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Found 33 results

  1. Digitally Corrupted

    Digitally Corrupted (Breast Expansion) Fetish tags: Breast expansion, Ass Expansion, Race change, possession, transformation, bimbo transformation, forced, lactation, domination, mind control, body swap. Natasha opened the door to her appartment, after her cursory sweep she sat down and opened her laptop, she saw an email that made her frown. "Spam folder should have detected this, "Digital Paradise" As soon as her finder made contact with the touch pad the laptop shone bright, and she was sucked into the glow, her body disintigrated to glowing pixels and the screen turned black. Psylocke, though also known as Kwon checked her phone, she was bored, upon her doing so a notification popped up. She tapped it and her phone glowed brightly before she was sucked into it, the phone clattered on the ground, screen off. Rogue strode through the jungle, completely in her element, her beautiful breasts swayed back and forth as she climbed down to the camp site, several people had left their belongings to go to the market, she opened the laptop and connected it to the long range network link the campers had brough. Checking the news she logged into her email and found something that made her laugh, Digital paradise. She clicked it and the laptop glowed bright and Rogue saw her chest disolve to pixels before the rest of her followed into the machine. Silk swinged through the city, she perched on a ledge to check her messages. She was feeling really on edge and hadn't had sex in a long time, she saw the email and moments later she was zapped into the phone which hung on the building from her web. Emma Frost was angry, she was expecting an email detailing her next operational command from Magneto, she noticed she had an unread message, it must be it. She clicked it and her body was drawn into the screen leaving nothing but the her high heels. Natasha found herself in a dark room, stony in texture, she got to her feet and looked around, she saw Emma, Silk, Rogue and Psylocke as well. She wondered how they had arrived her. "Where are we?" She said aloud. A low rumbling chuck filled the space, and the room was light by a dim blue light. A woman strode out of the darkness, a busty light skinned bombshell, with black hair to her round ass, her breasts were supple and she oozed feminine power. "You are in my part of the net, and I shall bend you to my service" Natasha felt her chest tighten, she looked down and saw her generous endowements growing until her jumpsuit unzipped then tore off, leaving her topless. She cupped her breasts, sending pleasure through her, she lost herself and fell to her knees needing her flesh. Psylocke teleported behind the woman and drew her sword to attack, before she could it vanished, the woman turned around and Kwon felt her lips fill and saw that her skin was darkening to a caremel brown, her ass widened and her uniform morphed into a pink version, with a cutout down to her navel, barely hiding her breasts. Kwon tried to teleport away, but when she used her power instead she felt her breasts surge forward, breaking from her slutty uniform. She fell forward, the Woman grabbed her by her right breast and Kwon felt herself fill with lust, for women and began fingering herself. Rogue and Emma looked to each other, before they could say anything the Woman sent a lighting bolt towards them, Emma turned to her frost form but the bolt pass through it, sending her back to human form, her skin became tanned and her breasts went from their DD cups to G cups, Emma reached out Psychically to the foe but she felt her mind torn from her body, the physical form went limp and fell. Emma was trapped in a ball of pink energy. "This will be fun" The Woman said, she turned to Silk, who knew she could do nothing, she felt like an oberver in her own body as Emma was thrust into her body, the woman sent pink energy, and Cindy felt her sex drive increase as Emma's was accomodated. With the combined sexual drive of both women, each above the average she couldn't help herself, she lept on to Rogue. Rogue felt their sexual drives enter hers and grabbed Silk's breast, instead of gaining the powers of the women she gained their appearance. Her breasts billowed out, her hair darkened and her skin tanned. She unzipped Cindy and findered her, the two woman screamed as the both felt the orgasm. The Woman then tore Cindy from her own body and placed her in the limp form of Emma. "No" Emma said through Cindy's voice. The Woman sent sexual energy in pink lightning towards her, Cindy became a perfect bimbo, her breasts reached her naval, her hips widened and her lips puffed up becoming scarlet, her black hair became blond and a dark tan covered her flesh. Cindy watched through Emma's eyes her body being changed, she knew her sexual preferences had been altered but she couldn't help herself, using Emma's psychic ability she made Silk walk up to her, she grabbed Cindy's breast and sucked it. Emma moaned in pleasure. Rogue approached the Woman, She grabbed her and felt the mysterious power flood into her, but instead of fighting her she felt the will to serve the sexual dominator, she sent energy into Natasha. Her tits became body sized and her hair grow to her knees, becoming a bright red. Kwon had regained control of herself, but before she could act Rogue rose both her hands and sent pink energy towards her. Kwons clothes vanished and her breats became impossibly firm, filled with silicone, her ass widened and became a full bubble but, her waist shrunt and her form became less athletic and more skinny. Her face became distinctly asian in appearance and her hair grew to her ass. She moaned and grabbed both her tits pushing them together. The Woman rose her hand and Rogue's hair turned pink, her breasts became beach balls, her shirt shredded in unision. Her ass widened and her lips turned brown and puffed up. Her whole skin became brown and she looked unrecocgnisable. Then the Woman took her mind and tore it out, placing Natasha's inside it, Natash felt her new body, unable to comprehend the pleasure coarsing through her. Rogue landed in the form of Natasha, immobilised by her giant breasts. Natash walked over to her, she grinded against Rogue's new booty and grabbed her breasts, then she kissed her and the two both gave in. Emma and Silk wer both still fingering each other, Silk loved this new body, she commanded Kwon to join them, her asian slutty sexified self looking more like a Korean dancer than the hero. Both Kwon and Silk sucked her tits, The woman sent a bolt of energy forth and Silk/Emma's Body lactated, the milk containted a powerful aphrodisiac and the woman became more aggressive, kissing and squeezing her titflesh. The Woman smiled, these beings would make a fine addition to her realm.  
  2. going native

    Going Native by Enfetisha Added 21 January 2017 Updated 11 February 2017 mc ff mf ft A young blonde American tourist in Africa finds herself stranded in the wilderness. Joining the native tribe is her only hope of survival or escape. Joining this tribe, though, will profoundly change her. “Going Native” part 1 (ff, mf, ft, fd) Maggie had never been more excited. She was going on a safari! As she and her best friend Juliana drove to the airport, Maggie made a mental checklist of all the things she wanted to see in Africa: Victoria Falls, giraffes, lions, rhinos. Those termite mounds that were taller than a person. Parrots! Chimps! A three toed sloth—the slowest mammal in the world! The list of interesting nature Africa boasts was practically endless, Maggie thought. The people who lived there probably had no idea how beautiful their land was. “Mags?” Juliana’s voice punctured the daydream. “You remembered your passport, right?” “Give me a little credit, Jules,” Maggie responded. Just to be safe, she reached into her jacket pocket (inside breast) and felt it. Then, to be extra, extra safe, she pulled it out of the pocket and took a look. Yep, there she was. And even though the photo was poorly lit and taken in a pharmacy, she looked pretty good, Maggie thought to herself. The picture was taken last year. She had just gotten back from a cruise—hence the honey tan and extra blonde hair—and had just taken out the braids she had paid some island girl to give her, so her hair had extra body. Pulling down the passenger-side mirror, she checked herself out. Yep, still hot. Actually, even hotter than the pick, now that her osteotomy nose job from early summer had finally healed and left her with the thin, straight nose she wanted. “Oh my God, Mags! You check yourself out every five minutes! You’re so arrogant!” Juliana teased. “Yeah, like you don’t do the same thing when I’m driving!” “I guess that’s why we get along! We both understand the importance of looking hot, even when you’re about to hop on an eighteen hour flight to go on a safari in Africa!” They laughed. It was ridiculous when you said it aloud. Their last few weeks had been spent preening in front of the mirror, practicing their poses for selfies they would take in front of armadillos and wildebeast, and trying on different, cute safari outfits. They each brought five different safari outfits, in colors ranging from tinkerbell blue to hot pink. With matching safari hats and boots, of course. Moments later, Juliana announced that they had arrived at Miami International Airport. Next stop: Tanzania! (or to be more precise, next stop, security, then the airport lounge, then the plane, THEN Tanzania) * * * The flight was uneventful. First class is the only way to fly internationally—Maggie’s dad had taught her that at a young age. In fact, it was the only way she had ever flown, but she had heard horror stories about coach. In first class, you could just recline and let the Ambien and white wine do their jobs. In a moment of lucidity, Maggie noticed Juliana chatting up a well dressed black man whose accent indicated that he was from Africa. What a fucking tourist! Maggie drifted off to sleep again in her comfortable, fully-reclined seat. * * * Maggie next opened her eyes in Kilimanjaro International Airport. The plane had landed, and all around her, passengers hustled to disembark. Juliana was still flirting with that man. The flirtation continued through baggage claim. The man—whose name was Abassi, it turns out—even helped with the dozen or so suitcases they had brought. As Juliana and Maggie got in a taxi to their hotel, he slipped a piece of paper with his phone number into Juliana’s hand. “What are you doing?” Maggie asked her friend. “What? He’s fucking hot! You has a beautiful smile, and you can tell he’s like chiseled from granite.” “Agree to disagree,” Maggie thought to herself. She wasn’t a racist by any means, and had even dated a Latin man once. She simply wasn’t attracted to black men. Maybe it was their skin tone, maybe it was their stereotypical features, like fuller lips and wider noses. Whatever it was, the end result was that Maggie was content for Juliana to experience this aspect of the local scene by herself. Still, she had to get in one last dig. “You always do this. You always have some kind of romance with the natives.” Maggie recalled the torrid (and brief) love affair between Julia and the Jamaica kid last year. “Well, I like to experience everything the countries we visit have to offer!” The girls laughed. Yep, Juliana was going to fuck that dude. * * * At their amazing resort hotel, the girls threw some shillings at the concierge to arrange for their bags to be brought up to their room and headed to the spa. After a long flight, they needed some pampering. Otherwise, what would the selfies look like? An hour long massage and cucumber mask later, they felt refreshed and went to their room. Or suite, rather. With two walk-in closets and a hot tub big enough for a half dozen people. Maggie wasted no time unpacking her belongings and arranging her outfit for tomorrow’s safari. Watermelon would be the color, she decided. While Maggie was in the closet, Juliana was on the phone. “Don’t be mad,” she told her friend when Maggie emerged, “but Abassi is coming over now.” “Oh great. Well what am I supposed to do?” “I dunno—can’t you check out the gift shop or the beach or something?” Maggie grumbled, then changed and complied. * * * Maggie walked through the gift shop. A snow globe of Mount Kilimanjaro. T-shirts with local soccer teams on them. Toy gazelles. Nothing compelling. She meandered to the postcard spinner rack and lazily looked at them. Postcards with pictures of Mount Kilimanjaro, local soccer teams, and gazelles. Nothing compelling. Then, a bizarre image caught Maggie’s eye. Toward the bottom of the rack was a dusty card with a picture of some tribespeople. The men wore loincloths, their torsos painted. Some sported plates in their lower lips, extending their lips by inches in one of the most horrific examples of body modification Maggie had ever seen. The women were equally bad. They, too, wore only loincloths, their breasts hanging, exposed. Their hair hung in long dreadlocks or hung around their heads as unkempt afros. Their bare feet were adorned with numerous rings, and their toenails were uniformly as long as most women’s fingernails. Many sported some kind of nipple piercing. Most also had what appeared to be a kind of ritualistic scarring all over their bodies. Maggie put the card down and left the store, repulsed. The beach was much better. Maggie was practically the only person there, except for the hotel staff that returned periodically to ply her with drinks. It was awesome sunbathing weather, too, with a high sun and no clouds in sight. After about an hour on the beach, Maggie, who had been lying on her stomach, decided her ass had gotten enough sun and flipped over. Feeling naughty, and with no one else around, she undid the straps holding her bikini top on, exposing her breasts to the warm, moist air. “Juliana will flip,” she thought, “when she notices that I don’t have any tan lines…” Maggie smiled and thought back to that summer in Nice where she last got that “all-over” glow. Shortly after doing so, Maggie’s attention was drawn to some commotion closer to the water. Staff had gathered and surrounded a small group. Voices were raised, puncturing the serene beach setting. Curious, Maggie got up for a closer look. She stopped at about five meters distance, seeing that the staff had intercepted three interlopers. Most likely, they had wandered onto the resort beach without invitation, as they clearly weren’t guests. In fact, they appeared to be tribeswomen, like those in the postcard. The group consisted of three women, each wearing loincloths and each topless. Two had long, black dreadlocks; the third’s hair was a frizzy/kinky rats nest. Their breasts were shocking—enormous and hanging down the bulk of the length of their abdomens. Maggie looked down at her own breasts, also still bare. They were indeed much smaller than the trespassers’, but Maggie was very glad her B cups were so perky. She also was grateful at that moment for her moderately-sized, light colored areolas and normal-sized nipples, which contrasted starkly with these women’s dark areolas as big as saucers and ending in giant nipples, several pierced with thick metal bands. Maggie could only imagine how painful those piercings were. Her jaw dropped further when one of the women turned her face, and the sun caught the metal in her face. A blunt rod traversed her nose sideways, halfway between her bridge and the tip, passing through both sides of the nose and the septum. Likewise, metal protruded from either side of her bridge. Several septum rings dangled from her nose. Each was connected by a chain to her ear. As if sensing Maggie’s derisive gaze, she turned and locked eyes with Maggie, cracking a smile and playfully knocking one of the chains with a finger. The fingernail was at least 2 inches long, and the hand bore some kind of scarred design. Altogether, Maggie had never seen anything so grotesque as these women. She was very grateful to the staff for removing these people from her beach—the mere sight of them discomfited enough to ruin Maggie’s sunbathing experience. Maggie headed back to her room, found that she was still sex-iled, and returned downstairs to the hotel bar. After she was drunk enough not to care whether her friend was having sex next to her, she went back upstairs and passed out. * * * The following morning, Maggie awoke, hung-over. She flipped in bed and saw Juliana, already awake. Next to her was Abassi. “Wakey wakey! Man you were trashed last night!” “Damn, don’t remind me.” “You still making the safari today?” “Oh shit—what time is it?” “In about an hour.” “OK good. I should be good to go. Did you decide on your outfit? Do you still want to coordinate?” “Um… sorry, love. I’m going to bail. Abassi and I want to spend some time together.” That sobered Maggie up. “Fine,” she said, curtly. She was pissed. This romance was really getting in the way of the plans she and Juliana had come up with. Maggie stomped off to the closet, threw on the safari outfit she had laid out earlier, and stormed out of the suite. * * * Maggie sat at the hotel bar, wolfing down a nice, greasy breakfast of eggs, bacon, and buttery toast. It was just what her hang-over needed. “Excuse me,” she said, flagging down a waitress. “Could you get me another glass of orange juice?” It was her third. “Cripes, someone loves OJ,” came an Australian-accented voice from down the bar. Maggie looked. The speaker was a blonde of about 25. He wouldn’t have been out of place on a surfboard, except that, like Maggie, he was wearing a safari outfit (albeit one less garish than Maggie’s). He beamed, and Maggie was drawn into his blindingly-white smile. The two began to chat. This guy’s name was Shawn, and he was actually the safari tour guide Juliana and Maggie had engaged. Chatting turned quickly to flirting. Maggie was looking forward to going into the jungle or savannah or whatever with him. If all went well, maybe she would be the one to sexile Juliana later tonight… Shawn and Maggie finished their breakfasts and left to load up his Jeep for the safari. Minutes later, Shawn was driving Maggie down the highway. “Are you ready to see some rhinos?” Maggie screamed in delight. She was finally on the road, finally going to see some cool wildlife, and maybe going to have a fling of her own. When Shawn put his hand on her thigh, she leaned in. They made light, flirty small talk for the next several hours, until Shawn spoke up. “How about I show you where the real cool shit is? Not the bullshit they usually put tourists on safari through?” “That sounds awesome!” Maggie replied. “Time to go off-road then!” he announced as he turned down a dirt path. * * * “Shhh—look over there,” Shawn said as he slowed the Jeep down to a crawl after a few hours down the bumpy dirt road. “Rhinos! As promised!” Sure enough, Maggie followed the direction Shawn pointed and, sure enough, there were three behemoths, nonchalantly chewing grass. Maggie couldn’t believe how close she was to these majestic beasts. “Can we get out and pet them?” “Are you daft? We have to get ready to floor it in case they charge!” Maggie laughed at herself. Shawn was so smart. And so cute. They continued driving and passed a group of crude huts. They appeared fashioned out of mud and straw, with thatch roofs and dirt floors. “Those will be the Tinerians. Creepy fuckers if you ask me,” Shawn volunteered. As if on cue, someone emerged from one of the huts. It was a woman, clad only in a loincloth, with long, black dreadlocks. Even from a moving car, Maggie could see all the metal in her face. “Oh my God, Shawn—I saw this woman yesterday at the hotel!” “Shit! What were they doing there?!? That’s twenty miles from where their normal territory!” “She walked twenty miles since yesterday?? That’s insane! She doesn’t even have shoes!” “Yeah, I know, right! They’re nomads, I guess. Mainly, I think they just get their jollies off freaking out the tourists!” Shawn laughed, gutterally. “I was so freaked out yesterday, Shawn. What those people do to their bodies is absolutely disgusting. The scars and piercings and everything—blecch…” Maggie gagged. “Well, I dunno, I think you’d look pretty sexy walking around topless all the time,” Shawn laughed again. “You bastard!” Maggie feigned indignation and hit Shawn playfully on the arm. The Jeep swerved slightly. “Careful, lady—don’t forget I’m the one keeping you safe out here…” “How could I forget? My hero!!!” They both laughed. And when the laughter subsided, Maggie sensed a real moment. She reached across the seats and put her hand on Shawn’s pants. Seconds later, she had pulled down his fly and begun to wrestle his penis out. She started to jerk it. Shawn grabbed her head and guided it down to his lap. She unlatched her seatbelt and began to suck Shawn’s cock. It was average size, about 6 inches. Maggie looked forward to feeling it inside her later. Shawn moaned. Maggie gave good head, at first alternating between slowly licking the shaft and holding the tip in her mouth, then gradually increasing the speed of her cock sucking until she was energetically bouncing on his cock. Shawn slouched in the seat as the scenery zipped past. Sensing that he was close to finishing, and turned on by how slutty she was acting, Maggie increased the suction. Shawn moaned again. This was the best blow job he’d ever gotten. He looked down and smiled at the beautiful, blonde American girl delivering it. She looked up, they locked eyes for a moment, and Shawn inadvertently steered the Jeep into a gnu that was crossing the street. * * * Maggie opened her eyes. Her vision was blurry at first, but after several blinks, everything snapped into focus. She was on some straw in a small shed or something. Looking more closely at the walls, she could see that they were textured. Did this shed have stucco walls? No, looking even closer, Maggie saw that the walls were made of dirt and straw. She was in one of those huts she had passed earlier. “I have to get up and find Shawn,” Maggie thought to herself. She put her foot on the dirt floor and, as she stood up, experienced sharp pain in her leg. Examining the source of the pain, she saw a large gash in her calf. It had been filled with what looked like sand. She reached in her pocket for her phone, intending to call for help, but found it smashed beyond usability. There would be no calling for help, let alone selfies, today. Ignoring the pain, Maggie walked out. The hut opened onto a common area around which other huts were arranged. The injury slowed Maggie’s gait, and her grunting drew a crowd of the tribespeople around her. It was mostly women. Sure enough, they each wore just loincloths, their large brown breasts flapping in the breeze. Their bare feet were adorned with numerous rings and the same ritualistic scarring that marred other parts of their bodies. The toenails were exceptionally long, yet somehow each foot looked clean. Their faces were heavily pierced as well. Maggie tried to press through the crowd, but the woman she and Shawn had passed stood in her way. Maggie, forced to confront this dreadlocked primitive, couldn’t take her eyes off the metal rods running lengthwise through her large, flat nose. After a moment, the woman grabbed a handful of Maggie’s blonde hair, held it up, and spoke to the crowd in a kind of sing-songy / clicking dialect. The assembled all laughed uproariously at whatever the woman had said. Next, she pointed at Maggie’s boots and said something else. The crowd found this even funnier. Finally, she pointed at Maggie’s chest and uncorked a real knee-slapper. Tired of being the butt of jokes, Maggie, painfully, pushed her aside and walked to the road. As she pressed through the crowd of women—about 25 in all—she saw that among them was a tan blonde, looking to be about 20 years old. She was as pierced as the others, with a series of septum rings and rods traversing her nose’s width up to the bridge, and dressed precisely the same, though her small, white breasts poked forward instead of down. “Weird,” Maggie thought, “but a mystery for another day.” She made it to the road and spent the better part of the day slowly walking in the direction she believed Shawn’s car to be. After a while, she could smell burning in the air, an odor that grew more potent as she continued, until she finally arrived at the charred out husk of Shawn’s Jeep, next to the charred remains of the giant mammal Shawn had hit while she was blowing him. And of course, there in the front seat was a charred corpse. It must be Shawn, Maggie realized, as she pieced together what had happened. The collision had thrown her from her seat. She injured her leg and was knocked unconscious, destroying her phone in the process, and the Tineris must have brought her back to their camp and “dressed” the wound. Mercifully, her ejection from the vehicle threw her clear of the conflagration that ensued as the gas tank ruptured. If Shawn wasn’t killed in the impact, he probably died an agonizing death, Maggie realized. The thought sent a chill down her spine. That chill was followed by an even bigger one as she realized that she was alone, with no food, water, clothing, shelter, or means of communication. And no one knew where she was. She began to sob. After crying for a bit by by the Jeep, Maggie collected herself. She was aided in doing so by night falling, which brought a significant temperature drop and, Maggie realized, nocturnal predators. With this realization, every rustle in the brush startled Maggie. Lacking better options, and with her mobility hindered by her leg injury, Maggie lay prone and rolled herself under the husk of the Jeep, where she spent a fitful and anxious night. * * * The sun’s warmth raised the air temperature even under the Jeep. Maggie awoke in a sweat. Her designer safari duds were torn and ruined with grime and blood. She had gotten almost no sleep, between her leg pain, concern about becoming some animal’s next meal, and dread about her present situation. She considered her options. First, she could walk back to civilization. The Tineris did it, after all. With her wounded leg, though, it could take her days, even assuming she followed the path correctly back to the highway. Second, she could wait by the Jeep for help to arrive. This was a gamble, as no one knew where she and Shawn were headed and they were far enough off the beaten path that it seemed unlikely anyone else would be coming down this way in the near future. Most likely, no one would even realize she was missing until, at the earliest, tonight—Juliana was in her own world and probably hadn’t noticed that her friend was missing yet. That left one more option—go back to the Tineris and ask for some help. Maybe they knew a shortcut back to the civilized world, or maybe they could even go get her some help. Maggie’s stomach rumbled. She hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since breakfast the last morning. She set aside her pain and began the slow march back to the Tineris’ camp. * * * She arrived shortly after dusk. In her approach to the camp, she could hear a steady drumbeat and wild, bestial screams. Maggie couldn’t tell if someone was fucking or getting killed—or even if humans were involved at all—but, lacking any other options, she pressed on toward the noise. A campfire lit the scene when she arrived at the outskirts of the camp. And what a scene it was. While Maggie crouched in the distance, twenty or so Tineri tribespeople, nearly all women, were gathered around one of them, rubbing some kind of dirt on her. She was totally covered, head to toe, including her hair. The process was clearly turning her on, and she tugged on her nipple rings in passion. As she did, a surprised look crossed her face, like there was something different to her breasts, but that look was swiftly replaced by pure lust. At that point, someone dumped a basin of liquid—water?—on her, wiping off most of the mud. She stood and shook off the rest, releasing her long black dreads and her smooth ebony skin from the mud. She stared at one of the only two men Maggie could see, as he stood off to the side. He nodded, and she walked toward him over some of the other Tineri. When she reached him, she silently dropped to her knees and reached under the man’s loincloth, maintaining eye contact with him the entire time. As she began to pump, it looked to Maggie like she was checking with him each time she escalated the encounter, seeing whether he gave permission to proceed. When he grunted approval, she lifted the loincloth and deepthroated the largest cock Maggie had ever seen. It was the size and shape of the lower part of the bannister at Tiffany’s. Maggie was amazed that a man could be so well hung and shocked / disgusted at the fervor with which the woman sucked that cock. Then, Maggie noticed that the rest of the tribe had broken out into an orgy. Throughout the clearing, women buried their heads between the legs of each other. The clearing was soon filled with the sound of passionate breathing and moaning. Maggie had never actually seen lesbian sex before. The sight made her gag involuntarily. Then, she noticed that several groups had formed where the women were licking one another’s feet. With utter revulsion, Maggie watched one such woman take another’s foot—the same one she walked around on all day—and lick between each of her toes, taking the long-nailed, ringed toes in her mouth in turn. The sensuality with which the licker approached her disgusting task really got to Maggie, and, without thinking, she muttered, “So gross…” Moments later, she was tapped on the shoulder. She turned and looked up to see one of the two tribesmen standing above her. His chiseled chest was covered in scars, mostly designs, but some recognizable shapes, like horses and women. A stern expression crossed his face, a look made even more ominous by the crackling fire lighting him and the gigantic, curved ring that went through his nose, entering above one nostril, passing through the septum, and exiting the other side. When Maggie didn’t immediately move, he grunted again, this time pointing away from the camp. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spy. You people were so helpful to me earlier and—” Maggie started. The man cut her off with another grunt, again pointing away from the camp. “Yeah I don’t mean to bother you but I really need—” The man grabbed her forearm. His grip would certainly leave a mark. “Please, help me—” He flung her away. Maggie stood, but the man silently guarded any return to the camp. Dejected, Maggie slunk away. She eventually found a tree she could climb and got what little sleep she could in it. * * * The next morning, Maggie knew she had to find water. She figured she could just watch the Tineri and see where they got theirs. After making her way back to their camp, she watched for a while before some of the women left carrying jugs and basins. They were clearly headed to the water supply, and Maggie would be close behind. Of course, Maggie could barely keep up with these women, who could walk faster than almost anyone in spite of the terrain and their bare feet. Maggie struggled with her leg, but her desperation gave her the strength to keep them in sight. Eventually, they approached a brook. They set their jugs down and entered to wash themselves. Maggie wandered upstream a bit until she felt they wouldn’t notice her and did likewise. She pulled off her boots for the first time in days. The stench was ripe. As she peeled off the filthy socks, she noticed that she had a bona fide sock tan line for the first time in her life. Lint from her socks stuck to her feet. The cool, soft mud on the shore of the brook felt good underneath and between her toes, and so did the temperate water of the brook. As she lowered her head underwater and drank as much as she could, she began to relax. The pain from her leg subsided with her thirst, and she soon forgot how hungry she was. Maybe she could simply float down this brook until she got to a town, she figured. Isn’t that how these people who lived around her transported stuff? She raised a foot above the water, scrutinizing its blisters and nicks. A pedicure would be high on her list of priorities when she got back. Maybe a massage too… Heated shouting punctured her relaxation. Looking at the shore, she saw two of the group of Tineri women entering the brook to chase her. She feebly attempted to escape but was captured in a few seconds and brought to the shore. “Please let me go! I only need to get back to a city!” Maggie pleaded as she was dragged from the water to a third Tineri woman. Up close, her piercings and scarring were extremely intimidating. In response to Maggie’s pleas, the woman returned indignant shouting in that sing-songy / clicking language the Tineri spoke. “I can get you money! Just let me float down this brook to a town!” Her words continued to fall on deaf ears. “Please…I’ll die…I’ll do anything…please…” At this point, Maggie fell to her knees. Her captors let her drop. Maggie sobbed inconsolably on her own as the three Tineri huddled. After a minute of apparent argument, one of the two women who had captured Maggie helped her to her feet. Maggie recognized her as the cock-sucker from the night before. “Oh my God, thank you so much, I promise—” “Shut up, bitch,” the cock-sucker said, in perfect English and with an American accent. “Here’s the deal—we helped you yesterday, and you just pushed us aside and left. We Tineri can’t just let that go.” “Wait—how do you speak English? Are you Americ—” “Don’t be stupid, bitch. Listen to me. I’m telling you what’s going on. We Tineri can never forgive a foreign bitch who insults us like that.” “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry! I was confused! I was in shock! Please forgive me!” “Shit. You really do talk too much, you know that? Just fucking listen, you idiot. We are a proud but forgiving people. We can’t forgive a foreign bitch like you, but we always forgive each other.” “Huh? I don’t understand.” “Of course you don’t.” The cock-sucker ran her fingers through Maggie’s blonde locks. The three Tineri laughed. “I’m telling you, if you want our help—and I can tell you that our help is the only way you’ll survive another day—you’re going to have to join us.” “Join…?” “Yes. Live by our customs. Become Tineri.” That didn’t sound so bad to Maggie. She’d do their trust falls or whatever, gain their trust, then, with their assistance, return to civilization and the life of luxury she had always known. “Umm. OK. What do I have to do?” “First, this.” The cock-sucker grabbed the two sides of Maggie’s safari shirt and ripped them open. Buttons flew everywhere. The woman threw the rags into the brook. Then, she took the top of the tank top Maggie had on underneath and did likewise, similarly throwing it in the brook. Finally, she reached between the cups of Maggie’s bra and unclasped it (with a strange ease, considering she lived topless). The bra too found its way into the brook. Maggie was as topless as the tribeswomen, who closed in on her until they were all standing bare chest to bare chest. Their dark skin and huge, black areolas contrasted with Maggie’s pale breasts. The cock-sucker grabbed Maggie by the shoulders and pulled her closer until Maggie could feel the thick metal of her nipple rings. Uncomfortable and self-conscious about her perky B’s, Maggie stepped back and folded her arms. The woman firmly unfolded them and the Tineri women laughed. They took turns poking her breasts and comparing them with their own ample tits, cackling the whole time. Maggie began to feel nervous. “We’ll fix your tits, don’t worry,” the woman said, ominously. “After all, we Tineri don’t wear tops.” Maggie managed a wan smile, then went over to the edge of the brook to retrieve her boots and socks. She sat down and began to put them on when the woman interrupted. “Nope. We don’t wear shoes or socks either.” She grabbed one of Maggie’s bare feet and examined it. “Don’t worry, we’ll fix your feet, too.” “What does you mean—‘fix’?” “I just mean that you’re going to love being a Tineri. Promise. In fact, let me introduce you to one of the many pleasures of life in our tribe.” She sat on a rock next to Maggie and put her right foot in Maggie’s lap. The toenails were long to the point of curving, which seemed impractical in light of the fact that they walked around the jungle barefoot all day. Four of the toes had tight bands of metal around them. Maggie had seen toe rings before (though she personally found them hideous), but these were far more ornate than what you’d find on an aging yoga instructor in the Valley. Most striking about the foot, though, was its soft, supple skin—precisely the opposite of what Maggie expected from someone who never wore shoes or visited a nail salon. The tops were well-moisturized, the dark brown color almost creamy. The soles had no calluses on them and, in truth, felt like someone had run butter on them minutes earlier. Maggie looked at her own feet, abused and angry from days of hiking. “How are your feet—” “Shhh,” the woman said, lifting her foot and putting the ball on Maggie’s lips. “You know what to do.” Maggie knew this woman expected her to kiss that foot. The idea of kissing any foot was among the most abhorrent things Maggie could imagine, but this foot had been walking around in a jungle! And the woman had super long nails and tons of toe rings and the whole thing was sooooo weird and… “I don’t have a foot fetish—” Maggie started. “Yet.” The woman finished the sentence as she shoved her big toe in Maggie’s mouth. The nail caught the roof. Maggie winced, then got the idea that there was more of that to come if she didn’t show some enthusiasm. So, reluctantly and tentatively, Maggie swirled her tongue around the toe. When the woman indicated that she wanted her second toe sucked as well, Maggie opened her mouth to allow its entry. Soon, she was holding the foot in front of her face with both hands, running her tongue around and between the toes. Her attention was fixed on that foot, as she knew that she had to do the necessary to placate these primitives. She didn’t notice as the other Tineri women began to pleasure themselves. Nor did she notice as they began to pleasure each other. “Hmm… I see what they were saying about having a white girl suck your toes,” the woman said. “You are going to be very popular with the ladies back at camp. I mean, once we fix you.” Maggie looked up to see the woman with one hand between her legs, lewdly manipulating her folds, and the other lightly tugging on the huge ring that went through her right nipple. “Come,” said the woman, as she placed her other foot behind Maggie’s head and pulled it into her crotch. “Lick me, white girl.” Maggie resisted, but the woman pulled her in more forcefully. Recognizing that she had little choice, Maggie stuck her tongue out and licked the small patch of soft, dark, curls. She had never seen lesbian sex before yesterday, let alone had lesbian sex. Frankly, the thought disturbed her. She wasn’t homophobic exactly, but she had a certain notion of what lesbians looked like and did. And that stereotype didn’t include her. But today, it did. Tentatively, she pushed aside the woman’s pink folds with her tongue. The taste was mildly acrid, but not as rancid as Maggie expected of someone without a shower. Through trial and error, she eventually found the woman’s clit and spent several minutes slowly circling it with her tongue. The pace of the woman’s breathing accelerated. Maggie licked with more urgency. The woman took Maggie’s left hand and placed it on her nipple ring. Maggie understood that she was supposed to tug on it gently, and so she did. The woman came violently as she held Maggie’s face into her cunt, making sure Maggie could feel each of her orgasmic convulsions. “You’re going to be a good cunt eater, white girl. Say, what’s your name?” “Maggie,” she said, wiping off her mouth. “Cool. I’m M’li.” Turning to her friends, who were also engaged in some pussy eating, M’li said something in Tineri. The women nodded. The four of them stood and began the trek back to camp. As they walked, Maggie, topless and barefoot, and having sucked her first toes and eaten her first pussy, wondered what she had gotten herself into. * * * M’li announced the group’s return with several loud cries as they approached the village. Maggie trailed slightly behind. She wasn’t used to walking barefoot anywhere outdoors besides a beach, and she had nicked her foot on some sharp rocks and small roots on the trip back to camp. By the time she arrived, what seemed like the entire tribe was there to greet her. “Um…hello, everyone. Sorry I was so rude before—” M’li cut her off, addressing the crowd in Tineri. She gestured broadly as she spoke, pointing at times to herself and at times to Maggie. Eventually, the din of the crowd picked up, seemingly in acceptance of Maggie’s request to join the tribe. M’li turned to Maggie. “I let everyone know you’re here to become one of us. I’m vouching for you, white girl, so don’t let me down.” “I won’t, M’li, I promise.” Maggie had conflicted feelings on M’li. On the one hand, she was the closest thing Maggie had to a friend out there, and without friends, Maggie wouldn’t make it. On the other hand, M’li had already taken advantage of that “friendship” to involve Maggie in sex acts she never would have considered under normal circumstances. Maggie decided to chalk up M’li’s actions to cultural differences and not aminus and resolved to continue to do what she had to do to survive. “Good. Now, let’s meet everyone.” Maggie spent the next hour or so being introduced to each person in the tribe. There were twenty-five or so women and just the two men she had seen the other night (no children at that time). Each woman insisted on a long, close hug. Maggie was still uncomfortable walking around topless, and each hug had the uncomfortable—for Maggie—effect of causing her bare breasts to rub against those of the woman she was hugging. Maggie certainly got her fill of feeling soft, huge breasts and giant nipple rings, though the women were quite welcoming. Maggie also got her fill of women pulling or caressing her blonde hair, poking her in her pale breasts, and pointing at her sock tanned feet, like those parts of her body were novelties. The men were both very standoffish and barely spoke, even with M’li acting as translator. One, N’krzi, was especially intimidating. He must have been over two meters tall, even barefoot. His skin was onyx-colored, in contrast to most of the women, who had a more chocolate-y tone. His hair was a close-cropped afro. Both his forearms were covered in intricate scars. And his loincloth did little to conceal the mammoth cock underneath. Maggie, standing next to him, could see it in profile when he stood at certain angles and was aghast at the thought of being penetrated by such a thing. “That’s out of the way, now let’s get something to eat,” M’li said when they had finished. She led Maggie to a part of the clearing where large stones were arranged in a circle. There were three large, woven baskets in the center, next to a pile of ceramic plates. M’li took a plate from the pile and loaded her plate up with the contents of the three baskets. The first two contained leaves, the second, some kind of meat. Maggie followed suit, her reservations about the cleanliness of the plate and concern over what exactly she was eating trumped by her need to fit in and, most of all, her starvation. Her plate full, Maggie followed M’li as they sat on adjacent stones. M’li’s huge nipple rings rested on her thighs when she sat, Maggie noticed. Maggie also paid attention to cues on how to eat. When M’li began to pick at her plate with her fingers, Maggie took the opportunity to, essentially, inhale her food. She had never had anything so delicious. “Whoa, glad you like it!” M’li remarked. “It’s so good! What is it?” “The meat is basically leftovers. We roasted a boar last night as part of our … celebration, and there was some meat left. The first leaves are from un’jaro trees. They taste kind of like a softer kale to me. The second are really cool. They’re called s’mati. It grows like a weed around here. They taste kind of like buttery cucumber. But there’s something else and them. Watch this.” M’li took a handful of leaves and squeezed them, then rubbed the crushed leaves over one of her feet. After a moment, she was finished, and her foot looked shiny and refreshed. “Better than any pedicure. Try it.” Maggie took some of her remaining s’mati leaves and crushed them in her hands until she felt some liquid release. She then took the mass of leaves and liquid and ran it over her left foot. The feeling was amazing—the leaves left her foot feeling clean and refreshed like sanitizer or rubbing alcohol, plus moisturized. Her cuts and blisters felt better almost immediately. She quickly repeated with the other foot. “Good! Now do that every day. You know, some of the girls here think white girls’ feet are nasty, but I think yours have some real potential.” “Thanks, I guess.” They sat in silence for a minute before Maggie asked a question that was bothering her. “M’li, how do you know English? And why do you have an American accent?” “Well, that’s a complicated question. I guess it would be fair to say that I lived in America for a while, but that feels like a long time ago.” “Wow—where did you live? And how did you wind up here?” “Hmm…I’ll tell you some other time. How about you finish up eating now so I can show you something.” Maggie did so, and the women got up. Maggie followed M’li into a hut on the outer limits of the clearing. Inside was nothing but a pile of straw with a leathery sheet over it. “What am I looking at?” Maggie asked. “My bed,” M’li slyly responded, as she pushed Maggie down onto the straw. * * * Weeks passed. There was still no sign of any rescuers or search party coming to find Maggie. She knew better than to ask the Tineri for help in returning to the opulent lifestyle she had known. Instead, she settled into some kind of a routine. She slept in M’li’s hut by night. The hut lacked an ottoman, but the straw bed she shared with M’li gradually felt comfortable. There was nothing else in M’li’s hut, so Maggie spent much of her nights by the fire the tribe built in the center of the clearing each night. Sometimes, she would stay up much later than everyone else, just listening to the jungle noises and wondering if she was hearing any of the animals she had originally come to see on safari. By day, she shadowed M’li as she did her chores, preparing hides and food, foraging, finding water, and washing up. M’li was quiet during these hours, focusing on the tasks she had, to the exclusion of light conversation. At mealtime, they sat together often while M’li made conversation with the other Tineri. In their spare time, M’li instructed Maggie in the language. Maggie found that she could understand more and more and even have simple conversations with the Tineri. Her daily trips to the brook to wash and get fresh water brought her by her old boots and socks. For a few days after she abandoned them, she was tempted to take them back with her, in preparation for her eventual departure and return to civilization. That urge diminished over time, and Maggie found that she actually loved walking barefoot all the time. Her sock tan quickly dissipated, and her feet took on a golden tan. Her soles thickened with use and protected her from nicks and scrapes from walking on sticks and rocks. Regular application of s’mati leaves left those same feet soft and blemish-free. The moist ground beside the brook was especially pleasant to walk through—Maggie enjoyed the cool muck surrounding her toes as she stepped, and the dirt was easily removed with s’mati. With her feet persistently bare, Maggie began to take an increased interest in them. She kept hers clean and soft and also began to appreciate the feet of the Tineri women. The long nails were a bit much, and that amount of foot jewelry looked ridiculous (and probably felt strange). Still, Maggie was inspired by their example to take the two rings she wore on her fingers and move them to the index and middle toes of her left foot. One ring was a simple band of silver, the other, a gift from Juliana last Christmas, was silver with a blue streak in the middle. Within hours of putting on the rings, Maggie couldn’t feel them on her toes anymore, but she really like seeing them when she looked at her feet. It was surprising to Maggie how much she liked her toe rings, especially given how repulsive she used to find them. Eventually, Maggie had no interest in reclaiming her boots. She liked looking at her pretty feet, and she liked feeling the ground under her. Moreover, she probably couldn’t wear them any more—free of the constraints of shoes, her feet had widened noticeably. She couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to coop her feet up in boots. Even flip-flops sounded horrible. One day, as Maggie walked into their hut, M’li, already lounging on the bed, acknowledge Maggie’s increased interest in footcare. “Your feet are very pretty. You have done a good job with the s’mati. I like your toe rings.” Maggie beamed. She looked at M’li’s feet, with their dark tops and peach-colored, smooth soles. She also looked at M’li’s toes, most of which bore stacks of metal rings and all of which had toenails so long they were beginning to bend. Maggie had worshipped them many times at that point, but always reluctantly. At this moment, though, those feet looked cute. “We should get you some real toe rings,” M’li said, wiggling her toes in response to Maggie’s gaze. “And you really need to grow your nails out.” Maggie thought for a moment about it—what would she look like with stacks of toe rings on most of her toes and long toenails? Would that take her from a beach bum look to … something else? Could that be a … sexy look? Were M’li’s feet … sexy? Had she developed a … foot fetish in her time with the Tineri? Shaking off those feelings, Maggie smiled and said simply, “Maybe someday.” She backed out of the hut shaking her head, as if to rid herself of these unwanted thoughts. She was from America, meaning that she belonged back in civilization, she told herself. And civilized people didn’t have foot fetishes. * * * Maggie quickly adjusted to being topless. Her pale bust became as bronzen as the rest of her. Wouldn’t Juliana be jealous of her “all-over” tan, once she got back? Over time, though, what was once naughty to her simply became a fact of life. It was simply her lot to feel the morning sun on her nipples, and a warm breeze on her areolas. One thing she disliked, though, was the constant teasing from other Tineri about her breasts. Since she arrived, they would poke her in the chest, say something, and walk off. Now that she could understand their words, Maggie was hurt. Because her breasts were so much smaller, they called her flat-chested, and because she was white (albeit tan), they said she had ugly boobs. What hurt Maggie the most, though, was when they grabbed her nipples and called her an outsider. Whether this was because of her skin color or bust size, or even because she didn’t have horseshoes hanging from her tits, was unclear. It was also unclear to Maggie why this bothered her. She was, after all, an outsider. She had every intention of leaving these primitives to wallow in their own filth. Right? So why did it bother her that they were calling her out on this, or that she didn’t meet their stupid standards for beauty. Maggie didn’t get immediate answers to her questions. Instead, she found herself looking at the Tineri women and admiring their breasts. What would she look like, with huge, pierced tits, she wondered before dismissing the thought. Maybe she’d consider breast implants once she was back in Miami, but until she was rescued, she needed to focus on getting home. * * * Help didn’t arrive, though. After a month of routine tribal life, Maggie’s safari shorts and underwear disintegrated. The constant use, including regular submersion into the brook, simply destroyed them. With M’li’s assistance, Maggie fashioned herself a loincloth out of leather and cordage. This had the effect of exposing Maggie’s pussy and ass to the air. An earlier version of Maggie would have recoiled with embarrassment at the thought of walking around nude except for two small leather patches over her crotch, but Maggie found she enjoyed the occasional breeze up her twat. That realization led Maggie to reflect on other ways she had changed. An earlier version of Maggie also wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing toe rings, but Maggie loved hers now. And perhaps most glaringly of all, an earlier version of Maggie would never parade around topless, let alone live without a top for weeks. How was she going to go back to wearing tops, underwear, shorts, and shoes? * * * Maggie’s everyday duties also extended to regular sex with M’li. Before sleep every night, Maggie was expected to worship M’li’s feet and eat her pussy until she came. Maggie’s evolving position on her own feet was mirrored in her enthusiasm for the foot fetish acts she performed. When she was new to the tribe, before her feet had tanned and widened, and long before she began wearing toe rings herself, she dreaded the point each night when M’li would put one of her feet in Maggie’s hands. Over time, though, she gained an appreciation of the fact that feet can be cute, and that appreciation extended to M’li’s feet. Maggie noticed that M’li had long, slender toes, for instance, and that her feet always smelled like cut grass, and these things helped Maggie find it more palatable to suck M’li’s toes. She still wasn’t interested in feet sexually, she told herself, but these were objectively pretty feet, and besides, it wasn’t like she had a choice. The lesbian sex acts were worse. Maggie had no lesbian leanings prior to her time with the Tineri, and (she told herself) she still didn’t. Even as she became quite adept at finding M’li’s G-spot with her finger while nibbling on her clit and delicately tugging on one of her nipple rings, Maggie refused to let herself enjoy it. She was straight, and she would return to her lesbian sex-free life as soon as she could get home. Not only was she not attracted to women, but M’li didn’t even have the courtesy to return the favor once in a while. She liked Maggie, but she couldn’t bring herself to eat out a white girl, she said. * * * Overall, despite her reservations, Maggie was acclimating to tribal life well. The safari outfit-clad girl had been replaced by a topless girl in a loincloth. Instead of boots, she wore toe rings on bare feet. And a girl who had never even kissed a girl was now at another girl’s sexual beck and call. One day, though, the facade cracked. N’krzi confronted her at mealtime. He had never warmed to her, and here, he accused her of leading everyone on, of refusing to join the tribe. Despite the ultimate truth of his comments, Maggie denied them. She pointed out the fact that she spoke the Tineri language now, but N’krzi was unimpressed—she would go home and never speak it again. She pointed out what she was wearing, but N’krzi was, again, unimpressed, calling her a skinny, ugly white woman. She had no piercings, she hadn’t decorated her skin like the rest of the tribe, and her hair was hideously light colored and straight. A hush fell over the tribe while N’krzi was verbally abusing her. Thoughts flashed through Maggie’s mind—He was such a bully! He was so unfair! He was so…hot? Maggie ran back to the hut. Minutes later, M’li joined her, hoping to provide some consolation. “N’krzi is an idiot,” she told her friend as she sat with her on the bed. “I don’t know why I’m so upset… he hasn’t said two words to me since I got here… And all I’ve done to fit in! Look at me! Look at what I’m wearing!” “Shhh…I know. You’re doing your best.” M’li stroked Maggie’s head for a while. When Maggie’s sobbing subsided, M’li wanted to redirect Maggie’s energy somewhere more production and so, gave her her feet to play with. Maggie began dutifully licking M’li’s soles. She was quite good at it by now, for a girl without a foot fetish. The mood in the hut calmed down over time, and M’li spoke. “Maggie—I’ve been meaning to tell you. We’ve got the riprasha coming up soon.” Removing the soft foot from her mouth, Maggie asked, “What’s that?” “It’s a celebration. And an opportunity.” “An opportunity for what?” Maggie said. “To truly become Tineri.” M’li slid a hand between her legs. Maggie knew she couldn’t say no, whatever this entailed. “Sure, sounds good.” M’li gestured, and Maggie went back to sucking her toes. * * * That evening, M’li disappeared from their hut for a while, then returned with a bowl full of some dark fluid. The smell wasn’t unpleasant. “Here, drink this.” “What is it?” “It’s the riprasha drink. Have some in the morning and night, every day until the riprasha.” As M’li knelt over her, Maggie held the bowl in two hands and brought it to her lips. There was a weak, minty taste. Almost immediately, Maggie felt light headed. She reclined on the bed. In Tineri, M’li addressed her. “You’ve been holding out on us. You have not been Tineri. You have barely tried. That changes now, doesn’t it?” M’li’s words clicked. Maggie nodded, her resistance drained. She had spent the last several weeks with the tribe trying to figure out how to escape and not how to meet her end of the bargain she had struck—how to become part of the tribe. “And it’s going to change because you realize now that you want to be Tineri more than anything else in the world.” “…yes…” The realization hit Maggie—why was she trying to leave the Tineri? Everything she needed was here. “The most beautiful people in the world are Tineri,” M’li continued. “…yes…” “We speak the most beautiful language.” “…yes…” Maggie resolved never to speak English again if she could avoid it. She loved the melodic clicking of Tineri. “We have the most beautiful hair.” “…yes…” Maggie looked at M’li’s beautiful black dreadlocks with awe that shifted to envy when she compared that beautiful hair to her own flat blonde hair. At that moment, she would give anything to have dark, kinky hair. “We have the most beautiful skin.” “…yes…” Maggie looked at M’li’s rich, dark skin with similar reverence. It was so creamy, so sexy, so much better than her own. The persistent sun had left her tan, and no doubt her jetset friends would kill for this tan, but Maggie realized she would never be dark enough to have skin as beautiful as M’li. “We have the most beautiful tits.” “…yes…” Maggie looked at M’li’s huge brown cans, which rested down on her tummy. They, too, were gorgeous. She regretted every negative thought she had ever had about the Tineri women’s chests; she now sincerely wished her own breasts could be so ample. Her loins stirred when she took in M’li’s black areolas. For the first time since she began wearing a loincloth, her juices ran down her legs. As Maggie’s eyes were drawn to M’li’s protruding nipples and the giant rings piercing them, Maggie no longer felt any revulsion. Instead, she saw a kind of brutalist beauty in the way flesh had been warped to allow the integration of metal. Maggie reached out to touch M’li’s tit. For the first time, she caressed M’li out of desire, not obligation. “Yes, feel my tits. Feel the nipple rings.” Maggie did so. At this point, her pussy was gushing, leaving an unmistakable smell. “You can have these, too,” M’li said, as her protégée felt her up, “once you’re truly Tineri.” Was M’li talking just about the nipple rings or the breasts in general, Maggie wondered. “I want them so badly,” Maggie said. She didn’t know herself the scope of what she said she wanted, but admitting her desire aloud was one of the most erotic things she had ever experienced. “I know, love,” M’li responded. She sat beside Maggie, turned to face her, and placed the palm of her hand on the side of Maggie’s face. M’li’s long fingernails subtly scratched Maggie’s scalp as she ran her hands through the blonde tresses. The girls lapsed into a kiss. Maggie had never kissed a woman before. She never had an “experimental” phase in college, she never even kissed a girlfriend at the bar to titillate a crowd. Now, however, she passionately made out with M’li, opening her mouth to accept M’li’s invading tongue and then stroking it with her own. That was the moment Maggie admitted to herself she was bi. At least. “Tineri women are the sexiest,” Maggie whispered between kisses. “Yes, love. I can’t wait for you to become one of us.” While they kissed, M’li began to rub her supple right foot the length of Maggie’s calf and foot, the long toenails and rings trailing that tender touch with a light, erotic scratch. It drove Maggie wild with lust. After a few minutes, Maggie had to escalate things. With the sun beginning to set outside, she grabbed M’li’s foot and shifted positions to kneel at the edge of the bed before M’li, holding the foot in front of her. “Tineri women have the sexiest feet,” she told her lover. They locked eyes, a prurient look on Maggie’s face, as she opened her mouth to insert M’li’s dark foot. For several minutes, her tongue ran from the base of the ball through the ball and between two of her middle toes. She then extended her tongue in between M’li’s middle and index toes, swirling it around her ring. She had worshipped feet before, but never by choice. Now, she made out with M’li’s foot in a way that only someone extremely aroused by feet could. That was the moment Maggie admitted to herself she had a foot fetish. She was sexually attracted to female feet. M’li pleasured herself with a hand through her loincloth. Maggie paused the foot worship to rub the soft sole on the side of her face. “I have a foot fetish, love,” she told M’li. Saying it aloud made it even more real. And even sexier. “Good, I’m so glad, my love.” “I need to start wearing toe rings like you. And I’m going to grow my nails just like you.” Each admission ramped up her desire. “Yes. You will have such beautiful feet.” As encouragement, M’li placed her left foot on Maggie’s breast, teasing the nipple with her big toenail. Maggie’s breathing grew louder. This was the first time M’li (or anyone in the tribe) had done anything to please Maggie. “We have to pierce these,” M’li said as she pinched the nipple between her big and index toes. Maggie gasped. That was exactly what she had to do! Mark her permanently as one of the tribe! “YES! FUCK! PIERCE ME!” She had never been so turned on in her life. “You are going to be such a gorgeous Tineri woman soon,” M’li said. She slid her supple sole the length of Maggie’s abdomen and slid it inside her loincloth. The foot prodded Maggie’s nether regions before reaching her entrance. “Your old world has nothing for you any more, does it?” Maggie nodded deeply, repositioning herself flat on the floor. “You don’t want to leave any more, do you?” Maggie nodded deeply again, taking another lick of the beautiful foot in front of her. “And you’re ready to become a true Tineri woman now, aren’t you?” Maggie had never been so sure of anything in her life. She smiled and said, “Fuck yes.” M’li penetrated her with her big toe and proceeded to fuck Maggie to the first orgasm she’d had since her ordeal began. It was also the best orgasm of her life.  
