So, I've recently had a short story published by Haven BookWorks as part of a fundraiser for the good people over at Rachel's Haven, which is quite exciting. Trial Run is a hopefully very sexy story of magic, submission and romance.
For anyone who may be worried about it, don't be concerned, this is a one off and I still plan to make all or at least most of my stories available free of charge.
Anyway, to celebrate I thought I'd do another caption, so here it is.
SubS TG Captions Stories and Games
Wednesday, 29 January 2014
Friday, 23 August 2013
A perfect match
I'm aware I haven't done any captions for a while as I've been concentrating on the stories. For fans of the shorter form, here is a little picture caption, though it is still two panels. I never was skilled at getting to the point.
Sunday, 11 August 2013
Normal (again)
OK, so for some reason my last post seems not to have been picked up by search engines and listing sites and being the attention junky that I am I just couldn't let it lie.
So, I'm re-posting this story, but this time as a link to 4shared as that approach worked for other stories before. Now you can either download the pdf from 4shared or read the story in the blog post below this one.
http://www.4shared.com/office/3KB8z0Wn/Normal.html
So, I'm re-posting this story, but this time as a link to 4shared as that approach worked for other stories before. Now you can either download the pdf from 4shared or read the story in the blog post below this one.
http://www.4shared.com/office/3KB8z0Wn/Normal.html
Saturday, 10 August 2013
Normal
Hi there once again.
Another new story for you. This one is called Normal. I wrote it at the same time as Conveyor Belt and they are two sides to the same experiment, thought the stories are not connected in any way. Conveyor Belt was an attempt at a story with no narrator, to create immediacy. Normal on the other hand has a very present narrator who speaks to the reader directly.
I guess I'm trying to find what style works for me. Would love to hear your comments.
Another new story for you. This one is called Normal. I wrote it at the same time as Conveyor Belt and they are two sides to the same experiment, thought the stories are not connected in any way. Conveyor Belt was an attempt at a story with no narrator, to create immediacy. Normal on the other hand has a very present narrator who speaks to the reader directly.
I guess I'm trying to find what style works for me. Would love to hear your comments.
As for the story, one
note of caution. If you're either waiting for, or avoiding sexual
content, there isn't any description of direct sexual acts until the
end of the story, but when it gets there it's a fairly extended and
explicit passage.
Hope you like it.
Normal
Today I'd like to tell
you the story of Mr Albert Hale. I say THE STORY of Mr Hale, rather
than A STORY, because, up until the day on which the events described
in this little tale took place, there really were precious few
stories to tell in the life of poor Albert. Of course, there were
plenty of adventures to come after the story related to you here, but
then after the day in question, he wasn't really Albert any more....
Albert Jeremiah Hale
was a tax inspector. In all honesty, he was probably always destined
to be a tax inspector. From an early age his father had instilled in
his son a familiarity with numbers together with a respect for
authority and the status quo. When the boy wanted to play; to run and
jump, his father always found new mathematical puzzles to be solved
or explained previously unconsidered risks that meant that this or
that activity was dangerous or not appropriate for a well brought up
young man.
As is the way of
things, eventually the voice of Albert's father's took up residence
inside the youngsters own head. Complying with rules and regulations
became something of a hallmark of his childhood. Albert liked to
ensure that things were exactly as they should be, leaving no space
for surprise or worry. He even invented his own boundaries where none
existed, or where those that did exist weren't strict enough to make
him feel safe. Even in a primary school with a relaxed dress code, he
still preferred to go in every day wearing a clean crisp shirt, and
when he moved up to secondary school he was always the first to tell
teachers (who frankly would rather not have known) if a fellow pupil
left the school premises during a study break without authorisation
or sneaked a cigarette round the back of the building.
Later on, when he
entered the world of work, Albert's attitude meant that, while he was
often valued by his superiors, he was rarely liked by his colleagues.
And even those line managers who valued Albert were still likely to
take advantage, knowing that Albert would never question their
authority. Indeed, it rarely even occurred to Albert to do so, even
if he did sometimes wish for more enjoyable assignments.
On the day that we take
a peek into the life of our hero, Albert was experiencing one of the
more probing examinations of his talent for decorum and respect for
his superiors. You see, the head of Albert's department had a very
particular job to delegate, one that she was aware might be
mishandled in the wrong hands.
Jacked magazine was a
so-called “lads mag” soft pornography publication. Preliminary
assessment of their tax return warranted some additional
investigation and the head of department had the job of assigning the
appropriate inspector to attend the magazine's offices in order to
check all of their records. The two available members of staff were
the afore-mentioned Mr Hale, and an inspector of roughly equal
experience, named Dave Pollock.
The choice was an easy
one. Although Albert and Dave were both socially awkward souls, their
discomfort with human relations manifested in quite opposite ways.
While Albert simply remained quiet and fastidiously lived inside the
rules, Dave was one of those people who felt the unfortunate need to
try to demonstrate their worldliness, especially when it came to the
subject of women. Dave was the nod and a wink man; The source of
slightly inappropriate emails and lists ranking famous women's body
parts; The man that said things like “phwoar!” and “I'd give
her one”, all accompanied with a nervously wild smile and a flick
of his limp fringe of hair.
Dave's exuberances were
designed to demonstrate that he was a sexual being (Whether he was
trying to convince himself or others, no one was sure or particularly
cared), but it's primary effect was to highlight his lack of actual
relations, or indeed any kind of familiarity, with the fairer sex. As
you can imagine, Dave rubbed a number of people up the wrong way, no
one more so that Albert, who hated how he drew attention to matters
that should, in Albert's opinion, only be thought about, behind
closed doors, let alone spoken about. Not that Albert actually
allowed himself to consider such matters even in private. Sexual
experience was a thing altogether so far outside of his safe daily
routine, that it felt abhorrent to Albert even to think about it.
And so, with the choice
of a man who would make a scene, and one who assuredly would not, it
was almost predestined that it was to Albert that the task fell.
Unfortunately the assignment had not failed to escape the notice of
the rest of the office, and on the day of the site visit, Dave was
making the most of this gilt-edged opportunity to emphasise to the
world at large that he, Dave Pollock, was indeed a red-blooded
heterosexual male.
“Give em one for me
Bert!” he half-whispered to Albert, loud enough to be audible to
the four men and three women also attending the morning meeting. It
wasn't only Dave either. Sniggers were to be heard from several
points around the table as the week's assignments were discussed. The
thought of impeccably proper Albert amidst topless models was too
deliciously amusing for even the more emotionally mature members of
the team. Much as everyone disliked Dave, the way that he antagonised
Albert was something of a popular spectator sport in the office, and
being the attention craving man that he was, Dave was unfortunately
only egged on by the chortles which he didn't quite understand were
at least partially at his expense.
Albert slightly
disappointed his tormentors by giving no visible reaction whatsoever,
but inside he felt a little buzz. Whether it was righteous anger, or
rather illicit excitement, that he felt in response to this clear
stepping outside of the rules, and the implicit involvement of his
own person in such a situation, didn't even cross his mind. Whatever
it was, the emotion was improper, abnormal and was to be suppressed,
snuffed out.
Throughout the
morning's preparations Dave grinned and winked in his direction.
Albert's departure for Jacked was greeted by Dave with hollers of
encouragement and a request for Albert to take some pictures and send
them on to him. Albert rolled his eyes, sensing that Dave was
actually less jealous than he was making out and wondering whether
Dave was perhaps even relieved to not have his self-touted “way
with the ladies” put to the test.
------------------------
The offices of Jacked
magazine looked to Albert Hale much the same as any other offices he
visited. The concrete facade was familiar, as were the black
faux-leather sofas in the reception area. Even the man who came to
meet him to take him to the office where the financial records were
kept would have raised few eyebrows in any number of respectable
businesses. His shirt was a little bright perhaps, his hair a little
slick, but nothing of any particular note or consequence. Indeed
there really was nothing to cause the professional, unflappable Mr
Hale to treat the job as anything other than routine.
Right up till he
entered the financial records room.
As the door was opened
by his escort, Albert saw first a row of neat, ordered filing
cabinets, standard in shape and size, and just as would have been
expected.
Next he saw a sturdy,
reliable looking desk and chair, exactly as he would require to
complete the task assigned to him.
Finally, as the door
opened to its full extent, he saw a window. While his work often took
him to basements and other rooms with no windows, a window in itself
was the sort of mild architectural extravagance that Mr Hale felt was
an acceptable concession from optimal building efficiency in the
reasonable interests of normal human comfort.
It was what was visible
through the window that caused a lump of discomfort to form in our
hero's throat.
Albert realised with a
certain amount of surprise that the room looked out, not to the
outside, but rather onto a large photography studio. The studio was
blessed with high ceilings, reaching up to a double storey height
with a glass roof capable of letting in the natural light from above.
The office in which Mr Hale was to base himself for the duration of
his visit was located in the upper level of offices, and so it was
only when Albert moved close to the window that he could see below
him the figures in the studio.
He should have
recoiled. The principles instilled deeply within him should have
caused him to shake his head and search for blinds to close.
Instead he found
himself staring. The two women visible in the studios were quite the
most mesmerising sight that Albert had experienced in his thirty-some
years of life. And it was not their faces upon which his eyes
settled.
-----Please do take
note that whilst it is incumbent upon me, as the recorder of these
events, to relay to you the guilt and judgement that poor, inhibited
Mr Hale wreaked upon himself for his actions, I dare say that not one
of us would have been able to turn swiftly away from such a sight as
that which greeted his eyes from that window.-----
Finally, several
moments later than would have been required to keep his dignity
intact, Albert blinked hard and turned away. He looked in the
direction of his escort and managed to contort his mouth into a shape
that closely resembled a smile, signalling that he now wished to be
left alone in the office with his books of safe, trustworthy numbers.
