Magic had always existed.
Its existence has been kept hidden for a long time by the Central Witch Coven (CWC).
They keep the mundane world clueless about the real power dominating the world.
But their task grows ever more difficult in modern times.
Even more so as some witches can't help but be naughty.
"You look like crap," Amanda remarked as Richard stepped onto the long balcony that allowed access to both their apartments. Leaning on the railing she took a drag of her cigarette before she continued. "I thought you and Sallie did well. What happened?"
Richard leaned heavily on the railing as he took an offered cigarette and lit it. "Everything went fine till I blew it all with a small mistake."
"Small mistakes don't ruin a date," his neighbor chided him.
"Well... It started out good. Third date. The Italian restaurant you recommended. We were at desserts when she had this brilliant idea that each of us should share a secret. To get to know each other better."
"Oh Rick," Amanda groaned. "You didn't..."
"Richard," he corrected her. He hated it to be called Rick or even worse Dick. "And I did."
"Oh boy," Amanda remarked. "I told you to keep that back until the eighth date or later."
"It is part of me," Richard protested.
"Oh, I know. Yesterday you blanked out for a minute as those three women walked by. I mean I, as a lesbian, can sympathize with fantasizing about them, but your obsession with latex is ... well."
"It is not an obsession," he countered. " I just have an eye for women who would look good in latex and what latex garments might fit them best."
"You have to admit blanking out to daydream-design those latex garments is a tad weird. Well, you blew it. Mind if I take a shot at her? She is cute after all."
Richard shot her an annoyed look. "Well, you can have her though I doubt you have a chance. Unless you are a witch too."
"Aww. Someone is angry. No need for name calling though," Amanda said with a big grin.
"Ha! No. That's her secret. She is a witch or she thinks she is one. Made a big scene right there in the restaurant when she cursed me." Richard shook his head. "Maybe I have my flaws, but at least I am not crazy. I might just have dodged a bullet there."
"Maybe. Depends on the curse."
"Oh, not you too. Well. She shouted something about me being the model of my fetish or so. And to give birth to my perverted ideas." Richard rolled his eyes. "The sad thing that is I really liked her. Before I knew she thinks she is a witch."
Amanda patted him on the back. "Well, I think you could use a beer. Be right back."
Richard saw her walk towards her apartment. In some morbid way, it was hilarious what bad luck he had with women. His ideal woman who understands him is his neighbor and a lesbian. And if he goes out of his way to find someone else he finds a wannabe witch.
Sighing he let his head hang. He really could use a beer and then a good nights sleep.
*****
Richard groaned as the first rays of sun blinded him. Of course, he had forgotten to draw the blinds. He cursed under his breath as his head was pounding. Hangover? From one glass wine and later one beer with Amanda? He really must be getting old.
He blinked against the sun and slowly his eyes adjusted. Only to see a curtain blocking his view. One that was strangely close. He used one of his hands to sweep it away and felt a pull on his head. The curtain ... was his hair? His mind struggled to make sense of it.
Then he saw his hand and his eyes bulged. They looked slender, feminine, and a far cry from his usual muscular build.
"Oh no no no no," he muttered under his breath. It sounded definitely too high in pitch to him. He pulled his bed covers away and let out a high-pitched scream.
The body of a woman. It couldn't be! This was impossible. Maybe a bad dream? He pinched his soft skin. It felt real. So felt the big slap he gave himself against his, face. Not a dream.
Mind reeling he made his way out of his bed. He needed to see himself in the mirror. Standing up proofed to be challenging. He swayed back and forth. Was he still drunk? Gradually he steadied himself and he noticed why it was so hard to stand upright. Under his hands, he felt a big bubble butt, tiny waist, and breasts so big he couldn't even guess the size.
While leaning on the wall he made his way towards the bathroom. His hand found the light switch and he gasped as he saw his own reflection. "Holy shit I look like a frickin' model."
Long brown tresses framed a beautiful and exotic looking face, that had large brown eyes, a petite nose, high cheeks and kissable lips.
His eyes slowly drifted downward and took in the many details. The slender neck and narrow shoulders. Slender arms with a hint of muscles underneath. His big bust was from this angle not as big as he had dreaded, but definitely upwards of D-cup.
The waist looked impishly small and it flowed into a big butt and shapely tights. New legs that were long and well shaped.
His body was perfect. The figure of a dream girl. His very own dream girl. Slowly it dawned on him. The curse. It was real! His ex-girlfriend has cursed him. It had not been a joke.
He made his way out of his bathroom. Still on shaky legs. He got better at keeping his balance in this over-proportioned body. Maybe soon he would get used to it and walk normally. Something he didn't want to find out.
He fished for his smartphone on the nightstand. It didn't take him long to find Sallie in his contacts. Maybe he should rename her contact to "witch". Shaking his head he concentrated on the matters at hand.
He heard the ringing and waited impatiently for her to pick up. The ringing changed as she declined his call. Angrily he called again.
"The person you have called is temporarily not available. Please..."
This time it was Richard who hung up. How could she dare to curse him like that and then ignoring him? He didn't know where she lived, but he vowed he would find her and make her lift the curse!
But first, he had to get dressed. Maybe some sweatpants and a t-shirt might fit. Standing up he saw his reflection in another mirror. Damn, he looked good. Someone with his body should lounge around the beach. Maybe in a bikini.
He already could envision it as he slipped into his usual daydreaming. Top and bottom both yellow latex with thick black stripes and accents. The top was a neck holder with triangle cups barely hiding the assets beneath. Below the band of black latex, that held the breasts from below, the yellow latex peeked out in playful ruffles. Those could be found on the backside of the bikini briefs too.
Richard shook his head again. This was no time to slip into his usual daydreaming. He had to get dressed and ...
His thoughts eluded him as his groin twitched in pleasure and his legs buckled below him. With a moan, he sank to his knees and against his bed on the floor. Confused he stared down his body to the part he had mostly ignored till now.
Waves of pleasure radiated from his belly to his snatch. It felt so good as it rhythmically pulsed within him. It was as if something wanted to get out. To free something from his netherly confines.
Then he felt it. Something was moving. Slowly gliding over the sensitive walls of his vagina. Alien yet strangely familiar. He didn't know how he knew what to do, but he pushed. Helped along whatever wanted to break free out of him.
By now his fingers had found their way down, unable to deny the allure of pleasure and need. They were the first to touch the slick something coming out of him.
His breathing ragged as he pushed with all his might and his fingers started to pull. Seconds later he let out a long sigh as he pulled it free. As his breathing calmed down he looked at what he was holding.
It was a ball of latex. Mostly yellow with stripes of black. He unfolded it and came face to face with a familiar bikini neck holder top. The same one he had just daydreamed about.
Another pulse down below made him grunt and drop the bikini top. The pleasure and pressure returned. Richard tried to catch his breath as another item made its way down from his womb to his snatch.
When he finally pulled another bundle of black and yellow out he instinctively knew that they were the matching bikini briefs. He dropped them to the side. His need took priority and despite all, he hadn't come yet. With abandon, his fingers dug into his snatch till he came in a loud scream of passion.
Exhausted Richard stared at the latex bikini. Had he really given birth to it? Logic took a backseat to the vivid memory of what just happened. Giving birth to his pervy ideas indeed. It reminded him of Sallie and the curse.
Lazily he fished for his phone and dialed again. He heard ringing and then suddenly crackling. The phone turned hot and he dropped it just in time to see a big lighting spark span from end to end of his phone.
That was impossible. A smartphone's battery didn't have enough juice to create something like that. As impossible as giving birth to latex garments.
His nose caught the smell of burning plastic a second before a small flame broke forth of his phone. Cursing he clamored to his feet and darted to the bathroom. A moment later he dumped a glass of water over his dead phone.
"Shit!" he cursed and flinched at his own breathy high feminine voice. With his phone gone he had no way to contact Sallie. He didn't even know where she lived.
His mind spun till he remembered. The record shop where he had met her. He knew she was fairly often there. She had admitted as much on a previous date.
Richard dreaded to go out, but what choice did he have? His gaze fell on the bikini pieces. "Might as well," he murmured. Thankfully latex was pretty stretchable and with some fumbling, he managed to get the top over his head and new breasts. Pulling up the bikini briefs reminded him of his long perfect legs.
Next on his agenda was pants. Jeans was downright out. He seriously doubted that his new derriere would fit in his old jeans. His mind conjured the image of his new body squeezed into a tight pair of jeans. But slowly the material got shiny as in his vision the pants turned into latex. Light blue with darker blue detailing to simulate texture and seams.
Richard blinked a few times to chase away his daydream. He had no time for it. "Oh fuck me," escaped him as a monster pulse of pleasure clawed its way out of him.
He barely managed to fall onto the bed when the next wave hit him. Again he felt the need to push and slowly he learned to time it with each pulse. It didn't take long for light blue latex to push out of him. Stretching his bikini briefs till he managed to pull them to the side.
This time it was longer and more intense. More mass pushed itself through the tight passage of his virgin hole. As the last bit of latex left him he finally found himself basking in the afterglow of an orgasm.
*****
Richard finally slipped out of his apartment. After giving birth to a fake jeans latex leggings he had needed time to calm down. Of course, he just had to try it on. A big mistake. As he had looked in the mirror he couldn't help but dream up a matching maroon colored ruffled blouse. Then he gave birth to it after barely managing to peel his latex pants off in time.
To his shame, he wore all of it now. After going through so much trouble he might as well, right? Still, he didn't dare to go out as such. He wore some old trainers - way too big for his dainty new feet - and a t-shirt that got spanned tightly over the globes of his new tits.
Of course, latex pants have no pockets so he crammed keys and other things in his backpack. Then he had finally ventured out.
"I was joking yesterday, but looks like Richard really called a hoe."
Richard cringed as he saw Amanda leaning against her apartment door. Of course he had to run into her and of course, she mistook him for a streetwalker. With a body like that pretty much anyone would.
"I don't mean to be rude," Amanda continued. "In fact, I wouldn't mind a round with you myself. You do ladies, right?"
Richard blushed. Not ten feet away from his home and he ran into trouble. Now the girl he had secretly a crush for was offering sex to him. Something he had dreamed of and thought impossible. If he just had his normal body and she would still be willing. He shook his head and felt blood running through his head. Turning away he marched away.
Only to be cut short as someone grabbed his backpack. "Hey that's Richards," Amanda said from behind. "You ain't robbing him, right?"
Richards mind was furiously searching for an answer. "He ... Uhm ... my backpack broke and ... I ... Uhm ... he offered his."
Turning around he saw Amanda and her scrutinizing gaze. "I don't think so," she declared a moment later. "Let me look into it or we go back and ask Richard. Your choice."
They couldn't go back. There was no Richard. Not a normal one. He contemplated running away, but how far would he come? In oversized trainers and with this alien body it was a miracle that he hadn't fallen down in a heap yet. Reluctantly he let the backpack slide from his shoulders.
Since when had Amanda become so scary? She looked taller and was so confident. No. Richard mentally corrected himself. He must have shrunk quite a bit. He was still taller than her, but only slightly and thanks to his long legs.
"Busted," Amanda said triumphantly. "Car keys and his wallet. I think it's time we go back and call the cops."
"Amanda no," slipped past Richard's lips. "I can explain..."
"Explain?" Amanda asked with a huff of irritation as she grabbed Richards arm in a surprisingly vice-like grip. "How about you tell me how you know my name."
Richard cursed his slip of words. He had to think of something. No. Fuck that. It was too late for lies. "I am Richard," he half-whined as Amanda dragged him on.
"Try again missy," Amanda only said. Arriving at Richard's apartments she banged on his door.
"The curse, Amanda. The curse is real."
Amanda stopped her fist mid-air and looked to Richard. "Is this a joke? Did Richard put you up to this? April the first was like two months ago."
"It's me. Richard," he insisted. "Sallie must be a witch for real." Seeing the doubt in Amanda's eyes he searched for something to convince her. "You used to ash into the flowers of old Miss Blackbriar."
"Everyone knows that besides the old hag. Try again."
"The first and only time you smoked weed you had to violently fart for two days."
"I... I was drunk when I told Richard that. He would never..." She paused for a few moments. "Richard?"
"Yes. Yes, it is me. And I do know how unbelievable it sounds. I woke up like this and ... I need to find Sallie and undo this!"
"Curses are real?" Amanda asked shocked. Still not really believing. "You have to tell me more. Come with me."
She dragged him to her apartment. Apparently, it wasn't his choice if he wanted to or not.
*****
Richard sat in Amanda's living room while she paced around. "Help me try to understand this. When did you change to ... this."
"I don't know. I woke up like this. It has to be the curse. It fits perfectly," Richard explained.
"Perfectly? What was the wording again?"
"To be the model for my fetish or so and ..."
"And?" Amanda urged after Richard had fallen silent.
"To ... Uhm ... give birth to my perverted ideas. Apparently, the curse is quite literal."
Amanda gave him a doubtful look. "Literal like ... ?"
"You remember my daydreams?"
"Your usual spacing out? How could I not?"
"Well, this morning when I saw this body I thought it was perfect for a bikini." He pulled up the t-shirt and the blouse to the side. "This bikini. Later I made the mistake to imagine latex jeans followed by a maroon blouse. The very same I am now wearing."
"You are bullshitting me, right? They just poof into existence?"
"Literally," Richard urged. "The curse is very literally. I freakin' gave birth to them."
Amanda gave a quick sharp laugh. Not knowing how else to react. "You are saying that if you, for example, image me in a catsuit then you would give birth to a catsuit. Like spread your legs and push push push?"
Richard didn't answer. Couldn't really. For a moment he let his defense fall and he couldn't' help but to imagine it. Amanda in a tight catsuit. Pastel pink would match her blue eyes and blond hair perfectly. The latex clinging to every nook and cranny. Zippers provided easy access to her breasts, butthole and snatch.
"Oh freakin' fuck," Richard pressed out when he finally could see the living room again. Alarmed he stood up only to fall down as a spasm of pleasure twitched through him.
His mind was in a panic. A catsuit had way more latex than pants. A whole fucking lot more and the pants already had been a big ordeal. Unsure how long he had till coherent thought left him he started to roll down the tight clinging pants.
Amanda meanwhile watched flabbergasted a big breasted dream frantically pulling at her pants. "This is a dream, right? No way this is real." To her amazement, soft pink latex pushed out of the girl moaning on her couch.
She really was giving birth and Amanda hesitantly made her way over. It was fascinating to see how her slight puffy mount stretched to the max and how slowly - push by push - more pink latex quelled forth.
Richard, if it was really Richard, clawed frantically at the rubbery material to get it out. Amanda sat down and pulled herself. It helped, but Richard winced when she pulled too hard. There was a pace - a rhythm - to each push and Amanda marveled at the sight before her. This was hot and she felt her own juices start running.
Suddenly Richard was trashing and Amanda needed a moment to calm her panic. She just came. Her feminized neighbor of three years came on her couch giving birth to an endless string of latex. It was the hottest thing Amanda had ever seen. And this was far from over.
She counted two more screaming orgasms till the last slip of latex was pushed out and Richard collapsed in exhaustion. She pulled the bundle of pastel pink to her nose. It smelled of latex and sex.
Slowly she unfolded it and saw the catsuit in all its glory. She had to try it on, but she gave a worried glance to Richard. "Richard? Rick?" He, or rather she, was out of it. Thankfully Amanda could see her breasts slightly heaving. She was just knocked out.
Biting her lip, Amanda dragged her - not strictly voluntary - gift to her bedroom. Her clothes flew off her but donning the pastel pink garment was harder than she had thought. It was easier after she remembered the olive oil in her kitchen.
Once done she admired herself in the mirror. It fit her perfectly and she felt divine. That and naughty. With a wicked grin, she made her way back to Richard.
*****
Richard woke up with a fluffy light blanket on him. Confused he looked around till his eyes fell on Amanda. She sat nearby. Looking like a dream come true in a pastel pink catsuit. One he was intimately familiar with. "What happened?" he asked.
"You passed out. Sorry ... I didn't mean to ..." She let her hands roam over her latex clad body. "I didn't believe you till ... Here. Drink this." She handed him a glass of water. "You must be parched."
That he was and Amanda had to stop him from drinking too quickly.
"How long was I out?"
"About two hours. How are you feeling?"
"Like I am stuck on a rollercoaster."
"I can Imagine. Well, sort of..." She scooted closer and took his hand. Placing it on her tight. "What do you think? How do I look? Worth to be passed out for two hours?"
He had just downed a glass of water. How came it that his mouth was already dry again? Not trusting his voice he nodded.
"Well, if this lasts for a while you might want to wear pants with a zipper," Amanda suggested.
"Cheese Cracker. Paprika Cracker. Sea salt pepper..."
"What are you doing?" a confused Amanda wanted to know.
"Avoiding a daydream," Richard pressed out.
"Oh. Well." To change the subject she moved Richards hand to her crotch. "Look what I found out. Metal zipper. Guess you can do more than just latex." Richard looked away with a deep red blush on his face. "You look so cute like that Ricky."
"It's Richard. Not Rick," he automatically corrected her. Only a moment later his mind caught up. "And not Ricky either."
Amanda leaned over and whispered conspiratorially in his ear. "But Richard is way too long. If someone naughty like you has to wear her name on a choker Ricky would fit far better, right?"
Richard couldn't answer even if he wanted to. Amanda lightly grinding his hand into her crotch and whispering into his ear had the intended result. Thoughts of crackers eluded him as he already could see himself wearing in his new body wearing a black latex band as a choker. Slowly his name appeared as bedazzlement on his choker. Not Richard, but Ricky. Gleaming in his daydream. But it wasn't right yet. It looked too flimsy. Slowly it thickened and fake seams appeared. Resembling more a dog collar than a choker.
"Oh, you deviant..." He started after slipping out of his daydream and stopped with a moan as he felt Amanda's fingers in his snatch.
More animalistic grunts escaped him as the pleasure waves and pulses radiated out from his womb. He squirmed under her expert hands and when the choker made its way out Richard buckled in well-deserved orgasmic bliss.
"You aren't playing fair," Richard accused her after catching his breath.
"Poor little Ricky. Fingered off by her neighbor and all she got for it is a bedazzled choker," Gently Amanda placed the newly born choker in Richard's hand. "Come on. Wear it for me."
Richard let his fingers roam over the name on the choker. It was just like he had daydreamed about it. On the back, he found a metal clasp. Amanda was right. He could do more than metal, but he guessed only as secondary material. Looking up he saw Amanda close by. Waiting patiently with hungry eyes.
"If you wear it I have a special reward for you," she promised him.
Damn. It was hard to think when she sat so close to him. Dressed as a latex goddess. Giving up with a sigh he lifted the choker up to his neck. The clasp clicked and the choker fitted snugly.
"That looks divine on you Ricky. Well, a promise is a promise. How about instead of something coming out of your tight little snatch I put something in? I have a hard strap-on in my bedroom that begs to make your acquaintance."
Richard swallowed hard. This was more than getting fingered by her. Amanda wanted sex with him. He had dreamed of this day, just not in this way. Should he say no? Or yes?
He could already see her in her tight pastel pink latex catsuit. Above it, straps in the same pastel pink wielded a fake neon pink dick to her crotch. She looked so commanding that he could already imagine himself spreading his legs.
"I guess you don't want it," Amanda said and drew his attention. "Had a little daydream there, right?"
"Oh, shit," was all he could say before the now familiar erotic pulsing took over his logical thinking.
"Look! You are growing a dick again," Amanda said in excitement.
Richard couldn't help, but to look. The head of a neon pink dong slowly parted his nether lips. Growing longer and longer.
"Too bad you can't feel that one," Amanda said. Then she grabbed the dick and gave it a few strokes. "You can't, right?"
Richard whimpered a no. That was all he could manage. Finally, the dick was out and the straps started to appear, but somehow it wasn't getting easier.
"Double-ended. How considerate of you," Amanda breathed into his ears. All Richard could do was whimper and push. "You didn't come, did you?" Amanda asked when she finally pulled the latex strap-on free.
Richard shook his head.
"Can't use this here. Not properly," Amanda said while holding up her newest prize. "Let's get you in my bed."
She worked an arm under Richard and pulled him up. His breasts shifted and now he felt their total weight again. Funny how he had forgotten about them. How natural it had become to him while rocking in orgasmic bliss. Now their heavy pull reminded him again and his diamond-hard nipples strained against his latex blouse. Damn, he was horny. Again.
With shaky legs and leaning on Amanda, he made his way over to her bedroom. Funny. He had never been here before. Now he wondered how deep he was falling into Amanda's grasp and if he even wanted to get free again.
Soon he found himself laying on silken sheets. His eyes glued on Amanda as she swayed in a little sensual dance. Her hands roamed downward on her body till they found the zipper in her crotch. As she slowly opened it a wet sheen made its way down her legs. She was as horny as Richard he realized.
She made a show of slowly picking up her new strap-on. Stepping into the straps and slowly pulling it up. A cute little gasp as the inner neon pink dildo parted her lips and a sensual moan as she rammed it home. She pulled the buckles tight and then she was complete. The goddess in latex Richard had dreamed about not long ago.
"Do you want me?" she purred as she slowly climbed on the bed.
"Yes," Richard whispered mesmerized.
"Do you want this?" she asked. Stroking the fake dick.
He nodded, while his eyes are glued to hers.
She crawled close. Her head leaning down. Lips so close to his ear. The tip of her dick so close to his place of need. "Then we have a problem," she purred.
Alarmed and desperate he looked at her.
"You see. For me, the strap-on is something special. Only for those that I am dating. Do you want me to be your girlfriend? You sexy naughty girlfriend?"
"Yes! Please. Yes. I want you as my girlfriend. Dreamed about it for so long."
"But I am a lesbian. I date only woman."
"But I am one," Richard whimpered.
"You are a cursed man," she breathed into his ear and mind. "Or are you? Cursed man or blessed woman? Richard or Ricky?"
Richards thoughts spun in panic. What was he? Could he give all up? His life? For her? All his dreams so close in his grasp. All he had to say was... "Ricky," he said out loud.
"And my Ricky is a...?"
Ricky somehow knew there was no coming back. Maybe that was part of the curse. Or the blessing as Amanda put it. "A woman," she answered.
"Who's woman are you Ricky?"
"Yours Amanda. I am yours. Your girlfriend. Your..." Ricky screamed in ecstasy as Amanda pushed deep into her.
"Don't stop," Amanda commanded. "Say it again and again."
"I am Ricky," she pressed out between moans. "Your girlf... slutty ... latex ... girlfriend. R-Ricky ... girlfriend… oh my ..." She exploded in euphoric bliss. Silenced by Amanda in a needy kiss. Together they rocked in passion. Riding the surge of raw energy. Connected by the neon pink stiffness buried between both their legs.
When they finally calmed down Amanda's hot lips found their way to Ricky's ear again. "Oh, Ricky. My sexy little minx. I have big plans for you. Big plans. Tomorrow you will be lost in an ocean of daydreams, but tonight. Tonight I will teach you that there is more to sex than raw humping. I will show you just how lucky you are to be a woman. My woman."
And she kept her promise.
The end?
A hard thick cock. Just what the doctor had prescribed. Or to be more accurate Beatrice had diagnosed herself with. Good thing she had stumbled upon Justin. Just some random guy from a random bar. Fishing out his already hard dick she knew he was a prime catch. A good hard fuck and then she was out of Justin's flat and life.
Suddenly the door of Justin's bedroom burst open. Startled Bea turned around and stopped mid-movement just as she saw a woman her age entered.
"You thought you said you are-" she didn't come any further as she froze in place. Literally, as her whole body stopped reacting to her commands.
"Penny I can explain-" Justin started before he equally felt silent
"You asshole!" Penny shouted. "I told you I won't tolerate cheaters. And you-" She looked at Beatrice confused. "Who are you?"
Bea noticed her jaw slacking and took it as a sign that she could speak again. "I am Beatrice Sherman."
"Well, Beatrice Sherman. What are you doing here? And be honest," Penny ordered her.
"I wanted a hard and thick cock. It has been three months and I need something to take the edge off. So I looked for a one night stand." Bea blushed violently. Why had she told all those intimate details?
"Did you know that he had a girlfriend or that I am a witch?" Penny inquired further.
"He told me he is single," Beatrice admitted truthfully. More sheepishly she continued. "And witches aren't real, right?" The moment the words had left her mouth, she regretted them. The fact that the girlfriend could forbid her movement or coax embarrassing details out of her spoke of a different truth. Now she prayed with all her might that she won't end up like a toad or worse.
"Looks like he tricked you as much as me. Get out of here."
Her ability to move returned and Beatrice hadn't to be told twice. With haste, she grabbed her discarded clothes and threw them on. She was about to hurry out when Penny stopped her.
"Wait! You came here for a nice hard dick, right?"
Beatrice, not trusting her voice, just nodded.
"In that case, you need this." Penny walked over to Justin and with one quick yank his dick popped off. A moment later Beatrice caught the limp cock on instinct. Shocked she looked down and stared at the detached pecker.
"Now you can't cheat on me anymore," Penny told Justin. "Then again I have no use for a dickless boyfriend. I am done here. Never bother me again."
Beatrice was petrified by confusion. This was all so strange and now she could swear she could feel her fingers on the dick.
"What the fuck! I have a pussy?" Justin exclaimed. Bea looked up and saw he was right. Where his dick had been a new virgin pussy had its place. He also was able to move and speak again.
"That is mine!" He shouted and sprinted over to Beatrice. Just to roughly grab the dick in her gasp.
"Ouch!" she exclaimed in shock. She really could feel that dick. It was real. Especially the pain.
"Get out!" Justin shouted. He shoved her away in the direction of the door. "All your fault. Now my dick is- I can't even feel him anymore."
A moment later Beatrice stood before a closed door and no banging on it helped. She could still feel it. His hands on her dick. Prodding and pushing. Sometimes holding the base against something, maybe his pelvis, to reattach it? After a while, Beatrice gave up. This was all too strange. Surreal really. Maybe if she would go home and sleep it out the sensations would fade away. That was a good idea she decided. Maybe some hard stuff to ease her to sleep. After all, this was plain crazy. A roofie! That would explain it. She bet she was drugged. Witches. As if-
A week later Beatrice woke up to a strange feeling. Hands stroking her dick. She could still feel it. Now and then Justin would try to reattach it. But today it was different. Her dick was stiff and he gave it a handjob. Just enough to keep it hard. Every time it got soft she could feel his hands on it. What was he doing?
She jumped up and headed to the shower. Maybe she had enough time to pay him a visit before work. This had to stop. It was the time that Justin faced the truth. It was her dick now. As silly as it sounded it was the truth.
Just as Beatrice entered the shower she felt something different. It was something entirely else too. Warm, wet and slippery. Most of all tight. It felt amazing, but still, Bea couldn't help to feel violated. Justin was fucking himself with her dick. Hastily she exited her shower. That and her work had to wait. She had to-
Her dick suddenly exploded and Beatrice collapsed on the ground. She just had an orgasm in the middle of her apartment without stimulating her body. It was kinda nice but gave way to a wave of burning anger. She had to see Justin and god help him if he was stubborn.
A half-hour later Bea was close to Justin's house and something happened that she had dreaded. Her dick got stiff again. Justin had tried now and then to go for a second round, but her dick had been spent. Now it had recovered and Beatrice dreaded what might happen next. She quickened her pace. Unwilling to suffer an orgasm in public.
She barely made it into his house when she felt herself enter him. By the time she got to his floor, she was panting heavily. Desperately she banged on his door and to her relief, she felt her dick slip out of Justin.
The moment he opened the door she was shouting and slipping past him. "You asshole. I can feel everything."
"You feel what?" Justin asked. She could still see the sheen of sweat on his face.
"The dick you idiot!"
"My dick?" Justin asked confused.
Eventually, Beatrice found her cock. She had felt it on some fabric and her first guess was right. It lay on his untidy bed. "No. My dick. I feel it and so it is mine. You want it back? Speak to your ex-girlfriend or go get another."
She put the cock in her purse and when Justin moved to stop her she slapped him. Hard. Angrily she stormed out of his apartment. She expected him to follow, but looking back she heard loud sobbing. Beatrice didn't care. That asshole could rot in hell.
Beatrice drummed with her fingers on her desk. Two more hours to go. It was maddening. Her dick had found a new home in her lingerie drawer. Together with her not so lifelike and not sensitive cocks. Now she regretted it. The soft caress of her panties had seemed like a good idea. Now she knew better.
Every time she got even a little excited her dick sprang into action. Stiffening in the drawer and gliding over the lacy garments. She hadn't noticed that each time her dick shifted its position a little until it had bumped into the drawer side. The cool wood constantly reminded her of the offending body part.
One hour and fifty-eight minutes. Today her patience was truly tested.
Beatrice arrived at her home and walked straight to her bedroom. Her dick was now safely propped in its own drawer. The bottom and sides hidden underneath soft blankets. However, it hadn't helped with her horniness. Ever since she got it her libido had doubled.
Now she couldn't bear it anymore. She grabbed a dick, one of the fake ones, and did go to work. Wet as she was, it didn't long until an orgasm ripped through her. Panting, she enjoyed her afterglow.
However, when her heartbeat calmed down she felt something strange. Her dick felt wet. Curious she opened her drawer and gave out a loud curse. Of course, she should have known. Her dick had balls. Meaning she just jizzed all over the carefully laid out blankets.
Annoyed she started to clean it and herself up.
What was the saying? Curiosity killed the cat? Beatrice was no cat, but she was brimming with curiosity. Not the curiosity, but the distraction from it, nearly killed her today. Daydreams about dicks had always been a problem for her. Ever since her puberty. Now that she had her own it was worse.
So here she was. Two weeks after Bea got her own personal dick. It lay beside her on the bed. Already semi-hard as she was already a little wet. She grabbed the base of her dick and pressed it and the balls down on her bed. With her other hand, she started slowly jerking her dick off. It felt strange and not very pleasant. That is until it got very hard. Eight or nine inches she guessed. All hers.
Then she discovered how sensitive the tip was. It didn't take long for her to come. For a moment it was intense and on instinct, her hips buckled. Jerking back and force. When her dick twitched the last time she could finally breath normal again.
"Eww," she exclaimed. Her whole hand was drizzled with cum. Only now she noticed how unprepared she was. No paper tissue close by. After a moment she sacrificed one of her socks.