  3. "Turning Japanese" female race change

    "Turning Japanese" female race change Day 1 It all started with a spell. Kaye had wanted Matt since she'd seen him behind the counter at that hobby store at the mall where all the Japanese trading card games were sold. Shy, freckle-faced and pudgy in the wrong places with forever-frizzing dirty-blonde hair, one green eye, one hazel eye, and a nose broken by one of her mother's many ex-husbands, she'd despaired of ever getting into his khakis until her friend had brought her a print-out from a website claiming to have "real, working spells." This one promised to make her into the heart's desire of her unrequited love. The ingredients were inexpensive and, with the exception of "a sample of the beloved's person," relatively easy to obtain. In the end, her friend had had to steal his comb, and Kaye had used hairs found therein. She'd been afraid of mispronouncing the name of some elder god or something the whole time she was chanting, but no lightning came to strike her down, the ground didn't open up to swallow her, and she wasn't consumed in St. Elmo's Fire, so she supposed she was all right. Surrounded by nine candles in three groups of three, she ritually cleansed each of her ingredients in the smoke from the incense as she chanted the opening benediction. Some of the ingredients were used in the invokation, which caused a chill to ripple through her when the candles seemed to flash blue for a second. She guessed she'd just imagined it, or maybe had gotten some salt onto the wicks or something. The rest of the ingredients, including the hairs, diced small with a razor, were made into a potion which she heated in a simmering bowl heated with a tea candle. She tried to keep her voice level as she said the final chant while the potion cooled, then knocked it back in a shot. It was still hot, like drinking fresh coffee too fast. Her vision wavered and she passed out. The candles went out at almost the same time. Day 2 Kaye groaned as the sunlight stung her eyes. She sat up, and immediately had to run to the bathroom. "That was the worst idea I've ever had." she moaned as she wobbled out twenty minutes later, feeling as though she'd dropped a quarter of her weight in the commode and spewed another quarter into the garbage at the same time. She cleaned up and put away her candles and other tools from the night before. Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she frowned. She looked thinner, and her freckles and frizz seemed less lively than before. She had trouble concentrating in calculus, staring uncomprehendingly at the chalk board as the professor droned on. It was the same in English class, so she decided to skip the rest of her classes that day and just head back to the dorm, where she knocked back some over-the-counter nausea and diarrhea medicine and flopped face-down into bed. Day 3 Kaye again had trouble concentrating in class. When lunchtime came around, she bought beans and rice and managed to keep it down. Feeling better, she decided to cruise the mall a little. Coming to the hobby store, she stared at Matt for almost half an hour before she found herself walking in. "Hello, welcome to Bobby's Hobbies, how may I help you?" he asked. Kaye felt her knees turn to jelly. If she'd known he would actually talk to her, she would have come in weeks ago! "I'm, uh, looking for some anime." she said. "Subbed or dubbed?" he asked. "Subbed!" she responded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He smiled–actually smiled, her mind enthused–and came out from behind the counter to show her the selection. Half an hour later, she walked out of the store clutching a bag of DVDs and VHSes to her chest as if they were the most precious things in the world. She started watching them as soon as she got home, and didn't stop until her roommate interrupted with "Pop that crap out, I'm gonna watch Jeopardy, and then I have to study." She was always telling others what to do, screwing over everyone else's plans if she could, barking orders and bitching until she was obeyed. Kaye didn't feel like putting up with it today. She rose to her feet, and didn't sit down again until her roommate was unconscious on the floor. She rewound the tape so she could watch again what she'd missed. What's happening to me? she asked herself, glancing back and forth between the screen and her roommate. I've never even taken karate…and I just ninja-kicked my roommate's butt. The butch dyke, biker-bitch army-brat! I didn't even give her time to throw a punch! She finished the tape she was watching and packed up the rest, putting them in the box with her things. She caught sight of herself in a mirror and stared. Her freckles were definitely fading, and her hair looked darker. Her eyes were darker as well, but there was something else about them that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Also, she hadn't noticed before, but she was breathing easier–her nose was straighter than before. Not quite back to what it was before it had been broken, but straighter. This was more than just being sick from the nasty potion. She was changing. Into what, she didn't know. She kicked off her shoes and curled up on her bunk in a fetal position. Day 4 There was no doubt about it, she looked different. Even her stupid roommate noticed. Her nose was fixed and her skin and hair were both darker. The latter was smooth and straight, requiring only a few passes of the brush through the strands to tame it entirely. It was longer as well, reaching almost down to her shoulders. At least she wasn't feeling sick anymore, although she did notice that she left more in the toilet than was her norm. One benefit seemed to be that it only took one harsh glare from her to silence her bitching roommate. She grabbed her purse and left to find her friend. "Amanda!" she called, running to catch up. "Yes?" Amanda asked, turning around. "Wait…Kaye? Holy crap, what the heck?" "Heck is for people who don't believe in Gosh, Amanda." Kaye responded. "And maybe for people who cast stupid love-spells without making sure of the translation." "What happened to you? You look…you're starting to look like one of the girls on my roommate's J-pop albums. I wouldn't even have recognized you if you hadn't been wearing your favorite outfit." "That spell you gave me didn't make Matt fall in love with me. It's changing me. I need you to help me." "Sure, what can I do? You want me to look for a counter-spell or something?" "Yeah. Well, maybe. I can't say I don't like what it's done for my nose." She took a deep breath with her mouth closed for emphasis. "And…I talked to Matt yesterday. I bought a whole bag of subtitled anime. I don't even know how I knew he liked it subbed instead of dubbed." "Lucky guess?" Amanda asked. "I mean, you pretty much had a fifty-fifty chance, right?" "I need you to check out a hunch for me. See if you can find out what he's looking for in a girl." "You think the spell's changing you into what he wants in a woman?" Amanda asked. "Hai. I mean, yes." Kaye said. "Okay, I'll see what I can do." Amanda replied. "Sayonara." "That's not funny!" Kaye snapped. "I ninja'd my roommate yesterday, Amanda. I don't even know ninjutsu." "Yikes, okay, sorry." Amanda said. "I'll head to the mall about lunch time and talk to him during his shift." "Here." Kaye said, handing her friend a twenty. "In case you need to buy something to get his attention." Her friend nodded and hugged her. "Uh…you're shorter than before." "Kuso…" Kaye muttered. "What?" "Uh, nevermind." Kaye replied, blushing. "I hope you still understand English when I get back." Amanda remarked. "Me too." Kaye muttered as her friend walked away. She slogged through her courses as best she could, but only art class turned into less than a disaster. Almost predictably, she ended up sketching the volunteer model as an anime girl. She went with it, using it to enhance her expression. People whispered behind their hands, and she was sure it was about her ongoing transformation. "Nice make-up, Kaye." the teacher said as she passed by. "You'd fit right in in my drama class; we're doing Miss Saigon this month." "Hai, arigatou." Kaye replied as she hurried on by. She left the building and paused, letting the sun warm her after the cold air-conditioning. The spring semester was almost over, the last of the cold weather was almost gone, and the sunlight made her feel good. Alive. Her bra felt uncomfortable, though. She unhooked it through the front of her shirt, reached into one arm hole and stretched it until she could slip her hand out, then easily slid the offending garment off her other arm. "Oh. My. GOD!" exclaimed a boy who had observed the maneuver. "Marry me?" She blushed, smiled, and put her bra in her purse. The wind felt good blowing through her shirt to cool her newly-unfettered breasts. She hummed to herself as she walked down the sidewalk, and broke out into song as her shoes hit the pavement at the intersection, singing the theme from one of the anime shows she'd watched the day before. Amanda was waiting for her when she returned to the dorm. "Ohayo, Mandi-chan!" she called as she approached. "There you go again." Amanda said. "I guess I'm going to have to find that counterspell just so I don't need a Japanese-English dictionary to talk to you." "Gomen…er, sorry." Kaye said. "How did it go with Matt?" "It took a while to convince him I wasn't coming on to him." Amanda said. "Anyway, Matt's fantasy girl is someone who's cute like a J-pop idol, but with American-sized boobs…" "That explains why my bra got tight this afternoon." Kaye said. "…sweet and submissive with the man she loves, but able to defend herself–and him–if necessary, someone caring and affectionate who likes wearing stereotyped Japanese schoolgirl uniforms as much as he likes seeing girls in them, someone he can teach English to while they watch anime together." "Waitwaitwaitwaitwait…" Kaye said. "I'm gonna forget how to speak English?" "No." Amanda said. "I'm going online for that counterspell as soon as I can get to the computer lab. Back in a flash, hold my books for me." "Uh…" Kaye mumbled as her friend left. She felt a strong desire to stop her, even knowing what that entailed. Shaking her head, she headed into the dorm to watch some more of the anime she'd bought. Her roommate didn't say a thing when she came back from wherever she went in the afternoons. Amanda knocked less than half an hour later. "Amanda, what's wrong?" Kaye asked, slipping out the door so as not to have her roommate listening in. "The school blocked the site!" Amanda squeaked. "You're joking." "I wish. The error code I got when I tried to view it was the same one I get if I accidentally click on an adult site in search results." "Accidentally on purpose, you mean." Kaye responded, digging her elbow into Amanda's ribs. "Not funny, Kaye." Amanda said. "This means I won't be able to do get on the site until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest, when I go home for the weekend. Look, I'll email the spell to you when I get on the site, okay?" "Hai." Kaye replied. "What?" "Sorry, I mean 'yes.'" Kaye said. Day 5 Kei looked at herself and found her hair was longer again. She wondered if she should even bother trying to go to class before the spell was broken. Her reflection no longer bore any resemblance to the picture of herself on her driver's license–and why was her name spelled "Kaye" on the card anyway? Her hair and breasts seemed to be the only things that had increased in size. Everything else was more petite. She had to admit, however, she was really cute–no, adorable! None of her clothes fit anymore, however, so she grabbed her purse and something to cover up with and headed for the mall. She looked at her driver's license and thought she'd grabbed the wrong one. It was hard to understand people. She realized she must be losing her English now. She could only pick up every other word anyone said. At least she could still read numbers, and her currency was still in American dollars. She found a store that looked promising, and walked out in a schoolgirl uniform, with three more in her bag. It made her feel sexy to wear this. The skirt was short enough it barely covered her panties, and the blouse didn't quite reach the waistband of her skirt. Her socks came up to her knees, leaving her thighs exposed, and her heels were just high enough to add a little wiggle to her walk. Now that her hair was reaching down past her butt, she wondered if she should leave it down, or put it up in pigtails like Sailor Moon. She decided to go ask Matt. It was his dream-girl she was turning into, after all. Kei walked into the hobby store, but Matt wasn't there. The person behind the counter spoke no Japanese, so he was no help. Pouting, she went to look for something to eat. She found him in the food court standing at the end of the line. She joined him, and felt her hair tickling the backs of her thighs. It was growing noticeably, and she wondered why. She also felt woozy. She heard his voice as he placed his order, and the universe lurched, like the moment just before the Tower of Terror began its plummet. She opened her eyes to see him kneeling beside her, a look of concern on his face. Keiko sat up, feeling dizzy. He asked in English, then Japanese when she didn't respond, if she was all right. She told him she thought she was, now. Keiko wasn't sure what was wrong, except she couldn't remember having eaten that day. He gave her half his hot dog and asked her name. "Keiko." she said. He told her his name was Matt…of course, she knew that. The English words on the food court menu were as foreign to her as moon runes. She felt very alone in a land of incomprehensible symbols and speech, and clung tightly to Matt as he bought them each a burger and fries. She caught him checking her out several times as they hung out together at the hobby store, but she didn't mind. In fact, she tried to display herself even more without being obvious about it. When he got off work, she played Dance Dance Revolution with him at a dying little arcade at the south side of the mall. They ended up at his apartment. It was small, but she didn't mind. As long as it was his, it was the Hilton as far as she was concerned. She stood up on tiptoe and kissed him. She felt his hands on her pert little butt and moaned, pressing herself against him and grinding her crotch against his leg. Her body was in control, and she couldn't stop herself if she wanted to. He led her to the bedroom. "Hai." she whispered as he undid the knot of her neck kerchief. His hand caressed her stomach when her shirt fell to the floor. She had to admit, it looked good now that it was no longer flabby. Her legs weren't so bad either. She smiled, glad she looked good for him. "Matt, do you want me?" she asked in Japanese. "Hai." he responded. "Then I'm all yours." she said. "I've wanted you for so long, but I was shy…afraid you wouldn't like me." He kissed her his hands gently caressing her breasts. His thumbs ran across her nipples, and she moaned. "No need to worry about that." he whispered. She didn't mind the slight American accent in his pronounciation of Japanese. It was just one more charming thing about him. He undid her skirt for her and slid her panties to the floor. She stepped out of her shoes, and he helped her with her socks. She lowered herself to her knees and undid his pants. His cock was hard, and bounced when she freed it from its confinement. She stroked it lovingly, inhaling the scent of it, feeling her juices trickling down her thighs. He brought his hand under her chin, guiding her back to her feet, and kissed her. He kicked off his shoes and slid his pants the rest of the way off his legs, then unbuttoned his shirt. His nametag made a harsh, plastic noise as it struck the floor, but neither of them cared. Matt kissed her again as he leaned her back over the bed. His hand traced up and down the outer folds of her labia, then slowly found their way to her clitoris. She gasped and shuddered in a small orgasm. "Please…" she whispered. Her legs opened invitingly. She felt his hardness at her entrance. Almost hyperventillating with desire and anticipation, she cried out in pleasure when he penetrated her at last. It was strange. She remembered, vaguely, losing her cherry on prom night in her junior year of high school, and yet, there was that unmistakable feeling of her hymen breaking yet again. Yet, it seemed now as if it had happened to someone else, some pudgy American girl. She put the matter out of her mind and concentrated on pleasing Matt. Her body moved sensuously, without her conscious direction. His cock felt so big inside her. Then she felt him stiffen, and she was granted the gift of his seed. Fireworks went off in her brain, and she screamed her pleasure to the ceiling, her body arching like a bow being drawn. She drifted at the edge of consciousness. Her sweaty body hummed with pleasure. She could feel his arms around her. He covered them with the sheet and ran his fingers through her raven hair. She sighed happily and let herself finish the journey to sleep. Day 6 Keiko was awakened by the bathroom light. She opened her eyes and saw her love getting a shower ready. Smiling, she rose and slinked to his side, kissing him tenderly. He turned and drew her to him, his lips pressing against hers deliciously. He drew her into the shower with him and closed the curtain. Their hands slipped and slid over each other's bodies as they soaped each other up with his body wash. He pressed her against the wall, sliding into her wet and willing pussy. They moved as two bodies with a single will–his. She came twice before he erupted inside her. She put her arms around his neck, savoring the afterglow and the spicy scent that wafted around them. He washed her long, dark hair and rinsed her lovingly before turning off the water and leading her out onto the towel on the floor. He gently daubed her dry before drying himself off. He got her another towel for her hair, since he didn't have a blow-dryer. "Just who are you, Keiko?" he asked, holding her close as he whispered the Japanese words in her ear. "How is it I never noticed a little angel like you?" Keiko confessed it all before she realized what she was doing. She clapped her hand over her mouth, looking up at him in terror. Would he still like her, knowing that she hadn't always been his beautiful little angel? She couldn't read his expression. Uncertainty gave way to despair. She hung her head and began to cry. He lifted her chin and gently toweled the tears away. "What about…the person you were before?" he asked her. "It's…It's fuzzy." she admitted. "Like another person, someone I haven't seen in a lifetime. I remember…mismatched eyes and a broken nose. Mostly, I remember that I didn't like the way I was, and I was very lonely." Something of her suffering must have been communicated in her eyes, for he bent down and kissed her, his hands caressing her softly, soothing away the ache in her heart. "Well, you're my girl now, aren't you?" he asked. "I'm all yours." she agreed. "I'm whatever you want me to be. I live to make you happy." They left the bathroom together. She pulled another schoolgirl uniform from her bag. The last one had had a blue skirt and blue trim on the top. This one had green where the blue was on the other. She had two more blues and another green in the bag, along with four extra pairs of white, silk panties in her new size and a bag with five more pairs of socks. All of the neck kerchiefs were red. Matt helped her dress and gave her a fresh comb to run through her hair–he had no brushes. They walked to the mall together, her elbow in his. They were accosted on the way by two men with stockings on their heads. One had Keiko in a headlock, and the other held Matt at gunpoint. She couldn't understand their words, but she understood their tones. Her love was in danger. Matt was reaching behind himself for his wallet. Keiko drove her elbow into the gut of the man holding her and jabbed him in several nerve clusters. With her own assailant on the ground in agony, she turned her attention to Matt's. The man swiveled his gun-hand at her. She kicked the weapon from his hand into the street, and went after him like an enraged wildcat. The man had a hundred pounds on her and was strong enough to bench-press his own body weight, but Keiko was magically endowed with knowledge of every form of martial arts to be found in Japan, small, fast and fighting for the one she loved. Several of his bones made satisfying snapping sounds before her foe fell to the ground in an unconscious heap, and she could hurt him no more. Matt gawked, then applauded softly. "Arigatou, Matt-sama." she said softly, bowing from the waist before she approached him and let him fold her into his arms. "That was amazing!" he enthused. "You really are everything I could ever want in a girl." She smiled and kissed him. They hastened away from the scene lest a police officer appear and ask her for her lethal-weapon certification–which she didn't have. Keiko hung around the store while Matt worked busily. As the day dragged on, more customers came in than she'd ever seen. Mostly, they seemed to be ogling Keiko, but they also bought things, so the manager–whose name was actually Bobby–didn't mind. Amanda appeared in the entrance and beckoned Keiko over. Keiko excused herself for a moment and went to see her friend. She noted that there was a bright yellow book in Amanda's hand, as well as a stapled bundle of papers. Amanda said something Keiko didn't understand, and held the papers out. Keiko took them and looked them over. Half of them were incomprehensible, but the other half were in Japanese–with the bad grammar of an automatic translation website. Keiko looked at Matt, then back at Amanda, then back at Matt again. She handed the papers back. Amanda looked hurt, but Keiko hugged her. "Domo arigato, Mandi-chan." she said, slowly. "I don't need it. I'm happy with Matt-sama. I'll get him to teach me English so I can speak to you again." Amanda wrote down some English phonetic approximation of her words on the back of the spell pages, and flipped furiously through the back half of the book once she had it down. Several minutes later, she looked back at Keiko. She nodded, then opened her book again, this time to the front side. "I…Learn…Japanese…Also." she said, haltingly. Keiko smiled, and led Amanda back into the store, where Matt was just beginning his break. Her life as Kaye Snow might be a fading memory, but Yukino Keiko found that Amanda was a part of it she wanted to hang on to. End.  
  4. Skin Deep Part 1: A FTF Race Change Story “I can’t believe I’m dropping my baby off at college” Dan Steiner said trying to hold back the tears as he carried yet another heavy tote into his daughter’s dorm room. “You’re the one acting like a baby” his wife Sharon told him. “Was that the last one?” “Yeah it was” Dan replied. “I can’t believe I’m actually here!” Victoria Steiner said looking around. It was move in day at Miller College and the hallway outside the room was buzzing with activity. Victoria was wearing her yellow Rams shirt for her school as she and her Mom unpacked and got her set up. Sheets were on the bed and towels and clothes in her closet as they put up a few pictures and personal items to remind her of home. “We sure are going to miss you” Sharon told her daughter which brought tears to all of their eyes “And you need to come out and visit us on weekends…if you’re not too busy” “I will” Victoria assured them. “I wonder when your roommate is going to move in?” Dan said. “Oh I’m sure she’ll be here soon” Tori replied. “Have you met her yet?” Sharon asked. “No, just some text messages is all so far; her name is Laila Williams” Tori told them. “I just hope you two become friends is all” Sharon said. After a few more minutes, they all walked back out and Tori saw her Mom and Dad off. She watched them pull away and wiped more tears from her eyes as they went. Tori turned on the heels of her well-worn brown cowboy boots to go back inside when a car pulled up into the spot that was now open in front of her. A tall and thin African American woman stepped out of the car with a wide smile on her face “Excuse me?” she asked Tori. “Is this Simmons Hall?” “Yes it is…are you moving in today?” “I am” she replied. “We’ve been driving around trying to find a parking spot and I was afraid we’d gotten turned around” She leaned into the car “We’re here…shut off the car!” she told them. “Finally” Tori heard one of them reply. “Would you happen to also know if room 302 is close to the elevator?” “302?!” Tori replied excitedly “That’s my room! Are you Laila?” “Tori?” Laila replied smiling even wider. Victoria nodded and bounced up and down “That’s me! It’s so good to meet you in person finally!” Laila came over and hugged Tori “I am so glad to put a face to the name and texts” she said. “Let me help you carry your stuff upstairs” Tori offered. “I brought my two brothers with me for the heavy lifting, but I’ll tell you what; you can help me unpack and decorate” Laila said. “Deal” Tori said. “This is John and this is Curtis” Laila said introducing her brothers as they began to unload the backseat and trunk of the car. “Nice to meet you both” Tori said as she shook their hands. “I hope the air conditioning is on” Laila said “I’m sweating already” she added as she wiped at her brow. “It is” Tori assured her. Tori looked at her new roommate and thought “She is gorgeous” Laila’s brown skin had a reddish-orange undertone to it and her natural medium length curly hair was coiled into tight ringlets. She was tall and thin with long legs and a natural poise that relayed confidence. “Those boots are cool…do you wear them everywhere?” Laila asked Tori about the cowboy boots on her feet. Tori clicked them together “No” she replied “But I do consider them a good luck charm so that’s why I wore them today” “I was going to say it looks hot; you’ve got that All-American cheerleader look going for you mixed with farm girl” Laila told her after assessing the blonde haired blue eyed girl in jeans and boots before her. Victoria blushed hard “I was a cheerleader in high school” she told her as she flipped her long blonde hair back off her shoulders. “So was I” Laila confided in her. “Oh that’s awesome!” Tori replied. “I’m not cheering here though, are you?” “No, those days are over for me” Tori replied as they walked through the lobby. “I’m planning on studying nursing, how about you?” “The same…must be why they put us together as roomies” Laila replied. “I’m almost afraid to admit that I did grow up on a farm too” Tori said. “Not a real farm but we have chickens and two goats” “That’s crazy; where are you from?” Laila asked. “Springfield Township…about 45 minutes south of here” Laila smiled again “Well I’m from 45 minutes north of here” she replied indicating the city. “But we’re both here now” Tori said. “That we are” Laila replied as they reached their room. “Good, I was hoping to have a window with a view” “Yeah we can see a good strip of the campus from here” Victoria told her. Laila started directing her brothers around as she and Tori opened boxes and totes and got her unpacked. There was plenty of room in the closets for both of their clothes and they had both brought their own tablets and headphones to cut down on any arguments over noise and TV, music or movie choices. After Laila was unpacked, they decided to walk around and explore and get something to eat. There was a Chipotle across the street where they stopped and splurged “There will be plenty of time to use our cafeteria passes” Laila said to Tori’s agreement. The two found they had a lot in common but yet a lot of differences too. They looked forward to the year and starting college with each other even if they would probably never line up on music choices. “So you’re heading home for the weekend huh” Laila asked as she saw Tori packing up a small duffel bag. “Yeah…my Mom and Dad have been asking when I was going to come home for a night so since I don’t have any big assignments due on Monday or Tuesday, I thought this would be the time. There’s also a baby shower for a cousin of mine on Saturday, so…why not” Tori responded. “At least I know I’ll get all my favorite meals made for me and it has been six weeks already” “That’s a nice way to look at it” Laila responded. “So you get the room all to yourself, any big plans” “None at all; I’ve got a paper due on Monday for History since 1945. I have to read this book on the 50’s and write out 5 pages” she said waving a paperback around. “Bummer” Tori replied. Laila sighed and nodded as she added in a smile “If Philip makes me go to the game; can I borrow your big heavy hoodie?” “Of course” Tori responded “Anything in there is fair game, you know that” “I know; I just heard it was going to be cold and I want to put on as many layers as I can” Laila said. “So…Philip is still in the picture” Tori said coyly. Laila smiled and blushed “Shut up; you know we’re just friends!” “Uh-huh” Tori nodded “Friends” “Have a good time down on the farm” Laila said. “I should make you come along; to see you try to pet a goat…” she laughed. “Oh no…I didn’t even like going to the petting zoo when I was a kid” Laila said waving her off “You go and bring me back some leftovers though” “Will do; have fun while I’m away” Tori said as she walked out the door. Victoria got into her old beat up car and began her journey south. In a few minutes she was out of the heavy traffic of the city and into the more quiet suburbs. A few minutes after that, the road opened up into rolling fields of corn and soy. “This was my entire life for 18 years” she thought to herself as she drove on. “Occasional trips into the city were big deals…exotic even” she shook her head “I don’t know if I can ever come back and live in a small town like this. I’m so glad I’m getting exposed to so many different things now” She saw flashing lights ahead of her so she slowed down; a car had been pulled over by the county Sherriff and as she drove past, she saw that the driver was black. For the first time in her life, she realized that things that had come up in her talks with Laila really did happen. “Driving while Black…” she thought “What if I looked like Laila? How would I get treated back here? How would my high school friends treat me?” she thought back to how people had casually talked around town and school: How she herself had talked at one point now made her sick. “I wish I could really understand how it feels to be Laila; to experience the world how she sees it and it sees her” Tori said out loud to herself in her car as she saw the sign for her town coming up. She stopped at the one traffic light in town and sighed. She put her hand out and spread her fingers out concentrating and imagining that they were Laila’s hand and fingers. She glanced at her partial reflection in the rear view mirror and where she saw what she always did; her blonde hair, blue eyes and small nose reflected back. But when she imagined seeing dark brown almond shaped eyes, black hair in tight curls and a broader nose all with dark brown skin, she thought “What kind of looks would I be getting right now?” She drove on until she got to her parents’ house. Her Mom and Dad both rushed out to greet her and after hugs and tears, she went in to a huge home cooked meal. They talked and talked about college life on one hand and small town gossip on the other. Tori was exhausted though and fell quickly asleep in her old bed, surrounded by her old things. The next day at the baby shower, Victoria couldn’t shake her thoughts of what it would be like to be a minority in a town like hers. Her Aunt Patsy made several racial jokes that made Tori very upset “What a hypocrite!” she thought. “If Laila were sitting in this seat, she would smile and be oh so polite but since everybody here is white…Argh!” She bounced her foot up and down very quickly as her legs were crossed and she was wearing a long skirt and sandals. With each aggressive bounce, Tori saw not her own petite foot, but Laila’s foot instead. She bit her tongue and smiled and was polite but inside she was seething. After a long day that should have been a joyous reunion, Tori was upset and tired. Another home cooked meal helped only marginally before she headed up to bed. Behind closed doors, she began to cry tears of anger “I wish I was Laila!” she told herself. “If only so she could be me. If I looked like her, I would show these hypocrites just how bad they act” Laila was on page 4 of her report and making progress when her phone went off “Hey Phil” she answered. “Hey, I was hoping you hadn’t had dinner yet and we could meet up or something” Philip said on the other end. “Hmmm…let me tell you what: I am almost finished with this paper and I don’t want to break my momentum. I’ll text you when I’m done if that’s okay with you” Laila replied. “Okay…I really want to see you tonight” he told her. Laila smiled on her end and blushed “Is that it huh?” she laughed “I thought you’d want me to go to the game” “Nah…I know you’re not much of a fan anyway” he responded. “Well, let me finish this and I’ll let you know” Laila said. “Bye” Laila stretched her back and shoulders out and it ended up as a full body stretch. She spun around in her chair away from her desk and pointed her toes and flexed every muscle in her legs while letting out a long exhausted sigh. “I’m so tired!” she said to herself. She got up and walked around the room flexing her neck and trying to wake herself up. She stopped at the closet and looked in “What should I wear later?” she thought as she looked around. Currently, Laila had on a pair of yellow cotton shorts and a green shirt; perfect for writing a paper but not perfect to see Phil. “I wonder if Tori would mind if I wore her black top?” she thought remembering her roommate telling her that she could borrow anything she liked. “Put that with some tight jeans and my black boots” She dug through their shoe pile and came up with Tori’s well-worn brown cowboy boots “Oh this is a trip…what if I wore these” Laila giggled and slipped her right foot into the boot; it was tight, a size too small for her but just the sight of having them on was comical to her. She worked her left foot in and posed for the mirror “Uh-huh…cowboy here I come” she laughed. Laila took her feet out and looked out the window thinking “I hope she’s having a good time visiting home; no way you’d ever catch me down there” She sat on the bed and caught sight of one of Tori’s plaid shirts in the closet “Now if I looked like Tori…maybe” she laughed again. She shuddered, suddenly cold. Tori sat down on the corner of her bed, head held in her hands. She looked out her bedroom window and gazed at the stars in the night sky “I wish I was Laila and she was me…just so we could actually see how different this world is for the other” As the words came out of her mouth, she shuddered, a sudden chill running over her body. “Ooo” she let out as she ran her hands up and down her arms. She couldn’t see it, but at the roots and tips of her hair, a change had started. Her long blonde hair was turning darker, much darker and becoming thicker and coarser as well. The bottom of her hair began to rise up, travelling up her back and eventually rising off her shoulders as the two ends met in the middle. As her hair turned entirely black, those hairs began to coil up tightly and turn into ringlets, popping out, corkscrewing up into hair that anyone would recognize as natural on a black woman, but not a white one. As her hair changed position and texture and color, Tori was oblivious, still staring out her window. She shook her head and felt her crown of hair move differently; it felt springy and tight as opposed to her usual long and flowing. She put her hands up to her ears and felt her hair tickle the backs of her hands. “What the…?” she mumbled confused at what she was feeling. She put her hands into her hair and felt them sink in. Now thoroughly confused, she stood up and shaking her head just to feel the movement, she walked to the mirror. “What the FUCK!” she said to her reflection. Her eyes fixated on her hair; her medium length, tightly coiled black hair “My Hair! I’ve got…my hair looks like…” raced through her mind “Holy Shit: I‘ve got hair exactly like Laila’s!” she said to the mirror. Her fingers probed again, confirming that it really had changed. It felt, looked and even smelled different. She leaned forward as close to the mirror as possible without touching it as she noticed something else; her scalp looked darker. She lifted up and pulled the hair at her hairline back; beneath her hair, the skin was getting darker. On her very pale scalp, color was coming in. Just as her jaw dropped, her face began to darken in color too. Laila shuddered a second time, this time unleashing hair that was beginning to uncoil and turn straight while lightening in color. Individual strands of hair were loosening up and dropping down long and blonde in color. A few stray strands began to brush her ears on their way down and made her itch. She scratched her ears a bit confused as she felt loose hair on her hands. Laila looked down and noticed a hair on her shirt; it was long and thin and blonde and as she picked it off she muttered “Tori” Laila held the offending hair between her thumb and forefinger as she got up and headed for the trashcan. She leaned over to drop it in, but as she did, hair cascaded down past her field of vision, dangling all around her and framing her face; blonde hair. Laila eyes went wide as she jerked back up straight. As she did, she felt her hair flow back and whip around her, something like she had never felt before “Whoa; what the hell” she said to herself as her hands tentatively reached for and touched her hair. “What. The. Actual. Hell.” Laila’s head shot back and forth; she was shaking it and feeling the thin and loose blonde hair flip and fly around her. “I must be dreaming…” she said with a nervous laugh as she made her way to the mirror mounted on the back of the closet door. “What the Fuck!” she yelled at the reflection as she grabbed fistfuls of blonde hair attached firmly to her head. She yanked down only causing pain to herself enough to make her crouch and bend down “This is impossible!” Laila stared at the reflection in the mirror dumbfounded. Her mouth hung open in absolute shock “I think I’m going to pass out” she said in a panting voice. She thought she looked pale, almost as if the color was draining from her face. She blinked twice and shook her head again “Oh my dear Lord” she managed to whisper out. Her fingers pressed into her cheeks until white shone forth “I am pale…and getting even paler…” The color of Laila’s skin was lightening and changing as she watched. “No…” she said as color drained from her forehead and cheeks. Her light brown lips were turning pink and thinning “I don’t understand, I don’t get it…what’s going on?” Her sleek almond shaped eyes began to pull up from the sides, getting larger and rounder in shape and in a flash; they turned bright blue. Laila felt faint; she staggered backwards from the door and the mirror until her legs buckled under her and she collapsed into a heap on the floor. Her face continued to change. Her skin tone continued to lighten turning an orange pink shade across her forehead cheeks and chin. Her cheeks rose up and became rounder as a brighter shade of pink filtered in across them. Her nose shrank inward across the bridge and the end came out to more of a point as opposed to her flatter nose with the end turning slightly upward as well. Her ears began to burn as those too changed shape, getting longer but were unseen as they were covered by her blonde tresses. Laila ran her tongue over her teeth as they shifted inside of her mouth, moving in position and getting smaller as they did. Her chin rounded off and her jaw line rose up and pulled back. Her arms shook wildly as she tried to prop herself up. She managed to get high enough up to see her face in the mirror. With a gasp; she recognized the reflection “Tori?!” Tori stood before her mirror and watched as color filled in on her face. Her pale skin began to darken steadily to a tan, then to tawny beige until finally it turned brown with orange and reddish undertones. “Oh…” she said as her cheeks pulled out longer and sleeker and the corners of her eyes pulled out making them more almond shaped before her bright blue flashed to dark brown. “Oh God; it’s…it’s actually; happening…” Tori’s nose broaden across the top and flattened at the tip as her pink lips changed color and pulled up and out, plumping and widening into Laila’s mouth. Her teeth shifted and grew larger as they straightened and whitened. Her chin came down into more of a point and her jaw dropped lower as well. Even her ears changed shape as they grew smaller and pulled in closer to the sides of her head, fully in view below her bouncy hair. Victoria ran her fingernails over her sleeker eyebrows amazed at the reflection looking back at her “I’m black!” she said to the mirror “I actually look like Laila!” She turned around in a quick and tight circle “This is unbelievable; I’m actually going to have her body. My wish is coming true!” Her shoulders began to rise up along with her entire body. Laila was about 4 inches taller than Tori at 5’7” and now Tori was gaining that height in her place. Tori yanked off her top and the contrast in her skin tone was jarring. Her neck and shoulders were darkening but her chest was pale white. Color began to filter in down her arms and down her torso. She shot a quick glance over her shoulders at her back and saw it too was growing tan. A smile crept across her wider mouth and she shivered, rising up onto her toes. Tori’s arms were growing longer and trimmer with more coiled muscle in them than before. Her skin continued to darken down to the backs of her hands and up her fingers. Her nails appeared to thicken and widen as her hands turned into Laila’s slightly larger hands. A bright green nail polish appeared on them as well “This is going further than I thought; I even have her polish now. She flicked her right hand back and forth taking in the contrasting colors of the dark back and the lighter palm. Tori felt her chest ripple in the first steps of its change. Her stomach pulled in tight and muscled reflecting Laila’s commitment to running and her breasts began to get smaller. She reached up and undid her bra strap and let it fall forward and off of her trim chest. Her nipples widened and they, along with her areolas, darkened as her breasts went from a 36C to a 34B. Tori’s jaw hung open as the new color of her skin now dominated her upper half. Laila felt as if the wind had been kicked out of her. Her eyes darted around and she saw the boots she had just tired on as a joke out of the corner of her eye “Did those do this to me?!” she panicked “I didn’t mean it…I’ve worn Tori’s clothes before…that doesn’t mean I turn into her though!” She slumped back down and sat cross legged on the floor, too weak to stand, her whole body trembling and numb. Her head was hung low and she could see the paleness creeping down over the top of her chest and down her arms. Laila felt her body shudder and pull inward as it shrank down four inches smaller. Her legs pulled in and up as they got shorter and her shirt rippled out as it slipped around on her shrinking torso. A few additional pounds came onto her shorter frame and her belly popped out softer and rounder taking away from her more fit physique. Her arms also got softer, especially up top as they shrank and changed shape and color. She played out her hands as they went to what was becoming her new skin tone; shrinking down as her fingers narrowed and got smaller. Her nails thinned and her polish vanished leaving behind opaque nails in their place. “No…this can’t be happening to me…why is this happening…I don’t want to look like Tori; I don’t want to be Tori. I don’t even know…I mean…” she threw her hands up in frustration “…I’m not white!” Laila’s breasts surged forward under her green shirt, stretching out her bra around her wider and heavier breasts. Laila managed to struggle to her knees and was balancing when her hips shot out and her ass pulled in. She dropped back and sat back down on her heels; her hands hovering over her new center. Her waist came outward and beneath her shorts she felt a new stirring sensation “Oh No!” she hissed through gritted teeth “Oh God!” A spasm wracked her body sending shivers up and down her spine and outward to her fingertips and the tips of her toes. Her legs shot out straight and the palms of her hands pressed down hard behind her. She threw her head back and her long hair tickled off her back as her eyes rolled back and her lip quivered. It was possibly the most intense feeling she had ever experienced as she felt moisture flood forward and her clitoris began to vibrate and pulsate. Her thighs slapped together as her knees kept coming together and apart and her toes curled. The dark skin lightened down the front of her shorts and beneath her panties as her body shifted and changed into Tori’s body. Skin slid against skin sending electricity out with each movement “Oh God” she repeated as sweat beaded up on her upper lip and forehead “No!” she moaned trying to hold back. Victoria bit her plump bottom lip as she wiggled her hips taking off her skirt. It feel off quickly and easily as her hips pulled inward, thinning down and narrowing. Her bare pale legs stood out below her as she stepped out of her pile of clothes. She saw goosebumps break out over them and she put her thumbs under the waistband of her panties. As she pulled on them, her ass began to lift up and round off, growing larger and curvier on her overall trimmer frame. The darker skin tones began to work down over her hips and outer legs. Tori’s mouth went dry and her knees came together and went weak. She slapped her dark hands down on her pale thighs and gripped tightly as her face showed the strain of transformation. A buzzing sensation took off under the front of her panties and she saw a wet spot begin to form and grow, spreading as spasms worked their way over her body. Her body was changing in the most intimate way into Laila’s body. Her skin darkened and skin shifted as her clitoris hummed into high gear “Oh God” she moaned. A hand slipped under her panties and a finger slipped inside able to feel her muscles contracting around it. A few quick flicks and rubs and a climax erupted in her. A bit of shame came with it but more pleasure than she had ever felt before was the payoff. “Oh…oh…uh…” she breathily said trying to regain strength in her legs. Sweat had broken out down the middle of her chest and she could see her dark skin glistening in the light. As her thighs shook and quivered, they trimmed and thinned becoming Laila’s legs. The reddish brown skin continued darkening and soon overtook her knees and lower legs as well. Her calves and knees popped and shifted with muscles pulling up tight. Only her bare feet remained white but that was now only a matter of time. She lifted her toes in anticipation as the tops of her feet began to tan and deepen in color tone. Her heels popped out and her feet grew a size larger while still becoming narrower at the same time. Her toes lengthened and the same green nail polish appeared on her thicker toe nails as well “Oh…Holy shit” she panted out “I’m Laila” Laila felt a few tears welling up in her eyes as her body calmed back down from the brink of orgasm. Her muscles relaxed and she was trying to breathe normally even as she watched the color drain from her plumping thighs. Her thighs grew rounder and fuller and softer as they turned pale like the rest of her. She pointed her toes as she remained seated on the ground watching her claves thicken and her knees pop and change shape. Her feet widened and shrank down a size as her heels spread and her toes shrank down smaller and shorter. They changed shape and her nail polish vanished from them too as thin and clear nails now resided at the ends of her small feet. Her ankles dropped outward and her feet hit the ground as Laila felt weak and faint again. Slowly, she eased down flat on her back and stared at the ceiling “This is a bad dream…that’s all it is…if I close my eyes…” her voice was changing even as she spoke to the empty room. Her voice sounded more nasal and was higher in pitch. She shut her eyes tight and held her breath for as long as she could. “I…” Tori began to say as she examined what her body now looked like “I’m black. I am a black woman” she said as her voice pitched lower and changed into Laila’s voice. She looked herself up and down in the mirror and by looking down. Her hands roamed around, touching and probing her skin and flesh. She flexed her arms and squeezed her breasts before it hit her “Oh shit! I can’t let my parents see me like this; I’ve got to get out of here!” She hastily put her clothes back on even though they didn’t fit her really well and packed up. She wrote out a long note saying that her roommate had gotten ill and she needed to go back and check on her; apologizing several times for leaving abruptly but also not wanting to disturb anyone’s sleep. Another thought hit her as she wrote “What if all of my wish came true? Did this happen to Laila in reverse; because if I look like her now, then she must…?” She grabbed her phone and started to pull her name up but stopped. Instead she crept quietly downstairs, placed her note on the kitchen table, and headed for her car. Luckily, she made it back to campus without getting pulled over. There would be no possible way to explain what was going on and she was sure she would have been hauled into jail. She pulled into her parking spot at nearly midnight and headed inside. The R.A. on duty smiled and waved “I didn’t think you had gone out tonight Laila” she said. “Oh…um…yeah” Victoria replied with a shrug “Just for a little bit” She headed for the stairs and raced up three flights. Her hands were shaking when she pulled out her key to open the door. She opened it a crack and peeked in “Oh God!” she said in a hushed voice as she hurried in and shut the door behind her. There, lying on the floor, was her. Tori stood over her own body like an odd out of body experience. Laila had turned into her and had passed out from the shock of it. Tori bent down and tapped her cheek “Laila…wake up Laila…it’s okay; I can explain; or at least I think I can explain what happened to us” Laila shifted and let out a snorting breath but didn’t come to. Tori crouched over her as she stirred” her leg kicked out and she tossed her head back and forth. Finally, her eyes fluttered and opened and she screamed. Tori clamped her hand down on Laila’s mouth to not wake everybody in the building up while saying “Sshhh…it’s okay Laila; it’s me…Tori” Laila kicked back and scooted out from under the person standing over her. She sat up and felt that blonde hair whip around again. She put her arms up and her hands out “Oh My God…I’m still white!” Laila now looked up and saw herself standing a few feet away; pure confusion set in “What…Who?” “It’s me Laila…It’s Tori! We switched bodies!” “But How?” Laila said trying to stand up. “I don’t understand how you…and we…and I…” She finally stood and realized she was looking up and into her own eyes “My God you look just like me” “I am you” Tori said “At least I think I am; physically at least” “And I’m you?” Laila said and turned to the mirror once more. She put her hands to her chubby cheeks and smooshed them around “I’m so…so…white!” “I know and I’m black now” Tori said a bit too cheerful. “What? Are you happy about this?” Laila asked. “I mean yeah…in a way I am…are you?” “I am freaking out here!” “Well, that’s expected I guess” Tori said. “Sit down; rest” she lead Laila to her bed. “What happened? Do you have any idea why this happened to us?” Laila asked. “Well; I wished that I could look like you; to see just what the world was like for you” Tori confessed. “You did What?!” Laila shot back at her. “Well you see I went home right and I saw a black guy pulled over for no reason and I got to thinking ‘This is my hometown and what was my whole world; What would it look like and how would I be treated if I looked like you?’” Victoria explained. “Then I went to the baby shower and the casual racism was all around and I started to picture how different everyone would be acting if I looked like you and was sitting in their midst and just how hypocritical people are” Laila leaned forward “So your solution was to wish that you could be me” “I didn’t think it would actually come true; not in a million years did I ever think I would just like, you know, start changing into you while standing in my old bedroom in my parents’ house” Tori told her. “So wish us back!” Laila said excitedly. “But…” Tori said disappointed. “But what?” “Don’t you want to be me? Aren’t you at least curious what it’s like to be…you know…white…even for a little bit?” Tori said. “No! I was born looking like; ugh…like what you now look like. That’s all I’ve ever known or expected to look like. Never crossed my mind to think about what it would be like to be a white girl” Laila said. “But we’re actually here now. We actually switched bodies. Isn’t that amazing?!” “Amazing yes…a miracle sure…but it’s not right. I’m me and you’re you…not the other way around” Laila said “Change us back…please; I’m begging you to change us back” “Well okay” Tori said. “Trust me; you have it way easier than I do and you would not last a day trying to be me. Please wish us back to normal” Victoria nodded and looked up “I wish I looked like me again and Laila looked like herself again. I wish we were back in our rightful bodies” They locked eyes but nothing happened. “It didn’t work” Laila said nervously “Try again” “Okay…um…I wish none of this had happened and we hadn’t changed. I wish we were back where we started out” Tori said. Still nothing. “I wish I was myself again and Laila was herself again” pause “I wish we switched our bodies back!” pause “I wish Laila was back in her body and I was back in mine” pause “I wish we could just swap back to how we used to be” “Nothing’s working” Laila said impatiently. “Well I don’t know; maybe it doesn’t work like that. Maybe we can’t just switch back…maybe a certain amount of time has to pass” Tori said. “Or we have to learn some kind of lesson in the other’s body like some cheesy ass movie plot” Laila said “No…I can’t…” “You are and I am too” Tori told her. Laila swallowed and shook her head. “I told you I didn’t mean for this to actually happen. I was just talking and thinking about what you have to put up with in this world and I wished that I could understand it. I never meant to hurt you” Laila sighed and slumped her shoulders “How did I get like this?” She looked over at Tori “I believe you when you say you didn’t believe this would actually happen” “How many times have you spontaneously swapped bodies with someone else?” Tori asked on the verge of tears “I’m sorry” “It’s okay” Laila said. “We’ll figure something out; we’ll be okay” They hugged for a minute before breaking apart. “I just can’t get over seeing you looking like this…like me” Laila said. “How does it feel to you?” Tori shrugged, her tight curls bouncing away “It feels good” Laila looked down at her pale arms and legs “I can’t; I don’t know if I can get used to this” “You might have to. I can apologize a thousand times for making that wish but, I don’t know if we’ll ever switch back. You might have to become Victoria Steiner from now on” Laila turned to the mirror again and took in her face. She stared and finally let out a long sigh “I don’t know…it’s taking everything I have to not freak out and scream right now” “I hope you get used to it” Tori told her coming up behind her. “You’re even taller than me now” “Well you were taller than me; height comes with the body” Tori shrugged again. They talked through the night, more intensely than they had even previously. They had gotten to know each other quite well during their time together, but now that process ramped up to intense levels. At 7 A.M., Tori’s phone went off “It’s my Mom! You have to answer it and be me for the first time!” Laila’s blue eyes widened in panic but she picked up the phone and hit the button “Hi Mom!” she said a bright and cheery as she could. Tori could hear her Mom freaking out on the other end; Laila let her go trying to butt in but unable for a full minute “I’m sorry Mom, I had to go. Laila was puking her guts out and scared as could be; she’s my best friend and I had to help her. Remember that’s what’s you’ve always taught me…I know Mom…I know Mom. I thought I was being good; you and Dad need your sleep…I’m an adult; you trust me to be at college you should trust me to drive home and take care of a friend” Laila looked at Tori for approval. Tori nodded. “I know and I’m sorry. If something like this happens again I will make sure I wake you up” Laila said. “So you’re saying that to make up for this I have to come back and visit again next weekend?” Tori covered her mouth in shock hearing this and then hearing Laila stumble over her response of “Um…okay. Can I bring my roommate Laila with me?” Tori’s mouth dropped even further as she heard the muffled response from her Mom “Of course you can; we’d love to meet her” After another few minutes of talking, she was able to end the conversation. “So how did I do?” she asked nervously. Tori flung herself forward and hugged Laila tight “We can do this! You can be me!” Laila accepted the hug while smiling wearily. “Yeah apparently next weekend for your Mom and Dad” “It will be fine” Victoria assured her. “Parents can tell when something is wrong; one of us will screw up; I just know it” Laila said. “No we won’t. We will be perfect and this will be my chance to go back and really see what it’s like” “So your wish?!” Laila said jumping up. “Maybe if you get to go back to your hometown as me and see your world through my eyes…maybe that could be the event to trigger our swap back!” “Wow…maybe it could. I could even make the wish in the same place I made this one” Tori said not sure she wanted to change back, but she would keep that to herself. The quizzes back and forth never stopped throughout the morning until Laila’s stomach rumbled. She got up and found nothing that she wanted in the mini fridge “I’m hungry” she declared. Laila looked up and raised her eyebrows and found Tori smiling back at her. Tori got up and grabbed her cafeteria card off the peg by the door “It’s all yours; Tori” Laila took Tori’s card and I.D. and pursed her thin lips together. She went to grab her own purse, but Tori took it from her. She pulled out her wallet and began to pull out anything with Laila’s name or picture on it. Then she took her own purse and did the same. “Time to swap identities” “Really” Laila replied but knew she had to do it. She took Tori’s purse and put in all of Tori’s cards; driver’s license included. “See you in a little bit” Tori told her. Laila sighed and looked nervous. She found her shoes and realized that they wouldn’t fit her now “Wardrobes too once we get this all straightened out” “My clothes fit your body now” Tori told her. She went to the closet and brought out a pair of sweat pants and some sneakers “It’s just the cafeteria on a Sunday” Laila put them on over her shorts and threw a jacket on as well. “Wish me luck” “Good luck Victoria” Tori said. Laila muttered under her breath as she went into the hall “She’s enjoying this way too much; so much more than I am” She went past the R.A. desk and waved “Just getting something to eat” “Okay Tori” came the response. The cafeteria was pretty empty when she went in and got in line to get some food. She swiped her card and no one looked twice at her as she took a seat and ate in quiet. Once alone in the room, Tori began going through Laila’s clothes, now her clothes and picked out a long tan skirt, brown top and brown sandals to put on. She was modeling it when Laila’s phone went off with a text. It took her a second before remembering that she had to answer it. Philip: Missed U last night; thought you were going to call me Laila: Sooooooo sorry got sick and fell asleep Philip: u ok? Laila: Am okay now, must have ate something bad L Philip: On my way to library… Laila: C U There! “My first chance!” Tori thought. She grabbed her backpack and purse and flew out the door. Tori arrived at the library in just a few minutes so she waited around outside on the steps. She smiled wide as she saw Philip approach. Philip was big; 6’4” and 220lbs and Victoria bounded over to him as he got closer “Hey” she said, her voice in a sing song that she couldn’t control. “You look fine” “Thank You!” she did a little twirl. “I was talking about your health” he laughed. “You said you got sick last night” “Oh yeah…it had to have been something I ate…once I you know, threw up, and got some sleep, I’m feeling fine” she said nervously. “You look nice too” Philip added “Why are you getting all dressed up for on a Sunday?” “Um…no reason. This is just what I felt like wearing” she added with a shrug “I can’t live in sweat pants all the time” He put his arm around her waist and her stomach fluttered as they walked in. They headed up the stairs to the back corner of the second floor where there wasn’t much traffic. They started at a table sitting across from each other. Philip was working out math equations while Tori read her assignment in basic psychology. She slipped her foot out of her sandal and boldly lifted it up and ran it up and down Phil’s calf. His eyebrows went up and he smiled. Tori smiled coyly and bit the end of her pen before giving up a shy and innocent sounding “What?” He chuckled and shook his head as he went back to work “You’re going to make me lose my concentration” “Maybe I’m trying to” she admitted with a playful shrug of her shoulders. She did calm down though and read her pages and filled out her worksheet while he finished his. They headed out and took a walk around campus together, chatting in the warm and sunny autumn day. Laila had finished her meal in peace and headed back to the dorm. Once in her room, she found it empty. “Where did she go?” she asked the four walls. Laila kicked off her shoes and peeled off her socks. Catching sight of her pale feet, she smirked this time instead of feeling her heart jump. She pulled the sweats down and off and thought “Let’s take a look at this” she thought. She pulled the green top up and off and looked at her stomach. Softer than before but still relatively flat, she poked a finger at it. She put her chin down to her chest and looked closely at her boobs “Definitely bigger” she said to herself. She popped her clasps around her back and let the bra fall. She lifted them up and examined her pink nipples before letting them fall and bounce back up. She made a satisfied face. Laila took down her shorts and panties and stood naked before the mirror. She squared up to the mirror, pulled her shoulders back and stood up tall, jutting her chin out and swaying her head to throw her long hair back off her shoulders. “So different” she thought “But yet…I bet I can go walk through a store without people watching me. I can drive, oh yeah…if I’m Tori than I have a car, and not worry about getting pulled over and if I do…” she pouted her lips and looked sad at the mirror “I’ll get out of any ticket with a face looking like this and, um, these” she touched her breasts again. “If she gets to see the world as a black woman than I get to see it as a white woman” she realized. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to seeing this face and I don’t know if I’ll ever like it” she still stared at the mirror “I feel like a traitor in a way. I feel like I ran away from who I really am but, I didn’t have a choice in this” She knew she was justifying what had happened to her in her mind and trying to not feel guilty about actually being curious to be Tori. Laila went to Tori’s bin and took out a pair of her panties and one of her bras, happy to be wearing clothes that fit. She put on some jeans, a brown and white top and brown slip-ons as she grabbed Tori’s purse and pulled out her car keys “If she can leave; so can I” A few minutes later, she got out of the car in the parking lot of Target. She need to pick up a few items and wanted to observe a few things. She walked in and smiled at the security guard who politely smiled back and dipped his eyes to her boobs. She giggled as she walked further in “That’s never happened before” No one watched her, no employees followed her for even a second and she lingered as long as she wanted in the makeup aisle trying to figure out what lipstick looked good on this face and what nail polish would work on her hands and feet. “I can wear black!” she realized with a grin. She got her soap and toothpaste which was what she came for before thinking “I guess dove will work on my new smell” Check out was a breeze using Tori’s debit card and she sauntered out to the car. On her way home, she purposely drove above the speed limit past a cop who looked up but didn’t make a move. Laila laughed all the way back to her room. Tori was waiting for her when she came in “Hi!” she said too loudly as Laila came in. “Hey…where did you go earlier?” Laila asked still unnerved at seeing what she still thought of as her body standing before her. “To the library; I finished my psych work” she said as plainly as possible. “You got all dressed up to do homework?” “Well, I did talk to Philip too” “You did what?” Laila said closing the gap between them. “What? He was waiting to hear from you last night and was worried. I told him you got sick and fell asleep. We just studied together and…” “And what?!” “And we took a walk around campus” “You did what? Philip is my…” “Your what?” Tori said. “This is a whole new issue that I don’t want to think about” “Well, if we’re living the other’s life then…” she lifted her shoulders. Laila was disgusted “I was just really getting to know Philip and now you’re going around with him like you’re…” “Laila” Tori interrupted. “He wanted to see Laila. I look like Laila; not you. Unless you want to explain what happened to us to him than you need to realize that I need to talk to him and act like everything is absolutely the same as yesterday” Laila threw her hands up in disgust and let out a sigh of exasperation “Whatever!” She turned her back and said “You’d better hope your wish next weekend at your house switches us back is all I have to say” Tori had no response. She kept quiet for a while as Laila stomped around the room and started to calm down. “Maybe I’m just upset that you don’t have a boyfriend that I can hang out with and make you jealous about” Laila finally said with a slight smile. Tori smiled wide “See; we’re going to get this figured out” and hugged Laila. Over the course of the week, both would notice little things being different. Tori dropped a pencil and the boy who had always looked at her with a smile ignored it and her, while Laila had men opening and holding doors for her everywhere she went. They attended their classes for the other and kept up every appearance through Friday. “So I guess I’m driving” Tori said as they lugged their bags downstairs and tossed them into the trunk of the car. “Well, I don’t know where I’m going so yeah” Laila responded. Tori got out her phone and saw a message from Philip: Why are you going country this weekend?” Laila: HAHA got to see how the other half lives don’t you think I’m a country girl Philip: NO!!!! Have fun and be careful Laila: HAHA I will Tori put away Laila’s phone in her purse and climbed behind the wheel. They sang along to the radio as they drove on, eventually having to switch to a country station which was one of the few stations that came in around Tori’s hometown. “We never went over song lyrics” Laila admitted as she stopped singing. As they were getting close to town, red and blue lights flashed to life behind them “Holy Shit!” Tori said with her stomach in her throat and her hands beginning to shake. Laila’s eyes went wide and she stared straight ahead in deep seated fear. Tori pulled over to the side of the road as nervous as she had ever been. She kept glancing in the rearview mirror until the officer got out of his car and began his slow walk up to the car. His right hand rested on the butt of his gun “Is this your car?” he said to Tori in a deep and booming voice more typically used by a Marine drill sergeant. “Um…no…it’s my friend’s car officer” Tori said as she nodded to Laila in the passenger seat. “Then why are you driving it and not her?” he asked. “Is there anything going on I should know about?” he leaned forward and addressed Laila in the passenger seat “Are you alright Miss?” “Yes…I’m fine…what are you asking?” Laila said. “I am asking if you are okay?” the officer pressed on. “Sir, my friend is driving because she wanted to learn the way to go to get to my house. We go to Miller and we’re coming home this weekend to visit her, um, my parents and I wanted her to drive so she could learn the way” Laila said trying to be as calm as possible. “Was I doing something wrong officer?” Tori asked. “Be quiet Miss, I’m speaking to your passenger; the owner of this vehicle” the officer snapped at Tori. “I just want to understand why she is driving your car” “I told you sir, we’re just coming down for a visit” Laila said. “I’m going to need to see your license” he said to Tori who grabbed for her purse “Slowly!” the officer reminded her. “And I need to see proof of insurance and your registration” Laila opened the glovebox without a word from the officer and Tori’s mind sunk in a little bit deeper “He’s treating me like a hardened criminal” she thought. “Was I speeding officer?” she asked. He stared at her for a full thirty seconds without moving a muscle before he simply took the documents and walked back to his car. Laila and Tori exchanged a look of shock before Laila nodded slowly “It’s always like this” she whispered “If you’re going to look like me, you’re going to get treated like me” “I had no idea” Tori admitted. “I know you didn’t; you can’t unless you experience it. I guess I never realized how blatant it was until now getting to see it from your perspective” The officer was coming back. “Are you Dan Steiner’s girl?” he asked handing back the insurance and registration to Laila. “Yes sir, that’s my Dad” Laila answered. “I knew your Dad back in school” he turned his eyes back to Tori who looked up at him with her wide almond shaped brown eyes. “Here’s your license back” he dropped it into her hand. “What did I do to get pulled over?” Tori asked again. “You need to shut your damn mouth before I do give you a ticket” he stared at her again. He turned his attention to Laila “You should take care of yourself” he said to her while giving a quick jerk of his chin in Tori’s direction. The officer walked away and Victoria swallowed hard. She slowly pulled off the side of the road but pulled into a gas station down the road because her hands and legs were shaking so badly. She broke down in tears as Laila rubbed her back. “Not as easy or as fun as you thought?” “No” she answered through sobs “I’ve never had anything like that happen to me before; no one has ever talked to me like that before” “And I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to it if you stay in my body” Laila confided in her. “I thought every traffic stop was like that, honestly, the way he treated me as opposed to you really shocked me too” “A guy like that…knows my Dad” Tori said. He treated you so much differently than me. If we had still been in our original bodies…” “He wouldn’t have even pulled us over. He only did that because he saw a black woman behind the wheel” Laila said. “Did he think; was he implying that I had kidnapped you?” Tori asked. “Yes” Laila replied. “And the gesture at the end was to say you were hanging out with the wrong type of people” Tori added. Laila nodded. She felt bad for Tori whose eyes were suddenly opening to a new world. The drove the last five minutes in silence until Tori pulled into the drive. Her Mom and Dad rushed out and ran to the passenger side of the car to hug Laila. Laila for her part smiled and hugged them back, playing the part of daughter as best she could as Tori awkwardly stood by, needing a hug at that moment more than any other time in her life. Laila backed up and said “Um, Mom…Dad; I’d like you to meet my best friend Laila” Sharon smiled at her daughter and said “It is so nice to meet you; Tori has told us all about you” Dan put his hand out to shake and Tori took it with a smile and a broken heart “Welcome to our home” he told her while shaking her hand “Come in, supper is almost ready so I hope you brought your appetite” Laila and Tori got their bags out of the trunk and walked up to the house. Laila stepped inside and looked around having never been there before but having to act like it was her happy place. Tori said “You have a lovely home Mrs. Steiner” “Why Thank You” she replied but not looking back as she headed to the kitchen “Come on in and sit down at the table” Tori went to her usual spot and Dan cleared his throat “Oh…is this where Tori sits?” she asked innocently enough. “It’s no big deal; she can sit there” Laila responded. As Sharon brought out plates of food, Laila went to reach for one before Dan said “Where are your manners young lady? Have you forgotten that we say grace before a meal here?” “I am so sorry” Laila said shooting a quick look to Tori to apologize. They locked hands and said grace. Sharon said “Why doesn’t our guest start us off?” Tori began to fill her plate and made sure she said how good everything was. “So are you going to head to the game tonight?” Laila looked up “Are they at home?” “They are and I know a lot of your old friends will be there” Dan replied. “Maybe we will head down there” she replied and she got a kick from under the table as a thank you from Tori. After they separated and went into the living room Tori said “Now we have to go” “Didn’t you want to see how your friends would react to you? I thought that was the whole purpose of your wish” Laila reminded her. “I know but…” “But after our run in with the cop now you just want to wish us back to normal” Tori nodded ashamed. “I think we should go…if for nothing else, it should solidify your desire to switch back. Honestly, I never wanted to be white and you’re tired of being black right. The novelty of it wore off real quick didn’t it?” Tori threw her head and shoulders back “Let’s go” she said grabbing the keys. “You sure you want to drive” Laila asked and Tori handed her the keys “I’ll tell you how to get there” Laila smirked her full pink lips and flipped her blonde hair back off her shoulders. “My Mom didn’t touch me; not even a handshake” Tori said. “Well, she doesn’t know you I guess” Laila said with a shrug. “No, you don’t get it. Every person I’ve ever brought home, she hugged them, but not me” Tori said “And my Dad’s handshake was as weak as I’ve ever seen” “He didn’t want to crush your little hand” Laila said. Tori just curled up in the passenger seat and stared out the window. The bright lights across town showed Laila where she was going; High School football. They pulled into the lot and saw the group of her old friends immediately. “Who’s your friend?” Laila heard screamed at her. Tori whispered “That’s Jenna” “Hey Jenna! This my friend from Miller; my roommate Laila” “Hi everybody” Tori waved shyly at her friends. They introduced themselves some with just waves or nods and only a few handshakes while Laila was hugged by everyone. Tori saw Mitch and Billy whisper to each other and laugh right after their introductions and she just knew they were talking about her. “Oh My God Can I touch your hair” a friend of hers named Melanie was on her and lightly tapping her curls before she could say a word. Melanie giggled and kept bouncing her ringlets until she backed up and smiled “That’s enough, thanks” she said. Melanie looked offended at being told to stop. She made a disgusted face and walked back to the back of the pickup where the beer cooler was and said something to Jenna. “I’m just being paranoid” Tori told herself “They’re not talking about me” Laila felt a hand on her upper arm and she was pulled back by Mitch “Why did you bring her here?” “She’s my friend” Laila said. “She sticks out like a sore thumb if you know what I mean” he told her softly with contempt in his eyes. “Whatever” Laila responded. What had been loud was quitter now as it seemed that the group quickly ran out of topics to talk about. Laila was offered a beer but Tori wasn’t. Laila offered her one and saw the glares from everyone. “No Thanks” Tori politely declined. She felt itchy and uncomfortable, she wasn’t paranoid; she was in the wrong place now. Laila played along with old stories as Tori was virtually ignored. Tori kept making eye contact with Laila every time someone whispered something into her ear, usually accompanied by a look her way. Tori was barely keeping it together; she wanted to cry, to scream, anything to break the tension. She was an outsider and could see for the first time, what that was all about. Laila could tell her friends’ level of comfort was at an absolute breaking point. “It’s been a long drive and day guys, I think we’re going to head home” she said. Tori smiled and waved “Nice to meet you” she said in a shaky voice. “You too” Melanie responded but it didn’t sound genuine. Laila was hugged again by everyone and Billy whispered something in her ear as she pulled away. Laila was blushing as they walked back to their car. “So what did he say?” Tori asked once inside. “You don’t want to know and I don’t want to repeat it” Laila said. “I’ve heard Billy use the word before; just tell me if that’s what he called me” Tori said. Laila nodded “And he wasn’t the only one…” Tori cried as they drove home and so did Laila. The house was quiet when they got there. The light was still on in Dan and Sharon’s bedroom as the two girls tiptoed past. They got to Victoria’s room and closed the door. Tori collapsed on her bed “I’m so sorry” she choked out. “It’s okay…you didn’t know; I didn’t know either” Laila told her “I had no idea really” “Neither did I” Tori said sitting up and wiping her eyes “I knew racism was rampant in this town but I couldn’t have even guessed just how bad it was” “Being on the other side is eye opening for me too” Laila admitted “It’s blatant when you see it looking like this” “It’s blatant when you’ve never experienced it and then boom, it’s all there all at once” Tori told her. They locked hands sitting across from each other on the bed “I wish I had never made this wish” Tori said with all the sincerity in the world “I wish for nothing else than to just go back to our normal lives” Tori gave a wan smile “I had fun during the week; on campus as you, but…I mean now that you know what it’s like to be me…do you even want to go back?” “Yes. Simply put…I’m used to all this horse shit; you’re not and I get the feeling that you never would be. So yes, I’m ready to go back to being me” Laila told her. “Then wish with me; I wish Laila and I were back to ourselves. I understand now and I promise I will do everything in my power to make more people understand. I’ve learned my lesson and now I wish I could just go back to being me again” Tori said. “I wish that your wish comes true. I’ve seen the other side and so have you; I wish we would switch back into our real bodies” Laila said. She added with a smile “It’s not all bad though…I wish you could have got to spend some time with my family in my body” “Would I have heard comments about white people?” “Only if my one uncle showed up” Laila admitted which made Tori laugh. “My selfish reason for wanting to change back though is that I don’t know if I could not have another hug from my own Mom” That brought a tear to Laila’s blue eye. She blinked and wiped as her eyes flashed, changing to brown. Tori buried her face against Laila’s shoulder as one by one, her hairs turned blonde and began to straighten back out. Laila’s eyes were closed as she held and comforted her friend; her blonde hair began coarsen and thicken before turning black and beginning to rise up into tightly wound coils. She winced and shut her eyes tighter as they lengthened and became almond shaped. Tori’s tears had brought her a runny nose that was shrinking and thinning across the bridge and pulling up at the tip. She wiped it and stopped as she felt her skin ripple under her fingers. Victoria shot back out of Laila’s arms. She pressed her hands against her cheeks as hard as she could feeling the bones lift and pull in under her fingertips. She stretched her mouth and chin down as low as she could feeling her mouth shrink and her lips thin. “Oh My God!” she yelled grabbing Laila by the shoulders “Look at my face! I think it’s changing!” Laila’s eyes widened “Oh My God they are! I mean it is!” Color was draining out of Tori’s face and her tightly wound hair was beginning to pop out and fly wild around her face, changing from black to blonde as it went. “You too!” Tori yelled as Laila’s hair pulled up and she regained her skin color. Her nose broadened and her mouth grew out. Her teeth grew and shifted as her chin and jaw changed back taking her cheeks and ears with them. Laila jumped up and rushed to a mirror. Her jaw dropped at the sight of seeing her own face again. “Thank You…” she whispered to the reflection. Color came back to her arms as they lengthened and muscled and to her chest as her breasts shrank and changed back into her own. Laila was growing taller as she stood with her chest and back narrowing and her stomach streamlining in. Tori joined Laila at the mirror. Her face continued to change back into her own as she approached. Her chin rounded and her jaw softened along with a lot of the rest of her body. She shrank down several inches in height, her back and chest widened and her arms shrank back all the while her skin color paled. Her breasts grew out, straining Laila’s bra to capacity as her stomach softened and her hips spread outward. Her ass flattened and her thighs plumped while she saw Laila’s press outward, lifting her pants out as they went. The two exchanged a knowing glance as their bodies changed back. Laila’s clitoris hummed into high gear “Not again” she mumbled as her skin shifted and rearranged itself. Tori’s hand went to her front but stayed outside of her clothes as she squirmed through her vaginal shift. Laila’s longer legs thinned and trimmed down all the way to her feet, regaining their own size, shape and color again before finally her feet changed shape back as well. She spread her hands out in front of her face as they thinned and lengthened out. Tori’s legs shrank up and plumped out as they changed back into her own and her feet widened back as well. “I’m back” Laila said. “I’m back” Tori repeated. “It worked…it really worked” She turned to Laila “I am so sorry for putting you through all of this; I never meant…” “Shhh” Laila shook her head “It’s over: We’re back and I think we both learned some things that could be very helpful in the long run” Tori sniffed and wiped her eyes and nose with a tissue she grabbed from her dresser. “I liked being you in a way but…” Laila looked around the room and put out her arms “There’s no place like home”  
  5. Race Queen by TOXIS (dg, iq, racial change) RACE QUEEN by TOXIS This is a mistake. I never should have taken their money but it was so much money. When was I going to make $1 million in one year ever again? I was so sure I was doing the right thing. Now look at me. Let me back up. Eighteen months ago, I was the newest partner in a major New York law firm, only 26 years old, one of the best and brightest. I was drop dead gorgeous but in a professional way. I knew it too knew. In college and law school, I kept getting offers to model. I turned them all down because the real money, the big money is in international trade. So I spent all my time at fund- raisers for politicians hosted by Far East business types. Korea, Singapore, Hong Kong, Japan – especially Japan. So closed, so male dominated, so very much money to be made there. I had noticed something that I was sure I could use. Of course, when I went to one of these trade things, I was dressed like a movie star – only the very best designer gowns, exactly the right accessories. Everyone looked but Japanese men stared. They ignored the other women but they talked with me. They paid attention when I said I was becoming an attorney. Some gave me their business cards and told me to call them when I was in practice. When I did, they hired me. Small matters, true, but unlike most new lawyers, I walked into my new firm with clients. I made partner in 18 months. Fastest ever, male or female. In fact, I was asked if I was interested in opening one of a series of Far East offices. It looked like Japan was taken but I had my choice of Thailand, Korea or Bhuttan. No way was I taking a backwater. I called Seiji Herakini, president of OTTII Industries, and explained what was happening. Seiji is a major client. He wanted me in Japan and expected the firm to give him what he wanted, including 100% of my time if that's what he needed. In short order, I was in Kobe with the firm's managing partners to meet with Seiji and firm up our planned services for his company. Seiji was having trouble establishing a modern image for his old line specialty steel facrication business. He needed an attorney who would be part of the team effort to break the mold and create a new identity that attracted the younger purchasing managers in his customer base. I had to be totally on board with that concept and the firm had to recognize that I was putting OTTII before it and myself to get this done. I was very enthusiastic and grudgingly the old fools running the place agreed. Well, I thought then that they were fools. Now, they look pretty smart. I had good reason to be enthusiastic. Seiji had given me a bonus agreement that paid me $400,0000 after six months and $1 million after a year if I met all goals. I did have some reservations when I read the bonus goals. It struck me as odd that I would have to (1) learn to speak Japanese in the manner OTTII wished, (2) learn Japanese etiquette the same way, (3) accept, maintain and wear the wardrobe supplied (at no cost) by OTTII, (4) comply with OTTII's exercise schedule, (5) adhere to the personal appearance (hair, makeup, jewelry, perfume, etc.) designed for me by OTTII and (5) be available at OTTII's convenience for publicity video, photography, personal appearances, interviews and the like. I would be paid an additional $10,000 to license my personal likeness to OTTII. When I asked, Seiji's PR assistant explained that the Company intended to put its most noteworthy people out in the public's eye, explaining OTTII's commitment to change. They wanted to be able to exploit those executives who made the greatest impact. I figured how can I lose. I get better than $1 million for doing what the legal work they want and letting them take my picture while I do. With any luck, I would be a celebrity when I came home. After two weeks, I was worried. No one gave me any work. I sat in my office and waited for something to happen. Nothing did. I was getting more and more nervous when a Miss Sanjuko introduced herself. She apologized for the delay but everyone was so busy. She was my designated OTTII mentor. I read a letter from Seiji explaining that Suki (her first name) spoke with his voice. I was to follow all of her directions faithfully, immediately and without question. I imagined Seiji in a military uniform giving orders. I made a small joke to that effect but either Suki found it not funny or she had no time for humor. Tea arrived. I thought it was too bitter but Suki insisted we have some to start our relationship. I finished mine but now, I can't remember if Suki ever really touched hers. She explained that we had several appointments that afternoon. I got up to leave when Suki stopped me to say that I would have to change into the clothing in the conference room. In a few moments, I was looking at myself in the mirror. I felt a little dizzy, disoriented is the better word. I was dressed in a most revealing micro-mini. The jacket was a little neon-blue bolero over a white, sleeveless, ribbed turtleneck. My stockings were white with matching blue platform pumps, sporting five inch heels. Suki pulled my hair back and under a blue satin baseball cap, my long blonde ponytail bouncing away. There were OTTII logos on the cap, on my jacket buttons, even on my shoes. My hands felt awkward as we winded down a crowded street in the Ginza. I usually carried a briefcase. We stopped at a nail salon and soon I had one-inch tips with white, blue and black swirls. A gold OTTII logo was crazy-glued dead center in the middle of every nail. Then, I was sitting in a different salon's chair, getting my hair cut. I have very thick, dirty blonde hair. I curl it because its so straight. First, they washed and conditioned my hair twice and parted in in the middle. Using a laser (I swear to God, a real laser), they trimmed my hair mid-way between down my shoulder blades. I had to wear special glasses when they did my new bangs – heavy but only to mid-forehead. Using a little penlight laser, they trimmed my eyebrows into skinny arches. As we left, the receptionist handed me a pair of sunglasses. Suki indicated that I should try them on. The lenses were very oversized and tinted a light blue. I thought that I could see images, words very faintly in the lenses. The obligatory OTTII logo was on the lower corner of my right eye and where the white and black frames came together. The rest of the morning became a blur. We stopped at a make-up shop, and there were accessories and scarves and gloves. I was carrying a big square black patent pocketbook done up to imitate a briefcase. It had the OTTII logo as the clasp. I caught my breath when we arrived at the Japanese tutor. She was at least 70 years old and nasty. Hokimini-San would going to teach me Japanese manners and language. I would learn. I would be punished if I was stupid or lazy. No lie, that's how she talked. Her English was perfect, if too stiff but she was pretty stiff herself. We began with walking. Take little steps. Hands at your sides, wrists forward as you walk. Hips swing all the time. Chin up. Smile. Lean a little forward. Let your rear stick out in back a little. Whenever you talk, touch you mouth. Whenever you meet a man, look down first, smile, look up without lifting your head, smile again, touch your mouth and say hello. All the time, I had to repeat the things she was teaching me to say. Homikini-San explained that Japanese was a very old language. It had three levels - the honorific for speaking to Buddhist priests and the Royal family, formal for speaking to one's betters and the vulgar, the language of business. I would learn the vulgar. It contained many expressions that had evolved over time. Expressions that taken alone might be considered offensive but now were perfectly acceptable, indeed required. I walked across the room to a full size photo of a man and said (in vulgar Japanese) "It is good to see you again, Mr. Smith. I hope that looking at my sexy body gives you a big erection." When I balked at saying something so humiliating, I found myself on her front steps on a busy street, wearing a dunce cap and repeating "I am a very stupid and lazy female. I hope my sexy body gives the men who see me big erections so that I will not be entirely useless." I was so embarrassed whenever anyone looked at me. At the time, I didn't object; it seemed normal somehow. Sitting at a meeting, someone finishes their coffee, I get up. I shimmy to the man's place and lean forward. I do not bend my legs. I take the man's empty cup and say "I do not understand the important things that you men discuss and I will make myself more useful by filling your coffee cup. I hope you like the way my tastelessly short skirt shows off my sexy body." Then we came to giggling. Homikini-San says that I must learn to giggle. Never laugh. I must giggle to show that I approve of what men are saying. I can show that I do not understand, that I will do as told, that I am finished a task, that I want men to look at me and find me sexy, that I am awaiting their next wish. I never giggled in my life. Well, maybe when I was like five and in kindergarten. Have you ever walked up to a complete stranger (male, of course) on a public street … you come close, taking mincing steps in your five inch heels.. Your hips swing as you go … you look down at the man's shoes and count to two, look up under batting lashes … smile, touch your lower lip with your right hand … hold your left hand out sightly, wrist up, begging …<giggle> "Sir, I am very silly and I do not know where I am." <giggle> "Can you tell me how to go to my work? I will be punished when I get there because I am so stupid and lazy." <sigh, giggle> The man usually laughs I hated that they were allowed to laugh when I could not. "I see you work for OTTII. A good company. You are very lucky to have such a good job." I smile. "OTTII is the best, most modern company in the world. I do not deserve to work there but they are kind and will give a person with no good education like me a chance." They like to ask me about America. "I come from a very dirty and degenerate city where women are rude and useless. I am so glad that I am in Japan and can act properly." Homikini-San would be a step behind me listening. There is always a pot of tea going. I sip a little all day. I used to feel confused a lot, spinning almost, but that settled down. If I don't have a cup of tea every so often, I feel sick. Homikini-San was always after me. If I fudged a single insulting line, if I failed to smile at one condescending remark, I would be punished. I followed Suki from the Mercedes to the grandstand. I could hear the sound of motors, race cars. Yesterday, she brought me to a salon that specializes in make-up. My face is very pale now and painted much like a doll's. My hair was tinted a silvery platinum. It falls thick, silken down my back. If my hair was black, from behind you would think I was Japanese. I wished many men big erections when they saw my sexy body in my tasteless clothes. OTTII is the best company in the world. I am too stupid to understand and too lazy to deserve such a good job. I jumped up and down when OTTII cars won. And I never stopped giggling. In the car, I told Suki that I had had enough. I had been thinking about it - or thrying to - for a while. Turning me into some sort of Japanese Barbie doll was not part of the deal. Give me my $500,000 and I was out of there. Suki explained that the firm had been required to post a $1 million bond against my performance. If I quit, the firm had to pay the million. When I transferred, I had signed an agreement with the firm that I was responsible for losses caused by my failure to adhere to the terms of my deal with OTTII and Seiji. She said that if I quit, I would be ruined for life. I had to ask her to repeat what she said because it was really complicated. I thought I got it on the third repeat and got so totally like made and I cursed. I tried to hit Suki, but she knocked me down easily. Homikini-San took a wide wooden paddle to my ass while Suki watched and took pictures. Homikini-San took pictures of me kissing Suki's high heeled toes. I was dressed in a way-too-tight T-shirt. My belly was bare. There were little red vinyl hot pants, white anklets and knee high white, platform soled, six inch heeled boots. I stood on a busy corner in front of a popular sushi restaurant. The restaurant's name was on my T-shirt. I held a big poster showing the menu. "Eat at Honji's Mountain Restaurant. The sushi is more succulent that my sexy body. Watch me while you eat and show me how big you are." I knew what I was saying and said it all day, and the next and the next. On Thursday, Suki noticed that I had run out of resistance, simply did not hold back. I minced about. I smiled at the men and said all the humiliating things I was told to say. I watched the men coming out and congratulated those whose buldging hard-ons were evident. I found myself at the race track in my horrible corner girl outfit. Men were drinking and smoking cigars. Suki pushed me to my knees before a young man in a dark suit. I looked up at her, confused. "Eat him," she directed. Blindly, I fished his thickening rod out of his pants and put it in my mouth. Suki began to instruct me. When to suck him in and when to pull back. Suck hard enough to hollow your cheeks. Look into his eyes. Suki taught me what to say, how to say it. Put his hard cock against my cheek. Giggle. "Oh sir, I love the taste of your member in my mouth. It is so big that I can hardly contain it. Please let me swallow your tasty sperm. I know that I will have a big orgasm myself." Why did I say it? I guess by now I knew that whatever Suki said was right. She was always right and I was just too silly and confused to know anything. I didn't see her with the palm-sized digital video camera, framed to capture me only. I saw the video later. I looked like a complete slut. After I swallowed the first man's cum, I thanked him. Suki had me offer myself to the remaining men. I wiggled out of my hot pants while they watched. I spread my legs and rubbed myself so that they would not have to endure a dry hole. I told them how wet I was getting. In turn, I mounted them and gave each a wild, bucking ride. Suki critiqued my performance until I was exactly what she wanted, a giggling, insatiable whore. At least on video. I sat in my room, dejected, pouting. How could this have happened to me? I was too smart to be trapped like this but I felt trapped. All my clothes, my shoes, my make up, jewelry, the shows that came over cable TV, the music I could play, what I could read – Suki picked them all. Mostly, I watched auto races. I read cheap romances. I dressed however Suki wanted me and went where she took me. I got used to the sex. I was so bored and it was the only fun in my life any more. I started to enjoy the sex. I found myself trying to look sexier that Suki had decided. On the street, I looked to see men stare at me and smiled, happy now, when they did. Lots of them had big erections, all for me. I sat very still when Dr. Hajji, a Pakistani, did my lips and nipples. Japanese women would not do this and certainly never see a foreigner. Suki explained that I did not matter because I was not Japanese, so a foreign doctor was okay. He was cheaper and he did a lot of work for foreign girls who were not pretty enough. I am very pretty. I do not need anything done to me. I begged Suki not to do this to me but whipped my nipples until I begged to see Dr. Hajji and pleaded that Suki guide me on just what I needed to do in order to make men think I am pretty. My lips are very full now. I have D cup breasts naturally but now my nipples are very thick and jut through all of my tops. Even the leather bras. "I am very pretty now. I can see my nipples. They are fat and men know that I always want to have sex. Men will want to put their big members in my mouth because my fat lips looks like I have a cunt on my face." No exactly Shakepeare but repeat it in front of a mirror long enough and it grows on you. Seiji saw me in his private conference room. I was in my newest OTTII uniform. A neon blue thong-cut unitard that came under my breasts that were covered by a skimpy white bandeau. The obligatory OTTII satin baseball hat, white boots, big glasses. Now, I wore big disc earrings made in the shape of the OTTII logo. Everything was OTTII. Even my hair. Streaks of neon blue and black had been painted in my hair. Suki had drilled me for the meeting for a week. "Oh, Herakini-San, I am so excited to see you." When I was a lawyer in New York, Seiji had been my close ally. I am in Japan and I have learned how wrong I am. Herakini-San is a powerful man, a demon god astride Mount Fuji. I am a stupid, lazy girl. Suki beat it in to me. I am inferior to all men. I am no attorney. I am no partner in my firm. No man wants a silly girl as a partner. Men do not respect me. They do not listen to the useless ideas that float aimlessly in my empty head. I giggle helplessly and approach Herakini-San. My feet take tiny steps. My left hand flutters like a butterfly begging for attention. The painted long nails of my right hand trace a slow arc across my lips. I look down. I did try to resist. I stopped drinking the tea and I was very sick but I was not so confused anymore. I tried to escape and Suki brought me back. She put me in a brothel and made me beg for men to please. No one wanted me. I could see their big erections. I asked to suck them. I told them I was very good. They ignored me. On the pavement by the entrance, I wiggled my hips and showed men my shaved cunt. They just laughed at me and went by. I was so excited and wet but no one would take me. Suki took me to a photographer. Japanese love to take pictures of their women in bondage. I was dressed in ropes and leather and rubber and vinyl … beaten, fucked, pissed on. Lots of pictures. Suki made sure that I smiled in lots of them. No escape now. Not with those pictures. Law firms don't have women partners who pose for dirty, nasty pictures of men pissing on them as they smile and drink it down. "Herakini-San, my tight pussy is very wet just being in your presence. Do my big nipples and sexy bottom give you a big erection?" Herekini-San laughs and claps his hands. "You have done excellent work, Suki. I particularly like her Japanese." I do not understand but that is to be expected. Suki explains that I do not speak Japanese like a real person. I speak like the cartoon girls on the anime shows on TV that I am allowed to watch. My voice is much too high-pitched. I speak to quickly and prissily to be anything other than a silly girl. I do not know any other way to speak. What can I say? "What is your name," Herakini-San demands. I blush and giggle. Suki changed my name about a month ago. I still hate it. Riki. It's a dirty joke. Riki..usually pronounced as "Lickie." I'm a little licky girl. "My name is Riki, Herakini-San." I pronounce my new name, as Suki prefers, saying "Lickie." "Do you like working for OTTII, little Riki?" "Oh yes, I love OTTII. It is the best company in the world. I would do anything for it." Herakini-San smiled and I was not so much afraid. "That is good. You see, we have a problem. The most famous symbol of OTTII are its racing cars. People all over the world know OTTII because of its race cars. I wanted to have a special Race Queen for my race cars. I tried to hire an American girl like you but they were all disrepectful and rude. I am pleased to see that under Suki's attentions you are well behaved." I blushed again uneasily, not at all sure where this was going. It was so hard to concentrate. "So I have a problem, Riki who is so helpful. You can stay and become my newest Race Queen. I will put you in many new costumes and you will be at all of the races. I will put your face all over Japan and you will be famous. Or you can leave. You know what your agreement provides. I have contacted your firm and they wish you to remain here." Herakini-San looked at me closely. I could see his enormous erection tenting his pants. Suki reminded me that I was not smiling and hurriedly I giggled and simpered. "I will allow you to sign a new contract replacing your present one. Our agreement has five months to run. I will cancel it and you can sign a new one. I will still pay you a million and change the term to three." Herakini-San looked to Suki. "Tell Riki how this is better for her." Suki made me stand on a little pedestal. I repeated what she told me to say. "This is a much better arrangement. I want to be OTTII's new Race Queen. I want to stay. I do not want to go back to America. I will be famous and everyone will know me. My name is Riki, only Riki. Thank you to OTTII and Herakini-San for this opportunity." I asked what the million meant and what three was - days, months? Suki spanked me and made me sign. Even though it wasn't true, she made say how happy I was with my new agreement. It was all on digital video. Before I was back with my teacher, that bitch Hokimini-San, a carefully edited video of my recent reeducation and new life was streaming to my old firm. The agreement was for three years and I was paid a million yen. After taxes, the cost of new uniforms, training fees and the like, I owed OTTII about $400,000 US. The engines are roaring. It's a very big race. I am wearing my latest uniform. It changes regularly. My new DD cup breast are molded in big, high orbs, jutting through my blue latex cropped T-shirt. White latex hot pants, thigh high boots, tall heels and thick platforms. My hair is pulled to the top of my head and comes out the hole in the top of my pretend race helmet. Logos everywhere. I carry the tray of drinks over to Herakini-San and his guests. They are all powerful men from America. They are not as smart and powerful and Herakini-San but any of them is smarter that a silly Race Queen like me. I set down the drinks. I giggle and catch their eyes. I trail my long nails up my thighs. I touch my hard nipples and my pouting lips. I ask in Japanese "Would any of the gentlemen like me to attend to their beautiful members? I see that I have given them huge erections and it would be rude of me to not help them." Suki translates into English. I wear earplugs under my helmet. She has turned off the sound so I do not know what she has said. I only speak cartoon Race Queen Japanese. Suki tells me that several want to use my mouth. I giggle and work my way carefully down the line. I know the next man. He seems almost afraid to use me. I beg for the honor and Suki translates. I want to run away. I do not want to be shamed this way. What will these men say tomorrow? "Please, sir, use my mouth. I am very good and many men have told me how much they enjoyed my mouth." I smile, near tears. Suki is watching me like a hawk. He nods and I go to work. Soon, he is thrusting his hips up and I can feel his orgasm overcoming him. I begin to buck my hips and moan as if I too am orgasming, just from the pleasure of sucking him off. Carefully, I clean him off and restore his clothing. I go to the next man and leave the managing partner of my old firm. Tomorrow, he will tell everyone what I have become. Not just a model in Japan but a business whore. Suki has me sign papers. Some are in Japanese, some English. I cannot read them. Suki explains that I have resigned from my firm and as an attorney. I have signed powers of attorney to her that will let her sell everything I own. I have signed another paper directing that she spend all of my money on my future education. Another paper changes my name to OTTII Riki. Finally, I stand in front of two men - one Japanese and the other American. Suki makes me say that I renounce my American citizenship and ask to be a citizen of Japan. More papers are signed, by me, by them. In another room, Suki explains. You are OTTII Riki now, only her. You are Japanese. You are a Race Queen and Herakini-San's personal plaything. You speak only Japanese. You are a nothing girl and you will do as you are told." I could run back to my American friends, ell them what was done to me, beg for their help. But Herakini-San would only offer them money to forget me and they would. Now, I am OTTII Riki, the famous Japanese Race Queen. I am waiting to see the doctor. He is going to do my eyes. Not slanted in a beautiful way, a Japanese way. Big eyes like the anime, pop-eyes, staring, vacant. Then, they will start on my hips, stomach and thighs. Sculpting me. My tits are so round and full; it's as if someone sewed big, hard balls inside them. OTTII is making me perfect like its race cars. Gleaming, a pleasure to use and drive well. If you write to OTTII, they will send you my new poster.