Mr Hale managed to
concentrate on the columns and rows of numbers and shorthand for
maybe an hour or so, all the time fighting off the urge to edge up
again to the window and peer down into the studio below. He was then
interrupted by a sound emanating from his bag, indicating the receipt
of a message on his phone. Unable to leave the messy, uncertain state
of affairs of having a message unread on his phone, he stood up to
take the phone from his bag. Checking it, he was unhappy to find that
it was from his colleague Dave Pollock. He knew that it was probably
some crass comment, but there was always the possibility that it
might be work related and urgent, and the always responsible Mr Hale
was unable to countenance any possible derogation of duty.
“Hey Bert, how big do
their tits look in real life?! Send me a picture!”
“Ugh” whispered
Albert in disgust.
Nevertheless, Albert
did wonder. Where they actually as big and lovely as they had seemed
at his first glance? He had certainly rarely if ever seen such
impressive assets on any women he saw in the street. Now in a
standing position, he could almost see the activities in the studio
below. Slowly, ever so slowly, he inched closer and closer to the
window, stretching upwards to get a better view. Finally he saw them.
And then he couldn't
stop from keeping on seeing them.
It was a good few
minutes before he broke away and he quickly admonished himself for
his actions. But a vigorous shake of the head, a strong mug of
instant coffee and half an hour of work later, he was back at the
window again. When, just fifteen minutes after that, on yet another
visit to the window, he discovered the studio quite empty, the truth
of his voyeurism came home to him, and he returned to his work with a
rather large lump of guilt in his throat and a sinking feeling in his
heart at the failure of his much cherished self-discipline.
The books used a rather
complex and unorthodox method, and tax officer Hale had to
concentrate to make sense of it all. For the first time that he could
remember, Albert thought to himself that his work was actually rather
dull. Do not mistake me dear readers; Albert had felt
that his job was dull many many times before. Perhaps so often in
fact, that dullness had become his expected and accepted way of
being. The point for you to note is merely that this time, he
actually admitted it to himself. He admitted both that his work was
dull, and that this mattered. For perhaps the first time, he failed
to subconsciously fight back against this realisation by reference to
the importance or respectability of his work, nor did he defer to the
necessity of the secure, comfortable income that it procured for him.
His work was dull, and he wished that it wasn't.
It
was as this realisation was dawning upon Albert that his eyes, guided
by his hung-low head, happened to notice that the lower drawer of the
desk was slightly ajar, and, even more remarkably, that from within
the aforesaid drawer, came a surprising glint of light.
Now,
our good old Albert, respectable and trustworthy Mr Hale, was not
normally one to pry. So I'm sure that you can imagine that Albert was
just as surprised as you and I, that he reached inside that private
drawer and grasped the source of the illumination. Indeed he was so
taken aback by his own crossing of such a clear boundary, that for
several moments he simply sat, one hand gripped around whatever
object had attracted his attention, wondering whether he should
simply put it back where he found it without so much as opening up
his fingers to see what it was.
It
wasn't a thought of Albert's that caused his hand to open. It wasn't
a decision, emanating from the ordered mastery of his synapses.
Rather, it was pure feeling that instructed his fingers to relax
outward, apparently bypassing his conscious brain altogether. What he
saw, in the centre of his palm, was a large gold coin. It was
unmoving, and yet somehow it seemed to buzz with energy. As if there
was a halo around it that made reality fuzzy and hot in a way
imperceptible to traditional senses. The feeling of distortion was
only enhanced by the uneven edge of the generally circular coin.
Albert, who had a professional and personal interest in currency, old
and new, supposed that it must belong to some ancient civilisation.
He examined the markings on the coin, which appeared to be some kind
of letters or runes, but he could not place it's origin.
His musings on the
strange artifact were interrupted in a most rude fashion by the door
to the office swinging open, entirely without prior enquiry or
warning and the entrance into the room of a large very well-built man
wearing an even larger grin.
“Hey! Taxman, right?”
The words exploded into
the formerly silent room, seeming to exist instantaneously in every
corner, defying the logic that strongly suggested that they must have
emanated from the new entrant. It took more than a moment for Albert
to gather himself together to respond.
“erm....yes...well.....Mr
Albert Hale, tax inspection officer acting on behalf of Her Majesties
Revenue and Customs. I.... don't believe we've been introduced.”
“Bob Reynard. I own
the place. Nice, eh Taxman?” Mr Reynard nodded in the direction of
the window with a widening of his already rather extraordinary smile.
Albert grimaced momentarily, as if biting on a lemon.
“Very good to meet
you Mr Reynard.”
Albert couldn't help
but feel intimidated by this mountain of a man who towered over
Albert's, 5' 10'' frame.
The human grin
continued: “Please. Call me Bob. So, yeah, just wanted to pop my
head in and let you see my face. We're heading down to do another
shoot now, but if you need anything, you've got a telephone in here.”
The “we” that “Bob”
referred to was revealed to Albert, as Bob moved his substantial form
away from the door to allow line of sight between Albert and a quite
stunningly beautiful woman standing in the corridor, just the other
side of the doorway. She smiled and waved. Albert screwed up his face
once more conveying something between good-mannered acknowledgement
and guilt-ridden pain.
Albert's discomfort was
substantially increased by the fact that he recognised the girl in
the corridor as the owner of the rather remarkable pair of breasts
that had received his ogling attention from the window earlier that
morning.
“Hiya. I'm Sandy”
chirruped the source of the greatest pleasure and the greatest pain
that Albert could remember.
“Sandy here is our
star.” explained Bob “We're doing a feature on the hot up and
coming girls on the scene and Sandy here is doing a shoot with each
of them to introduce them to the public. Sandy's a firm favourite of
our readers.”
-----Here I must
briefly apologise for Mr Reynard's quite unconscionable use of the
term “readers” which I believe he meant in the most
extraordinarily loose sense, rather than its proper meaning of
actually discerning the meaning of the written word, such as you, my
valued readership, are doing now. I, as I am sure you can ascertain,
like to call a spade a spade, but I cannot speak for Mr
Reynard.------
No doubt the distaste
at such inaccurate use of the English language also affected the
sensibilities of Mr Hale, but surprisingly another stronger feeling
came to him in that moment and drowned it out. Mr Hale suddenly felt
a sense of loss. Loss of the many years of his life that had passed
since his adolesence without so much as a word exchanged with a woman
of Sandy's calibre. Loss of kisses and chases, loss of drunken
liaisons and even loss of awkward but thrilling first dates, all of
which he had missed out on. And most of all Albert became suddenly
aware of the loss of the opportunity right before him; a circumstance
in which he could potentially be in the extended presence of
undiluted sensuality and sexuality, but where such pleasures were
denied to him by his long-practised nature and the roll that he
occupied in life.
And with this emptiness
opening up in his heart, and the golden coin firmly locked in the
grip of his left hand, Albert Hale wished that he had a job which
meant that he could be down in the studio with the models and not
stuck up here amidst the financial records.
….
It took Albert a moment
to notice that time had stopped.
He was so caught up by
a flood of the regrets he had held back for so long, that it was a
few seconds before he realised that Sandy's hand was fixed in
position, half way through a cute little wave, and that Bob's jacket
hung in the air, frozen unnaturally in the middle of his turn towards
the door. He looked from Sandy, to Bob, and back to Sandy.
Finally he looked down
at himself. He twisted and turned, and seemed to move just as normal,
even while all else remained frozen. He felt a heat in his hand and
opened it. There he saw the coin, and most extraordinarily, he
noticed that the markings upon it were glowing. As he stared down at
the small roundel of precious metal, the heat and disturbance around
it (which he had earlier rationalised as being only in his mind)
clearly broke through into reality. The coin began to vibrate, slowly
at first, but soon faster and faster, until the glowing markings
caused lines of light to be imprinted on Albert's retina.
Soon the coin was a
blur. Albert could feel it moving in his palm, pulling his skin with
its movement. In shock, Albert jolted and turned his hand towards the
floor as if discovering a deadly spider crawling over him. But
instead of falling to the ground, the coin remained in place,
apparently now welded to his skin! Albert watched in horror as his
hand began to be dragged along with the vibrations of the coin. At
first the shaking appendage looked to Albert rather like it was
suffering from Parkinsons, but soon it became unnaturally fast and he
felt the knuckles of his fingers slapping together. Albert almost
screamed out, but he found that he couldn't: Not for any physical
reason, but rather because another feeling crashed against his fear.
In his mind there was enchantment to match his terror.
Albert looked closer,
bringing his hand up towards his face. He was aware now, even through
the blur, that his hand was changing, becoming smaller, and more
slender. He opened his eyes wider, seeking to take in as much sensory
information as possible in an effort to verify this extraordinary
turn of events. He was rewarded for his concentration with a clear
and undeniable sight of his normally fastidiously short fingernails
growing out by half an inch. He went to touch one with his other
hand, and gave a small yelp of pain as his still oscillating nail
made a small cut on the investigating finger. He turned over his hand
as the vibrations in his hand began to slow, and was just in time to
see bright sparkly pink decorative polish work its way over his new
longer nails.
Albert noticed that his
hand was now moving differently. It was still in motion but it was
slower, more languid. On closer inspection, he discovered that his
hand was now moving, not from its own energy, but because it was
attached to his arm, which was itself shaking at a furiously high
frequency. The movement was now beneath the sleeve of his shirt, and
so his view was obscured, but he could feel that it was no less
intense than the effect which had a moment ago beset his hand. With
panic growing in his chest he mobilised his one loyal hand and took a
grip of the afflicted forearm. He wanted to put a stop to it, but it
was no use. His fingers closed around his arm, finding it thinner and
less substantial than he remembered, but the energy was unabated.
Albert held on with all
his might, but it made no difference. He held on so hard that his
whole body began to shake. Finally, defeated, Albert removed his
hand, and was horrified to find that his hitherto unaffected arm and
hand now continued to vibrate, as if still gripped around the other.
With neither arm under his control Albert could only stand and watch
as his second hand followed the form of the first.
The movement continued
up his arms and across his shoulders. As always, Albert was wearing a
smart sober tie and buttoned up collar, and, as the vibrations
reached his neck, they suddenly transferred from his skin to his
clothing.