After she had cleaned away the remains of her experiment she knew it wouldn't be the last time. It was quite different, but not in a bad way. Bea had to admit. She was hooked.
Bea didn't need to look at her dick to know she was horny. Courtesy of a nice vibrator in her pussy turned to low. Just enough to get her dick hard as steel.
Her heart was beating a mile a minute. Was she really ready to do this? Then again she knew "horny Beatrice" could lead her into a lot of trouble. Mostly to questionable one-night stands.
She usually hated blowjobs. Mostly because she didn't get anything out of it. Now, however, it was a different matter entirely. Beatrice swallowed hard and then opened her lips. Slowly her hands lifted her dick up and then her lips touched the crown of her cock.
It felt amazing. The wetness and warmth all around it and when she used her tongue. No wonder men liked blowjobs so much. She needed more and a moment later Bea was disappointed as she hit the back of her throat. Still, the tightness was amazing. She tried sucking and oh boy was it good. A moment later she gagged and coughed as cum shot down her windpipe.
So she was definitely not an expert in giving head. But now Beatrice had to admit she had a damn good reason to change that.
Bea walked down the street when another woman crossed her path. Beatrice turned her head and gave the woman a quick look of appreciation. That skirt did wonderfully highlight the tight butt walking by. She wouldn't mind stripping it off her.
She nearly stumbled as her mind caught up. Had she just stared after a woman and had a lewd thought? Was her dick messing with her head? Must be. Thanks to it she would now turn into a lesbian. Or had she already become one?
Distressed Bea looked around and saw several women she wouldn't mind doing. She started to panic a little until she saw a handsome guy walking by. She wouldn't push him out of her bed either.
Bea shook her head. So she wasn't a lesbian. Just Bi. She didn't know if that made it easier or harder. All she knew was that she had a hard-on just from thinking about sexy men and women. Her dick was hard like steel and begged for attention. Sadly, Bea wasn't anywhere near her apartment.
The metal ring was cold against her skin. A part of her still found it strange to see the appendage as hers. Carefully she slipped the dick through the metal ring until it rested against her balls. She held her dick over her pelvis and strapped the leather belts holding the metal ring tight.
It felt strange at first. Her dick in a strap-on harness. It looked shrunken because of the cold metal. She gently gave it a few strokes and slowly her dick got hard. It was definitely easier to give herself a handjob with her dick strapped to her crotch.
She quickened her pace while thinking about men and women in lewd poses. All too soon she bucked her hips and she came. Slowly her breathing normalized. Just in time to curse loudly. She had caught some of her jizz with a tissue, but most of it had missed it completely. Sighing once again she started to clean up the mess she had produced.
Bea's heart was beating a mile a minute. How could it not? Here she was on another one-night stand. Business as usual, but not quite so. Before her beckoned an already half-naked vixen. Bea's soon-to-be first sex with another woman. She hadn't felt this nervous since ... her first time with a boy she guessed.
"I won't bite," the girl teased.
Eagerly Beatrice stepped forward but stopped before the bed.
"Wait. There is something I would like to try if you are game." She fished out her strap-on harness. Already loaded with her half-hardened dick.
"It is a little too soft don't you think," the girl playfully mocked her.
"Oh, it will be harder and bigger. Trust me on that one. You see this is a new high-tech toy I test out for a company. Very hush hush, but they tried to make a fake dick as real as possible. Want to give it a spin?"
The girl gave her a grin. "Normally I am the one wearing the strap-on, but sure. Let's give your high-tech toy a spin."
Eagerly Bea stepped into the harness and slid it up her legs. Just the action of pulling the belts of the harness tight around her hips made her dick so much harder.
"Not bad," the girl commented. "Let's see if you can handle it too." She let herself fall on her back and pulled her legs apart and back. Giving Bea the impression of a big V or even more so an Arrow. The tip of it the goal of her desires.
Bea hadn't to be asked twice. She was on the bed and poised to push in deep a moment later. This was it. Her first time. She had no clue what to do. At least from this perspective. Her hesitation was overruled by her need and with a big trust, she slid into the already wet pussy of her partner.
Pulling in close she kissed the girl while grinding her dick with slow deliberate movements of her hip. Steadily she increased her thrusts as their making out grew in intensity.
"Faster," the girl moaned and Beatrice was happy to oblige. With each thrust, her breasts and nipples dragged softly over her partner's counterparts. A delicious feeling to Bea. Almost regretting not having been Bi before getting her dick.
The lovely woman clamped her legs around Bea. Pulling her close in need. Her tight love channel squeezed Beatrice's dick into a tight embrace. It was too much for both of them. Together they came hard and their cries of ecstasy rivaled each other.
Both women lay together for a while. Silent as if a word could break the magic moment, but far from being without communication. Nuzzling, petting, and small grinding made for an exquisite after-play.
It was the girl who broke contact first. Slowly sliding down. Her hands undoing the buckles of Bea's strap-on. Once freed of the harness the girl slowly parted Beatrice's legs.
Bea mewed as she felt a tongue explore her netherly confines. Soon she was panting and twisting on the bed. When the tongue broke contact she moaned in protest. Then she felt something strange. As she made sense of it her eyes shot open.
She felt wetness touching her dick at the same time something hard brushed her pussy.
"Let me show you how I can handle it," the girl purred. Before Bea could open her mouth the girl pushed into her. With her own dick! Sensations threatened to overwhelm her. Being fucked by a dick she could handle. The sensations of using her dick too. But so far she had never experienced both at the same time. She had dreaded this moment. Fearing it might be too much. It was close. And as Bea came she had an orgasm, unlike anything she had ever felt before. It was intoxicating.
A deep haze of lust settled over her mind and she knew that her night with this girl was just beginning.
When Beatrice woke up she expected the typical morning after regrets she always had. She always had a higher-than-normal libido. It leads her to a long string of one-night stands. Each morning after she found her mind clear again and cursed herself that she had given into her libido's demands yet again.
But this morning she felt good. No regret snuck up on her. This had been more than a quick romp. Not just some drive-in sex. Finding herself still in bed with her partner the morning after was new. Unexpected. And remembering the previous night she knew why. It had been more than a quicky. The girl had quenched the thirst of her libido and then some.
And then her dick in her own vagina- Bea shook herself as those memories threatened to arouse her again. Speaking of. Where was her dick? She found the discarded strap-on under a fold of the blanket. As she held it up an ice-cold feeling ran through her veins.
In preparation, she had put a condom on her dick. One that was now missing.
"Ready for a round two?" the girl asked as she stirred awake and saw Bea lifting the harness.
Meanwhile, Bea's thoughts ran rampage in another direction. "When did the condom missing?" she asked aloud.
"When I strapped it on the first time," the girl said as she hugged Bea from behind. "After all a condom on a toy is kind of silly," she whispered into Beatrice's ear.
All Bea could think of was pills. The small ones to avoid pregnancies. She had stopped taking them for a while now. After all, she hadn't planned to sleep with a man for a while so what would have been the use? Now Bea faced a dire possibility. Had the girl impregnated her with her own dick? Could she even get pregnant? If so who would be the father? The Girl? Justin? Or even Bea herself?
Shuddering she untangled herself from the vixen behind her.
"I need to go," Bea said out loud.
"I know," the girl agreed. "That's how it works."
Beatrice stopped throwing on her clothes to look at the girl. "Work, you know? But what you did yesterday- I hope we see each other again." And to her surprise, Bea meant it too.
Then she hurried out of the apartment. In search of a pharmacy and a morning-after pill.
Bea lazily lounged on her bed. She enjoyed the twin buzz. One vibro egg was buzzing around in her snatch. Set to low. Over it, she wore her favorite strap-on. In it, of course, her own dick. Slowly she rubbed a vibrating penis sleeve over it. Also set to low.
Slightly over a year had passed since she got her special gift from the witch. In that time she had learned many tricks. Edging herself like this would reward herself so much later.
The ringing of her doorbell made her curse. At first, she tried to ignore it, but whoever was there was persistent. She unbuckled the strap-on and pulled out the egg. Then again she couldn't stand being away from her own dick for long. So she pushed it into her own snatch before donning the rest of her clothes.
Opening the door to her apartment she found a bike courier. All yummy in spandex and such.
"Miss Beatrice Sherman?"
"Yes, that is me."
"You've been served," he told her as he pushed a manila envelope to her.
Confused she took it. Thoughts about seducing the messenger eluded her as she opened the envelope. Justin! The original owner of her dick. Was he trying to sue her into giving back her cock? Something she found horrifying.
Then her frown deepened. Alimony? Was he suing her for child support? She overflew the rest of the letter. It stated here that "he" had given birth to a baby girl. That Beatrice was the suspected "father".
It was ridiculous! But then again, was it really? She remembered a vagina on Justin after the witch had popped off the dick. And Bea remembered all too well the one time Justin had used her dick on himself without her consent. And now she was supposed to pay for his misdeeds.
No way in hell. Furious she looked up the best lawyer available.
As Bea entered the courtroom she was surprised how Justin looked. She barely recognized him. He had grown out his hair. Now reaching past his shoulders. He dressed differently too. Like a woman. And in his arm was a baby. Hers? What confused her even more, was it was suckling on Justin's breasts.
More confusion threatened her as the court opened the session. Justin was now legally Justine. One hundred percent biological woman.
Bea's lawyer assured her that the case would be dismissed. Their strategy was simple. A woman can't get another woman pregnant. But the opposition had an answer for this.
"I have here ten signed statements of women claiming to have sex with Miss Beatrice Sherman," the lawyer of the opposition started. "Each describes Miss Sherman wielding an oddly realistic sex toy shaped like a penis. All ten witnesses claim that Miss Sherman admitted that this was an experimental toy her company developed. Mind you Miss Sherman does not work for a company that specializes in sex toys. Rather she works for a pharmaceutical company."
Bea's own lawyer tried to shred the theory to pieces, but Bea soon knew they were losing ground.
"The very thought that a device like this exists is not as far-fetched as one might think. In today's day and age, many things are possible. I like to remind the court that Miss Justine Beyer was a man just a little over a year ago."
It was the nail in Bea's coffin. Eventually, the verdict of the judge proved as much.
"I hereby order Miss Sherman to either provide said device to the court or submit to a DNA test. This session is adjourned."
Bea knew she couldn't hand over her dick. That only left the DNA test. Now pushed into a corner she gave Justine the evil eye, who did her best to avoid eye contact. With a sigh, she instructed her lawyer to go for the test.
* * * * * * * * * *
It was a week later that Bea once again found herself in the same courtroom. Now everything was said and done. The only thing left was to hear the judge announce the result.
Beatrice nearly screamed when the judge fiddled too long to get the papers out of an envelope. Then he took his sweet time reading. Eventually, he looked up and gazed over those around him. "This DNA test confirms that Beatrice Sherman is not the father of Miss Beyer's child. I hereby dismiss this case and ..."
Bea didn't care for the rest. She slumped down in her chair. The relief was evident on her face. She enjoyed the moment while it lasted. But soon enough she was ushered out with the rest. The next court session was soon to begin.
Outside she spoke a few last words with her lawyer when she noticed Justine hover close by. Dismissing her lawyer she turned around and snapped at her. "What?"
"I just came to apologize," Justine started. "I knew it was a long shot."
"What do you mean by 'it was a long shot'?"
"Remember what you said to me? That I should go get another dick. I did. A lot actually. Then suddenly I got pregnant. Things did go downhill from there."
"Then why didn't you sue anyone of those guys?"
"I kind of- Never bothered to learn their names."
Bea groaned, but then thought better of it. It wasn't like she could name all the one-night stands she had. "So why sue me at all?"
"I was desperate," Justine admitted. "My new active sex life cost me my job. Then I got pregnant. I was strapped for cash. It was a wonder I successfully settled with the energy drink company-"
"You sued an energy drink company? What for?"
"For turning me into a woman. I know. It was Penny who did, but they didn't know that. There were rumors somehow female hormones were found in their drinks and I just kinda jumped on it. Their settlement was nice, but I knew it wouldn't last."
"So you sued me for alimony. Sorry, but no game there. Guess you have to look for a job."
"I did. All I found was a waitress job and that doesn't pay much."
"Well, good luck. I can't help you."
"Wait!" Justine cried out. Then she came close and whispered to Beatrice. "Do you still got it?"
"Got what?"
"My dick."
"You mean MY dick," Bea corrected her. "And I ain't giving it back."
"I don't ask you to-"
"Then what do you want?"
"Well, my dick- Your dick. It's rather large and-"
Now it made click inside Bea's head. Justine got addicted to having a cock between her netherly lips. Not that Bea could fault her for it. She was just as badly addicted to it. At least until she got her own dick and her addiction shifted.
"Ask me again in a few months. When I am not so mad at you anymore." That being said, Bea turned around and walked away.
A few months later Bea found herself walking to a diner downtown. She had an itch to scratch and knew a waitress that could help her. Bea came prepared. Her dick and strap-on harness were both carefully packed into her purse.
She was just about to cross the street when she noticed a woman eyeing the diner from afar. To her surprise, Bea remembered her. With a grin, she adjusted her direction.
"Hard to believe she was once a man, right? All thanks to your magic."
Bea's words made the other woman jump. She looked shocked at her. "How do you know that-"
"You don't remember me?" Bea asked. "You gifted me his - well, her - dick. I guess it was only a minute and then I was out of your life. Your name was Penny, right?"
"The one-night stand!" Penny exclaimed. "Now I remember."
"Can you ask why you are spying on your ex from across the street?" Then a frightening thought made it past Bea's lips. "You aren't here to give her back my dick, right?"
"What? No. I just came by to reminisce," Penny admitted. "Justin was an ass, but his best feature-"
It suddenly made click for Beatrice. Some girls got addicted to big schlongs. It was a craving not easily satisfied. At least for girls who hadn't their own magical dick.
"You know-" Beatrice started and tethered off until she got Penny's full attention. "His best feature is now my best feature. And I got it right now in my purse. I was looking forward to fucking a waitress silly in her break, but I might settle on a witch in need."
Bea held her hand open in an inviting manner and after a moment of hesitation, Penny grabbed it.
"Just so you know," Bea remarked as she led Penny to her apartment. "I won't cheat on you, because I don't do relationships."
Bea was tapping impatiently on the small cafe's table. Penny was late. Not just now, but overall. Both women certainly weren't friends with benefits. The benefits were there. Just not the friendship. Those benefits had been a call from Penny two or three times a month. Asking for a romp. But after a few months, the calls stopped.
Then, the last day, Penny called again. To meet. Not at Bea's or her own apartment, but out in the open. That made Bea curious.
Eventually, the door to the cafe opened and Bea spied Penny entering. It was obvious the witch was upset and as she came near Bea thought Penny's eyes looked puffy. Probably cried her eyes out not long ago.
They made it barely past greetings when Penny cried out. "He is cheating on me! I know it."
Bea furrowed her brow. "Who?"
"Brad!" It took Penny a moment to settle down. "I met him a few weeks back. Then we got steady a fortnight ago. And now- Something's changed."
"If it has been just a few weeks. Why not move on?" For Bea, it was that easy. Relationships always had her confused. Maybe that was the reason hers never lasted long.
"I would, but I haven't found someone with his-"
Beatrice narrowed her eyes. By now she knew a little of how the witch ticked. "He's got a big dick, doesn't he?"
The resulting blush told Bea everything she needed to know. Penny seemed to have a type. First Justin and now Brad. Bastard with a big pecker.
"You know there is a way to find out?" Bea said with a barely suppressed grin. "But there is a cost."
"So, this is it," Brad exclaimed as he led Beatrice into his apartment.
"Nice, but not what I am here for," Bea commented with a mischievous grin. "Drop your pants and let me see what a catch I reeled in."
Brad did just that and gave a cocky "You won't be disappointed".
Bea's smile widened. "Nice. But before we start- You are really single? No jealous girlfriend busting in? Because I had that before."
"I am free as a bird," Brad stated. "And all yours for the night."
"You asshole!" The shout came from Penny who dropped her invisibility spell. Silently she had followed them the whole evening.
"Penny, I can explain-"
Bea was having none of it. She cut off Brad and cut in before Penny could start in earnest. "I think my work here is done. Penny? My payment?"
Penny looked stunned but caught herself a moment later. "You are right. A deal is a deal." She walked over to Brad who suddenly found himself immobilized.
A quick yank and a toss were all it needed. Bea held up her second magical dick in her hands. She could feel it too. "Nice doing business with you. I'll be going. Give me a call if you want to feel this dick between your legs again. Either of you."
With a chuckle, Beatrice left. Already deep into a fantasy of double penetrating Justine with her new and old dick.
Bea was enjoying the afterglow. Another orgasm. It was just past breakfast, but she already has lost count of how many she had this day. Which was entirely normal.
The buzzer to her door sounded and a moment later Bea's maid minced in her high heels to get it. Brittney, formerly Brad, came along nicely. Of course, the magic had run its course years ago. Nowadays it was just drilling her into the role of a maid. And in other ways, Bea mentally added with a grin.
As she heard her guests arriving, Beatrice straightened her dress. Not that the leather mini needed it. Bea just loved the feeling. Below the hem peeked out one of her favorite dicks. Formerly of Raul, Penny's fourth failed attempt at a relationship.
With a sigh, Bea stood up on her tight high leather boots and had to admit - again - that the magic and her dicks were changing her. With each one added she felt more dominant. Not to mention hornier.
For a moment she swayed on her feet. Not from the high heels, but from another orgasm. She glanced towards the room she called her "dick treasury". In it, Penny was busy going from one of her peckers to the next. Servicing them all. It was magic. Changing her as much as it did Bea. But, Penny's obsession with dicks grew in another way.
Brittney led in an emancipated young man. With the usual greetings done, it was time for business. "You've got the money?"
Reluctantly, the client put five thousand dollars on the coffee table. However, his hands remained on the wad of cash. "It really works?"
Bea gave an amused snort. "Of course. My very own maid used to be a guy. Maid! Show her."
Brittney minced over and lifted her skirt. Below it was a specially designed chastity belt. Most of it made of transparent plastic. Giving the world the full view of her wet needy snatch. To accompany it, the maid handed the client an album of photographs. Documenting the slow change from Brad to Brittney over the course of the year.
"When can we start?"
Bea grinned. This was all too easy. That money would soon be hers. "Just wait here."
With sure steps, she walked over to her "dick treasury". The view inside was magnificent. On one wall were her most prominent dicks. Gathered by catching cheating boyfriends of Penny's. All locked behind displays, safe for the one she was wearing right now. Of course, those weren't the only things locked away in this room.
Beatrice's gaze shifted to Penny and the wall of service. The witch was busy giving a smallish cock of three inches a blowjob. They all were this small. The two hundred and eighty-seven cocks affixed there had one thing in common: they had been yanked off men mid-transition to becoming a woman. Their diminished size was the result of years of taking female hormones. Until something better came along. The rumor of a woman who could yank off your dick for five thousand bucks. Instant vagina and the rest of the body would follow within a year.
"Penny, we got a client."
It took a moment for Bea's words to register. The witch let go of the small dick and needed a moment to get rid of her dazed lust ridden gaze. Then she begged Beatrice. "Please. Not another small one."
Bea gave a sigh. Always the same trouble. A few steps brought her close to the witch. Her finger found the big ring adorning the collar of her magical slave. A quick tuck and she had her slave starring at the very first cock Penny had yanked off for money.
"How long is this one?"
"Five and a half inches," Penny answered.
It was an old worn down path that repeated every time Bea brought a new client home. The next sentence was on her lips without a thought. "And how long was it when we first got it?"
"Barely three inches."
"That's right. Each time you serve one of my dicks they grow a tiny bit. Don't you want them to be big and firm? You do remember my promise, right?"
Bea's words drew Penny's gaze to the display of magnificent schlongs at the end of the room. "Each time you yank a clients penis clean off I fuck you with each of my cocks longer than eight inches. I do not force you to suck off all those small dicks. But you do know that if you are dedicated enough, those small pricks will one day join the big ones on the other wall. And then I will pound you with them too."
Penny gave a longing nod. Half lost in another daydream. Bea was having none of it. She tucked at the witch's collar and dragged her into the living room.
"Please excuse her appearance," Bea told the client. "And her smell."
The truth was that Penny reeked of cum. If one of Bea's dicks came then all of them did. While atrophied by years of hormone therapy they still produced some semen and nearly three hundred produced more than one dedicated maid could clean. Of course, Penny was always in the thick of it. Practically living in the dick treasury. Bea couldn't even remember when she had last seen Penny eat something besides cum or even sleep. Must be a side effect of the magic.
"Show us what you got so we can get over it."
The client didn't have to be told twice.
"Another small one," Penny said with a wince.
"Do it!" Bea urged her.
Once the deed was done, Bea left her client with the maid. Brittney would sort the newly made woman out and send her on the way. It was too much for Bea. Satisfied clients were always so clingy and joyful. Instead, she grabbed her personal witch's hand and led her to the bedroom. Time to fulfill her promise.
The teacher of a flock of young apprentice witches gave them a stern warning look. "What you will see in the next room will be shocking. It is a warning display of what can happen if you play fast and loose with magic. Especially done in anger. Mental discipline is paramount."
With those words, she led her students in and as predicted there were gasps and outcries of shock. It really was a grotesque view. Behind a wall of thick glass was a containment cell. It was filled to the brink with penises of all sizes. Half the room was flooded with semen. In between those schlongs were two dozen women. Lost in ecstasy and fucking.
"How could something this vile happen?" one apprentice asked.
The teacher turned around and fixed her students with a stern gaze. "One of these 'service drones' in there used to be a witch. In anger, she used magic to server the penis off of a man and magically link it to another host. Then, she did it again and again. By now we can say that the initial magic has gone haywire and has corrupting influences. The produced semen is highly addictive. We lost a few witches in the initial containment of the subjects and later due to negligence."
"Teacher?" One of the students pointed towards the grotesque display. "Why is that one not moving? She looks kind of serene."
The teacher gave a quick glance. "That's the host. I think her name was Beatrice. Every penis you see in there is linked to her. As far as we can tell she experiences one orgasm every second or even more. She is the focal point of her drones and was propped up by them as if sitting on a throne. She, herself, wouldn't be able to do so. Having a constant wave of orgasm erodes one brain. We do not think-"
"Teacher?"
"- that she is capable of thought anymore."
"Teacher!"
Annoyed, the teacher broke off. "What?"
"She is pointing at us!" one student pointed out.
The teacher whirled around and her eyes grew wide. The host really was pointing, but it was the movement around her that horrified the teacher. The drones gathered and then ran again the glass wall.
"Out! Now!" She shouted.
A few students hadn't waited to hear the order. They were already rushing for the door.
"It is locked!" one cried out.
The teacher arrived and found out it was the truth. Locked. And by magic no less. "If the host is still sentient and she learned to control magic-"
A crashing sound made them all snap around. A few pieces of the glass wall had shattered, while more and more fractures appeared.
"We are doomed," the teacher whispered. "Not just us. The world-"
A steady flow of cum poured out of the cracks. The puddle outside the containment grew until it reached the frightened group. Then there was this smell. Growing arousal. Every fear drained away. As one they turned towards the host and her magnificent treasure hoard of cocks.
~ the end? ~
Lizbeth stared at it. Laying on her bed. She had been sitting naked in front of it for an hour. Yes, she was shy. Unsure of herself. A lack of confidence, her chronic disease. But this?
With each minute the large dildo seemed to grow. Not that it actually did. Twelve inches - she measured it - laid in silicon glory before her. Already put in a strap-on. Ready to be worn.
It was her best friend Colette's idea.
"Just strap it on. Put a skirt on top. No one will know, but you. It is a power trip. You won't be the same. To walk around with such a monster between your legs. It will boost your confidence. I guarantee it."
Where had Colette gotten this monster of a dick? And the strap-on. Has she worn it before?
Well, Lizbeth was here. So was this oversized schlong. She might as well try it. Buckling the straps around her waist and hips was straightforward enough. With all belts tight, the base of the dildo was pressed against her. Making the silicon dick jut out obscenely.
"She wants me to go out like this? There is no way I can hide this."
The fake cock stretched out nearly at a right angle. There wasn't much sway either. It was so rigid she needed quite some strength to bend it downward. Lizbeth doubted she could cram this enormity into pants.
"Maybe if I layer skirts?"
It would have to be tight skirts. Maybe one of the many pencil skirts she had bought for work? Lizbeth struggled into one. No, the bulge was obvious. The silicon pressed against the fabric. One layer wasn't enough.
Maybe two layers? This was less of a struggle. And pulling the second skirt up added more fabric to restrain this fake member. Not good enough. A third. She needed a third. Grabbing one more pencil skirt did the trick. Nearly. There was still an outline. Faint. Someone had to be creative to imagine a phallic shape beneath it.
"It works!" She could hide the dildo. All twelve inches of it. But did she dare to go out?
She was already half-dressed. Maybe if she completed her outfit, she'll find the mental strength to actually step head out. But getting dressed was not as easy as she remembered. Not when one has a giant dildo dangling beneath. Moving around made it shift between legs. Making it bump from tight to tight. Her resulting ensemble was a lot like her work outfits. A tight sweater that flowed into her pencil skirt.
Sitting down to slip into her shoes made the dildo rest on her legs. Somehow it felt heavier. Had a weight and heft that just couldn't be right. Lizbeth chalked it up to her imagination. The implication made it heavier. To wear something this naughty and lewd beneath. If someone found out-
Now she was fully dressed. Ready to head out. At least physically. But was she mentally prepared?
"Just once," Lizbeth whispered to herself. "You just have to do this once. Now or never."
Taking a deep breath, Lizbeth grabbed her purse. Clammed it tight beneath her left arm. As if it was a liferaft. Her hands were shaky as she reached for the door. Opening it slowly. Then she stood ramrod straight before the threshold of her door.
Slowly, she lifted her left leg. Which, in turn, shifted the dildo and made it bump at her right leg. Startled, she put her foot down. Right on the threshold. No, her shoe reached slightly past it. It gave her the tiny bump in confidence she needed. She took a step. Then another.
"Good morning, Lizbeth."
The scare of her life was thanks to Miss Evensteen. An older lady living upstairs. The homey neighbor was coming down the stairs.
"Late morning?"
"No, I-" Lizbeth hesitated. In no way she could tell the truth. "Just going for a walk. I have a day off."
"Good for you."
To Lizbeth's horror, Miss Evensteen waited on her. Letting her go down the narrow stairway first that connected all apartments. Even the stairway's landings were small. That meant Lizbeth couldn't slip into her apartment again and hide. No, she had to fish for her keys and lock her apartment.
In silence, both neighbors walked down. With each step, Lizbeth was reminded of her dirty secret. Internally, she hunted for an excuse to turn around. Maybe she should claim that she had something forgotten in her apartment?
But she already reached the ground floor. Might as well step out. And so far, Miss Evensteen hadn't said anything. Her secret was safe. At least for now. It couldn't last, right?
"Have a nice walk."
"T-thanks."
Alright. Maybe just a quick walk around the block. Circle around and slip back in. No one would suspect anything. Lizbeth steeled herself and started walking.
Soon, paranoid thoughts filled her mind. Surely everyone was knowing her lewd secret. That she wore a twelve-inch dildo beneath her skirts. They've got to know. There was no way she could succeed. Had that man figured it out or had he just checked her out? Did the gaze of that passerby linger on her too long?
Each step she made bounced the dildo beneath her skirts and quickened her breathing. Made her eyes dart around more erratically. Nearly, she broke out in a jog. Her pace was that quick. That surely would draw gazes. Who runs in a pencil skirt? Only someone worth attention. That's who.
Lizbeth stopped. That nearly took all her willpower. Through conscious effort, she slowed down her breathing. Forced herself to calm down. She took a new look. Slowly panning around. No one was paying her attention. Not more than usual at least.
A giggle bubbled up and Lizbeth had to stifle it. She was getting away with it. A freakin' twelve-inch dildo - a huge monster of a cock - was strapped to her hips and no one knew. The realization flooded her mind and body. Or was it a new wave of adrenaline?
Lizbeth started to walk again. Strutted really. Her friend Colette had been right. It is a power trip. Lizbeth was in charge. A powerful secret for her to wield. Not just figuratively. Literally too. She still could feel it. With every step. No one knew, but her.
A last turn and Lizbeth was nearly at her apartment building again. Which would mean an end to this experiment. It had been worth it, she decided. Part of her didn't even want to stop anymore.
But then her gaze fell on the entrance. It was Miss Evensteen again. The old lady had never left as she was busy talking with another neighbor. It looked like she was in no hurry at all.
Lizbeth's mind was split. Should she wait until Miss Evensteen was done and then go back home? Or should she just push past? She had her walk after all. Maybe a little small, but that would still be believable.
Her mind bounced around both options and she turned around to mull it over. Lizbeth still hadn't come to a consensus when she arrived at the next street. Or she could keep going, Lizbeth suddenly realized. She had survived one block with a massive strap-on between her legs and no one noticed. Would two make a difference? Three? A dozen?
A deep breath and Lizbeth crossed the street. Further and further, her legs carried her. With each step, her posture gradually changed. Pushing back her shoulders. Her chest out. For once daring to look other people in the eyes instead of down to the street. Her heartbeat quickened. Not in panic. Excitement filled her. Sheer adrenaline. A rush entirely unknown to her flooded her body. A thrill she hadn't known existed now coursed through her veins.
Lizbeth only noticed she was walking downstairs when she was halfway down to the subway station. Right. This was her way to work. Subconsciously, she had followed the route most familiar to her. An idea blossomed in her mind. She might as well finish the route. A nice little trip downtown and back. It couldn't hurt.
The wait for the train was mercifully short. She even got a spot to sit down. That was a rarity. Then again, it was later than usual. After the morning rush, but before the lunch hour. Just as Lizbeth's butt met the seat, she realized the shift in posture might change the silhouette of the dick. Making it stand out more. But a quick glance down revealed that she was safe. Smoothing out the wrinkles of her pencil skirt revealed more, but it was quick enough that no one noticed.
Normally she would read on her way to work. It allowed her to avoid looking at other passengers. More importantly, it reduced the chance that some random person would strike up a conversation. Not today. Her book reader was at home. Left plugged in at the charger. But Lizbeth didn't mind. Not today. Not with a monster of a silicon dick between her legs.