  6. Darpana by Tang (race change; courtesan) Hindi words and slang used in this story bhaganasa - clitoris betee – daughter, but used derogatively by outsiders choli – tight ladies top, leaving midriff bare chotli - jewel wound into a hair plait chunni – clit daffadar – mounted Indian sergeant in the British forces darpana – mirror darsildo - dildo dupatta – long pashmina like scarf gagra – long skirt often embroidered laung - jewelled nose stud lavde - cock oddiyanam - tight metal belt worn by ladies tikka - diadem jewel worn on the hairline, resting on the forehead yonee - pussy Finest flower/cloven inlet – British Victorian terms for pussy Darpana India, 1857 Wilhelmina Deering looked out once more from the carriage. With its heavy black clouds, the sky above was still threatening. The air had that irritating feel that came before a storm and Wilhelmina wished that it would break. At least it would spare her from the heat and from the dust which appeared able to penetrate wherever it chose. Then again, she reflected, the rains no doubt would wash away the road and make progress hazardous. She wondered how long it would be until the first overnight stop. She now wished she had paid more attention to her father’s instructions. When her father, Colonel Josiah Deering had first been assigned by the Company to this part of the country, Wilhelmina had not been averse to living at his residence ‘up country’. The cities they had passed through had seemed so noisy and with a noxious smell of one kind or another around every corner. However, not only had Wilhelmina found herself deprived of all but occasional European company, but now that this ‘mutiny’ was breaking out among the Sepoys, she appeared to be at greater risk than if she could have retreated into the fort of even a smallish town. Naturally it had been thought best to get Wilhelmina away to safety first; to Company friends of her father’s based in Kanthapura. Servants would follow on with the range of household items and other possessions that her widowed father was loath to leave to the risk that they would be stolen. Her father, of course, would have to wait for orders from Bombay before he could move. Most likely it seemed that he would be ordered somewhere to put down an uprising or simply to keep the peace. Across from her in the carriage sat Wilhelmina’s ayah, Pari. While Wilhelmina was too old for tutors any more, her father had kept the old Indian woman who had once served as his daughter’s nanny, as a readily available chaperone. Not that Wilhelmina had much opportunity for mixing with unattached young men. There was Lieutenant Richard Carter that she had taken a shine to. However, any opportunity to socialise with him would have to wait now until the situation settled and he returned from whatever duty her father commanded him to carry out. **** Wilhelmina seemed to have been lulled asleep by the heat and the motion of the carriage. However, now, abruptly, she woke up. Quickly she looked around her wondering what had disturbed her and then out of the window. “Ferraghur.” Pari said cryptically. “Sorry Pari?” Wilhelmina asked, wondering if the elderly lady was still half asleep herself. “Ferraghur.” The Indian woman repeated but this time turned to point out of the window. Now Wilhelmina realised that she had been too focused on the sky to see what they were approaching on the ground. Ahead she could see a structure, a series of red stone buildings appearing to be growing vertically from the living rock; its walls the same shade as the escarpment it stood upon. It dominated the landscape right around. As they slowly moved closer to it, Wilhelmina wondered how it might be accessed. She pondered who might live there. India seemed to have a ruler every ten miles or so. Was it a fortress or a palace? Wilhelmina felt her mind wandering and thinking that this easily looked like something from a fairy story or one of the countries Lemuel Gulliver could have visited. She envisaged that up there, some wizened alchemist was trying to squeeze sunlight from cucumbers. A rumble and a crack demanded Wilhelmina’s attention and she turned to look the other way; back to the clouds. The storm had begun. How far away was it? A few miles, it seemed. The clouds looked to be rolling quickly towards them and with that speed she imagined that in less than an hour the rain would be upon them. She could sense that the horses were skittish, but the driver whipped them to greater speed. Wilhelmina imagined he was hoping to out run the storm or, at least, get them into the cover of a rock face rather than out here exposed. The storm caught them in less than half-an-hour. Looking at Ferraghur, it seemed to Wilhelmina that they had made very little progress in that time, though rationally she told herself it was because the plain was so wide and the outcrop so high. The windows were already closed on the carriage even though it made it so stuffy inside. Now she pulled down the blinds as if that would further protect them. The flashes of lightning still were still apparent all the same. The carriage was buffeted and Wilhelmina was uncertain how much that was from the wind and how much from the driver still trying to get to wherever he felt they would be safe. Pari was muttering something in her own language. Wilhelmina went over to her and pressed herself against her side like a calf with a cow and just how she had behaved when she had been frightened as girl. The scent of the old woman, some fragrance and the spiciness of the food she favoured, provided a reassurance to Wilhelmina. Still, she kept her eyes closed tight but sought to ride out whatever jolts came to the carriage. Abruptly, however, it was as if the world had been disrupted. The squeal of distressed horses sounded clearly and the shouts of the driver and the boy who rode with him came even above the noise of the storm. The carriage wobbled and everything slid to one side. Pari grasped the window frame tightly, but Wilhelmina, half in a doze, slipped moments before the carriage crashed down. Wilhelmina was thrown into the side of the carriage and then, as she tried to get up, something heavy crashed down, hitting her head and taking her into darkness. Anonymous 06/02/17 (Fri) 12:46:20 No.1614 Wilhelmina was conscious of light and softness. A gentle breeze disturbed long but light curtains. For a moment she wondered if she was in Heaven; whether she would see her grandparents here. However, she was soon conscious of the soreness of her head. The light, she was sure, was the light of India and as she became more conscious, the heat was familiar too. She was sure Heaven was like a Somerset manor house with a lush garden with almost permanent parties and fine balls whenever night fell. It was not going to resemble anywhere in central India. As Wilhelmina sat up she saw that she was in a fine bed with light cotton sheets and even a silk counterpane. This was no village headman’s house. She felt sure she must be in that red castle-palace of Ferraghur and under the protection of whatever great man resided there. It seemed likely that in the current dispute he was loyal to the British otherwise she would have imagined herself killed where she was found or at best shackled in the dungeons which she sure lay beneath her, carved out of the red rock. “You are awake.” Wilhelmina felt startled for a moment. Then a tall, slender Indian woman walked in from the side. Most local women Wilhelmina had seen were elderly or young serving girls. Others she had passed had largely been peasants, prematurely aged by the burdens of work. This woman was none of those things. Perhaps she was in her thirties, maybe older. She certainly had an elegance about her, perhaps even a nobility. Her skin was the dark tan shade typical of the country; her hair was long and glossy black; her eyes a deep horse chestnut brown. Her face was long, a narrow oval, with strong straight features that seemed in just the right balance for beauty. Her neck was long but echoed her slender arms, body and legs. Wilhelmina wondered if this was a princess or a noblewoman, perhaps some functionary of whoever ruled here. Her clothes certainly spoke of wealth. She was dressed in a rose pink dress, but then Wilhelmina saw that it was in two parts- a tight fitting top which ceased beneath her bust leaving her midriff bare and then a long skirt, but held tight to her by a broad metal belt at her hips. A chiffon green drape hung from her shoulder, and was tucked into the belt. Jewellery was all around her, from the gold stud in her nose, to the heavy earrings, to the long necklace of pearls and gold to the bangles on each wrist. As she moved it was with the shimmer of sound of delicate metal. In contrast the white cotton shift that Wilhelmina wore seemed dowdy. The woman sat on the end of Wilhelmina’s bed and gave a wonderful smile that the English woman felt chased away all concerns. “I am Lakshmi.” The woman said. “I am Wilhelmina, Wilhelmina Deering. My father is Colonel Josiah Deering.” Wilhelmina responded as if reciting it was some kind of protection. “I could see that you were a fine lady.” Lakshmi responded. “Have no worries, you are at Ferraghur, a guest of the Rajah. He has assigned me to look after you. As you can imagine with all the current … incidents, he is a busy man.” “How long have I been here?” “You were not conscious for some days. The Rajah’s doctor tended you, but he said you’d probably wake today.” “And Pari, the driver, his boy?” “They are fine. Some cuts, some bruises, but nothing serious. The Rajah’s men righted your carriage and they headed back to your father, to tell him you are here.” Wilhelmina felt rather abandoned in a place where she now knew no-one. She worried to that once she had left, her father had been ordered to move on to wherever he was needed to combat the rebels and Pari would not be able to find him. She supposed it was better than him simply hearing rumours of what had befallen the carriage. It was certainly better than her waking up facing down in red mud in the middle of the plain. “You feel well enough to get up? To eat?” Wilhelmina surveyed her body. Even the soreness of her head seemed to have faded. “Yes, yes, I do.” “Good. First, I think you need a bath. One is being drawn for you.” Lakshmi gestured through the door to a room with a smooth stone floor. There Wilhelmina could see two servant women pouring hot water into a very large tin bath. This looked like something delightful. Pulling back the light sheets, Wilhelmina climbed from bed. “There are slippers.” Lakshmi held up a pair of light silk slippers in a light blue colour. For a moment Wilhelmina thought of taking them, but saw Lakshmi herself had bare feet, draped just with silver jewellery. There seemed no point if she was just going to take them off for the bath. As Wilhelmina stood for an instant she thought she saw an Indian woman of the same age as her coming towards her. Like Lakshmi she was dressed in fine silk clothes and wearing a wealth of jewellery. Though she was so alien to Wilhelmina, she seemed very alluring, her tan shade body and sleek black hair so beautifully shown in what she wore. English women, of course, kept their bodies concealed beneath reams of clothing; their hair often bound up tight. However, perhaps here, this more relaxed, indeed this more exposed style, was appropriate. Wilhelmina glanced to Lakshmi who was smiling; she expected to be introduced to the newcomer. However, when Wilhelmina looked back the young woman was gone and she realised all she could see now was her own reflection; looking a little hot and weary. Had she hallucinated? Had the blow to her head caused problems? The mirror was long, slender and ornate; Wilhemina wondered if it was a treasure of the palace. “Don’t worry.” Lakshmi said warmly, taking Wilhelmina’s hand. “That is a special mirror, the Mirror of Abhilasha. I guess it was how it was made, how it catches the light. However, people say you can see magic things in it. Then again, some say that I am a witch rather than just a courtesan.” Wilhelmina glanced to Lakshmi but she smiled to show it was a joke. There was something about this woman’s manner that Wilhelmina found attractive. It was a little as if she was mischievous. Not malicious, just someone who enjoyed her life and deriving humour or maybe just simple delight from it. “Come, bathe before the water cools too much.” Wilhelmina let herself be led to the bathroom and yielded as Lakshmi took off the white dress. The Englishwoman felt a little self-conscious. After all she had only known this woman a few minutes. Then she told herself to simply behave in front of Lakshmi as she might in front of a host’s servants if she went to stay at the house of another Company commander or official. The bath certainly felt good. Various herbs floated in the water and Wilhelmina felt herself drifting away. Lakshmi sat close by and very softly began to sing in her own language. Though she could not comprehend the words, Wilhelmina found the sounds rather hypnotic. Then Lakshmi, unbidden, was washing her hair. Wilhelmina felt that she should be uncomfortable perhaps even embarrassed. However, the bath had relaxed her so much and she realised that she felt safe in Lakshmi’s care so that she made no protest and simply let it all be done to her. Wilhelmina did not know how long she had been in the bath when Lakshmi spoke again. “Come it is time to have you dress; to show you the palace.” A serving woman appeared with towels and as Wilhelmina stood, she was wrapped in them. She dried herself while Lakshmi stood to one side. Wilhelmina wondered what had been in the bath because her skin felt so soft. It also looked less pale than she was used to. She wondered if, despite the encompassing dresses and bonnets she wore, the sunlight had begun colouring her. She thought of it reddening skin rather than browning it, but then thought that logically, perhaps that explained why Indians had that skin tone. Anyway, once she was back in England she was sure it would all fade. “Where are my clothes?” Wilhelmina asked suddenly. She kept the towels tight around her. Though there were only women here, she felt herself very exposed once more. “They were filthy; there were tears; there was no point in dressing back in those now you are so clean.” Lakshmi said with her usual sweet smile. Wilhelmina recognised that it made sense. Given how she had been tumbled around in the carriage, she could easily envisage how her dress had been torn and coated in dust. “What shall I wear?” “Well, we do not have the kind of clothes an Englishwoman might wear, here in the palace. However, the Rajah has had some fine clothes sent for you. Come through.” Lakshmi opened the door back into the bedroom. Resting on Wilhelmina’s bed, which had now been made, were a set of clothes. They were of a paler shade than Lakshmi’s, an iridescent material shading from light yellow to silver. It was the kind of fabric Wilhelmina would have expected to see on a ball gown rather than day clothes. Apprehension returned to Wilhelmina as she tried to envisage herself kitted out like Lakshmi, especially with the tight top and her midriff bare. “Right, if you are going to wear the fine clothes of a Rajah’s court you must know the proper names.” Lakshmi said with an expression to show that she was mocking the tone of a school mistress. “You may wish to ask to have your magenta choli put out or a servant to bring a green dupatta.” In turn, Lakshmi lifted up the cropped top and then the long amber shawl to indicate each. “Choli, dupatta.” Wilhelmina repeated. “Good. And the skirt is your gagra. Jaya will help you into these.” Self-consciously Wilhelmina stood like a statue as the serving woman moved around her. She kept the towel in place almost to the instant it could be replaced by the clothing. Quickly Wilhelmina found herself laced into her first choli. It had sleeves that extended only a short way down the arms and was low cut both at the back and front. She knew if she had worn such a garment in Britain it would have caused a scandal, but she reminded herself that here it was standard and indeed probably necessary to cope with the heat. There had been days when she had really struggled in her corset and hooped skirt. She recalled the trip to Kanthapura when she had swooned and had missed the dinner having been compelled to recover in a darkened room. Once she was in her gagra, Wilhelmina felt better. It was a long pleated skirt of matching material to her choli. It stopped above her ankles and Wilhelmina gathered that was so the well-to-do Indian women could show off the jewellery they wore over their feet. Finally Jaya pinned the dupatta at her waist and showed how bringing it diagonally across her body she could cover more of her exposed skin. Lakshmi looked on with apparent delight at how Wilhelmina was turned out. “Excellent, I am sure you feel much better. I know these clothes may appear strange, but they are ideal for Ferraghur’s climate. Come let me comb your hair and then I will show you the palace.” As when washing it, Lakshmi sung softly. This and the strokes of the brush soothed Wilhelmina greatly. She wondered how long her hair had grown. Then imagined that bundled up in a bun or put into a plait for sleep she had overlooked its growth. Wilhelmina’s mother had died the first summer they had been in India but even when she had been alive Wilhelmina had felt she was distant and that Pari had fulfilled much of the motherly role. However, perhaps with an Indian woman in that position, things that would have been noticed in England, had been overlooked here. “There you are.” Lakshmi said with satisfaction. “Come, let me show you this place and then we will have the midday meal.” Wilhelmina had sampled some versions of local dishes made by cooks at the fort. However, she had smelt richer, spicier versions and she guessed that, as with the clothes, she was going to have to become familiar with them. She recognised that she should be grateful that she was being well looked after, even though it meant many adjustments for her. As she followed Lakshmi through the shady corridors of the palace and looked into various rooms, she felt that if she was to remain part of those who now ruled large areas of India, it was only right that she knew about its people, especially those like the ones here at the Rajah’s court. She now imagined acting as an emissary for her father at some future date. This section of the palace was decorated with a range of pictures of people, men and women, some with strangely coloured skin. Many seemed contorted and she wondered if they were allegorical or perhaps something like a horoscope. Then they came to a large wooden door studded with iron and arced around it were similarly sinuous depictions of people, in some ways like gargoyles in churches that Wilhelmina recalled from back home, though the men and women depicted seemed beautiful rather than grotesque and happy rather than in despair. “These are my quarters.” Lakshmi said proudly. “Unless the Rajah is attending on me, you can come to me here. Jaya or Sati can be sent for me. I have assigned them to you.” “Thank you.” Wilhelmina said. She had realised that she would have found everything so much harder here without Lakshmi’s help. Not least she was grateful to have found someone who spoke English well even if it was with quite a strong accent. In fact she found she had come to like the sing-song way Lakshmi spoke. Lakshmi opened the door and led Wilhelmina inside. The rooms beyond were darker, with cut wood panels separating the various areas; rugs and silk cushions laid across the floor and small lamps burning even now in daylight. There was the strong smell of incense too. Wilhelmina liked it immediately; it was like something from an Arabian Nights story, secret and magical. She imagined spending time here with Lakshmi hearing about her life, the court and she had no doubt, being told many Indian tales. Taking her hand, Lakshmi led Wilhelmina past a number of sumptuous couches and a large circular bed hidden behind damask drapes. They then emerged out on to a balcony, shaded by an architrave. Shutters had been folded back to give a view out over the plain below. It seemed to be hundreds of feet below them and the people and oxen Wilhelmina could make out looked to be no larger than ants. Here, though, the air was fresher and she found the sight invigorating as if she could invoke the power of the palace in herself. Soon a servant was appearing with lunch. There were flat breads, a variety of vegetables both wet and dry, a lentil porridge, meat which Wilhelmina imagined was mutton, in a gravy and washed down with a yoghurt drink Lakshmi told her was called lassi. Once the meal was finished a sweeter version was brought. Lakshmi did not ask about Wilhelmina’s time in India, but rather began to tell her more about the workings of the palace. As the afternoon wore on, she brought books both hand copied and printed, from her rooms and began to teach Wilhelmina what the sinuous writing meant. “I’m not your governess.” Lakshmi joked after a while. “But you’ll not find books in English here, so I want you to be able to read something; stop you becoming bored.” Wilhelmina wondered how long it was thought she would remain here. However, she guessed it would be at least a week before her father reached Ferraghur even assuming that Pari could get to him and he was not on orders to be elsewhere. “In time, there will be a book I am sure you will enjoy reading. It is called the Kama Sutra. I have one ancient copy, highly treasured. Parts two and six are important for your future. Part seven, well, that is the one I refer to in order to help you.” For a moment, Wilhelmina wondered if Lakshmi was seeking to induct her into an Indian religion. On reflection, though she imagined this sutra book was probably something like a code of etiquette. She was at a royal court, after all, and if she had taken up residence at Buckingham Palace or Windsor Castle, she knew someone there, probably a courtier like Lakshmi was here, would have felt obliged to tutor her. As sunset came, a servant that Wilhelmina did not recognise came with a degree of urgency to Lakshmi. She spoke quickly in Hindi but Wilhelmina seemed to grasp what she was saying. “The Rajah is summoning us?” “Well done, yes. My work seems to already be paying off. Come, this is a great privilege and we must not keep him waiting.” Soon they were out of Lakshmi’s rooms and Wilhelmina noticed that, as a result of their wanderings in the palace, she had not realised how close they were to her own rooms. In turn, from there, they were soon in the throne room. This chamber was of a cream-coloured stone and far lighter than many of the rooms Wilhelmina had been in. Sat on a large ornate metal chair at one end was a man in his sixties. Perhaps he was just as Wilhelmina expected. He wore a brocade suit of a shade that matched his room. A jewelled turban covered his head and he wore an earring. However, there was nothing effeminate about this man. He exuded an air of power that made Wilhelmina a little apprehensive. She walked forward to him, aware that not only his eyes but those of the others in the room, were upon her. A woman a little younger than the Rajah sat close to him and she imagined this was his wife or at least the chief one. There were other men which she took to be advisors or officials; one wore a Western style military uniform, but he was not English, perhaps Italian or even Turkish. “Ah, yes, the Meena I have heard about.” The old man said in a strong voice, smiling; his English was good and less accented than Lakshmi’s. He gestured for her to step forward. Wilhelmina did not try to correct his rendering of her name, she imagined she could struggle pronouncing his. She came forward giving a curtsey, hoping that it was right. “Excellent, turn around.” Wilhelmina complied and it resulted in applause from the Rajah. “Excellent, Lakshmi, my magical, wondrous flower. You have done very well.” “Are you happy here my dear?” The Rajah addressed Wilhelmina directly. “Thank you, your Majesty.” Wilhelmina responded in Hindi, already having learnt the phrase from Lakshmi. The Rajah clapped again. “Oh that is perfect. We could do with more English women coming here just like you. Very good work, Lakshmi, carry on.” “Yes, your Majesty.” Wilhelmina took that to be their dismissal. She curtsied again and backed away. The Rajah began to talk with some of the men assembled there, about the political developments, Wilhelmina was sure. Soon after, Lakshmi whispered in her ear that they could leave and they made their way back through the palace. This time they went into a garden where a number of women sat. Wilhelmina was introduced to them. They proved to be wives of courtiers and courtesans like Lakshmi. Wilhelmina was not really clear about the distinctions of rank but she was sat down with the latter group. Musicians soon came and while to Wilhelmina the music sounded strange and the singing stranger still, by the time a light dinner was brought to the women, she found she was beginning to like it. Anonymous 06/02/17 (Fri) 12:46:37 No.1615 **** Wilhelmina tried to work out how many days she had been at Ferraghur. Had it been a week or was it two? It was difficult to tell; no-one here seemed to have a calendar. Her days were filled with activities of the court and in many ways it was not much different from life at a Company fort. She dressed – she now had a growing wardrobe of fine clothes; she was bathed – Lakshmi always washed her increasingly long hair and sang and she ate meals. Breakfast was the main meal of the day here and the foods now seemed ordinary, nothing exotic. There were music recitals as if she had been in a British cantonment and sometimes even dramas put on by ladies of the court. The lessons with Lakshmi at times made Wilhelmina think back to when she had first come to India with her parents, but she found real benefit in learning Hindi and by now was on to reading simple books. Lakshmi had also taught her a number of Indian games; the chaturanga version of chess; pagaday – a race game like ludo; navakankari resembling nine men’s morris and adu huli which she now knew meant ‘goats and tigers’. Lakshmi emphasised how useful these would be for socialising with the other women. For the moment, though, when in company, Wilhelmina still sat close to Lakshmi, worried that she would get her Hindi words wrong. Jaya was finishing dressing Wilhelmina when Esha, one of Lakshmi’s servants came to her room. She handed over a note. It was written in very simple Hindi and Wilhelmina was pleased she could read it. It invited her to the octagon chamber or ‘eight side room’ as Lakshmi had rendered it for ease of comprehension. The word for music ended the note. Pleased, Wilhelmina spoke slowly to Esha in simple Hindi words telling her to advise her mistress that she would soon be there. Esha smiled and nodded and headed back out. In a matter of minutes, Wilhelmina was at the room and found Lakshmi lounging on a banquette and cushions on the floor. A short way off were four dancers and musicians that Wilhelmina recognised. Lakshmi gestured for Wilhelmina to join her and then Esha came with a sweet falooda, one of the other drinks Wilhelmina had come to enjoy. Wilhelmina watched as the musicians played the music which seemed to grow ever more frantic. It was so far removed from the performances she might have seen back in England or even here at the house of an officer or a parson. Wilhelmina found it heady and as if she was being caught up in the sounds. The four women span around. Their plaited hair was like a short whip as they turned. Their jewellery at their wrists; the large belts around their waists and the silver bells on their ankles all chimed with their movements. Rather than the dress Wilhelmina had become familiar with, now they had chiffon skirts that span out from them; below were tight-fitting leggings to maintain their modesty. All there were in bright orange shades, Wilhelmina had no doubt, to add to the spectacle of the dance. The music rose to a climax and then the four ceased abruptly with it, adopting stylised postures as if creating a tableau. Wilhelmina found herself rising unthinkingly and clapping enthusiastic applause. At that reaction Lakshmi looked delighted. She rose quickly and came to join Wilhelmina. “Did you enjoy that ’Mina? It’s exciting to watch isn’t it?” Wilhelmina smiled. “Yes, yes, it is.” She confessed. “Can you imagine how exciting it is to dance that way?” For a moment Wilhelmina was going to respond ‘no’; it certainly differed from any dancing that she had done. “Why don’t you try? I can teach you.” The suggestion seemed a good one. There were not many entertainments in the palace and she recognised that this would be a good distraction. “Yes, thank you, I will appreciate that.” “Good.” Lakshmi smiled and once more Wilhelmina felt that joy at pleasing her. “Come we’ll make you look a proper dancing girl of Ferraghur.” Wilhelmina let Lakshmi lead her by the hand into a side room. She was not really surprised to see matching dancing outfits there and one was quickly found that fitted Wilhelmina. Lakshmi reclined as was her habit while Mohana, one of the dancers, a little smaller than Wilhelmina but probably her age, helped her dress to resemble her. Pulling on the tight leggings was a strange sensation for Wilhelmina. At first they felt constricting but as with all the clothes she had worn here, they were of fine material. The choli was much as she already wore. This time the dupatta was hung over one shoulder and kept in place by a broad belt stitched as with so much of her clothing, with glistening metal. “That is your first oddiyanam; wear it tight and keep your waist slender.” Lakshmi commented. Idly, as she was dressed, Wilhelmina reflected how English women these days increasingly sought to corset their chests but here it was the waists that were constrained. “Good, yes, she should have a tikka and a hair chotli.” Lakshmi continued. As Mohana fixed the jewellery on to the line of Wilhelmina’s hair, its pendant resting on her forehead, she realised what the tikka was. All the other women wore one, so it seemed to make sense that she did. The chotli proved to be further jewellery worked into the plait Mohana made for her. Wilhelmina realised she had not recognised how much her hair had grown; it seemed darker than before, but she imagined that was a result of the lighting. The stark sunshine outside always contrasted sharply with the shaded interior and her eyes often struggled to adjust quickly. Then Mohana was bending and jewellery, importantly of silver not gold, but with tiny bells, was attached to each foot. The dancers had bare feet though Wilhelmina saw both Mohana and Lakshmi had toe rings, something that again was so different from what she knew, but for that, thinking she might one day wear them too, brought back that familiar frisson. “Excellent. Now you look the part. Come, let us start teaching you. I am sure the Rajah will be pleased that you are learning the ways of this place; becoming a real young woman of this court.” Lakshmi’s enthusiasm, as always, chased away any qualms Wilhelmina had about becoming absorbed into Ferraghur and also her thoughts about when the crisis would be over and she could be taken to a British fort. **** As Wilhelmina stood with Mohana, Kalyani and Sushila, she felt butterflies in her stomach. She had always felt this way when she had been asked to perform on the piano or sing; an occasional occurrence at the fort and more common when she had been back in Britain. This time, however, she was trying a new art entirely and her audience was to be royalty. To reassure herself, Wilhelmina thought back over how long they had practiced this dance. Had it been two weeks, had it been more? With the routines of the court, it was easy to lose track. Wilhelmina had spent the first few nights here trying to work out how long it would be before someone would come to fetch her. However, as the days had passed, she realised that she was building up false hopes. Her father was a serving officer and she had no idea what duties he might be called upon to perform. He might be occupied for the next six months and she knew she would simply become frustrated if she counted the days. As Lakshmi had encouraged, Wilhelmina simply let herself be borne along by the life of Ferraghur, not questioning it or her future. From Lakshmi’s balcony everything on the plain below had seemed ordinary but she had no idea what might be going on in Marghdeen, Kanthapura or Lankhmar. Ferraghur Palace felt impregnable and given that everyone here seemed friendly towards her, she guessed that she was safer here than potentially besieged in Kanthapura’s cantonment. The three dancers spoke little English and working with them, Wilhelmina, or ‘Meena’ as they preferred to call her, knew her Hindi had improved. Now when speaking with Lakshmi she slipped easily between the two languages; though in her mind they sounded the same. She guessed this was a useful skill for the future. She imagined working as an interpreter, though she found it hard to envisage doing this for her father, rather for the Rani or one of the other ladies at court. Now Wilhelmina felt a tug at her arm and realised she had wandered off into a reverie just at the moment she needed to be attentive. Mohana smiled. “It is time, come Meena, let’s show the Rajah our best.” “Yes.” Wilhelmina agreed, feeling genuine excitement. As they paraded into the court room, Wilhelmina tried not to think about how many people were here. However, looking up she caught sight of Lakshmi and felt her support. Mohana announced the dance and then the musicians begun. The sounds of the sitar, tabla drums and shehnai pipes were now all familiar to Wilhelmina. She struggled to recall what a piano sounded like and wondered if she would ever enjoy its music again. Now that she had danced in a vigorous way to this music Wilhelmina felt it had entered her bloodstream in a way even the music of an ensemble for a ball could never now do. Then all thoughts were lost beneath the moves as Wilhelmina was swept along, recalling that she needed to know as the dance became more frenetic and her friends span around her. She was conscious that the clothes and jewellery she wore added to her as a dancer and she loved them for that. She was a flash of saffron shade as she felt somehow removed from the court and put into the ephemeral world of this dance. Then it was at an end. Wilhelmina felt her heart thumping and her breaths deep, but she was not as flushed as she had imagined she would be. There was applause from the audience. Wilhelmina glanced to the other three proudly; each grinned broadly. “Which is our newest dancer? Come forward.” The Rajah commanded. Demurely, Wilhelmina obeyed. “I could not tell you apart from the others. You have done so well my dear … Meena.” “Thank you, your Majesty. It was my pleasure.” “Excellent.” The Rajah looked delighted. He held out his hand and Wilhelmina came forward to take it. She noticed his skin was paler than hers, though this was not too unusual when Indians aged. She was sure hers had darkened from practice dancing in the garden. “Lakshmi, I see you have really worked your magic; and her Hindi is good.” Wilhelmina did not know if that was a question or a statement. She had assumed all that was being said was in English. Lakshmi appeared beside her, looking proud as a good teacher would. “Yes, now make her a courtesan. She will be perfect for that; perfect for Ferraghur.” The Rajah noted. Wilhelmina felt this was an acceptance and now she felt pride that her hard work had brought her to this. “I am very grateful, your Majesty.” “Yes, excellent.” The Rajah let go of her hand and she took this to be her dismissal. There was more applause as the dancers retreated from the chamber and Lakshmi led them off to one of the courtyard gardens where food and drink awaited them for a small celebratory party. As she sat with the four other women, Wilhelmina realised she had not felt this kind of camaraderie since her tutoring with other Company daughters even before she came to India. Anonymous 06/02/17 (Fri) 12:46:52 No.1616 *** Wilhelmina made sure that she attached her oddiyanam tightly and that her tikka and chotli were in place. The payal anklets sounded as she walked and for the first time, Wilhelmina wondered at the value of all that the Rajah had given her in his beneficence. These were beautiful things and she loved the fact that she now shimmered and chimed the way that Lakshmi did. As Wilhelmina entered Lakshmi’s chambers this morning for breakfast, she found the courtesan lounging on her low, broad couch which was covered with purple silk and large cushions. Lakshmi was just wearing a broad dupatta of a similar shade, draped around her, but little else bar her jewellery. “I am sorry, should I come back later?” Lakshmi laughed, but not unkindly. “No. Not at all. Come in, come sit with me. You heard what the Rajah said yesterday – that he wants you to become a courtesan and so now we start your training in that.” This confirmed the suspicions that had been rising within Wilhelmina in recent days that a courtesan was more than a simple courtier, she was supposed to particularly entertain the Rajah, not just with music, dance and conversation but how, in younger days, his wife might have done. “You want to be just like me.” Lakshmi stated. “We’ll be true sisters then.” Wilhelmina sat down on the edge of the couch and nodded. All along she had felt as if Lakshmi was like a big sister she had never had. Now she had no desire to disparage her. Indeed, given how happy she seemed, perhaps it was a good idea to be more like her. “Now, we will start reading the Kama Sutra. There are a number of volumes.” Lakshmi gestured to the collection of books on the table. “We will begin with volume six on the role of the courtesan and then we will move to volume two which is about amorous advances and union. I know you feel well fitted to life at Ferraghur, Meena, but this is a new step. The British … well, I know they all behave as if they are sadhus and sadhvis … your monks and nuns. I am surprised that any children are born.” This was not new to Wilhelmina, she had heard French guests of her father’s, when they were back in Britain, complain the same. They would often speak of how different it had been in her grandmother’s generation, though Wilhelmina found that difficult to believe. Perhaps, however, since Victoria had ascended the throne there had been a change and Wilhelmina certainly knew that religious groups had become more prominent. Yet, here, sat with a woman so sensuous in a place so removed even from the realities of India, let alone those of England, such attitudes could certainly be challenged. Wilhelmina felt a strange, unnerving but pleasurable sensation, to consider it so. “Yes.” Wilhelmina agreed, pulling off her dupatta and resting her hand on the smooth skin of her naked midriff. “So you would like to learn these things?” Lakshmi asked. “Yes, yes I would.” There was a jolt of that sensation once more as she agreed. “The Rajah, everyone at Ferraghur will be delighted. Mohana, Sushila, Kalyani – they will be pleased that you are becoming just like them.” Certainly one thing Wilhelmina liked about Ferraghur was that she felt part of a community; that she had friends. It was so much better than being an odd-one-out among officers’ wives and matrons at the fort. “I would like to please the Rajah.” Wilhelmina said demurely. The manner seemed to please Lakshmi. “Ah, yes, and that reminds me. You did please the Rajah. He has sent gifts for you.” Beside Lakshmi was an inset wooden box wonderfully crafted. Lakshmi opened it. Inside was a couple of gold bangles, what she knew was a hathpool – a complex set of rings for each finger with fine chains linking them and a number of earrings. There were also smaller jewels in the box, to be worn in the ear, and, Wilhelmina imagined, one was a laung for the side of the nose, just as Lakshmi and the dancers wore. “It is a shame you cannot wear all these fine jewels that the Rajah sent.” Lakshmi looked disappointed. “I have nowhere I can wear this gem or these earrings.” “But you could; you could - the way that I do. It is easy to arrange.” Lakshmi said as if the thought had only come to her. Wilhelmina was not really clear what she meant until Lakshmi produced a fine needle, only visible when it caught the light. “A few moments.” Lakshmi grasped Wilhelmina’s head, but not forcefully and then she deftly thrust the needle into the left side of Wilhelmina’s nose. She was about to protest but the pain was momentary and before she realised that the metal had gone through, Lakshmi was working on her ears, giving her the four piercings in each of the same pattern as her own - the lobe, the inner ear, the outer part of the middle of the ear and the top of the ear. Wilhelmina gave a shudder which was only partially surprise. Then something else took over as Lakshmi whispered in that strange tone once more, close to her ears. Instead of concern that she would look peculiar once she returned to the camp, Wilhelmina felt an excitement that she could now wear these beautiful things. She began to envisage what it would be like to replace the nose stud, the laung, with one of the large gold nath rings even one with a delicate chain running from it to her ear as she had seen on one of the women in the court; certainly the Rani. Lakshmi held up a hand mirror and Wilhelmina saw her nose and her ears decorated with gold. Perhaps in a Company fort it would have looked strange, but she realised that here in Ferraghur, she saw women looking like this every day; it was normal and surely that made it sensible that she appeared the same. The Rajah had been very generous to her and so what was the matter with a few small holes to please him in showing her in the jewellery he had sent? Her life before Ferraghur seemed so distant and it was probably foolish to judge what happened here; what she was here, by its mores. Wilhelmina looked at her skin. It was difficult to tell in the shaded rooms of the palace, but she was sure it was a darker shade than before. Perhaps the brightness of the gold brought it out. However, she guessed, once more, that it was better to fit in among the women of the Palace than be sticking out all pale cream or worse, sun-burned pink. “That is excellent, Meena.” Lakshmi lent in to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek. “We will breakfast and then you can begin to read.” The morning proceeded as Lakshmi had said; with her gently whispering phrases as Wilhelmina read on. Wilhelmina found herself learning all about courtesans. The book, Lakshmi told her was centuries old; this was a translation, but it seemed to be the way many things were still done. By lunchtime Wilhelmina felt she was becoming part of something ancient and important to the royal houses of India and realised that pleased her. “You are a fast learner. I think you will soon be ready for volume two.” Wilhelmina gave her mischievous smile. “First, however, I need to give you a gift. Sit back on the couch.” Wilhelmina did as instructed and then Lakshmi came over to her with what the Englishwoman immediately realised was the replica of a man’s member. It was made of a smooth stone. “We do not have men here to practice the elements of volume two upon, well not yet. However, this will help.” Wilhelmina did not know how to react but took the item. Despite its resemblance to nature, she found it was so detached from its human form that she could just see it as an ornament, perhaps a tool. “We call it a darsildo and this is yours; every courtesan should have one. It will help when you find yourself excited by what you read. I know you have never been with a man, but you are a woman, Meena, not a girl and a woman requires many things. Now, rather than go back to your room, today, you will remain here and I will tutor you in a new skill; one that you will be very glad you have learned. Now, lie back on the cushions.” Wilhelmina did not know how to react. She had agreed to become a courtesan and she could hardly run from here complaining that this was not what she had meant. She felt an obligation to the Rajah; to Lakshmi, for all they had given her and so it seemed that she must comply. As she reclined, she realised she had let go of the darsildo and now, with the gentle singing of Lakshmi accompanying it, her gagra was slowly eased up. Wilhelmina shivered as she felt the stone rest against the lips of her fairest flower. Gently it was stroked up and down, its smoothness allowing it to slide over her skin easily. Then she felt sensations stirring from what was becoming her cloven inlet; her chine. “Yes, you are tight. The Rajah; men, will like that. However, you are no different to any other woman, your yonee is enjoying this; it is opening, slowly but steadily. Feel the slickness.” Wilhelmina shuddered, not able to speak; not wanting to do anything to disrupt the delicious feeling that was coming from her middle but moving in waves to every part of her body. Now the angle shifted and she felt the curved tip of the darsildo slip between her lips. She knew she wanted it deep within her. However, Lakshmi pulled back and sliding to the top of the lips gently circled the nub there. Wilhelmina knew little of this part of her body, but now it seemed to come alive to Lakshmi’s ministrations. As it was gently rubbed by the smooth and now wet stone, Wilhelmina felt as if she had been shot through with lightning. She convulsed on the couch, the jangling of her jewellery simply emphasising where she was, what she was. “We will come back to that in time – your bhaganasa. For now, she is just waking and I do not want her to rush around and end the party too soon.” Wilhelmina had no ability to speak; no ability to resist what Lakshmi was doing to her. The sensations were new but they were urgent and Wilhelmina felt a need for them to continue; to grow; for her to lose herself in them. Time had no meaning, it was simply about the sensation; the probing of the darsildo, her darsildo and all it could bring to her body. “Meena, you have stepped through the door; you have come into the realm of the courtesan and this is what you receive as your reward.” Sometime later, Lakshmi returned to the nub and with some strokes, Meena found herself toppling, spinning, with bright lights in her eyes and her body shaking with a sensation which crashed on every fibre of her and left her breathless. It took time for her to come back to some normal state and sitting up she looked over to see that the afternoon was well advanced. She took up the darsildo which now had an earthy aroma she knew to be hers, like an opium addict grasping for his pipe. “What have you made me?” Meena asked, smiling mischievously herself. “Something very, very special.” “Thank you.” Meena knew how deeply she meant that. Lakshmi had shown her another world and made her perfect for it. There was nowhere else she wanted to be and nothing else she wanted to live as. “I imagine after that you need food. Come.” Lakshmi sprung up but came to help Meena rise as if she was an old woman. As she stood she realised how weary her limbs were. She marvelled at the power of the smooth stone tool she carried. “This shall be Kishore.” Meena declared. Lakshmi smiled. “The colt, yes. Mine is Jagjit – world conquering.” The two laughed and sat at the table for their afternoon meal. Meena knew there was a great deal that Lakshmi could teach her, but now she felt that indeed, she had gone through the door and was truly the same as Lakshmi. Anonymous 06/02/17 (Fri) 12:47:16 No.1617 **** Meena sat reading while Lakshmi wrote a letter. She had now completed the entirety of the Kama Sutra. That even included the seventh volume which showed her some of the ways Lakshmi had used to craft from whatever she had been before into what she was now – Meena, a courtesan of Ferraghur. There had been a life before here, but Meena was uncertain about it and, daily, more details faded. At most they felt as if they had been in a dream. If being at this court was so perfect for her, she found it difficult to consider any other existence. Meena was proud of her knowledge. With the aid of Shresth, one of the young men who played instruments, Meena had lost her virginity as directed by Lakshmi, but she knew that it was nothing important. What mattered was her skill in making love and the young man had been more than happy to be her partner for practice as she had, for example, distinguished the art of the Mare’s Trick from the Samdamsha position. There was a real strength inside her now, sufficient to bring a man immediately to climax or hold him on the edge for as long as she chose. Esha bustled into her mistress’s chamber. “My lady, you may be interested to hear that Sahib Yash is in the court room.” “Thank you, Esha.” Lakshmi set aside her pen and stood quickly. “Meena come, I think you will benefit from seeing Yash.” Though she knew much of the palace now, Lakshmi was soon leading Meena up an unfamiliar set of stairs and the two women emerged into a gallery overlooking the throne room. They were concealed behind fretted wooden panelling but had a good view of what was going on below. A man, probably eight or ten years older than Meena, was striding around. He was dressed for riding and from the dust about him, she imagined he had come some distance to be here. “That is Yash. He is a nephew of the Rajah; his sister’s youngest son.” Lakshmi explained softly. “She was a lover of peace, but this young man has become a warrior, an adventurer. His father is Nawab of Malgudi, so he has influence and maybe a little too much freedom.” “… the siege of Kanthapura has been lifted by Company and Queen’s troops.” “The ‘mutiny’ is at an end?” “No, uncle. However, in this part of India, the British are gaining the upper hand; reasserting their control.” Meena wondered what impact that would have. She found that she was a little worried that it would mean her time here was going to be brought to an end. She chased off those thoughts and instead focused on Yash. There was a vibrancy about him that she found she liked and unbidden thoughts of him filling the role in the sexual positions she had been reading about that morning came into her mind. “I have heard there are rumours … that an Englishwoman came here; after the storm.” “Why?” The Rajah asked. In that moment Meena realised that the old man was more astute than his amiable behaviour in front of her revealed. “What have you done?” The Rajah pressed sitting up on his banquette; he shot a glance at Major Luzzato. “Me, my riders, well … we helped scout; prevent escapees from Kanthapura. We were going to move on to Lankhmar.” “And you have come here for safety?” “It is nearer than Malgudi.” Luzzato noted. “Yes, and Ferraghur will never fall.” Yash added. “I have no desire to put that to the test.” The Rajah said wearily. “We faced a British assault many years ago, before you were born. I will not repeat that.” “Well, let me take this woman as my hostage. I will not mistreat her. It just might buy me safe passage back to my father’s palace.” Yash suggested. “One woman has come here in recent months. You can see her. I think you might like her. She has been under Lakshmi’s tutelage. She has worked her magic on her and now she might be ready to spread her wings; perhaps to Malgudi. She would need to be assured of an unadventurous life.” To Meena it sounded as if the uncle was trying to persuade the nephew to see the error of his ways and adopt the manner of life that she knew he enjoyed at Ferraghur. “Are you hiding something?” Yash asked but not sharply. “No – ask the staff if you like. Ask who is the only newcomer to Ferraghur in the past few months. Otherwise, simply see her; have her dance for you.” “A British officer’s daughter dance for me? Have you seen how they dance?” The Rajah held up his finger. “Yes, but I said, she has been with Lakshmi and you know she has special skills.” “I have heard tales …” “Well you should believe them.” The Rajah looked up to the gallery and while she imagined he could not see her and Lakshmi, it was clear to Meena he knew or at least had guessed that they were there. “Offer to dance for Yash.” Lakshmi encouraged. “With your skills now, I am sure that he will never imagine that you could ever be the Englishwoman he thinks you might be. That will mean you will be safe.” “Yes, yes, let us go. I like the look of him, anyway. I would like to get to know him better.” Meena said saucily. “I am pleased. I think my lessons are coming to an end. It is probably time for a new phase in your life and maybe that will be in Malgudi.” The two women hurried down the stairs and soon came into the throne room. Lakshmi sent a servant off to summon a few of the musicians. “Here she is.” The Rajah said pleasurably. Yash was now seated to one side and was drinking. As Meena entered, she was pleased to note that immediately she had caught the man’s eye. Dressed in her vibrant red choti and gagra, with her loveliest jewellery in place, she found she was delighted to be viewed this way. She tried to push aside the returning images of Yash as the man in the Kama Sutra’s various positions. “This is Meena. Meena, this is my nephew, Yash. He would like it if you would dance for him.” Yash listened interestedly as his uncle spoke in Hindi. He was running his eyes over Meena and she enjoyed the attention. “Yes, your Majesty. I will be very pleased to do so. The musicians arrived and soon Meena was doing a solo dance, not as fast as what she had performed with the other three, but still with a popular rather than classical feel to it. Yash appeared to enjoy it. As she came to an end, Yash applauded. “Very well done. That teaches me to listen to rumours.” Yash joked. There was certainly something lively in Yash that Meena found exciting. She could imagine him riding at speed and the tight breeches and riding boots he wore showed her how lithe his body was. “Meena said she was interested in getting to know your better, my lord.” Now Lakshmi came and stood beside her. “She is a trained courtesan. Would it please you to have her attend on you?” “Yes, yes it would.” Meena felt pleased with that and even felt her dark tan skin heat at the thought. “I have rooms set aside for you, Yash. Why not bathe and Meena will come to you.” “That sounds perfect.” He seemed to have forgotten entirely about any Englishwoman or a hostage and Meena felt she had fulfilled her role very well. She returned to Lakshmi’s chambers where they kohled her eyes and scented her. Her gagra and choti were shed; in their place they wrapped the dupatta she had first seen Lakshmi wear, the day it had been decided Meena would become a courtesan. Then Esha came to fetch Meena. Lakshmi kissed both her cheeks and Meena was led to the chambers close to the Rajah’s own, large rooms she had not visited before. Yash was naked bar a long dark blue robe out of which his lavde was already protruding. Meena knew she was already wet and certainly eager to be riding it. “Who needs an Englishwoman when I have a Maratha beauty like you?” Yash said grinning. Sensuously Meena made her way towards Yash slowly letting the dupatta slip from her olive-skinned body, using her long black hair as a cover over her breasts to tease. She felt she was bringing her readings to life and even more than with Shreshth she was fulfilling her role; showing off all of her skills to a man who could appreciate them. Meena mounted the bed and turned her back to Yash, sliding her sodden yonee on to his hard, large lavde. As she had read and practiced she trapped it, toying with her bhaganasa, her chunni as she now thought of it; these days it awoke so soon. At times, she would lean forward and grasp Yash’s ankles, moving her body deftly from the Mare’s to the Bull’s position. His hands rambled across hers, cupping her breasts with their dark areolae and running across her smooth walnut shade skin. As she heard grunts and moans from Yash, Meena felt that she had won him, that he would leave here with her and she would become his courtesan. A sense of satisfaction; of fulfilment, coursed through her and Meena struggled not to climax too early, but to keep sustaining the pleasure until her Yash begged for release. By rippling her yonee muscles she delivered it to him and he jerked and rocked as he fired his juice. Some strokes of her chunni and Meena joined him, feeling that she had passed her final test and that the next phase of her life lay before her. She slid from his body and lay beside him as he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her with clear delight. Anonymous 06/02/17 (Fri) 12:47:36 No.1618 **** It seemed to have taken an entire day to pack Meena’s clothes, jewellery and books. Yash had ridden ahead to Malgudi. While it seemed unlikely that either the mutineers or the British would hold up the palanquin of a courtesan, he had left a small detachment of riders to accompany her. The ox cart with her belongings had already set off and she now walked from her Ferraghur chambers for the last time. Lakshmi had come to her room and had painted designs in henna on her hands and feet. Meena was not a bride, but as Lakshmi pointed out she was now leaving her home to be established in a new one. Meena loved the reddy brown colouring against the background of her own skin, the matching shade of Lakshmi’s. Lakshmi led her at last to the palanquin in the forward courtyard. She hugged and kissed Meena and wished her well. As the door of the palanquin was slid closed and Meena was lifted aloft, she heard Laskshmi’s voice singing in that sonorous way; as if casting one last spell. The secrets she had revealed to Meena had shown she was truly the witch that some had named her. As the sound came from Lakshmi, the henna designs on Meena’s hands and feet looked to be alive, as if they were being written afresh. Meena watched them, entranced, feeling somehow that her story was being rewritten. She shook her head, her long black hair being tossed back and forth. She was being foolish. She was Meena, raised in Ferraghur to be a courtesan and now she would serve Yash. She was lucky, he was such a strong and handsome man. She was certain she could make him very happy. Soon Meena was through Ferraghur’s gates and down on the plains. Lakshmi had made sure she had been well provided with refreshment for the journey, but progress was slow and Meena let herself doze. She awoke when the soothing motion of the palanquin ceased. She spied out through a vent in the palanquin’s panelling and saw the red of British soldiers. Then she heard the commander of Yash’s cavalry speaking to the British officer in that pidgin mix of English and Hindi they used. Meena found she could understand more of what the officer, she somehow knew he was a lieutenant, was saying. “… an Englishwoman, Miss Wilhelmina Deering. Her father is Colonel Deering.” The names meant nothing to her and sounded strange. She could not recall when she had seen an Englishwoman; certainly not at Ferraghur. The wind or the turn of a horse meant she could not hear what followed until some moments later. “No, we shall search this palanquin.” The British officer insisted. Meena leant forward and slid back the door. “Sir.” She called in her best English. It took a moment for the lieutenant to recognise he was being addressed. He moved his horse in closer and saluted. “Madam.” “Sir … lieutenant.” Meena struggled to find the right English words. “I am only … in here only.” The officer bent a little to look into the darkness of the palanquin but then looked satisfied. For some moments he gazed at Meena’s face as if trying to see something deep within it. “From Ferraghur … to Malgudi.” Meena persisted. “Yes, my dear, I understand.” He saluted. The lieutenant rode over to the daffadar with three stripes on his arm and Meena wondered why he had not been asked to question this party. Perhaps where an Englishwoman was concerned it was felt only an Englishman could be trusted to get it right. “That’s no Company colonel’s daughter even one they’d tried to disguise. This is just some wealthy betee from Ferraghur; a lady of the bedchamber, I’d imagine, though they all come kitted out in so much silk and gold you couldn’t tell.” “Lieutenant Carter, sir, she’ll be a lady of the Rajah of Ferraghur’s court.” The Indian sergeant explained. “Point taken, Daffadar. He’s been no trouble, though I hear his nephew’s been seen about.” The lieutenant turned back to face Meena and saluted. “On your way.” The officer called though not harshly. Meena slid the panel closed and the palanquin resumed its swaying passage forward. She wondered if these soldiers would find the woman they were seeking. However, quickly Meena found she rather preferred to think that she was carried off by some dashing mountain bandit and had remained his lover. Then again, Meena told herself, courtesans were always seeking an erotic outcome to every story. THE END