Now, a cotton and
polyester mix must be must easier to transform than flesh and blood,
because the wave of movement simply flashed across Albert's clothing,
moving from head to toe, and leaving Albert, mouth agog, and newly
slender arms held out to the side, standing in an office, wearing a
sky blue string-tied bikini and matching high heels.
At this, Albert finally
managed to produce an audible sound, but I am sure that the high
pitched squeek which emanated from his new, narrower neck was not
what he had been aiming for. It was borne out of embarrassment, but
Albert really needn't have worried. Bob and Sandy were still frozen
in place and, even though it seemed to Albert that their eyes were
focussed upon his hairy squat body, complete with comically slender
arms and neck, in reality they were quite uncomprehending of the
absurdity of his situation.
It felt like an
eternity to Albert, but of course this picture lasted only for a
moment. The changes moved quickly from his new strappy high-heeled
sandals, transferred back into his feet, and began moving back up his
body.
His calves buzzed and
then his thighs veritably wobbled as they changed. He could now
clearly see that his smooth, soft, hairless legs tapered from
luscious thickness to slim elegance as they reached in their curving
alluring way down to his dainty feet. Looking down he wiggled his
pink tipped toes and was surprised to see these foreign objects move
at his command. He could even feel the feathery touch of the bow
located on the lowermost strap of each shoe brushing against his skin
as he moved.
The vibrations slowed
as they reached the wider environs of his hips and bottom, like
rapids opening out into a deeper, wider section of a river. He found
his hips swirling in a wide orbit, causing his male genitalia,
hopelessly uncontained by his little blue thong, to flap around
uncontrollably. His penis, which to his dismay, was quite erect,
helicoptered about, and his testicles slapped up against his juicy
soft thighs. Most unfortunately for Albert, the feeling of this male
genitalia against his newly supple smooth skin seemed to turn him on,
and his dick became even longer and harder, only increasing how
preposterous the whole sight appeared.
Albert could feel his
hips opening out with their centrifugal movement, like pizza dough
thrown by an expert chef, and soon this was accompanied by an
unmistakable rising in his buttocks. He tensed and grimaced as his
rear ballooned, causing the back of his skimpy thong to slide up
between the twin creamy, jiggling, mounds. Realising his failure to
halt the transformation, he relaxed his muscles, and for the first
time felt the delicious little bounce of a derriere that was both
generous and pert in equal measure.
Still his penis was
flailing about as he involuntarily swayed his new womanly hips.
Despite the total astonishment that went along with the changes being
wrought on his body, Albert's greatest emotion was still shame at
this totally exposing, and even flaunting, display of his most
private parts. He really needn't have worried, as the offending
appendage didn't remain with him for long. With one particularly
forceful jutting of his hips, he felt the force exerted by his
swirling member suddenly shift. Taking a good look down, he could
barely believe his eyes to see that his whole package had begun to
peel away, and was now swinging from a rapidly diminishing section
off to the left of his groin. With one more rotation of his hips, it
detached completely and was flung across the room, flying though the
air before hitting the still frozen Sandy square in her beaming face
and rebounding back into the room. As it fell to the floor, Albert
watched as it transformed to semi-transparent blue rubber, ending
it's sad and lonely life as a moderately sized sex toy.
Where his penis had
been, Albert now felt a slight rising puffiness, and then a splitting
sensation as his skin parted to form a neat little pussy. Albert
looked from the smooth, flat triangle of blue fabric that gently
cupped his new vagina, to the dildo that used to be his dick, to
Sandy's brightly smiling face. He was paralysed by fear and shock,
but inside he was screaming for help. He would take assistance from
anywhere. Somehow deep in his slowly moistening cunt (and though of
course he resisted acting on his urges) he felt that the blue piece
of rubber on the floor offered him the best chance of release from
his tension.
The vibrations
continued on their slow journey up his body, and soon Albert was
wiggling around with a sexy flat-tummied core and a smaller ribcage
to match. Much as he was struggling to take all of this in, Albert
was well aware of what he seemed to be changing into, and accordingly
he of course knew what was coming next. He looked down at the blue
bikini top wrapped around his chest. The cups looked rather large.
Now, for all Albert's
studied restraint, he had, in all truthfulness, always held a candle
for women with rather larger assets up top. I think it is perhaps
often the case that for those deprived of reality, fantasy can be
even more unrestrained and fantastical. And so it was, that with the
knowledge of the gifts he was about to receive, Albert felt both
terror and anticipation.
Both emotions seemed to
settle in Albert's chest, in his heart and lungs, in the same place
as was, for these fleeting moments, the centre of his involuntarily
movement. The vibrations moved slowly towards the front of his chest,
and he felt himself compelled to lean forward and hold his arms out
to the side. He struggled to maintain his balance and found that he
was forced to stick out his newly larger bottom behind his as a
counterweight, arching his back in the process. Glancing up, he
realised that he was now faced directly towards Bob and was
positioned rather like a stripper giving a good view of her cleavage.
And then, rather
appropriately, I think you might agree, Albert began to jiggle. He
shook his shoulders and chest, and managed to get rather a good
rhythm going. Well, Albert had never had much of a groove, and if
you'd told Albert that he would have been able to manage such a
dancing fluid movement, he would never have believed you. Of course
he also might have found it difficult to believe if you'd told him
that his nipples would grow to the size of thimbles, and begin to be
pushed up by blossoming little breasts closer and closer to the
smooth shiny fabric of his cute little bikini.
Nevertheless, both of
these events were now taking place in front of his eyes. The more he
wiggled and jiggled, the more his chest swelled, and the more his
chest swelled, the more he seemed to wiggle and jiggle. His boobies
moved softly into the cups of his bikini and began to fill them up
ever so nicely. The bright colour of the satiny cloth only helped to
emphasise his new contours, each, now rather substantial titty
forming into an almost perfectly rounded shape, sitting proud and
high on his chest and happily advertising their abundance and
availability to anyone who cared to look.
The vibrations in his
chest slowed, and carefully, in stages, Albert was able to rise back
up to an upright position, but not before one final shiver caused his
boobs to go from generous to magnificent, stretching what must
already have been a G cup bikini almost to bursting point.
The movements now
became smaller and more precise as they moved up to his face. First
his lips quivered, and he experienced a softening and plumping
sensation, until with a little “pop” of moisture, they parted
into an ever so slightly open pout of surprise. At the same time he
felt a little wash of something coating them. He ran his tongue over
his upper lip and tasted a faint hint of strawberries.
After involuntarily
twitching his nose into a smaller (and, let's face it, far cuter)
size and shape, he then felt his eyes fluttering. When they were
finished, he could just sense long lashes on the periphery of his
vision. Again, he felt something pass over his lids, giving them a
light blue covering and continuing on to emphasise his big, almond
shaped eyes. Next the whole skin of his face shuddered, forming a new
delicate jawline and chin and feminine but cutely plump cheeks.
Finally, with a vigorous shake of his head, his side parting was
eviscerated and long blonde hair tumbled down across his face and
shoulders, until it tickled his lower back where it arced out towards
his perfect teardrop shaped bottom.
----- Oh deary me, I
seem to have spent rather an excessive amount of time describing the
changes that happened to poor Albert. But then, events as remarkable
as those that took place in that financial records room, (and indeed
the body as remarkable as that which resulted from those events) do
perhaps merit a fair degree of attention, and I have a sneaky feeling
that all of you, my valued and respected readership, won't judge me
too harshly for providing such details.----
Anyway, on with our
story....
“Come on Abby”
Our hero (or perhaps I
should say heroine), looked up with a blank expression towards a
still smiling Bob Reynard for several seconds before realising that
he was expected to respond to this new name. Albert's first
experience as a girl was a little shiver of stimulation down his
spine as he noticed the defined shape of Bob's torso through his thin
white shirt, which had hitherto escaped his attention.
“We've got a shoot to
do. No need to be nervous, you look fantastic, and Sandy here is
going to show you the ropes.”
“I...um....” came
Albert's high pitched reply, his mind unable to form coherent words
while it raced simultaneously with questions, like, “is this
real?”, “how did this happen?”, “how do I get out of this?”
and “I wonder if that cute gold number Sandy's wearing comes in
my size?”
One question finally
came to the fore: “Where did that coin go?” Maybe he could wish
this whole thing away. Struggling to wrench his wide open big bright
blue eyes from the form of Mr Reynard, Albert gave a little squeek
and then frantically began to scan the floor. It was nowhere to be
seen! Wondering whether it might have rolled under the desk, Albert
dropped to his knees and scrambled underneath, raising his mostly
exposed and utterly feminine rear high into the air.
“Hey babe, whatever
you're looking for, you don't need. You're a knockout as you are.”
Still Albert searched
without any luck. He was so focussed on his quest for a way out of
this situation, that he didn't even notice the heavy footsteps of Mr
Reynard as he moved up behind him.
He did notice, however,
the heavy slap on his bottom and the way that the soft flesh wobbled
like firm jelly under Mr Reynard's hand. Albert also noticed how it
made him jump and bang his head against the underside of the desk.
Instinctively Albert
eased himself out from underneath the desk and tried to stand up.
This proved a little more difficult than anticipated, due to his four
inch heels, and he fell forward into Mr Reynard, his boobies
squishing up against Bob's hard midriff and well developed arms.
Still unbalanced,
Albert looked up into the eyes of the immovable Mr Reynard, who
looked back, and with a smile, softly stroked Albert's hair where he
had hit his head.
“Aw, sorry babe. Did
that hurt?”
With his eyes still
inexplicably transfixed by Bob's, Albert felt strangely soothed, and
the pain was minimal. Mutely, he shook his head.
“Good. OK, now let
Sandy take you down to the studio and I'll follow on.”
Being the shocked and
helpless little girl he was,and having never been much good at
rebellion in any case, Albert didn't feel he could refuse. He took
the hand offered by the more experienced woman and, with faltering
steps, tottered away down the stairs to the studio, astonished by the
loud clicking sound of his heels that accompanied every step.
At the bottom of the
stairs, they came out into the main reception and Albert suddenly
felt a terror that someone he might know could look in off the street
and see him. This was all quite irrational of course, as no-one would
have recognised him, and in any event, there was no-one around as he
was led through a doorway and out into the large studio space.