Her gaze wandered. Studying each of her fellow passengers. Did that geezer over there notice her secret? Nope. What would the mother with her pre-school child say if they knew? Lizbeth would never know as her secret was safe.
The train arrived at the next stop. A few people left. Only two entered the train. One was a twenty-something woman. Fit. Expose for all in tight workout clothing. Probably taking the shortcut home from a run around the block. Her skin was still glistening with sweat. Normally, Lizbeth would be annoyed. Not today. She was drinking in the sight. The youthful look of her enhanced with the flush of a post-run high. The shapely form was sculpted by who knows how many hours of fitness training.
Lizbeth suddenly stopped. A bemused smirk briefly showed on her face before giving way to a confused frown. Just now, her thoughts had been unusual. Appreciative of another woman. Bordering on sexual. That wasn't her. Maybe wearing a strap-on messed more with her head than she anticipated. Confidence was one thing. Lizbeth wanted that. Whatever that has been she did not. It was too confusing. She was straight. Never looked at a woman like that.
No. It was the strap-on. Just crossing her wires somehow. A quirk of her mind. Nothing to worry about.
Just in time, Lizbeth reaffirmed herself. Only now noticing that this was her stop. Getting up and making a quick dash before the doors of the train could close again.
Here she was. Nearly at her work. Just up some stairs and walking down a block. Lizbeth decided to do it. Go the full round. Just close up to her work and then back home. If nothing else, just to distract herself from the strange thoughts running through her mind.
For once, the sidewalk was not a total hassle of avoiding other people. Not many were around. Skyscrapers stabbed into the sky all around her. Filled to the brim with offices. In one of those buildings, her workplace was hiding.
As Lizbeth set her pace, she started to notice the activities around her. The local restaurants and fast food joints opened up and prepared for the lunchtime rush. Even prepping the outdoor areas. One of the waitresses was wearing a slightly sheer blouse. How daring. Lizbeth would never do the same. Even less so at work. Still, it was slightly disappointing. If the blouse of the waitress had been a little more transparent, then Lizbeth could have made out-
Again, Lizbeth frowned. Nearly stumbling. "Get a grip," she mumbled to herself, before hurrying on. Her quickened pace reminded Lizbeth of the dildo between her legs. Bumping into each as it swung under her skirt like a pendulum. No, that wouldn't do. She had to calm herself. Slow down.
"Lizbeth!"
The shout drew her attention. It was her floor manager Anna. She came to her from the small smoking area in front of the skyscraper that housed the company she worked for. Still having a half-burned cigarette between her slim fingers.
"Did Barney reach you? It is so good to see you. I am surprised you got here so fast."
"What?" Lizbeth was confused. This must be some kind of misunderstanding. "I am just here for a walk."
"Doesn't matter," Anna waved her off. Then grabbed Lizbeth's arm and dragged her towards the entrance. "It is a godsend that you are here. You were involved in the Lil Lyn project, right?"
"The rapper?" Lizbeth asked, confused. "Yes, I worked with Brandy on the advertisement strategy."
"Brandy is sick," Anna said after flicking her cigarette towards the ashtray. Even managing a point landing. "Ruptured appendix. Or an infection? Something like that. She'll be in surgery by afternoon. The problem is that Lil Lyn is here and Brandy was supposed to hold a presentation. Assure our client. That kind of deal."
By now, Anna has successfully herded Lizbeth inside and to the elevator bank. Only letting go of her catch to press the button. "As her boss, that now falls onto my lap. I only know the outline of the project. The broad strokes. I need you to fill me in. Fast."
"Right." Lizbeth nearly let out a sigh. That shouldn't be hard. Just a few minutes and then she'll be out again. "I can do that."
The elevator doors opened with a pleasant 'ding' and they both squeezed in. Making them stand uncomfortably close together. Lizbeth could smell the flowery perfume of Anna. Was close enough to see the roots of a natural brunette under the dark brown of a dye job. She even got a good view of the painted red lips. They looked so kissable.
Lizbeth looked away. A blush came to her face. She shouldn't lust after other women. Especially not her own boss. This was not her.
To distract herself, Lizbeth rambled down the most important details. "The client is Lil Lyn. She started a clothing line called 'Lil Lyn's Secrets'. Most of it is lingerie. The original advertisement contract did go to Fuller & Murray. But Lil Lyn wasn't satisfied with the achieved sales numbers and decided to shop around for a new advertising agency. We won the contract and now have about two more months before the new line hits the shelves. Brandy and I-"
Lizbeth nearly shrieked as one of the passengers of the elevator left while squeezing past her. Pushing her in turn into Anna. For a moment, Lizbeth could swear her strap-on bumped into her boss. Panic welled up but was eliminated as Anna only let out an annoyed sigh. Not a shocked look or questioning look down. Lizbeth's secret was still safe. But for how much longer?
She started rambling again. Divulging more details about the project. Details flowed over her lips like a waterfall. A ding broke her concentration. The elevator doors opened. Finally, it was their stop. Lizbeth escaped the little cabin as if it was on fire. Taking a few hasty steps out before stopping and breathing in and out heavily.
"Lizbeth, are you alright?" She could feel her boss's hand on her shoulder. "I didn't know you had a problem with tight spaces."
"I usually don't," Lizbeth managed to say. But she didn't dare to explain. The risk of another push in a confined space. Possibly resulting in revealing her naughty passenger between her legs. But there was more. She never had been so close to Anna. Had drunk in her perfume. Studied her every detail up close. Marveled at the elegant flow of her eyebrows or noticed how prominent her cheeks were. And those lips. Those deep red lips.
"Catch your breath. But don't take too long. We are in meeting room fourteen twenty-eight and Lil Lyn will arrive within a half-hour."
Lizbeth felt a short pang of regret as the warm hand of Anna left her shoulder. That was strange. No, not just the small gesture. Everything was strange. Ever since she donned this cursed strap-on. Lizbeth was so ready to end this experiment. It was successful. There had been this plateau of confidence. She had felt it. But this was way out of control. Not part of the plan. But she was stuck. And with each step further Lizbeth felt like falling down deeper into a rabbit hole she didn't know existed.
"Just catch her up," Lizbeth whispered to herself. "A few more details. Then a hasty retreat. You can do it."
A few deep breaths in and out calmed her down further. As did brushing out imagined wrinkles in her outfit. Only to stop as she reminded herself that doing so with her skirt might reveal her secret. At last, there was nothing to do in her hunt for reasons to procrastinate.
She found Anna indeed in the named meeting room. Busy arranging bits and pieces. Small bottles of juices and lemonades. A can of coffee. Glasses and porcelain that completed it.
"Give me a hand?" Anna asked. But they both knew it was a polite way to frame an order. "Francine is still in mother time. Little Isabelle is cute, but she is robbing me of my right hand."
Right. Anna's personal assistant. Secretary. Gatekeeper to Lizbeth boss. Sometimes Lizbeth wondered how Francine didn't have three heads. Her voice could have the bite of a hellhound. How she managed to land a man was beyond Lizbeth. Still, while Francine was busy pushing out a new devil spawn the workers in the department breathed out a sigh in relief. And they had still a few weeks of peace left.
Normally, someone would temporarily take over Francine's job. But Anna hasn't named anyone yet. Which left Lizbeth in an awkward situation to help set up the meeting room. All too aware that every time she moved was another opportunity for her to be exposed. Her secret revealed. This could lose her job, Lizbeth realized.
"Okay. Nearly done," Anna proclaimed. "Once Lil Lyn and her entourage arrive, I need you to stand here. Behind me and to the side."
"What?" Lizbeth's eyes grew wide. Surely her boss wouldn't expect Lizbeth to stick around. Not with a monster of a fake dick between her legs. Then again, her boss didn't know about that. Yet. If this goes on, it was only a matter of time.
"I need you to service our guests. Or answer questions about details that I might not know. After all, you worked on this project."
Lizbeth gave a wooden nod. How much longer would this nightmare last? Now she had to go in front of a client too. The stakes - and with it the potential disaster - grew in spades.
"They're here."
Anna turned to greet her guests and Lizbeth did the same. Only to feel her face evacuate every drop of her blood from it. Her boss was here. Not just Anna. Her boss's boss. The owner of the company. A quick glance down assured her that her secret was still safe. But if this was going on she might as well faint on the spot.
Lizbeth remained in the background. Getting a good look at this rapper gracing them with her presence. Lizbeth didn't like dreads on white people. It always felt wrong for her. Then again, Lil Lyn wasn't completely white. She had some darkness to her skin. Was it simply a tan or her normal skin color. And contrary to others, Lil Lyn's dreads weren't bleached blond. She was a brunette. Save for strands dyed in blue, red, and green. Overall, it didn't look as bad as Lizbeth had first thought.
Then again those little tattoos everywhere definitely gave the rapper a rebellious look. A few on her face. More on her neck. Two barely concealed by the neckline of her skater dress. Lizbeth wondered how .much further those tattoos trailed down. Did they decorate her ample breasts? Even further? Down to her-
Blood rushed back into her face. Not those thoughts again. Lizbeth reminded herself that she had to get her mind out of the gutter. One she didn't even know she had. But those lewd thoughts might just be the death of her. At least, figuratively.
With everyone taking a seat, the presentation started. The very one Lizbeth helped to create. With each minute progressing Lizbeth grew more impressed with her boss. Despite only a quick introduction to the material, her boss was nailing the presentation. Leaving Lizbeth plenty of time for her mind to wander. Her eyes darted around the room. She couldn't look at the company's owner. That was too much stress. Lil Lyn? Nope. That could lead to naughty thoughts again. Definitely, she couldn't stare at Anna's bum. A fact she only became aware of after a few seconds passed.
"I don't get that influencer angle." Lill Lyn suddenly speaking up broke Lizbeth's absent-minded streak. "We tried that before. Not to too much effect. How is your approach different?"
Shit! This and a whole string of other curses run through Lizbeth's mind. This was one aspect she had only briefly explained to Anna. And by the way her boss froze, it is clear she doesn't remember. Any moment now, she will turn around and hand the question to Lizbeth. She wasn't ready for that. Not in the least. But it was inevitable. So, Lizbeth might as well take a leap of faith.
"Perhaps this is a question I should answer."
The relief on Anna's face was evident as she turned to look at Lizbeth. "Right. This is Lizbeth. She spearheaded the effort with the media influencers."
Spearheaded? Lizbeth nearly laughed out loud. But she caught that impulse in her throat. Anna's statement left the area of a white lie by quite a margin. Still, Lizbeth worked on it.
"Your previous advertisement agency reached out to Influencers too. And there lies the problem. The audience perceived that you, Lil Lyn, reached out to them. That you need the Influencers."
Lizbeth took a pause to wet her lips and get a beat on her audience. So far, she hadn't lost them. "We framed it in reverse. Spin a little tale so to speak. The narrative that the Influencers tell is that they heard of your new collection. That it was them who reached out trying to get a promotion from you. We want the Influencers' audience to get the impression that your new collection is desirable. Something special. Seeing their idols go out of their way to get their hands on it. Not us giving them money to promote it."
Silence settled over the room. Most eyes glanced to Lil Lyn who sat quietly at the head of the table. Having made up her mind, the rapper nodded and then broke out in a wide smile.
"See? That's why those flaccid losers of Fuller & Murray tanked it. Gotta reverse it. Spin the yarn, Sis. Yeah. Like it. Tell me more."
The nervous butterflies in Lizbeth's stomach finally settled. She had done it. Reaffirmed their client. She even got a small nod of approval from her CEO. Not to dawdle, Lizbeth obliged and filled her client in on the details.
Now and then, Anna helped out. But it was Lizbeth's show now. Her presentation. The spotlight on her. Her time to shine. And for the first time in a long time, Lizbeth didn't mind the attention. She even welcomed it.
An hour later the client and CEO had left. The whole delegation, save for Anna. Lizbeth was still coming down from her adrenalin rush when Anna came over.
"Thanks, Lizbeth. You really saved my bacon there. Without you, the presentation might have tanked. I didn't know you were such a good orator."
"I am not. Normally. Just found my groove today it seems."
"Well, I won't keep you any longer. It is your day off after all. Thanks again."
"You're welcome," Lizbeth said before turning to leave. Only to slightly stumble as something bumped into her leg. The strap-on. She had nearly forgotten. But now it dawned on her. She had given a presentation before an important client with a monster of a fake cock strapped between her legs.
The brief flare-up of panic was squashed by another emotion. The overwhelming feeling of confidence. She had ruled this presentation. With a freakin' dick wielded to her crotch. How badass was that? No one was the wiser. She had done it.
Head held high, Lizbeth left the office. Slowly she slandered down the street. A small smirk on her lips. One that didn't leave her on her train ride home. Or the walk to her apartment.
Once home, the tension released itself in form of a mad giggle. She had done it. Wore the strap-on way further than her friend Collette intended. And she came through it unscathed and the better for it.
In the privacy of her home, Lizbeth stripped down. And, at last, she removed the strap-on. To her surprise, with slight hesitation. Maybe, she vowed. Maybe she will do it again.
It was the next workday that got Lizbeth in a rush. She was already late and not even out of the door yet. Standing before her apartment door and straining to think. She knew she has forgotten something. Twice now she had gone through her purse, but this wasn't it.
She really should be going. Showing up late after giving such a good performance would taint the good impression. For a moment, Lizbeth's heart beat faster. Remembering her adventure. The naughty secret beneath. Shaking her head, she pushed those thoughts away. It was done. The experiment behind her. She was richer for it, but it had to end. Determined, she stepped out of her apartment.
But after only a few steps, Lizbeth turned around. Heading back into her apartment and straight to her bedroom.
"This is nuts, Lizbeth," she told herself as she shrugged off her skirt. With trembling hands, she reached for the strap-on. "Totally nuts."
But as she pulled the garment up and buckled it tight a sigh of relief escaped her lips. This was what she had missed. Lizbeth knew now without a doubt. As crazy as it was. Now, more relaxed, she made herself presentable again. More at ease, Lizbeth left her home. Walking confidently to the subway. Even there, she sat with her head held high. Not a shred of her nervousness of last time remained.
In good spirits, Lizbeth arrived at work. Even whistling a bit. Greeting security guards and co-workers in a friendly manner that was quite unlike her previous self. With a smile, she sat down in her cubicle.
"Lizbeth." A co-worker peeked over the partition of her cubicle. "Boss wants to see you. Said she wanted to see you as soon as you come in."
"Right. Thanks." The flare-up of nervousness in Lizbeth's stomach was brief. No, there was nothing to fear. She had done well. Anna probably called on her just to say thanks again.
Walking past the empty assistant's desk, Lizbeth knocked on the half-opened door. "You wanted to see me?"
"Yes. Good to see you, Lizbeth," Anna said as she stood up. Giving a warm smile and pointing to a chair before her desk. "Take a seat please."
Maybe it was a little more, after all. Still, Lizbeth's spirit remained high and steady. Taking the offered sear and even smoothing out her skirt. Risking exposing her not-so-little secret. The little thrill made her heart flutter in ecstasy.
"After the other day, I looked into you." Anna paused, but if she expected to successfully bait Lizbeth, she was up for disappointment. As Lizbeth remained quiet and confident, Anna continued. "Your work is good. Exceptional on occasion. I am not quite sure why you flew under my radar for so long. I see a lot of potential."
"Thank you," Lizbeth replied gracefully. Her head held high, shoulders pushed back and yet relaxed.
"As you know, my assistant Francine is away on maternity leave for a few more months. Temporarily, of course, but this will allow me to get to know you better. Maybe even to find a position in the company more fitting for you. What do you say."
"Of course, I accept," Lizbeth said without hesitation. Her old self wouldn't have. Nothing to put herself on the spot. The old Lizbeth was just fine with blending into the background. But those times are over, Lizbeth knew. With her new confidence, she was ready to take on the world. As long as she had her strap-on, she could do it. It was a silly notion, but that was how she felt.
"Glad to hear it," Anna said standing up. Offering Lizbeth her hand to shake. As Lizbeth did, Anna looked distracted for a moment. "Is that a new perfume? Pine and- Can't put my finger on the rest. But it suits you quite well."
"Thanks," Lizbeth replied confidently. Despite being confused inside. New perfume? As usual, she didn't wear any.
Chalking it up to Anna's imagination, Lizbeth turned her mind to the task at hand. Taking over Francine's responsibilities. Anna was there. Quite closely as she explained some details. Lizbeth didn't mind. And if she hadn't been so distracted, she might have noticed errant naughty thoughts of hers that sneaked back in.
By lunch, Lizbeth was in the flow. Working without the direction of Anna. But as her break came, it was time to face her old co-workers. To make it easier, they came by. Crowding her new desk in front of Anna's office.
Many expressed their surprise that Lizbeth got the position. Even if it was temporary. Most congratulated her. When some mentioned that Lizbeth had changed, she only smiled. Amusement rushed through her as they tried to guess what her secret was. If they only knew it was a fake dick. The thought nearly made Lizbeth laugh out loud.
However, it was an innocent little comment that derailed the whole discussion.
"You smell quite nice today, Lizbeth. So flowery."
"Flowery? Is your nose stuffy? That's clearly strawberries."
"It's neither. Reminds me of the ocean. The salty air. Quite nice."
As others voiced their opinion, Lizbeth excused herself. More confused than ever. First pine and now flowers, strawberries, and even ocean breeze? Somehow all couldn't be true.
Coming out of the toilet stall, the next ambush was while she washed her hands.
"Damn, Lizbeth. Your perfume is making me hungry. Chocolate scent is quite a bold statement."
Lizbeth shrugged. That couldn't be true. She even sniffed herself while in the stall. There was no smell. It must be a prank by her co-workers. Yeah, that must be it. Probably some good-natured ribbing as she had snatched away the coveted position.
The rest of the day passed without much more trouble - aside from a few more perfume guesses - and Lizbeth was ready to leave after her first day as a personal assistant.
"I am going home," she told her boss from the door.
"Have a good evening," Anna said while barely looking up, but then she did a second take. "I think you got something on your blouse."
A quick glance revealed nothing Lizbeth could find.
"Wait, I'll get it for you," Anna said while standing up. Coming over, she started to reach for Lizbeth's collar.
Her boss suddenly froze and stumbled. Lizbeth barely managed to catch and steady her. Anna looked dazed. As in trance. Breathing deeply. Slowly pulling closer to Lizbeth. A blush started to appear on her face and her lips parted slightly.
When Anna's legs touched hers, Lizbeth was reminded that there was something between her own that shouldn't be discovered. She gently pushed her boss away.
"Anna? Are you okay?"
"What? I-" Anna looked around confused. Then her blush deepened as she noticed how close she was to Lizbeth. "Fine," she pushed out, taking another step back. "Just a brief dizzy spell."
"Do you need some water?" Lizbeth offered.
"No. I am fine. See you tomorrow."
Bemused, Lizbeth made for the elevator bank. While waiting, her mind drifted back. Anna had been so close. Her lips were within reach and
inviting. As if waiting for Lizbeth to take advantage. For a moment, she regretted pushing Anna away.
The next day, Lizbeth was early on made aware that her smell was no prank. Despite forgoing any perfume, people commented on it. One woman on the train even leaned on Lizbeth. Letting her head rest on Lizbeth's shoulder until she spoke up. It was getting weirder by the minute.
On the elevator ride up, two of her female co-worker started to rub on her. Thankfully, her naughty secret wasn't exposed. Yes, she wore her strap-on again. The thought of going to work without it was suddenly unbearable. It was her good luck charm, she decided. Not that she ever believed in them before. But going out strapped was simply better. It gave her more than just confidence. A new outlook of life itself formed for her.
Confident, she walked out to the floor. Sauntering to her new desk in front of Anna's office. Before she sat down, she prepped her boss's office. A new pitcher of water to the side and a freshly brewed cup of coffee. Only then, she sat down.
And immediately shot back up. Something had felt strange. Off. As if-
Slowly, Lizbeth lowered herself again. There it was again. She had gotten used to her fake dick bumping against her legs. But this was new. As if she could feel the textile of her skirt on her fake dick. But that was nonsense. Once seated she hesitantly reached out. Touching the dildo through the fabric. And she could feel it. Not just the hard material under her fingertips, but them on her strap-on. As if the sex toy had become an extension of her.
No. It couldn't be true. She must imagine it. Maybe some kind of psychotic break? She has been under a lot of stress lately. And a lot changed recently too. Most of all, she changed. Becoming more confident. Assertive. At least, as long as she wore her strap-on. It was becoming part of her. No wonder her subconscious mind played tricks on her. Making the fake limb phantom feeling.
For now, Lizbeth pushed her discovery to the side. Maybe with time, it would sort itself out. Work helped to distract her. But now and then, there was a lull in her workload. And then she became aware. Felt the hard silicone push and rub against her skirt. Worst of all, Liz discovered she kind of liked the feeling. It was erotic in a way. No wonder she was flush with arousal by the time of her lunch break.
Excusing herself, Lizbeth headed to the restroom. Taking the furthest stall and locking herself in. Now was the time to destroy the illusion. Her mind could pretend her dick was real as long as she didn't see the reality. But stripping her skirts would reveal the truth. Nothing but silicone. Then her mind would snap back and get rid of the distraction.
Plan in hand, she stripped her skirts. And, at last, there she stood. Naked from the waist down, safe for the strap-op and the dildo trapped by it. Jutting out obscenely. It was clearly fake. Not a part of her. And if she now touched it, her subconscious mind would realize too.
But tapping on it brought no such relief. Grabbing it only strengthened the feeling. Lizbeth felt her palm on it. How the fingers rested around it. For whatever reason, it felt real.
On instinct, she gave her fake member a stroke and nearly cried out. Cut off just in time by her left hand clamping on her mouth. It felt good. Too good. It made Lizbeth panic again.
This was unnatural. Against nature. But what Lizbeth shocked most was the realization that she liked it. With haste, she dressed again. Now was not the time to experiment. And she would, Lizbeth decided. As wrong as it was, she was intrigued. And horny. That might play a role in clouding her mind.
Clearly flustered, she left the restroom. Hurrying back to her desk. Hastily consuming her lunch and then going back to work. But no matter how hard she tried, there was always that little voice in her head. Urging her to explore this strange and fascinating development.
By the time Lizbeth arrived at home, she was a mess. She needed relief. Urgently. She also dreaded it. What if it was real? Real enough to actually cum through it. There was only one way to find out.
Stripping everything but her strap-on, she headed to her bedroom. Her bum had barely touched her bed when the urge became too strong. Stroking her fake member for all it was worth. It felt good. It could feel better. There was too much resistance for her hand to stroke this monster of a dick smoothly.
Without letting off, Lizbeth scooted up. Until she could reach for her side-table. There Lizbeth found what she was looking for. A half-empty tube of lube. For the rare occasions when she needed pleasure through one of her toys. Not that she had many.
Once lubed up - and her hand gliding over the surface - Liz stroked her dildo for all it was worth. Steadily her breath quickened. Her arousal increased with each stroke. Ramping up to-
Lizbeth howled in frustration. It felt good. But it was not enough. At least, to actually cum. The urgently desired continued to slip her grasp. After a small eternity, Lizbeth had enough. Her hands hurried to undo the buckles. To shed the strap-on she had just revered so much. With abandon, she plunged her fingers into the needy part of herself. Only to howl her relief out in moans seconds later. Finally, she had cum. Hard. Rarely had she felt this good.
Lying on her back - her breathing still heavy, but calming down - her gaze fell to the side and the discarded strap-on. She couldn't feel it. Not anymore. Hesitant, she reached out. Tapped with her fingers on it. Nothing. It was just a piece of silicon trapped with leather. Nothing more.
< HR>
The next morning, Lizbeth was split. Once again holding the strap-on in her grasp. Should she wear it again? After everything that happened yesterday. It had been scary, yet also exhilarating.
At last, she donned the strap-on again. It was part of her now. Something Lizbeth would miss if she went outside without it. On the way to the subway she half jogged. Making her secret bump with every step. Yet there was no choice. Else she might arrive late for work.
It was on the train when she sat down breathing hard. Lizbeth could feel it. Again. The material glided over her silicone member with every breath she took. For a second she felt proud. Who else could claim to have such an intimate connection to a mere object? Was she unique? But then reality dawned on her. Today, she had to endure the teasing and vexing of her dildo for the full workday.
She could do it, Lizbeth decided. Her old self would have run at the prospect. But she had confidence now. Maybe a little too much. Instead of a hurdle, she now saw a challenge.
Arriving at her desk, she found a bouquet of red flowers. Before Lizbeth could read the card, Melanie - one of her co-workers - spoke up. "I thought you'll like them. Saw them on my way to work and I was reminded that your new desk is kind of empty-"
What was wrong with her? Lizbeth was confused. Melanie wasn't someone to suck up to others. And the way she spoke to Lizbeth. Hesitant. Flustered. Nearly stumbling over her own words. It reminded Lizbeth of her time trying to get a date for prom night. It had been her who had exhibited all those symptoms.
But that couldn't be it, right? Melanie having a crush on her? Lizbeth knew her for years. Never had there any sign of that. Not to mention that Lizbeth was sure that Melanie had a long-term boyfriend. She was probably imagining things again.
"Thank you," Lizbeth finally said. Taking the bouquet and giving it a sniff. "These are lovely."
"I am glad." Melanie beamed at her. "Well, I- Better go back to work. See you."
Unsure what else to do, Lizbeth made a quick detour to the break room. Grabbing a vase. Yet she should have grabbed two as another visitor with flowers already stood at her desk. And by the end of the morning, three more female co-workers had come by and left flowery arrangements. With each one, Lizbeth's confusion grew. Whatever was up with her affected those around her. She just couldn't chalk it up to a prank anymore.
Work brought her relief. It distracted her not just from the unusual behavior of her female co-workers. It also distracted her from her netherly addition. She could still feel it. But by now she had gotten used to it enough that it didn't feel as strange anymore. Still has part of her, but not as urgently begging for her attention. At times Lizbeth couldn't even tell that she was wearing a strap-on. As if the leather and belts didn't exist anymore. Honestly, she was glad. Lizbeth knew she was still new to the personal assistant position and couldn't screw it up. So, less distraction might be good.
As lunch rolled around, Lizbeth was in a good mood. Already contemplating where to eat, she first headed to the restroom. She needed to pee quite urgently. Taking a stall, she peeled off her skirts. But as she grabbed for the leather of her strap-on, her fingers only caught air.
Looking down, her eyes grew wide and she nearly screamed out. There was no more strap-on! It was gone. As if she had forgotten to wear it today. Yet something remained. Lizbeth had grown a dick. Balls and all. It looked shrunken. Not the twelve inches of the dildo she strapped to herself this morning. Still impressive though.
Reluctantly, Lizbeth reached for it. The warmth in the palm of her hand clued her in that the flesh was real. This was definitely not silicone. What should she do now? Women don't just grow dicks, right? Or fuse dildo's to their groin. Was she having a psychotic break? No, it felt too real to be a hallucination. Not to mention that she still felt the urge to pee.
Reluctantly, Lizbeth sat down on the porcelain throne. Figuring out what came next could wait. First, she had to urinate. Which was easier said than done. She had to scoot back a bit so her new endowment wouldn't touch the porcelain. Then letting go took a moment. Relief flooded her. Well, that was one problem taken care of.
Suddenly, Lizbeth found herself before a new problem. How to dry off her new body. Shake? She had heard men do that. A simple shake and done, right? But it didn't work for her. Some remained. Maybe with toilet paper? Taking a few pieces, she gave it a wipe. Better. But she better be through. Who knew how long this unusual circumstance would last. But as she took a few more swipes a new problem arose.
Her new cock firmed up. Slowly hardening more and more. Lizbeth knew she should stop it. Yet something in the back of her mind urged her on. Discarding the paper tissue, she went for outright strokes. As her new limb grew hard, it took on a familiar form. This definitely was the dildo originally placed into the strap-on. Just made flesh and fused to her.
For a moment, Lizbeth stopped. Her heart split between the magnificence of what stood out of her groin and the grotesqueness it inherently possessed. She knew it was not normal for a woman to have a penis, yet it felt so right. As if it belonged there, but has been missing all her life. Lizbeth was intrigued. Not that she would say so allowed. But definitely, she would experiment with this new development when she came home. Hopefully this time, now made out of flesh and blood, it would allow her to reach an orgasm. Else, she might be doomed. A quick check below her new addition revealed the absence of her previous sex.
Now, she needed to put that trouser snake away and get back to work. But that was easier said than done. Her dick wasn't just hard, it stood stubbornly at attention and refused to go down. Pushing and prodding it didn't help. Her fumblings made it just more erect. Lizbeth needed a different approach.
What do men do with unwanted erections? Right. She had to think of something non-sexual. If she was attracted to men then-
Images flooded her mind. Anna leaning close to her. Her lips were invitingly open. Melanie, in her revealing dress and her cute blush. The two co-workers who had ground themselves at Lizbeth the day before in the elevator.
No. Lizbeth couldn't deny it anymore. She was attracted to women now. Not just a little. Her mind drifted off. With her new cock, she could actually have sex with women. Needed to, really. After all, a dick was made for that, right?
The spasming of flesh in her hand pulled Lizbeth out of her head and back to the matters at hand. Instinctively, she had continued to stroke her member. And now she found out that an orgasm was indeed a possibility. The afterglow made her sink deeper on her seat and let out a sigh. This was nice. Not bad at all. Different from a female orgasm for sure. Lizbeth didn't mind at all.
Then her eyes opened and focused. Taking in the mess she made. She had cum alright. But this time, not just figuratively, but literally too. Lizbeth had shot a load out. Making a mess of the toilet stall. Cursing, she started to grab for toilet paper but stopped as the next impossible thing unfolded itself.
Part of her skin around her waist and groin darkened. It took on details as if Lizbeth had a tattoo. But it became more as skin started to push out. Slowly taking shape and separating. Her strap-on was returning. Unfusing from her body and becoming something entirely inanimate again. Even her magnificent dick returned into silicone form. Yet not as erect and ready for action as before. It froze in the position of spent action.
Lizbeth's first instinct was to grab for the buckles. But she hesitated. She couldn't just take it off. Where would she put it? Walking out of the restroom with it in hand? No, it had to remain strapped to her until Lizbeth's workday was done.