  7. Fitting in Around Here by Tang (BE; culture change) This has ended up a very British story, certainly with the focus of questions of social class and the names, fashions and tastes associated with different classes. The appearance and especially the outfits featured, I have seen on women in various parts of southern England in the past few years. The outfit worn at the end of this story was an actual one worn by a middle-aged woman I saw in a mall in the city of Southampton, being led by the hand by a man. Fitting In Around Here (BE; culture change; id change; tattoos; piercings) by Tang Christine Sumpter parked the car in her allocated slot at the base of the low-rise block of flats. Her divorce had meant downsizing and she had left behind the detached house that she shared with her cheating husband David to rent this flat. She imagined it could have been worse. The estate onto which she was moving had been all privately built at the end of the 1980s and was a mixture of houses of differing sizes and places like this. It was certainly very different from some of the grotty conversions and blocks of flats she had seen over the past few weeks. It might not be the leafy suburban street she had left behind, but it seemed clean and had a low crime rate. It certainly was nothing like the former council estates or inner city areas she had worried would be all that she could afford. There was a convenience store at the head of the close and a small shopping centre ten minutes’ walk beyond that. Christine was in her late thirties. She had had an unremarkable career as an accountant and even that she had given up when she had married David. However, she had filled her time with voluntary work and looking after elderly neighbours. She had no children and to some degree thought that was a good idea given the long hours her husband had spent working in his own estate agents and, as it had transpired more than a year ago, sleeping with a number of the clientele. A car pulled up in the road and a woman stepped out. Christine turned and guessed this would be the former tenant who, rather than the letting agent, had been charged with handing over the keys. Christine did not consider herself a snob, but like many British people was very conscious of her place in the class system. She knew that how you dressed and behaved, what television programmes you watched and newspapers you read, where you went on holiday, the people you associated with, even the food you ate, all said a great deal about your standing in society. She hoped that she had always lived up to what would be expected of a woman of her class. However, as she saw the previous tenant approaching, she worried a little that coming here marked a step or more down. She repeated to herself the mantra that all of this was only temporary and, once the house she had shared with David was sold and the final divorce settlement was made, she could move on to somewhere better. “Tina, Tina Summers?” “Erm, I am Christine Sumpter: is that who you mean? About the keys for the flat?” “Yes, yes, that’s it. Sorry if I got the name wrong, it’s what the agents told me. I am Kaitlyn Pierce.” The woman extended a tanned, overly manicured hand with studs set into each of her nails and a pattern replicated on each. Rather uneasily Christine took it and shook, jangling gold bracelets on Kaitlyn’s wrist as she did. Kaitlyn looked a little younger than her, Christine imagined that partly that was from her clothes and make-up. The belt of three rows of pyramid studs that sat loosely on her hips was something Christine would not have associated with a woman in her mid-thirties, but for some reason Kaitlyn carried it off. She was a bit shorter than Christine and certainly curvier. Her ample breasts seemed to be straining against the white ribbed top she wore beneath the figure hugging leather jacket. Her hips, shown in very tight jeans were broad but shapely of a type that Christine knew many men would like. She guessed that Kaitlyn was one of those women who was keen to please men. Her skin was very tanned, presumably from a salon, her hair was bottle blonde and her make-up was very obvious. “This flat is magic, it really turned my life around. I hope it does the same for you. I’ll be sad to go, but you know: a new man, a new life.” Kaitlyn said with a smile, nodding to the shiny car that was pulled up near the entrance to the close. Christine looked at the man behind the wheel. He was probably in his early forties, with a shaved head and a stocky build. The car and the expensive leather jacket suggested he was doing well for himself, but there was a roughness about him that Christine’s mother would have felt made him look like ‘nouveau riche’. “Would you like me to show you around?” Kaitlyn asked. “No, thanks it’s fine, the agents let me have a look.” “Okay. I am sure you’ll soon find that you’re just like the kind of people who live in this area. It takes a little time, but you’ll soon be adapting to be right at home.” Christine felt a little uneasy as she smiled in response. She did not intend to live here long; she had no particular urge to be just like the kind of people around here and certainly saw no need for adaptation. She wondered how this woman looked on her, she guessed she had noticed the differences between them and naturally saw her approach to the world, to the clothes she wore and the company she kept, as an ideal one. To Kaitlyn, Christine had no doubt she might seem a little aloof, maybe even stuck up. Christine felt that she mixed with people of all classes pretty well, but she had no desire to become anything like them. If her neighbours were anything like Kaitlyn, and Christine suspected they would be, she could imagine nodding good morning to them, but certainly not inviting them in her flat. She shuddered a little as she envisaged accepting an invite to one of their homes and no doubt being subjected to Eighties-style furnishings and chatter about soap operas or holidays on one of the Spanish Costas. Kaitlyn handed over the keys with the bubbly manner that she had exhibited up to now. Then with a wave she sauntered off to the car. In moments she was being driven away and Christine was left in the close empty bar herself. She turned and walked to the flat deciding to check it before she attempted to move her stuff in. It was furnished which had meant that she had not had to argue with David about taking any furniture from the house, it would be better to get the monetary equivalent and buy new when she got her own place. The furniture that the flat held was what had made her think that her neighbours’ stuff would be of that overblown style popular thirty or so years back. There was a leather suite in a cream shade, pale grey carpets and decor that mixed the slightly flowery with sharp-edged designs. Christine had always favoured more traditional stylings or at least ones with a nod to a pastoral flavour, even if that was rather false in suburbia. The flat was on the second floor and Christine was soon at it. She opened the front door to be confronted with a full-length reflection of herself in the mirror at the end of the short hall. The mirror showed a woman of slightly above average height, with mousey hair that naturally curled tight to her head in a manner that she found difficult to alter. Her features were long both on her face and across her body, her fingers were slender and her legs, as they briefly appeared from the wool skirt reaching well beyond the knee, looked a little too trim, almost as if she had been ill. There was a bust there, nothing on what Kaitlyn had and anyway Christine tended to down play it with the floral dresses or plain blouses matched with cardigans as she was wearing today. Her skin was pale, freckled here and there. In the past, what Christine liked to think of as her elegant, refined appearance had led people to make the mistake over her age as well as her state of health. Christine was not displeased by her appearance, she certainly preferred it to the brash, what her mother might have called ‘brassy’ manner of so many women these days. Kaitlyn would easily be put in that category, as would, Christine feared a little, many other women in this district. For now Christine dismissed all such thoughts, there was a lot to be done and she had to concentrate. She went through the flat quickly just to check that nothing had been altered since she had last seen it and that Kaitlyn had left everything behind that she had been supposed to and that none of it was undamaged. At the bottom of a kitchen drawer she found an old letter addressed to a Katherine Pearson at a different address. She wondered if someone had got Kaitlyn’s name wrong and that was why it had ended up here. Christine’s attention was caught by the hoot of the small removals van and she hurried down to direct the men where they had to deliver her things. With furniture in place, she had not had to bring that much with her, really just clothes, personal items, kitchen utensils, some ornaments and her computer. They were all quickly unloaded and Christine shut the door and allowed herself to slump down in the dated but reasonably good condition sofa in the living room. It had been a comparatively painless move, but she enjoyed the fact that now she felt a bit more independent. Coming here marked a clear break from David. She might only be renting this place but for now she felt it was her territory and that she could allow in only those she chose. For the first time, Christine worried suddenly that she might be lonely here. She guessed she would have little in common with her neighbours and worried a little that she would get cut off. She had friends of course, but most of them she had shared with David and it would take some time to see on which side of the divide they would fall. Her best friend, Lucy, was off in America and Canada for the next few months, just at a time when Christine felt she needed her support most. Christine found herself thinking that it might actually be a good idea at least to try to fit in this area, especially if the legal wrangling with David was going to drag on. She was sure there were local societies she could join. Though she had no desire to rush back into a relationship, as she thought about it, Christine wondered what it would be like to return to dating. She felt more experienced than she had been when she had met David. She certainly felt as if next time it needed to be a no-nonsense man who was not going to play games with her, well, at least not with her mind, with her body, that was a different thing. Of course he would have pay attention to pleasuring her as much as himself and have a decent sized cock. Suddenly Christine was finding that she was missing sex, not just the intimacy of being with her husband, even if, as it had proven, she had been third or fourth in line. No, she found she was missing the full-on physical contact of skin against skin and a cock sliding hard into her. Anonymous 05/01/17 (Mon) 13:15:03 No.1623 Slightly flushed and more than a little embarrassed at herself, Christine focused on the unpacking she had to do. After a few minutes there was a ring on the doorbell and going to it she found a woman, who, for an instant she mistook for Kaitlyn, but as she looked more carefully she saw that while similar in style, this was someone else entirely. She was probably a little younger than Christine but dressed younger than that. She had on a long baggy teeshirt under a loose cardigan but it did little to downplay her ample breasts. Below she wore tight shiny black leggings and flat ankle boots of black leather. Her hair was blonde and pulled back into a pony tail. “Hi, there, you must be Tina. Kaitlyn said you’d be moving in. I’m Gill, did she mention me? No worries if she didn’t. I’ve bought some biscuits. Have you unpacked the kettle?” Christine was powerless to resist the forceful, bubbly personality of this woman as she basically marched into the flat. She guessed this Gill was a neighbour. “Erm, it’s Christine. Yes, no, I have done.” Christine said uncertainly as she closed the front door and followed Gill into the kitchen. “That’s great. I live downstairs you know. It’s good to have another girl upstairs from me. Me and Kaitlyn got on so well and it’s a shame to have seen her go, though I am happy for her and Don, of course. I don’t know what it is about this place but it always seems to turn people’s lives around. You know, only six months back, she came here, after a messy divorce, looking so dour, so untrendy. Now look at her, sexy, sassy and getting hold of a man miles better than that bastard she left behind.” Gill continued at full flow. Christine could imagine, given their similarities, how Kaitlyn and Gill had got on so well. Though Kaitlyn’s story seemed a little like her own, she could not envisage an outcome of the same kind for herself. “Too many women forget that if you want a man, or even if you want a decent shag, you have to go out and get it, dress in a way that makes you feel good but attracts men too.” Gill looked to be casting an appraising eye over Christine and seemed to tut a degree of disapproval. Christine imagined that Gill would have thoughts of encouraging Christine to dress differently, no doubt in the brassy way that she and Kaitlyn did. Christine thought it best to head off such plans quickly. “Erm, well, I’m pretty happy with what I wear. I’m not looking for a man at present.” Christine did not say that she was not looking for sex either as Gill’s comments made her remember her earlier burst of lust. “Come through.” Gill said now the coffee was ready. She walked into the living room with the cups as if it was her own flat. Christine felt unable not to follow. As she sat down and took the coffee and then the biscuits Gill proffered she began to feel that she had been a little hard on the woman. After all, it was better to have a warm welcome from a neighbour rather than her scowling silently at you as you came in and out of the block. Gill might not be the sort of woman Christine would have associated with before, and her kind were not found in the suburbs where Christine had lived previously, but this estate was different and Christine was coming to feel, that here she might be the one to stick out. “You must feel a little out of sorts for the moment.” Gill continued, “But I am sure you’ll soon be fitting in, you know, look like a woman from these parts; Kaitlyn found it easy.” For a moment Christine felt Gill was telling her not to step out of line and come with what her mother would have termed ‘airs and graces’. However, in seconds, Christine found she was welcoming the advice and thinking of ways how she could fit in better. She could not envisage dressing like Gill and certainly not having the tanned complexion that she had. Then again, why not? She was in her thirties not her fifties, why should she not dress a little more fashionable? How could she judge what it was like to go to a tanning salon if she had never tried it? “Thank you Gill. I’ll bear that in my mind.” The response seemed to delight her neighbour. “That’s great, Tina …” Christine was about to correct Gill’s repeated mistake but she felt it would be a little rude to do so. “What are you doing Friday night? Do you fancy meeting for drinks at ‘Oscar’s’? It’s a great place, a little into town. I can introduce you to couple of my friends, Hazel and Sarah, I’m sure you’ll love them.” “Erm, yes, yes, that seems like a good idea.” Christine responded, surprised at how enthusiastic she sounded. She felt she should have been a bit more ambivalent in how she replied. She wondered if she would have anything common to discuss with Gill, let alone her friends, if she was in their company for any length of time. Typically Christine talked about exhibitions she had visited and her favourite parts of France and guessed that the only topic she would raise that would come close to what Gill and the others would discuss would be movies. Even then, Christine imagined, rather dismissively, whereas she enjoyed serious independent films, it was likely Gill preferred the latest Hollywood rom-coms. There seemed no need to rush into making new friends, especially with women who were not of her type. She guessed she would enjoy some weeks of calm and relative isolation. However, something quickly suppressed those thoughts. Perhaps it was Gill’s infectious enthusiasm that seemed to make it so hard to say ‘no’ to any suggestion she made. Anyway, Christine now thought she was foolish to be so dismissive of Gill and the fun she was offering. “Great, I am glad. It’s always a good laugh, all girls together. We can go on for a bit of a boogie later, we’ll show you the best clubs in town.” For a moment, Christine felt unease at this added suggestion from Gill. Surely both of them were too old to be heading out to discos; not that Christine had ever visited more than one or two even when a student. However, that quickly seemed ridiculous. She was not getting any younger, but there was no reason to stop enjoying herself. “Sounds wonderful.” Christine added almost automatically. Her positive response seemed to send Gill into a renewed burst of enthusiasm and the next thirty minutes passed quickly as she outlined all the great places she and her friends had been to over the last few months and the trip to Ibiza the summer before. “Well, I am sure you’ve got to unpack.” Gill said suddenly, standing. “I’ll see you Friday night, let’s say seven. I’ll drop by and pick you up. Okay?” Christine nodded her compliance. “That’s if I don’t see you before. I am manageress for the branch of ‘Disclosure’ in town; if you catch me there, make sure you ask for the ‘manager’s special’. We’ll do coffee too, there’s a nice little place in the next stretch of shops along.” Christine’s query about how Gill supported herself was answered. ‘Disclosure’ was a comparatively new chain store selling lingerie and even fetish wear, not the kind of things Christine ever envisaged herself buying, but she knew they had become highly accepted in the high street. In a couple of minutes she was showing her neighbour to the door, promising to fulfil everything that Gill suggested. With the front door closed, Christine felt as if the flat was a little too quiet. She reflected that maybe she had been far too judgemental regarding Gill who appeared well intentioned. They had not discussed Gill’s relationships but Christine wondered if she had been in a similar position herself in the past and just wanted to prevent Christine from getting too down. Maybe part of her interest was business too; Christine guessed that she was in the demographic that Gill’s shop mainly sold to. Anyway, Gill was probably right, Christine conceded, it would be so easy just to mope around the flat. Now she worried that, before she knew it, she would have turned into one of those elderly women with too many cats and who mumbled constantly to herself. Christine applied herself to the task of unpacking. She slid back the wardrobe door in the main bedroom to find that it was not empty. There was a pair of black jeans and a number of sets of leggings. There were some scoop tops, a denim jacket to match the jeans and a cropped leather jacket. There were a couple of leather skirts of differing lengths; three pairs of high-heeled shoes and two pairs of long boots, one in leather and one in suede. It appeared that in her rush to leave for her new life, Kaitlyn had left behind a number of clothes. Christine thought it best to simply bundle them all up and have the agents send them on. She called them to come and collect the items. However, they said that Kaitlyn had left no forwarding address with them, she had no obligation to do so, especially as all her bills had been settled. Christine thought about sending the clothes to a charity shop, though given how new these things were, presumably expensive too, she was hesitant to do that. She felt certain that Kaitlyn would make an appearance to reclaim them when she realised things were missing as she unpacked wherever she may have gone. Christine went in search of her own clothes to hang in the wardrobe but to her annoyance could not find the suitcases she had put them into. She searched the flat twice and then called the removal company only to get an answerphone message. She wondered what to do. She guessed she could rush out to a shopping centre and grab some things to tide her over until her own clothes reappeared, but she was uncertain which way to head from here. Furthermore, having spent much of the day in packing and moving she did not relish having to traipse around the shops. She went back to the wardrobe. Whilst the clothes were not her style they looked about her size. She guessed, given the crisis, the only solution was to borrow some of Kaitlyn’s stuff and clean it before she came to collect it. Rather frustrated, Christine unpacked all her kitchen things and then set about installing her television. She found that she did not have the range of channels that she had had in her old place. Checking with the company was another thing she added to her growing list. She idly flicked through what channels were available and there seemed to be a choice between pop videos, soap operas and shopping channels, even some pornographic channels which fortunately at this time of day were not on. She wondered if this had been some parting shot from David. Then again, Christine reminded herself, it was such a labour these days to get any service company to provide what you actually wanted. Christine found it difficult to concentrate on the unpacking. Once she had her internet set up she found herself whiling away time reading online fashion blogs and celebrity stories. These were things that had never really interested her before, but she found herself being drawn into them. She wondered if this was a result of finally breaking from David. She felt that she no longer needed to justify herself and could do whatever pleased her. If reading these things made her happy, Christine decided, why should she not do so? Anonymous 05/01/17 (Mon) 13:15:22 No.1624 **** Three days had passed and Christine felt herself settled. Where the time went she did not know, somewhere between reading online gossip and watching her favourite soap operas. She realised she needed to eat and popped to the convenience store which was becoming where she frequently shopped, not being bothered to go to a larger store. She planned to get a salad and some milk; she had tea in the flat – somewhere at least. The shop assistant, Kelly, seemed to have expected her and Christine. From the first visit, she had proven very chatty; knowing all about the area and ‘Oscar’s’ which Gill had apparently mentioned Christine was going to be a regular patron of. Coming out of the shop this time, Christine looked down into the carrier bag, realising that chatting meant she must have picked up someone else’s. In place of the skimmed milk, salad and newspaper she thought she had bought there was a glossy celebrity magazine, a pie, some full fat milk and a packet of cigarettes. She turned to go back inside to change them. However, a voice halted her. “Tina, so you got my call?” Christine looked back surprised and then realised it was Gill. “Erm, sorry, what?” “I called your mobile.” Christine had no memory of giving Gill her number. She fumbled in the denim jacket she wore but realised she must have left it in her flat. Rather guiltily she was now going around in what Kaitlyn had left. “Sorry, I must have left it at home.” “No worries, you’re here, that’s great.” Gill nodded to the tanning salon that they were a few steps away from. Gill clearly believed that Christine was happy to go into the tanning salon with her. Christine had never been one for tanning on a beach, let alone from a machine. However, she saw no reason why she should not go along with Gill; there was something about her enthusiasm that Christine found infectious. At the moment she had nothing else particularly urgent to do and followed Gill inside. It turned out to be pretty much like going to a swimming pool, she undressed and put on a towelling robe. She guessed some women would wear a bikini and for a moment she thought she would keep her bra and panties on, but something encouraged her to take them off. As she stepped from the cubicle she saw that Gill was naked. Her breasts seemed very round and certainly firm for her age. Christine guessed that Gill had had cosmetic surgery, something she did not approve of. However as she looked at Gill’s taut body she imagined she might change her opinion. Her body was decorated with a few tattoos, one of a fish on her shoulder, stars along her wrist and a butterfly close to her styled pubic hair. Christine had never considered shaving her hair there, but on Gill it looked very elegant. “That’s it, all off, I’m not a fan of tan lines.” Gill chuckled. In the next few minutes Christine was equipped with a pair of goggles and soon was sliding into the bright light of the bed. To her, it looked a little too much like a sandwich toaster, but as she slid into the warmth she understood why Gill enjoyed this so much. Christine found herself drifting away and felt more relaxed than she remembered being for quite a while. It was Gill who woke her. “That’s enough, you don’t want to end up like burnt toast.” “No, but it does feel good.” Christine said sincerely as she looked down at her body which seemed surprisingly brown for just one visit. “Sure does. Let’s shower then go and grab a coffee.” Christine spent the entire afternoon with Gill as the coffee had turned into dinner. The bar-restaurant was not the kind of place she would normally have gone into and she had felt a little frumpy compared to the other women in there. She had little recollection of what she and Gill discussed but she remembered having fun and deciding that she had to start watching the particular soap opera on one of the satellite channels that Gill had been raving about. **** Stepping through the door to her flat, a couple of days later, Christine found a letter had arrived. It was addressed to ‘Tina Summers’, but Christine opened it without thinking. It said that she had been approved for membership of the 1-2-1 Club. She had no memory of applying for membership of anything and imagined that this was simply advertising. Then she wondered if it had been something Gill had signed her up for. If that was the case then it would seem rude to ignore this offer. Gill seemed fair and Christine had to admit that whilst she might not have been the kind of woman she would have made friends with in the past, she actually enjoyed the woman’s bubbly manner. It seemed that hanging out with her had allowed Christine to relax and enjoy life a little. That was probably what she had needed. Now Christine read the club’s brochure with more interest. It appeared to be some kind of dating organisation though like many these days, emphasising the social aspects rather than simply straight on matching. Christine guessed that that approach might suit her perfectly at present. It would allow her to widen her circle of friends now it seemed that many that she had shared her … her ex-husband, David - that was it - had now stopped bothering to contact her. Christine felt that if she ran into a nice man while at one of the club’s events, then, all well and good. The large manor house a couple of miles out of town seemed like a nice relaxed setting. There were a range of events from meals, drinks parties and more full-on discos. The people shown naturally looked sexy and enjoying themselves and certainly seemed to be of Christine’s age group, some perhaps a little younger. She saw that they had an event that weekend and Christine found herself planning to go. Now Christine lit a cigarette and turned to her gossip magazine, it was only when she was halfway through that she realised she did not smoke and yet there were already two butts in the ashtray. As in the tanning salon earlier in the week, after a burst of concern, Christine found she felt relaxed and that while it might be something she had not done before it gave her a satisfying feeling. Turning back to an article about the new house of a footballer and his wife, Christine found herself drawing on her smoke with pleasure. Anonymous 05/01/17 (Mon) 13:15:40 No.1625 **** Having paid the driver, Christine stepped from the taxi and headed to the wine bar, ‘Oscar’s’ where she had arranged to meet Gill. As she stepped inside the place seemed reasonably stylish if a little dated. She imagined that brash Eighties was the common design around here. She had not walked far when Gill called out to her. She hurried over in a clinging leopard skin dress and hugged Christine as if they had been friends for decades. Christine was quickly introduced to Hazel, a woman of her own age with a cross-over top of some shiny material and a black leather skirt and Sarah, a little younger, with a bandeau top and skin-tight, coated capri trousers. Both had long, permed hair with blonde highlights. Christine was glad she had thought to change her style a little; otherwise she would have looked like these women’s schoolteacher. The removals firm had ended up compensating her for her lost things and she had gone out to buy some new clothes. For this evening, Christine had thought she had put on her dark blazer and matching blouse, a pair of the new, plain leggings that she had bought and a pair of court shoes. Now, however, as she was led to the bar and looked at her reflection behind it she saw the blazer was replaced by that leather jacket; her blouse by a dark red scooped top and rather than the plain leggings she now wore shiny ones, what she had heard described somewhere as ‘wet look’. On her feet were a pair of patent shoe-boots with quite a heel. This seemed incredible. She must have been in more of a daze as she got dressed than she had realised. Where had these clothes came from anyway? Then she began to recognise them as some of the things she had assumed Kaitlyn had left behind. However, given their difference in stature and body shape it seemed incredible that these clothes fitted perfectly. Christine began speculating seemingly mad things such as herself ordering clothes online in some sort of computer-using sleepwalk and that for some reason she had bought things to match what had been left in her wardrobe. As she looked at how good her legs appeared in the leggings and how sexy she felt in this outfit as a whole, Christine told herself to stop worrying. Perhaps she had some innate fashion sense that was coming to the fore now she was not dressing for her ex-husband. Though she was slightly apprehensive at first, Christine quickly found herself getting caught up in the infectious spirit of the three women. A lot of their conversation seem to revolve around celebrities and fashion and she found that now she was familiar with those things. Soon they were rating the men in the wine bar and making raucous comments that Christine felt sure would get them barred. Catching sight of a man she would not normally have thought twice about, she admired his smooth ‘silver fox’ ways and began to fantasise about what sex with him might be like. Then Gill quietened the ladies down and then spoke in a conspiratorial tone. “Now the surprise.” She placed four tickets on the table. They were for a local nightclub. “Fantasy Men – do you know them, Tina?” Hazel asked Christine enthusiastically. Christine found herself smirking. She did not know of them but she could imagine precisely what they were – a troupe of male strippers. As she was handed her ticket she saw she was right. She had no idea if it was the spritzers or the cocktails that had followed, but seeing muscly men stripping naked seemed to scratch an itch she had only begun to realise that she had. **** Hazel and Sarah waved and shrieked at Christine and Gill as they left the taxi and walked into their block of flats. Gill looked dead beat and Christine found it difficult to accept that her friend was finally quiet. For much of the night she had been hearing her shrill voice being excited about one thing and then the other. “Night, babe.” Gill said as she air-kissed Christine and headed wearily into her own flat. “Night.” In a couple of minutes, Christine was through the door into her own place. She slumped on the leather sofa and flicked on the television. She reached to unzip her shoe boots. Then as Christine sat back she realised she had been howling at the strippers just like the women around her. Had her voice been as shrill as Gill’s? Had she been as unrestrained? She did recall that there had been an urge to be photographed alongside them and fantasies about having sex with one of them. In fact Christine realised that she was highly aroused, something that she had not expected. She wondered if David’s attitudes had completely closed her off from the kind of things she really liked to do. However unusual it felt to Christine to get so much fun out of an evening like this, she could in no way deny it was fun and more than she could remember having in a long time. Christine felt too wired for sleep. In fact, more than that, she realised she was very aroused. She guessed that being in a room of stripping men among a group of women who apparently wanted to mount them there in front of everyone would have that effect. Irritably she began flicking through the channels until the grunts and moans showed her she had reached a porn channel. It looked like a businessman was taking his female colleague on his desk at night in a deserted office and Christine recalled the silver fox from the bar. Without rational thought, Christine’s hand was down the front of her shiny leggings, and her fingers were sliding around her lace thong to find that her sex was awake and wet. Soon Christine was thrusting her clenched fingers into her pussy in time with the man’s thrusts on the screen. She easily imagined herself in the tight red leather skirt suit being taken this way, the features of the man from the bar merging with the glistening oiled bodies of the male strippers. Christine’s thumb nuzzled clitoris and she felt a strange empowerment, in sitting here, blatantly in her own flat, fingering herself because it made her happy. Seeing herself dimly reflected in the television screen, the shininess of the leggings and the leather jacket she still wore added to the sense that she was a sexual woman unafraid of all that she could be. With her free hand she was soon released her breasts from her bra, watching her nipples hard against her tight top, playing with them between her fingers, imaging what it would be like to have them pressed so tight against a leather bustier as she had seen on one of the women tonight. All this melange of exciting thoughts was soon sending Christine squirming back and forth across the leather of her sofa; the sensation almost too good to bear. Then she came, her legs skidding out from beneath her, her body feeling that she was tumbling down a chasm, her head being knocked from white light into colours, her limbs shaking as if she was shocked. The orgasm kicked again and in that Christine felt that whatever changes had come upon her, were precisely right. If this was how Tina Summers felt, then she had no desire to live as anyone else. Anonymous 05/01/17 (Mon) 13:16:05 No.1626 Christine was rather nervous as she walked into the tanning salon. It had been different when she had come here with Gill, but now alone, coming back for another session made her feel a little uneasy. The big images across the windows meant no-one could see her from the street, but she was worried that she would run into someone she knew inside. Then again, she reminded herself, it would most likely be Gill or Hazel that she encountered and she guessed they would be more than happy that she was doing the kind of things they did. That made Christine uneasy again. Once she would never have thought she had anything in common with women like that. However, once she walked up to the desk and spoke with the smiling assistant, Beth, Christine soon found all her concerns fading. As she went to the changing room, she found herself quite excited about what she was about to do. She had no plans for a holiday just yet but half-an-hour or so in here, she felt, could make her feel just as good. Within minutes she was naked bar her goggles and heading into the tanning room, with them on. She lay on the sunbed and switched it on, pulling the upper layer down on her. The light was intense but as she lay back she found it thoroughly relaxing and as the warmth penetrated her, Christine wondered why she had not come back here sooner; maybe she should make it a weekly event. It did not seem to be very long before the timer sounded. Christine extracted herself from the machine and headed towards the shower room, her skin tingling in a pleasurable way. She understood now why women enjoyed being tanned and felt that was going to become a fan of it too. She looked at how the skin on her hands and on her thighs had gone from that rather pale complexion to something looking more vibrant. That realisation made her feel aroused and she had to focus hard to shake off thoughts of a man’s hands running all over her wonderfully tanned skin. Christine ran the shower and stepped in. Something caught Christine’s attention about her reflection in the shower door as she reached over to sponge her shoulders. There seemed to be a dark mark there. She tried to keep calm but worried that it was something like melanoma. She stepped from the shower without switching it off and manoeuvred herself so that she could look over her shoulder at the reflection in the long changing room mirror. It was immediately apparent that it was not an ailment but she still looked at her body in alarm. It was apparent that there was a tattoo on her right shoulder, it looked to be a small seahorse. As she turned back she reached her left arm to run her fingers over it, but she could feel nothing, it was not something that had somehow become stuck to her skin. As Christine lifted her hand away she noticed markings on the inside of her wrist. She quickly looked down and saw there was a small cluster of stars tattooed there. Now, she began looking all over herself and was relieved to find the only other ink was the rose curling around the side of her breast. It did look good, she told herself. Perhaps she needed a couple more tattoos. There was no rush, she liked the ones she had, they had class and that was what she wanted in her body decoration. However, as she dried herself she noticed the scroll work in the small of her back and felt that was the kind of thing she liked and began pondering new locations. Though she had not mentioned it to anyone, not even Gill who she had her usual Saturday morning coffee with, that morning Christine had decided to go to the 1-2-1 club. She felt a little apprehensive and worried that she would get there and be too lacking in confidence to speak to anyone. However, given how her sexuality seemed to have been woken up by the Fantasy Boys performance, she realised that even if she wanted a quiet life, her body was beginning to make demands. Fingering herself in front of porn movies had its place, but she felt she wanted much more. The club might not provide the solution but it seemed like a place to start; to build up her confidence. After all, there was no point in trying online dating if she was simply going to get cold feet once she arranged a date. In addition, Christine felt that she wanted a different kind of man from the ones she would have gone for in the past; certainly one who would treat her like a princess – perhaps a naughty, sexy princess, but in that way all the same. Dried and back into her leather leggings, long suede boots, tight velvet top and biker jacket, Christine bid farewell to Beth on the front desk of the tanning salon and headed back home. She had lots of ideas of what she wanted to do with her hair and make-up and wanted to get just the right dress and shoes for tonight’s visit to the club. That, she knew, could take the rest of the day. **** Brushing her hair aside, Christine was sure it was lighter in shade than before. She tried to think if she had asked Stella to dye it last time she had had it cut. She wondered if it was simply the contrast to the lovely caramel tone of her skin skilfully worked up by the tanning beds. She did not know for know and she guessed it did not matter. She loved how it had been shaped into long curling tresses. This style was classy, she told herself; feminine and with a sassiness to it. She tried to think back to when she had first come to the flat. She was sure she had dressed much more dourly back then. However, she guessed that was the result of the fall-out from Dave. Now, however, she had all her good stuff out and felt she was getting back into the sexy style she had always favoured. Considering the shade of eyeshadow she was going to use, Christine looked at her reflection carefully. There seemed to be a small dent in the side of her nose. She wondered what had caused it: had she knocked herself while asleep? As she looked at it she was reminded of an empty piercing in an ear and then remembered something Hazel had said when she had last been in the shop and they had run into each other. “Why don’t you wear your nose stud? I never see you with more than one set of earrings either. Did you chuck them out because your ex bought them for you?” Hazel had observed. Christine’s confused response had been cut off by a group of teenagers bowling noisily into the shop and she had forgotten about it until now. Was this a hole for a nose stud? She brushed back her hair to look at her ears. There sat the plain studs she had worn during the day for as long as she had been at this flat, but behind them seemed to be a couple more holes. For a moment Christine wondered how they had got there. She worried however mad it seemed, that she had been going out and getting piercings as she sleepwalked. That thought was quickly forgotten and she found herself thinking that, instead, Hazel had been right. Of course, she would have had these done long ago; it was just, well, before she had come here and got to know Gill, Hazel and her other friends in the neighbourhood she had simply been as plain and simple as she could. Now she had written Dave out of her life she needed to get her own jewellery and not leave these piercings empty. Christine went to her jewellery box. Had it always been this large? From it she pulled a small piece of card holding her nose studs and she slipped in an amethyst and silver one. Then she found large gold hoop earrings and smaller rings to fill the other piercings. As she turned her head, Christine liked the way her earrings butted gently against the side of her face and her nose stud caught the light. She looked good in these and surely that meant they were precisely right for her. Christine searched the drawer for a plain bra; she wanted something that was comfortable. Though a bra might look sexy, there was nothing less sexy than her having to tug at it and adjust it all night long. She could not remember buying this black lace one with the scarlet silk panels. Had this too been left by Kaitlyn? She had left messages for the woman with the letting agency but had had no response. Her own clothes had never materialised. While she had been able to buy some new things, her initial qualms about wearing the stuff abandoned here had quickly faded as she found that not only did it all fit her, but it matched the style she had adopted. Finally Christine found the bra she was looking for and moved to put it on. It felt awfully tight around her breasts. She looked at herself in the mirror. It did not seem possible that her breasts were larger, but that certainly seemed to be the case. They seemed firm, rounder than what she had looked at for more than twenty years. This bra was not going to do, she knew she would be terribly uncomfortable. She went back to the drawer and pulled out the lace one. It certainly seemed to be larger. It seemed wrong to wear another woman’s bra, but this one looked brand new. She unclipped her white bra at the back and felt relieved. A little self-consciously she picked up the silk and lace one. As she held it against her breasts, she knew she had made the right decision, it felt wonderful on her skin. She realised this one clipped closed at the front and for some reason that seemed unusual but right. Then into her mind came the thought of a man, not David, but some strong, unknown man unclipping this bra from her. Not for the first time, Christine shook her head as if to clear it of such thoughts. She glanced at her watch; it was almost time to go and she was still in her underwear. Anonymous 05/01/17 (Mon) 13:16:40 No.1627 **** Christine walked from room to room in the large manor house on the outskirts of town where the 1-2-1 Club meeting tonight was hosted unable. She found herself to settle. The woman at the desk seemed to think that Christine or at least ‘Tina Summers’ had been to their events before. Not for the first time did Christine wonder if this was about more than simply an error and that somehow she was being mistaken for this Tina and accessing things that were hers. For the moment, however, there were more immediate issues to deal with. Travelling here in the taxi, Christine had felt very sexy in the terracotta devore top and the knee-length suede skirt in a complementing shade. Her strappy plum-coloured high-heeled shoes seemed to set off the whole outfit and showed her smooth, well-tanned legs to their best. There were various rooms – one with a buffet and drinks; one with a disco and another like a lounge. There were single men and women here, but most seemed already to be in couples. Christine had felt a little foolish that she had misunderstood the nature of the club. It seemed more like something social for middle-aged people. Maybe they did do singles nights and this was just not one of them. At first, she had wondered if, as a result, she had dressed too sexily. However, having seen the women around the house, she realised it was not a problem. A woman had just strode passed her in a leather bra and shorts with glistening boots almost reaching her crotch. A mischievous thought told her she could dress the same if she fancied. She did wonder what kind of man she might attract if she did. Then again, she was feeling the return of that ache to have some sex and to have it soon. As a result she pressed on, taking care to ensure any men she glanced or smiled at was alone not awaiting a woman to return with a drink. “Hi, Tina!” Christine looked around at the sound of the woman’s voice. At first she did not recognised the woman. She was probably in her thirties. She wore a red shiny tube dress that clung to her. Her feet had high-heeled shoes with a transparent platform and held on to her feet only by a slender spiralled dark red strap. Her blonde hair was loose and shoulder length; her make-up heavy, so fitting in with much of that worn by the women here. “I didn’t know you were a member. We could have shared a cab.” The woman continued. Then Christine realised this was Hazel. “Erm, sorry Hazel, I was miles away. Er, yes, well I’m a new member. It seemed like a good idea to come along.” Christine did not add that now it seemed like she had made a bit of mistake. “Oh, it is, you won’t regret it. I’ve been coming here for the past three years, you know. There’s a great selection of guys and new ones always joining. Come on, join me, we’ll double our chances.” Without any better plan, Christine sat on the seat beside Hazel who was soon bubbling away about this club. It seemed that now she imagined her and Christine were members of the same club there was no reason why they should not move on to being really good friends. Christine steadily found herself entranced by Hazel’s dress. Of course, she could never have envisaged wearing something like that even ten or fifteen years ago, but she found it was intriguing to imagine what it must be like to slip into a tight dress like this. There was something delightfully simple about it, no zips or straps to worry about. Christine guessed you had to have ample breasts like Hazel to be able to pull off something like that, or, she laughed to herself, to keep it on. The fact that Hazel just had the dress and the shoes that themselves were so skimpy seemed to fit perfectly into these surroundings. “I like your dress.” Christine found herself saying. “Thank you. We need to get you one if you’re going to become a regular. This one’s from Gill’s place. I’ll bring their catalogue round. Maybe something in gold for you, maybe electric blue, what do you think?” “Erm, I don’t know it would suit me.” “Nonsense, you’ll look great in one. Why don’t you come round and we can have a girls’ night in looking through the catalogue?” Christine found it difficult to agree with Hazel, but she muttered politely that that would be nice. “Evening ladies.” Christine looked up a little startled at the sound of the man’s voice. Standing over them was a bulky man probably close to fifty. He had a head of white hair and heavy features that, for some reason, seemed reassuring. He would a long loose purple shirt open a little at the top, baggy black leather trousers and thick soled shoes. “Hi there.” Hazel responded. “What sort of evening are you having?” That question caught Christine’s attention as she realised that rather than go for a question with a yes/no answer he had asked something which would need something fuller. “Very nice one, but I’m hoping that it’s going to get even better.” Christine was not surprised by Hazel’s coquettish response, but found that she did not disapprove. In fact, it seemed like just the right thing to say. “This is my friend, Tina and I’m Hazel.” Christine knew she should feel unhappy at again being referred to as Tina and that Hazel had drawn her into the conversation with this man. She looked up at the man and smiled, to be polite. “Nice names. I’m Malcolm.” “Good to meet you Malcolm. And how ‘bout you, what are you looking for this evening?” “Oh, to spend some time with a couple of nice ladies. Maybe take it upstairs if that is what seems good. Does that sound like the kind of thing you’re looking for too?” Christine found it difficult to follow precisely what was being meant by the conversation. She guessed that Hazel was being chatted up and she thought she should feel like the gooseberry, but somehow she did not. Soon Hazel was moving closer to Malcolm and doing those little touches which signalled to Christine that she was interested in this man even if he did not notice them. “I’m hogging the limelight.” Malcolm said abruptly. For a moment Christine wondered if he was going to move on, which she felt was a shame for Hazel. However, he pulled out a small phone. “I have a mate, Derek. If you’d like Tina … you’re just the sort of woman he is keen to meet. Are you interested?” Christine found herself nodding. “You don’t have to ask twice.” “Tina’s a real goer. You should have seen her at that Fantasy Boys gig the other night, you’d think she’d blow one of them there on the stage if he’d asked.” Hazel tittered. “Derek’s not an oiled hunk, but from what I’ve heard from ladies, you’d want to try him out in the sack.” For an instant Christine wondered about how blatant all this was turning out to be. Then she chased off that thought. She needed sex and it looked like that, despite her early pessimism, she might actually be going down the path to getting some. She was an adult after all, and if this Derek was half decent, then she wondered if she could try taking ‘it upstairs’ to one of the rooms. “Dez, it’s Malc. There’s a lovely lady called Tina who’s here all on her lonesome and she’d like to see what you’d be like for company.” Malcolm chuckled. “Yes, we’re in the back lounge. See you.” He grinned at Tina and he needed not to say anything else for her to feel a bit of excitement. In some ways she felt she had trapped herself into something, but that simply made the sensation sweeter. Her courage was not going to let her out this time and if she was right, the first sex she could remember in weeks was on its way. As a man walked into the room, she looked up and smiled broadly. “Hello … Tina. I recognise you, don’t I?” For a moment, she could not place him but then realised that fate had brought her back to the man from ‘Oscar’s’. “’Oscar’s’” Christine smiled her glossed lips with genuine delight. “We were both there.” She gestured to Hazel though she was now head-to-head with Malcolm. “But you disappeared before I had a chance to come over. I saw you on the 1-2-1 website; that you were coming tonight. So that’s a dream come true – you’re my kind of woman.” Derek was about Malcolm’s age, perhaps a little younger. There was a bulk about his body that Christine imagined came from labour or outdoor activities rather than posing in the gym. He was in a black tight short-sleeved shirt and tight canvas trousers that did nothing to conceal what he kept below or that he was clearly pleased to see Christine. “Shall we leave this pair … and go get a drink Tina?” “Sure, Derek.” Christine said as she stood, taking his proffered hand. However, she turned and bent over to collect her hand bag, her hand gently sweeping over the rear of her leather skirt as she did. There was something pleasurable about playing this way. Tonight seemed to have altered abruptly and Christine felt she was going to get precisely what she needed. They were quickly with glasses of wine, but they had barely sat down again before Christine found herself leaning over to Derek and kissing him, loving the taste of the drink on his lips and the strength of his body beneath her breasts. She moved into the arc of his arm and they talked briefly about themselves and the club. Derek spoke as if Christine had always known this was a swingers’ club and she found no surprise as it was revealed to her. In fact, she understood it was what she had wanted all along. With their drinks finished, she was letting Derek lead her up the stairs, picking her way cautiously in her tight skirt and stiletto heels. Derek opened the door to a room near the end of the corridor; reds on others showed they were occupied. “In here, erm, Chris…?” “Tina.” Tina, that was how she thought of herself, this was not something Christine would ever have envisaged even thinking about, let alone doing. “Tina, this room good for you?” Tina nodded and sauntered into the room as Derek held open the door in an old fashioned way that she found she liked. He followed her in and locked the door. Tina was aware that this time things were a little different and certainly they did not want any other couple or group gate crashing. Tina wondered what she felt about Derek. She was already picking up vibes that this was not going to be simply a passing encounter and that there would be other occasions between them. She wondered if the fact that they had met at a swingers’ club suggested that there could never be anything more substantial than perhaps being each other’s favourite. As Tina crossed to the chair and low table she realised that she did not in fact worry about that. She knew there would be times when she would want a good fucking and that having a number of different partners kept things fresh. She imagined Derek would feel the same, there was no need to keep this exclusive, but she could see the advantage of having someone regular, a real fuck buddy. Tina liked that thought, she liked the direct language she was using in her mind. “Fuck.” Tina said aloud, savouring the feel of the word on her lips. “Sorry?” Derek asked as he walked towards her. “I want a fuck, I want to be fucked.” Tina said, shuddering pleasurably as she knew that that was true. Derek grinned broadly, clearly enjoying what he was here. “Well, that’s what I’m here for, precious. You want my big hard cock in you don’t you?” “Yeah, I want you riding me hard.” Tina said, feeling quickly aroused by how this conversation was going. “I want your meat deep in me.” Tina widened the stance of her legs and pressed her dress down between her legs, so that her palm pressed on her sex. She let the stretchy material spring back before hitching the hem of the dress up further, revealing more of her thighs and then her sex, barely concealed beneath her thong, with her pussy hair trimmed to a narrow strip, just on show. Tina was not surprised how sodden her pussy was, simply walking around in this dress and these shoes had begun the process and meeting Derek had developed it further. “You want some rough handling.” Derek said and Tina found she wanted it to be a statement. Now Tina stood and walked to the fireplace. She braced herself against it with her legs spread wide thrusting the hem of her dress’s skirt even higher, allowing her bum to show; she was glad she had not bothered with panties or a bra. Tina glanced over her shoulder at Derek who was shedding his jacket. Catching his eye Tina rang her tongue lasciviously around her glossed lips before turning back and closing her eyes, waiting in anticipation for whatever Derek chose to do. She was then aware of Derek moving around behind her Suddenly Derek’s hand looped around Tina pressing her shiny dress down on her midriff and the pressure made her aware of the two studs at either end of the arc into her navel. Then she felt his other hand slide between her legs and she enjoyed feeling pinned between the two. Tina realised, as his broad fingers stroked down the lips of her pussy, that he was assessing her state of arousal and as he did she stepped up another level and rocked her hips to press her moist sex harder on his fingers. Then Derek’s cock replaced his fingers. It was coated in rubber and so felt as slick as her own sex. Tina wanted more friction and worked her pussy muscles to clamp as hard as she could on her lover’s flesh. Then she rode it, pulling herself up and down on it, loving the fact she could not see him; getting off on the sense that she was being used as a gaudy sexual toy; knowing that she was that kind of brassy, tarty, sassy woman who loved sex and demanded it the way she needed it. Mentally Tina marked herself out from all those repressed women who might look at her in her glossy dress and her high heels; her tattoos and her piercings and yet she knew they signalled what was at the heart of her; the hunger that was in her body; the real need for sex like this. Those thoughts spiralled and then crashed within Tina and then she felt as if a cold wave had come down on her. In moments it heated and she shuddered and squealed, locked into the sensation, shuddering in her sexy dress, convulsing her sexy body, then shrieking, raking at the wall with her talon like nails, strengthened and ornamented at the nail bar just that day. Everything reminded her that she was simply a sexy woman and that reverberated the pleasure in what she was doing all the harder. Anonymous 05/01/17 (Mon) 13:16:54 No.1628 **** The evening was moonlit, dry and felt warm. Tina imagined it was ideal weather for dogging. She liked the fact that she could think these things through; they made her feel completely in control of her sexuality and sophisticated in knowing what she wanted and going out and getting it. Of course, the 1-2-1 Club had not been about dating, it had been about sex. However, having spent much of the night with Derek, she had found that she not only liked his cock but his company too. He had taken her out the next night which began with a meal and ended with the kind of rampant sex Tina knew she loved. There had been other men since Derek, of course, but these days it was he who took her to the club and then ‘swapped’ her in that old terminology, for another woman. He had got it on with Hazel and Tina had had a good time with Malcolm. There had been Faiz, a younger man with lovely smooth brown skin and Roel from Holland for when Tina liked it almost mechanical. There had been other men whose names she had not caught but she had nicknamed, like Mr. Clit-Licker, an attribute he shared with Derek. Tina smiled to herself as she recalled some highlights from recent weekends. As Derek turned down the narrower road Tina found that she was becoming more aroused with every mile they took towards the rendezvous point. Of course she was a swinger, she knew that she had admitted that to herself when she had gone to the 1-2-1 Club. However, she had not realised how much excitement she would get from having sex with comparative strangers in a public place. Tentatively she slipped her finger beneath her leather skirt and felt how hot and wet her sex was. She loved the fact that she was such a blatantly sexual woman and that Derek was more than happy to let her indulge that. Now Derek pulled the car off the road and Tina realised they had arrived. It was early and so far there were two other cars here with their headlights on. Tina knew that often these things would attract many other couples and voyeurs and that was part of the fun, that, before long, you could have a whole orgy going on. She found she loved the fact these locations, mundane places by day, could be turned at night into somewhere for daring sex. Tina got out of the car quickly and walked round to join Derek. Looking over the other two women already there, she guessed from the website messages that these must be Linda and Samantha. Tina knew that she had come suitably dressed. Her boots were a little longer than theirs which, like hers, were black vinyl. Also in common with her, they wore hold-up fishnet stockings. Samantha, the younger one had a tight bustier that, like Tina’s top, taut against her breasts kept round and in place by their implants, left her midriff bare, exposing her pierced navel. Linda, a little older than Tina was in a simple short and tight black satin dress. Both of them had bleached blonde hair much the same length as Tina’s. She noticed the way they moved side-to-side that they were probably as aroused as her and keen to get the sex started. “I’m Tina Summers.” Tina, said nodding to Linda and Samantha. It was probably unnecessary, but she felt pride in saying it out loud. In the next couple of minutes she was introduced to Gary who was with Samantha and Chas who was with Linda. The ice broken the women began to lift their skirts and to stroke their shaven pussies. Tina was glad that she had shaven her own, it seemed to fit with the style that went around dogging and she was pleased to fit in. Derek came and pressed a strong kiss on Tina and groped her bum. Then she turned and went back to his car. She hitched up her skirt to expose her bum and stood there with her arms resting on the car rocking back and forth tentatively, keen that someone’s cock filled her wet pussy; the crotchless panties gave easy access. Then she felt a man behind her and could hear his breathing. It was not Derek but she was not sure of the other two who it was. That ignorance, she realised, made it all the more exciting as his hand slid between her thighs and stroked at her pussy lips. Tina felt the man’s breath on her neck, glad that it was minty and that she could smell a good class after shave over any sweat. The head of his cock was now stroking back and forth on her pussy lips and Tina found herself groaning in anticipation. Her nipples were rock hard against her top and she ached to toy with her sex. Then with a jerk, the man’s cock slid right in, pressing hard and deep inside her. Tina wanted to yelp but instead let out a long moan that felt good in itself. “Smile.” Tina turned in the direction of Derek’s voice and as was usually the case now, she saw herself being filmed on his phone. She really got off on these videos, seeing herself such a sexual creature, squeezing the most out of the lifestyle she and Derek loved to share. This was too much for Tina, she knew she had been building up to a big climax all day and with all these elements in place it was all too hard to hold back. She guessed the man in her would take time to get there so she tried to focus on something mundane. However, her mind was simply full of memories that made her hot scenes from the Club, the Fantasy Boys in various fantasies; even her body tanned, tattooed and pierced brought excitement. As the wave crashed on her, Tina jerked against the car, thumping her augmented breasts into the glass, sending her back. She had lost the man’s cock, but she could hear from his groans that this was a good enough sight to please him. Tina shuddered, her body seeming to strain against the tight clothes that wrapped it. The sensation did not let up and Tina found juice running down her stockinged legs as she convulsed. The man’s jism spurted past her and she looked over her shoulder coyly loving that this one could get off on her orgasming for him. That jolted her again and Tina got another quick burst. For her this was taking her up to a place she guessed she would stay all night. She now had the desire to consume Derek in her pussy. Tina turned away from the car, not bothering to hitch her skirt down. She strutted on her long boots. “Off to a good start.” She said eagerly. “Now, Linda, how about a bit of girl-on-girl? You only live once.” The woman looked a little apprehensive, but then Tina stepped towards her and groped at her breast. The nipple beneath the satin was hard and Tina knew that this was something Linda had perhaps fantasised about but as yet had not had the courage to take the next step. Tina felt nothing special for women but she knew it got the men all fired up. More than that, she had the sense that Linda needed to really get into this scene, to be coming her dressed in leather, ready to spread her legs for any man who took her fancy; building up her pleasure, building up her sense of ‘why not?’ was going to help her get there. Anonymous 05/01/17 (Mon) 13:17:12 No.1629 **** The removal van and men had gone and Derek with them to supervise the unloading at the other end. He was going to come back and collect her. Then they were off for a special lunch to celebrate her moving in. He had asked her, the morning after the dogging and it had seemed so right. As it was, her six-month contract on the flat was coming to an end so there was no fuss with the agency. From the letter that had arrived that morning she understood they had tenants lined up eager to move in right away. Tina was glad she had hired some friends of Gill’s who cleaned professionally; the place looked better than new. She wanted it perfect for whoever was taking over from her in here; perhaps the same way she had once done. Tina felt that she and Derek knew each other well enough to see that this was not only going to work, it was going to work very well. Tina relished the fact that she would have no need to have a job. As Derek had told her, all she had to do was look beautiful and be his ‘sex goddess’, roles that Tina knew she could fulfil with intense, howling pleasure. To emphasise that she had tossed aside the old clothes she had worn to supervise the removals and now looked at the outfit she was going to wear. This was going to signal to Derek just how strong her ‘yes’ to becoming part of his life was. Tina gazed at the leathers, they were sexy and yet had a style about them. She felt a frisson about putting them on. Of course she had worn leather before but not a whole outfit like this. It seemed to indicate a particular kind of woman, one who was sexy and made no apologies about that fact. Tina knew that summed her up perfectly. There was something else too, these clothes had been bought for her by Derek and he had suggested, well, it had been firmer than that, that she should put them on. She knew that if she complied with what he had directed then she would be showing that she was happy to dress and behave in the way that he wanted. Tina considered it and realised that, in fact, that was certainly what she hoped he would understand, that she was happy for him to lead her wherever he wanted. She was tired of having to do everything for herself. To have a man look after her properly would be wonderful. Tina took a lacy thong and slipped into it. Then she reached for a plain black bustier and pulled it on. She liked the way it seemed to present up her ample breasts decorated with their tattoo for Derek’s approval. Then she turned back to the leather trousers and quickly slid them on. They were tight and she loved how the leather clung to her shapely thighs and her rounded backside. Naughtily she spanked her bum, loving the sound of the slap and began thinking how good it would be to have Derek spank her in these. Tina realised she was getting turned on just getting dressed like this and that seemed to re-emphasise that following the path Derek had laid out for her was the right decision. Quickly she eased into the jacket and swept out her long blonde hair so it hung loose down her leathered back. Finally she zipped her feet into a pair of pointed, stiletto-heeled ankle boots and then paraded in front of the mirror, really enjoying the way she looked. It was clear that Derek had an eye for ladies outfits and had selected this one perfectly for her. That was yet another thing in his favour. With that thought Tina knew that going to live with him, becoming his ‘leathered lady’, his babe, was the thing she most desired. Tina checked her make-up – the glossy lips rimmed in black, the striking mascara with a switch at the corner of her eyes that she loved and the copper shade on her eyelids. Her favourite glistening hoops swung in her ears, matching the stud in her nose; her long blonded hair cascaded down her leathered back. She felt priceless and as always when she dressed these days – excited. Something in her made sure that her libido ran at full throttle almost constantly. Distantly Tina tried to remember life before this flat, but it was incredibly vague and in many ways she felt that she had really only truly come alive when she had begun to pay attention to what her body was demanding. Tina tugged at the door of the mirrored wardrobe for one final check. However, she could not make it budge; the one in the spare bedroom proved just the same. She was sure she was just fussing, doing an unnecessary check just to fill the time. She wandered into the kitchen which had been stripped out. All that was there was a letter from the letting agency for the new residents: ‘Jenna and Honey Hunter’, it said on the address. Tina wondered what they would be like. Were they a lesbian couple? Then a text came to her phone – it was Derek confirming he was on his way. Tina cast one last look around the flat and then headed out. As she left the block she glanced across at Gill’s flat but the curtains were drawn and Tina imagined her friend was still sleeping off last night’s session at ‘Oscar’s’ to mark Tina’s leaving. It was not that she was moving that far, but then again, Gill would never pass up on an excuse for a good time and Tina knew she was much the same. She wondered how Gill would get on with this Jenna and Honey. A car packed to the top with belongings, pulled up in front of the block of flats. Two women emerged and immediately Tina saw that they were in fact mother and daughter. The mother was in a tweed skirt and blouse that would have looked dated thirty years earlier. Her chestnut hair was pulled back in a bun. Her daughter was probably in her early twenties, maybe unemployed after having returned from university. Her darker hair was in a mess. Her face was unmade-up and her figure was concealed in a duffel coat and baggy, turned-up jeans, making her look like a character from a children’s story. Tina bowled up to them. “Hello, you must be Jenna and Honey Hunter – moving into my old place.” The mother looked at Tina with clear contempt, but Tina never interested herself in anyone else’s judgement, she knew who she was and was proud of it. “No, it’s Holly Huntley.” The younger woman corrected petulantly. “And I am Jennifer Huntley, not Jenna, not even Jenny.” The mother made a face at the last name. “Ah, okay. Well, there’s a letter for you in the kitchen.” Tina said with a strange feeling that they would find many other things in the flat. “I am not impressed.” Jennifer Huntley declared to all in hearing. “That agency never seem able to get anything right.” “Beggars cannot be choosers.” Holly observed sourly. “At least it looks clean and it’s not noisy.” “Yes, the flat might be alright, especially given the situation your father left us in … but, the area.” “Oh, I am sure you’ll both find yourself fitting in very well around here before very long.” Tina said with a cheerful tone. Jennifer Huntley clearly did not know how to respond and settled on simply looking indignant. Then Derek pulled up, beeping his horn as he did. Tina smiled and waved, strutting in her sharp heels to the car, loving the creak and ripple of the tight leather that held her. As she slid into the passenger seat, she could see from her lover’s grin and the bulge in his trousers that she had done right with this outfit. In moments they were pulling away. “Ready for your new life?” Derek asked. “Always.” Tina replied. THE END