In the studio,
observation was of course an entirely different matter. A number of
pairs of eyes turned to look at him and more than a few lingered on
one or other part of his soft porcelain skin. Instinctively he halted
his steps and covered up in a sort of cringe. Sandy turned back and
looked him in the eyes with a empathetic little smile.
“Come on Honey,
you've come this far. I'm sure it'll come natural to you if you just
give yourself a chance” said Sandy holding out a helping hand.
Albert didn't feel like
going forward, and he certainly didn't believe that anything about
this would ever feel natural, but forward was the only direction help
was coming from, so step by step, he placed one unfamiliar long
slender leg in front of the other and walked along with Sandy to the
space set up for the photo-shoot. Once there, Sandy turned to face
him, and smiling more brightly now, pulled the new girl towards her,
both of them side-on to the camera.
For a moment, Albert
forgot about his own bodily predicament as all of his senses and
fears were focussed on the extraordinary prospect of moving in
towards Sandy's bountiful feminine figure. Albert, had never before
been faced with such an expanse of soft inviting boob as was
presented by the perfect globes pushed up and together by Sandy's
little gold bikini. For a moment he forgot all about the many
onlookers in the studio, and even his own unfamiliar body, and time
seemed to move more slowly as he eased herself towards Sandy's
gorgeous figure and he felt the welcoming touch of Sandy's palms as
they brushed gently up Albert's own soft smooth arms to rest upon his
shoulders.
Albert's sweet,
oblivious, Sandy-centric experience was brought to an end with a
jolt, as the lovely breasts that he was drawing near to bumped
against his own body, and rather than feeling them press against the
unimpressive, but still essentially hard chest that Albert had known
as his own for many years, he instead felt those soft mounds bounce
against his own similar set of enormous titties, making them jiggle
playfully inside the bikini top at the impact. Albert, whose eyes had
been trained upon Sandy's assets, now moved his gaze slightly
downwards and took in the extraordinary sight of the twin sets of
bosoms pushed together to create a single glorious cleavage. Apart
from the different colours of flimsy fabric over their nipples, there
really was very little to tell the boobies of the two lovelies apart,
though his own were perhaps just a little larger, and his skin
perhaps a little lighter.
“That's great, now
give us a smile” called the photographer, a wiry fellow with a mop
of red hair and thick glasses.
The combined assaults
of the terribly immediate and bodily experience of his jiggling
boobs, together with the photographers reminder of his presence, was
all just rather too much for the still reserved, still shy, still
morally restrained little Albert. He turned to the photographer with
wide open eyes and mouth expressing very real shock and fear.
“Yeah, girl, you got
that cutie “whoops!” look down” said the photographer, looking
up from his camera “and believe me the guys like a vulnerable and
innocent looking chick, but it ain't working for the two of you
together. Give me something more sultry and sexy!”
The concept that his
genuine fear and discomfort could be interpreted as an attempt at a
form of flirtation disturbed Albert much further, and he had a
terrible premonition that in this body, pretty much everything he did
would be defined by how sexy it made him. He could only look on as
Sandy, still pressed up close, but now moving her hands down to
Albert's hips, swished her hair, narrowed her eyes, and pouted to the
camera.
“Yeah, that's it.”
shouted the photographer. “Come on blondie, make like you're
enjoying it too.”
Albert, never one to
disobey someone who had apparent authority, dragged his face back
towards the camera and tried to smile.
“Aw, come on” his
red-haired torturer continued “You look like you're in pain! Don't
just stand there stiff as a board, drop a shoulder, arch your back.
Work that body, babe.”
Albert wanted to
comply; He wanted to act like a sexy girl and not let everyone down,
but instead he froze with fear, unable to reciprocate Sandy's
sensuous writhings.
“Ok. Ok. This isn't
working.” announced the photographer. “I can see you're real
nervous, so why don't you take a break and try to calm down, loosen
up.” Albert breathed a sigh of relief. “Count yourself lucky. I
don't normally give second chances, but...whew! That body gives you a
free pass.... for now”
Sandy turned to Albert
“Hey, do you want to get a drink or something? There's a place we
can go to sit down for a moment.”
Albert felt very
grateful to Sandy for her concern, but he had other priorities. He
declined politely in his new sweet girly voice and raced off back
towards the stairs to search for the coin that had somehow got him
into this.
Unfortunately, as I'm
sure that more than one of you, my dear readers, can sympathise, four
inch stiletto heels are not really made for racing, especially not
when they are strapped to the feet of someone who had worn the same
style of sensible black leather shoes every day since school. Albert
therefore should not really have been surprised when, having not
taken three steps, one of his ankles slightly gave way, and he
wobbled and teetered, rather like a new born baby deer, and then
slowly, ever so slowly, toppled forward towards the floor.
In one way Albert
really did ever so well, in that he managed to reach out his slender
feminine arms and stop himself from collapsing entirely to the
ground. On the other hand, his rescue operation did mean that he
found himself in a rather compromising position, on all fours, boobs
swinging freely beneath him and with his long straight legs thrusting
his thong-framed, teardrop shaped bottom high into the air in the
direction of the photographer and other onlookers.
“Hey look.” came a
male voice from behind him “She does know how to pose for the
cameras.”
“There are other mags
that would love that kind of angle babe” spoke another voice
“though you'd have to lose the panties first.”
It was at this point
that Mr Reynard, the owner of the magazine, or “Bob” as he
introduced himself earlier in our story, happened to walk into the
studio. Albert looked up, managing to flick or blow most of his long
hair out of the way, and saw Bob's slightly smirking face looking
down at him. It took Albert a moment to realise that Bob's eyes were
not aimed at his own, but instead lingered on the fabulous rack which
was once again in a position that was most advantageous for this
grinning observer. Albert was mortified to find that his instinctive
reaction was not to flee or cover up, but rather to maintain his
position, extending Bob's enjoyment of the view, and Albert squirmed
as he even felt a growing warmth between his legs at the thought of
this man's admiration.
Amidst sporadic
laughter from behind him, our little heroine, utterly humiliated, and
with his father's voice tutting disapprovingly in his head, clambered
back to his feet and rushed, albeit with rather more careful dainty
little steps, past Mr Reynard, out of the studio, up the steps and
back into the financial records room.
The first thing that he
saw when he entered the room was his mobile phone sitting on the
desk. From an intermittent flashing, he realised that there were
messages on the phone. Well, most of us may have ignored such a thing
in such circumstances, but not knowing whether everything was OK or
whether there might be an urgent problem had always been
psychologically impossible to tolerate for Albert and so he quickly
checked the phone. What he discovered was half a dozen or so missed
calls, all from Dave Pollock, along with a number of increasingly
desperate text messages pestering for photos and updates. Hardly a
crisis, he thought.
That was until he read
the last couple of messages. Dave, apparently, was so obsessed with
the assignment at Jacked magazine that he had decided to invite
himself over to have lunch there! Albert quickly texted back to tell
him not to come, but looking at the clock on the wall, he could see
that Dave was probably already well on his way.
What would happen if
Dave turned up at Jacked? Well, he'd discover that Albert was nowhere
to be seen and he'd probably start spreading rumours or some such. He
might even try to take on the job himself, and then no doubt he'd be
awful to all the women. The thought made Albert cringe.
Of course, this just
made it even more important for him to find the coin. For the second
time he searched and searched the room for the coin, and eventually
he found it, resting beneath a wheeled filing cabinet that felt three
times as heavy as it had that morning. At exactly the same time as
his salvation came to his sight, the object of his terror, in the
form of heavy male footsteps stopping outside the office, came to his
ears.
Albert's hands shook as
he hurriedly reached down to pick up the coin, hoping desperately
that it was good for at least one more wish. With the door opening
and Mr Reynard entering the room, and all of his boundaried,
respectable upbringing pressing heavily upon his consciousness,
Albert quickly wished what seemed like a perfectly natural sensible
wish:
“I wish for
everything to be normal” he said aloud.
Now, many wise people
will tell you that normality is a highly subjective concept. What is
or is not considered normal changes from age to age, from person to
person, and even moment to moment. Reality simply is as it is, and
makes no judgment on how it *should* be. It therefore stands to
scrutiny and reason that making things normal is not a matter of
changing how things are, but how they are perceived.
Albert therefore had
little justification for being as surprised as he was when, after the
world had once again frozen in time, and while his girlish heart
raced in anticipation of being released from his nightmare and
returned to his previous form, nothing about his appearance changed
by even a single hair's breadth.
Instead he felt a wave
of dizziness overcome him as his mind started to race, recalling
items of his memory, values, skills and knowledge, one by one, and
changing, adapting and adding to each as was necessary to cause
reality around him to be considered *normal*. Well my dear readers,
whatever powers that be decided, (rightly or wrongly I'll let you
decide) to keep intact as much of Albert's mind as they could, and to
focus on what might be considered the core of what might cause a
person to feel that things were not *normal*; that is, the concern
and worry at the way things are.
And so, Albert was not
deprived of his childhood memories, for our memories and our own
story is truly who we are. But the feelings of repression and guilt
flowing from such memories were certainly a barrier to feeling
comfortable in his new role as Abby, and so they melted away, to be
replaced with fun-seeking and exhibitionist tendencies and a desire
to take risks and enjoy whatever life brings.
Albert's years of
living in the sexual desert were not suddenly filled with risque
escapades, as our experience is all we have. But Abby would have felt
quite the outsider, and really rather unable to live in her current
world, if she was not now to be blessed with a great boiling desire
in her soul for baser pleasures, a knowledge of how to extract them,
and a deep interest in the naughty and kinky in the world.
Albert's knowledge of
his interactions with those that he had learnt from and worked with;
colleagues, acquaintances and his few friends, were not erased, as we
can be said to be the sum of our relationships. But the content of
those conversations, of mathematic formula and political current
events, became somehow placed behind a cloud or fog for Abby now,
lest such difficult subjects or thoughts make her find it strange
that someone of intellectual gifting be engaged in her current
profession. In fact such a change was all the better, because Albert
had of course wished that *everything* be normal, and so now Abby
felt very little concern or worry for the big questions of life, or
the plight of the earth's citizens. It all just seemed quite OK.