She sighed. There was still the mess she made. Grabbing for toilet paper, Lizbeth started to clean up. Hopefully, the smell of semen wouldn't linger. Else she might be in trouble. And she prayed to whatever god or goddess was out there that no one would shine a UV light in here.
At last, Lizbeth was able to pull up her skirts and make herself presentable. Next on her agenda was to hit the sink. Her hands still vaguely smelled of the misdeed. But as Lizbeth exited the stall, she froze in shock. Anna - her boss - had just entered the restroom.
"Keep cool," she reminded herself. Heading with fried nerves to the sink. Apparently, Anna had the same idea, but for a different reason. Placing down a small makeup bag to freshen up her office warpaint.
Lizbeth was nearly done and out when she heard her name be called. A shudder went through her. Had she messed up? Was something betraying her?
"You got something on your skirt there."
Lizbeth looked and nearly fainted. How could she miss this? There was a big glob of cum clinging to her fabric. She needed something. A distraction. Better yet, a lie.
"That's Uhm. I must have spilled some of my ranch dressing."
"Dressing?" Anna came closer. "I didn't see you eat."
Before Lizbeth could dig her grave deeper, Anna swiped the glop off her with a finger. Frozen in oncoming panic, she could only watch as her boss lifted her finger and took a whiff.
"Hmm. Smells delicious."
The shock made way for confusion. Lizbeth would describe the smell of semen in many ways, but none of them would come even close to delicious. Any form of appetizing was way off track.
Yet, it got worse. Lizbeth could only stare wide-eyed as Anna lifted her finger further up and licked the naughty remains up. What followed was a deep and satisfying moan. As if her boss just had a minor orgasm herself. That sure was not normal.
"Heavenly," Anna purred to Lizbeth's horror. "Where did you get it? I never had a dressing this good."
Lizbeth's mind raced. Never mind that she had caught a lucky break and her boss actually bought that this had been salad dressing. She needed a lie. A good one.
"Homemade," she eventually squeaked out. Can't have her boss hunt down a product or place that doesn't exist. "Old family recipe."
"Well, it is really delicious. Next time would you be so kind as to bring some extra? I'd love to have more than a quick sample."
"S-sure," Lizbeth pressed out and fled the restroom before anything worse could happen. Not that she could imagine anything worse. But she didn't want to tempt fate.
Letting herself fall heavily in her chair, Lizbeth contemplated what happened. It was one thing to have feelings through an inanimate object. That could be explained through phantom limb syndrome or something. Something mental. But this? The strap-on and dildo had become part of her. Switched from leather and silicone to flesh and blood. She even shot a load. This couldn't be explained by science.
Magic? What else might there be? Lizbeth had never believed in magic. Sure, she had her teenage years were she had a crush on a handsome stage magician who had been popular at the time. But that was stagecraft. Smokes and mirrors. Nothing but an illusion. Not real magic.
Maybe she was cursed. If magic was real then so were curses, right? But was the curse on her or maybe an object. Either the strap-on or the dildo. If so, did Colette know? Her friend has given her both after all. This warranted some experimentation. Not here. At home, where she couldn't be surprised by her boss.
Looking around, Lizbeth saw no one. Hesitantly, she tapped on the dick under her skirts. Nothing. No feelings through it. But how long would that last?
To distract herself, Lizbeth devoured her lunch. This time her real one. Not the one she invented for alibi's sake. Now and then tapping on her dildo when no one was looking. It was a half-hour later that Lizbeth got a response. She started to feel through the silicone again. But the strap-on was still there and she couldn't feel it. So, maybe it was the dildo that was cursed.
An hour later, she barely felt the belts and buckle of the strap-on under her skirt. Placing her hand where one belt was, Lizbeth could feel it receding. Fusing back into her skin. Until the fabric of her skirt lay flat on her skin once more. It didn't need a peek under the garment to know her dildo was once again flesh, blood, and an intimate part of her.
For a moment, Lizbeth contemplated heading to the restroom again. Giving herself a quick handjob and returning the appendage below to its original form. At least, she hoped it worked like that. Prayed really that it did. But no. Just a few more hours and Lizbeth could head home. There, she could experiment in peace. Going to the restroom now only courted disaster.
Those few hours stretched to eternity. Why did her office have to have so many female co-workers? Lizbeth never noticed before, but now it was obvious to her. More than once she caught herself daydreaming as one of them walked past. And plenty of them did. As if those co-workers put on a show. Just for Lizbeth. Or her naughty secret below. Lizbeth two - she couldn't call that monster down there little - woke up for each. Hardening on the merest provocation.
Each time it did, Lizbeth prayed for it to go back to sleep. She had gotten used to the constant feeling of a stiff dildo against her skirt. But her flesh and blood dick was definitely more sensitive. And to her shame, she could feel her tip growing wet. Pre-cum, she reasoned. Something Lizbeth shouldn't have in the first place.
When her workday ended, Lizbeth nearly trampled down her co-workers. She needed to get out of here. To get home and find relief. Or else she might do something stupid. Like asking one of her co-workers for a one-night stand. Which, as absurd as it sounded in Lizbeth's head, was a possibility. At least, if she interpreted the looks she got right. No, Lizbeth definitely wasn't ready for that. It would admit to herself that she was now a full-blown lesbian. There was also the small detail of revealing her secret below to the world.
No, Lizbeth rather rushed home. Waited impatiently for her train to arrive. Nearly shoved an older lady aside when she exited it again. Barely acknowledged Miss Evensteen as she was greeted arriving at the apartment building. Lizbeth practically threw her front door shut, only to curse as it failed to lock and swing back open again. Finally safe, she wasted no time. Stripping out of her garments on her way to the bedroom.
She was about to jump on her bed when Lizbeth's reflection caught her attention. Intrigued, she walked to her full-sized mirror. There she stood. Naked and in all her glory. Her third limb - the reattached dick - stood out. Stood apart too, as it was fully erect again and ready for action. Turning a little left and then right, Lizbeth marveled at the sight before her. The cock looked like it belonged between her legs. As if it should've been always there. Nature must have made a mistake giving her female genitals. Now that she saw this sight, she felt a sudden calmness. An inner peace she hadn't known was missing from her life.
Gently she started to stroke her powerful appendage. Felt the muscles beneath the skin. Her need rose higher and higher. Lizbeth adjusted her stroking speed to it. It didn't take long for her to explode. Cumming all over her own reflection.
In a post-orgasmic glow, she stumbled back and fell on her bed. Lazily looking down and witnessing the change back. It filled her with regret. As if part of her was missing again. Soon, she felt belt, buckles, and leather on her skin once more. Yet Lizbeth didn't act. This time not stripping out of the garment. Instead, she waited. Watched. Hoped that it would soon fuse to her again.
Lizbeth woke to a new feeling. With a grin, she reached down and laid hand on her morning wood. She had gone to bed wearing the strap-on - after many times shooting her load - and hoped to wake up like this. Ready for the day. But first, she squeezed one more out. Which - sadly - made her body expel the strap-on and dildo again.
It got faster, she noticed. After a quick breakfast and shower, the strap-on and dildo had already fused to her again. Yesterday, it had taken about one and a half hours for the garment to refuse. This morning it only took about thirty minutes. Her old self might have said that the curse got worse. The new Lizbeth counted it as a blessing and one that kept improving.
With a spring in her step, she left for work. The tedious task of the commute was now brightened by a new hobby: people watching. Old Lizbeth had buried her nose in a book and avoided staring people in the eyes. But it was much more fun to openly ogle the women on the train. Mentally ranking them and sorting them if she would do them or not.
A few women caught on. Most were annoyed by Lizbeth's lecherous starring. Yet something strange happened. The longer she stared at someone, the less they seemed to mind. Even getting flustered and excited by Lizbeth's attention. If only she hadn't had to go to work. Lizbeth was sure she could have swayed any of these fine ladies to share her bed for the night. Or day. A certainty that bordered on instinct. Previously, Lizbeth would have questioned the development. But more and more she didn't care for the why. Instead, she enjoyed the benefits.
Arriving at work in a good mood, it only improved throughout the day. Lizbeth got plenty of attention from her co-workers. At least, the female ones. The men gave her the stink-eye when they thought Lizbeth wasn't looking. Sadly, she had to disappoint most of the co-workers that vied for her attention. She had work to do and despite reveling in her new feelings and attention, Lizbeth prided herself on a job done well.
It was a few minutes before lunch when Lizbeth felt someone touching her shoulder. It was her boss, Anna.
"Say, Lizbeth." Anna looked awfully flustered. Embarrassed even. "That dressing yesterday. You don't have something of it by chance with you? The taste- I can't get it out of my head. I was so good and I'd love to get more of it. I'll even pay you."
Was Anna begging for Lizbeth's cum? She nearly laughed out loud at the thought. Yesterday, the fact that Anna had swiped and licked a glob of semen had her horrified. Now, it was amusing. Hilarious even. How funny would it be to bottle up her jizz and bring it to work? Just to feed it to her boss.
"Sorry. Didn't bring any with me. Maybe tomorrow."
Anna didn't just look disappointed at the reply. She was heartbroken. As she excused herself and went back to her office, Lizbeth felt bad. Part of her wanted to help Anna out. Not because she understood the obsession of her boss about cum. To Lizbeth, it was still disgusting. It was for entirely selfish reasons. The mental picture that unfolded in her mind was just so tempting. Anna - with her oh so kissable lips - on her knees. Taking Lizbeth member to a joy-ride her mouth and throat. Would it feel good? Obviously. Why else rave men about it? But was it enough to risk everything?
Because Lizbeth was aware that going into her boss's office and pulling down her skirt would reveal her most guarded secret. It would be an offense that might get her fired. Probably would. Provided the HR department caught wind of it. Surely Anna would rat her out. Right?
But the more Lizbeth thought about it, the more she developed doubts. Not just she was different. All the women around her acted strangely. Most of all Anna. She practically begged Lizbeth for a second taste. Heck, Anna swooned and nearly fainted when being close to her. As if her smell alone was enough to get her close.
Lizbeth stood up. She was about to do something stupid. That, she knew. Yet, she didn't really care. Even if they fired her with her newfound confidence and sway with the women, how long would it take her to get a new job? Might as well risk it.
Stepping into her boss's office, she closed the door. That alone got her the attention of Anna. As Lizbeth closed the blinds, it was obvious something was up.
"Lizbeth? You want something?"
"What would you do for a little bit more of my dressing?" Just the perking up of Anna as Lizbeth mentioned the dressing made her grin. Slowly, she got closer. "Because I didn't lie. It is handmade. Maybe you can give me a hand with it."
With those words, Lizbeth pushed her skirts down. Just enough that they fell of their own to the floor. Stepping out of her discarded garments, she presented her already hard member to Anna.
Her boss's eyes widened. "Is that- I didn't know you were-"
Steeping even closer, Lizbeth witnessed as Anna breathed in deeply. At once, her boss looked flustered, aroused, and a bit dazed. "I really shouldn't-" Despite her words, Anna slipped out of her chair. Fell to her knees right before Lizbeth. Her head was now the right level to worship her assistant's erect meat. For a moment, she reached out with her hand but stopped mid-motion. Instead, she leaned forward. Anna opened her mouth and extended her tongue to carefully take a first lick of the head of Lizbeth's dick. Just to get a taste of precum.
It was a change of a split second. One moment Anna was hesitant. The next she eagerly serviced Lizbeth's cock. Licking the whole shaft. Lubricating it thoroughly. But it was not enough. Lizbeth had an amazing few as Anna switched to giving fellatio. Plunging Lizbeth's member deep down her throat. It felt amazing. Better than her own hand for sure. Anna's throat was moist and oh so tight. Squeezing and massaging most of her impressive length.
It was no wonder that Lizbeth didn't last long. Shooting a massive load down Anna's throat who did her best to not waste a single drop. Spent, Lizbeth tried to extract her long cock, but Anna fought her for it. Her boss was unwilling to let go of her new object of obsession. Thankfully, Anna still had to breathe and when she let go to take a one, Lizbeth stepped back. Creating some space between them.
In the silence that followed it was Anna who spoke up first. "That was quite something. I didn't know giving head could be this fulfilling."
Lizbeth had her doubts. What does a woman get out of giving head? Isn't it a rather one-sided interaction? Only the one with a dick was receiving pleasure. Then again, Anna looked plenty satisfied. As if she had the orgasm instead of Lizbeth.
Plenty of responses ran through Lizbeth's mind. How does one follow up on such a statement without sounding like a jerk? Not to mention the few puns that came to mind. Instead, she remained silent. Used it to study Anna. She looked content. As if every worry had drained away from her. But then Anna's expression changed. Confusion now showed. Did her boss figure it out? That what happened couldn't have been normal. There was magic in play here after all.
Anna raised her hand. Pointing to Lizbeth's crotch. "I don't understand. It was real. I swear it was."
Looking down, Lizbeth noticed that she once again wore a strap-on. No wonder Anna was confused. "Magic?" she offered. "I mean that is how I explain it. Not that I really know. Either the dildo or the strap-on must be magic."
Anna leaned back. An astonished look on her face. But behind those wide eyes, Lizbeth could see a sharp mind already working hard.
"How?"
Where was Lizbeth to start? Maybe it was best to go back to the beginning.
A few hours later, Lizbeth was back at her desk. She had told Anna everything. Well, mostly. All the events that happened, she did mention. Just a few details Lizbeth failed to mention. Or the extent of some others. And while Lizbeth was glad that she could work the last two hours without disturbances, there were worries in the back of her mind.
Anna had absorbed Lizbeth's story quietly. Only now and then asking questions. She took it surprisingly well. Not like Lizbeth, who had been close to panic at some points. Now, Lizbeth worried that the other shoe would drop. Surely there would be ramifications. She had, after all, coerced her boss to give her oral sex. At work no less.
"Lizbeth." The one word spoken from Anna from behind nearly made her jump out of her seat. Slowly she turned around. Anna stood in the doorway to her office. She looked flustered. "Could you come into my office for- Uhm? The Dustin & Monroe project. We need to talk about it."
Lizbeth had no doubt that this was not the case. That project had concluded for a while. Bracing herself, Lizbeth stood up and walked past Anna into her office. She wasn't surprised as Anna closed the door. Or that she locked it and shut the blinds. In her mind, Lizbeth knew what followed could only lead down one of two paths.
Instead of taking her seat, Anna chose to stand. Hovering near Lizbeth. She looked nervous. "Say, you mentioned that it takes about an hour and a half for it to fuse to you again, right?"
Lizbeth could already see where this conversation headed. She had dreaded it, yet also desired this outcome. Her own nervousness ebbed away. Replaced by confidence and a hint of playfulness.
"I did," she simply said.
"Can I-" Anna broke off. The flustered look on her face deepened. Now and then her eyes darted away from Lizbeth and further down. "I mean, could we-"
Lizbeth gave a small nod. One more for herself than Anna. She had suspected as much. Her new smell that now attracted women had been a good hint. The magic at work. Making sure Lizbeth could bed any woman she desired. And Anna's raving about the taste was the magic guaranteeing it could happen again.
But now, Lizbeth, knew it was more than that. She saw it in Anna's eyes. The need that spoke through them. The slight tremble in her hands that her boss tried to hide. A slight sheen of sweat coated her skin and dampened her hair. There was no doubt about it. Anna was addicted. She craved Lizbeth spunk after only one dose. No, even less. The one little taste in the restroom might have been enough.
It shifted the power dynamic in the room drastically. Anna might be still her boss officially, but between the two of them, Lizbeth knew she had the upper hand. Maybe she should have been concerned about it. Probably should. Yet Lizbeth wasn't old self either. The magic had messed with her head as much as Anna's. Maybe even more. And new Lizbeth liked it. For once, she was holding all the good cards. Had the edge.
"Say it," Lizbeth commanded with a sardonic grin. "I want to hear it."
"I- " Anna broke their locked gaze. Blushing, while turning away. Not for long. The need was too strong. "I want to suck your dick."
Want or need? But Lizbeth didn't point out the difference. It might push Anna away. She didn't know how strong her hold was over her.
"Well, normally I'd insist on a dinner at least before- You know." Of course, Lizbeth's words were a facade. She didn't go on blind dates, one-night stands, and rarely dated. But that was before she found the confidence she now had. And it demanded that Anna jumps through hoops to get to her prize. Just like Lizbeth had to jump through hoops in the past.
Standing up, Lizbeth was eager to find out how far her new influence would carry her. "Kneel."
There was only a moment of hesitation before Anna once again sank down. Lowering herself before Lizbeth. Ready to worship the new center of her universe. Lizbeth liked this new view. The graceful beauty that was Anna brought down low before her. Once, Lizbeth looked up to her. Now the roles have reversed.
As Lizbeth pushed down her skirts, Anna was ready to pounce, but Lizbeth held her head back with one hand. "Not yet." There was pleading in her eyes, but Anna held back. Waiting for Lizbeth's okay even though there was no patience left in her. Lizbeth enjoyed the power to make Anna wait. But it was also an experiment. What was stronger? The need running through Anna's veins or the influence Lizbeth had over her through an order. For now, the latter proved to be the winner.
"Now, you may."
At once, Anna lost control of herself. Eagerly taking Lizbeth's unnatural girth into her mouth. Pumping and sucking as if her life depended on it. Not that it was. Lizbeth was sure of it. Mostly. Thoughts then became muddled as Anna worked her own magic. She certainly had a skillful tongue.
It didn't take long for Lizbeth to spend herself in Anna's waiting mouth. A moment later sinking down in her chair, while Anna slumped to the side. A silly grin on her face. The view, Lizbeth quite enjoyed. But there was more to find out. Anna's need was satisfied for right now. With it gone, was Lizbeth's control over her diminished?
"Anna?" The woman at her feet perked up. "Do you think I can go out like this? Clean me up."
There was only a slight hesitation before Anna got the meaning. She started to use her mouth again. Licking whatever spilled juices were left on the dick that returned back to silicone right under her lips and tongue.
Lizbeth took her time. Waiting about five minutes. Not that she could feel the administrations Anna provided. It was the feeling of power she enjoyed. To have Anna perform a task that was in some regards futile in itself. Only when Lizbeth had her fill of power, she gently corrected Anna. "I meant with a tissue."
Her boss looked up. Understanding blossomed in her mind. Not the most logical meaning had come to her mind. No, she had willingly disgraced herself further. Blushing even deeper, Anna jumped up. Hunting for a few tissues she had stashed in her desk.
The real cleaning was quicker. Not that Lizbeth minded. Once clean enough, Lizbeth stood up and properly dressed again. It was time to make her exit. But not before concluding it the right way.
"Has this 'talk' gone the way you hoped?" Anna gave her only a shy nod, which was not in the least satisfactory for Lizbeth. "Speak up."
"Yes," Anna piped up. Then softer, she added: "Thank you, Lizbeth."
Lizbeth left her with a magnanimous "my pleasure" and a warm smile.
Lizbeth stretched lazily on her bed. A glance at her clock told her it was about ten in the morning. Maybe it was time to get up. Or not. It was Saturday after all. Lizbeth had woken up an hour ago. Along with a stiff member that had its own way of getting up in the morning. Of course, she couldn't resist. Giving herself a quick handjob. It was still good. But not as good as Anna's wet throat had felt.
Her asset in question was already fused to her again and ready for another round. Which meant two things. For one, the time needed shrank further. It also gave her a reason to laze around even longer in bed. After all, could one more round hurt?
She reached down, but her hand never made it to her dick. Her mobile phone suddenly rang up a storm. Annoyed, Lizbeth slumped down again. "Who the hell calls me this early? On a Saturday no less." Grabbing the phone, she spied an unfamiliar name on the display. The impulse to let it go to voicemail was there But what if it was some emergency? More than a bit grumpy, she answered. "Yes?"
"Lizbeth?" It was Anna's familiar voice. "Sorry to disturb you."
"Don't worry. You are not disturbing anything important," Lizbeth assured her. For a moment, her hand wandered downstairs. Contemplating jacking off to Anna's sweet voice. But then she hesitated. Maybe she should see what Anna wanted first. Hopefully not an emergency shift at the office. "So, what is up?"
"Well- Yesterday you suggested we'd get together for dinner." Did she? Lizbeth couldn't remember anything in that regard. "And I thought, why wait? I mean, how about now? Lunch I mean. I can cook for you."
Something in Anna's tone jerked Lizbeth out of her lazy torpor. Was there a certain need coming through. Right. Anna's addiction. Why had Lizbeth thought her boss could last a weekend without her? No, she needed a fix. The invite to lunch was just an excuse. One that Lizbeth was more than willing to grant. Lunch sounded good. And Anna as dessert even better.
"I'll be there. Send me the address."
"See you then."
Anna sounded relieved. Not that Lizbeth had expected anything else. Hanging up, she reached for her member again. No, she decided against it. After all, Anna took way better care of it anyway.
With a lunch date suddenly on her schedule, Lizbeth heaved herself off the bed. Time to decide what to wear. Pulling open her wardrobe revealed a bleak outlook. When had all her clothes become wallflower garments? Stuff to blend in the background. Designed to be overlooked. Lizbeth was stumped. Had that been a conscious decision or had it snuck up on her?
"Whatever," she exclaimed with a shrug. Boring wasn't her anymore. Neither was being a wallflower. Maybe after her get-together with Anna, it was time to go shopping. Pep up her wardrobe a bit. Throw out some of her old stuff. No, who was she kidding? Most of it, if not all.
For now, she decided on one of her office outfits. At least in a white blouse and black pencil skirt, she could pull off a professional look. Maybe even domineering. With her decision made, it was time to head to the shower.
Lizbeth was early by a few minutes. Walking into one of the nicer apartment houses downtown just with a small purse and a bottle of wine. One that cost her an arm and a leg, but it had hurt less than showing up with a cheap vintage or none at all. Lizbeth had her pride. A recent development, but one she wouldn't back off from now.
Being led in by the concierge, Lizbeth marveled at the luxuriously designed interior. This was living. For a moment, she felt jealous. It was her right to live like this too, but her finances told another story. One day, Lizbeth promised herself.
The elevator got her to the twenty-fifth floor. She didn't need to ring as Anna was waiting for her. Quite eager actually. Herding Lizbeth in. Just a look fanned Lizbeth's jealousy again. Anna's apartment was generously cut. A large central floor opened up to a large living room to the left. Giving an amazing view of the city. Around the corner, Lizbeth could spy the beginning of the dining room and kitchen. To her right was not just space for Anna's bedroom and a home office, but a guest bedroom as well. The door straight ahead was probably leading to the bathroom. This apartment must cost a small fortune in rent.
"Come in," Anna greeted her. "I am just about ready with cooking."
Lizbeth followed Anna to the kitchen. Admiring the view from behind. Clearly, the hostess had dressed up. A silken blouse and a short, but playful ruffled skirt. Anna even wore heels. Who even wore heels at home? Those who wanted to impress their guests, Lizbeth decided. Or even seduce them. After all, she was very aware that Anna had invited her with ulterior motives.
Lizbeth was impressed. Not by the large kitchen. Nearly twice the size of her own. No, it was the fact that Anna cooked herself. She had suspected someone of her stature and means would simply order from somewhere fancy.
They made small talk while Anna finished the last few steps. Rather awkwardly as Anna appeared to be nervous. Not Lizbeth. She was rather amused. Again reminded just how much their roles had reversed.
The meal was good. Better than Lizbeth could have done herself for sure. Not quite on a restaurant level, but promising. They were nearly done when Anna said something that caught Lizbeth's undivided attention.
"I am afraid there won't be dessert. This was rather short notice and I didn't have the time."
Lizbeth put her utensils aside and quirked an eyebrow. "No, dessert. I think not." As she stood up, Anna jumped up from her seat as well. Worried she might have offended her guest. But Lizbeth bridged the space between them halfway. Then motioned for Anna to approach. "I think I'll have my dessert right here."
Anna's eyes brightened up. Without hesitation, she started to sink to her knees but was stopped by Lizbeth. "My dessert. Not yours. And I think I'll have it right here." Pushing aside two of the chairs that lined the long table. One that easily could accommodate ten guests and with plenty of space in the middle for what Lizbeth had in mind.
It didn't take long for Anna to catch the meaning. Leaning over, she rested her upper body on the table. Using her heeled legs to prop up her butt as high and inviting as she could. She then looked over her shoulder at Lizbeth and gave the best come-hither look she could manage. "Dessert is served."
"So, it is." Lizbeth stepped out of her skirt before facing Anna's. With a flip, she revealed the naked bum of her hostess and very damp panties. Those, Lizbeth simply ripped off. Getting a kick out of this simple but animalistic action.
Stepping behind Anna, Lizbeth's erect member brushed against the inner tights of her partner. "Ready?"
"Please. Hurry," Anna urged her.
For a moment, Lizbeth contemplated waiting. Just to show who really was the boss here and gives commands. But the truth was, She needed it too. With only minor difficulties aligning the tip, Lizbeth pushed in. Despite the heavenly feeling, she had the awareness to not push in too deep. Having a twelve-inch dick might be a good idea in theory, but she knew Anna might not be able to take all of it in. Maybe it really was time to see if Lizbeth could substitute her current dildo for a more reasonable one.
Bottoming out was not needed anyway. Just going in halfway at a steady pace brought plenty of pleasure. And from the moans Lizbeth heard, Anna shared her enthusiasm. Gradually, Lizbeth quickened the pace. Getting rewarded with outright cries of pleasure from Anna, who shifted her moans to something more vocal.
At last, Lizbeth gave a few heavy thrusts that finally pushed both of them into orgasmic bliss. The shuddering climax left Lizbeth fatigued but fulfilled and propping herself up with her arms on the table. Anna was right beneath her. Softly, she pushed a few strands of Anna's damp hair to the side, so she could look at her lovely partner's face. Anna looked exhausted but satisfied. There was also a deep affectionate look in her eyes. Something between smoldering desire and blissful content.
Just to be sure, Lizbeth had to ask. "A nice way to end an excellent lunch, right?"
"The best," Anna purred.
"But where are my manners?" Lizbeth asked while leaning back. Letting her member slip out of Anna. It was quite slick. Mixing cum and Anna's love juice. "I think your dessert is ready."
Anna didn't even hesitate. Sliding down from the table and onto her knees in a fluid motion. Licking up expertly the mess left behind. Yet different from before. This was not Anna satisfying her addiction. That had been urgent. Needy. Energetic. Now, she was methodical. Alluring. Erotic in a way that would have made Lizbeth hard again for sure. But both their fun was ruined as her dick returned to lifeless silicone once again.
Lizbeth woke to a pleasant feeling. Not the sunshine that shone through her eyelids. Neither through the silken bedsheets around her. Both were new experiences, but not what woke her up. That honor belonged to a familiar feeling. An expert tongue caressed her hard shaft. Propping herself up on her elbows, Lizbeth opened her eyes and saw Anna mid-action. Doing it seductively too.
"I thought you might prefer this type of wake-up call."
"Oh, I do," Lizbeth said with a sigh as she slipped back down to the sheets. Enjoying Anna's skillful tongue to the fullest. But something tickled her mind. A slight change. What was it? "Anna, stop for a moment."
With playful mewled protest, Anna obliged. Moving just enough away from Lizbeth to give her a look at her cock. It looked shrunken. No, the shape was off too.
"So, you've noticed," Anna said with a mischievous grin. "I switched the dildo for one of mine."
For a moment, Lizbeth was speechless. Not because Anna took the initiative to experiment. That had been on Lizbeth's agenda anyway. No, it was because she felt exposed. Anna could have stolen her strap-on. And it had to be the strap-on. If Anna switched the dildo then it had to be it. What would Lizbeth be without it? She didn't want to find out.
How could she have been so careless? Maybe Anna had lulled her into a false sense of security on purpose. Lizbeth hadn't headed off after her lunch date with Anna. No, the vixen had her seduced into staying. Waiting hand and foot on her. A wellness day. Broken up by frequent bouts of sex as soon as Lizbeth was ready again. Anna had been insatiable in that regard. And in the end, Lizbeth had fallen asleep in Anna's sinful soft bed.
But she still wore her strap-on. Anna hadn't betrayed her. Lizbeth relaxed again. And after a moment of silence, Anna continued her oral lovemaking. One that soon bore fruit. With Lizbeth moaning out her satisfaction and Anna happily licking up any over her hard-won spoils.
By now, Anna knew to keep cleaning up even if the dildo separated from Lizbeth and turned back to silicone. But this morning, it felt different. Instead of the strap-on appearing again, the dildo just fell off. Concerned, Lizbeth looked down and saw Anna holding a spent silicone phallus. Nothing more.
"Where is the strap-on?"
"Over there," Anna said while pointing to a chair in the corner.
She was right. The discarded strap-on did lay there. Even loaded with Lizbeth's original dildo still in it. The sight didn't make sense to Lizbeth. If it isn't the dildo and not the strap-on either-
"I don't think they are magic at all," Anna purred as she laid down next to Lizbeth. Starting to trace her contours. "That's all you."
Was it? Lizbeth's mind raced. If it was really her, how had she never noticed before? Has this ability always been a part of her? Then what triggered it? Obviously wearing the strap-on must have caused it. A pure one in a million chance that she wore one and triggered this inane ability of hers. If her friend Collette hadn't insisted on this rather unconventional means to boost Lizbeth's confidence, she might have never found out.
Speaking of finding out. Another suspicion wormed itself into Lizbeth's mind. "Anna, what made you check if it works without my strap-on?"
"Well, I- Uhm." The blush on her face might have been cute in most other situations. This time, it hinted that Anna had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "After you fell asleep, I got curious. And I started to wonder-"
"If the strap-on would work with you," Lizbeth completed the sentence. She should feel anger. This was exactly what she had feared waking up. But now, she was oddly calm about it. So, what? It didn't work for Anna. It was Lizbeth's innate ability. That she knew now. There was no chance that Anna could turn the tables. So, why cry over spilled milk? "What then?"
"Well, I tried wearing it," Anna admitted. "But after two hours I gave up. There wasn't even the first stage you mentioned. That you get a feeling in the- Anyway. I stripped out of it and went to sleep beside you."
"And this morning?" Lizbeth asked to keep the ball rolling.
"I woke up before you. Had this naughty image of me waking you up with a blowjob. I was about to put the strap-on on you when I had a thought. Maybe it wasn't the strap-on doing it. Or the dildo. Maybe it was you. So, I used one of my dildos."