  8. Remember by Tang (ID change; MC; UG; Dominatrix) Remember (ID change; MC; UG; Dominatrix) by Tang Karen felt herself come aware of sounds and smells around her, but also that it was dark. Then she realised that her eyes were closed but she did not feel she could open them. Any fear that something was wrong, however, failed to take root. She knew she was sat and though she felt constrained, she did not sense that she was bound or shackled. Dimly she recalled going to the door and a man standing there. Had he worked for a charity? She knew that he had seemed nervous, perhaps excited. Then he had said something and whatever the word had been, Karen found she could recall nothing from that moment until this one. Karen now became aware that she was not alone and then a voice came. “Every inch that the zip goes up you feel yourself becoming more Lady Karenza.” For some reason those words felt very familiar to Karen. Was this a dream? Was she processing something she had seen or heard a day or so before? “Every inch that the zip goes up you forget who you were; you feel you are Lady Karenza; you know that you are a dominatrix.” The line was familiar, it took her back to the hypnosis show at the weekend. She had gone with Jan with the clear intention of blasting away all the bad thoughts she had had since she had found Seb cheating on her. “Another inch, the zip goes up: on the left, on the right; deeper you go into being Lady Karenza.” She had not admitted it to her friend, let alone the performer, but Karen had known she was prone to hypnosis. At the graduation ball, her friends had had to find out the performer that night to work on bringing her back when it was clear she had not come round fully. For her, on that occasion, his usual return had not been nearly enough. Though she had not confessed it to anyone, she knew she had loved the sense of being disconnected from herself. Seeking some kind of oblivion these years later, she had risked going through stage hypnosis again. “You go deeper as the zip rises higher, closing you in to these very, very long boots. They’re the boots of a dominatrix; perfect for you, Lady Karenza, because you are a dominatrix.” On Saturday, Karen had been at the head of the queue to be hypnotised. She had made a real effort with her appearance, to look a little glamorous, to be the kind of woman the hypnotist wanted on stage – a kind of ‘girl next door’ but with hints of hidden desires. Of course, she had picked a performer who specialised in risqué hypnosis and Jan, pretty much a nympho even without it, was more than happy to come along. “That’s it. The zip closing the boots; pulling the leather tight to your beautiful legs; legs that need to be worshipped. You need to be worshipped, Lady Karenza.” As Karen recalled all these things, where she was and what was happening began to make sense. However, if this was simply her mind processing what she had done or had done to her, why could she smell and feel things? Was this simply her mind fooling itself? It seemed likely. As she reflected on it, there were differences from the performance. Rather than the cheap plastic thigh boots used on stage she was getting the aroma of expensive leather. She had had a shiny plastic corset strapped on over her scoop top, but this one, as she expanded her chest, felt to be laced in place; her shoulders were bare but her arms and hands were covered in long and snug gloves. Of course, dreams did not have to stick to the script and if this was some kind of fantasy, presumably it had felt she needed an upgrade. “Another inch and another inch. Deeper and deeper; stronger and stronger, Lady Karenza.” The voice came from beneath her rather than from over her shoulder as it had done on stage. Back then, a man who had been hypnotised to be her submissive, had been putting the boots on. Now, instead it sounded as if the hypnotist himself was doing both roles. What she could not deny was how much impact the words were having. Karen realised that the thought of her of a rather down-hearted office worker was being chased away by the growing vision of her as Lady Karenza, dominatrix. “That’s it. Higher and higher, deeper and deeper. You’re Lady Karenza aren’t you? You love strutting around in your leather corset and your very long boots, using your crop on your slave, commanding him, punishing him, being worshipped by him. You love domination, that’s what turns you on; that’s what makes you hot.” As the voice continued, as the rise of the zip continued, Karen did feel as if she was sliding away from what she knew into a different place where things now seemed much clearer, much brighter and – she suddenly realised – a whole lot sexier. She realised how good it felt to be in tight leather clothes; how natural for her, but how exciting as well. Of course, these boots, these gloves, this corset were what she wore because they got her so hot. More than that, she realised, they were a kind of uniform. They marked her out of a woman of a particular sexuality; a woman who did not get off on equal sex with a man. Instead she was one who just got aroused, only found satisfaction, when she was in control, utterly; when the man was fawning and feeble before her, obeying her every order, pleasing her just the way she desired. Karen felt somehow that she was coming home. That she was sensibly abandoning the way she had tried to live for some time and was now stepping back to the place where her true identity had been concealed. With that recognition, Karen let out a grunt and jerked as if slotting back into her proper place. “Lady Karenza?” The voice asked. “Yes.” She responded; it was now the truth. “Open your eyes, mistress, please look, please see, I beg you.” Karenza did as her slave asked and found she was sat in a bowl chair, upholstered in black leather. The room was a grand bedroom with a vast four-poster bed covered in embossed leather blankets and hung with satin drapes. Close by were fittings holding a range of crops, canes and paddles, not things she could recall using, but now she found a real urge to bring down on the tight butt of a man. Around the room was a wooden horse covered in black suede with metal rings. A large ‘x’ was fixed to the wall into which Karenza found she knew that she could lock her slave. Her slave. She loved the thought of those words in her mind; even more the reality of what they represented. Karenza stood, zipping up the last of her long leather boots and striding forwards in them. The aroma of leather was all around her and she was conscious of how it held her tightly. It made her feel incredibly strong. An antique wardrobe stood in one corner and opening it she found a range of leather and even latex clothes. All black, all sexy. She wondered what she could wear outside, but knew these days that thigh-length boots especially of the best leather and long leather coats, hardly roused much attention; people even wore leather skirts in the office. She felt she would have to do little to modify how she dressed when in true dominatrix mode and that pleased her as deep inside she knew this was the core of her life. “Does the house please you mistress?” Karenza now turned back. Close to the chair crouched on the floor was a man in black latex. His face was masked; his body coated in a catsuit from which emerged his cock also sheathed in rubber. It was clear he was excited by all that was happening. Waves of thoughts, waves of desire kept sweeping across Karenza and she found she was delighted to have a human sex toy; to actually own him. That gave her a frisson that she knew could not be matched by any other sexual situation. “Yes … slave, it does.” The slave looked up. Karenza could not make out much of his features but it seemed he was pleased. As she thought about it, she imagined that he had set it up for her at his own expense. He was not simply a physical and emotional slave, she would own him financially too. “Come, show me this place.” The slave knelt up and Karenza saw the collar at his neck, leather on his rubber and with a ring at the front. On the floor was a leash and she attached this quickly and so led the slave to his feet. “Go ahead of me, slave.” Karenza commanded; he obeyed. As she walked on the high platforms and heels of her long boots, Karenza felt powerful. She recognised that was contributing to her feelings, as much as how everything around her was so sexualised. She knew it was a sensation she now would not willingly give up. She wondered if she could even step out of this place, this domain of hers and try to act in the ordinary world. Perhaps, she reflected, that was an additional element - true mastery came from mastering one own’s desires as well as those of others. For the moment, however, she knew she could do nothing but indulge to the full in what fate had so graciously given her. It turned out that they were in an old house, but one that had been refurbished with modern though Gothic designs. Erotic artwork with themes of dominance and submission hung from the walls and was shown in the sculpture in the hallway. The windows looked ordinary but soon Karenza realised they were tinted so from the outside they were dull mirrors. She was free to live in here, cavorting with her slave, dressing how she chose with no-one to watch unless she chose. Aside from the tastefully decorated rooms and the bedroom turned into a library filled with erotic books of the kind Karenza quickly realised she loved, there was a small basement made into a dungeon. It had a leather carpeted floor and a cage for her pet. As she entered it, Karenza felt heady and, snatching a crop, let rip with it on to the latex-bound buttocks of her slave. He groaned in pleasure and looked at his mistress with excited eyes, clearly pleased she was using him that way. She repeated the thwacks, loving the sound; loving the renewed sensation of power. She was heady with it; she was hot and wet from it. As more and more attributes of a dominatrix were triggered within Lady Karenza, she struggled with less and less success to recall anything of her life before. In this world, such things seemed irrelevant. She felt that only here was she her true self and so only here was what was important. Walking up from the basement to the hallway, Karenza felt a new flow of power. “I am Lady Karenza. I am a Dominatrix. I own a slave.” Asserting her creed, Karenza now was jolted; her body quivering and her feet stumbling. It seemed impossible that she could trigger an orgasm by words. However, as it rippled through her, she began to feel it was no surprise. It was apparent that she was so in her correct habitat that it was certain to always give her great pleasure. She lashed the air with her crop, eager to have people crawling around her; recognising her true greatness manifest in this place. “It pleases you mistress?” The slave asked again. “My God, yes it does slave; it is so right. You were so right in breaking me out of my chrysalis. Who has a better slave than I do?” Karenza cackled in joy, dancing around, loving the feel of the tight leather she wore as she did. She had no idea who she had been, but now there seemed no point in knowing. Now she was what she was supposed to be; the form in which she was perfect – why should she bother even questioning those facts? Now, content with her realm, the mistress led her slave into the lounge and slumped on to the large black leather sofa, spreading her booted legs and pulling him down by his leash to the floor between them. There was no point in having such a creature unless she used him for his prime purpose. This, Karenza knew as the truth, was the only proper way to be sexually serviced and did not every woman deserve a good service when she felt the need? As she lounged, considering what she precisely needed, Karenza idly thought how she did not even know what her slave looked like. She envisaged men she had known in her life before, though they now seemed liked characters from a dream. She then thought of taking this slave out publicly, not dressed as he was currently – though she felt certain there were clubs and parties where she could do that. For now, she imagined herself in one of the leather or even latex dresses upstairs, having her slave sat across a restaurant table from her, dressed plainly, a discreet collar at his neck, but her knowing all the time that at her command he would crawl over the carpet to kiss the tip of her boot. Karenza had no idea how she had got here; where here was or even what day it was. She was sure that she could find out from the television or the other devices lying around. Yet, that was not the point, she quickly realised. This house was out-of-time; it was a pocket universe which did not fit the rules of the one she might inhabit beyond it. Here she was the supreme empress; the goddess, nothing less. Here the clothes of a fetish dominatrix and slave were the normal. It was her world and one she was fully at home in. Satisfied that she was precisely where she belonged, Karenza reached to undo the studs that held her pussy into its butter soft leather thong. Beneath she was very smooth, no doubt lovingly tended to by her slave, whose face she expected to have often pressed against her pussy lips. He rose on his knees and moved towards her. “Yes, slave, please do your duty. Lick me, stroke me, until I orgasm.” Karenza felt a chill at those words, for a moment hardly believing them to be true but then knowing they were and that they were completely real. As the latex-covered cheeks of her slave slid between her thighs and his tongue gently came out to nuzzle her clitoris, Karenza almost convulsed from so much pleasure. Then she felt greedy for it. She felt she deserved this; she deserved all of this, every last scrap. She was the queen, the goddess in her realm and what pleased her was the very reason for its existence. THE END
  9. The Replacement Lover by Tang (race change; body mod) This is not a sequel to my story ‘Hahsni’ but is set in the same ‘universe’. The Replacement Lover (race change; body mod) by Tang She was there again: the young Chinese woman off Susan’s course. Susan now knew her name: Suyin. Like a lot of the Chinese, she also took a Western name and the fact she called herself ‘Susan’ made the situation doubly uncomfortable, especially with the surname. There had already been an occasion when she had to emphasise that she was Susan Leyton to distinguish herself from Suyin Lei. Suyin was sat next to Russell at the long library desk. Though both were concentrating on the laptops and sometimes even looked at one of the books stacked on the desk, the closeness of them, let alone the occasional shared gazes and small smiles, would indicate to anyone that they were together. Susan was not really clear when that had happened, perhaps two or three weeks back. Susan had encountered Russell in the freshers week; he lived on the same corridor in the student halls as Jo, who Susan had known vaguely in college. She had got to know Jo better since they had both pitched up at the same university. Susan had played it cool with Russell; perhaps, she now reflected, too cool. However, there was something about him, his ability to make decent conversation and to have fun without ending up bent over a kerb vomiting, that appealed to Susan. He got his course work done to a good standard without appearing to be a swot. He was handsome but not in that pretty way that Susan felt too many women of her generation fell for. Things seemed to be going well. She ran into Russell when they were parts of various groups out on a night on campus or in town. Susan made sure that she ended up in his sub-group if they fragmented and certainly that she would be sitting next to him. In her eyes, it must be only a matter of time before they ended up alone together. He would ask her out or ask if she would sleep with him or something somewhere in between – Susan’s fantasies varied quite considerably. However, then, something went wrong. If asked, Susan would have said it had been sometime after that evening when they had not been able to get into the club and the bus service had been re-routed. Susan was not clear if she had ‘preloaded’ on drinks or had been ill, but her memories of what precisely had happened were a bit fuzzy. From what she had been able to piece together, Susan recalled that her group, by that time, was down to five or six. Jo and Amy were certainly there, Russell, Jack and G, too, she was certain. They had run into two Chinese students who had got lost. The minicab they were waiting for had not turned up. The seven or eight or nine of them had all been pretty much in the same boat. Susan had all the city’s taxi companies listed on her phone and had managed to arrange them finally to pick up both groups from the edge of the commercial park. For some reason Susan had ended up in the taxi with G who has by this stage nearly comatose and two of the Chinese women. She recalled one of them was Qiaohui, it had sounded like ‘Chow-huey’ and anyway, she called herself Charlotte; a lot of them adopted British names while studying. Thinking back, Susan imagined that there must have been one more Chinese woman: Suyin, who went in the other taxi, as, from that night on, she had become Russell’s friend. Susan tried to pretend that Suyin was not his girlfriend but realised that lie was wearing thin. The following Monday Susan had positioned herself at the seat close to where she knew Russell habitually sat. On a couple of occasions she had ‘bumped into him’ or, catching him yawning, had suggested they go for a cup of coffee. Then suddenly, Suyin, though she did not know her name at the time, was there; sat right next to Russell. Even from the first time, it was apparent they were not simply friends from the same course. At first Susan could not even remember seeing Suyin in her lectures, but imagined that, given how quiet the Chinese students were in class and how they tended to cluster together, she could have overlooked her. Now, however, Susan seemed unable to miss her. Suyin was clearly a good student, but she dressed in a stylish, indeed sexy way, that Susan had to fight hard not to admit that she liked. Her long black hair bracketed her cute Chinese face perfectly. Her slender legs were shown off by the shiny black leggings she favoured and the over-the-knee or heeled ankle boots she alternated between. She wore the biker-style leather jacket or a fitted one and the black of her outfit was sometimes lifted by white or red patterned tops she wore enhancing her not over-generous but shapely bust. On other occasions, she wore plain silk blouses in teal or maroon. Though she would not have admitted it, Susan’s style over the past couple of weeks, perhaps, had altered in response to what Suyin wore. She had treated herself to her own leather jacket and her skinny jeans had been replaced by black leggings, some, like the ones she wore today before today with a PU strip down them. Her trainers, no matter how new they were, had been consigned to the back of the wardrobe. She now tried to look her best teetering on the heels of her new ankle boots even though their heels were chunky rather than stiletto. This afternoon was no different. Russell was there and Suyin was sat next to him. They were working hard on their laptops. Susan felt unhappy that that. They seemed to be having a full-on relationship but it appeared to be beneficial to their studies rather than distracting from them. If Suyin had led Russell away from his work, then, Susan felt, she could feel angry with, or at least disapproving of, her. On this basis, there were no grounds for discontent except her own failings to have jumped in sooner. Susan tried to focus back on the book she had in front of her and then the e-journal open on her tablet. However, she found she could not help but glance once more back at Russell and the young Chinese woman with him. For a moment Susan wondered if she was being foolish making such a fuss over Russell. She guessed, in part, it was that she felt she had let him slip through her fingers, rather than him being a man beyond her reach from the first. She had let her hair grow long and had now dyed it black. She worried that it was going a bit far, but if it was the style that Russell liked, then it seemed only fair that she get on a level playing field with Suyin. Perhaps today they could have been sisters. However, nothing Susan did seemed to catch Russell’s attention. Then the couple indulged in a long kiss and smiled. Susan felt she had failed utterly. Last edited by Tang on Thu Apr 07, 2016 5:55 am, edited 2 times in total. Tang Transformation Master Posts: 123 Joined: Wed Feb 27, 2013 1:46 am Top Re: The Replacement Lover by Tang (race; body mod) Postby Tang » Thu Apr 07, 2016 5:47 am Walking away, trying to be mature about it, Susan found herself in a part of the library where she did not usually go. As she did, she caught sight of Charlotte smiling and waving for her to come over. Susan felt it might be good to talk to her, not least so that she did not feel that she was prejudiced against all the Chinese students simply because of the actions of one. She told herself that even that attitude was mean spirited. After all, Russell was a desirable man, it made sense that other women would be interested in getting to know him; to date him. Susan realised she had not run into Charlotte since the night out and recognised it would seem impolite if she blanked her now. She was sat with another Chinese woman of a similar build, dressed in that mix of painfully cute and very sexy some of them favoured – very fluffy sweater and flat ankle boots rimmed with faux fur, but between slick black leggings that Susan felt envious of. She had invested in a pair, but so far had not dared to wear them. “Susan, hello.” Charlotte said. “Qiaohui, good to see you.” Susan replied a little surprised how the woman’s name came to her lips. The one with Charlotte looked up and smiled as if a little surprised to see her. “You remember Jiaying – Joyce, from the evening when you helped us get back?” Now looking at the woman, Susan realised this was the one, rather than Suyin that she had helped. She wondered if she was becoming more adept at telling the Chinese women apart by more than simply their clothes. Many had similar long straight hairstyles and the same square glasses, but now Susan felt she could tell Jiaying very easily from Qiaohui and indeed from Suyin. “We should all go out together, for the New Year.” Qiaohui suggested. Somehow Susan found she knew she meant Chinese New Year; she even knew which animal would be that year’s. Quickly Susan realised that the idea of hanging out with these women seemed good. There was something about them which felt right. Furthermore, they did not seem averse to having her as a friend. For a moment Susan wondered if she had been too focused on Russell and as a result had neglected other social contacts she could have been making. “That sounds excellent.” Susan responded with genuine enthusiasm. Her response clearly pleased Qiaohui and Jiaying. For a moment she felt like complimenting Qiaohui on how good her English seemed to have become; there was not even a trace of accent. However, Susan recognised that was probably patronising, especially given how she knew no Chinese. “Can I ask you something?” “Sure.” “Do you know Suyin?” “Lei Suyin?” Qiaohui asked. Susan knew Chinese put the surname first, so this had to be the one. She guessed there were probably other Suyins at the university and Qiaohui might know them too. “Yes.” “Do you know her? She’s on your course?” From the corner of her eye Jiaying seemed to be mouthing something to her friend, but Susan did not feel that it was anything nasty. “Yes. That’s the one.” “Have you spoken with her? She’s lovely, very friendly, just like you: stylish, clever too. I think you’d get on very well.” Susan now wished she had not asked. She knew many of these things about Suyin and was sure if, it was not for the rivalry over Russell, they could have got along; perhaps even been friends. “Do you know her well? Have you invited her along for New Year?” Susan asked. Susan wondered if she would opt out if Suyin was coming along too. She had no desire for awkward silences between them to spoil the evening. “Yes, I know her pretty well; I am getting to know her better.” Qiaohui responded. “Yes, I invited her to come with us, just today.” “Oh, okay.” “You have a lot in common, I am sure you would get on very well; you’re in the same situation.” Qiaohui persisted. Susan smiled at that. It was really what was the problem. They were on the same course and fancied the same man. If they had been more different, perhaps it would have been better. “I know.” Jianying now piped up. “You can get on with us, yes, because we have met before. Why don’t we introduce you to Suyin? Come here tomorrow at this time and we’ll set it up.” “Ye-es.” Susan responded tentatively. She told herself she had to be grown-up about this. After all she was not a teenager any longer, she was a university student and that meant she had to be mature. She had no doubt that this would not be the last time that someone else would beat her to a man who caught her eye. Susan caught sight of the clock. “Sorry, I need to get down to the short loan section. Melita said she’d be bringing back a copy of Stephenson so I want to take it straight out.” “Sure.” Qiaohu smiled. Susan realised the woman was simply good to talk to; less fussy than many of the others she knew here who always seemed to want to talk mainly about themselves and kept trailing off in conversations to check something on their phone. “See you tomorrow.” Jianying said, smiling. It seemed she had a private joke going on in her head, but somehow Susan knew it was not at her expense. She guessed she did not know either of the women well, but there was something about them that seemed able to combine being studious with being stylish and fun; probably the kind of person she needed as friends. As she walked away from the desk where the two Chinese women were sat, Susan noticed a couple of the people gazing at her. It was not as if university libraries were silent places these days. There was always someone speaking on their phone or playing something without headphones, especially Classical music, on their laptops or tablets. She caught the eye of a lanky Chinese man and he smiled at her. For a moment Susan envisaged levelling the score and simply asking him out. However, the demands of the rules of the short-loan collection drove her on now and she focused on getting the book she needed. Anonymous 05/01/17 (Mon) 13:11:02 No.1632 **** Susan felt wired rather than tired. She had rushed through the Stephenson book as best she could and had brought it back to the short-loan collection. Now she was simply drifting around the library feeling she had done enough for today, but too on edge to really settle to something else. Before leaving her room, she had found herself dressing up in the clothes she had not dared to wear yet even since she had been investing in things she thought might attract Russell. Given how Qiaohu and Jianying dressed and they seemed to be on the cusp of becoming friends of hers, she guessed it would not do to look dowdy. He was there. Susan realised she had come on to the level where Russell often sat and he was still there. More than that, he was alone. Feeling a strange thrill, perhaps simply mischievous, Susan walked up and down close to Russell, bending over to show her bum and thighs to best effect in her shiniest leggings, pulling her leather jacket tight against the black lace panelled top she wore. She tossed her head so that her long, now black, hair swept over her shoulders. Russell looked up and smiled. “Susan, what are you doing?” For a moment she felt embarrassed; she felt foolish. However, the fact that she had managed to snare Russell’s attention appeared to be a reward for that unease. “Come and sit down. I’m almost finished. Then maybe we can get some food.” Susan wondered if this was a joke. She knew, however, that Russell was not one to do that: he was not sombre but he took things seriously. He might not look at her in the way that she would have wanted, but she had no sense that he would toy with her. She wondered if Suyin would be jealous, yet envisaging the Chinese woman springing out and challenging her for ‘stealing’ her boyfriend did not fit. Perhaps they had been getting too close and Russell and maybe Suyin herself had realised they needed to keep up a broader range of friends. If that was the case, Susan felt she should adhere to her plan of being mature about all of this. She did not need to be asked twice, she sat down next to Russell and looked over at the essay he was finishing. Then his hand slid out and rested on her thigh before gently sliding back and forth over its shiny coating. For a moment Susan wondered if she was dreaming or was something else going on? Had Russell and Suyin had a row? Had they split up and he was turning to her as the easiest to catch on the rebound? Was he being a typical man and seeing nothing wrong in having two women on the go at once? Quickly Susan analysed her feelings about these things and found that if that was what he wanted, she was not averse to it. “You mean ‘the cause of’ rather than ‘because of’ – there.” Susan pointed to the text of his essay. “Your English is coming along really well.” Russell responded. Susan guessed it was a joke but she saw that he made the correction. He saved and then shut down the laptop. He turned to face her. “No hello kiss?” He asked. Russell lent in and Susan responded, feeling she should not pass up the chance. Russell’s lips were soft on hers and she peaked her tongue between them as they kissed. That felt good and Susan realising she was getting aroused by this. The tight fitting clothes she wore seemed to add to that and she was very glad she had dressed up. They broke and Russell swept her long black hair away from her face as if they were used to being so close to each other. Deep within her, her mind was questioning what she was doing, torn between finally getting Russell in the way she wanted and yet feeling like a love rat on a young woman who deserved better. “So, what do you want to do?” Russell asked, one hand toying with Susan’s hair; the other sitting proprietorially on her thigh. “I’m really horny.” Susan confessed but then almost gulped it down, shocked at herself from saying that aloud. “I love the way you say that. Well, we can see what we can do about that, but first I really need some food. You don’t want my tummy rumbling while we’re at it do you?” It took a moment for Susan to realise that Russell had just agreed to sex with her. “What about Suyin?” Russell chuckled. “We’ll deal with your ‘hunger’ once we’ve had something to eat, okay?” Susan felt it was no real answer but went with it. Russell held her hand as they walked from the library and Susan felt that even if this was a short-lived thing, it still made her feel good. They headed over to the student shop. On the way Russell suggested rather than eating in one of the campus outlets, given how she felt, they get something to take out and eat in bed. To Susan, conscious of Suyin or one of her friends bowling up and challenging her, agreed it was the best plan. As they walked along the food section, Susan noted how many items were for Chinese students and she felt a sudden urge for noodles in a miso soup. “How about these? They are quick and easy.” “What flavour is that?” Russell asked. Susan was surprised he could not see for himself, but maybe his eyes were tired. “Hot and sour shrimp.” “Okay, might be a bit strong for me.” “Rice noodles with spicy beef?” Susan suggested for him instead. “Sounds good.” Susan found the brand she preferred; fresh ones in a box and soon they were at the check-out. Russell added a couple of Snow beers which they had started selling. It was the most popular brand in China, though Susan was not really sure how she knew that. Had it been something mentioned in one of the lectures on brands? It did not matter as she knew she liked the taste. Soon they were out of the shop and trekking back to Russell’s room. Susan envisaged them being a couple, heading back from the shops to their flat on Saturday evening, for sex and then a lazy Sunday doing much the same. For some reason, though, when she thought about what kind of flat she wanted, she envisaged looking out over the lights of Shanghai. She laughed, guessing the food she had bought was having an impact or maybe it was just her impatience to get Russell’s cock inside her. Soon they were in bed with their bowls of noodles and their beers. Susan had provided Russell with a strip tease, sliding out of her sexy clothes. Her body seemed a bit pale and she wondered if she had lost some weight. Coming off the heels of her boots, she also felt a little shorter. However, the reaction from Russell quickly dismissed such concerns and she quickly joined him in bed. The food finished, they gazed at each other for some moments and then Susan put her hand on Russell’s naked chest. The space in a student’s bed was limited and she looked forward to the time when they could get away somewhere to a place with one of a decent size. All kinds of sexual games began to come to mind. For now, she was enjoying the proximity of Russell’s body. It was lean and lightly hairy but she found she liked that; something a little exotic in her view. Russell proved content to let Susan slide the condom on his hard cock and sit back propped up on pillows as Susan straddled him. She found herself sliding slowly up and down his cock, controlling the angle and speed to give herself the greatest sensation. Then gently Russell reached out and caught her erect clitoris between his fingers. At that sensation, Susan tossed back her long black hair and moaned aloud. She felt the reaction from Russell’s cock deep inside her and so eased up and off him to let his ardour cool a little. She thought to herself that it was as if they had done this before; that they knew what the other liked. She guessed that made Russell all the more special, if he could be this alert to her needs on just the first attempt. Yet, as she continued the long, slow, sex, Susan strangely felt that this was not the first time; almost as if she could remember previous occasions in this very room doing this or something similar. No concern, however, proved capable of dousing the lust that Susan was feeling. She simply grinned as she realised that when she had woken this morning she had thought that she was close to losing any chance with Russell. While there might be complications ahead, for now, she was winning, it was her body that his cock was being slid in and out of. Susan toyed with her pert breasts, drinking in all that she could of this session; burning it into her memory until she turned some corner and she realised she was on the rise of an orgasm. Russell’s encompassing fingers were almost too much but she could not break from them and the pleasure they were pumping into her. She felt shackled to his cock, riding it harder and faster now, unable to slow her drive to climax. Then she shook, her pussy clamping hard down on his cock and in return its hardness pushing her literally toppling over the edge, splashing down into the orgasm. Her body felt cold; her body felt hot; she felt as if her skin rippled with electricity and her body pulsed with waves of sensation. As Susan tumbled from her boyfriend to lie jammed beside him, she saw his cock was still erect. Catching her breath she encompassed its head in the ring of her fingers and gently grasped his balls. “That’s it, all the way.” Susan said breathlessly. Russell turned to look at her and then closed his eyes as his cock throbbed and jerked in her hand looking to utterly fill the rubber with his jism. Panting he slumped back. Susan watched him as he cleaned up and then came to lie with her, encompassing her body within his bigger form, pulling the duvet back over them both. Anonymous 05/01/17 (Mon) 13:11:21 No.1633 >>930 **** Susan awoke to Russell bringing a cup of tea. Hers had no milk in it and she wondered if he had run out. There were large leaves in the bottom of the cup but she found it really refreshing. It was early morning but she felt eager to get on the go; to shower and put on fresh clothes. “What are your plans?” Susan asked. In part she was wondering how he was going to deal with all of this and Suyin. Maybe she had been right and they had broken up or at least were on a ‘break’. “I’ve finished the essay and you’ve done yours. How about going for a walk out to one of the villages? I know you’re not keen on the full-on roast dinners but they usually serve something fish or even Thai food, you like that.” For a moment, Susan was going to challenge Russell’s view of her tastes, but then realised that he was precisely right. It seemed like the perfect idea. If he wanted to spend more time with her, she knew she was not going to question it. “Sounds good.” Susan replied. She envisaged putting on her leather over-the-knee boots and her longer leather jacket in case some places were muddy; she did not want to spoil this outfit. Susan got up from the bed, naked and let Russell come and kiss and stroke her skin. She padded to his small bathroom. That was the reason why they came here, his room was one of the modern ones with a bathroom en-suite. They were seen as suitable for conference attendees during the holidays. As she switched on the light and looked in the mirror, Susan almost jumped back, startled. She blinked and looked again, but in moments realised that what she saw was for real. The mirror did not show the face she knew; instead it showed Suyin. Yet, that was impossible. For a moment, she wondered if this was a dream, but the feel of the cold floor and the breeze from the bedroom were real enough. Susan turned side on and looked at her slender body, the long black hair which looked its natural shade rather than dyed. Then she went closer to the mirror to study the pretty Oriental face she now wore. Susan ran her finger around her elliptical eyes and what it felt matched her reflection. For a moment she felt as if she was in a stranger’s body, but that quickly faded and Susan could not suppress the growing contentment she felt in looking like this. Susan’s mind ran with all kinds of thoughts but none of them seemed feasible. In part she was disappointed. She had believed that Russell had wanted to be with her – Susan Leyton not with Lei Suyin. There was now no question why he had been happy to be intimate with her, he had believed it was with his established girlfriend rather than some new doppelganger or avatar or whatever Susan had somehow become. Accepting that she was going to find no rational explanation, Susan pondered what would happen now she looked like Chinese woman and one that already existed and was at this university. How would she explain this to her family? What happened when she turned up in seminars saying she was actually Susan Leyton? There was so much to work out. She had to hope that this was only some anomaly. She guessed that the best place for now was to be here with Russell, who was happy to have Suyin or at least someone looking like her, in his room. Calming herself, Susan showered and dried her long hair. Then she went back to the bedroom where her clothes were laid out. She found the return of the thrill of getting back into these snug and sexy things, recognising that she could enjoy how they made her feel even if she believed they were part of this pretence. It seemed ironic that she had tried to mimic Suyin so hard that she had come to resemble her. Susan mustered a brave and loving face, she did not want to worry Russell especially as he might be her only ally. “Susan, are you alright?” Russell asked. “Yes, probably just a bit tired.” “Well, look, let’s not set off until twelve. You get your head down and I’ll pick you up at your room.” “Sounds good.” Susan smiled and gave him a kiss. He was a decent man and a pretty skilled lover. She had been right about him, she knew for sure now. It just seemed a shame that she had had to come to resemble another woman in order to have those facts confirmed. As Susan walked across the campus, she found herself looking at her reflection in every window. It never wavered; it just continued to show an attractive Chinese woman. Stepping into her room, Susan felt glad to be back in her small refuge. However, as she looked, she realised that here things had changed too. Though there were the English language books she knew, there were also a number which if she looked at hard, she realised were in Chinese. The pictures of K-pop bands and Chinese movie stars on the wall, looked unusual, but she found they were familiar. The photo of her family was the same as she knew – mother, father, brother, but looking like the relatives Lei Suyin would have in the place of the Leytons. Now she found herself recalling that her parents had paid the one-child policy fine for having her brother. Susan slumped on her bed. Then stood to splash water from her sink on her face. However, it was clear she was not waking up from this. Dimly she slumped back on the bed, gazing at the ceiling and listening to the sounds of other students beginning to stir in the building around her. As she began to recall memories of Zhejiang province, Susan began to wonder if she had been ill or had some kind of break-down. Had she been Suyin all along? Had calling herself ‘Susan’ for the ease of the British meant she had begun to think that she was a British woman herself? Had she really come to believe she had been born and brought up here, with all the equivalents of her true life, but UK style? She remembered the saying of Zhuang Zhou questioning whether he was a man who had dreamt he was a butterfly or a butterfly dreaming he was a man. If he had had that sensation over two thousand years ago, how much easier was it in this age of constant media bombardment and a surfeit of stress and caffeine? There was a knock at the door and for a moment Susan wondered if it was Russell. “Suyin, are you there?” Susan went chill at the sound. She recognised it in an instant: it was Qiaohu’s voice. Did she know what had happened? Was she behind it? Susan tried to remember back to when this had started. Surely it had been the day after she had helped Qiaohu and Jianying get back from town. Susan jumped up and opened the door. Qiaohu was there smiling. She was dressed in a short black raincoat and long black suede boots. “Erm, come in.” Susan said, not simply to be polite. Qiaohu walked in then turned to hug Susan. “I am glad that you made the right choice.” Susan stepped back. “What choice?” “To accept my thank you gift.” For a moment Susan wondered if there was something she had missed and they were talking at cross-purposes. “To become Suyin.” Qiaohu continued. “You did this?” Susan pointed to her face. Qiaohu nodded and smiled. “Susan, of course. It was to thank you for being so friendly, so helpful. I … my family have special skills. So naturally, I have made you Chinese, it is a wonderful gift for you. Look around: on your course, in this university, Chinese are the majority. Don’t you want to fit in? Soon China will run the world and I didn’t want such a nice woman as you to be left on the losing side.” “But I am not Chinese.” Susan protested. “Then why are we speaking in Chinese?” For a moment Susan was going to deny that they were but somehow she recognised the way she was forming words. Then she recalled how she had read the titles of all the books on the shelf; even the noodle packets the day before, without difficulty. “Anyway, this is what you truly wanted.” Qiaohu continued. “You have been dressing as Suyin; you have grown your hair the same. The new form would not have taken if you had been really opposed to it. You worked hard to become a sexy Chinese woman and you have succeeded. The last piece was that you got the boyfriend you desired. If nothing else, that confirmed that you really, really wanted the gift I was offering.” Susan thought perhaps it was too early to consider Russell her boyfriend, but there was a nice feel to that thought. She found she was focusing on that rather than the impossibility of what Qiaohu was telling her. Susan tried to concentrate on that. “Okay, but what has happened to Suyin?” “You are her. There is no other.” “But I saw her.” “Not yesterday though, did you?” “No.” Susan conceded. “That was because you had slipped into the form I had provided. You are now Lei Suyin; Susan Leyton has gone.” “Gone where?” “She never existed. As I say, we have powers to alter reality.” “So you can change me back?” “Why? Why would I do that? You had a choice. If you had walked away, then the jutihua would have faded.” “So what would Russell have done? He fell in love with her.” “Well, she is just a Chinese version of you, so, of course, he responded to how you feel about him. Suyin has not gone, she is with him.” Susan wondered if she wanted to get back to being the British her, she would have to give up on Russell. Then how would he cope with Suyin, his ‘Susan’, disappearing? Susan stopped herself: that was not a sufficient reason for her simply to remain what Qiaohu had made her. “So, you are saying there is no way back from this? I am stuck as Suyin forever more?” Qiaohu nodded. “I thought you’d love that fact.” “But I can remember that I am Susan Leyton.” “Can you? Speak to me in your best English.” Susan attempted to recite a poem. Immediately she recognised it as ‘Quiet Night Thoughts’ by Li Bai and then as she sounded it out in English, even she picked up how strong her accent was. Yes, her English was good, but no-one would imagine her to be a native speaker; not even British Chinese. “Tell me of your childhood.” Immediately images came to mind of Wenzhou rather than Weybridge and quickly she was recalling her lessons in a Chinese school; her brother Dai rather than David. “It takes time for all the ripples to reach their end. This is the reality, Suyin, this is what you are.” Susan struggled to grasp any memory she had of herself as someone British and Caucasian, but every time she turned to something she found it overwritten by some equivalent Chinese experience. Then she shook with a few shudders, not unpleasant, more that the final pieces slipped into place. “Suyin – how are you?” Suyin smiled at her good friend Qiaohu, also from Zhejiang province like herself. “I’m feeling so good.” “You spent the night with Russell?” “Yes, he’s so good in bed.” Suyin tittered. “Come, let’s go and make some Keemun Black Tea and you can tell me all about it.” Suyin knew that Russell would be calling round in a few hours, but she was eager to have a chat with one of her female friends, excited by how her relationship was going. Chatting warmly in Mandarin, the two Chinese women headed to the kitchen to make their tea. THE END
  10. Filling Out the Role(BBW,Corrupt, BE,Culture change) MC FD GR FT SF NC Model Bethany finds herself slowly becoming a burlesque bad girl when she tries out for a plus-sized troop. Filling Out the Role By Joel and Edward Hyde Bethany Bishop had made a more then comfortable living modeling for the majority of her adult life. As far as models went she was exceedingly basic. She was your standard barbie doll look alike. She was tall, tan, blonde, and thin, with the type of feature’s that while attractive made her hardly distinguishable from any other generic cheerleader dancer or actress. In short she was the perfect hanger for clothes. Attractive enough to hold one’s attention but not unique enough in any way to distract from the clothing. Despite this Bethany had a very overinflated opinion of herself. Which to be fair how could one blame her she’d been able to make a living off simply looking pretty that was no small feat. So what if her delusions of transitioning into acting one day were totally unfounded beyond being just another generically good looking face in a few commercials. In most aspects Bethany was surprisingly average as far as attractive ladies went. Her taste in music consisted almost exclusively to the latest on the pop chart and her taste in television consisted little beyond the Kardashians and other reality stars she wished to emulate. Her taste in movies consisted entirely of awful comedies and the latest chick flicks. And she read virtually nothing save for the latest gossip and fashion rags. Her pastimes included nothing else of much interest either shopping, partying, guys, repeat basically summed it up. With the exception of one dark little secret a passion Bethany had kept completely to herself. Bethany had a secret interest in burlesque. She’d briefly dated a guy that was seriously into it and she’d been totally enamored by it. While one may see very little difference between it and her day job of modeling Bethany was drawn to the vast differences. These ladies weren’t just racks for clothes they were individuals each with a unique routine and look. They also didn’t take direction from photographers, directors, managers etc instead totally owning their stage. Also unlike her they had unique beauties boasting thicker figures, bustier chests, more mature looks, wild hair, tattoos, or any combination of the above. They were also larger than life characters with over the top stage names and attitudes. Bethany had been instantly drawn to the sharp contrast to her own trade. Periodically she’d even catch herself fantasying about a larger than life character for herself. With a different name, a different personality, a different look! It seemed at least a small part of Bethany desperately wanted to be unique, to stand out, too have something to say. Every so often Bethany even snuck out to attend a club a local troop performed at. This place was not one of her normal hangs it was seedy and catered to the type of underground punk, comedy and other forms of entertainment that she would be confused and angered by. Her interest in the art got her to venture out every so often though. The group was a talented one too the way they commanded a room and dominated a stage was awe inspiring. They weren’t particularly attractive in the traditional sense though. They were almost uniformly big gals not a one of them probably weighing in at under 200 pounds. And while a small part of Bethany had to admit these babes carried their weight with a degree of confidence and swagger that simply had to be considered sexy Bethany mostly found it cute. If these heifers could drive a crowd wild she could only imagine what she could do with her perfect 10 looks and incredible size two figure. Bethany kept her thoughts to herself though. If it got out that she ever did something like that what would her friends say, her clients, her contacts? No her fantasies would have to stay that just fantasy’s. Until one day the cattiness of her fellow models made her change her mind. Bethany had just finished a lucrative catwalk for a new designer line and while she changed clothes she overheard some of her supposed “friends” talking about her. “God how the hell does that basic bitch get all the good gigs?” A voice she thought she recognized as Kim a model several years younger than her and a few tiers lower on the career ladder lamented. “Ugh don’t even get me started basic is the perfect description.” Another voice she thought she recognized as Stacy a model closer to her age she had thought of as something of a friend. “I freaking know right!? I swear that chick has no style no personality she’s just a total copycat. Whatever is on the cover of Glamour or Cosmo she wears. And has she ever had a haircut that didn’t belong to Taylor Swift first?” Kim giggled. “Totally and she’s such an airhead. Like I know we’re models but shit even in a room full of other airheads she makes me feel smart.” Stacy continued. “Totally I don’t know how she gets all the good gigs?” Kim huffed. “Cause she’s fucking Jack I figure.” Stacy replied. “Lucky bitch leave it to her to bribe the only manager that’s not gay or taken with sex!” Kim barked. “It’s cool hun I wouldn’t worry about it too much. She’s approaching her expiration date it’ll be our time soon.” Stacy laughed. “How you figure?” Kim asked. “Cause she’s about to be 26 and she still hasn’t really made it yet. Pretty soon the offers will mostly dry up and even if she does have Jack wrapped around her finger he’ll have to start pushing a new face.” Stacy explained. “And then it will be our turn!” Kim exclaimed. Bethany then stormed out of the dressing room and to her car absolutely livid! She’d have punched something if she wasn’t terrified jacking up her nails might cost her a job. Then by fate or happen stance she saw a flyer under her windshield wiper. Bethany picked it up and realized it was for that crumby club she occasionally checked out the burlesque babes at. It read “Boom Boom Bombshells seeking a replacement for Bodacious Becky think you have what it takes?” And then try out dates were listed below. Bethany then briefly studied the pic of “Bodacious Becky” Like the rest Bodacious Becky was a severely overfed girl tipping the scales at somewhere in the ball park of 250 pounds. To even someone not into women of size they would admit that she was well proportioned with a sturdy firmness to her bulk. Becky was incredibly curvaceous with a wild sexy school girl from hell look. She had short spiky hair thick nerdy glasses clothed in a dark sexy school girl uniform type top and a black plaid skirt. If not for the well fed gut protruding from between the skirt and the shirt even Bethany would have conceded that she was hot. Between the belly and thick thighs though Bethany instantly declared her a heifer. “Screw it if that sorta cute fat chick could do it so could she! She’d prove those bitches wrong she wasn’t ready to be put out to pasture yet! Dita Von Teese was in her forties and still getting loads of lucrative work. She’d show them she’d corner a whole other market not on those bitches radar and if things went really well she could go public so to speak and use the experience to majorly bulk up her modeling portfolio.” Bethany could all but see it know she’d try out for that troop get some experience then reenergize her brand from there. Part 2 Bethany had practiced her routine for about a week assembled an outfit and came up with a moniker for herself. It was simple she knew but when they saw what an improvement she was on their former heifer she doubted they’d mind. She’d purchased a school girl outfit of her own consisting of fishnet stockings, a grayish plaid skirt, black belt, white blouse, gray jacket, and one of those little ladies mini ties to lay between her breasts. Bethany then gave herself a touch of bad girl edge via much darker makeup then she would normally wear and a medium length dirty blonde wig fixed in an edgy style. And thus “Beautiful Becky” was born. It was simple yes but her name also began with "Be" so she figured she had just as much right to the Becky moniker and plus compared to that last heifer she was hella beautiful. Feeling quite confident Bethany throw on a jacket and headed to the club. The troop must have rented it out for the night for auditions because it was totally empty when she arrived save for the four dancers. Upon entering a severely plump and busty red head dressed in an edgier version of 50s office girl attire remarked with a laugh “You lost skinny I’m not sure you belong here?” “Yeah twiggy I’m not sure where you’re supposed to be right now but this ain’t it.” A Latina babe a few years older than Bethany with a majorly overfed pear shape balanced out by some obviously fake tits and an over the top punk/metal look. “Ladies ladies goodness you can be such little bitches sometimes. She’s obviously looking to audition aren’t you hun?” A southern lady in her late 30s or early 40s declared with a little twang to her accent. Bethany glanced her way recognizing her from one of her previous trips to the club. She was an attractive lady even Bethany had to admit that clothed in a revealing black dress with a look akin to the late Anna Nicole but a good fifty pounds fatter than even the late models heaviest days. While rather tubby Bethany noted just how shapely and firm all her bulk was like despite her size she waddled into the gym fairly regularly. “Umm that’s right.” Bethany answered meekly. “I don’t know she’s awful skinny ain’t she.” A young black lady as overfed as the rest with a wild white Mohawk type hairdo butted in. “Oh hush darlin. You may have forgotten but I remember you use to be a twiggy little thing yourself. The Anna Nicole look alike giggled. “Now honey don’t you pay those big bullies no mind. Now you can call me Jayne, that there with the red hair is Tess, Latina chicka is Blare, and that’s Sugar we’re happy to have you right ladies?” Jayne declared. “Sure, Whatever, Yeah…” Were more or less the responses of the other ladies. “And you are?” Jayne inquired. “Oh um Bethany.” She answered. “Sorry guess I should have been more specific we don’t use Christian name’s here I mean what’s your stage handle?” Jayne replied. “Oh uh yeah sorry umm Beautiful Becky.” Bethany responded. “Well ain’t that cute. Well looks like your our last audition for the night so how about you let our Blaire Witch here rig you up some music so we can see what you’ve got. Got any music in mind?” Jayne asked. Bethany responded positively and pretty soon some music from the Moulin Rouge soundtrack was playing and she was up on the stage. Bethany went through the paces feeling confident that she was striking that balance between strong and sexy. She also figured that with her tight toned little bod she’d have driven any men watching the exhibit wild. Then as the song began drawing to a close Bethany was relieved to hear the ladies clapping. “Thank goodness those heifers do know sexy when they see it.” Bethany thought with an inward chuckle. Then she heard it aside from clapping they were laughing big booming belly laughs all of them! Suddenly a flood of emotions washing over her she was equal parts embarrassed and confused what had she done wrong? She was also immediately angry and defensive what the hell do those fatties know about anything! Their just jealous of my figure she inwardly raged. As the music ended Bethany meekly replied to the laughter with “I’m sorry did I miss a joke?” “Yeah your stage show.” Sugar responded producing a new round of laughter. “Sorry honey ain’t nothing sexy about rid bones.” Tess chimed in. “The itty bitty titty committee meeting is around the block Blare butted in. “Ladies ladies that’s enough!” Jayne declared upon suppressing her own chuckles. “Ugh yes ma’am” The three said one after another. “I’m sorry ummm Becky it seems something’s brought out the devil in these ladies today. You three run along and I’m going to talk to Becky about when to come back for a second audition.”Jayne said. “Suit yourself… See you later skinny.” Tess said as she sashayed toward the exit working her curvaceous bod like she was the one on stage. “Whatever… better luck next time pipsqueak.” Sugar declared following Tess. “Audios chicka la flaco.” Blair added. By the time Bethany had made it off the stage and over toward Jayne they had all departed. “Don’t let those bitches get to you. You did …alright.” Jayne said trying to sound polite. “So what made it just alright?” Bethany asked. “Mainly it was your lack of confidence.” Jayne responded. “Lack of confidence!? I’m plenty confident I’m a well paid runway model for Christ sake.” Bethany replied hardly canceling her annoyance at the absurd remark. “Exactly you’re good a faking confidence but you don’t really have that much of it do you?” Jayne replied matter a factly. “What that’s ridiculous?” Bethany replied flabbergasted. “It’s ok hun you don’t have to fake it with me. I saw it in your eyes the whole time you were on stage. It was subtle and professional but you kept looking our way for approval and direction like you do with the photographers, the manager’s , and directors.” Jayne replied sweetly. “What really I did?” Bethany asked. “Yeah poor thing you’re so use to that you didn’t give it a second thought did you? But we could tell you were painfully uncomfortable out there having to go with your own instincts.” Jayne said. “What …I mean maybe just a bit..” Bethany stammered. “Come with me I’m grabbing a drink then we’ll talk.” Jayne replied sweetly. Jayne then positioned herself behind the bar and made herself a jack and coke before saying to Bethany “Want a beer or one of these for yourself?” “Umm I don’t really drink stuff like that.” Bethany replied. “Well I’m not fixing you some skinny girl daiquiri or anything like that. Here have a beer live a little.” Jayne replied. Bethany instinctively turned the bottle over to study it’s calories. Jayne then snapped “Save that shit for your day job! Boom Boom Bombshells don’t count calories. That’s your other problem you’re not confident in your body.” “Of course I am I make a living off this body.” Bethany replied. “You may think that but the way I see it stuffing your top and counting calories aren’t signs of confidence are they?” Jayne responded. “Well I guess not but..” Bethany began before Jayne cut her off. “No buts if you’re not confident in your body how are you going to get a good reaction from a roomful of horny guys and gals? The other thing is this look this outfit this isn’t you why did you pick it?” Jayne asked. “Well I saw from the flyer that this was the look your old chick had so I figured you wanted a replacement for it.” Bethany tried to explain. “It doesn’t work like that. Becky was a sexy school girl type very intelligent and oh so naughty that was her she picked it for herself we’re not just trying to fill her shoes with a copycat. The question you should have asked yourself is who is the sexy side of Bethany straight laced runway model by day?” Jayne explained. “I umm I don’t know…” Bethany replied. “Well when you’ve figured it out then you should come back.” Jayne said. “Alright umm thanks for the drink.” Bethany said as she started to get up. “Wait one more thing. The other ladies were being bitchy but they weren’t wrong curves are kinda a prerequisite for the gig.” Jayne announced. “Yeah I know I’m kinda lacking in that department but I really want this.” Bethany replied. “Tell you what I’ve got an idea.” Jayne responded before wondering off to a back room. When she came back she had a jet black corset in hand. “You can have this wear it next time and it’ll do something about your lack of curves.” Jayne announced. Bethany studied it for a moment and instantly wanted it picturing how sexy she’d look with it contorting her slim frame into a sexy little hourglass. Plus she could tell by the design this was no cheap gift. “Really? Thank you!” Bethany responded eagerly. “One catch though.” Jayne responded with a playful glint in her eye. “The other gals were right honey you are way too damn skinny. If you take it you’ve got to promise me you’re going to try eating for a change. Live a little eat be merry. Gain five pounds hell gain ten your tiny ass would still be called considered skinny if you gained 30. Just try it if you don’t like it you can always lose it. But I suspect you’ve got the bone structure to be a curvy gal yourself. So just try it the worst that could happen is that you love how it makes you look.” Jayne said with a playful laugh. Bethany briefly mulled it over before saying “Ten alright … I guess I can agree to that.” “Excellent! You got a change of cloth’s in the car because it starts tonight. I don’t know about you but I’m famished and making you eat like a Bombshell sounds very fun sug.” Jayne said with a wicked laugh. The next thing Bethany knew she was laying in her bed mildly intoxicated and more stuffed then she’d ever been in her life. She could vaguely remember Jayne dragging her to multiple restaurants getting a little order here, another little order there saying she was going to remind her of all the foods she’d missed out on since taking up modeling. And every time she’d protested saying she couldn’t possibly eat anymore she would merely smile liquor her up some more and then drag her somewhere else. Along the way Jayne had flirted with and made friends with every waiter, waitress, and busboy they’d encountered. Despite her size they’d all seemed instantly taken in by her looks and Bethany was half sure they’d never been made to pay anywhere they’d gone. All she knew for sure was that she was tired, stuffed, and happy to have that expensive corset in her possession. Ch 3 Bethany awoke late the next day feeling slightly hungover and overstuffed. She reached down to rub her stomach and was surprised to feel it enveloped by the tight constricting material of the corset. “Huh I don’t remember putting that on?” Bethany thought to herself confused. She brushed it aside though she was moderately intoxicated it was totally possible that she’d decided to see how she looked in it and then passed out soon after. Being unable to remember how exactly she had looked in it she decided to head over to the mirror and check herself out. “Mmmm not bad at all.” Bethany thought admiring herself in the mirror. She looked a little worse for wear. The night had obviously been a long one the skin under her eyes was a bit dark and her color was not quite right either because she was due for a trip to the tanning bed or just due to dehydration. Aside from that though she thought she looked quite sexy. She’d have thought the corset may give her already slim waist a cartoonish proportion but it looked largely the same. It had however served her small breast up into a more generous portion. They wouldn’t be called big by any means but in this thing she at least had a handful which was a look she suddenly thought suited her quite well. By compressing her waist in the corset also made her narrow hips seem to flair out a touch which she also found quite hot. All in all while she felt she looked a touch ragged she rather loved the image staring back at her. Feeling sexy and maybe even a little empowered she cranked up some music and began practicing feeling significantly more confident in the routine she was mentally tweaking. After the song played on a loop for she didn’t know how long she decided she’d best get ready for the day. She then slipped off the corset and then headed toward the shower. Just a few moments after getting in though it hit her an intense wave of hunger. “The hell I felt stuffed silly just a little while ago there’s no way I can be hungry now?” Bethany said to herself. Even though that sounded totally rational her stomach seemed to staunchly disagree and began to intensify its rumblings.  