Add to these
transformations a few bells and whistles, such as a love and an eye
for fashion, an alluring sway to her gait, a more fitting style of
speaking and an expertise in hair and make-up, and suddenly the same
world that had moments before caused Albert's stomach to tie in
knots, now seemed just peachy for little Abby Hale.
----Well, I can hear
some of you saying that if we were to be entirely strict, creating a
perception of normality might also mean excluding such things as
excitement and surprise, but please bear in mind that we are not
talking about science here, but rather magic, and in my limited
experience, magic always comes with a little, how shall we put it;
*personality*.
Mercifully I suppose
whoever or whatever was in control, looking at the situation before
them, and the feelings predominant in Albert's heart, concluded that
Albert's plea was really directed at the uncomfortable or unpleasant
affects of not finding things as you expect or hope, and decided to
leave the rest untouched. However, it should be noted that keeping
all happy thoughts while removing all the suspicion and wariness that
normally accompanies the unfamiliar did have the effect of a rather
amplified positivity and left dear Abby perhaps a trifle naïve.
Ah well, a decision is
made in the moment, and not all things can be predicted, even by
those who wield great power----
Anyway, on with our
story.
“Oh wow! That was
like,....really cool!” cooed young Abby to no-one in particular.
“What was sweetie?”
asked Mr Reynard as he completed his entry into the room.
“Oh, Hiya Mr Rainy..
Mr Renn.... Mr Bob!”
“Just Bob is fine”
replied Bob
“Okay *Bob*”
giggled Abby, leaning sideways to place emphasis on her employer's
name, before righting herself, apparently happy to be simply smiling
and silent in the middle of the room.
“So, what was cool?”
asked Bob eventually.
“Oh, yeah! I forgot
that you wanted to know that. Mmmm.... Yeah, well, it's, like kinda
hard to explain but my head went all dizzy and stuff, and then I,
like, remembered everything all at once and it was all
nausee....nausemati... like, my brain hurt, but then it all became
all really nice and I felt all happy, y'know?”
Abby looked at Bob with
her cute little nose wrinkled up, hoping for a response to her
question. Bob didn't answer and instead looked back at Abby with
furrowed eyebrows of a little confusion and not insubstantial
concern.
But that's OK thought
Abby, because Mr Bob didn't look unhappy or anything and maybe her
question didn't make sense, and that doesn't matter either, it's just
funny cause she's such a ditz. She didn't used to be a ditz, she
thought, but that's OK, cause it's just funny really and who really
cares about knowing stuff anyway.
“And now everything's
just like, super fantastic!!” she concluded.
“Oh good.”
responded Bob. “Ready to come back down to the shoot?”
“Yay!” said Abby,
bouncing up and down on the spot for a moment. “That sounds like so
much fun! Cause I think I can be really sexy and strike poses for the
camera like this” Abby broke off for a moment to turn away, and
then looked back over her shoulder and fluttered her eyelashes.
“Or like this” This
time Abby turned back around, stood on tip-toe, bent at the knee and
arched her back, legs pressed firmly together and off to one side,
with her hands on her lap. She'd never moved her body anything like
this before, so it felt kinda funny, but also, like, totally natural.
She realised with a tiny bit of surprise that she really hoped that
Bob liked what he saw. From the look in his eyes, she was pretty sure
that he did and it made her a little confused but mostly all excited
to think about it.
“Yes, very nice”
agreed Bob “Now why don't we take that attitude down to the studio
where it can be caught on film”
Abby happily agreed. As
they made their way back down the steps, towards the reception area
again, Bob being careful to ensure that Abby's bouncing, swaying rear
led his way, Bob noted aloud the remarkable turn-around in Abby's
feelings about the shoot.
Abby stopped on the
stairs to think (Not all women can multi-task). It certainly was true
that she had been much more worried just a few moments earlier. For
the life of her she couldn't imagine now, why posing for a camera
would cause her any concern. Sure she had never done it before, but
doing new things was fun. And if she messed up then it didn't really
matter. She'd just try again.
“Um... Yes, I do feel
much better now.” she said “I think it must be to do with this
coin I found. It's like magic or something.”
Abby turned on the
stairs and showed Bob the coin, still held in her hand. Bob's eyes
opened wide.
In facing Bob on the
stairs, Abby had also of course shown him, yet again, a magnificent
valley of boob, but it's honestly fair to say that Bob's reaction was
in response to the coin, which he had thought was safely locked in
his own desk. This might explain the disappearance that morning of
his, frankly rather shady, company accountant, thought Bob.
“Ah! Yes, right. You
know, I've been looking for that....May I have it?” he asked.
To her credit, Abby did
think about this request for a few moments, though you can probably
imagine that her poor little brain wasn't at it's most reliable at
that present moment. She knew that she was really, really happy as
she was, but she also still remembered that she had desperately
wanted to change back to Albert. She couldn't think why she'd want to
do that, even if she squeezed her eyebrows together and thought
really really hard, but somehow, something still told her that it was
important. On the other hand, if Bob was looking for the coin and
wanted to have it, then that was good too. It was his company after
all, so the coin probably belonged to him. She should just give the
coin to Bob now, she decided, and then he'd let her borrow it later
so that she could change back to Albert.
“OK!” she said
brightly. “Can I come and borrow it after the shoot? I need to
change everything back to how it was.”
“Sure, sure” said
Bob, rascal that he was, as he carefully took the golden coin from
her grasp. “Shall we go on down to the shoot and then, after your
done, you can join me in my office. It's the one opposite the room we
were just in.”
Abby handed over the
coin with a smile and a single emphatic nod of her head, causing
bouncy waves of her blonde hair to fall a little over her eyes. With
a giggle at her own clumsiness, she brushed the hair away and who
should she see, just entering reception, but her old colleague Dave
Pollock, grinning intermittently and looking around nervously while
standing at the reception desk.
“I'm, um, here to see
Albert Hale” he said quietly to the receptionist. “He's doing a
visit from the tax office today.”
Delighted to see
someone to whom she could show off what had happened to her, Abby
squeeled with delight and ran over to meet him with rapid tiny little
steps, each accompanied by a loud clicking of her heel on the hard
floor.
“Hi Dave!”
“Oh... um... hi.....
um, hello” mumbled Dave, clearly caught entirely off balance by the
unknown gorgeous girl who ran towards him and threw her arms around
his neck.
“Do
I....Sorry....I...um...How do you know my name?” he managed
eventually.
At this, the stunning
blonde girl in the sky blue bikini starred at him for a moment with
her big blues eyes, before clasping a dainty little hand to her mouth
and collapsing into fits of laughter and giggles.
“Oh my god! I'm,
like, so stupid! Of course, you don't recognise me!”
Dave just mutely shook
his head. He could count on one hand all of the genuinely attractive
women that he'd ever really spoken to, and he certainly didn't recall
the extraordinary beauty now standing before him, her laughter
causing her barely covered breasts to bounce and jiggle hypnotically.
In some deep recess of his brain, he wondered whether one of the tall
stories that he told of his own experience might actually be true.
“It's me! Albert!”
said the girl, as if this information was news, but nothing to be
concerned about.
“Sorry?”
“I'm Albert” she
repeated “Old Bert” she said, in a mock deep voice “Boring old
Bert. Oh, Davey, Y'know? You were always right. I needed to learn how
to have more fun!” she said again, clapping her hands together,
before once again breaking down into laughter.
Dave looked around
awkwardly, not knowing what to say, and wondering whether he was
being filmed for a hidden camera comedy show. Bob had now caught up,
but just looked on. With the coin back in his possession, he was sure
that the truth would never be believed, and was fascinated to see how
this might play out. Dave looked to him with his eyes appealing for
help, but Bob just smiled and looked on.
“Oh! Dave! Dave!”
said Abby, partially regaining her composure “You wanted some
photos. Why don't you take some of me?”
With this she leant
forward to give Dave a good view of her cleavage.
A couple of seconds
passed without words as Abby waited for Dave to get his camera out
and Dave waited for the world to start making sense again. Neither
happened.
“C'mon Dave. I
thought you liked all this stuff” said Abby. “Look at my boobs.
They're like, so awesome!” She cupped them in her hands and began
to squeeze and jiggle them. She did it to give emphasis to her point,
but I can reveal to you that she was also very pleasantly surprised
at the little tingles of pleasure that flickered across her skin.
“Oooh, that's
actually kinda nice” she half-moaned. “Honestly Dave, aren't they
great!? They're real and everything” she continued “Look, have a
feel yourself.” With this, she stepped forward and grabbed Dave's
hand before placing it on her left tit.
“What do you think?”
she asked
“Ah!
They're....they're....” Dave started to hyperventilate.
“Ohmygod!”
whispered Abby, looking Dave up and down. “Have you got a boner
Dave?”
Dave certainly had got
a boner. Quite a boner in fact. And now he squirmed and turned away
to try to cover up the fact.
Abby on the other hand
felt a sudden rush of excitement at the revelation that she had
turned this man on; This man who possessed a hard cock. Deep in her
mind she knew that this should concern her, maybe even repulse her,
but instead she felt elated and powerful. She even noticed a little
growing warmth between her own legs when she thought of the growing
bulge in Dave's trousers and the fact that it was directed at her.
At this point Bob
decided that it was best to step in. Amusing as the whole episode had
been, he was now realising that it might be best to stop Abby
imparting any more information to Dave before Abby said something
that made Dave genuinely wonder if there might be something to it.
Having a quick think, Bob reasoned that he knew just what might get
both Dave and Abby to break off the conversation, thereby giving Bob
more time to think about how to get rid of Dave.
“Hey Dave” he said,
putting a forceful heavy arm around the shoulders of the smaller man.
“Why don't you come with us into the studio and take a look at the
shoot while I get someone to check whether the person you're looking
for is available. MR Hale, was it?” Bob emphasised the word “Mr”
while casting a smirking look in the direction of an uncomprehending
Abby.