The silence after Anna's confession was broken by a laugh Lizbeth couldn't stifle. As Anna looked worried, she hurried to explain. "Too bad I couldn't see it. You, kneeling between my legs. Holding a dildo to me for a half-hour hoping I wouldn't wake too soon to spoil the surprise."
"Yeah." Anna gave a weak laugh too. Then sobered up a bit. "Except it took only about five. I guess without a strap-on your body has less work to do."
A logical thought, but the revelation still stunned Lizbeth for a moment. Whatever this was, magic or whatever, it definitely grew stronger. Noting that the atmosphere has turned rather awkward, she quickly turned the subject. "Well, you had your breakfast, Anna. What about mine?"
"Right!" Jumping up, Anna nearly ran out of the bedroom. Only to stop in the doorframe. "You coming?"
"In a moment," Lizbeth assured her.
Once Anna was gone, Lizbeth looked for her phone. There still was one thing unexplained. Well, many. But Lizbeth focused on one. Anna said she had worn the strap-on for an hour or two without anything happening. But it had taken Lizbeth more than one day until she first felt changes around her. So, she couldn't rule out the strap-on after all. Maybe the ability she now had was inane. Or the strap-on somehow transferred it to her.
#Lizbeth: Colette, we need to talk.#
The text Lizbeth send was immediately marked as not delivered. Strange. She tried again. Just to be sure. Still, no luck. Calling her worked out even less.
"The number you have called is currently unregistered. Please make sure that-"
Lizbeth hung up. Her slight suspicion suddenly ramped up to knowing Colette had something to with this. Had she known about Lizbeth's ability even before her? Or had it never been inane and Colette somehow had conspired to add it to Lizbeth. Just how well did Lizbeth know her? Less than a year and-
Lizbeth shook her head. No, that wasn't important right now. Not when her stomach rumbled as a delicious smell wafted over from the kitchen. Borrowing one of Anna's silk robes, she made her way to the source of the pleasant smell. It looked like Anna was making an omelet. So far it looked way better than the ones Lizbeth managed on her own.
"So, what is your plan for today?" Anna asked as she plated her creation for Lizbeth before cracking new eggs. Probably for her own omelet. Liz doubted that her cum was nourishment enough for a grown woman.
"Don't even try seducing me to another full day of sexcapades," Lizbeth warned her. Just to be sure, she added a stern look. "I've been meaning to do some shopping for clothing. That was my plan for yesterday by the way."
If Anna felt guilty ruining Lizbeth's previous plans then she didn't show. The opposite was the case. Her eyes brightened up. "Sounds like fun. I hope you don't mind if I tag along."
"Not as long as you pay," Lizbeth joked.
Her smile vanished as Anna shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"
"You can let me out here," Lizbeth said two blocks away from their workplace.
"Are you sure?" Anna asked, but steered to the side anyway. "It is no trouble at all."
"People might talk if they see me arriving with my boss," Lizbeth reminded her."
"Only in the office," Anna fibbed. "I think you showed me who in bed-"
"See you soon," Lizbeth cut her off and exited the car a moment later.
Seeing Anna drive off, Lizbeth let out a sigh. This had been an exhausting weekend. Shopping had taken a while. Anna had dragged her from shop to shop. Mostly those that were normally way out of her price range. Thankfully Anna had paid. Still, Lizbeth felt a little guilty about taking advantage of her like that.
One of the new outfits she wore right now. Not that Lizbeth had another choice. Somehow she never made it home yesterday. After the haul, they had ended up at Anna's again with Lizbeth too tired to complain. And getting her clothing haul home would mean she had to get back to Anna's apartment. Why did she get the feeling it wouldn't work out better than yesterday?
Not that Lizbeth really minded. Anna was a gracious and attentive host. Maybe a bit on the needy side, but that was Lizbeth's fault. After all, she made Anna addicted to her cum.
Walking down to her workplace was a new feeling. Her silken blouse was more revealing than her normal ones. And the higher heels on her new shoes only highlighted her exposed assets even more. What troubled Lizbeth more was the skirt. It was shorter than her usual ones. Not as short as those Anna wore the past few days. What worried her was the loose nature of it. What if she got a hard-on? That surely would lift up her new skirt. One that wasn't as restrictive as her previous pencil skirts.
"Anna better takes care of that," Lizbeth mumbled to herself. She had after all promised as much as she made puppy eyes while convincing Lizbeth to go with this skirt.
The two blocks to her work were mercifully uneventful. Trouble started when she had to share an elevator with her co-workers. Her new wardrobe got her many compliments and her female co-workers ogled her openly. Not that Lizbeth minded. It was only fair if she did the same, right? She had, after all, very attractive co-workers.
And here the trouble started. Barely in time, Lizbeth placed her purse in front of her groin. Her hard meat bumped against the leather. What would they say if her naughty secret would be exposed? Would they be shocked? Disgusted? Turned on? With her magical pheromones, Lizbeth could imagine even a full-blown orgy unfolding. The last thought did not help calm down her skirt-snake. Maybe she should do something about that. How did men keep their dick in check? Right. Maybe she was wearing the wrong underwear. Her panties clearly couldn't contain her 'excitement'. Hopefully, she didn't have to resort to male underwear.
Well, she couldn't change her underwear now. But she could take care of her not so little problem. Hence her first task of the day was to bee-line to Anna's office and have an in-depth meeting. Behind closed doors, of course.
"Lizbeth."
She had expected her boss to call her now. Middle of the day. It was the middle of the week too. Turning around, Lizbeth spied Anna leaning against the doorframe of her office.
"Why don't you join me for lunch again?"
"Of course, boss," Lizbeth quipped.
She grabbed her packed meal - once suspiciously similar to Anna's - and headed into the office. Taking a seat before the desk. The moment Anna had locked the door and closed the blinds, Lizbeth flipped up her skirt. Showing her already erect. Barely contained by the jock-strap she had resorted to wearing now. The unwelcome but necessary garment landed on the floor.
"Come get your salad dressing," she teased.
Anna didn't have to be asked twice. "With pleasure."
While her boss did go down on her expertly, Lizbeth couldn't help but wonder. Were they dating now? She had stayed over since Saturday. Lizbeth had practically in. In the privacy of her apartment, Anna even acted like her girlfriend. Or even her wife. That, Lizbeth didn't mind. But making it official? They probably should, but reporting it to the human resources department sounded like a hassle. Not to mention those upstairs might frown upon Anna dating a subordinate. Maybe it was best to keep it quiet. For now at least.
Lizbeth sank deeper in the chair as she exploded once again in Anna's mouth. Closing her eyes she enjoyed the undivided attention of her boss. It still felt heavenly. Even after switching to the smaller dildo that Anna owned. It was easier for having sex. Not to mention to hide. Twelve inches really were a bit too much.
"Uhm, Lizbeth."
Anna broke through Lizbeth's musings. She sounded confused.
Slowly she opened her eyes. "What is it?"
"Shouldn't it be turned back by now?" Anna asked.
Looking down, Lizbeth saw her spend dick. Normally, it would be silicone by now. Yet she could still feel it. Reaching down with her hand only compounded the fact that it was flesh and blood.
"Strange," Lizbeth admitted out loud. Internally, her mind raced. In a way, she had suspected this might happen. The period for a dildo to fuse had been getting shorter and shorter. It took a jump when they had found out that without a strap-on it worked even faster. All this hinted that Lizbeth's ability got stronger.
Apparently now it was strong enough to not even reset after an orgasm anymore. Meaning no more reverting back to a dildo. Which, if she was honest, had been a hassle she could do without for the past few days. Sadly, she couldn't switch sizes anymore simply by swapping dildos. Aside from that, Lizbeth was at peace with the development.
"Had to happen sooner or later I guess," she said while reaching for her packed lunch. It was time to fill up on carbs. Being drained by Anna multiple times a day did take its toll. Lizbeth could swear she had lost a pound or two. Despite Anna's excellent cooking.
"I am gonna miss the twelve-inch," Anna admitted while getting up. Going to her own seat and packed meal. "Not for the normal sex, but I like the challenge when giving blowjobs."
Lizbeth gave a short laugh. "Well, we all have to live with the consequences."
They ate quietly. Barely making small talk. Lost in their respective musings. Lizbeth's circled back to being naughty close when their break was over. It was evident by her dick being hard and ready again. "Look, Anna. I got dessert ready for you."
"Well, if you offer so nicely."
Once again, Anna applied herself. The outcome was as expected. Anna was satisfied. Lizbeth spent and content. And her dick was still in place.
A few hours later they arrived at Anna's home. One the way in, they both had been greeted by name by the concierge. It left Lizbeth a little bit bemused. Was this her home now too? She nearly spent all her time here anyway. Enough that the concierge knew her name.
"So, a glass of wine and some t.v. before dinner?" Anna asked as they entered the apartment. "Or do you have something else in mind?"
Just to tempt Lizbeth, Anna started to undress before her. A sexy little striptease. How could Lizbeth say no to that?
"Come here, you little minx."
Clothes flew off them as they made their way to the bedroom. Anna was first on the bed and Lizbeth close behind. Not that Lizbeth minded. It allowed her to climb on top of Anna. Dictating every action to come. Lizbeth pinned her little sacrificial lamb down on the sheets with hands and hungry kisses on her lips. A moment later with her unyielding rod as she slid into Anna.
Their little romp was short but very passionate. Letting out their frustration of the last few hours. Both knew there would be time for slow and gentle later. Right now they needed the burst of adrenaline. The sweet release of rough sex. This wasn't their first time to tie off a workday like this.
Exhausted, but happy, Lizbeth rolled off Anna and sank into the silken sheets. Enjoying the sound of their heavy breathing and shared joyful release. She could lie like that for a while, Lizbeth decided, and be happy.
But Anna had other plans. Confused, she propped herself up on her elbows. "Liz, I think you forgot something."
Had she? No, Lizbeth was sure she had made Anna cum. She wasn't a jerk like some men. Liz always made sure Anna came too.
Reaching down, Anna picked up a dildo. Still slick with her juices. The very same that was supposed to be fused to Lizbeth.
"I guess it isn't as permanent as we thought," Anna mused while handing the dildo to Lizbeth.
"Yeah, but what changed?" Lizbeth asked as she stared at the lump of silicone in her hands.
Anna let out a sudden burst of laughter. Catching herself, she explained. "Well, maybe blowjobs don't count as proper sex anymore."
"Hmm." Lizbeth mulled the joke suggestion through, but couldn't find a better explanation. "Should be easy enough to confirm."
"I am game if you are." Anna already had that hungry look in her eyes again.
"Sure." Lizbeth sank back into the sheets with a groan. Letting the dildo fall beside her. "In half an hour. Or an hour. Maybe after dinner."
"Then, I'll better get started on it," Anna said with a wink before getting up and heading for the kitchen.
It was a week later that Lizbeth sent a furious text. The recipient was, of course, Anna.
#Lizbeth: Where are you? The meeting was supposed to start five minutes ago.#
She gave an apologetic look towards the CEO of the company. The man and his staff had waited now for some time. Lizbeth couldn't even bribe them with something. Pastries and coffee were already on the table. When her phone beeped a small relief washed over Lizbeth. Hopefully, it was Anna and with good news.
#Anna: Had an errand to run. In the lobby waiting for the elevator.#
"That was Anna. She'll be here shortly." Lizbeth made the announcement calmly. But on the inside, she was furious. What errand could she possibly be on? It was Lizbeth's duty to run errands for her. Maybe she had been out smoking? Anna had vowed to quit when Lizbeth only casually admitted to disliking the practice.
Another thought nearly made Lizbeth groan out loud. Last Thursday Anna had left midday without saying a word. Just to pick up some lingerie. Why did Lizbeth know about that? Because Anna surprised her the very evening with it. Which reminded her that she did spend too much time at Anna's. Only two small trips to her own apartment to look for letters or calls on her answering machine.
A loud clearing of one's throat got Lizbeth's attention. "I think we waited long enough," her CEO decided. To Lizbeth's dismay, she spied that another five minutes had gone by. "Perhaps you are familiar with the numbers and can get us started?"
"Right." Lizbeth gathered her courage and stepped before the group. "Past projections for the department-"
It was another ten minutes until Anna quietly slipped into the room. Murmuring apologies. And to Lizbeth's frustration, Anna didn't even switch places with her. Leaving Lizbeth on the spot to end the presentation. Fine. Lizbeth was annoyed enough to power through it. To show Anna and the company's CEO that she could do it.
After her presentation - and a question and answer round - the CEO stood up. "Very informative. Lizbeth was it?"
"Yes, sir. And thank you."
"Glad at least one person in the advertisement department is up to the task."
With those words, he left before Anna could even voice an apology. Not that she owed one only to the CEO. Lizbeth was furious too.
"What errand?" she asked once everyone but her and Anna had left. "Please don't tell me that you ran out for lingerie again."
"No, of course not." Anna had the decency to blush. "Something else came up and I forgot-"
"The meeting that I reminded you of not two hours ago?"
"I- Yeah. Sorry."
It had been a problem of late. Anna was absent-minded. Lizbeth would have joked that it was a sexual obsession that kept Anna's attention, but that wasn't it either. Not exactly. It was like her priorities had shifted. The career woman who tried to climb the company ladder as fast as she could, now started to slowly vanish right before Lizbeth's eye.
It fed into her own guilt that Lizbeth knew exactly what had replaced it. Or rather, who. Lizbeth knew she was now Anna's center of attention. Yesterday she caught Anna searching the internet for cake recipes after Lizbeth casually mentioned she hadn't had a decent chocolate cake in a while. It wasn't about Anna's addiction to Lizbeth's spunk either. A little experimentation revealed that two times vaginal sex did the trick or three to four blowjobs. Everything more was just extra.
Anna seemed to have the inherent need to make Lizbeth happy. Apparently being the perfect little housewife was Anna's way to make sure of that. Sadly, it impacted her work life more and more.
"Listen, I know you have good intentions," Lizbeth said as she pushed Anna's chin up so they could see each other's eyes. "But at work, I need you to be the boss. People are counting on you. Not just me. You got that?"
"Yeah. I mean yes." Anna gave a weak nod. Then a stronger one after straightening up. "I'll do my best. Promise."
"Glad to hear it." Lizbeth nearly sighed in relief. Finally, she appeared to get through to Anna. Maybe messing up big time was a wake-up call for her. "Now, what errant had been so important that it couldn't wait?"
Anna didn't answer immediately. Yet Lizbeth's stare was insistent. "Well, that is better explained at home."
"Anna," Lizbeth warned her.
"You know what? Work." Anna pushed out of the meeting room. Retreating fast. "Gotta work. I promised."
"Anna!"
But Lizbeth's boss was already nowhere to be seen.
"Now, spill," Lizbeth commanded as they pushed into the apartment. Anna was right behind her carrying a big box. When she had gotten out of her car's trunk Lizbeth's stomach had filled with dread. She doubted that such a large container was needed for new lingerie.
"You better sit down." That one sentence from Anna increased Lizbeth's anxiety tenfold. "Maybe in the bedroom?"
"Fine. This better be good." Though Lizbeth doubted it.
Marching to their shared bedroom, Lizbeth sat down and waited for Anna to arrive. It took a moment with the heavy box. Normally, Lizbeth would offer to help, but right now she was too peeved to do so.
"Remember the first morning we spent together?" Anna asked as she cut the top with a box cutter open. "We had the discovery that any dildo worked with your gift, right? And we said it might be worth exploring that a little. To experiment. But we never did."
Lizbeth let out a groan and pinched the bridge of her nose. Not even looking, she said: "This box better not be full of dildos."
"Well, this is awkward," Anna said as she fished out a five-inch dildo. Followed by a six-inch and then seven-inch. More and more she fished out and placed them on the carpet beside her. All the way up to fourteen inches.
Lizbeth was just about to chide Anna when her partner spoke up first. "And then I got creative."
To Lizbeth's shock, Anna pulled out even more silicone dicks. These new ones were less anatomically correct. Some were very wide. Others were ripped or outright abstract. One big and anatomically correct one had a small tube sticking out. She was about to ask when the function dawned on Lizbeth. It was a dildo that could mimic ejaculation.
Two dozen dildos circled Anna on the carpet. Like some kind of perverted fairy ring. It left Lizbeth speechless. But Anna wasn't through with her yet.
"Did you know there is a shop that makes dildos and vibrators based on fantasy beasts?"
Lizbeth grew a bit pale at what came out of the box next. The horse dick as long and thick as her forearm was the least strange addition to the collection on the carpet. They were joined by dildos inspired by classical movie monsters. Then more that were sculpted like belonging to fantasy races like orc, dwarf, or elven.
The king of absurdity was a thick red bastard of a dildo. Lizbeth couldn't help but pick it up. Feel the weight in her hands and the veins under her fingertips. "What is that?" she asked not really wanting an answer.
"That's a dragon's dick," Anna offered as if it was the most normal thing in the world to say.
"Well, I am not trying this one," Lizbeth said while holding up the monster of a dick. "In case you've forgotten, dildo's only unfuse with vaginal sex. So, I doubt your snatch can handle this one. Which would mean I'd be stuck with this one. Just to make myself clear. No fusing big dicks to me, that you can't handle, while I am asleep."
"Got it. I mean I ordered them before we found that out." Just when Lizbeth was about to relax, Anna had to add more. "Challenge accepted. Looks like I have some training to do."
With a groan, Lizbeth let the dragon-dildo fall and collapsed on the bed. Just what was she to do with Anna? No matter what she did, somehow Anna always twisted it. Then again - deep in her mind - she had to admit to herself that some of these dildos looked intriguing. Making her wonder how they would feel as flesh and blood while fused to her.
"I really need a signature."
"I got that, Melanie," Lizbeth said to her co-worker while trying not to sound exhausted or annoyed. "She just stepped out a bit. Tell you what. Leave it on my desk and I'll bring it to you once signed."
Placing down her folder, Melanie's voice softened. "Look. I get that you are covering for her. She's our boss and all. But lately, she has been really slacking. You can't cover up for her forever. We all feel it. Morale is down in the dumpster."
"I'll get her back on track," Lizbeth said to calm her down. "She is just having a rough time right now."
"You know, you could do better than her, right?" Melanie asked while leaning forward. Giving Lizbeth a good view of a blouse that might not be as buttoned-up as would be proper. "Some of us would be more than willing, you know."
Lizbeth bit her tongue before the wrong words could slip out. Oh, she knew that each and every woman in the office suspected what Anna and she were up to. That they all would be eager to take Anna's place.
And there laid the problem. She knew full well what she had done to Anna. The addiction. A shift in focus. Not to mention the air-headedness. Anna was by no means stupid now. Just as smart as before, but all were focused on pleasing Lizbeth. If only that extended to keeping up the masquerade at the office.
Lizbeth knew that one wrong move she would be responsible for another woman. She could explain it to Melanie and those other co-workers hovering close by. Hoping to eavesdrop means to get to Lizbeth's heart. Or at least into her panties. What sucked for Lizbeth was the knowledge that even explaining the drawbacks, most of these ladies would sign up in a heartbeat. Willingly giving up their current lives to be with Lizbeth. It was that smell of hers that. Those vexing pheromones on steroids. It clouded their minds. Which left Lizbeth as the only person left here who could shoulder the weight of responsibility.
But Melanie was right. Something needed to be done. If productivity sank even lower, those higher up might notice the tardiness of Anna. Thankfully Lizbeth had an idea about that. It was time to put those pheromones to good use. If all of her co-workers - at least the female ones - vied for her attention she might as well use it for her gain.
"You are right. Morale has been slacking," she told Melanie. Standing up, Lizbeth walked to the middle of the cubicle farm. "Can I get everyone's attention for a moment?"
Her female co-workers were just too happy to comply. Most gathered around her. Eager to present themselves. Lizbeth's male co-workers were more reluctant. She thought that on some instinctual level they recognized that Lizbeth had switched from someone worth pursuing in the dating game to competition. A hidden source of amusement for her.
"It has come to my attention that this department could use a little more focus. Something to strive for." Lizbeth took a moment for her words to sink in. Taking the time too to judge those around her. She saw many small nods in agreement. It was time to fix the unintentional waves she caused by addicting Anna to herself.
"This month is half over and we are behind schedule on most projects. This can't stand." Time for a generous smile. Only punishment won't do much. People need a carrot too. "As a little insensitive I will take out one or two of you to a fancy dinner. My treat. I will decide who the lucky winner or winners will be by comparing progress on those projects at the end of the month."
That got her plenty of attention. Most of the women around her didn't need much time to think things through. Practically tripping over themselves to return to their cubicles. Attacking their projects with renewed passion. Lizbeth just hoped there wouldn't be too much friction through competitiveness.
The men needed a little more talking to. They weren't as easily sold on the idea and motivated by it. Having done her part to get the department back on track, Lizbeth returned to her desk. Letting herself fall heavily into her chair. A fancy dinner a month wasn't that much of a deal. Ever since Anna cooked for her, Lizbeth's grocery bill was next to nothing.
It was Anna that worried her. Just talking didn't help. Lizbeth needed the right carrot, but so far she drew blanks with Anna. Everything she previously tried had failed to stick.
"Did I miss something?"
Lizbeth was surprised to look up and actually see Anna before her desk. She clearly had noticed the changed mood in the room.
"Nothing much," Lizbeth said dismissively. "Promised them a fancy dinner with me for the best performing worker."
"And only the office workers can compete?" Anna asked while twirling a strand of her hair.
For a moment, Lizbeth thought she might have found a carrot for Anna. But, no, it wouldn't work. Maybe in the beginning, but she doubted it would stick. Not to mention that she would discredit herself in front of her co-workers. No, Lizbeth needed to find something else.
"We eat dinner together every evening," she reminded her instead.
"Oh." Anna perked up. "I could cook for you and the lucky winner."
"Shh!" Lizbeth looked around. Thankfully no one seemed to have overheard them. "Remember, we try to keep it a secret that we are living together. HR might make things challenging if they find out."
"True." Anna gave a big pout.
"Anyway. I need a few signatures from you and-" Lizbeth stopped. There still was something unexplained. "Where were you? People have been looking for you."
Anna had the decency to blush. "I needed to use the restroom."
"For an hour?" Lizbeth's eyes narrowed. Something was fishy here. "In your office. Now."
Anna listened at once and hurried into her office. Lizbeth followed suit. Closing the blinds and locking the door.
"Oh, someone in the mood for naughty stuff?" Anna joked. But even to herself, the joke fell flat. She knew she was in trouble and her half-hearted attempt to deflect fell flat.
Lizbeth held out her hand. "Phone!"
"Is that really necessary?" Anna asked. "I swear I didn't browse for dildos. Honest to god, I didn't."
Giving her a tired look, Lizbeth just repeated herself. "Phone. Now."
Like a schoolgirl caught cheating, Anna walked up with a lowered head. Handing over the damning evidence. The locking screen was no problem for Lizbeth to get past. She had wormed the pin out of Anna days ago. The browser was closed and even opening it yielded nothing. But Lizbeth wasn't easily deterred. Peeking in the history revealed everything she needed to know.
"Maid uniforms? You browsed for an hour for maid uniforms?"
"French maid uniforms," Anna corrected and immediately noticed it was a mistake.
"Anna, what were you thinking?"
"That I'll look cute in them? I bet those I ordered will get you hard in no time. And-"
"I mean work," Lizbeth had to say out loud. Not just for Anna. For a moment, her mind had drifted and imagined Anna in a cute maid uniform. The thought was not helpful. "Anna, people depend on you. When you are here, you can't just disappear for an hour. We need you to do your job. I need you to do it."
Chastised, Anna looked to the floor. But after a moment, she gathered enough courage for a confession: "Work is boring."
Those three words hit Lizbeth deeply. Who's fault was it that Anna was like this? The real guilty party was clear as day. And as such, Lizbeth had the responsibility to take care of Anna as best as she could.
"I know," Lizbeth said softer. Pulling Anna to her and into a hug. "I'll try to find a solution. But unless you want to move in with me into my old apartment, we need your income. Certainly, I can't afford your apartment. Not on my salary. Even less your new spending sprees. Until we figure things out, I need you to try."
"Okay," Anna said with a sigh. Then nestling even closer to Lizbeth.
"I thought we had a moment," Lizbeth said a few seconds later as she felt a hand stroking between her legs.
"We had," Anna admitted. Then looked up to Lizbeth with mischief in her eyes. "Now we can have another moment. Of a different kind."
"Well, you got me hard," Lizbeth admitted. "You might as well finish it."
Finding a solution to their situation surely could wait a few minutes.
Lizbeth's confidence had been through the roof the last few months. But it wasn't always at its peak. Such times as when she had to cover for Anna. Instances that grew in frequency. Right now, it was put to a new test.
"You can go in now," said the personal assistant.
For a split second, Lizbeth found it funny. They had the same job position. Still, the man waving her through was the personal assistant of the CEO. At least one step up in the company hierarchy.
Walking to the door, Lizbeth took a last deep breath, before pushing in. Trying her best to not show her nervousness and project confidence.
"You wanted to see me, sir?"
"Lizbeth, yes. Take a seat." The man barely stopped to gesture to one of the chairs. "You don't mind me calling you Lizbeth, right? I am afraid your last name is a tongue twister I would rather avoid."
"It's fine, sir," Lizbeth replied gracefully. It certainly wasn't the first time and she rather preferred not to have her last name butchered in an ill attempt at pronouncing it.
"Don't worry, Lizbeth. You are not in trouble." The older man leaned back. "The same can't be said for your floor boss. What can you tell me about Anna."
A sudden pit in Lizbeth's stomach opened up. This was what she had been afraid of. Anna's slacking off was catching up to her. It could even cost her her job.
"She's been under a lot of stress lately. Things in her private life-"
"And we could have worked around it," the CEO interrupted her. "Make accommodations. But she didn't come to me with her problems. The other day I confronted her and she was rather evasive."
He had? Anna hadn't mentioned it to her. What else had she held back from Lizbeth?
"I could speak to her," Lizbeth offered.
"I am afraid it is too late for that." The man steepled his fingers before her. "I might be the CEO of this company, but I am beholden to others. Our investors want her out."
"Sir, please reconsider." Lizbeth's mind raced. She needed to turn this around. Facts. She needed to lay down a foundation. "Productivity has been up the last two months. We finished several projects early and won some new key clients and contracts."
"And we have you to thank for it." The man gave her a winning smile. "Oh, don't be so surprised. I have my spies throughout the company. Well, bowling buddies. But I know for a fact that it is you who found means to motivate your co-workers to reach new heights."
Lizbeth remained quiet. Her mind was racing. It appeared she - and Anna - had been thoroughly found out. There was only one last measure that could doom her completely: if he knew about her magical gift.
"Lizbeth, how long have you been with the company?"
The question caught her off guard. She needed a moment to think. "Five years maybe?"
"Next month it will be six," the CEO corrected her. "Yes, I looked into you. Your qualifications are good. It is a wonder you didn't stand out sooner. Well, Anna did at least a good job picking you as her personal assistant. The last two months showed that."
"Two and a half," she corrected automatically. If only to win a measure of control again.
"Well, in the last two and a half months you showed us you could handle most of Anna's duties and responsibilities. The board and I think it would be a wise choice to promote you into Anna's position. It would mean a smoother transition than looking outside of the company for a replacement. Provided you want the job."
Did she? Of course, Lizbeth wanted the job. And not just for the money. Her quest for more confidence finally paid off. Now she was recognized for what she was worth. Yet, there was a price to pay for it.
"Anna-"
"Don't worry," the CEO assured her. "HR will handle it and-"
"No." The one word firm. Unyielding. Lizbeth didn't even care that she had cut off the most powerful person in the company. Going softer, she explained. "I've grown close with Anna. If anyone tells her the news then it should be me. I think I may even make it mutual. Her leaving voluntarily and without hurt feelings."
"That would be good. I'll leave that in your hands. Speaking of-" He stood up. Presenting his hand. As Lizbeth shook on it, he added: "Welcome to upper management. You've earned it."
Lizbeth took a deep breath, before opening the door to their shared apartment. The hallway was littered with dildos of all sizes and shapes. Normally they all would be in the bedroom, but the sight itself wasn't unusual.
"Anna? Are you home?" Lizbeth called out while slipping out of her heels.
While Anna had taken a day off, it didn't mean she had to be here. It was common for her to run off somewhere to buy another naughty prop or gadget. Despite being led down a rabbit hole of increasingly deviant sex toys, Anna still managed to regularly blindside Lizbeth with new depraved toys.
"I am here, Mistress," Anna exclaimed from the bedroom. Hurrying out of it a moment later. "Sorry for the mess. I was cleaning up the bedroom and I thought I had more time."
"It's fine," Lizbeth assured her while taking in the vision before her. Anna had dressed up as a maid again. This time her uniform was made out of slightly transparent pink PVC. Her hair was made up in twin pigtails. This getup screamed bimbo pretending to be a maid, but failing. Lizbeth had no doubt that this was the intended look by Anna.
Having reheard this situation in her mind, Lizbeth knew what to say now. "How about you grab a dildo of your choice and we mess the bed up a last time before you tidy it up?"
Lizbeth had decided that first, she had to take care of Anna's addiction before having a serious talk. This way her mind would be less addled by naughty thoughts. Or so she hoped.
"Any dildo?" Anna asked. The mischief in her eyes was very evident. "Even one of the monstrous ones?"
"Sure," Lizbeth assured her. "As long as you can prove that it fits you first."
"Yay!" Anna exclaimed before running off. Just to stop a few steps in and to turn around. Getting all serious. "Something is up. This is a bribe. What happened?"
Once again, Lizbeth had to chide herself. Anna might act like an absent-minded air-head. But she certainly wasn't. Anna's addiction to Lizbeth's spunk certainly had screwed with her worldview and motivation but hadn't changed her smarts in the slightest. Just because Anna now usually focused her mind on deviant stuff didn't mean there was nothing left.
"We need to talk," Lizbeth said while walking past Anna. "Come sit with me."
Sitting down on the couch in the living room, Lizbeth waited until Anna joined her. "What if I told you that there was a way for you to be always my maid. That you don't have to go to work anymore."
"I would jump at the chance," Anna exclaimed. But then deflated a bit. "But we need the money, right? I can't quit my job. We'd lose this apartment and our spending money for the naughty stuff. That's what you always remind me about."