This was not like her at all typically she pretty much skipped breakfast all together just fixing a cup of coffee or grabbing an espresso or cappuccino from the Starbucks near her apartment. She tried to ignore the rumbling and finish getting ready. Realizing she’d totally forgotten her workout she’d pulled her hair back into a simple ponytail after exiting the shower and doing her makeup and hygienics. She then popped in a yoga DVD and began trying to go through her routine. It was hard as hell though her stomach would just not shut up. It didn’t take long for her to figure out that she wasn’t going to make it through her exercise routine feeling like this. As such she began fast forwarding through large chunks of the video barely even hitting the highlights. Next she popped in her workout DVD expecting to have to speed through it as well. But instead the hunger seemed to give her a little extra motivation to hurry it along. She speed through her weights, sit ups, pushups in record time. Then she dashed to her fridge and cabinets to see what she had in the way of breakfast food. Unsurprisingly she had next to nothing. Suddenly it dawned on her that there was that dinner across from the Starbucks she could go check it out. Her stomach seemed to agree with that notion as it largely piped down as she jogged out the door. Upon stepping inside and looking at the menu she found herself at an impasse it all looked so good that she couldn’t decide. For perhaps the first time in her adult life she ordered a large platter. Pancakes drenched in syrup, eggs, hash browns, and bacon for a brief while all thoughts of diets and calorie counting went out the window. She ate with a gusto that was totally alien to her. It was all just so good though especially the bacon! She adopted a semi vegetarian diet years back in order to make keeping her weight down easier and she now felt like an idiot for having ever done so. As she struggled to sort through the joys of the wonderful tastes she’d nearly forgotten and a vague concern for her waistline rolling around in the back of her mind she’d suddenly realized her platter was empty. She’d eaten it all! Every last bite she almost couldn’t believe her eyes. How could she have done that? Hell after her food filled evening with Jayne how did she possibly have the room left in her to do so? The confusion faded though as she let the forgotten warm satisfaction of being full wash over her though. “If I keep this up I’ll put on that 10 pounds Jayne dared me to in no time.” Bethany thought with a shockingly matter of fact attitude. After paying she began to walk back to her apartment planning an extra workout or a jog to make up for her overindulgence when she caught something out of the corner of her eye in one of the star windows. And before she knew it she’d stepped inside to purchase one of the large boxes of chocolate she’d seen in the window. It had been quite some time since she’d treated herself to chocolate and if she was going to let herself put on a few pounds this seemed like a very enjoyable way to go about it. Once she’d gotten back to her apartment she’d planned to relax for a moment pick at a few of the chocolate’s then go for a jog. Instead she’d turned on Netflix and zooned out for several hours and absentmindedly worked her way through a good chunk of the box. What finally broke her from the pseudo trance she’d entered was her cell buzzing from a text. She picked it up and saw it was from Jayne and read “Picking you up for night two of the Bombshell diet see you shortly.” “I can’t I’ve got a gig tomorrow.” Bethany responded not at all remembering that Jayne and her had exchanged numbers. “Nonsense sug I won’t keep you out to late.” Jayne responded. Bethany didn’t want to stay out to late with her gig being tomorrow and she figured she really shouldn’t let herself be stuffed silly like Jayne had done her the night before. But what was it Jayne had said to her “loosen up, live a little” maybe she was right. “Ok just give me a few to get ready.” Bethany replied. “Sure, and here’s an idea put the corset on I want to see you in it.” Jayne texted back. Bethany feeling playful rather liked the idea and had it on when Jayne arrived at her door. Upon seeing her Jayne filled her with compliments as to how she looked in it and Bethany did the same regarding Jayne’s choice of attire. Like last night Jayne was dressed in a black dress though this one was of a different style and showed off even more of here ample figure. In addition to her massive bust this number showed off her full upper arms, and a slit showed off one of her thick full thighs. Even Bethany had to admit Jayne’s enhanced size gave her one hell of a figure! After that though things got blurry although Bethany was rather confident that food played a heavy role in the evening that followed. Ch 4 The next morning Bethany stretched out in her bed noting that she once again had that same warm comfy feeling of being overfed and mildly intoxicated. Her fingers then worked their way down to her stomach and she smiled upon realizing she had once again fallen asleep in the corset. “How the hell does this keep happening? She thought with a smile. After taking it off and stretching she jumped in the shower and then right on cue the rumbling in her stomach she felt yesterday morning resumed. “God I’m getting way to use to this Bombshell diet.” She thought with a chuckle. About that time while lathering her bod she noticed something odd two purplish bruises on her ankles? That was odd what the hell had she done last night? Today though she saw little point in soldering through the hunger to do her workout she’d just do it after breakfast. Without giving the massive amount of calories she was about to put away a second thought she marched down to the dinner from yesterday and ordered the same massive platter. After cleaning her plate she couldn’t help but think “Mmm I could get use to eating like this.” After eating she crashed in front of the tv again for awhile to watch Netflix but today after only a bit over an hour she forced herself off the couch and popped in her workout dvds. Even without the hunger getting to her she found herself skipping through large chunks of the yoga it just felt so boring all of the sudden. The calisthenics and weights which she usually didn’t care much for seemed rather easy today though and she even found herself wondering why hadn’t she gotten any heavier weights yet since these were so easy? Then while she was doing some curls she heard her phone buzzing from a text. Upon picking it up she saw that it was from her manager and pseudo boyfriend Jack and it read “looking forward to seeing you today babe guess you were busy barely heard from you yesterday.” Then suddenly it dawned on her the gig today! “Oh shit! Shit! I totally forgot.” Bethany said out loud in a near panic before looking at the clock and realizing while she wouldn’t be at all early she was probably alright. She then rushed to fix her hair and makeup before taking off for the runway gig. About an hour later Jack greeted her at the back entrance with a kiss “Cutting it a little close aren’t you babe?” He asked after their lips broke contact. “I know, I know I’m so sorry am I late?” Bethany asked in a mild panic. “No… no your good just wish you’d have gotten here sooner just get to the dressing room.” He said trying to stay sweet. He wasn’t mad but he was a bit annoyed he liked to run a tighter ship then this. The gig wasn’t anything major a new designer was showing off some outfits to investors and a few of the chicks he managed had been tapped for the private showing. Once they got to the dressing room and Bethany began changing into her outfit Jack noticed she looked a little different. It wasn’t anything to dramatic but it was like he hadn’t seen her in several weeks rather than a few days because some subtle differences were there. Her tan had rather noticeably faded which was part of her thing and had she done something with her hair? Bethany had naturally light almost platinum blonde hair and today it looked a couple shades duller and darker. Then he got a good look at her figure as she undressed. He wasn’t about to say anything now but it rather looked like Bethany had put on some weight. Ten or fifteen pounds maybe? Wasn’t too drastic but Bethany definitely looked less bony and slender. In fact it was even a good look on her he thought especially the new fullness in her chest. From the looks of things that B cup bra which was new to him appeared a touch tight. If she would still fit into the outfit he had for her was something of a concern though. Even more concerning was how the hell had she put on a minimum of ten pounds in what two or three days since he’d last saw her? That was not at all normal… Then he saw something else on the back of her ankle as she changed shoes was that …a tattoo? “How the hell could you not talk to me first before you got a tattoo.” Jack said he’s annoyance starting to show. “A tattoo..? What the hell are you talking about?” Bethany asked sounding genuinely confused. “There on the back of your ankle what is that?” Jack asked. Bethany then took a look for herself and was shocked to see a tattoo of a slightly cartoonish bat. Remembering the bruise on her other ankle she checked it out as well and saw that she had identical tattoos on both. “Holy shit I swear to god I don’t remember getting those!?” Bethany said in a genuine panic. “Seriously you don’t remember?” Jack said sounding somewhat dismissive but Bethany’s face remained genuine. “Alright alright so you’ve been partying that hard this week that’s why I’ve not heard from you. You were so out of it doing I don’t even want to know what that you got two tattoos and don’t even remember it?” Jack declared. “I..I mean I’ve gone out the past few nights but it wasn’t like that all I did was drink.” Bethany responded. “You sure about that? I mean you sure you didn’t just start off drinking and it escalated from there?” Jake said now coming off rather accusatory. “I …..I …don’t know?” Bethany said exasperated. “Whatever fuck it it’s not that big a deal we can cover it up. I don’t know who you’ve been partying with but I’d stop it though before either they let you really screw up or put you in a really shitty situation.” Jack said taking a slightly authoritative tone. The two didn’t have time to argue or discusses this further though. In short order they got her dressed and while Bethany didn’t complain he could tell the outfit was too tight. He made a mental note to bump her up a dress size before her next gig. She was thin going up a size shouldn’t hurt her marketability any or at least he hoped. Then he sent her out there in the skirt button up combo. Things proceeded fine at first Bethany looked poised, professional, and maybe even lovelier then ever up there and the potential investors seemed fairly interested in the line. Then it happened without warning Bethany slipped. Maybe it was dumb luck or maybe something had been left on the runway either way it happened. It wasn’t a complete disaster Bethany regained her balance before falling flat on her face or anything too embarrassing but the sudden motion lead to something perhaps even more so. As she raised straightening her back the tight shirt had decided it had all that it could stand and the top two buttons of the shirt gave way giving the investors a pretty good view of Bethany’s fuller chest. Bethany thought she would literally die of embarrassment after seeing the investors break out into laughter. As soon as she made finished on the runway she bolted to her car. “You going after her?” The makeup lady asked Jack after Bethany had bolted. “No better to just give her some space.” Jack said before storming to the designer to give him a piece of his mind. Better he act like it was their fault then admit his model had outgrown the outfit. After dealing with the situation he couldn’t stop replaying the scenario in his head. In spite of how embarrassing it had been he couldn’t help but find her popping the buttons like that more than a little hot. Once everything was settled he rather looked forward to rewatching the recording of the event. As for Bethany aside from stopping at the store for some alcohol she struggled to choke back both tears and embarrassment. After a getting a few drinks into her system while at home she calmed down and for whatever reason the new corset caught her eye. Better she practice her routine then wallow in self pity she figured and slipped it on. Not long after Jayne shot her a text asking about her day and Bethany replied that it was horrible. “Sorry sug should I come over I know a big old piece of cherry cobbler always picks me up after a shitty day and I just got done making some should I bring you some over?” Hours later upon laying in bed Bethany couldn’t for the life of her remember what she’d responded but the empty plates she found in the kitchen the next day seemed to indicate that she had stopped by. Anonymous 04/17/17 (Mon) 19:01:59 No.1635 Ch 5 That Bethany woke up yet again wearing the corset hardly seemed worth taking notice of at this point. And after taking it off she proceeded to the shower and then the mirror to get ready. Had something not be amiss with her she’d have been shocked by the differences in the Bethany that stared back at her in the mirror. Her tan had now totally disappeared though she wouldn’t yet be considered pale. Her hair to was noticeably different. The last of her light platinum color had vanished being totally replaced by the dirty blonde tone of that wig she had worn to the audition. Her figure had also undergone some further changes. Her hips had spread out in line with her bust to give her an hourglass shape and some weight had also settled into her hindquarters giving her a nice pinchable bubble butt. Bethany seemed oblivious to the changes though as her hunger had kicked in and she simply wanted to get to that amazing dinner around the block. Had she not been so out of it she doubtlessly would have noticed that upon squeezing her new hips and buns into a pair of skinny jeans produced some minor rips and tears as the denim attempted to accommodate her new curves. There was also zero chance that any of her bras would accommodate her new assets but fortunately she absentmindedly slipped on a new lacey black number that presumably Jayne had left for her. Not feeling like walking/jogging to the dinner today she opted to take her car. Upon stepping inside she felt like quite a few gazes drifted her way and she rather liked the feeling. She also noticed that the waiter seemed to have a bit more pep in his step and seemed to be trying his best to get her food to her and make sure she was well attended. She could get use to service like this she thought with a smile. After polishing off her plate she returned to her car and suddenly found the pop station she had previously had blaring sounded cringe worthy. She then flipped through the stations in rapid motion each sounding worse than the last before giving some college station a chance The disc jockey was introducing a band/guy she’d never heard of called Danzig.. To her surprise she found the guys voice rather sexy and she cranked the radio back up. After enjoying the song she began fiddling with her phone to figure out who this was. To her surprise this solo artist wasn’t anyone new but rather an aging punk rocker. After finding some pics from his hay day though she found herself getting a little hot and bothered checking out his bodybuilder like build and vampire like looks. Apparently she got to distracted by the images though and passed through a stop sign leading to a police officer to cut on his lights and race behind her. She came to a stop on the shoulder of the road and then the strangest thing happened. For the second day in a row she felt a button snap loose from her blouse. Little did she realize her breasts had just inflated up to a D-cup. Before she could process what had happened though the police officer had appeared at her window.   The policeman then remarked. “Know why I pulled you over ma’am?” “Umm the stop sign.” Bethany stammered. “That’s right got anything to say for yourself?” He remarked. Bethany’s nerves then leveled off as she realized his gaze had not left her cleavage for even a moment. She then as sweetly as she could exclaimed “I’m so sorry officer! I just got turned around and was trying to miss with the gps on my phone.” “Well I reackon that could happen to anyone ma’am just don’t let it happen again anytime soon.” He said giving her tits another long hard look before returning to his police car. Bethany had no idea where this new cleavage of hers had come from but she decided she could get rather use to it. Once she arrived home she chilled for a bit then popped in her workout DVDs again largely bypassing the yoga stuff. When she got to the weights and calisthenics though she was surprised to see that her puny little starter weights had been replaced by larger ones. “When the hell had she found time to buy those?” She wondered for a brief moment before getting into a more challenging but far more enjoyable workout. About the time she finished she heard a knock on the door and went to answer it and discovered it was Jack. Looking at him she suddenly found herself getting more than a little excited when was the last time they’d enjoyed some private time together? For Jack’s part he was rather surprised by who greeted him at the door briefly wondering if it was even Bethany? Her hair was way darker and her breasts even bigger than the day before. The hell had she gotten some work done just since yesterday that was crazy. Clothed in her yoga pants and tank top he could also see the other changes her body had undergone. She’d clearly packed on some weight. She’d still be considered skinny and all but her ribs and other prominent bones were no longer at all visible. Her frame too had even seemed to subtly change her shoulders looking broader and her arms more muscular. Plainly visible due to the yoga pants though he could see that her hips had grown broader, her ass curvier, and her thigh gap had nearly ceased to exist. “Umm just wanted to make sure you weren’t still upset about yesterday?” He said more than a little surprised at this fuller figured version of Bethany standing before him. “What about yesterday?” She asked sounding genuinely confused. “You know the wardrobe malfunction at gig?” He responded. “Oh that I’m over it don’t give it a second thought.” She said with a smile before motioning for him to follow him into her bedroom. He did as instructed confused by her straightforwardness. Upon entering the bedroom she then nudged him onto the bed before saying “I’m just happy to see you. Feels like it’s been forever big boy.” Before she took off the tank top revealing how large her breasts had somehow become. Much to Jack’s surprise the two had some of the best sex of his life. Bethany had always been very easy on the eyes but not especially good in bed. Today was a totally different experience however. Bethany was remarkably dominating compared to her usual self and seemed to know exactly what she wanted, when, and how. And Jack found himself rather enjoying the feedback and direction as opposed to her usually passive nature. He also found that he could not get enough of those killer breasts she’d gotten. He knew there was no way in hell they’d grown so much so fast but they didn’t feel at all fake either. Jack had always had a thing for oversized boobs but given that his relationships tended to stem for work these days he’d had precious few opportunities to enjoy them in recent years. As such getting to the bottom of that mystery was the last thing on his mind though as she put him through his paces. Once they’d finished Jack was exhausted in the best sense of the word and Bethany was apparently hungry. “I don’t know about you but I worked up a hell of an appetite after that.” Bethany giggled. “Yeah I’d be up for a soup and a salad or something like that.” Jack replied in reference to Bethany’s typical diet. “No silly a real meal. I said I’m starving remember.” Bethany said with a laugh. She then began musing about their dining options and referencing some of the nicer places around and debating between some very large meals. This was downright bizarre Bethany had never cared about food like this. He was no slave driver about making his clients stay in shape and Bethany had always vetoed any suggestion of consuming anything that would put her over her calorie count with the extremely rare exception of something sweet. From the way she was talking now though she planned on putting away far more than he ever did. As she rambled on about food she started to get dressed and Jack inspected her new figure as she struggled to get it into her clothes. In addition to her new boobs she was no size 2 anymore that was for sure. More like a six or even an eight? Jack then began to think about her marketability at this size. He had a few clients who worked with models just under plus size so this wasn’t too far outside of his ball park but there was far less demand and cash involved in work like that. Then he checked out her enhanced chest and curvier backside. With those proportions she’d be far more at home doing swim suits and the various car and men’s magazines/ sites that included curvy ladies near their products. Jack had thought he’d legitimized his business away from stuff like that. As such as much as it would make him sound like a dick he was going to have to talk to her about dieting if she wanted to maintain her career. He then cut her off and said “You sure you can afford to be eating like that?” “What’s that supposed to mean I’m not skinny enough for you asshole?” Bethany responded with an edge to her voice Jack was not at all used to. He didn’t think she was really that angry but he was not use to her talking to him like that. “What no I’m not talking about me I’m talking about your career.” Jack responded. Although in the back of mind he had thought that Bethany could stand to tighten up if not drop a few. “Well if I’m not overly concerned about my career right now neither should you.” Bethany responded. “Hey I’m not trying to be an ass if you want to try a new look or whatever do you. But my finances are also tied up in your career so you could have given me a heads up before deciding on whatever the hell it is your doing with yourself.” Jack snapped back harsher then he’d intended. “Please Jack skinny blondes are a damn dime a dozen me putting on a few pounds won’t affect your bottom line that much.” Bethany responded. “Looks like more than a few to me.” Jack muttered. “I’m sorry I didn’t know I needed your permission to damn live a little and actually eat for a change." Bethany snapped. “Look I don’t mean to be a dick but your making a mistake keep this up and you’ll get to see just how few opportunities there are for plus size models.” Jack responded. Bethany was briefly taken aback by the plus size remark sure she’d put on a few but she wasn’t inching into plus size territory was she? The second thought that entered her head though was so what if she was! “Yeah well it’s my mistake to make asshole. Maybe I’m tired of being a twiggy little Barbie doll ever think of that? But if you don’t have any interest in working with a real woman your loss. Now I’m going to get something to eat with or without your permission if you’d like to come fine otherwise I’m certain I can find someone else who’d appreciate the company of a woman that’s not a walking bag of bones.” Bethany declared before turning her head to him and finishing getting ready. “Whatever talk to you later maybe you’ll have come to your senses by then.” Jack said exasperated before heading out the door. As he made his way out the door Bethany thought over how that exchange had gone and she found herself thinking it had gone quite well. She briefly wondered where that line about "real women" had come from and the answer undoubtedly had been Jayne. After getting ready Bethany’s phone began to buzz from a text “Wonder if assholes come to his senses?” She wondered aloud. Instead it was a text Jayne “Whatcha doing sug? It read. “Thinking about grabbing something to eat, you?” Bethany responded. “Seems are stomach have become synchronized lol I was just about to ask if you wanted to grab a bite. And then there’s a concert at the bar tonight probably not your thing but thought I’d see if you’re interested?” Jayne responded. “Hell yes to dinner!” Bethany responded. Then followed up “Why wouldn’t I be into the concert?” “Their kinda a punk rock/ rockabilly type band. Didn’t strike me as your thing.” Jayne replied. Bethany didn’t really know what rockabilly meant? But she responded “I like punk” “Really lol like who?” Jayne quickly responded. “Misfits” Bethany texted back. “A bit generic but good answer sug. Alright if you’re interested happy to have you.” Jayne replied. “Cool so where should I meet you?” Bethany asked. “Don’t worry about it I’ll pick you up?” Jayne responded “You know my address?” Bethany asked to which Jayne merely sent back a winky face. In short order Jayne had appeared at her door greeting her with a light hug. “Gosh sug someone’s looking lovely.” Jayne cooed in her slight southern twang. “Thanks I think I’ve put on those ten pounds we talked about.” Bethany joked nervously. Jayne could clearly see it was more than ten but so no reason to correct her. “I see that so what’s the verdict you like?” Jayne inquired. “Well I don’t think I’d be going out to dinner with you if I were trying to lose it.” Bethany responded with a laugh. “Good answer honey.” Jayne responded with a laugh before adding “You’re just a couple more pounds away from a sexy Bombshell body.” “You want me to gain more?” Bethany exclaimed. “No just a suggestion sug I mean you’re looking fuller up top but some broad sexy hips would complement those sexy tatas wouldn’t they?” Jayne continued. “Well I suppose… I wouldn’t want to get to big though.” Bethany responded mulling over the prospect. “Your call of course just saying if you were to put on a couple more I could see you rocking a sexy hourglass shape.”Jayne replied. “Think so?” Bethany responded trying to picture herself with some modest hourglass curves. “Trust me honey it’s a gift. I can tell when a gals not eating enough, with your work ethic, frame, and shape you were never meant to be a petite little size two.” Jayne said with commanding confidence. "Well in that case to hell with my manager I'm even having dessert!" Bethany declared with a laugh. "He giving you shit about your weight?" Jayne asked. "A bit he said if I didn't watch it I'd be a plus size model and there's no money in that." Bethany responded. "Asshole sounds like he just doesn't know what to do with a real woman." Jayne laughed. "I know right?" Bethany replied. "Shows how little he knows as well. Curves are coming back even Sports Illustrated can't deny it." Jayne laughed. "Oh yeah I saw that! She was gorgeous!" Bethany gushed hardly remembering the rude remarks she'd made when she'd first saw that cover. "Eh I think she could stand some good southern cooking but yes certainly gorgeous compared to those pathetic little things they usually employ…present company excluded of course." Jayne added with a laugh. "No offense taken I sure don't feel little anymore." Bethany responded then in short order they were out to eat at a nice bar and grill type restaurant. Upon being seated Jayne snatched the menu away from Bethany's hand declaring "I'm buying so I think it's only fair I order. Besides got to make sure you maintain those Bombshell curves your working on." Jayne laughed. For the next hour Jayne then stuffed her absolutely silly bread sticks, soup salad, and then big juicy steaks with a mountain of fries. How Bethany kept pace with this lady roughly twice her size she didn't know but keep pace she did. All the while they knocked back beers and chatted with Jayne asking her about the corset and how practicing her new routine was going and so on. Additionally Jayne was being a total flirt with their cutie pie waiter who treated them as if they were his only table. Never being far from sight and joining in on their conversations whenever possible. "How do you do that?" Bethany caught herself asking after he darted off to service anther table. "Do what sug?" Jayne replied. "That you've got that hunk eating out of your damn palm. And I swear it's been that way everywhere we go." Bethany exclaimed. "Oh that its easy it's called confidence, confidence is a sexy trait in a woman." Jayne replied. "Sure but come on it's got to be more to it than that?" Bethany insisted. "Ok you caught me it's magic." Jayne said dead seriously. "Excuse me?" Bethany exclaimed. "The twins sug their absolutely magic when you know how to use them." Jayne said with a laugh. "Haha now that I believe." Bethany exclaimed taking a look at just how massive the juggs Jayne had at her disposal were. "I mean they are the universal persuader after all. I mean sure not quite everyone was breast fed as a child but it's a primal instinct deep down we're all drawn to them for nourishment or pleasure and the bigger the better am I right? I mean come on don't tell me you've never used yours to get what you want?" Jayne asked. "Well the other day I think this cop let me out of a ticket just because I didn't cause a fuss over me checking them out." Bethany giggled. "That a girl! Just think what you could do if they were bigger." Jayne responded. Bethany then found herself imagining herself with melons the size of Jayne's. It was an absolutely ridiculous image supporting juggs like those on her slim frame was painful to just think about. Then Bethany's thought about Jayne's plump voluptuous figure. The bigger the pot the bigger the plant right? Suddenly that sturdy zaftig figure made a lot of evolutionary sense… Then Jayne broke Bethany's train of thought by whispering "Check out that fox to your right." Bethany then turned her head and spied a rather gorgeous lady on the lower end of plus size with a very well endowed chest. "She's cute." Bethany responded. "Cute? Honey that's a fine example of the female form when properly fed and nourished. You know if you were to gain some more weight I figure that's about what you'd look like." Jayne replied. Bethany then took another look at the lady. She was smaller than Jayne but significantly larger then herself. Still though Jayne was right she was a natural beauty that lovely round face of hers could easily compete with those of most of her model friends. And that body Jayne was right with curves like that what harm was there in having a little belly. "Maybe I could get into that…" Bethany responded before realizing just what had escaped her lips. Jayne then smiled an ominous smile before saying "Now leave the pretty lady alone I've got dessert your skinny butt is supposed to help me finish." She said playfully as Bethany suddenly realized she was still admiring the lady. After dessert they then headed to the bar which was considerably more packed then Bethany had ever seen it. Upon arriving Jayne made a beeline for the bar "Best get our drink on before they start because I'm in the mood for dancing." Jayne joked. Upon sitting down Bethany's eye caught a flyer for the band who seemed to be called the Horrorpops. The flyer had sort of a mockup of Bettie Page on it among other things. "Oh I absolutely love Bettie Page." Bethany remarked. "Yes she was a real beauty you know for a skinny girl." Jayne said with a chuckle. "God you've really got it out for us skinny girls." Bethany joked. "Eh let's just say I have it on good authority that the female body is rarely meant to be so tiny. But yeah she was amazing in her day. You know you ever been told you look a little like her?" Jayne replied. "No way you think?" Bethany gushed. "Yeah sug there's totally a resemblance bet if you ever did your hair that way you'd look a lot like her." Bethany began to picture herself with that hairstyle but the train of thought was interrupted by Tess of the Boom Boom Boombshells looking just as much like an overfed Joan Holloway as Bethany remembered though her outfit tonight was toned down but similarly retro. "So what's your new skinny friend doing here? Tess declared. "Why she's here for the music of course. And she may be skinny now but when she gains some more weight she's trying out again aren't you honey?" Jayne asked. "Yeah I can't wait I've been practicing a lot." Bethany replied it hardly registering that Jayne had moved away from the theoretical and instead had said when she gains more weight. No sooner had she responded that she couldn't wait though Jayne and Tess watched approving as her face did some rounding out developing some chubby cheeks that seemed unsuited for her average sized figure. After chatting a little while the music began and Bethany was absolutely transfixed she'd never heard anything like this before yet at the same time it sounded like exactly her favorite kind of music the thumping of the upright bass, the fast punk beat, everything just spoke to her on an almost primal level. And little did she realize the lyrics, attitude, and spirit of the music had begun to shape the new and improved Bethany. Once she rushed to the front of the stage the rest of the night became a total blur. All she remembered for sure was the dancing and banging her head in a way she had never done before. All the while getting more than a little bit of a kick out of how the gentlemen and even a few of the in the vicinity had to work hard to keep from staring at the new bounce in her chest. If there was ever a shadow of a doubt before it was decided now she rather loved the attention of being bustier. Anonymous 04/17/17 (Mon) 19:02:31 No.1636 Ch 6 Bethany woke up groggy and more than a little hung over which seemed to be her routine as of late. As she slowly came to her senses she realized wasn’t in her bed alone she was snuggled up next to someone. A few seconds later when someone’s hair brushed her shoulder she realized it was actually two someone’s. After readjusting herself a bit she realized she was sand witched between both Jayne and Tess’s bulky figures. She then thought to herself “what the hell did we do last night?” Before she passed back out. When she came to again she was a bit embarrassed to discover she was not just cuddled up Jayne she even had a hand resting on the swell of her extremely well nourished belly! “Well someone’s a grabby little thing.” Jayne said embarrassing her as they all began to come to. “I know how you feel a guy would have paid a pretty penny to be in between the both of us like she was last night.” Tess laughed. “Uhhh sorry..” Bethany replied her face painfully red. “It’s fine sug I’m sure I also got a little touchy the first time I shared a bed with a real woman.” Jayne said in her big booming laugh. “So umm not sound like a shitty host but how did you ladies end up here?” Bethany asked. “Well while someone was dancing up a storm last night they ripped their jeans so we figured we’d take you out for a bit of shopping today. Plus with how late we got in and how wasted you were we figured we may as well spend the night here.” Jayne replied. “Sounds reasonable enough.” Bethany responded. “Hey one of you come get in the damn shower already I’m all finished and I’m ready for some breakfast!” Tess barked. “Mind if I go on ahead sug looks like your still not quite awake yet.” Jayne said to Bethany. “Oh yeah sure go on.” She answered. Bethany then lay there awhile partially asleep and trying to piece together the rest of the events of last night. It was a total blur but somehow she’d ended up back in the corset. Maybe she’d put it on to show them her new routine? That made as much sense as anything. Then another thought entered her mind. Why did they all end up in the same bed? She had a second bedroom and a couch. Sure Jayne and Tess were probably a bit large for the couch but they could have dumped her on it. They hadn’t done anything kinky last night had they? Surely that she would remember surely! She thought with a touch of alarm. Then after Jayne was finished she made her own way to the bathroom and was rather surprised by what she saw in the mirror. Bethany's skin tone had now totally faded from her usual tan to pale alabaster. The change in her skin tone didn't seem to register with her but the change in her hair did. "They must have convinced me to color my hair last night?" Bethany wondered taking a look at her new hair color. She'd never done anything different with it then her natural blonde but now it was jet black. It wasn't a bad look on her she determined but she didn't understand why she didn't remember coloring it. Truth be told it was actually a pretty attention grabbing look contrasting well with her now pale skin tone and making her light blue eyes pop amazingly. Bethany was only vaguely aware of this though. After briefly playing with her hair she then removed the corset. Upon removing it she couldn't help but notice how much wider her waistline was not to mention the development of a bit of soft roundness to her formerly flat stomach. "Wow I really have been eating well" She thought poking at the soft accumulation of chub. After showering and getting ready the first thing Bethany did upon seeing Jayne and Tess was ask so we colored my hair last night? The two just giggled in response for a moment before Jayne responded "Well it certainly didn't change colors on its own. Remember after we looked at that flyer you wouldn't shut up about how great you thought your hair would look darker and it just so happened that I love doing hair. So you approve? While you were drunk you certainly did." Jayne laughed. "Yeah I like it a lot! Just kind of surprised me a bit when I first looked in the mirror." Bethany explained. "Oh yeah bet that was really surprising then." Tess giggled. Not long after that they were out for breakfast at Bethany's new favorite dinner. As they dug in it suddenly occurred to Bethany to ask. "So neither of you have work to be at soon?" "No I co own the bar and I've got a couple other business interests to support me sug." Jayne responded. "Oh how about you Tess?" Bethany asked, "Well I worked at an advertising agency until you recently you know thus the stage persona. But now aside from a few little odds and ends I do more than fine doing just doing the Bombshells full time." Tess answered. "Really you do that well?" Tess exclaimed. She knew the Bombshells performed a little circuit outside of the bar Jayne apparently co owned but she was surprised one could make a living mostly just off that? "Oh yeah totally we'll explain if you make the cut." Tess responded. "Don't listen to her obviously she meant to say when you make the cut." Jayne replied reassuringly which made Bethany feel good. After that they mostly just enjoyed their extremely healthy portions of food and chatted about nothing in particularly until Jayne asked "Is your hair bothering you honey you keep brushing it back like it's bugging you?" Bethany suddenly realized she was right she'd brushed or tucked it back for the umpeenth time but it still kept ending up in her face. "Yeah I don't know just can't seem to keep it out of my face the past few days it's giving me such a headache." Bethany found herself replying. "Well I've cut more than my fair share of hair if you'd like a little trim before we go shopping?" Jayne asked. "That sounds great." Bethany responded enthusiastically normally she paid a small fortune to get her hair done but for whatever reason she totally trusted Jayne with it. After their large breakfast they returned to Bethany's apartment and Jayne and Tess asked her to close her eyes after they sat her down in the bathroom to do her hair. "Come on it'll be fun." Jayne insisted. "I've got the perfect style in mind for you and if you don't like it I'll pay whatever price you want to go to someone to fix it." Jayne added. "Alright sounds fair enough." Bethany conceded before shutting her eyes. Bethany then heard the sound of snipping for a bit and felt a seemingly significant portion of her hair fall to the floor. "Alright open them and let me know what you think?" Jayne announced. Bethany then opened her eyes "Oh my god she hadn't she thought for a second. " Bethany's eyes went wide for a second Jayne had trimmed her length a little but nothing to dramatic. What she'd done with the front though was extremely dramatic. She'd hacked away the front of her hair leaving it an inch or so above the eyebrows making for the classic Bettie Page bangs. For a second Bethany got flustered thinking about the repercussions of this. Jack really would be pissed when he saw that she'd changed her look so radically. About the time that thought entered her mind though another one did. "Who the hell is he to have any input on the way I look!" An internal voice screamed within her. After this realization she studied her reflection in earnest. She didn't yet comprehend just how round her face had become but she recognized this shift framed her face rather well. Her next thought was that Jayne was right she totally had an awesome Bettie Page look going! She’d never noticed it before but Jayne had been right with the new hair style she really did resemble her idol. “Let’s see Jack bitch now if he can’t market a model who looks like Bettie Page he’s the problem not me.” Bethany thought defiantly “Oh my god I love it!” Bethany declared. “Happy to hear it sug told you all you needed was the hairdo and you’d have a total Bettie Page 2.0 look going.” Jayne chuckled. “Yeah you totally called it. And how long have you been cutting hair? I feel like you had me close my eyes just a minute or two ago and your already done not to mention how perfect it looks.” Bethany exclaimed. “Trade secret hun maybe we’ll let you in on it once you’re a Bombshell but let’s just say Jayne has a gift for bringing out a ladies full potential.” Tess responded. “So ready for some shopping sug looks to me like it’s time to upgrade your attire? New look new you right?” Jayne asked. “Of course just let me run to my room real quick.” Bethany answered. Upon entering her bedroom something caught Bethany’s eye on the night stand. “That’s funny I could have sworn I had my credit card in my purse.” She thought picking it up Then she realized it was Jacks. Suddenly an unfamiliar desire entered her head. “Ladies it seems my dickhead manager left his credit card here. What do you say we have some fun a good chunk of its money he owes me I figure.” Bethany declared. “Bethany never pegged you for the bad girl type.” Tess said with a mischievous grin. “Eh people change right?” Bethany responded. The trio did indeed have a great deal of fun with the card. As a thank you for the corset and the hair cut Bethany treated Tess and Jayne to some purchases of their own. For the most part though they set about updating Bethany’s wardrobe. Bethany felt almost like they were playing Halloween dress up. The styles the two ladies selected for her contrasted greatly with her normal attire. At no point did they step foot in the familiar Rue 21s or H&M’s were she got her casual attire or the various trendy boutiques she frequented for upscale purchases. The clothing choices were also far different from anything she would normally purchase they pushed a heavy assortment of dark colors and blacks her way, as well as styles much more reveling then she was accustomed to, a number of the outfits they directed her toward had a very vintage vide to them as well but all of the sudden she thought that it really worked for her. At one point though right before approaching the cash register Bethany noted something odd. “Hey what’s the size 22 for you getting one for yourself to?” Bethany asked. “Oh no sug it’s the damndest thing. The inside labels are all right but the outside tags are way off.” Jayne answered. “Huh that’s odd.” Bethany responded without seeing the need to double check it herself little did she realize much of what she had just purchased was meant for a lady much larger then she currently was. Later the three were in large changing room trying on lingerie together. Suddenly it was all Bethany could do to stop from staring at Jayne and Tess. Their soft voluptuous builds their uber curves they were hard to keep her eyes off of. She suddenly felt a touch bad all her previous remarks about them being heifers. The two were overfed sure but all the excess pounds had been channeled in such a way as to produce two sexy as hell Amazonian type bods as while they were large there was a definite firmness and slight athleticism to their bulk preventing them from looking overly flabby. “I see you sneaking a peek over there Beth.” Tess giggled. “Sexy as hell number huh?” Tess wasn’t exaggerating in the slightest that was one sexy as hell outfit she’d selected. It was a lacey leopard print number that served up her massive breasts like melons and gradually became more translucent as the material drifted down to the trim. Aside from serving up her chest the gradually translucent material also showcased the slight hourglass curvature of her waist despite her soft tummy not to mention the broad womanly dimensions of her hips. “Extremely” Bethany replied feeling a bit short of breath. “I know right! Now since you’ve been checking me out this whole time here’s an idea. How about I get to watch you try this on?” Tess asked playfully. “What… oh no … there’s no way I could wear something like that.” Bethany replied certain that it would all but hang off her slender frame. “Oh come on have some fun. It’s not as big as it looks and it’ll give us some idea as to if we should go hunt one down in your size.” Tess responded. “Well uh alright.” Bethany responded. A few minutes later Bethany began to slip it on herself. For a split second it all but hung off of her as she had predicted and then too suddenly for Bethany to understand what was happening her figure seemed to make a bold attempt to grow into the outfit. Her breasts perked up to a DD in a futile attempt to fill Tess’s massive cups. Elsewhere her hips and shoulders broadened in an effort to fill out the oversized outfit. In contrast to the more pronounced hourglass shape she was assuming her stomach also rounded out a touch more. The slight chub she’d first noticed accumulating on her formerly flat belly asserted itself further into a slight beginner belly and her twiggy arms and long chicken legs gained a helping of new flesh. It wouldn’t be accurate to refer to Bethany as now chubby or plus size but skinny no longer seemed appropriate either. After her upgrade in size the outfit still didn’t fit her but it had gone from draping of her relatively slight figure to being loose on her busty and well fed build. The fact that she’d just gone up a size or two in a matter of seconds didn’t really register with Bethany. But she saw her current proportions for more or less what they were. “Oh my god I’m getting so chubby…” Bethany whimpered. “What was that sug?” Jayne asked sweetly. “I..I ..how could I let myself go like this I’ve gotten so chubby. Just look at this belly! Jack was right Christ I’ve eaten my way into plus size modeling.” Bethany whimpered overcome by a flood of emotions she wasn’t sure if she wanted to cry or scream at her new friends for egging her on down this path. “Now where the hell did this bellyaching come from honey you look sexy as hell.” Jayne said with authority. “Sexy? I look f… fa..fat.” Bethany replied on the verge of tears. “Oh cut that shit out. I’ll tell you how you look you look like a sexy woman instead of a little boy with boobies. Just look at that pretty face of yours, those big sexy breasts, those womanly hips, and this big ole booty.” Jayne said with a chuckle giving her bottom a playful slap. Bethany then half turned surprised by the new curvaceous dimensions of her behind which had been flat as a board not so long ago. “But look at all this weight I’ve gained.” Bethany responded. “Well what of? Only weak males who need a woman that’s tiny and malnourished to feel like a man need a skinny girl. Real men appreciate strength, curves, an appetite a lust for life not denial. Remember that hunk behind the cash register how about I prove a point.”Jayne declared before poking her head out of the dressing room. “Excuse me cutie pie. I don’t suppose you could come give a gal a real man’s perspective on an outfit now could ya?” Jayne asked in her southern twang. The cashier a tall fit hunky type responded positively and came her way. “Now cutie pie how’s about you dispel the notion our friend here has in her head that she’s filled out to much to look sexy.” The cashier then cast his gaze toward the smallest of the three ladies who despite being in the ill fitting outfit looked just as sexy the other two. “Now Bethany I saw him leave his barcode scanner at the front desk so that’s something else entirely protruding from his pants.” Jayne laughed before Jayne and Tess left the two to talk. After that hunk was so complementary and flirty with her Bethany’s confidence returned and feeling mischievous she even thanked him with both a kiss and by placing his hands on her now busty bosoms for a moments play. The guy of course expressed no displeasure with the arrangement. After he returned to the cash register she found herself feeling so good that she hardly noticed the new tightness in her outfit which she had now outgrown by a size or two. Her fuller legs and these were extremely constrained in her jeans as was her now noticeably plump backside. Her beginner belly also caused her shirt to ride up her midriff a bit reveling her new tummy fluff and deeper naval. Against the strain of her new chest the v cut of her shirt had also changed from putting a small amount of skin on display to a decent helping of cleavage. Her bra to had done from fitting perfectly to feeling rather tight not to mention little did she release the straps of her bra now dug into her fleshy shoulders and torso in a way they simply never had before. After departing from the store though the trio passed by Jack of all people who was scooping the mall for new talent. As he passed Bethany he literally did a double take due to how much her looks had changed. Bethany for her part flashed him a playful smile. “Bethany? The fuck did you do to your hair?” He exclaimed upon realizing it was her. “You like thought I’d try something new?” Bethany merely responded. “No I don’t like. The hell the hair, the tattoos, the weight, the boob job? Are you trying to make me fire you how the hell am I supposed to market you like this?” Jack remarked still questioning the boob thing. “Not my problem Jackie boy. It’s my job to turn heads it’s yours to market that and trust me I’m turning just as many heads now as I was as your scrawny little dumb Barbie doll.” Bethany laughed. “That’s it fuck it do whatever you want I’m not going to let my business take a hit trying to market whatever the hell you call this bullshit look.” Jack exclaimed on the verge of losing his cool. “Oh speaking of money Jackie boy you seems you miss placed your credit card would have been a shame if someone had run up a bunch of expenses with it. You really should be more careful.” Bethany said with a smile before dropping it at his feet.” By the time he picked it up she was strutting off and he got a fine view of how fat her ass had become. “So you’re the one who filled her head full of all this bull shit you’re going to fill bad now that her modeling career is over and she doesn’t have the brains for much else.” Jack barked at Jayne. “Oh I’m sure Bethany will get by and by the way Jackie boy my eyes are up here not down there.” She responded with a chuckle in reference to her attention grabbing chest. “Oh don’t flatter yourself I manage beautiful women for a living I’m not eying up some heifers fat tits.” Jack exclaimed. “Tell yourself that all you want Jackie boy but you certainly are eying them. But so you run a modeling agency that could be useful to us.” Jayne mussed stepping closer to Jack. “The hell you talking about?” Jack responded suddenly feeling a touch intimidated by this strange lady with the stature and look of an overfed Amazon. Jayne then stepped in closer still and said “You know there’s an awfully thin line between a boob man and fat admirer let’s see if we can get you across it?” Jayne then leaned in and gave him an extremely sexual kiss. After a the briefest moment of disgust and resistance he then found himself kissing back and with a raging hard on protruding from his tight jeans. As she broke contact to his shock she’d somehow changed in that brief instant. Instead of looking like an overfed chunky woman she instead looked like a voluptuous knockout with curves for days. Her round face suddenly seemed more lovely then the vast majority of his models. Her broad hips and giant ass meanwhile suddenly seemed immensely erotic not to mention her supersized chest. Her other wobbly bits bothered him not at all the swell of her tummy even interested him suddenly it seemed to say here was a woman who wasn’t afraid to live life rather than deny her appetites. She looked like someone had taken Ann Nicole Smith and given her both a gym membership and lifetime pass through the buffet line before making her over into a sort of southern fried Morticia Addams. “Who the hell said you could kiss me?” Jack stammered. “Those wondering eyes of yours sug now run a long Jackie boy I figure you’ve got a whole new side of yourself to learn about. And good luck working up the enthusiasm to keep booking those bean poles anymore Jacky boy! ” She said with a laugh. Suddenly that sexy as hell voluptuous red head made her way over to him as well. To his shock she placed a hand on his raging erection before saying “Not bad Jack.”With a lusty smile. Before adding “Congrats judging by that tent pole in your pants Jayne here has significantly improved you’re taste in women!  Jack then tried to shake off the weird feeling that had overcome him before checking the time and tried to get his hard on under control. He was supposed to meet a perspective model while she did some shopping for her next shoot. The young lady was nothing special your typical late teens early twenties airhead with delusions of being Americas next top model. She was a looker though and through Facebook networking alone she’d scored a handful of low paying gigs for herself. So he figured with Bethany acting like an idiot he could use a new cute young blonde. After texting back and forth a bit he found the store she was in at the mall and headed that way. As he passed through the entrance he spied he right away. From a distance it looked like she was exactly what he needed to potentially replace Bethany. She was dressed quite cute and rather modest as opposed to flashy. She had on a pair of skinny jeans, a white v-neck top, and dark blue jacket. Her shoulder length blonde hair was styled to perfection her green eyes popped even across the store and she seemed to know exactly what she was doing with her jewelry, makeup, and accessories. Jack’s interest was pretty well piqued until he moved in closer. As he drew nearer he was shocked by what he saw despite all the positives he had just observed there was no way he could hire this chick. She was so so … so absolutely scrawny. He found himself thinking. In truth she was no thinner then the vast majority of his clients but in his mind she seemed slim to almost a sickly degree. “Sure I mostly deal in slender girls but this slender? No way. He thought.” The young ladies thigh gap suddenly seemed to be a mile apart. Her waist painfully narrow and what had happened to her chest she had almost no breasts to speak of!” Jack began to turn around in order to avoid meeting with this possible anorexia case but she seemed to recognize him saying “Hi Jack? Over here it’s Kerry.” Feeling caught Jack then introduced himself. He tried to be friendly enough but there was no way he could work with this chick. His clients wanted skinny models sure but not ones this skinny! Then as they chatted a sales lady asked if she could help Kerry with anything. Jack then glanced her way and he was star struck the sales lady was drop dead gorgeous particularly standing next to this emaciated would be model. The lady was in her mid to late 20s with light blonde hair cropped short in a youthful pixie cut with a playful streak of pink. While a touch on the plump side Jack thought she had just the most gorgeous curvy figure strong sturdy legs, broad sexy hips, a well padded rear, a touch of softness on top of relatively hourglass torso, and plump busty chest. Not to mention that face which was round and full with dimpled cheeks, while still not overly fleshy, ruby lips, deep brown eyes, and perfect features. He also rather liked her style rocking a vaguely indie rocker look while still looking professional enough. When she noticed his gaze she cast him a smile that got him more than a little excited. He immediately began going through a checklist in his mind of if he could offer her a job rather then this bag of bones he’d come to meet with. What was she a size 10 or 12? That wasn’t so big maybe he could work with that. She was to plump for the cat walk he figured but then again he had started to get a few requests for plus size models which he had up to this time ignored. And even if she was too heavy for his current batch of clients with that face of hers she still had plenty of opportunities available to her in the makeup and hair world alone. He then suddenly remembered he did have one friend in the industry who kept a small number of plus size ladies on his roster. Then he glanced at the lady one last time and actually found himself thinking you know it’s too bad she wasn’t a few sizes bigger. He vaguely remembered his friend complaining that his models who were in between plus and straight size actually got the least work. Jack checked out her curvy figure once again with a shape like that she could handle a bit more padding he figured. Hell it may even make her resemble that sexy red head from earlier. “Umm Jack I thought we were like doing an interview why do you keep glancing over at that tubby sales girl.” Kerry asked. “Tubby!?” He exclaimed. "You should be ashamed talking like that she's a lovely young lady." Jack found himself answering. "Fine whatever she's cute for a fat chick. Now what about me? Are you going to help me with gig or not?" Kerry asked. "Sorry I just don't see my agency having a spot for you." Jack said dispassionately before adding "Your welcome to contact me again once your expand your portfolio a bit but for Christ sake before you do have a meal once a while put on a few pounds you look downright sickly." Jack added much to Kerry's surprise as she was unable to even respond to that outlandish suggestion. Jack then made his way over to the cash register and asked "Miss I don't suppose anyone's ever told you that you have a face for modeling?" "Aww that's so sweet handsome you don't have stretch the truth like that just to ask me out though." The sales lady replied. "Oh no I'm serious." Jack responded fumbling through his wallet looking for a business card. Picking it up off the counter the sales lady's eyes went wide "Wait you can't be serious? Me a model?" "No I mean it with a face like yours you'd have plenty of opportunities." Jack replied. "You mean if I lost a good bit of weight right?" The sales lady chuckled. "No not necessarily. You know with the market starting to change I figured my agency could use some clients with more so alternative looks." Jack responded. "Alternative looks? It's alright handsome my scale works your trying to say plus size right?" She asked. "Well umm I guess you could rephrase it that way." Jack replied. "I see so how many plus size models are on your agencies roster?" She asked. "Well it's a brand new department so umm maybe you could be the first Gabby." He said glancing at her name tag and having to force himself away from her deep sexy cleavage. "The first huh? So no joke you’re serious?" Gabby asked not knowing what to make of the offer. "Totally uh just Google the agency real quick if you'd like it's legit." Jack suggested. Gabby did so and was a bit taken aback to see that he wasn't lying or joking hell his photo was even on the site and in some of the videos. “So uh you haven’t hired like a single plus size model yet?” Gabby asked again. “No like I said brand new branch of the agency.” Jack answered. “I see well if you want cute plus size gals I’ve got to go introduce you to my friends over at Torrid.” Gabby eagerly suggested. “Torrid that’s a plus size store right?” Jack asked. “Yeah if you really think I’m model material just wait until I introduce you to some of my girl friends.” Gabby replied. “Sure if their half as attractive as you that would be a big help.” Jack responded. “Awesome handsome!” Gabby gushed before following up with “I’ve got a break coming up soon any way so let’s head out.” She said grabbing his by the wrist as she rushed out the door as quickly as her chubby thighs would carry her. As she reached out with her arm he caught the sight of a cute floral pattern section of tattoo on her forearm. “Oh and I hope it’s alright if their bigger than me.” Gabby asked to which Jack almost caught himself replying the “the bigger the better” Upon stepping into the store he was shocked by how attractive the staff and a healthy portion of the customer base seemed to be. He was baffled where were the frumpy porkers the grossly overweight women he’d always assumed frequented places like this? With only a few exceptions these ladies were shapely, voluptuous, or truly just big boned not grossly obese. Not to mention rather stylish and pretty. Jack didn’t understand it he considered himself a fairly open minded guy he could acknowledge it when once a blue moon you saw a heavier lady who was genuinely still attractive. But all throughout the day he seemed to have seen example after example of sexy plus size babes as if to show him that they were far more common than he had assumed. He was baffled where had ladies like this been his whole career? If sexy plus sized ladies had always been this common he’d have started a plus size division years ago. The idea that it was actually his own tastes which had changed never entered his mind. Instead the only explanation he could come up with was maybe all this talk about steroids and growth hormones being pumped into the food really was having an impact? Maybe all these cute plus size ladies would naturally be cute slender ones if not for the shit in the food these days? It seemed as good an answer as any he figured. Ch 7 Bethany awoke the next morning feeling rather excited as tonight was the big night she was going back for her second audition. After shopping and dinner Jayne and Tess had given her pointers and even helped her come up with her stage persona. With her new Betty Page haircut and ankle tattoos the proper moniker had suddenly come to them. On stage boring old Bethany would be the kinky voluptuous bad girl "Batty Page". Even thinking about the name put a devilish smile on her face. Her look had also been decided on. She'd take the stage wearing unassuming loose pants and a baggy white blouse before slowly stripping them off to reveal sexy vintage lingerie not to mention her new curves. Standing in front of the mirror Bethany simply could not get enough of her new curves. She had no clue how her chest had grown so many sizes in so little time but the question hardly worried her she was just ecstatic that they had. Cupping her bulging DDD breasts in her hands she simply could not get over how full, firm, and sensitive they had become. The weight too was a vast difference compared to the insignificant oranges she once possessed. Even her areolas and nipples had grown significantly. Feeling extremely naughty she decided to see if her breasts were large enough for her to lick her own nipples. To her surprise they were but just barely. This train of thought led her to wonder if Jayne or Tess who were even more well endowed could suck on their own nipples and if that was really as pleasurable as porn stars made it look? It wasn't just her breasts that had changed though. Her hips had grown significantly fuller and her ass significantly bigger which was a milder turn on but a turn on none the less considering the nonexistent ass she was use to. She absolutely loved becoming so voluptuous and buxom. The way men and women had begun to stare at her and the preferential treatment they had given her she simply could not get enough of. After Jayne and Tess departed she'd texted that hunky cashier and invited him over and it soon became obvious that she wasn't the only one strongly in favor of her new bust. If Bethany had been processing things more clearly though she'd have realized that it wasn't just her curves which had undergone another expansion. She had more or less grown into her new chubby round cheeks. Had she stepped on the scale she would have seen that she'd put on a minimum of fifty pounds since her last modeling gig. There was little beating around the bush now Bethany had officially become a plus sized babe. The new chubbiness of her thighs was major change from her once long lean chicken legs. Her tummy too had changed significantly. Long gone was her flat toned stomach. Now in its place rested a soft bulging belly and her once noticeable ribs had been long since iced other by new fleshy meat. Her upper body had changed quite significantly too. While she didn’t come all that close to the Amazonian looks of her new friends there was a new broadness to her shoulders and what seemed to be some muscle growth on her arms iced over by a thin layer of meat. Bethany was more or less oblivious to these facts though as she dressed in clothes a size or two larger than those she had tried on just yesterday. After getting ready she went out for late breakfast early lunch unfazed by her the new appetite she’d developed. Before leaving she engaged in some uncharacteristically forward flirting with the waiter going so far as to slip him her number. Upon arriving at home she changed into some unfamiliar workout garb and began her workout. Giving it little conscious thought she shifted from her normal routine which focused heavily on yoga and cardio to a weight intensive strength building routine. That her weight set had been upgraded yet again didn’t occur to her either. Once her workout was completed she settled into the recliner and flipped on the tv. Suddenly the Kardashian’s and Vanderpump Rules cast seemed ridiculously annoying not to mention painfully thin and airheaded. “Damn Khloe you’ve got to start eating again you look like hell without your curves.” She caught herself thinking before changing to a horror movie. Bethany had never had any use for horror movies but this one Return of the Living Dead suddenly seemed very cool and Bethany zoned out snacking and sipping on a few beers. She enjoyed the film so much she zoned out long enough to watch the sequel as well which she ended up considering inferior. After that one finished she checked the time and figured after stopping for a burger and a shake she should head to her audition. Upon entering the Club she found other performers Tess Von Voom, Blaire Witch, Sugar, and of course Jayne Minesfiled as their stage names went were already waiting on her. Blaire and Sugar seemed surprised by Bethany’s new looks. “Damn Becky looks like your skinny ass has filled.” Sugar remarked with a bit of surprise to her voice. “Chica mas voluptuosa.” Blaire added also looking surprised. “Their not wrong babe you’re looking thick and sexy.” Tess said. “You ladies should know better than to doubt me by now. Told you she had some potential.” Jayne added with authority. “Thanks girls it’s not Becky any more though that little twig has grown into the beautiful and bad Batty Page.” Bethany added before working her way up to the stage this time Moulin Rouge was not playing and instead it was Vampira by the Misfits. As Bethany began going through her routine she felt a one hundred and eighty degree difference from the last time. Gone were any doubts that she wouldn’t make the cut, gone were any nerves or jitters, and gone was any doubt about her own looks. Suddenly she felt strong, confident, and extremely sexy. In short she didn’t feel like weak little Bethany anymore she felt like …. Like Batty a strong, sexy, woman with a little bit of a bad streak in her. As she began to show more skin she found herself wishing she had more of an audience. It was a shame only the troop was seeing this. Batty Page’s debut to the world deserved more. After she began to show off her new bod she could tell she had the Blaire, Sugar, and Tess eating out of the palm of her hand although Jayne’s expression reveled little. She wasn’t performing for them though she was doing it for herself. By the time the blouse came off and her bountiful curves were let loose the trio were practically drooling over her of course with looks like hers Batty supposed she would too. Once her routine was finished the troop erupted in applause and Batty beamed with pride from their enthusiasm the old Bethany hadn’t gotten a reaction like that she thought with a smile. After the applause died down Jayne at last spoke up “Well if it wasn’t obvious by the other ladies enthusiastic acclaim honey you’ve certainly made the cut.” “After a reaction like that I would certainly hope so.” Batty chuckled. “Yes we do have just one more matter to settle before we make your membership official though.” Jayne replied. “Oh and what’s that?” Batty asked curiously. Jayne had now made her way up to the stage as had the other ladies. “Well truth be told we’ve been somewhat less than honest with you sug.” Jayne said with a slightly unsettling smile spreading across her face. “How so?” Batty asked feeling as though something was amiss. “Well for starters we aren’t just a burlesque troop you could also say we’re …how would you phrase it ladies?” Jayne asked. “Witches.” Tess responded bluntly. Batty then began to chuckle “Oh so we’re like wiccans right? Is that what ties all our shticks together?” “No honey we’re the real deal.” Jayne responded. “You can’t expect me to believe something like that?” Batty replied her chuckle growing more nervous. “I don’t know sug how else do you explain spouting those killer breasts and packing on like fifty pounds in a week.” Jayne remarked. “Ummm a couple ladies in my family thickened up in their mid 20s to 30s. And I’ve not gained fifty…. 