“Oh. Err, yes, Mr
Albert Hale” confirmed Dave as he helplessly accompanied Bob
through the door and out into the studio. Abby, following immediately
behind, giggled again at the thought of Dave's reaction to her body,
and gave him a playful little slap on the bottom as they left the
reception.
Just as it was the last
time she entered the studio, Abby felt all the eyes in the room turn
in her direction, but this time she didn't cower. Instead she smiled
back at them all, and walked with her head up and abundant chest
pushed out, emphasising each swaying step and drinking in their
admiration. She'd never known attention like this and she felt so
proud of herself. Who knew it would be so much fun to be a sexy girl,
she asked herself. Of course, she knew that it only felt this good
because of the magic coin, but that was absolutely fine with her. She
thought to herself about how silly she had been when she was a boy;
always avoiding doing anything fun.
“Hi Abby” called a
voice. Turning towards the sound, Abby recognised Sandy.
“Hi Sandy!” she
squeeled, skipping over to the other girl's side and throwing her
arms around her neck “So great to see you again! This is so
exciting!”
“Oh, I'm so glad you
think so!” replied Sandy a little surprised by Abby's enthusiasm.
“OK ladies. Let's get
this show on the road.” called out the photographer. Abby turned to
him and flashed him her biggest smile.
Without even being
asked, Abby pressed herself into Sandy's body, wrapping her arm
around Sandy's waist and then turned her hip outwards to show a three
quarter view to the camera.
“Oooh Sandy, you're
skin is so soft!” she whispered. “You'll have to tell me what
moisturiser you use. We could go shopping together for products and
stuff. That would be so much fun! And maybe we could find some
clothes as well, cause I saw this little dress in the shop on the way
over, which would just be, like, so amazing on you.”
“That's so sweet of
you to think of me” replied Sandy “I'd love to show you this cute
street I know. They've got these great little lingerie boutiques.”
“Keep the chatting
for later” called the photographer. “Show me those fabulous
smiles ladies.”
Abby and Sandy giggled
at the admonishment and complied with the instructions, smiling and
then pouting at the camera as the flashbulbs fired again and again.
“Why don't you place
your hand down here” said Sandy to Abby, bringing Abby's arm from
Sandy's waist round to her bottom “and place your other hand on my
boob”.
“Hee hee! OK!”
giggled Abby complying gleefully. “Oh, you have such a nice bum!”
she whispered to Sandy, giving it a good squeeze. This was all so new
to Abby, but it also felt so natural, and she loved how she felt like
she was able to do whatever she wanted. She felt butterflies in her
stomach at the idea of being so free with her body, but whereas that
feeling would have made Albert run away and hide, Abby felt only the
thrill and attraction of new experience.
Abby spent the next few
minutes striking poses to show off every little bit of her body, or
even better, to playfully hint at showing it off. She bent over a
couch, pushing up her bum and looking back over her shoulder; She ran
her hands through her thick hair and arched her back; Finally, she
threaded her fingers though the string of her little thong, and
pulled it forward, creating an agonisingly teasing little gap for the
cameras.
About half way through,
Abby noticed Bob and Dave standing watching them at the back of the
room. How nice, she thought for Bob to be there for her on her first
shoot. He was such a nice man for letting her borrow his magic coin
thingy. She gave a smile just for him to make sure that he knew she
was grateful. She also made sure to frequently turn just so, to give
Dave the sight of his life. He still looked completely stunned. Abby
giggled cause it was so funny. Of course, it didn't hurt that it also
gave big strong Bob a good view too. He was so dreamy, she thought.
Eventually the
photographer decided that it was time to move on to the next set of
shots. “OK girls. Time to get those tops off” he called.
Abby felt a little
shiver up her spine. She was going to show all of these people her
boobies! Deep inside she knew that this should unnerve her. After
all, she'd only got her lovely boobs today, and even she hadn't seen
them naked before. Also, she knew that she never would have been OK
doing this as Albert. She remembered trips to the beach when he'd
procrastinated about even wearing swimming trunks. Abby blushed as
she remembered that, as Albert, she had even investigated whether
they still made full length swimming suits for men.
Now all of that felt
completely silly. There's nothing wrong with being naked, she
thought, even if it did make her giggle because it was a little bit
naughty!
“Why don't we do some
stripping shots” said Sandy. “Build up to the big event”
The photographer agreed
and soon Sandy had removed her own top and had positioned herself
behind Abby. Abby felt Sandy's soft boobs pressing into her back and
then the slight pull on her chest as Sandy untied the knot at her
neck and then the last knot at her back.
Abby was now aware that
all that stood between the world and a perfect view of her nipples
was the loose grip of a glamour model called Sandy. She felt an
immense thrill at the precariousness of the situation. Albert had
always ensured that there were double and triple safety mechanisms to
guard against any risk, especially risks of impropriety. Now Sandy
playfully ran the thin strings between her fingers, just barely
maintaining the required tension while the photographer's camera
flashed away.
Sandy and Abby giggled
together as the fabric slipped slightly back and forth, allowing Abby
to see fleeting glimpses of the darker skin of her new large areola
and begin to feel the full weight on her chest of her less and less
supported breasts.
Finally, without
warning and with a little trill, Sandy whipped the bikini top away.
Abby gasped in happy shock as her boobs bounced lightly up and down.
“Got it!” said the
man behind the camera. “Super-cute shot.”
Abby grinned and
giggled, feeling the cool air beginning to harden her nipples.
Looking down she saw the complete sweep of her new boobs in full for
the first time. She had boobies! Before today she had barely even
seen a real pair of tits, and now not only could she see them just
inches from her face, she could also feel them swaying and bouncing
on her chest. She looked over to Dave and Bob to make sure they had
seen her moment of triumph. You probably won't be surprised that she
had their complete attention.
A few minutes and many
pictures later the shoot was over. Abby picked her bikini top up off
the floor and happily skipped over to Dave and Bob, feeling her boobs
bouncing wildly with her rapid movement.
“Hi there Abby. That
was great” offered Bob “Did you enjoy it?”
“Like, so much! It
was amazing!” replied Abby happily. “I was just soooo sexy,
wasn't I? Did you see it when Sandy took my top off and I squeeled,
and I thought it was, like, so funny. And then when...”
“Glad you enjoyed it”
interrupted Bob. “And you Dave?” he asked, turning to the rather
ashen face of the speechless Mr Pollock. “Did you have a good
time?” Dave tried to reply, probably intending to form some form of
inuendo, but ended up just nodding his head mutely.
Abby was now trying to
re-tie her bikini top and, seeing as she had these two most helpful
and nice gents available, she decided to get some assistance. Bob was
just saying bye to a staff member who was leaving, and so she turned
to Dave.
“Hey Dave” she
asked “Would you help me tie my bikini?”
With this she turned
her back to her former colleague and gathered up her tresses of long
blond hair, revealing to him the the long, curving canvass of her
back.
Dave couldn't believe
his luck! At the same time, he was quaking with fear. He managed some
half-swallowed noises in the affirmative and hesitatingly reached out
to take hold of the two ends of string and tried to tie them together
“Not like that
silly!” giggled Abby, “That's much too loose. Look, my boobies
just slip right out whenever I move.” Abby turned as she admonished
Dave, demonstrating the revealing results of his handiwork by shaking
her boobs free of the confines of the bikini.
“Try again, tighter
this time” she said, turning back around to give him another go.
Dave tried again, this
time pulling the strings hard before tying them together.
“No, no” said Abby
again. “This time you've tied it too tight. Look how it squishes
them in!”
They certainly were
squeezed, spilling out of the side of the bikini so that the shape
was easily visible to Dave as he stood behind Abby.
“You're not very good
at this Dave. You need to get some practice.”
Dave's face flushed
bright red, terrified that his lack of experience with women was
being exposed. He reached out again to untie the bikini for another
try, but he began to panic when he found that he couldn't get the
knot untied. He pulled and pulled until finally, with a great big
“SNAP!”, the strings broke apart, sending Abby's boobies bouncing
and jiggling free while the bikini top hung from Dave's left hand.
“OH!” shrieked
Abby. “Oh no! Now I'll have to get another bikini!”
Dave of course was
hideously embarrassed, and I think I've described Dave's character
well enough, that you can all have a pretty good guess at how he
reacted. While many would, at this point, have simply been quiet or
apologetic, Dave's instinct was always bluster.
“I...I can....I can
be your bikini!” he blurted out, hands out to demonstrate how he
might fulfil this role. “Yeah, I'd love to cup your tits every
day.”
Well, I suppose it can
only have been fate that at that very moment, Bob, once again a
rather amused observer, had decided to take the very special coin
from his pocket, and flip it into the air. By the time it landed back
in his hand, Dave was nowhere to be seen and Abby held in her hands a
brand new bikini, in baby pink and covered in a design of little red
lipstick marks. The broken remains of the blue bikini fluttered to
the ground beside her.
“Where did this come
from?” asked Abby, with a rather confused and ever so cute look on
her face. “And wasn't there someone else with us?”
Bob was also somewhat
discombobulated for a few seconds and looked at Abby in response to
her question. Both then shook their heads, as if clearing some errant
thought.
“Oh well, doesn't
matter!” said the unconcernable Abby, feeling the soft smooth
fabric in her hands “It's really pretty, I can't wait to put it
on!”
This was actually the
first time that Abby had put on women's clothing, but she knew
exactly what she was doing. She fastened the hooks around her ribcage
beneath her breasts so that the top was backwards on her body and
then flipped it around, before leaning forward to ease her enormous
breasts into the cups, taking care to smooth it down so that the
fabric fitted snugly over her huge mounds. Finally she slipped her
arms through the straps. Feeling a little thrill of naughtiness (but
no shame of course) she quickly whipped off the thong of her now
broken blue bikini and eased the new pink one up her long supple
legs, bringing it to rest on her wide hips and making sure the little
thong sat deeply and evenly between her two round creamy buttocks.