"True," Lizbeth said with a nod. Then gave her a smile. One slightly forced. "They offered me a promotion. Department head. Enough money to take over the lease for this apartment. I could finally get rid of my old flat and officially move in with you. Probably about high time I do that, right?"
"Of course! And graduations." Lizbeth got a big hug from Anna. But it was cut short as the maid had a suspicion. "Who's department are you taking over."
Suddenly, Lizbeth couldn't at Anna anymore. "Yours," she said while avoiding her eyes.
"So, they fired me?" Anna asked while leaning back.
Lizbeth's throat felt tight. Not trusting her voice, she simply nodded.
Moments passed and silence settled over the room. And with each passing second, it grew heavier to bear for Lizbeth. "Say something," she demanded when it became too much.
"I am thinking," Anna replied. She looked the part too. A little lost in thought. "You said any dildo. Can't do the dragon one so that one is out. Maybe the werewolf one. Or maybe we are daring and give the horse dick another try."
"Anna. I am being serious here!"
"Me too." Anna sat up straighter. "I am not mad at you. Honestly. you deserve the promotion. And while being honest, I pity you a little. Yes, at some point this job was everything to me. I fought hard to get where I am now. And guess what. It is not what I imagined it to be. Lizbeth, our company is wealthy, but not that big. Unless I was willing to wait a decade or two, there wasn't much upward progression anymore. Not unless I changed to a competitor anyway."
Anna leaned forward. Searching for eye contact with Lizbeth and displaying plenty of mirths. "That's your future now. While I can dick around at home. Literally. Thank you for your sacrifice, Liz. However, will I ever repay you? I only hope plenty of sex and being of service to you will be enough."
Lizbeth burst out laughing. Shaking her head at Anna's antics. "For a moment you had me worried."
"Oh, I know!" Anna pushed up. Climbing over the backside of the couch only to stop for a moment. "Wait here." Running off just to return with a dildo flopping around in her hands. "The one inspired by Frankenstein."
Seeing the bright green monstrosity with molded stitches and all, Lizbeth couldn't help but set things straight. "You know, that's based on Frankenstein's monster. Frankenstein was the doctor."
"Even better. I can play the doctor and once I get you hard I can exclaim: It's alive! Look at what I created. It's alive!"
"You are silly," Lizbeth accused her, but couldn't help laughing. "Fine, I'll be your monster. But aren't you forgetting something? First, you have to take care of my current hard-on."
"I think I can handle that," Anna said as she climbed on top of Lizbeth. Kissing her deeply while pushing herself on her lover's meat.
Anna had done a lot to ease Lizbeth's guilt. But now, sitting the next morning in her office and chair, made the feeling well up in Lizbeth again. A part of her still felt it was wrong. She had not just stolen her job, but life. Pushed her into a domestic role. And despite everything, Lizbeth couldn't tell if it was really Anna talking or the addiction through Anna.
Worse was the knowledge that she could do it again. And quite easy. Sure she could drop some of her cum in someone's coffee. But it might even be enough to simply hold it out for them. Make the pheromones do their job. From there it was a straight road down to addiction. Something Lizbeth couldn't have.
No, Lizbeth vowed. Anna was enough for her. Had to be. There was no way she could ruin another person's life.
A knock on the door made Lizbeth lookup. It was Melanie leaning against the doorframe. "Is Anna a no-show today too?"
Right. Lizbeth had a job to do. "I'll announce it when everyone is here, but Anna won't be returning. She has handed in her resignation."
"I see. Trying on her seat for size? Oh, don't get me wrong. I could totally envision you as our new department head."
Ah, flattery. Ever since her magical upgrade, Lizbeth got a lot of it. Still, it never got old. "I actually am your new boss," she said aloud. "The company felt a smooth transition might be best."
"Congratulations!" Melanie gave her a brilliant smile. Then looked around and stepped further into the office. "You know, I would make a pretty good assistant. It would be my pleasure to fulfill your every whim."
Just to underline her offer more, Melanie unbuttoned her blouse a little further. For a moment, Lizbeth was tempted to say yes. Melanie was good-looking after all. And with Anna staying home, she might need someone in the office to satisfy her urges.
But why settle on Melanie? A lot of her former co-workers were attractive. There was no doubt that Lizbeth could pick freely from her new subordinates. She could even go further. Go to the human resources department and cherry-pick from other departments.
She could have a little harem right here, at the company. Or even at home. All she needed was money. It would be as easy as picking up a wealthy heiress or maybe a pop star. The world could be her oyster, Lizbeth realized.
She suddenly felt faint. Not by the epiphany how far her gift could carry her. Her little daydream had escalated rather quickly. Lizbeth was scared of how quickly her mind had jumped on the opportunity. Suddenly, it might not be a question if she could keep the vow she made not five minutes before. It was rather when she would break it. Just how soon would she give in to the temptation? Lizbeth feared the answer was not as optimistic as she hoped.
Charia stifled the impulse to pinch her nose, rub her eyes, or message her forehead. She contemplated using magic to ease her headache, but she was sure that would only make it worse. Not to mention, it would show weakness to the other members of the council. She was the de-facto leader of the CWC. The Central Witch Council. A position she had hard fought for and was easily enough to lose.
"Next!" Charia shouted out and the previous witch agent slung back to her seat. It was a debriefing day. Once a month, the council was apprised of current matters concerning cases that threatened to expose magic to mundanes.
A mid-twenties woman stood up from the peanut gallery and walked before the council. As all agents, she looked prim and proper in her three-piece suit. The pants and jacket were black. As was the fedora most witches of the CWC wore these days. Charia missed the times a witch could wear a traditional robe. The agent also wore a blue tie. Marking her as an agent of the investigative branch.
"Amanine Dristle," the agent introduced herself while giving a curtsy. "Today, I am presenting the case of Richard Hampton. Now known as Ricky Hampton. Mister Hampton was - and I quote - cursed by an upset witch. This curse changed the gender of Mister Hampton to a woman and gave her an extraordinary gift."
As agent Dristle hesitated to continue, Charia lost her patience. "Out with it. If this Hampton fellow was mundane before, the ability can't be that strong."
"Well. She appears to have daydreams. Even before her change. Imaging garments made out of latex. Now-" Dristle now looked truly uncomfortable. "Her daydreams now lead her body to manufacture these garments within itself."
"What do you mean by: within her body?" fellow councilwoman Desirah Thorntree spoke up.
It was clear that Dristle wanted to be anywhere but here. Her blush colored her face scarlet. "Her, well, uterus had been repurposed by this magical ability. Once a daydream occurs, a rapid drawing in of ambient magic occurs and results in matter generation."
"In other words, she is giving birth to garments," Charia summed up before Dristle could sink into the floor by means of embarrassment.
"Yes, councilwoman Bridgewed."
Charia gave a nod. Time to move this along. "Has the responsible witch been found?"
"No, Miss Bridgewed." Dristle looked about ready to flee the stage but held her spot. "The event occurred five years ago and-"
"Five years?" That outburst came from Beldise Longrow. The witch heading the surveillance branch of the CWC. "Why are we hearing about it only now?"
"Miss Hampton and her then girlfriend - now fiancé - were very good at covering their tracks. They opened up a second-hand shop in downtown San Francisco specializing in garments made out of latex. From the outside, it appeared to have no anomalous behavior and Miss Hampton took pains to never demonstrate her ability to customers."
Charia nodded along. At least, they had the decency to hide the fact that magic was real from other mundane people. Still, if this Ricky Hampton had been found sooner, they might have been able to lift said enchantment. After a year, it would have been nearly impossible to untangle it from her soul. Much less so after five years.
"So, five years of hiding," Charia spoke up. "How did they mess up and brought themselves to our attention?"
"They didn't." A bolt statement until agent Dristle explained. "I was in San Francisco for another assignment and felt the massive flow of ambient magic when Miss Hampton used her gift. I reported it to my supervisor and got the go-ahead to triangulate the source. I managed to do so after three weeks."
Charia's face remained impassive, but internally, she was impressed. Detecting such a dip in ambient magic was hard enough. Tracking the source down was even harder. Three weeks appeared way too quick to accomplish such a task. Charia filed away Amanine Dristle's name as a witch to look out for. Good agents are hard to find and she might prove useful in the future.
Beldise Longrow leaned forward. "While unusual, it appears to be of low priority. I am curious, agent. What further actions would you recommend?"
Charia nearly revealed her own surprise by glancing at councilwoman Longrow. The surveillance branch's duty was to monitor neutralized threads. In other words, Beldise and her branch would take over monitoring Miss Hampton. It was up to them to decide how to proceed. For Beldise to ask the opinion of an agent, she must have spotted Dristle's potential too.
"As stated, Miss Hampton was already flying below attention." Dristle straightened a little up. "We got her cooperation by giving a small concession. Giving her a legitimate ID. We would have provided one nonetheless, just to cover up that a man had turned into a woman by magic, but Miss Hampton doesn't know that. She agreed to play by our rules and will cooperate with further control visits. As such, I recommend that active surveillance is not needed."
"I think we skipped a step." That Desirah Thorntree spoke up was a rare occasion. Now, she had spoken up twice in one debriefing. Charia marked it down as curious. "Who caused that malicious enchantment in the first place?"
"Miss Hampton attributed it to a woman she dated at that time. A Miss Sally Arvington. We tracked Miss Arvington down. One of those new age wannabe witches that are too proud to use the Wicca term we coined for mundane wannabe witches. It appeared to be a dead end, until-" Dristle took out a photograph and used magic to project a larger version of it into the air. "Going through social media posts of the night of the incident, we flagged this woman."
The woman in question wasn't clearly identifiable. Turned to the side, one could see blond hair that was in tight curls. Reaching down to the neck. Dristle pulled out a second picture and enlarged it too.
"We spotted her on another social media post outside of Miss Hampton's apartment. Possibly to witness the fallout. I admit this might be a coincidence, but right now it is the best lead we have."
"It's a start," Charia said and was ready to decree the matter closed for now. The rest, the investigative or surveillance branch could handle. But another woman stood up. Her green tie marked her as part of the surveillance branch. That couldn't be good, but Charia remained calm. "Yes?"
"Agent Lisanna Corsand," the woman introduced herself. "There might be a connection to my case."
Normally, the surveillance branch was the lowest in priority. Usually reserved for those agents no one else wanted. Many viewed the assignment to it as punishment. Rarely, a matter of the surveillance branch had to be reviewed at a meeting like this.
That Miss Corsand was here spoke of the support of Beldise Longrow. And the fact that someone might have messed up. Feeling her headache worsen, Charia waved agent Corsand forward nonetheless.
Agent Dristele stepped aside and gave Corsand space on the stage. Lisanna wasted no time. "My unit is responsible for the surveillance of the offspring from the Streukat line and-"
Charia held up her hand. This was worse than she had expected. "Not everyone is familiar with the Streukat line. As that disaster happened eighty years ago. Please summarize it for your fellow witches, so they all know what hornet's nest we step into."
"Of course, head councilwoman Bridgewed," agent Corsand immediately replied. Shifting gears without a hiccup, she started on another topic. "The Streukat line was a male-centric witch line that bred over generations a supernatural ability into their offspring. Their hereditary powers manifested two-fold. Enhanced pheromones that attracted and sexually aroused women. Usually followed by exposing said women to semen produced by these male witches. Exposure to it was highly addictive. Effectively enslaving them. It was barely tolerated as long as they went after mundane women. Once they targeted witches, the CWC was forced to step in."
"The Streukat line relies on being male," Corsand continues. "They were defeated by being transformed into women. In fact, the used enchantment targets their offspring too. So, they only bear girls. Now, here lies the problem. A woman named Lizbeth McGuire has awoken her heredity gift, despite remaining female. We have evidence that her pheromones are active and that one woman, her former boss, was enslaved by Lizbeth."
"How is that possible?" Charia demanded to know. "Has she turned into a man?"
"Now, that is the crucial part. She didn't." Lisanna pulled out a picture and used magic to create another enlarged hologram. It showed an unremarkable woman that had the same haircut as the previous pictures. The only noticeable features were freckles and blue eyes.
"This individual is known to us as Colette," Lisanna continued." She dared Lizbeth to wear a strap-on with a phallic imitation as a means to boost confidence. This phallic instrument appeared to fuse with Miss Lizbeth and become part of her. Turning to flesh and blood, and allowing her to produce semen. Therefore giving her access to her hereditary gift."
Lisanna pointed at the picture of Colette again. "The original phallic instrument was provided by the individual known as Colette. We believe the ability to fuse and unfuse the facsimile was enchanted to the original instrument but appeared to become a native addition to Lizbeth's abilities."
"This situation is troublesome," Charia admitted and even to herself, it felt like an understatement. "What actions has your surveillance team taken so far?"
"We have placed means of surveillance inside the apartment and Miss McGuire's workplace. All mundane so far." Lisanna gave a quick glance to her superior, Beldise Longrow, and then continued. "We currently hesitate using magic in the vicinity of Miss Lizbeth. As far as we know, she is not aware that Witches exist. For now, we held back on more active means. Miss Lizbeth shows an unusual amount of restraint. She had her awoken abilities now for over three months and has not expanded her harem of enslaved women past her former boss. We believe she still has an active conscience and may be amicable to working with us if approached correctly."
Again, Desirah Thorntree spoke up and deepened Charia's suspicion of her. "This Colette. She appears to be the source of this outbreak. What else do we know about her?"
"Not much." Lisanna looked uncomfortable admitting that. "Her connection we deducted from overheard conversations. Colette appeared to be acting as Miss Lizbeth's friend. However, the phone number used by her was disconnected and her Facebook page was deleted. We managed to reconstruct this picture from the backup servers of said website."
The second piece of a puzzle Charia hadn't known the CWC was supposed to solve fell in place. Connecting a low-priority case to one that could potentially blow up in their face. Charia knew of one other instance of the Streukat line causing trouble. With nearly disastrous consequences. Not just for Witches, but humanity in general. They had to be careful in determining how to proceed.
Just as Charia was about to speak up again, another witch stood up. This time, it was a male witch of the investigative branch. Those were rare as most witches were women. Hesitant, he stepped forward. Charia waved him on. She didn't have all day.
"Albestair Crowspite," he introduced himself. "Last month, I presented a case here of a witch who used a spell to link instruments of sexual gratification - sex toys - to paying customers. Allowing them to share senses with these implements. The case is closed and the witch was punished. However, this witch claimed she got the spell she used from another witch. The description given matches these pictures."
Charia didn't like where this was heading. Two more Witches stood up and made themselves known. However, Desirah Thorntree held up a hand. Making them stop. Wordlessly, she placed a case file onto the shared desk of the council.
A shudder went through Charia as she read the case file's title: The Sherman Incident. That Thorntree happened to have the case file on her person was troublesome. Yet Charia believed this was just the tip of the iceberg of the shitstorm they were about to enter.
Thorntree opened up the case file and paged through it. No explanation was needed. Every witch on the council was familiar with it. A witch by the name of Penny Velberta had used an unknown spell to detach male genitals and link them to a new host. One Beatrice Sherman. Beatrice used her influence over the witch Velberta to acquire hundreds of male genitals. The victims appeared then to slowly turn into women. Sperm produced by these detached genitals appeared to be highly addictive. First claiming the witch Penny Velberta and later the first two teams sent to contain the host Beatrice Sherman. Containment was achieved but didn't last.
Thorntree paused on a page that was half a year old. Every councilwoman knew about the contents, but Desirah felt it needed pointing out again. The page confirmed the suspected link of Beatrice Sherman to the Streukat line. Explaining the unusual properties that the host later exhibited. That information could have helped, but without it, over fifty witches had been lost. Charia's predecessor among them.
Desirah Thorntree wasn't done. She opened up to a new page. It was one Charia was unfamiliar with. It was a report not a week old. A team trying to uncover how a low-grade witch like Penny Velberta could cause such an incident stumbled onto a curious fact. Penny had shared an apprenticeship with another witch named Colette. No last name. Said Collette appeared to be a ghost. Most documents about her appeared to have vanished or were forgeries.
Anger welled within Charia. All these cases appeared to be connected. The common nominator was a witch named Colette. And Desirah Thorntree had known about it and remained quiet. Until now. Charia knew it was a string she had to pull on. But not now. Not in front of junior witches. The time was to act. More puzzle pieces had been revealed, but Charia would be damned if she believed it was all of them. Quick and decisive actions were required.
"Agent Corsand." Charia fixed on Lisanna with her gaze. "You are to request two assault teams of the punitive branch immediately. They will be your backup. Once they are in place, you are to contact this Lizbeth McGuire. Preferably through an intermediate. Male and mundane would be best. Cooperation would be appreciated, but not required. Your main task is to get informed about this Colette. By any means necessary. Once this task is done, you will spearhead the task force that hunts down that witch."
Lisanna Corsand gave a deep bow. "Understood, head councilwoman."
"Agent Dristle." Charia's mood lightened a little as she saw the junior witch twitch in surprise. "You are to assemble a task force from the unassigned agents of the investigative branch. Working in parallel to agent Corsand, you are to put the boots on the ground and find me leads. This Collette appears to target witches of low skill or persons of below awakening magical potential. Go through all known witches that cause trouble periodically. Find out if they have a common nominator. This could be the witch known as Colette, or it could be someone else. We cannot dismiss the possibility that this Colette doesn't work alone."
Charia now addressed all the witches in the room. "This has the highest priority. As such, this meeting - and the rest of the reviews- are adjourned to tomorrow. Dismissed."
The witches scattered. Charia could hear the many whispered conversations that surely would revolve around today's revealed facts. Rumors would run rampant. Even Charia couldn't prevent that.
As the room emptied, only Charia and Desirah remained.
"We have to talk about your predecessor." Desirah sounded for once not hard and unyielding, but compassionate.
"What is there to talk about?" Charia asked and hoped to not hear an answer. "She sacrificed herself and others to neutralize Beatrice Sherman. It is done."
Thorntree opened up a new page in the Sherman file. The very last and newest addition. It showed an aerial picture of a red landscape. Surrounding a white milky lake were strange buildings. Charia didn't even need to read the report below to know it was Mars.
The councilwoman's face drained of blood. "Shit!"
"Exactly." Thorntree closed the case file. "We need to prepare. This could mean war."
Joshua felt like a hermit coming down his mountain of solitude. It would be fine, he told himself. Yes, he hadn't showered. His beard was uncombed and a mess. Not quite a full beard, but too much grown wild to look cultivated. He also needed a haircut. And maybe he shouldn't leave his apartment in his bathrobe. His precious stash of clean clothes had melted away. So much so that he ran the washing machine for the first time in two weeks. So, the bathrobe it was. On the off chance that he needed his last clean outfit for something important.
The stairs were creaking with each step down. This building was a mess. Granted, the landlord tried, but there was no mistaking it. It was old as hell. At least, it was cheap. Or had been. When Joshua still had a job. Now, he was overdue for a while.
The lobby hinted at the bygone past of luxury. Once, this building housed grand apartments for the wealthy. As they moved away, those apartments had been split up time and time again. The lobby itself was generous in space. It even had two couches and side tables. It had seen better days, of course. As had the lobby itself. Not for the first time, Joshua wondered if the lobby or his apartment was bigger.
His mailbox was overflowing. Again, he had postponed emptying it as far as he could. Always bad news in it. Most of it had been caused by himself. The person who sent hundreds of applications usually received hundreds of rejection letters. By now, he couldn't afford to send as many. Still, there was always the silver lining that there was one letter with a callback.
"Shit!" Opening up, a small avalanche of letters flooded into his arms. He scrambled to not let any fall. Once tamed, Joshua tried to sift through them quickly. Most were thin. The bare minimum. The envelope and one sheet of paper. Probably a rejection letter. Three were thicker. Multiple pages. Not a good sign. Even worse were the ones with red stamped on letters that said "overdue".
The tortured squeal of the front door clued Joshua in that he wasn't alone anymore. A glance revealed Miss Whitecreek and Joshua scrambled to close his mailbox. It was time to go back to his life of being a hermit.
It was a mistake to turn from his mailbox in the direction Miss Whitecreek was coming from. For a moment, he was shocked enough to drop all his mail. He never had gotten a handle on Miss Whitecreek and even less on her bosom. One day, she runs around nearly flat-chested. The next day, her cleavage puts Pamela Anderson's to shame. If someone asked him what size she truly had, Joshua wouldn't bet money on coming even close. He knew there were push-ups and binders. But Miss Whitecreek defied what physics might rule as probable.
Today, Miss Whitecreek had taken physics by the underwear and had pulled a wedgie, slapped it thrice, and called it silly. Joshua couldn't even describe her size with words. Her current cup size must be somewhere in the mid-range of the alphabet. Hence him losing his mail.
"Sorry." He scrambled to pick up all his letters. Clutching them to his chest, Joshua made for the stairs.
"Mister Farmer, right?"
Joshua stopped. He hoped to go unnoticed. Now he was caught in his miserable state. He half turned around. Expecting dismissive comments about his disheveled appearance.
"You dropped something!"
Again, Joshua's glance was riveted to breasts that had no business being this big. Thoughts hammered in his head that he was being rude right now, but his eyes were glued. Until he noticed something red in the peripheral of his tunnel vision. Slow, he managed to focus on it. A letter. The envelope was an angry red.
With slightly trembling hands, he grabbed it. "Thanks." His voice might have been inaudible or barely a whisper. This day couldn't get any worse. On the way up the stairs, he confirmed the sender. It looked like his landlord had become tired of waiting for his money. The question was, how much time Joschua had now before being evicted.
Slipping into his apartment, Joshua let himself fall against the door. Breathing as hard as if he had run a marathon. Now, it all came crashing down. He had seen it for a while, but now the butcher's bill was due. Next stop in life: homelessness.
The sudden buzz of his doorbell nearly gave Joshua a heart attack. This couldn't be the landlord already, right? Maybe the police? To evict him by force. Nightmarish scenarios unfolded in his head. They would only stop if he opened the door. He placed his hand on the door and gathered strength. Breath in. Breath out. After the third time repeating, he opened the door.
It was Miss Whitecreek. Giving him a gentle smile as he opened the door. The fact that he noticed her smile was strange too. She had changed. Not just into another top. Her bosom had stopped defying the laws of physics. They even looked normal for a woman of her figure.
"I am sorry to disturb you." If Miss Whitecreek was perturbed by his looks, she didn't let it be known. "I was wondering if you, perhaps, would join me for a cup of tea."
Joshua needed a moment. Parsing the heard sentences again and again through his mind. And they made sense. But only addressed to anyone else but him.
His confusion limited an otherwise eloquent reply to one word: "What?"
"Well." Miss Whitecreek gave him a coy smile. "It is nearly afternoon and I could use some company. Tea time is best enjoyed if not alone."
Those words didn't make any more sense to Joshua than those before. Why would a woman in her late thirties he hardly knew invite him into her apartment? And for tea? "I don't think that is a good idea."
"I think it is a great idea," Miss Whitecreek insisted. "I made a fresh pie this morning. You can have a slice or two."
"I am not hungry." If it rains, it pours. The next betrayal came from his stomach, which used this moment to loudly growl. Of course, he was hungry. He lived off cheap instant noodles for the past few weeks. Just the thought of pie - any kind of pie - had his mouth watering.
"I take that as a yes." She beamed at him. As if none of his words had any meaning. "I'll be seeing you in half an hour. Don't be late."
As she turned around, Joshua needed a moment to close the door. What the hell was going on? Nothing made sense anymore. First, the eviction letter, and now this? What did she even want with him? Maybe she needed a boy toy for the night. Joshua nearly snorted at the thought. Yeah, sure. He was the epitome of sexy right now. With an unkempt beard and tousled hair, while dressed in a bathrobe that needs an urgent appointment with a washer too.
Then again, what did he have to lose? If all he would have in his immediate future were the streets of his city, why not have one last slice of pie? It would probably be the last time anyone around him would acknowledge him as human.
But he couldn't go as he was right now. There was still a last smidgen of pride in his bones. Half an hour. It was not a lot. Joshua sprang into action. The first stop was the shower. He needed one desperately. There wasn't much body wash left, but what he managed to squeeze out had to double as a shampoo too.
Stumbling out of the bathtub, Joshua went for the razor. There was no saving this beard. It had to come off. He should've been more careful, but time was of the essence. Hence the rushed job cost him a few nicks here and there. Taming his damp hair took longer. By now, his once shortcut hairstyle had sprouted into a mess that nearly reached his shoulders. There was no time for a haircut appointment and he didn't have an electric razor. He doubted anything with scissors would end well. Hence he smoothed it out as best as he could and tied it into a small ponytail.
The choice of clothing was limited. Slacks, white shirt, and jacket. His suit reserved for job interviews. It was halfway clean. A bit too formal for tea, but better than a stained t-shirt and jeans. Or a bathrobe. At last, he left his apartment. Ringing the bell of Miss Whitecreek thirty-five minutes later.
Only seconds later, the door was opened. "Ah, Mister Farmer. I half thought you'd stood me up. But now I see you dressed up for the occasion. Please. Come in."
Her hallway was immaculate and tastefully decorated. She waved him onward. "You can keep your shoes on. This way. I have everything ready."
She led him to a room Joshua might describe as a reading parlor. A small table with two chairs by the large windows. Every other wall had bookcases that reached up to the high ceiling. They weren't all filled with books. Here and there leather-bound paper had to make space for some curio. It gave Joshua strange vibes.
Something about it gave him an esoteric feel. He heard of Witches. What are they called nowadays? Wicca? Or maybe those soothsayers and fortune tellers at every carnival ever. Not that Joshua believed any of it. These curios made him believe Miss Whitecreek was into that stuff. Maybe on a more academic level. She could be into anthropology. Maybe gathering it for the study of folklore and whatnot. Now that Joshua thought about it, he had no idea what she did for a living.
Miss Whitecreek took a seat and indicated for Joshua to do the same. His eyes fell on the pie. Pecan. Not his favorite, but right now, he couldn't wait to dig in. He just hoped his stomach would behave long enough that he wouldn't embarrass himself. Again.
Miss Whitecreek made a small show of pouring tea. Adding milk or sugar and asking if Joshua needed any too. Then placed each of them a slice of pie on a plate. If she was expecting small talk then she was in for a rough time. Joshua tried to pace himself, but hunger won. He was finished before Miss Whitecreek was even half done. As if it was the most natural thing in the world, she just poured him another cup and put another slice on his plate.
"You must be wondering why I invited you," Miss Whitecreek mused aloud as Joshua neared the end of his second slice.
"If I would hazard a guess, I would say charity." Maybe this was a bit direct, but he thought she might appreciate it.
"Far from it. I guess it is an apology." She actually sounded a little embarrassed. "I startled you. That was not my intention. You saw me - what do they say? - bring out the big guns? You looked very confused."
"Tits A Lot." Joshua could slap himself. Maybe if he went word by word, it would be better. "I meant. It. Was. A. Lot."
Miss Whitecreek gave a ladylike little chuckle. Betrayed by the words that followed. "Oh, they were definitely tits. Big fat tits. And believe it or not, my client wants them even bigger." Seeing Joshua confused, Miss Whitecreek collected herself and started anew. "Sorry. That was a little too forward of me. Let's start with the basics. Do you believe in magic, Mister Farmer?"
Their little talk was already giving him whiplash. She was changing gears so often that he felt a headache come on. At least, he had been somewhat right. Her question implied she was into esoteric stuff for sure. The question was if she was a believer or just someone who studied it for fun or academia.
"I am afraid not," Joshua admitted. "If there ever was such a thing as magic then it must have left this world before I was born."
"Or very well hidden," Miss Whitecreek added and chuckled over her own joke. "But I take it you are a skeptic. Would you allow me to convince you otherwise?"
"Sure." She had wined and dined him. Well tea-ed and pie-ed him. It bought her enough goodwill that Joshua could at least humor her. She probably will read him his future or lay some cards. He didn't see anything to pull out a rabbit or pigeon. Not unless she hid them in her cleavage.
To his surprise, Miss Whitecreek really did start to undo the buttons to her blouse. Joshua looked as two breasts appeared. Of course, he looked. She expected him to look, right? Tho these ones were a lot smaller than those she had surprised him with earlier.
Then, she reached in. Somehow peeling off her left breast before his very eye. The right one followed moments later. Now utterly flat-chested, she showed him both separated breasts.
Now that made sense. Miss Whitecreek wore inserts. He didn't know how they stayed put, but that would explain the huge fluctuations in her apparent bosom size. Maybe there was some kind of adhesive under them that held them in place. All very explainable. No magic at all. Except for those huge tits from before. He doubted even industrial glue could wield them to her skin. Now that would take magic. Or, more likely, a very good bra.
Joshua had it all figured out. Until Miss Whitecreek placed her left breast on the table. It not only stuck to it but appeared to fuse to the very surface. The rose-pink skin started to change to brown. Mimicking the table perfectly. Right down to the woodgrain.
Joshua lifted his hand but stopped halfway. "Go ahead," Miss Whitecreek dared him. "Touch it." So, he did. The breast was solid under his fingertips. Not a little bit of give. It felt like lacquered wood and sounded like it too as he rapped with his knuckles on it. He even tried to pry the breasts from the table. There was no give at all.
"Now, touch this one," she instructed him and held out her right breast.
It was soft and cold. Not ice cold. Room temperature he guessed. It was pliable. Just as a breast should be. Then, Miss Whitecreek brushed off the last crumbs from Joshua's plate and placed her breast on it. In seconds, it fused. Became one with it. The skin turned white as the plate and even the delicate painting on the rim of it was transferred to the breast where it overlapped.
He could lift the plate. It was now significantly heavier. The breast didn't slide off as he tipped the plate. Under his fingertips, it was hard and smooth. Just like porcelain should be. But not breasts.
With slightly trembling hands, he handed her back his plate. "I admit, if that isn't magic, then it might be so advanced technology that it might as well be magic." Maybe nanites. But Joshua didn't voice his guess aloud.
"I admit, I never had a hand for technology." Her frown looked downright cute. A fact that felt a little strange to Joshua, as she was a decade or more older than him. Peeling off both breasts from their new homes appeared to be as easy as from her own skin. Then, she stood up. "Come on. I would like to show you my library."
Joshua looked at the many bookshelves. "This isn't it?"
Miss Whitecreek gave him a small amused laugh but remained quiet. She went back to the hallway. "You know, most others would have run by now. I think choosing you was the right call to make."