“Oooh, it feels
funny!” she giggled, pawing slightly at the fabric over her nipples
“Is it moving? It feels like it's giving me lots of little kisses!”
Bob looked closely at
the bikini. For a moment he thought that maybe he did see it move a
little, but then he dismissed it as his imagination.
“Don't be silly Abby.
It looks great.”
Abby still felt the
bikini moving slightly on her skin, but, as was her way, she decided
that it as nothing to worry about. It really felt quite nice anyway.
She was probably just being silly like clever Mr Bob said.
“Hey” said Bob,
changing the subject. “Why don't you come on up to my office where
we can have a little chat about that coin you found for me.”
“Oh yeah!”
remembered Abby “And then I can use it to change me back to
Albert.”
“Sure, sure.”
re-assured Bob, but why don't we have a little talk first.
Abby could see
absolutely nothing wrong with Bob's plan and so happily agreed and
accompanied Bob (He was so nice to let her go first on the stairs
again!) back to his office.
----
“So this coin then;
Quite something eh?” said Bob, once they were both back in his
office. Bob sat in his large modern leather chair flipping the coin
while Abby stood a few yards away in the middle of the office.
“Ohmigod, yeah! Like,
it's so amazing!” replied Abby excitedly “When I found it I just,
like, thought about how cool it would be to be allowed to be in the
studio instead of stuck in that stuffy old office, and then, like,
everything just froze and then my body changed and stuff. Like, how
does it do that!? Cause, I thought it was just like some boring old
coin from Rome or Mexico or something, but now, I guess maybe it's
from aliens or maybe it's totally magic, like in that movie”
Abby clearly felt that
no more words were necessary to identify the particular film she
meant, assuming that the reference to magic being featured was
sufficient. Bob though was in no mood to discuss cinema, and instead
returned to the subject of the coin.
“You know, I didn't
immediately realise that you had used the coin. It's a funny thing,
sometimes the changes brought on by the wishes are apparent to the
outside world, and sometimes everyone's memory is altered to hide the
change. It seems to depend on the nature of the wish. If it's a
change in your position in the world then the world needs to change
too, but some things that don't inherently require a change to the
rest of the world can be seen by everyone,.”
Abby looked on with a
smile on her face. This all seemed quite interesting, but she wasn't
sure she was following. She decided that Bob must be very clever to
understand it all.
“So, how many wishes
have you made?” asked Bob, the intensity of his interest just
beginning to show behind his cool demeanor.
Well, it would have
showed to you or me. Abby was entirely unaware of any ulterior
motive.
“Ummm” she hummed
as she thought about the answer to the question. “Two. One when my
body changed, and one when it made me feel all happy and sexy and
stuff.”
Bob's face lit up. This
seemed to be the answer he was hoping for.
“That's good.” he
said, “It only works three times for any person.”
“Yay!” said Abby
“That means I've got one more wish to change myself back to
Albert.”
“Of course, of
course” agreed Bob “But, there's no rush. Why don't we just chat
for a little bit longer before you make your final wish.”
Abby wasn't sure why
there was any need to delay her last wish, and crinkled up her brow
for a moment with something like the tiniest hint of worry. It didn't
last though; If Bob wanted to chat for a bit longer then why should
that make her concerned. Bob was a nice man and she was happy to talk
to him.
“Would you like to
know what my three wishes were?” asked Bob. Abby nodded so he
continued “My first wish was something that I needed to do to make
sure that I kept control of the coin.” Abby nodded again. She
could understand that. The coin was, like, so cool and amazing.
“My second wish was
to own this magazine, which I'm sure you agree, is just the perfect
job.” Abby giggled, seeing that Bob looked her up and down hungrily
as he spoke. She felt a little bashful, but also excited, and she
felt her nipples begin to crinkle up, hardening against the little
pink bikini top. She noticed again how she could see the strong
contours of Bob's chest beneath the white shirt that clung to his
body. God he was so hot! She thought. She couldn't help but think
about how much she'd like to rip his clothes off.
“And my final wish”
said Bob, looking intensely into Abby's eyes, causing her to freeze
in her seat, feeling like the prey animal that she was “was to have
the perfect, male, body.”
This information was
too much for Abby to take in without reacting.. She bit her lower
lip, trying to contain her growing arousal. Her commitment to change
back to Albert was put to the back of her mind for a moment. Bob just
continued to look directly at her. A tension-filled silence reigned
for a few moments.
“Would you like to
see?” asked Bob finally.
Abby felt for the
tiniest flicker of a moment that something was wrong. She was kinda
still Albert wasn't she? And Albert would never be OK with looking at
another man's body. Albert would never even be OK with looking
closely at a woman's body, despite his deep felt interest.
But Albert wasn't
Albert anymore. She was Abby, and Abby just nodded.
“Great, why don't you
come over here and take my shirt off”
With her eyes trained
on Bob's chest, Abby placed one high-heeled shoe in front of the
other and slowly sashayed over to Bob, who remained seated in his
high backed modern leather chair. She leaned over, glancing from
Bob's grinning face to his broad chest and back again, and began to
undo the first button. Despite her long pink tipped fingernails, she
easily managed to release it and was rewarded with a better view of
Bob's sturdy collarbone, beneath his rock hard shoulder muscles that
rose up to meet his neck.
Bob reached out and
took a hold of Abby butt, dragging her closer until she was
straddling his legs. “Hey, you'll be able to do it better from
here” he said in a low voice. She smiled in return, and felt a rush
of warmth in her pelvis, causing her to begin to become a little
moist between her legs. There was nothing wrong, she thought, with
having a little fun before she changed back, just so long as she
didn't lose control.
From her new position
Abby was more easily able to access Bob's shirt, and button by button
she exposed more and more of his powerful tanned chest. After
conquering the final button she gently parted the shirt and then ran
her fingers slowly upwards, running through the body hair that
started as a thin line between Bob's prominent abs and grew into an
arc atop his magnificent square pecs. She cooed as she did so,
enjoying the sensation of warm skin over strong muscles.
“Like it?” asked
Bob confidently.
“Mmmmm” purred
Abby, lost in sensation. “It's nice”
“I think you're nice
too” said Bob, almost encircling Abby's whole waist with his big
hands, before running them slowly up the exposed skin on her back.
“In fact I think you're incredibly sexy”
Abby almost blushed.
Bob was so hunky, and he clearly really wanted her. Something inside
her still felt that sexual experience with a man was not right, but
this instinct only combined with her deep arousal to create a
thrilling sense of taboo. She thought again about the importance of
changing back to Albert, but it was a fleeting idea, and was quickly
overwhelmed by her growing desire.
Bob pulled Abby closer
to him, so that the bare skin on his rippled stomach and her taut
little tummy were sliding against each other. It felt so warm; his
touch so electric. As the force of his hands progressed further up
her back, Abby was pushed forward again, and soon the soft malleable
flesh of her breasts was pressing up against his chest, swelling to
the sides as she now pushed herself closer of her own volition,
trapping the thin satiny fabric of her bikini between their bodies.
Bob's hands ran back
down her skin and took a hold of her ripe round bottom, grinding it
gently into his groin. Abby could feel Bob's hard dick straining
against his jeans and jerking sporadically against her pussy, which
was growing wetter and wetter just the other side of her bikini
bottoms.
Their faces were now
inches apart, and they held each other's gaze for fleeting moments so
intense that they could not be maintained. Their noses brushed
together for a second, before Abby once again drew back
infinitesimally to meet his eyes again. Now Bob lifted his head,
reaching out for her lips, but she smiled and remained hovering above
him, letting his yearning remain unsatisfied for a few agonising
seconds. Though this was all new to Abby, she realised that she knew
very well how to tease. She moved her head upwards, and let him feel
the little flutter of her long eyelashes against his forehead. Once
again their faces moved apart, and it was now, when Abby wanted, that
she leaned in and softly touched her lips to his.
It was gentle at first.
It began with a few long seconds of their lips brushing together,
never stationery but moving, pressing, swelling against each other,
ever so slowly. Next came small little kisses, shallow at first and
then deeper and deeper, Abby's lips parting a little more with each
kiss, introducing Bob to the wetness of her mouth. It felt like an
age, but it was no more than a minute before their kisses were full
and passionate, tongues entwining and punctuated by occasional little
bites to their fleshy lips. Bob brought one hand up to cradle Abby's
cheek as the other remained flat across the small of her back,
pressing their hips firmly together.
Abby now began rolling
her hips against his, the friction causing the dampness in her cunt
to turn to a wetness that began to soak through her little bikini
panties. Still reaching out for her kiss, Bob sat them both up
straighter in the chair and began to remove Abby's top. By moving his
hand up to do so he released the pressure from their middle and Abby
whimpered slightly as she felt the hardness of his cock through their
clothes less strongly.
Bob clearly knew how to
remove women's clothing and soon Abby's bikini top was flung across
the room, ending it's trajectory swinging from a table lamp. Bob
wasted no time in paying attention to Abby's fabulous tits, he moved
his fingers over their lower sweep, felling their soft weight in his
hands. Abby threw her head back and moaned softly in pleasure from
his caress. With his fingers still cupping her breasts, he angled his
thumbs upwards and began circling her nipples which were hard as
brass. Abby shivered in delight as little waves of pleasure broke
gently across her whole body.
After a little while,
Bob changed the instrument of his manipulations, pushing Abby
backwards while keeping her crotch close to his with a firm hand on
her rear, and leaning down to bring his tongue and mouth to flick and
suck at her nipple.
Abby was now writhing
in pleasure and began to buck her hips in invitation. Bob was nothing
if not receptive to her signals and moved his hand from her breast
and slid it down her tummy to the waistband of her thong. He taunted
her for a few moments, running his fingers back and forth, teasing in
and out of the soft pink fabric. Finally, he thrust his fingers
deeper, bringing them to the tip of her vulva and drawing them gently
down and around the engorged lips that he discovered there, before
coming back up, just as gently.
“Mmmmm You like that
don't you, you little slut” said Bob. Abby's mind wrestled with the
question only for an instant before she breathily signalled her
agreement. She hadn't yet thouhgt of herself as a slut, but if this
was being a slut, then she was happy to be one.
Slowly, like the moon
driving the tide, Bob built up a rhythm, mouth on tit and fingers on
pussy, working together in harmony. Abby could feel her labia
blossoming under Bob's touch, opening and lubricating ready to be
penetrated. Bob's attention though remained external, rubbing her
clitoris into such a height of pleasure that her profoundly empty
cunt was twitching with a yearning envy.
Abby was reaching a
grand plateau of pleasure, seemingly stretching on to the horizon,
until Bob simultaneously grabbed her arse hard and lightly bit her
nipple. The shock of excitement jolted Abby over the edge and she
tumbled into an orgasmic abyss, thoroughly losing herself in the
process.
The feeling didn't
subside for what seemed like several minutes, but when it did there
was only one thing on Abby's mind: She wanted that dick that had been
teasing her so through Bob's jeans. She was consumed with passion for
it. She needed it. Nothing else would do. Sliding back from Bob's
magic hands, she stood on her towering heels before ravenously
unzipping his flies with her manicured fingers and dragged his jeans
down till they were around his ankles.
Desperate to be filled
with Bob's shaft, Abby began to move back over his lap, but she was
halted by a strong firm hand.
“I want you to suck
me first”
Abby's pussy was crying
out in hunger, and a little relic of resistance sparked in her mind
at the thought of sucking a man's cock, but in her aroused state, her
new-found acceptance of the world took on a new character. In the
interests of ensuring normality and avoiding conflict of any kind,
Abby discovered a compulsion to obey. To comply with every
instruction issued to her. She still felt the emptiness between her
legs but she didn't just accept Bob's instruction to take his dick in
her mouth: She wanted it. She wanted so badly to please him.
All that remained
between Abby and that cock was Bob's black boxer shorts and she
approached them like a panther, observing the twitches of her target
beneath its cotton shroud. Biting her full lower lip with
anticipation, she fixed her eyes on her prize, reached up to the
waistband of Bob's underwear and slowly pulled it back. Her reward
was truly magnificent. Bob had not lied about having the perfect make
body, down to every detail.
Abby savoured it as
life giving nectar. She pressed her lips to the tip and raised her
big blue eyes upwards to gauge her man's response. He smiled down at
her, urging her onwards.
“Put it inside you,
you dirty girl.”
She needed no
encouragement, taking first the head into her mouth and swirling her
tongue around it. It tasted salty; nourishing to the slutty soul that
was growing inside her. She felt it twitch in response to her
ministrations and her heart leapt with happiness at having given
pleasure to her man. Bob began to groan in pleasure and Abby was
beside herself with joy. She took it deeper inside her, greedily
pushing it back in her throat as far as she could until she felt like
she might gag.
Abby continued, bobbing
her pretty, blonde haired head up and down Bob's great shaft. Slowly
she built up speed and firmness and Bob's groans grew and grew in
response. Just a few minutes later Abby felt Bob's dick swell one
final time before it sprayed it's warm sticky load into her mouth.
Abby wanted to swallow it all down, but some escaped and as she
lifted her face from Bob's lap, a thick string of semen stretched
from his member to her mouth and then broke, falling across her face
and breasts.
Abby though was
oblivious, looking up at Bob's face, eager to know that she had given
him satisfaction. His head was flung back in ecstasy, but when he
finally looked down it was with a smile that warmed Abby's little
heart. He smiled first at her face and then moved his gaze down
towards her cleavage. Following his eyes, Abby now saw the excess cum
on her tits. Looking back to Bob, she knew what he wanted her to do
without him having to say it. She scooped up the cum on her finger
and sucked it like syrup.
Bob gave her a special
grin “rub in the rest.” he commanded, and Abby complied, making
sure to give him a good view as she ran her manicured hands over and
around her boobs, making them bounce and jiggle. As she did so, she
saw Bob's still miraculously hard dick jump in appreciation. He
looked ready for another go straight away.
Delighted, and with her
vagina still profoundly unsatisfied, Abby giggled with glee, and
moved up and forward to once again straddle Bob who was still seated.
Abby brought her pussy, still covered by the pink bikini thong, down
to meet Bob's dick, stroking it up and down by swaying her hips back
and forth.
Her bikini was now
sodden with her juices and clung to her pussy lips. With her
increasingly sensitive folds she could again have sworn that she felt
little kisses and squirms from the fabric. She pushed down a little
harder and gave a high-pitched little yelp as her bikini suddenly
seemed to move to the side, and she felt Bob's cock slide up a few
inches inside her. It was warm and hard and seemed just ever so
right. She smiled down at Bob and curled her long hair round her
fingers. He looked back with blazing eyes and took a firm grip on her
bottom, driving her hard into his lap, forcing his dick deep inside.
For a few moments both
Bob and Abby closed their eyes, mutually fulfilled. Abby rocked her
hips feeling Bob's already hard dick growing back to it's full
delicious length inside her. She took in every sensation as it slid
back against the slick opening to her pussy before thrusting inwards
to fill up the space inside her. Again and again she rocked back and
forth, feeling in bliss at the culmination of her purpose. Bob moved
with her, pulsing deeper and deeper.
“mmmmm” she moaned
without thought “Ohhh!! Yesss!!”
Abby felt Bob's dick
grow again, and anticipated finally feeling his hot seed inside her.
But she was denied her desire. Instead she felt herself lifted up and
off Bob's dick, terrifyingly away from the object that was all that
had meaning in her existence. She found herself deposited back on her
feet and suddenly Bob was standing before her in his full
intimidating height.
“I want you to tell
me how much you want it.” he growled, one firm hand around the back
of her neck and the other roughly squeezing one of giant tits.
Abby was speechless
with loss, having been wrenched from the hot shaft of flesh she
desired, and could only murmer meaningless sounds.
“I want you to beg me
to fuck you like a whore” insisted Bob.
Abby wanted to comply.
She wanted to fill her lungs with the invitation to screw her and
then scream it to the world. But she felt a resistance to the words.
“Fuck me” she
thought, but a deep, almost lost voice inside her prevented her lips
from moving.
“Fuck me” she
thought again. This time her plump, cock sucking lips formed the
shapes, but no sound emerged.
But she was not to be
denied. She wanted it too badly.
“Fuck me” she
whispered hoarsely, finally and decisively overwhelming her final
resistance.
“Say it louder”
“Fuck me!”
“Louder!”
“FUCK ME!!”
The words were barely
out of her mouth when she found herself held and spun by her hips,
before being pushed forward, bent over a desktop as her boobs mashed
into the hard surface. In a heartbeat Bob was behind her, ripping
down her panties and digging his strong hands into the soft flesh of
her bottom, and pinning her in place. In the next moment she felt his
dick at her exposed cunt and the moment after that he was inside her,
driving and thrusting with no regard for her wellbeing. She gasped
for air as she felt herself stuffed like she had never imagined.
“Yeah you like that
don't you. You fucking love it”
Abby's head was filled
with the sound of Bob's hips slapping hard again and again against
her round jiggling butt and the musty scent of sex and sweat.
“Say you love it!”
he demanded
“Yes, I, love it!”
she complied, each syllable formed with a new breath in time to the
rhythmic pounding she was receiving.
“Say it like you mean
it bitch”
“I love it. I love
you fucking me.” She replied, with more genuine intention and
passion that she had ever bestowed on any words before. “Yes! Yes!
Fuck me harder! Harder!”
“Yeah, that's right.
You fucking love it. You love being my fuck toy don't you. Tell me
you love being my fuck toy”
“I love being your
fuck toy”.
“Tell me you want to
be my fuck toy for ever and feel my dick inside you every day”
Abby barely skipped a
beat in replying to her man's demands, and who can blame her? She was
after all, loving being Bob's fuck toy, and the giant tits bouncing
and squishing against the desk certainly seemed like fuck toy tits,
and the round juicy arse being slapped again and again certainly
seemed like a fuck toy arse, and the slick tight pussy between her
legs, filled up with Bob's hard cock certainly seemed like a fuck toy
pussy.
“Yes” she said “I
want to be your fuck toy for ever and feel you cock inside me every
day and whenever you want.”
And time suddenly stood
still.
There were no sounds,
and no movement. Abby gasped, feeling Bob suddenly pause with his
cock buried within her cunt. Still pinned against the desk, she
searched her senses to try to work out what was going on, and with
the discovery of another presence on her skin, a warm, coin-sized
circular shape on her back, she realised what was happening.
Her mind once again
became a blur, as her desires and intentions were changed. This time
the wish was localised and specific, so it didn't take long. In fact,
very little changed for Abby. She still felt Bob's strong hands on
her butt and his hard dick in her cunt. She still felt surging
pleasure crashing over her whole body. But now, there was no question
left. She knew that after Bob shot his load deep inside her, she
would want nothing more than for it to happen again and again, and
that she would never ever question her role again.
The very moment that
time began again, Bob reached his explosive, powerful, animal climax,
pumping pulse after pulse of hot sticky seed into her every crevice.
Abby moaned in delight and fulfilment, pushing her pussy back against
him, milking his cock for all she was worth.
-----------
It was a few weeks
later and close friends Sandy and Abby walked arm in arm up the
street of exclusive boutique shops, their twin teardrop shaped rears
swirling in unison as they swayed their hips with every step. They'd
had so much fun shopping that morning, spending a distasteful amount
of the cheques from yet another men's magazine shoot on barely-there
lingerie and the designer high heeled shoes that now clicked loudly
on the pavement as they walked.
As they passed a
newsagent, Sandy peered in at the lad's mags on the upper shelves by
the door. “Ooh look Abby, there's another one with your picture on
the cover!”
Abby smiled and
giggled, but didn't squeel or make too much of a scene. She had shown
a great deal more excitement when Jacked decided to put her and Sandy
on the cover. Since then her star had truly soared, and now every
magazine and advertising company wanted a piece of her. Seeing her
pouting lips and enormous boobs beaming out from another front cover
was always a little thrill and made her smile, but for Abby Hale
these days, it was beginning to become just quite normal.
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