"Choosing me for-" Joshua's question died on his lips as they entered a new room. All the walls were covered in large tiles. Many of them had protruding pairs of breasts on them. A few of those breasts were so large that they took up two tiles at once. He saw all kinds of shapes and sizes. Some were more round while others had more of a teardrop shape. Most were quite perky, but not all.
Leaving the stunned Joshua by the door, Miss Whitecreek went in and placed her pair of breasts on a tile. In moments they stuck and turned to ceramic. She then waved him over. "Pick a pair. Any pair."
Hesitant, Joshua followed her suggestion. Looking at each of the pairs. He even spotted the mammoth ones that had to be those from down in the lobby. He was half-minded to pick them. Just to see that this really wasn't a trick. Instead, he chose one at random. Large ones. On Miss Whitecreek's slender frame they might amount to a D-Cup or double-D. They had large areolas and puffy nipples.
"Good choice." As she peeled them off the wall, they turned to flesh. However, not the pale skin as before. Rather a deep brown. "They were a donation. A trans-man was donating them to me. And it would have been a shame to just cut them off, don't you think."
"Sure." What else was he supposed to say?
Miss Whitecreek placed first the left breast and it fused. Now taking on the pink skin that she possessed. Then the right one followed. "Now, the last check. So, just to make sure you really believe me when I say that magic exists. Go ahead. Make sure they are real."
Joshua looked doubtful, but as she simply waited, he complied. He was gentle. Cupping them without using too much force. They felt real. Soft and warm. Not room temperature, but body temperature.
"They are real, alright," Joshua admitted. "And I guess magic too."
"Good." She looked mightily satisfied with herself. "Now, let's revisit the reason you are here."
"I don't have any breasts to steal." The bad joke slipped over his tongue before he could stop himself.
"No, you don't. And I rather thought about the opposite. Let me explain." She turned around to the wall behind them. As Joshua did too, he now noticed that the tiles there were covered in breasts too. But these he often could barely make out. If not for the nipples, many would be too flat to notice. "You see, for a not-so-small fee, I take breasts in. Yes, I can indeed steal them from other people. Not that I want to. These here are all by customers. I can place an enchantment on them that makes them grow while placed on someone with enough magical potential. And when they are the right size, I return them to their owner. Who then has bigger breasts without hassle or stupid silicone implants."
"That's quite the job you have," Joshua admitted. Looking over three dozen underdeveloped breasts, another thought occurred to him. "And quite the workload."
"And that's where you come in."
"Me?" Did he just mishear? "You want me to wear breasts. No, wait. That wouldn't work. You said someone who does magic."
"Someone with magical potential," Miss Whitecreek corrected. "No, you can't do magic. There isn't enough magical potential inside you. But there is some. Enough for my enchantments to work."
"But. I can't wear breasts," Joshua protested.
"Why not? I am not saying you need to wear large ones. Look at these." She peeled off a pair that had been nearly flat against the ceramic tile. "The target size for these is around a b-cup for someone of your chest size. With your magical potential, it might take only a few days. Easily hidden under clothing and off before they get noticeable."
Surprisingly, it sounded doable. The emotional part of Joshua was freaking out. But the logical part smelled opportunity. "W-what would I get out of this?"
"For this pair?" She dangled them around like sunny-side-up eggs. "Two hundred bucks upfront upon placing them on you. Four hundred upon taking them off when they have reached the right size. Taking a larger target size means more money. But you don't need to go all the way. If someone wants bigger than you are comfortable I can always finish the job myself. You get paid for how much you contribute."
Miss Whitecreek smiled. Of course, she did. The moment she had the letter with the eviction notice in her hand she knew Joshua was desperate. That he would accept. Because what else was he to do? Pound his chest, profess his undying commitment to being a man, and promptly land on the streets? If he stuck to small breasts then it sounded doable. Reasonable even."
"We have a deal, Miss Whitecreek." He offered his hand.
"Call me Twilla, partner." They shook.
"Then I guess you can call me Joshua too," he said to return the sentiment.
"Now then, Joshua. Shall we get started?"
He nodded. It took a few moments for him to realize that the initiative was on his part. He felt nervous as he shrugged off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt.
As Twilla placed the underdeveloped breasts on his chest, they felt cold for a moment. The strangest tingling went through him and then it was over. He didn't even feel different. The breasts had been so little that he could hardly make them out on his chest.
"See? That ain't so bad, is it?"
"Guess not," Joshua admitted.
"Well then. I guess the next step is due." She removed ten twenty dollar bills from her pocket and handed them over. "And as a signing bonus, I can offer you some more Pecan pie. Sounds good? I can already feel we will get along famously. Now that we are breast buddies."
Not if she would make more such bad puns, but Joshua chose to remain quiet on that point. Not while pie was at stake.
Another day or two, Joshua guessed. They started to actually look like breasts instead of just a little too much fat on his rips. Not that he had excess fat anywhere on his body. He still was climbing back to a healthy level from the skin and bones version he had been turned into. Thankfully, he slowly gained back what he lost. Now that he could actually afford decent food.
"Another payday soon," Joshua promised his reflection in the mirror. Then he started to get dressed. This was the third pair he grew for Miss Whitecreek - Twilla - and this little job paid more than his last two combined. Nearly two thousand bucks in a little over two weeks.
They weren't even noticeable under a loose-fitting t-shirt. Tomorrow, they might be noticeable if one was very observant. Joshua wondered if he should take a bigger target cup size for his next pair. It would mean a bigger payout. In the end, he might need to stay a day or two in the apartment. Just to be sure he wouldn't be found out. Of course, going bigger was purely for the money. Not that he was actually tempted to find out how a decent amount of breasts felt.
Once dressed, Joshua grabbed a beer from the fridge and wondered what to do. Not for the first time, he mused that he could write more job applications. Surely, Twilla would run out of breasts to grow at some point. Now that Joshua was helping to make a dent in her workload. And he could grow breasts while being somewhere at work too. He just had to be a little careful.
Maybe later. Joshua let himself drop onto the chair and turned the TV on. He zapped through a few channels until a news report caught his attention.
"It is most certainly an eruption of water," an expert source explained from a small little window. Below him was a close-up shot of an areal view that might be Mars. A white area marked was in the center of the red desert and small tendrils seemed to reach out.
"It is very white for water," an attractive newscaster pointed out.
Joshua could clearly see the expert try to stifle a smirk.
"Well, Mars is very cold. Said water is now snow or ice."
The newscaster clearly looked annoyed, but she kept her cool. "Then how do you explain that the newest captured material clearly shows the white material flow as if it was still liquid? Forming, what appears to be, rivers."
Whatever reply followed was swallowed by the angry buzzing of his doorbell. "I'm coming!" Joshua yelled as whoever was at the door and wouldn't stop ringing the buzzer. Whoever it was, Joshua would give them a piece of his mind.
Throwing open the door, every protest slipped his mind as he saw Mister Casiraghi. As well as three burly guys, who wasted no time and pushed past Joshua into the apartment.
"Hey, you can't just-"
"Oh, they can!" Casiraghi shouted over Joshua. "I had enough. You are out."
"But I paid my rent," Joshua protested weakly. "I wired it last week."
"One!" His landlord raised a finger. "Of eight you owe me. Your time is up. No, save your bullshit excuses. They won't help you anymore."
"But. I got a job now. A good one."
"I do not care!"
Joshua was pushed to the side when one of the men walked out with his TV. "You can't just-"
"Mister Casiraghi, is this really necessary?" Miss Whitecreek stood on the staircase and gave a man twenty years her senior a disapproving look that every mother would be proud of. "I can assure you, Mister Farmer has an income now. In a matter of-"
"This doesn't concern you, Miss Whitecreek," Casiraghi snapped at her. "He is out. And if I sell his junk I might see a fraction of the money he owes me."
Twilla looked ready to protest some more, but then changed tactics. "At least, let him pack some clothes and any important documents he has."
The landlord glared at her for a few seconds. Then backed down. "Fine. You got ten minutes. Boys, make sure he only grabs papers and some clothes. Nothing of worth leaves with him. Not even a bloody smartphone."
Joshua cursed himself. For a moment he had thought things would look up. How wrong he was. The street was his destination after all. It took him only five to grab everything essential. Then he was marched out of his former apartment.
"Keys," Casiraghi demanded. As Joshua handed them over, his former landlord had a few more choice words to say. "Now get the fuck outta my building. I don't want to see you here anymore."
"I certainly think not," Twilla protested. "As it happens, Mister Farmer will be staying with me as my guest. Or am I evicted too?"
Joshua could hear the teeth grinding of Mister Casiraghi. But his former landlord swallowed his pride soon enough. "Of course not, Miss Whitecreek. Just, keep him out of trouble. That boy is not good for anybody."
Dejected, Joshua followed Twilla up the stairs to her apartment. "I am sorry," he said when they were alone again. "I didn't mean to be a burden."
"Nonsense," Twilla assured him. "I got a free bedroom for guests. You can stay there until you get ground under your feet again. I have the feeling that it shouldn't take too long."
Joshua gave a fragile smile. He had to admit, Twilla's optimism was infectious. "I'll do my best," he promised.
"Oh, let me show you your room." Twilla walked with sure steps, but then suddenly stopped. Turning around to him, she looked a little embarrassed. "I hope you don't mind the decorations. For a while now, I used the room to store a little bit of extra tits and boobs."
Joshua gave a weak smile. Slowly, he warmed up to Twilla's sense of humor and off-beat puns. "I am sure I don't mind a few bits and bobs. I am just grateful to have someplace to-"
Joshua fell silent as she opened the room. Breasts. Breasts everywhere. It hadn't been a pun. Breasts of all sizes dotted the walls. They hugged every surface of the dresser and even the headboard of the bed. Stumbling in, he couldn't help but pick up one of the pillows."They even stick to pillows?"
"Surprisingly comfortable," Twilla said and gave him a shrug. "You see, I got a lot of donations. My job would be way easier if I could just swap them with customers who want bigger ones. But somehow most are rather attached to the idea of having their own back. Just bigger."
"Well, good. Then you need me and that gets me paid." Joshua took a longer look around. Every surface was covered with breasts. Be it the backside of the door or stuck to the ceiling. Hopefully one of them wouldn't fall off while he slept underneath them. "This will take some time to get used to." A random thought made him laugh out loud. One Twilla's questioning looks, he had to explain. "Fifth-grade me would have loved this room."
"I hope it isn't too much," Twilla admitted. "If so, I am sure we can find another spot to store them."
"Tits A Lot." That got a chuckle out of her. His first misspeaking had become a common phrase between them. "I think I can manage. Adult me can handle it."
"Good. Good. I'll leave you to it." Just as she was about to close the door behind her, she addressed him once more. "Tea in an hour? Then we can go over some details. I am afraid it has been a while since I last had a roommate."
"Sounds good."
As soon as the door was closed, Joshua sat down on the bed and gave a deep sigh. Once again a day had turned into a roller-coaster of events. And again, Twilla saved him from becoming homeless. He was grateful. Not just to have her as a business partner. Slowly, a friendship developed. One he cherished more than ever.
Taking a deep breath, Joshua stood up. Time to put away his meager belongings. At least, he could look forward to a payday in a day or two. It might go now into clothing instead of something else. He grabbed the dresser's former knobs - now two breasts - and opened it up. Only to let out a choked-up laugh. Shaking his head, he placed his clothing wherever there was space between large wooden breasts.
"Tits a lot, for sure."
"You can use this towel and this bathrobe. Oh, I got a washcloth too." Twilla loaded both onto Joshua's arms. "Now, you can use one of my body washes. They are in the red bottles. Just don't use the coral red one. Oh, and the shampoos are in the purple bottles. Just maybe don't use the Fuchsia one. The conditioners are green. Again, best avoid the honeydew-colored one."
"Thanks. Sorry for being such a burden."
"Oh, nonsense," Twilla waved him off. "I know how it is. Listen, one can fail at being a witch. And if you studied witchcraft all these years and don't make it, there aren't a lot of practical skills one has to face the mundane world. If it wasn't for a friend- Let's just say I am paying it forward. And maybe - one day - you can do the same for someone else."
"I'll remember this," Joshua promised her. "One day I will-"
"Yeah. Yeah. Don't get mushy on me. Now off you go. Wash those breasts, you hear me? They are merchandise, after all."
Joshua chuckled. "Yes, boss."
Twilla's bathroom looked a lot different than his own. It was decorated for one. By someone who understood color theory no less. It was also very organized. There were indeed colored bottles on a small shelf beside the bathtub. Neatly sorted by color groups. What really surprised him was that he couldn't spot any pair of breasts anywhere. Granted. if he discounted the pair hanging from his chest.
Hanging up his towel on a free hook, Joshua climbed into the bathtub. Just a shower, he decided. A bath might take up too much time and Twilla probably wants to use her own bath this evening too. First, he had to select a body wash. Very helpful, all red bottles had exactly that written on their label followed by a number. Of course, Twilla made her own body washes and other lotions. She was a witch after all. Joshua wouldn't expect any less.
Now, what had Twilla said? He should avoid the coral red bottle? What exactly did coral red look like? A little confused, Joshua went with one that was more pinkish-orange than red. If it wasn't very red then it probably wasn't named coral red.
Soaping up felt nice. And whatever Twilla had put in it certainly made his skin silky smooth. Joshua somehow felt cheated by products aimed at men. If those for women had such an effect, he might switch to female stuff for good. Of course, he paid special attention to the small budding breasts. Still a strange feeling, but he started to get used to them. They were his third pair after all. Not his first rodeo.
He used the body wash for all of his body. Including his face. Paying special attention to not getting it into his hair. That really needed a haircut. Maybe some of his next paycheck should go into that. Not just clothes. But after the body wash, Joshua was curious if the shampoo was equally as good.
But reaching out, he hesitated. What color was Fuchsia again? Twilla said it was a shade of purple. Yet one of the bottles was hardly purple. More pinkish. And its label marked it as shampoo. Probably the safest bet.
Messaging the shampoo in, Joshua needed a moment to notice a slight burning sensation. Maybe he had grabbed the wrong bottle after all. Or maybe he was allergic to one of the ingredients. It was a homemade shampoo after all. Rinsing it out a little early, Joshua turned to the conditioners. Only to hesitate again.
What kind of green was honeydew again? He thought it was named after a melon. And melons to him were dark green. Selecting a pale green, he thought he might be good on that front. Just lathering it in, lessened the burning sensation. But after a minute, he felt some tingling. And a slight itching. Was he allergic to all of them?
Washing it all out, he stepped out to dry off. Nearly cussing out loud. That towel was so soft it practically glided over his skin. That, he decided, he could get used to.
Doing the bathrobe, Joshua stepped out. "Twilla, I think I might be allergic to one of your shampoos. Kinda feels itchy."
Twilla looked up at him and burst out laughing. It took her a long time to calm down, while Joshua stood there confused and scratching his scalp.
"Didn't I tell you to not use the Fuchsia shampoo? And I think you used the honeydew conditioner too."
"I am not good with colors," Joshua admitted sheepishly. "Red is red and green is green. And they looked like safe bets. What happens now? Will my hair fall out?"
Twilla gave another chuckle before answering. "The opposite actually. Both are hair growth potions. Just mixed into my shampoo and conditioner. I fear you might be in for a rough night. That hair of you will sprout like weeds."
"Oh, just great." Exactly what he needed. The opposite of a haircut. Even longer hair to annoy him.
Twilla gave him a strange look and then got up to take a closer look at Joshua. Only to burst out into new laughter. "Speaking of growing hair. Looks like we need to grow you new eyebrows."
"What?" Joshua reached for his brows and only found smooth skin. "Oh, damn. That grows back, right?"
"Sure." Twilla gave him very assuring nodding and barely concealed laughter. "You just used my get-ready-for-summer body wash. Slightly enhanced by magic for maximum depilatory effect. Keeps one smooth for nearly three months."
"I can't run around without eyebrows for three months!"
"Beard either," Twilla added. Upon his glare, he relented. "Nothing a little coral red and honeydew can't fix. Come on. Time to grow you new eyebrows. And eyelashes."
As Joshua awoke, he had to admit that Twilla had been right. Who would have guessed that pillows with boobs would be this comfortable? If it just hadn't been for that itchy scalp, it would have been perfect.
Sitting up, his head felt oddly heavy. Then he saw. Hair. So much hair. Quickly standing up, his new mane of hair fell down. Past his hips.
"Oh, shit." He was close to panicking, but then reminded himself that mankind had invented a brilliant thing called scissors. He could always cut off most of it. Maybe Twilla was gifted to give him a halfway decent haircut. Couldn't be worse than what he'd manage.
Eyebrows. Joshua remembered and felt above his eyes. His stomach dropped. That felt awfully bushy. He needed a mirror. See the damage done. Joshua rushed to the bathroom. His reflection was waiting.
"Twilla!" His shout was half in anger and half in panic.
Oh, he had eyebrows. They sprouted inches off his face. Like some antenna of an alien. And his eyelashes were at least two inches. Definitely not cool. Twilla better fixes that too.
And don't she dare laugh at him too much!
"Miss? Miss, you forgot your peas."
Joshua stopped. Was the cashier talking to him? Turning around, Joshua indeed saw the cashier hold up the small can of peas. One he apparently forgot to pack.
Blushing, Joshua was quick to grab the can and put it to the rest of his purchases. A quick "Thanks" and he rushed out of the supermarket.
Had he really just been mistaken for a woman? Joshua glanced down. No, it couldn't be his breasts. He had just switched to his fourth pair. No one would notice them unless he ran around shirtless. With the jacket, it was even less likely.
Maybe that was the culprit. He had borrowed the jacket from Twilla. His own had been lost in the eviction. One of the items he missed grabbing in the rush. It was still a sore topic for him to talk about or even to think about. Then again, the jacket wasn't that feminine.
Speaking of feminine. The products Twilla asked him to buy for her probably didn't help. He felt like stepping into forbidden territory when entering the female hygiene aisle. Rarely had he sported a blush that was this deep of embarrassment.
The truth was, he was probably overthinking it. The culprit was his hair. Joshua wanted to cut it off, but Twilla had been over the moon about how luscious and silken it had turned out. She had argued for him to keep it. Joshua was determined to get rid of it until Twilla resorted to a language he loved to hear. A deal was struck. A hundred bucks if he kept it for a month. Now he cursed her for appealing to his greedy side. At least, he had bartered it down to waist length. More than once he had sat down on it when it still reached past his butt. An annoyance he could do without.
Of course, his face was another sore spot. There wasn't even a hint of beard stubble on his skin. Leaving it baby smooth. The only facial hair he got were eyelashes and eyebrows. Both of them had been Twilla's work. They had turned out so girly. Granted, they needed a trim after his accident and he probably would have done a much worse job. But both were rather feminine in appearance.
Twilla argued she had no experience shaping eyebrows for men. Joshua had to admit she had a point there. Still, something in him suspected Twilla couldn't help herself tweaking it slightly towards the feminine on purpose. The whole morning she had a grand old time having fun at his expense. And he couldn't really fault her for it. He had messed up. Big time. At least, it was a temporary situation.
He was ready to put the topic aside when the greedy part of his mind spoke up. Maybe he should embrace it. If he could pass for a woman, then he could get away with raising breasts to a bigger size. It would mean a larger payout.
Joshua shook his head. That shampoo had really messed with his mind in more ways than one.
For a moment, Joshua had hoped. Two weeks into his stay with Twilla, he had started to send out applications again. One had even resulted in an interview. The very same he now trotted away from. Still, it was progress. At least, that's what he told himself.
Twilla would be disappointed too. She had been hyped for him. Now, she would share his disappointment. The very thought made him smile a little. Twilla was one hundred percent the doting mother hen type who would try to cheer him up as soon as he would come home. Maybe there was a yummy pie or cake in his future. That was a silver lining that blew away most of the dark clouds.
As he neared their homes, Joshua had talked himself into high spirits. A minor setback. He had worse before and shouldn't let it ruin his mood. However, one glance at his apartment building pulled the rug from under his feet.
Police cruisers blocked the road to both sides and police officers rolled out a yellow tape. Smack in the middle of the cordoned-off zone was Joshua's apartment building. With a hole in his stomach, Joshua walked over to the other spectators.
"What's going on?" he asked the closest officer manning the perimeter.
The guy shrugged. "Not supposed to say anything, but I don't really know either. Some kind of raid. If I had to guess, illegal substances."
Just then, a black SUV arrived. It was let through and four women stepped out. Joshua had heard of the Men In Black. Like the movie franchise too. However, he had never heard of Women In Black with expertly tailored suits and fedoras that looked a bit too pointy than normal.
Together, they walked into the building. His first reaction had been that somehow, he had gotten into trouble again. Now, he feared for Twilla. What had she been involved in?
He suddenly spotted her. Flanked by two of the suited women, Twilla was escorted towards the SUV. As she noticed him, she gave him a slight shake of her head. Whatever was going on, he should stay out of it.
The black SUV drove off. It was soon replaced by an equally black truck. The agents of whatever agency had raided this place walked out with an unending stream of boxes. All loaded onto the truck. After hours, Joshua could swear the feds had cleaned out the whole apartment. The truck rolled away and the cops removed the tape. Ten minutes later, the road was cleared and nothing remained that even hinted at the raid.
Worried, Joshua had his way into the building. He half expected the door to Twilla's apartment sealed off with crime scene tape. But nothing even hinted at anything untoward. His key still fitted in, and he slipped in before anyone could show up. Like a certain landlord.
At first, nothing sprang at Joshua that was wrong or changed. The hallway was the same. As was the kitchen and living room. The reading parlor looked like the aftermath of a Black Friday Sale. Most of the curios in the bookshelves were gone and just a half dozen books remained. It was a pitiful view.
The bathroom was the same. Except, something was missing. Upon closer examination, Joshua noticed most of the body wash, shampoo, and conditioner bottles had been removed. This didn't bode well. On his way to his room, Joshua found the door to Twilla's "library" open. It was utterly empty. No breast, tit, or sweater puppy remained. They were all gone. Just the blank tiles remained.
His own room wasn't better. Stripped of everything that even vaguely looked like a breast. Even his pillows were now utterly normal. Looking into the dresser, Joshua could see all his belongings. Now that no breasts crowded it, his possessions looked even more sparse inside the dresser.
"Just what have you gotten yourself into, Twilla?" he asked the room. To his surprise, there was an answer. A sudden flash of light and then a letter fluttered down on his bed. It was addressed to him. Dreading what he would find, he opened the envelope nonetheless.
Dear Joshua,
I hope this letter finds you. I used an old trick from school times to hide it for you. The most important thing first: don't panic.
I've been raided by the CWC. The Central Witch Council. Not my first time, I must admit. They like to do that sometimes. Little saber-rattling to keep us witches, who don't belong to a coven, in line.
I'll probably be gone for a month or two. Probably have some kind of community outreach program in my immediate future. To get me back on track again. Practically a slap on the wrist.
If it should take longer after all, then don't worry. The apartment is paid for a year in advance and if money runs tight, there are a few thousand bucks under my mattress that you can use. Of course, whatever you take you have to work off later.
I have to go.
See you soon,
Twilla
It still sounded bad. Just not as bad as Joshua had feared. Twilla had mentioned that she was a "failed witch". Whatever that meant, he had never dared to ask. But at least her absence wasn't that long. With a sigh, he let himself fall onto his bed. Only to have it feel off. He had gotten used to the soft fabric breasts on his pillow. Now, he had to do without.
"Damn it, Twilla," Joshua cursed. "This was not the deal."
Of course, his roommate and friend couldn't reply. She wasn't even here. Joshua was looking again into the reflection of the hallway mirror. They were noticeable. Jacket and all. They still pushed through.
"Just wait a month or two," Joshua mimicked Twilla. "Nothing to it. Sure, your breasts keep growing, but what about it? It's not like they stick out on a guy like you."
The problem was that he needed to get outside. He was out of toilet paper and food was running low too. Joshua also knew that he had to go now. Yes, his breasts were noticeable, but barely. He dreaded how large they would be the next week. Or the one after. And if Twilla was really gone for two months- Joshua didn't even want to think about that.
Right now, he still might pass as a guy. Then his mind flashed back to his last shopping experience. Maybe he should lean into it? Dress up as a woman. Looking closer into the mirror, Joshua thought he might be able to pull it off. Had his face always looked this feminine or was that just the absence of his beard?
He might as well try. Going into Twilla's room felt a little like a breach of privacy. Yet Joshua was sure she wouldn't mind under the circumstances. With a pounding heart, Joshua opened her dressers. He had no idea where to start. Joshua was the first to admit that his fashion sense was abysmal.
Maybe if he mimicked Twilla? In the past week leading up to the raid, Joshua had seen her in plenty of outfits. She often even asked his opinion. A task he especially liked when she wore a larger pair of breasts. Now he racked his brain for an outfit that might fit him. The silver lining was that their size and figure weren't that different. Her clothing might be ill-fitting on him, but they might fit.
"Oh, hell." He spotted a top and a skirt he had seen Twilla wear together. A part of him wanted to flee, but practicality won. Stripping out of his clothes, Joshua went for the skirt. It fit. Granted, his butt wasn't filling it out as much as Twilla's did, but he doubted anyone would point it out. The only trouble was that Joshua had never worn a skirt before.
The top was worse than Joshua remembered. Its collar had a deep cut out. Wearing it, everyone would see Joshua's budding breasts. Dreading the worst, he still tried it. Taking a deep breath, he turned towards the mirror.
The reflection shocked him. It was actually serviceable. He looked more like a woman than a man. Yes, to pull off the top properly, he'd have to fill it out a little more. The irony that it just needed a week's time wasn't lost on him. But for now, he had an idea.
Going for Twilla's underwear felt like breaking an even bigger taboo. Just opening the drawers felt like he might summon Twilla and her wrath on him. Which was actually fine with him. At least then, she would be home.
Bras. Twilla had a lot of them. In all kinds of cup sizes. A necessity when one switches between different bosoms with the help of magic. One section made him laugh. Twilla actually had push-up bras for the smaller cup sizes. It looked like she had her small little points of pride too. Choosing one at random, Joshua tried it on. Of course, it didn't fit. It took him four more tries to sift out one that did.
The push-up bra felt strange. So far, Joshua had always dismissed his breasts as not big enough to count. But now, he had a proper bosom. There was no denying it. And slipping the top on again, only highlighted the fact. He actually thought it looked halfway decent.
No one would guess he was a guy. It actually hurt his male pride only a little. Part of him was excited to see his new reflection. As if he was doing something forbidden with no one being the wiser. Still. Something was missing. Makeup? Joshua eyed Twilla's vanity. His friend usually wore understated makeup. Even that would be beyond his skill.
Lipstick. He probably could pull off lipstick. His first few tries were bad. Both in application and color choice. Then he nailed it. A muted pink that only highlighted his lips slightly. No smudges this time too. And somehow, even just this little change the reflection staring back looked more feminine.
"I really can do it," Joshua whispered. "I can pass as a woman."
Of course, the real test was stepping outside. And he didn't just have an excuse to do so, but the necessity. Joshua slipped into the jacket again that he had borrowed a few times from Twilla. This time, he didn't close it up completely. Showing off his bosom as if it would make his whole outfit more legitimate. In a way, it was exactly that.
"Just a quick trip to the supermarket," Joshua assured himself. Nervous, but excited too, he left the apartment. As always, every step of the staircase creaked under his steps. Especially as Joshua hurried to get downstairs.
It was this haste that carried him into the reach of his former landlord, Mister Casiraghi. Praying to whomever, Joshua pushed past. Only to have his hopes squashed.
"Excuse me, Miss."
Oh, no. What if he was recognized? Slowly, Joshua turned around. "Yes?"
"I haven't seen you before," Mister Casiraghi explained. "Are you visiting?"
The first relief of not being recognized made way for anger. What business was it of his former landlord who he was? Still, Joshua reminded himself that he shouldn't burn any bridges. In a way, he got a once-over with Mister Casiraghi.
"I am J-" Joshua tried to think hard and fast. Something usually mutually exclusive. "Jessie. I mean, Jessica. Everyone calls me Jessie though. I am, uhm, house-sitting. Well, apartment sitting. My aunt needed to get away for a while. So, I am manning the fort for Twilla."
"Miss Whitecreek?" Casiraghi asked. Then nodded. Looking very pleased. "I guess she kicked out that good-for-nothing bum, after all. You are a Whitecreek too?"
Joshua nodded. Not trusting his voice right now. He wouldn't have minded putting that smarmy ass of a landlord in his place. Instead, a nod had to do.
"Well, then. Let me welcome you to the building." The landlord even gave a small bow. "I am sure we will see each other from time to time."
"Certainly," Joshua managed to press out. Then took a hasty exit.
Pushing out of the building, Joshua took some deep breaths. That had been a close call. He still couldn't quite believe he had gotten away with it. Has he really changed that much? He was sure Casiraghi would call him out. Then again, half the time the landlord had stared at Joshua's bosom.
"About time you girls pulled your weight," he whispered to his endowment.
There was another thing that bothered Joshua. Yes, his body looked a lot differently. But what about his voice? Surely it was still recognizable. He had, on instinct, raised the pitch a little. But that couldn't make that much of a difference, right? Joshua vowed to research the topic. Surely there would be videos out there on how to talk like a woman.
The walk to the supermarket - only three blocks away - was rather eventless. The same couldn't be said for the supermarket. He got plenty of looks. Most were appreciative. A few lecherous.
"Let me help you with that," one shopper offered as Joshua reached higher up on the shelf. He still could reach it, if barely. But the man was faster. He didn't even wait for Joshua to say if he needed help. Murmuring a hasty "Thanks" Joshua pushed his cart away. Oddly bemused by the interaction. He felt oddly underestimated. As if the very thought he might be fine on his own was wrong to others. Just because he looked like a woman. Or maybe they just jumped at the opportunity in the hopes of a reward? That wasn't much better in Joshua's opinion. Still, deep down, part of him liked it. The attention and the fact that someone got out of their way to do something for him.
Despite this one occurrence, shopping itself was a drag. His and Twilla's pantry really had been run dry. There was plenty in need of stocking up. In turn, his cart filled up fast. Only when Joshua reached the cashier, he started to suspect he had a problem. Plastic bag after plastic bag was filled with goods. None of them were really big. In the end, Joshua stood a little lost with over a dozen of the darn things and wondered how to get them home.
"May I offer you help to get these to your car?"
Joshua turned to find the same young man before him that had first mistaken him for a woman weeks prior. Now, he looked quite eager to help Joshua out again.
"I don't have a car," Joshua admitted eventually. Blushing slightly in embarrassment. "It's okay. One way or another I'll get these home."
"It's not that far away, I hope?"
"Just three blocks," Joshua replied and immediately wondered why he volunteered all these pieces of information.
"Have you heard of our new delivery service? For large purchases like these, it would be ideal." He beamed at Joshua, who wondered what good that information would be. If he had known before, it would be a different matter. But the clerk wasn't finished. "If it is just three blocks, I could give you a lift. As a freebie, so to speak. If anyone asks, it would be to advertise our new service."
Joshua's first instinct was to refuse. He didn't need help from some horndog shopping clerk. Then again, how was he supposed to get all these bags home? Haul them in stages? A few meters at a time. Or borrow a shopping cart and rattle it down the street like some maniac?
"Thanks." Joshua tried to give a coy smile. Not too much. He didn't want to give the wrong impression. "I would appreciate it."
Another beaming smile and he picked up most of Joshua's bags. "Follow me, Miss."
They went outside and the clerk went straight for a car with the colors of the supermarket. The trunk was filled and Joshua got to sit down on the passenger seat.
"I'm Anthony by the way," he introduced himself to Joshua just as they pulled out of the parking lot.
Joshua didn't really want to know what the A in "A. Blackburn" stood on Anthony's name tag. But since he was getting a lift, he might as well play nice. "Jessica. Friends call me Jessie."
"A pleasure meeting you Jessie," Anthony said with another damned beaming smile. "Oh, sorry. May I call you Jessie?"
"Sure." Soon or later, Joshua would return to his normal self again, and then he could ditch the Jessie slash Jessica persona altogether. Right now, he looked forward to it.
The drive wasn't long and together, the many bags were easily heaved up the few flights of stairs to Joshua's shared apartment. Now, his ordeal was over. Or so he thought.
"This is a flier for our new service," Anthony said while producing one from somewhere like a stage magician. However, instead of handing it over, he scrawled a number on it. "And my number. Just in case you have any personal questions about the service."
"Thanks." Joshua gave a weak smile. Had he misheard or had the word 'personal' slightly overemphasized? "I'll be sure to call. If I need more groceries."
"Goodbye, Jessie."
And then, he was gone, and Joshua collapsed against the door. This had been an adventure. One that was oddly illuminating and exciting in some ways. One thing was for sure, Joshua had a lot to learn about being a woman. And if Twilla didn't hurry up, he would be forced to learn to.
Worried, Joshua looked into the mirror. This was getting out of hand. Literally. Once, he had been able to hide his breasts by just slightly cupping them with his hands. But they continued to grow. They started to peek out. Then Joshua was only able to hold and cover two-thirds of them. Now, if he cupped them, he couldn't even cover his own nipples. And that was after one month of Twilla's absence. Potentially there was another month ahead of him. Twilla really needed to hurry up and get home.
"At least, I don't need a push-up bra anymore to show some cleavage." Now he had plenty. In fact, if this was going on, he might need to look for ways to minimize or downplay his endowment.
Shaking his head, Joshua grabbed for the delivery box. It had been silly to order it. An unnecessary purchase. And soon, it wouldn't fit anymore anyway. Opening it up, Joshua mused that he spent a little too much time watching influencers for makeup and dress-up tips. They all gushed about this new intimate collection by the rapper Lil Lyn. Now, Joshua could find out if the hype was warranted.
The bra revealed certainly looked high quality. A little elongated, but not quite long enough to count as a bustier. The material used was soft and quite nice to feel. Of course, the big draw was the stitching that closely mimicked tattoo art. Rumor was that a few of the designs were actually copied off of Lil Lyn's own tattoos.
The bra itself was pretty comfortable once Joshua slipped it on. He was by no means an expert yet on female underwear, but this bra got his seal of approval. The cups were maybe a little too big for him. Nothing the growths of a few days couldn't fix.
The ringing of the doorbell interrupted Joshua's thoughts. "Coming!" he yelled before hastily slipping into a blouse. It was too early for another grocery delivery. That was scheduled for the day after tomorrow. Probably one of Twilla's clients again. In the past few weeks, some of Twilla's customers had come by. Worried by the lack of communication. By now, Joshua had experienced letting them down gently. Stating that Twilla had some legal trouble and would be away for a while. That everything would be okay once she got back. That the Central Witch Council had confiscated all breasts was a fact that Joshua wisely kept to himself.
Opening the door, Joshua was ready to give his usual spiel. But the woman standing there didn't really look like she needed Twilla's help. She had a full bosom. Unlike those who had given Twilla their breasts for growing. Those had been flat as a board.
"Can I help you?"
The woman gave him a cheeky grin. "Joshua, right? Sorry, I guess you go by Jessica now. Or Jessie. Don't worry. I am here to help. My name is Colette. A friend of Twilla's."
"Oh, thank God," slipped past Joshua's lips. "Can you get rid of these?"
"Your breasts?" Colette looked apoplectic. "I am afraid it won't be that easy. Might I explain? Inside?"
Joshua hesitated. This Colette did appear a little suspect to him. Twilla had never mentioned her. But what choice did he have? He was growing increasingly worried. In fact, it closely followed the growth of the assets on his chest.
"Sure," Joshua relented. "Come in."
A little while later, they sat both in Twilla's reading parlor. Sipping on tea. Joshua took the opportunity to study Colette. She was a woman who didn't stand out much. Blond hair with tiny curls that were cut into a page style and reached to her neck. Blue eyes and a sprinkle of freckles on her nose and cheeks. The rest was average. Nothing out to him especially. It was as if Colette represented a median estimate of all Caucasian women aged twenty-five to thirty-five.
"So, how do you know Twilla."
"Oh, you know. Old friends." Collette took a deliberate sip of her tea. "Studied magic together. Were apprentices under the same tutors."
"So, you are a witch," Joshua confirmed. "But you can't help me with my little problem."
"Sorry, I am afraid not." She did not sound sorry to Joshua. "When I gave Twilla the spell I hadn't time to study it myself. It was a rather complex spell and would have taken ages to copy. In all honesty, I was surprised Twilla managed to learn it at all. She was never the best at complex spells like these."
"I bet the physical copy of the spell was taken in the raid too," Joshua mused aloud. Then fixed Colette with his gaze. "So, she got the spell from you. Why? It is rather unusual, I take it. Not something a normal witch would study."
"Yes. Yes, it is. You see, Twilla had fallen on hard times. Again. She always had been a troublemaker. At least for the higher-ups of witch society. Twilla isn't the greatest witch. Her magical potential is barely enough to grant her that status. But what she got, she was pretty creative with. She always could find an unusual application of magic and find customers who would pay for it." Colette gave a shrug. "Usually mundane ones. That's what put her on the shit list of the higher-ups time and time again. We witches aren't supposed to let mundanes know that magic exists. But yeah, if anyone could make money from a spell like that, it would be Twilla."
Joshua was annoyed. Not really with Colette, but with the overall situation. "So, long story short, you can't help me. Only Twilla can. And it is up in the air when she will be back out of Xing Xing or whatever you witches use as a prison."
"I wouldn't say I am completely useless." With a smirk and a flourish, Colette withdrew a manila envelope from behind her back. Where she had hidden it before, Joshua couldn't tell. The answer was probably magic. She handed it over. "I took the liberty to prepare something."
Now intrigued, Joshua opened it up. The two bundles of cash - looked like five grand each - were a welcome sight, but not what really caught his attention. He fished out a social ID, driving license, and a passport. All in the name of Jessica Whitecreek. They even had a picture of his feminized self on them.
"How did you-"
"Scrying spell plus a simulacrum," Colete cut him off. Then stood up. "Not that complicated. Listen. I wish I could stay and chat, but I am afraid I have to leave. The Central Witch Council may lock up Twilla for a month or two now and then, but my beef with them runs a bit deeper. If they get their hands on me, I am afraid I would never see the stars of the night sky again."
"Thank you." Joshua even offered his hand. Colette wasn't the solution to his problem, but she had been helpful after all.
They shook and then Colette had her way out of the apartment. Only once she was out of the building, Joshua developed a few doubts. Just how exactly did Colette know he was going by Jessie or Jessica? Or that he once mentioned to Mister Casiraghi that he, as Jessie, was Twilla's niece.
Doubt returned, but for now, Joshua could do nothing about it.
Joshua awoke after another restless night. The sun was up and he doubted he could fall asleep again. Another day beckoned with the faint hope that Twilla would finally show up. By now, Joshua was more than a bit peeved. One or two months his ass. It's been four.
Grabbing his massive tits, he heaved himself - and them - up. Another summer night meant another sweaty mess. It had been fine when he had sported a D-Cup. Or even F-Cup. Now, he didn't even want to know what cup size he was. Or if the charts even went up that high. At least, he wasn't as big as that Twilla on that fateful day she pulled him into her secret. By now, he started to regret ever agreeing to this madness. Soon, he would be bigger. And one day, he might not even be able to get up anymore. Weighted down by his own breasts.
Getting to the bathroom was an exercise in frequent breaks and finding furniture to misuse as pedestals for his breasts. Eventually arriving, Joshua stripped out of his PJs. The pants of them at least. The top didn't fit anymore in the first place. Using the toilet was another painful reminder that his body was changing. Joshua hadn't noticed it at first, but now it was plain to see. His member couldn't even be called Little Joshua anymore. More like minuscule Joshua. But there were other changes. After four months, his body hair should have returned. Yet he was still baby smooth.
Cleaning up, Joshua heaved his chestal anchors over to the sink. "Good morning, Jessica," he greeted his reflection. By now, he could hardly see his old self anymore. More critical extermination revealed that it was time to trim his eyebrows again. He could swear their growth was still accelerated. Every two weeks, he had to trim them down because they started to get bushy. By now, he had become an expert in shaping them. A do-it-yourself haircut would be on his agenda soon too. Once again, it was encroaching on his butt area.
Grabbing a washcloth, Joshua started to clean up his sweater monster-puppies. It would give him an hour or two of relief from excessive boob sweat. The hardest part to reach was the crease under each breast. The transition between tit flesh and ribcage.
"Did I get crumbs stuck in the fold?" Joshua tried to lift his right tit with one arm and dug into the crease with his other hand.
Joshua nearly lost his balance as a huge shift occurred. Confused, he looked down at his right breast. He held it. In his arms. Detached from his chest. Astonished, he let the fleshy mass fall into the sink. He barely registered that it fused to the porcelain. Making the sink nearly unusable.
He had tried before. In the first few weeks after Twilla's incarceration. Then given up. But now, he was free of one of them. Would it work with the other too? He had to try.
With the same ease as the first one, the tit came off. Joshua let it fall and it landed on the other. Fusing to it weirdly. Tit on tit. Like some abstract art. Joshua didn't care!
"I am free!" he shouted again and again. Running naked through the apartment. Enjoying how light he felt. Unencumbered after months of being dragged down. Jumping up and down. Whooping and hollering, until a neighbor knocked on the floor from below with a broomstick.
Only then, he calmed down. Still kind of in shock, Joshua returned to the bathroom. Staring at the altered sink. Maybe now, his body would return to normal. He sure hoped so. For the sake of his dick.
But now what? Buy a new sink? Maybe. Provided he couldn't get those breasts unfused from the porcelain too. Joshua tried and the top breast came off without a hitch. Placing it nipple down prevented another fusion accident. The second came off just as easy. Now, Joshua had to find a place for them.
Grinning, he grabbed the first one and heaved it back to his bedroom. It landed heavily on his pillow. Then turned to fabric and stuffing before his eyes. A quick trip later, he had a bosom pillow again. Though this time, the bosom was a tad bigger.
"Sleeping on that, I might be smothered in my sleep," he mused aloud.
A week later, Joshua stared at the same mammoth tits. Once again detached from his pillow. Just looking at them filled him with dread. He just had gotten rid of them and now he was about to reattach them.
"Stupid lies," Joshua murmured. It was time, and he knew it. Soon, his weekly grocery delivery would arrive. Probably brought by Anthony again. And he would expect a Jessie at the door with massive tits. Why? Because he had to tell a stupid lie to explain his ever-growing breasts. The hormone imbalance story wasn't that far off. His body looked like he had been on hormone replacement therapy for a year now. The chronic illness that caused continuous breast growth sounded like a good idea at the time. Now, he had to keep the lie going.
"Just for an hour," Joshua promised himself. He could ditch them as soon as the delivery was done.
Picking up one, Joshua could swear it grew heavier. Despite knowing that they were exactly the same since last week. Lining it up, Joshua pressed the massive tit against his chest and-
Nothing happened. Confused, he tried a few more times. Maybe the alignment was off. When nothing helped, Joshua tried the other one. The result didn't change. Joshua was still bosomless. He scratched his head. Something must have changed. Maybe without him, the enchantment had disappeared? Yet fusing to everywhere else still worked. Just not on his chest.
Looking down, his chest appeared ready. His original small nipples and the rest were flat as a board. Nearly. Joshua frowned. His chest actually reminded him of the time Twilla first attached one of those underdeveloped breasts to him. Just a little bit of flap. Barely noticeable.
But that couldn't be it, right? Hesitant, Joshua placed his fingers at the lower end of the slightly cushioned area. Then he peeled. His eyes grew wide as it worked. First, he removed a breast from his right side. Maybe the mass of a sunny-side-up egg. The left followed.
"I am growing new breasts?"
For a moment, Joshua was excited. He had to admit, part of him liked having breasts. Before they became monstrous abnormalities. The prospect of maybe growing a decent size - just for old times' sake - was surprisingly appealing. But then his mind caught up.
He could forget about ever returning to be Joshua and might as well accept being Jessica for the rest of his life. If his body grew more feminine as long as he grew breasts and every pair of breasts immediately gave way for the next pair, then it would never stop. Much less reverse.
It wasn't the end of the world, Joshua knew. In the past months, he had gotten used to being Jessie. Finding more and more aspects of being a woman that he liked. Realizing it probably wouldn't be reversible - at least, without the help of Twilla - had some finality to it. Maybe now he was forced to make a cut. Let being Joshua go.
She decided. No more Joshua. She was Jessica now and forever. Because deep down, she might not have turned back when Twilla showed up on their doorstep right this moment.
Of course, Jessie wasn't done here. Anthony was still on his way to deliver some groceries for her. It meant, she had to fuse those giant globes of mammary flesh to her after all. Her new budding breasts found a temporary home on her hallway mirror. Giving the reflection a strange dented-out look. Then, the moment of truth was upon her. Once again, Jessica lifted a breast up and held it to her chest. This time, it fused just fine. The second followed a moment later.
"I did not miss this in the least," Jessie hissed between gritted teeth. Hopefully, Anthony would hurry up, so that she could get rid of these monsters once again. Or else, her back might be killer this evening.
Jessie was nervous. Applying the finishing touches of makeup once again. She had done so three times already and then changed her mind. Now, she stood back and admired her reflection. Her outfit was made for flirting, but not so much that it slid into the area of being slutty. Perfect. Just what she needed for this evening. She was ready for her date.
Stepping back, she glanced at her clock. Jessie groaned as she saw that there was still an hour left. In her eagerness to be on time, she had started early. Lately, the more she got into make-up and fashion, her dress-up sessions lengthened.
The ringing of the doorbell brought a smile to her face. It looked like she wasn't the only one looking forward to the date and was a little overeager. With a skip to her step, she hurried to the door. Only to stop and smooth out her skirt. She wanted to look perfect for Anthony.
Opening up, her flirty smile and prepared teasing monologue slipped Jessica's mind. "Colette?"
The witch looked her up and down. "Do I come at an inopportune time?"
"A little," Jessie admitted, but then waved the witch in. "I've got an hour."
"I won't be staying that long," Colete remarked while making her way to the reading parlor.
Jessica knew that to be true. Colette never stayed long. In the nearly two years she knew the witch, Colette had never stayed longer than half an hour. It was a rare occasion too. Every two to three months. She wouldn't count Colette as a friend, but as an acquaintance on friendly terms. With her, Jessie could speak openly. The only person to do so.
"I see you redecorated further," Colette remarked as Jessie joined her with a tray of iced tea and glasses.
Jessica looked around. She didn't read as much as Twilla and what else was she to do? The original breast library was full of her newly grown and detached breasts. Hence, she needed a new place to store them. She had thought the reading parlor had plenty of empty shelf space. Now, she started to realize she was wrong. Over half of the shelves were already full of bosoms.
"I've got no choice," Jessica admitted. A little annoyance crept into her voice. "They keep growing faster. I am up to four hundred fifty grams a day. Each, Colette. Each."
One of Colette's earliest suggestions had been to weigh her breasts each day. To find out how fast they grew. That was surprisingly easy if one could peel their breasts off. At first, their growth only had been about two dozen grams. That was one and a half years ago.
"That's why I tell you to sell more of them," Colette reminded her once again. "Or you might drown in breasts in here."
Jessie frowned. Sure enough, she had taken over Twilla's business. Plenty of former customers had reached out in time and now, Jessica was slowly working her way down the list.
"I already find two in a month risky." Jessica was not happy with the topic. It always led to debates between the two of them. "Again. I am trying to stay under the radar of the CWC. Not making the mistakes Twilla did. I don't want to be hauled off by witches showing up on my doorstep."
"Have you heard of Twilla?" As Jessica shook her head, Colette doubled down. "That's why I urge you to diversify. Spread out your market. Go globally. Just ship them off and rake the money in."
She could use the money. Jessica had taken over the apartment and having such a big place all by herself wasn't cheap either. The few pairs of bosoms made her barely break even. She liked selling large bosoms. For those, she could demand more money and actually bank a little. Of course, Jessica had dismissed going globally before.
"I told you, one misaligned breast and a customer would make up a stink. I could peel it off. Twilla could. No one else. And if the customer is in another country I'd never be able to afford to give customer service."
Colette rolled her eyes. Clearly not agreeing. "One way or another, you need to get rid of them."
Now, it was Jessica's time to shine. "Would you like a slice of melon?" Before Collette could answer, Jessica stood up and walked out of the room. Just to return with a melon on a plate. "It's honeydew melon. Surprisingly light green for a melon, right? Very sweet, but kind of small."
Jessica held up her finger to indicate she wasn't finished. Going over to a shelf, she selected one of the larger bosoms. On her frame, it would amount to a D-Cup in size. Peeling them off, the breasts returned from a wooden state to a normal fleshy and squishy form. Not for long, as Jessica used both to fuse them to the honeydew melon. Then slicing into it with a large knife. Revealing that inside, there now was even more flesh of the fruit.
"Tadaa!" She exclaimed. "Getting rid of excess breasts one bite at a time. And it saves on the grocery bill. Slice?"
Colette didn't answer. Thoughtful, she looked at the bisected fruit. "Are you sure that is safe? How long have you been doing that? Maybe that's why you are growing faster and faster. Digesting the same spell over and over."
For a moment, Jessica looked worried. Then visibly relaxed. "Nah. I've been doing this for only the last half year. It wouldn't explain why the growth accelerated. Besides, I think once the form is destroyed, the magic goes away"
Instead of going for a slice, Colette took one of the halves. Looking it critically over. "You are right. Can't feel a trace of magic anymore." She suddenly stood up and walked over to one of the shelves. "Interesting. These lack magic too. Jessica, are you up for an experiment?"
Jessica shrugged. "If it doesn't take too long, sure."
Collette came back to the table and replaced the half of the melon. Then pressed them together so they appeared whole again. "Try peeling it off."
"That won't work," Jessica pointed out. "You said it yourself. The magic is gone."
Colette just looked at her. Waiting. With a sigh, Jessica tried. To her surprise, the breast came off the melon. Despite being sliced through before, it was now whole again.
"Knew it," Colette exclaimed. "It might be gone from the breasts, but not from you, girl. I wonder if your gift works on breasts that have never been flesh before."
Jessica shrugged. Sitting back down. Colette did the same but suddenly sported a cat-like grin. "Enough with that magic stuff. Why do you look ready for a night out in town?"
Jessie blushed. "Maybe because I have a date?"
"Uh. With that grocer guy? What was his name? Anton?"
"Anthony," Jessica corrected. "And, yes. It will be our first date."
"Good for you. But doesn't he expect a little bit more on top?"
"I told him I had them surgically removed. Not ready yet to tell all that magic stuff. He thinks I am wearing prosthetic inserts now."
"I bet." Colette leaned a bit forward. "Say, how far do you want to go. Does Anthony know about your- You know."
Jessica frowned. "About what?"
"Between your legs," Colete whispered as if they could be overheard.
"What? Oh!" Now Jessica understood her. "Didn't I tell you? I could swear I did."
"Tell me what?"
"Shrank. Shrank. Shrank. Gone! Kept going, through. Deeper. Deeper. And tada! I am a complete woman. I could swear I told you. Seriously, haven't I complained to you about having periods now? Really thought I did. It's been a year now."
"No, you didn't." Colette sounded a bit miffed. Then brightened up. "Congrats. Come here. Give a sister a hug. A whole year? Kinda surprising. That wasn't part of the spell I gave Twilla."
Jessica shrugged. "Yeah, just keep magic away from me. I still don't have a single hair on my body except for my head of hair and eyebrows. Because of one time using enchanted body wash. And speaking of- My hair growth is still accelerated too. Just not as drastic as the first night. Else, you might want to call me Rapunzel."
"Just be glad you ain't living in a tower," Colette started. "Else your delivery boy lover might skip you on his route."
Jessica took the joke in stride. Even beamed. "Actually, he got promoted to assistant manager."
"Well, congratulations to him," Colette said without missing a beat. "I better get going. You can go to your Romeo and gift yourself as a gift for his promotion."
"Collete!" Despite her outburst - and slight blush - Jessica gave her a hug. "Don't be a stranger."
"I'll try," the witch promised as she slipped out of the door.
The same day a few hours later, Jessica was practically dancing through the park. She had a fantastic date and later a romantic walk through the same park she was walking through home now. Anthony had been a gentleman and understood that even after walking him home, Jessica was reluctant to stay over. It was their first date after all.
Of course, there was another reason Jessica bailed on Anthony. She still hadn't told him about her magic gift. Even though it felt sometimes like a curse. When she had headed out, Jessica had worn a slightly oversized bra. By now, her breasts had grown enough to be pinched by the same garment.
She stopped in front of a bronze statue and tried to adjust her bosom a little. Of course, it was in vain. Slightly peeved, she let out her anger on the statue."What are you looking at? Jealous with your bee bites of breasts. Wishing you had the real deal?"
Giggling, Jessie was ready to move on, when a different idea struck. Colette had suggested she try removing a breast that had never been flesh before. Now was the perfect opportunity.
Making first sure she was alone, Jessica climbed onto the statue's pedestal. The statue itself was made out of bronze and Jessica could see that she wasn't the first to visit. The statue's breasts were discolored from the many hands that touched them. They lay bare and were probably this tiny to not cause a ruckus with conservatives.
Giggling to herself, Jessica got to work. At first, nothing happened. But after about five seconds, they slowly turned to flesh and started to peel away. Triumphant, Jessie held her bounty high.
"Got yours," she teased the statue. "Oh, all sad now? Here, hold these."
Jessica peeled off her own breasts and deftly placed them on the statue. Having gained a bosom one could be proud of, the statue now looked quite naughty. She wondered what reaction visitors of the park would have, once her alteration was found out. Not that she would stick around to find out.
Still having the former breasts of the statue, Jessie placed them on herself. They fused just fine but didn't even fill half of her bra's cups.
"Thanks for the trade," Jessica shouted while waving at the statue. Then walked home with a lighter step.
Jessie clutched the roll of bills in her hand. Hidden in her jacket's pocket. All the way from her client to her apartment. Another successful sale. She wondered what she would get to celebrate it.
Sure, a part of it she had to set aside for rent. Jessica was still angry at her landlord. But every time she met Mister Casiraghi a burst of glee flooded her. He had no idea that she used to be Joshua. Still living right under his nose.
Letting herself into the apartment, Jessica shrugged out of her jacket. Maybe a new outfit was in order. The next weekend, she had her third date with Anthony. She hoped it would run smoothly, as she planned to tell him her big secret. And maybe, if Anthony was understanding enough, she might go a step further in their relationship.
"Tea, Miss Whitecreek?"
Jessica froze. Had she just misheard? Slowly turning around, her fear was confirmed. Sitting in a chair in the reading parlor was a witch. Black suit, white shirt, and black fedora. A blue tie was the only spot of color on the witch.
Should she run? Who knows what a witch can do. Right now, Jessie was ready to do everything to avoid another enchantment on her. They tended to stick around.
"I guess I messed up?" Jessica asked as she stepped into the room.
"My name is agent Dristle. Please have a seat, Miss Whitecreek."
Swallowing hard, Jessica moved to do so.
"Joshua?"
That voice. Jessica turned around. Twilla? She flung herself in her friend's arms. Crying tears of joy. "It's Jessica now," she said after finally letting go.
"I see. Look at you," Twilla shifted her hug to holding Jessica at arm's length. "You look gorgeous."
"And you look-" Only now, Jessica noticed her friend's wardrobe. Black suit, white shirt, and black fedora. Rounded off by a blue tie.
"Yeah, I- " Twilla shifted uncomfortably. Clearly embarrassed. "It's a long story."
"You joined the CWC?" Anger welled within Jessie. "You could have come by at any time?"
"I stayed away to protect you. If-"
Jessica slapped her. Not even holding back. "I waited for you. Hoping every day you would come home. I kept growing, Twilla. Four months in they were bigger than beach balls! If I hadn't learned how to peel them off, I might have died from them. Squished to death in an apartment I couldn't escape from."
"I am sorry." Twilla fell to her knees. Hugging Jessica's legs. "I hadn't known. I thought you would be fine. That you would stop growing at the designated limiter."
As quick as her anger came, it fell away as Jessica saw her friend begging. She too got down and hugged her friend dearly. Just glad that they finally were reunited.
"Perhaps now is a good time to sit down?" Dristle suggested. Clearly unperturbed by the emotional display before her. "Perhaps if you allow me to explain, things will look better."
Jessica swept away her tears. "I am not in trouble?"
"In trouble? Quite," agent Dristle admitted. "But less so, now that we are here. Now, again, how about we sit together and enjoy a cup of tea?"
A choked-up laugh escaped Jessica. She then stood up and helped Twilla onto her legs too. Both looked worse for wear but took a seat anyway.
"Now, it may look like a betrail to you," Dristle opened after taking a sip of tea. "But Twilla, your adoptive aunt, was quite helpful in tracking down a wanted criminal. Well, at least the breadcrumb trail. You see, there is a witch out there, Miss Whitecreek. One that targets individuals with magical potential too low to awaken as a witch - such as you - or witches that barely managed to do so. Like Twilla."
"She's nasty," Twilla insisted. "She puts dangerous spells into unwitting hands. We think people like you are her target. The spells she gives- Witches learn to control how much enchantments interact with them. Create a boundary. And in addition, all spells are created to prevent the accidental intermingling of enchantment and individuals. Those that she hands out, are not just missing this safety feature, it promotes the fusing."
"Wait a moment." Jessica leaned forward. "The spell you used on me. You're talking about Colette."
Both witches looked shocked and glanced at each other. It was agent Dristle who spoke up first. "How do you know about Colette?"
"She comes by now and then. Just last week, she sat in this chair. Every few months she checks in on me and-" Jessica stopped. First by shock. Then anger welled within her again. "To check on my progress. I was her guinea pig! All her questions. She was interrogating me. Concern my ass. I was nothing more than a test subject."
"That is troublesome," Dristle admitted. "We may need to ask you further questions if you don't mind."
"Sure. Everything to help." Jessica leaned back. Now feeling a bit drained. "What happens now?"
"Well, your little side hustle has to end." Agent Dristle sounded adamant about it. "We can help financially. That should be of no concern."
"We can help with your new ability," Twilla added. "I am afraid it has been too long a part of you to remove it. Or reverse its side effects."
"That's okay." Jessica gave a sheepish grin. "I kinda made my peace with it. I love it, actually."
"I am glad to hear it." Twilla reached out and took Jessica's hand. "But I promise, now that I know, I will help. We can't remove it, but maybe I can teach you to better control it. You might not be a witch, but magic is a part of you now. You should be in charge of it."
"Okay. Yeah. That's good to hear," Jessica admitted. "But that's not what I meant. What happens now in regards to Colette."
Dristle took another sip of tea before answering. "That is of no concern to you any-"
"Fuck that!"
"Jessica!"
"No, Twilla. I want to be part of it." Jessica slammed her hand on the table. Spilling some of the tea. Just to underline her point. "I was wronged and I am the victim here. You want to take her down? I'm in. And we all know you need me."
Dristle raised an eyebrow. "How so?"
"As I said, Colette comes by." Jessica couldn't help it and let smugness color her voice. "I'll be your bait and trap in one. Just let me keep this apartment and keep some distance. Soon or later, Colette will come by again. And then, I'll hand her to you on a silver platter." Maybe with a few additional breasts in odd places, but that sentiment Jessica didn't voice aloud.
Dristle drummed a few times on the table. Clearly thinking. Then offered her hand for shaking. "I am open to the idea. Granted, the higher-ups have to sign this off. But for now, welcome to the team."
Jessica shook on it. Grinning all the way. Now, everything looked up. There was just one last question burning in her mind. "I have to ask. If Twilla kept her distance on purpose, what did I do that gave me away?"
Twilla laughed out loud, but agent Dristle kept her cool. Simply sliding her hand into her jacket and withdrawing a smartphone. A few taps and she showed Jessica the screen. A video was played. It was the view of a security camera. Catching a slightly drunk Jessica switch breasts with a bronze statue.
Twilla slapped her playfully on the shoulder. "Well - niece - you better learn to be more discreet if you wanna play spy for us.
Jessica groaned. Somehow she had known that act of naughtiness would come to haunt her later. Still, things looked up. She got a boyfriend. Twilla was back in her life. She couldn't wait to get Colette between her finger and maybe some light revenge torture with tits. All in all, it was a lot. Or - as she remembered how to shorten it - tits a lot. Yet, she was looking forward to it.
The end.