15…20 tops.” Batty responded trying to rationalize her changing appearance. “Your right honey your thick family genes may have caught up to you but not this fast. Plus I’d say fifty is far more accurate what do you say?” Jayne said snapping her fingers before saying “Just check that mirror behind you.” Batty turned around and was mildly surprised half sure there hadn’t been a mirror there before. When she looked into it was as if the cloudiness that kept her only fixated on only her good curves had lifted. For the first time she perceived her new figure in full not just her new hourglass shape. Her chubby thighs, her soft plump little beginner belly, the meaty bulk of her upper arms and torso. In particular her now soft round face stood out to her as a total contrast to her former look. As she stared almost believing the mirror was stretching her reflection or something one of her hands reached upward to feel the new plumpness of her face while the other reach downward to grasp the new weight that had rounded and plumped up her stomach. Despite her hope that the mirror was laying she could feel the changes that had taken place in both areas. “Oh my God I’ve gotten so … so …chubby! How the hell did this happen?” She exclaimed. “Why all that eating you’ve done sug. All that fine dining had to settle somewhere. Five pounds here eight there with every meal we’ve been changing you from scrawny model to one of us.” Jayne said with a smile. “But why? Fucking how?” Batty exclaimed both her hands now gripping the layer of pork that had amassed around her waist before trying in vain to suck it in to some degree. “How don’t start talking like that airhead Bethany again. Witches remember stands to reason it was via magic then.” Jayne laughed. “As for the specifics though I’ll give you one guess what did all this start with?”Jayne asked. The answer was suddenly obvious “The corset!” Batty exclaimed. “There you go sug don’t let your new brain cells go to waste. Yes the corset every time you wore it especially every time you slept in it. It was rebuilding you little by little. Giving you that sexy hourglass shape, expanding your little thighs and waist, and adding new bulk up top. In short it was making a new woman out of you. A stronger, smarter, more beautiful one I’d say how about you? Don’t tell me you don’t love the new you especially these epic breasts?” Jayne grazing them with her index finger. "Well…yes but the rest .. you've made me so chubby." Batty replied calming a touch. "I made you… no no no sug I only gave you the corset I didn't make you wear nor did I make you fall in love with these amazing breasts now did I?" Jayne asked now cupping her expanded bosoms in each hand. "Feels like a distinction without a hell of a lot of difference." Batty responded. "Clever sug maybe you’re on to something there. I don't know why you should hold it against me though. Are you really going to miss being an air headed bag bones as opposed to a real woman? And as for your other wobbly bits I think these full chubby thighs are a hell of a lot sexier than your old twigs." Jayne said running a finger nail down one of Batty's thighs. "As for the tummy it's such a cute little thing. Ain't nothing sexy about rib bones a little belly though that shows that a woman enjoys life not starves herself. Plus a real man when you're lucky enough to find such a rare commodity they tend to appreciate having something to hold onto right ladies?" Jayne joked, too much applause before grabbing a hold of the slight love handles Batty had developed. “Come on honey you can’t tell me you don’t love the new you?” Jayne asked. Batty was still blown away by her new reflection in the mirror. Jayne wasn’t wrong she certainly didn’t hate the new her but she didn’t feel like this change was something she’d asked for either. “Maybe you’re not wrong. But why? Why me? Why do this at all?” Batty asked still somewhat rattled. “Oh lots of reason sug to refill our ranks for one. With Becky gone we’ve got shoes or should we say lingerie to fill.” Jayne said with a chuckle. “As for why you? You tell me? We didn’t pick you. You came to us. That’s how this works women come to us. Women seeking a change, a new direction, to let loose another side of themselves that’s been cooped up far too long. Sounds like you no? Weren’t you tired of your old life didn’t you feel like the walls were closing in your old life, career? Didn’t you feel you were aging out of your career your look getting stale? You wanted desperately to forge a new path for yourself right a more independent one? Well here you are.” Jayne responded. Just how persuasive Jayne was sounding was starting to bother Batty the more Jayne talked the more sense she seemed to make. “Take Tess here for instance. Not so long ago she was a pathetic little pushover of a thing walked all over by would be Don Drapers. You’re no pushover any more are you Tess?” Jayne asked. “You bet your fatass I’m not.” Tess responded. “Or Blair how about your tale not so long ago you were a yoga instructor right? What a waste starving yourself committing to nonsense pop philosophy all for what to keep weak men who desired scrawny little girls as opposed to women.” Jayne replied. “And Sugar if you can believe it use to manage one of those trendy nonsense health food stores. But she was far from healthy. She was unhappy, unfilled, and a struggling anorexic. We fixed that now didn’t we?” Jayne asked to which Sugar responded positively. Batty’s resolve clearly fading she then asked “Fair enough….but …but how? Magic really how can you do these things?” “Oh now that we can’t get to into detail on until we make you a full fledged member so to speak. But I’ll tell you this we get our power form an unfortunately forgotten deity whose name we’ll simply shorthand down to Regina. Regina was worshiped as a deity with dominion over feminine, beauty strength, fertility. It may come as a surprise but the standard for feminine beauty wasn’t always the rail like dimensions of your former self. Once women were expected to be bold, voluptuous, and powerfully built. Scrawny little girls simply weren’t likely to survive in harsher times. As such Regina was who offerings were made to in hopes that daughters would grow and flourish and that wives would become big beautiful providers for offspring of their own. Sadly such views fell out of fashion but some of us still prefer the old ways don’t you?” Jayne asked. Batty’s mind was racing as she struggled for an answer “Umm….uh y…yes.” She finally stammered. “What was that sug?” Jayne asked. Batty then took another look in the mirror. The weak little slip of a thing she had once been was already gone and even if there was some way to bring her back did she even want to? “Yes” Batty replied more confidently. “Excellent you’re not quite one of us yet though.” Jayne responded. “What’s left to do?” Batty asked. “I’m glad you asked.” Jayne responded before snapping her fingers and following the appearance of a cloud of mist a boiling cauldron appeared. “You need to drink deeply from this brew.” Jayne replied. “What happens then?” Batty asked her uneasiness returning. “Your change will become more permanent. Right now the corset hasn’t affected you as much as you think. This form isn’t so far removed from the one you were meant to have. In a few years had you started eating, your families genes kicked in etc you’d have ended up growing to about this size. Without the brew though this is less then permanent. You were right you didn’t exactly choose this path but for it to take root you must. Without the brew you’ll soon begin to lose your new muscle, your amazing breasts will shrink, weight and curves will fall off though probably not enough to return you to your former state. We don’t want to simply make this permanent though. We need for you to take a double dose. Becky left behind some big brassiere’s to fill and we need you to fill them. Simply put we’re going to build you up into a big ole babe just like Becky!” Jayne said with another sinister grin. Batty’s mind then began to instantly picture Becky. Wow Becky was a seriously big babe and they wanted to make her that big! Batty wasn’t sure what to think about that. Sure she wasn’t skinny any more but she wasn’t huge if she wanted she supposed she could tone up her jiggly middle at the size she was now without too much difficulty. Becky though that chick was BIG 200+ easily hell maybe even 250. Batty figured there probably wasn’t much coming back from that. Toning up or dropping weight if they made her that size would be difficult if not impossible. Maybe she was alright with what she looked like now but was she willing to become an official fat chick? She then studied the ladies around her if she agreed she’d become the biggest of the group easily. Tess and Jayne were probably in the ball park of 200 or more but compared to the images she’d seen of Becky they seemed merely plump and voluptuous Becky in contrast was a seriously hefty babe. “This..this is a lot to take in. I..I don’t know about going through with that. Becky was a really really big girl.” Batty responded her panic returning. “True. But she was big in the very best senses of the word BIG curves, BIG muscles, BIG personality, BIG appetites and I’m not just talking about for food.” Jayne chuckled. “Come on you saw her perform before don’t tell me Becky wasn’t an absolute beauty.” Jayne replied. Actually Batty wasn’t sure she had ever seen Becky perform but suddenly she could picture her perfectly. Her beauty, her strength, confidence, the way she worked the room, and God her curves that woman had some of the biggest breasts she had ever seen! Batty couldn’t argue that Jayne had a point. Becky was a true beauty. But to become so large could she handle that? What about her career? Maybe not with Jack but Batty still totally had the looks to work as a plus size model but at Becky’s would she have any sort of a day job waiting for her? “Sure she was but I’m just not sure if I handle becoming that … that big.” Batty responded her resolve fading a bit. “Oh sug you’re not thinking clearly. You’re just hung up on what Becky’s weight must have been on the scale and those were just numbers. Becky was taller then you and her curves were spread across a healthy core of muscle she wasn’t some overweight slob with a halfway pretty face. No she was a big beautiful powerfully built Amazon. Trust me that lady got precious little shit for her size. I mean who would dare criticize her for it. Plus I know you love these sexy new boobies of yours. Just imagine them even bigger. Maybe even twice as big. Hell you’d be the bustiest lady in town with the frame to support them. I mean your new girls are cute and all but their not even as big as mine wouldn’t you like to change that?” Jayne said giving one of Batty’s breasts another squeeze. With that remark Batty’s resolve weakened further still. She tried to picture herself with Becky’s humongous hooters it wasn’t an unpleasant thought in the least. She also thought about what Jayne had said about Becky’s build. She was right she was rather solid and powerfully built rather than excessively flabby. Then she thought about Becky’s height she had been taller than her by an inch or three but she was no small woman either maybe she had the frame to distribute that sort of influx of additional weight? “I see your thinking about it. Mmmm just imagine the big perfect melons.” Jayne said squeezing Batty’s breasts. “The wide womanly hips, the bodacious bottom.” Jayne now working her way down to Batty’s hips and backside. “And the frame and musculature to support it.” Jayne declared now feeling Batty’s beefier arms and broader shoulders. “Goodness sug you’ll be a goddess amongst ants take the deal before I drink it down for you!” Jayne announced with a bit of moan in her voice. “Don’t, I want it.” Batty responded bluntly the words leaving her lips at virtually the instant she had thought it. “Wonderful Tess Sugar why don’t you offer your new sister some support. Wouldn’t want her to panic before the change takes place.” Jayne announced. Then before Batty realized what she meant Tess and Sugar had moved in with surprising agility for such large ladies and had pinned her in place locking one of her arms each. Batty resisted naturally but despite being nearly the same size as the two they had her significantly outmatched in the strength department and she was weighed down by their anchor like weights. “Now sug what you causing a fuss for now? You made your choice their just there to make sure you don’t panic or get cold feet once we get started. They aren’t going to hurt you.” Jayne replied. Batty realized she was right she had asked for this there was no turning back now and she relaxed. Jayne then produced two fairly large chalices and filled them to the rim with the brew. After approaching Batty she then sat them on the floor at her feet and began to recite something in some language Batty did not recognize at all Latin perhaps? Eventually Jayne switched back to English declaring “Lady Regina please accept this puny wretch as one of your favored followers. By drinking deep of your nectar may she be remade in lines with your ancient ideals bigger, stronger, smarter, and of course far more beautiful then she was before.” Jayne then raised one of the chalices to Batty’s mouth before declaring “Now drink and be changed!” Batty’s mind had been racing and while Jayne had been speaking she wondered if Jayne would try to force the liquid into her but within an instant of finishing she had instinctively gone for the liquid and began to drink it down. It was absolutely awful thick, hot, and bitter. However despite this she gulped it down greedily taking not even a single break to breathe. As she lapped it down Jayne raised the chalice and still more of it continued into her. Batty had begun to wonder if the drink had a bottom because no matter how much she gulped down more and more continued to flow from it. Finally after she’d totally lost track of time the chalice finally ran empty. “Wonderful job that was every single drop. Congratulations with that the old pathetic slender Bethany is gone drowned by Regina’s nectar. I think the new you still has some room for growth and improvement though don’t you?” Jayne asked. Batty huffed for a bit trying to catch her breath before replying “Yes! More!” “Ask and ye shall receive.” Jayne laughed before raising the second chalice to her mouth. Again Batty without even thinking about it greedily sucked the liquid down only this time it tasted infinitely better while the force had been somewhat rough to get down this one went down smoothly and sweetly and the more Jayne poured the more she wanted. Finally this one too ran empty. “Huff…huff… nothing’s happened?” Batty asked confused. “Give it a moment sug oh and best we get rid of these before they smother you.” Jayne said before cutting off her vintage lingerie with one of her nails which was suddenly razor sharp. Batty felt slightly uneasy being completely naked in front of the group but it passed within seconds as she could feel it happen. She couldn’t articulate how it felt exactly other than mildly orgasmic but it was happening she was changing. All at once her body was filling up and out as new pounds and inches established themselves. Her chubby thighs first grew sturdier as a layer of muscle established itself before quickly being coated by another layer of pork. Her figure also spread out several inches as both her hips and shoulders strengthened and broadened. As her hips spread out her plump little bubble butt took on a life of its own expanding into one seriously hefty badonkadonk. Her waist to changed as a new round of pounds settled into her pudgy little beginner belly. In seconds it outgrew the euphemism of pudgy though as it rounded out and established it’s as the full fledged fattened up tummy of a woman who appreciated some seriously fine dining. Her arms meanwhile swelled with a unique mixture muscular strength and ample coating. Her breasts though were where the biggest changes were taking place. With her new bulk she shock off Sugar and Tess with relative ease and cupped her breasts as they gradually expanded. Batty was absolutely mesmerized by how they blossomed. They had seemed so large already but now they were as large as Jayne’s and still growing. Right before her eyes they were growing rounder, fuller, and heavier and flying through the cup sizes Es, Fs, Gs. And as they swelled she could also feel her torso continue to change. Her spine straightened her shoulders and even lat muscles strengthen to support these massive water melons. By the time they swelling came to a stop all she could see when looking down was cleavage and breasts! She had gone busty Ds to simply humongous H cups? She had little idea she’d never seen breasts like this in person. To her surprise though despite their great size and weight their sag was about as minimal as one could ever hope for given their dimensions. “So you like?” Jayne asked snapping her fingers and causing a full length mirror to appear before her. Batty then saw the minor changes that her face had undergone her face had grown a bit plumper still along with just the ghost of a double chin. Once she could pry her eyes off the enormous breasts before her she also wondered if she had grown a couple inches in height? And then it hit her she hadn’t grown to the same size as Becky. She’d literally grown into an exact replica of her overfed fit fat Amazonian proportions. Batty was in absolute awe at the reflection looking back at her. This woman had almost nothing in common with Bethany Bishop up and coming runway model. But maybe that was a good thing? She then explored her new form her breasts, the new swell of her tummy, the new firmness of her arms. Oh my god I'm so f..fa..fa..t.."No I love I look fucking fabulous!" She declared confidently. "Mmmm that you do sug that you do. Hell I'd say your even bigger then Becky and certainly more beautiful." Jayne said exploring Batty's supersized bod a bit before giving her a hug. "Welcome to the Coven you've just entered a whole new world. Now let's get you some clothes hopefully some of Becky's old stuff will fit I've got some of her stuff in the back. Batty followed her and after reaching the back room Jayne did some rummaging around before tossing her an outfit and saying "Let's see if this fits?" As Batty tried it on Jayne added "Oh and do me a favor sug hit up Jack tomorrow." "That dick why?" Batty asked surprised. "Well he and I had a brief talk at the mall and I think I talked some sense into him regarding women of size and I'd like for you to see if I'm right?" Jayne replied. "You mean you put a spell on him?" Batty asked. "Oh a minor whammy at best. Just a nudge really he's a boob man right? Well I say the line between a boob man and a chubby chaser is a thin one and maybe I nudged him right across it." Jayne chuckled. "Why even bother? Batty asked. "Because of his agency. Just think what he could accomplish for ladies of our size if he wasn't so wrapped up in skinny bitches?" Jayne asked. "Interesting point." Batty responded. "Very interesting I say. Just think with his resources maybe we could even liberate some pathetic skinny little women from the clutches of starvation diets and encourage them to embrace their potential curves." Jayne laughed. "If that be Regina's will." Batty caught herself responding instinctively. "Having a little trouble there sug?" Jayne asked as Batty played with the outfit. "Yeah uh it's a little snug." Batty giggled. "Where?" Jayne asked. "Umm the middle and around the ta tas mostly." Batty responded. "Damn sug you really did out grow Becky a little. Don't worry looks to me like your even sexier though. Now give me a look and we'll see what we can do about it." Jayne responded. Batty then turned around to give Jayne the full view. She had tried on one of Becky's old outfit it was a sexier as well as edgier version of a retro housewives dress jet black with white fringe and cut to show off plenty of legs and cleavage. Batty was right though it was definitely a size or two small for her putting even more of her chest on display. Jayne judged that she looked quite sexy if a little uncomfortable due to dresses tightness. "Damn sug you really did outgrow Becky by a bit." Jayne giggled. "Good more of me to love right?" Batty joked. "Oh honey you have no idea." Jayne said with a smile admiring her handy work. "Too bad about the outfits though." Batty responded. "Not at all we can fix that." Jayne said before snapping her finger's which resulted in the dress increasing by a size or so to better cover Batty's supersized curves. Anonymous 04/17/17 (Mon) 19:02:55 No.1637 >>909 Epilogue 3 Months Later Kim and Stacy sat in the lobby of Jack's agency waiting to see him. As soon as they sat down though they couldn't believe what they were seeing. Framed on the wall was the cover of some fetish rag that Jack's new girlfriend had posed as the cover model for. The duo had been utterly flabbergasted by his hooking up with this chick whose name also seemed to be Bethany but she preferred going by her stage name Batty Page. How the hell she'd slithered her way into his life was beyond them. He'd often seemed to date within the agency and Stacy had hoped it would be her turn after he'd finally broke it off with that basic bitch Bethany but then this lady had come out of nowhere and she was very much not his type. This Bethany was an absolutely supersized lady with some of the largest breasts Stacy had ever seen. She was also some sort of Burlesque dancer and alternative model. And ever since she'd shown up Jack had made some crazy business decisions and this seemed to be the craziest yet. Stacy looked up at the framed cover. The magazine was called "Second Skin" and was apparently the Cosmo of fetish. Batty Page was seductively posed with a black riding crop and dressed in a shiny, black latex parody of a 1950's pencil suit. Her bee stung lips in a cruel pout. Her massive pale white breasts jutted out like torpedoes and the center of the dressed attempted to cinch her waist into a cartoonish hourglass. Even through the tight latex, Stacy could make out the outline of a rounded tummy. All and all, Batty looked like the over fed cousin of a retro bondage pinup. But kind of hot, Stacy had to admit. "The hell latex lingerie? That's a thing? Freaking weird." Stacy remarked. "Who gives a damn what that whale is wearing I just want to know what the fuck Jack is doing trying to market her. Instead of me…us!" Kim barked. "With Bethany gone it's our turn god damn it. But instead that sumo sized bitch is ruining our agency." Stacy continued. "I know…I ..I don't know what's gotten into Jack's head. Kim responded flabbergasted "He's suddenly convinced that the markets ready to embrace these crazy plus size and alternative looks! Did you hear he told Lauran he'd chip in heavily if she wanted to get more tattoos. Like like a LOT more tattoos. She's going to be a tattoo model apparently." Stacy responded. "Plus size you mean fat fuck size!" Stacy barked. "Hell forget the tattoos apparently he gave Nikki this a huge check and in return she's shaved her head like Amber Rose and she's going to start doing lots of crazy haircuts." Kim continued. "I don't care how much he offers me I'm not shaving my freaking head if that's what he offers me." Stacy replied. "Screw that unless this meeting is to tell us he's done with this crazy experimenting I'm quitting." Kim chimed in. "Feel free to quit then I won't stop you. Or you can step inside for our meeting." Jack responded without the two realizing he had stepped into the lobby. Kim probably didn't think much of it but Stacy was blown away by his change in appearance. Matching he's new girlfriend he'd also adopted a somewhat more punk look and at the moment he was rocking a leather jacket and a slicked back platinum blonde hair look that reminded her of James Marsters. He also looked bigger like he'd always been a really slim guy but he'd seemed to have packed on some weight and muscle tone recently. Kim looked a bit afraid having been caught mid rant but the two proceeded into his office none the less. To their surprising waiting on them in the office was his new girlfriend. Stacy hadn't been around her much and suddenly she had to admit for such a massive babe she maybe got what Jack saw in her she was sexy in her own outside the box way. Currently she was dressed in black daisy duke style jean shorts that showed off her semi solid tree trunk legs not to mention her incredibly curvy hips and backside. Her top meanwhile was a Misfits t shirt with cut off sleeves and a v neck design that caused her seemingly mile of cleavage to be placed on prominent display. The cut off sleeves also drew attention to her massive arms. Stacy had to give the chick this although she must eat like a horse to have grown so large but she also seemed to hit the gym a lot. Her upper body wasn't all athletic looking though as the swell of her plump pale tummy and love handles frequently threatened to protrude from beneath the slightly to small shirt. "So I see you two were discussing Bethany's magazine cover. As it should be obvious by now I'm taking the agency in a bit of a different direction focusing less on dime a dozen size 0s and more on alternative models." Jack explained. "So does this mean we're out of the job?" Stacy asked. "That depends. I'm already stacked when it comes to slim models especially one's with no distinguishing looks. However if you'd like to keep your jobs I plan to significantly push our new plus size division and I rather like the idea of chronicling a skinny girl going plus size. So what do you two say any takers?" Jack asked. "This.. this is fucking crazy I'm out." Kim barked before storming out of the office. Stacy meanwhile sat there another moment looking at Jack's girlfriend particularly her gigantic breasts! Batty then wiggle waddled over to Stacy who was seated in a chair and leaned over spilling her cleavage out just inches from her face. "So what do you say honey any interest in ditching the boney look and getting yourself some big ole titties like mine?" The next thought that entered Stacy's mind was "If you can't beat them join them." She simply couldn't pull her gaze from those gigantic sexy breasts. As she stared she even found herself picturing what it was like to have those. Which led to her envisioning herself with similar supersized hooters. The image though was utterly ridiculous how could a skinny chick like her support those giant things? This plot hole was then resolved by her mental image fattening up and sporting a similar plus sized body to the Amazon standing before her. She was acting crazy she thought trying to shake off that mental picture. "You mean those udders why the hell would I want to look like that?" Stacy responded. Batty then got a devious smirk on her face and responded with "You keep staring and I can tell it's not a stare of disgust it's of jealously. Stop pretending hun trust me you'd love the new you I sure as hell did." "What that's absolute crazy talk." Stacy responded with bothered by the idea that she was jealous of this fat chick. "Tell you what if you want to stare how about I give you a real close look" Batty chuckled before shoving Stacy's face right into the expansive plush of her breasts. Then after a few seconds she pulled Stacy up by her feet and said "Come on just feel what your missing out on." before smothering her in a bear hug. After a moment she loosened her hold looked Stacy in the eyes. To Stacy's shock Batty's eyes seemed to have an odd glow to them. Then Batty went in and kissed Stacy on the cheek right after whispering something in her ear. Following the kiss Stacy had a strange feeling come over her body. She couldn't describe it any other way but as pleasurable and once the feeling had passed her clothes had become tight. Little did she know she'd just packed on 15 pounds with many more to soon follow. Smothered up against her like she was Batty could feel the change in Stacy's frame. Stacy's thighs had grown a bit rounder, her hips a touch broader the biggest changes were in her upper body though Batty could feel a hint of softness straining against Stacy's waistband as well as a slightly fuller chest. "Now now take it down a notch Bethany don't want HR filing a complaint against us." Jack laughed. "Oh no no.. it's fine on second thought I think I am interested actually anything to support the agency." Stacy said nervously. "Trust me hun you won't regret it." Batty said with a big smile. "So umm how much were you thinking about me gaining?" Stacy asked with a nervous laugh. "Oh honey we're going to build you up into a great BIG babe just like me. Hope you're hungry my friend Jayne just dropped off a great big apple pie and I'm going to need help finishing it." Batty said. "I'm not really one for sweets." Stacy replied. "Oh you'll make an exception for this trust me honey her recipe is absolutely magical. And when we're done I've got a special gift for you." Batty responded. 6 Months later Jack had just finished hanging a new framed magazine cover in his lobby and looked it over feeling a touch of pride. It was of his two most popular models Batty Page and Dolly Dreams formerly known as Stacy. At first glance you'd have never recognized her as Stacy. Under Bethany's influence Stacy hand undergone some BIG changes. Bethany had exaggerated a little she hadn't made Stacy/Dolly into a great big babe like her but she'd come damn close plumping her up into a 220 or so pound plus size cutie pie. The cover featured Batty and Dolly posed in front of the American flag with the Headline of the alt fashion magazine Stunner reading "We are going to make you believe in a curvier America!" Under this headline a smaller caption read "Skinny model ditches diet and embraces natural curves and she thinks you should too!" Following this were a selection of quotes from her interview including such gems as "The men in my life can't get enough of my new curves." and "And I feel like the thin me just wasn't the real me." In the corner of the page they had included a small picture of Stacy's former look slim, medium length dirty blonde hair, dark tan attractive Jack still conceded but utterly interchangeable with any of the 20 something chicks on the various CW tv shows. As such the former her paled in comparison to Dolly who stood next to Batty saluting the American flag. They were both decked out like sexier Rosie the Riveter's. Batty's look of course having more than a touch of punk rock edge. Dolly meanwhile more so had the look of a cutie all American girl next door if she was brought up on a diet of equal parts hard work and apple pie. Admiring Dolly she also developed some semi solid tree trunk thighs and broad womanly hips. Unlike Batty though more of her weight had settled into her rear giving her one full sexy backside partially on display due to the angle of the image. That wasn't to say she hadn't also developed some big ample torpedo size hooters although hers jetted out at only an E-cup. Her middle meanwhile had plumped up majorly as she'd grown big all over as opposed to Batty's hourglass shape. Like Batty she had developed some firm muscle tone up top coated in a layer of pork giving their Rosie flexes considerable umph compared to the original. Finally Jack admired Dolly's cute girl next door face framed by her victory roll hair style. Dolly's face had absorbed more weight than Batty's giving her a plump chubby dimpled face with a noticeable second chin. The chubby roundness helped to give her a slightly younger appearance then Batty the larger of the two in both build and height despite their being nearly the same age. All in all Jack couldn't be happier with how the cover turned out and couldn't wait to take the two out for dinner to celebrate.
  11. The Competition ( culture change, wip, good story, degeneration. Liam smiled as he saw his friend up ahead. "Hey Carson!" He walked over, smiling. "Ready to do this, man?" Like many young men their age, the two often butted heads over certain issues, each seeking to prove they were the better in the competition. However, this competition today would be far from ordinary. Liam grinned and patted his bag. "Got the laptop here, pal! Honestly, how can you think a little hocus pocus can match up to the shit I found on that program? It's the 21st century, for crying out loud!" The two set off walking, eyes checking out the crowd at the mall… "No way your program can match the mystical arts man." Carson replied as he scanned the crowd. "You're just stuck with whatever the program pumps out. My magic gives me finesse." Today was the big day. Liam and Carson had been arguing over the merits of their respective transformation abilities for a while now. Carson had been taken in as a wizard's assistant about a year ago. It had taken a lot of practice to learn the spells, and when he had he showed his buddy Liam. They'd had a good time with it, but suddenly Liam found some program that could change people as well. Ever since then they'd argued which method was better. Now they were going to find out. "So we've got the rules straight, right? We pick each other's targets, specify changes, and can give challenges." Carson received a nod from Liam in understanding. "Okay, cool. Your turn first. You see those two little girls by the wishing fountain? For the next ten minutes make them aware their wishes will change each other, and change them accordingly." Liam grinned, and gave Carson a thumbs up. "No problem." He set up his laptop, and scanned in the two girls. Both 12 years old… both went to the same school even. Amy Phillips and Lisa Washington apparently… Lisa was evidently a girl who would grow up to be pretty, with long, jet black hair. Amy was a freckled redhead, and chubbier than Lisa. The two were clearly not friends. In fact, Lisa was bullying Amy once again, who was close to tears. Lisa pushed Amy, almost pushing her back into the fountain. "What a crybaby!" Lisa jeered. "Stop it!" Amy was pleading. "I wish you'd just grow up!" And with that, noticing they were stood next to the wishing fountain. Liam decided to intervene. Lisa mainly laughed off Amy's pathetic little wish, but then both stared in shock… as Lisa began to grow! She was definitely getting taller! But that wasn't all. She was… aging too! Puberty definitely kicked in now, as Lisa was now nearly 5'7", and had filled out nicely, with nicely formed breasts and hips. She looked to be at least 18 now… Which was what Liam had edited her age to be, from 12. She made quite a hot 18-year old too! Amy was staring, agasp, at her former bully. Who stared back. "What… what did you do to me?" she stammered. Liam and Carson laughed at this scene. They even ogled the new, rather hot Lisa a bit too. Amy was stammering in shock. "I… I… I don't know… I just… made a w-wish… and I think… it came t-t-true!" she blurted out. Lisa looked down at her new body, and then at the fountain. It was impossible… but she put two and two together… and spoke out. "I… um… wish I was back to how I was!" She liked her new form… but she didn't want to lose 6 years of her life like that! Liam, of course, did nothing. Carson had stipulated, that only wishes on each other could work. Of course, Lisa and Amy didn't yet know this, and Lisa kept trying. "I wish I was younger again! I wish my age was twelve!" Damnit, this had to work. "I wish I was as young as you!" She said to Amy, and Liam stepped in on this one. However, it would not work in the expected way. And certainly not on Lisa. Liam clicked on Amy's profile. He clicked on age, which of course read "12". And he now changed that to "18", too! Both girls once again stared in shock… as Amy too began to grow and age to 18! So now, Lisa was indeed as young as Amy! However, Liam checked Amy's profile. In contrast to Lisa, who'd grown up into quite the stunner… the already plainer, chubbier Amy had clearly had the years of bullying take a further toll. While somewhat pretty now, she was clearly not in Lisa's league like this… and she'd clearly taken to eating to help with the bullying, while hardly obese, or even really that fat, she was still out of shape, at a rather heavy 175 pounds, with ill-fitting clothes. Amy just gaped at her new body, even more shocked than Lisa had been. And while she was speechless, even the surprised Lisa was already smiling and laughing at her apparently still victim. "Wow! You got even fatter, huh?" she laughed. While Amy just gaped, Lisa was at least pleased that apparently her wishes worked. Both were slowly clocking on too, that wishes only worked on the other person… Likely no way that either would agree to return the other to normal now. But could Lisa exploit this? "I wish I was prettier than you!" Lisa said, to Amy. And just like before, this change didn't affect Lisa. Instead, Amy's looks deteriorated further! Her teeth now became crooked, and yellowed somewhat. Her freckled face now became heavily acne-ridden, while her long red hair became thick with grease. She'd gone from rather plain, if slightly pretty, to unattractive, even outright ugly! Lisa was disappointed it didn't make her hotter, but still nonetheless pleased. Amy, however, nearly cried as she looked at her reflection in a nearby shop window. She wanted to beg Lisa to work together, to return themselves to normal. But part of her longed to see vengeance now, on the girl who'd bullied her throughout school. "I wish… you were pregnant!" Amy cried… and Liam made it so! Lisa stopped laughing straight away, and moaned, as her belly swelled outwards, pushing harder and harder against the front of her jeans. Her breasts also grew into nice C or even D-cups now, filled with milk. And worse, this was no mere simulation of pregnancy. Lisa could feel the baby boy kicking inside her. Her hormones were driven crazy. She felt starving… but for, oddly, pickles and burgers! And her emotions ran wild. Both Amy and Lisa couldn't believe this was happening to them. Mere minutes ago, they'd been ordinary 12-year old girls, now both were 18, Amy was very unattractive and Lisa appeared to be 9 months pregnant! And Lisa was NOT happy at what Amy had done to her! At all! "I… look so fat!" she moaned. She looked close to tears, likely more due to the hormones than anything else. "And I feel… awful!" Amy was just about to call a truce, and set about having them each change the other back. But a furious Lisa struck before anything else could happen. "Think you'll make me fat?" she demanded, clearly more upset about that aspect of her appearance, than any other part of her pregnancy. "Well, I wish you were the fattest girl in school!" Amy opened her mouth to scream, thinking of the current fattest girl in school, who weighed over 300 pounds! But no sound came out, luckily attracting no attention from any passerby. She was simply too horrified. "N-no…" she moaned instead. But it was too late. The already heavy girl swelled outwards. Soon, her belly was already bigger than Lisa's. And then she overtook the previous fattest girl in school… and left her far behind! Her clothes luckily grew with her, but remained skintight and far too small for the now obese Amy. She was enormous now. She dwarfed the previous fattest girl… as Amy was now 400 pounds! Her previously fat face now had two huge chins, almost a third! Her breasts were massive, but wobbled shapelessly atop her gigantic belly. Her arms and legs were like an elephant's, and her ass was possibly the biggest part of her! "Oh no… oh no… oh no…" Amy whispered. Liam and Carson were definitely enjoying the supernaturally-empowered argument they had created. Meanwhile Amy looked down at her obese body with a groan, as Lisa's pregnant belly rumbled with hunger. She really needed some pickles now! Amy wanted her revenge upon her tormentor… but knew she had to end this now, before her situation got even worse! Lisa was smiling, and clearly about to make another wish. Amy panicked, and quickly made the first wish. Anything to try to stop this madness! "I wish you were just a kid again!" Carson looked at Liam. Stalemate? Neither of them wanted this back the way it had started. Liam indeed looked stalemated… Until he smiled. Perfect way to finish this! Especially as the ten minutes were nearly out! As the wish took effect, Lisa's pregnant belly shrunk down… as did she! Lisa was shocked but slightly relieved, returning to 12 again! She began to smile… but she didn't stop there! Soon, she was 10! Then 8! Then 6! Then, she shrunk down into a baby, before Amy's horrified eyes, and finally… vanished. Amy was horrified. What had she done?! But then… she began to change herself! Liam's laptop had determined that in making Lisa unborn, as he had, it had to go to the nearest woman, of mothering age… to be her mother! And not only hers, but also Lisa's baby, now her twin brother… growing within Amy's womb! "Oh no!" Amy shrieked again, as her belly swelled even further! Her breasts became even more bloated with milk too! And her hormones warped the same way that Lisa's had earlier! As Amy slumped to her huge ass, and began to cry into her hands, she thought of how she was now 18, unattractive, obese, and pregnant! She couldn't have kids! She was still a kid herself! But Liam began to implant new memories now. Amy kept her old ones… just had new ones. Ones of being bullied every day, and retreating into food to comfort herself, getting fatter and fatter, until she was obese. It only made her feel worse… So she had began sleeping around. She'd literally sleep with any guy who'd have her… which admittedly wasn't many. Any attempt to feel pretty. And lo and behold, soon she'd ended up pregnant with twins… and had no idea who the father was… She still hated Lisa, her old bully… but at the same time… still loved Lisa and her twin brother Leon with all her heart. Drying her eyes, she lumbered to her fat feet. Amy waddled towards the food court, enormous belly rumbling. "C'mon kids…" she mumbled. "Mummy's eating for three now…" "I've got to admit that toy of yours has some power" Carson said as he watched the new mother head towards the food court "but it's nothing I couldn't do." Carson noted the frown cross his friend's face. "Don't be like that. It's still early in the game and I gave you a compliment. I'm up next. What do you want to see?" Carson scanned the crowd, wondering who Liam would pick. Liam felt sure that nobody could possibly top that. He glanced once more at Amy, lowering her bulk onto two separate chairs with difficulty, waiting for her massive meal to be brought over. And then he began scanning the crowd with his laptop, looking for the ideal target. Then to think up a challenge. And then he found just the right one. Or two, rather. Diana Walker was out shopping with her fiance, Sean Patterson. The two were almost sickening, in more than one way. Firstly, their looks. Diana was a gorgeous, tanned brunette, with long brown hair, and a slim physique. Sean was well-built, nearly six feet tall, and very handsome, in a classic, chivelled way, with short brown hair and a beard. But also their fortunes too. Diana was 31, and a well-loved, very nice teacher at one of the best schools in the city, Sean was 36, and an investment banker, and just as nice and generous as Diana. And to further add to this, the pair were almost sickeningly happy, madly in love. To either of them, the other was a visage of perfection, and they couldn't wait to be married together. They held hands, smiling with excitement, and periodically kissed. Liam grinned at Carson. "How about this? Keep changing one or both of them in whatever way you want, physically, mentally or otherwise… until you've split them up, forever. But the only rule is this, keep their memories, and knowing they're being changed!" This was another area where Carson and Liam differed. Carson enjoyed a bit of showmanship, and liked to give people at least some sort of chance when he changed them. It was almost like a game sometimes. If they ended up worse for the wear it was their own fault. Even with his challenge Amy and Lisa had the opportunity to help each other, but they couldn't stop squabbling and faced the consequences. Still, Carson wasn't one to back down, and his pride wouldn't allow him to lose. "You make it too easy sometimes Liam. Alright watch and learn." Carson took off his top hat, revealing his short and shaggy black hair. There was a time the fashion choice would be very odd indeed, but in the age of hipsters he received less stares than his master would. Reaching inside he pulled out a simple wand. It was the kind of thing a parent might give a child to play with, black with a white tip. Carson's master had gone on a tirade about how his wands had become cliche, and Harry Potter had created unrealistic expectations. Carson pointed at the couple and got to work. "There's still so much planning to do." Diana complained to Sean. "How willed get everything in place in just three more months?" Sean put a comforting arm around his fiancée. "Don't worry Sweetie. It will be the perfect wedding for the perfect bride." Diana smiled back at him, then paused. "Honey, when was the last time you shaved?" Sean was confused by the question. He had meticulously trimmed his beard this morning. There was no way it could look wrong. He did feel a bit odd though. If he had to describe the feeling it would be… Itchy. Yeah, that was it, itchy. "I shaved this morning." He replied turning back to Diana. "When did you pierce your ears?" Diana had felt a pinching briefly, and raising a hand to her ears revealed Sean was right. She pulled out her compact and saw a stud in each ear. The pinching returned and several more pieces of metal joined them. Then the feeling came to her nose, then tounge, her lips, then lower. Diana let out a small moan as metal pierced her nipples and clit. "What's happening Sean?" She put down the compact and saw Sean, but he was different. Sean's hair was more ragged, as if he hadn't shaved in a while, darker and coarser. It wasn't just that. He looked to be getting more muscular. With each second that passed his muscles pulsed, abs tightening, triceps bulging. In moments he looked like he could knock out Hercules. His outfit changed to tight jeans and a tank top that showed every rippling fiber of muscle. Diana couldn't help feeling turned off. She couldn't place a finger on why, but she hated people with physiques like this. She knew that moments ago she loved that Sean went to the gym each week, but she couldn't stand the idea of it now. Meanwhile Sean was watching Diana change further. Her sleeves disappeared revealing arms covered in various tattoos of all sizes and shapes. There were elaborate depictions of koi fish, some skulls, and two female gender symbols joined together. Her clothes changed. Diana now wore white and black striped stocking under a pair of red jean shorts. Her torso was covered by a black t-shirt with the sleeves cut away. Diana's hair shortened to a pixie cut, before being hidden under a black beanie. "Sean, I'm scared." Diana was trying her best to hold back tears. "Don't worry baby. We'll figure out how to fix this." Sean tried to sound strong. He wasn't sure if it was for Diana's benefit or his own. "What do you think we should do Sean?" Diana asked more calmly. In fact, she didn't feel afraid any longer at all. This actually felt kind of exciting. Some force was changing them, and there was nothing they could do. Diana could only think of the things she could do with that kind of power. "I'm not really sure. This whole thing is just crazy. What if we can't change back? What if we keep changing? How will we ever know we are safe?" Sean was terrified. He'd never been this scared in his whole life. Suddenly everything seemed more terrifying. Was that women staring at him? That guy who just passed by bumped him slightly. Did it mean something? Were those two boys talking about him? All Sean knew was he wanted someone to hold him, and comfort him. He wanted someone to speak sweetly to him. "Would you get a fucking spine." Diana groaned at the pathetic display in front of her. Since when was Sean such a pansy? She'd get no where with him like this. As she watched the muscular man quiver like a scared kid she couldn't help feeling repulsed. "You know what? I don't even give a fuck about changing back. I like the new me." "B-But Diana, we have to try. Please." Sean pleaded, but saw no sympathy in Diana's eyes. He did see her change again though. Her face looked fresher, more like how it had when they first met years ago. She seemed so young now. The more Sean looked at Diana the more he couldn't see how things would work out. She had become so mean, and she didn't even care. What he needed was an older woman who could take care of him. He needed someone to coddle him, and make sure everything was alright. He needed someone to be his mama. "No, I'm fucking done with you. I can't stand to look at you anymore." Diana proclaimed as she watched Sean's penis thin men and lengthen in his pants in disgust. "I can't stand anything about the new you. You're a total pussy. No that's not fair. Pussy is so much better than you. A nice fat pussy." Diana moaned as she knew her tastes changed. She imagined fat women bent down before her, lapping at her cunt. She wanted to dominate them, and watch them grow fatter. Knowledge of how to tend bar, and make the perfect drink came to her as she decided to quit her old job. After all, she was back to being a sexy 24 year old. "Let's just forget the wedding. I've got bigger and better people to check out." Diana said as she walked past Sean. Sean stared after her dumbly for a second before tears filled his eyes. He couldn't help but run away crying. Diana paid him no mind. She had found the perfect girl to start a new relationship with. A lonely looking thing that was taking up two chairs by herself. Her size, the way she was putting away food, how every fold quivered as she moved. Diana quickly made her way over and sat before the girl. "Hey I'm Diana. Anybody ever tell you how damn hot you are?" "Oh, um, I'm Amy. Not really." The obese cutie introduced herself. "You'd better get used to it." Diana smirked. With one last flourish of his wand Carson leaned back in his chair. "Next time give me something hard. That was so simple I had to create my own fun with it." Carson could tell his friend was not happy with him. "You can check your program. I didn't cheat, they still remember everything, and know exactly how they've changed. You're up next. See that son and father over there. Their names are Jake and Lucas Heywood. Jake is all of 17 while his dad's 48. From what I can discern they have a pretty negative view of anyone who isn't white. I want you to copy and give them a trait from every woman or girl of another race they pass until they're both fully women." Liam had chosen to give Carson an easy task to start with, and one that was definitely enjoyable. Love was supposedly the great, unconquerable force… and so it was pleasing to think that his own power, and Carson's, could destroy even that, with such ease. He watched as Sean ran crying from the mall, and Diana continued to flirt with the obese, pregnant Amy. But then he turned his attention to his next victims. Carson had given their names, but Liam needed more information. And so, he scanned the pair. Indeed, Jake and Lucas Heywood. Jake was 17, Lucas his father at 48. But Carson had made something of an understatement. Jake and Lucas were outright racist in their views, hating anyone who wasn't white, or even vaguely foreign. This had to change… and so did they! The son and father entered a sporting goods shop. They were looking to make an order on some hunting equipment. Both considered themselves "men's men", and were almost exaggerated in that regard. Jake was tall, around 5'7", and fairly slim, but well-toned and muscular, and with blonde hair and blue eyes. His father was easily recognizable as such, only broader and more muscular, taller around 5'9", and visibly older. However, as they made their way to the gun aisle, to look at them, they spotted something that made them pause, and consider leaving the store. It was another customer, who, in their opinion, had violated two sacred rules, and shouldn't be here. The customer was female, and why should a woman be in a HUNTING store?! And two… "Fucking niggers… Just can't get them out of our country, and back to where they came from…" Jake muttered to his father. Despite the fact that the woman was speaking with a clear American accent, and was clearly American. At this point, Liam struck in. He made a relatively simple change. Well, simple, as in he literally unticked a box, and ticked another, on Jake, Lucas, and then on the black woman's profile. But complex from Jake and Lucas's point of view… "I know, honey. And I know he's a man, but your father wouldn't be pleased to hear that a nigger was in his favourite store…" Louise said to her daughter, Jade. Liam had indeed swapped traits with the trio. The black woman, was now a black man! But she, now he, seemed completely unfazed, as if he'd always been a man! And likewise, Jake and Lucas Heywood were now… mother and daughter Louise and Jade Heywood. They were now women! And thought they'd always been! The program had kept them mostly as similar to their previous forms as possible, as nothing else had been changed. They still had their blue eyes, but now their blonde hair was hanging longer down their backs. Their physiques had slimmed quite a bit, becoming more femininely fit. Their genitals had completely swapped to female, and they each now had a pair of breasts, even if they were only A-cups for now. And now, they were only in here to buy hunting equipment for Louise's husband, and Jade's father, who had been their mother until now. Liam turned to Carson, who was raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, I know you said to end it when they became fully women… but I have another idea…" Carson had to admit he was curious. In cases like this Liam proved to come up with some unique and interesting changes. As a fellow changer of fate Carson could appreciate a burst of inspiration altering the course of a transformation. The problem was this was a competition, and there were a few ways to consider things. One was Liam had put in a pitiful effort, and made the bare minimum change. Another was that he had broken the rules. They had agreed to pick each other's targets, and follow their rules and restrictions in each case. Technically, Carson could call this round done, as Liam had reached the stated end by making the Heywoods female, but hadn't done anything about changing their ethnicities. The last was to allow Liam to continue. If Carson stopped this a pair of racists got to go around with little punishment, and he'd never know what Liam was planning. Carson finally relented. Looking between the Heywoods and his friend he said "fine. I want to see what you have in mind." His gaze turned serious, and his tone gained an edge. "But don't think you're off the hook for breaking the rules. You're the one who wanted to prove something today, so I suggest you take my kindness, and stop bending the rules." Liam shrugged. "Sorry, it was all part of an idea, man. We get to see the real fun now…" And as they watched, Louise and Jade headed over to the counter. The clerk smiled at them pleasantly. "Good morning ladies. Is there anything I can do to help you?" Jade gave a cold look at the clerk. She was clearly of Latina descent, but, despite her pleasant nature, Jade had just taken the clerk's skin colour and race at face value. "Yes, you can." she said coldly. "You can help by not serving me, and getting your manager instead…" The clerk looked confused, and a little hurt at this, and went to get her manager, unable to understand what she'd done wrong. As she went into the backroom, her skin lightened up, becoming rather pale. Even her features shifted very subtly. Meanwhile, however, Jade's own skin was darkening. It looked as though she spent a LOT of time sunbathing now. It was almost a caramel colour, but neither Jade nor the clerk seemed to notice. The clerk's Latina features were less noticeable now, whereas Jade almost looked mixed race of white and South American. When the clerk returned with the manager, that was the final straw for both Jade, and Louise. "Not another nigger!" exclaimed a furious Louise. The manager was indeed also a black woman, who looked outraged at once. "What did you call me?" she tried to remain calm, but almost shrieked. But at this, Louise and the manager were subtly changing too. The manager, less so. Her skin ever so slightly changed, as did her features. She was still clearly black though. But as for Louise, the previously pale blonde was darkening up, like Jade… but even darker than her! As she did, her nose slightly widened, and her lips got thicker. She wasn't black… but she now looked mixed race too… But it did nothing to dampen her outburst. "Are there no Americans to serve us? What is it with people like you, probably criminals anyways, taking jobs from good, hard-working, honest whites! I know that my daughter and I are mixed race, but that's still a step above you and your kind!" With that, leaving a shocked manager and her clerk, Louise and Jade stomped off outside. Louise and Jade turned on their heels, stomping straight outside the store, furious at this… injustice. "Never you mind…" Louise growled to Jade. "We'll head to the food court then. See if we can get some proper American food at least!" As Louise and Jade headed off, they scowled and tutted at all the other women surrounding them. Literally any other woman. Even the white women were at least vaguely foreign. And that was their downfall… Jade shook her head disgustingly at a petite Chinese woman. And as she did, they both changed. The Chinese woman suddenly shot up in height. The previously maybe 5'2" girl, was now towering at about 5'10". She definitely towered over Jade, who was 5'7". Or rather she had been. Now she'd apparently lost the 8 inches that the Chinese girl had gained. Now Jade was 4'11". She was a short, mixed-race Latin American/white girl, as opposed to the tall, well-built, white guy she had been. But nobody seemed to notice any different. Only Liam and Carson… Louise avoided the gaze of a rather chubby black woman she was passing. She must have been maybe 160 pounds or so. But as she passed Louise, the black woman began to slim down. And down. And down. She not only became slim… but nicely toned now! She carried herself with more energy, more confidence, and looked overall much fitter now, almost like a professional athlete! Meanwhile, the now mixed race black/white Louise wasn't looking so slim herself now. She wasn't as toned as this other woman had become now. And as a result, she was getting heavier than the other woman had been. She now weighed around 180 pounds… Louise's face now possessed a second chin, as well as fatter cheeks. Her breasts, previously small, pert A-cups, were now heavy and sagging, while her belly was bloated and fat. Her ass pushed out firmly behind her, and her arms and legs were both fat. Her clothes had grown somewhat, but were still too small on her fat body, even if she wasn't obese or anything yet. Louise waddled along beside her shorter daughter, even if they looked less and less alike now. Especially as they passed a Polish woman with brown hair, and a black-haired Italian American woman… who now suddenly had blonde hair. Meanwhile, Louise now had dark brown hair, making her look less strange as a mixed race black and white woman, while Jade now had jet black hair, fitting in further with her increasing Hispanic appearance now. The two headed into the food court, still unaware of any changes. Louise and Jade entered the food court, still unaware of their changes. And this was only the beginning. Louise gave a disgusted look around. "Oh, for fuck's sake… Can't even go into a proper American food court, without seeing all these types around…" Jade shook her head too. "I know what you mean, mom. I bet most of them don't even want American food. Just disgusting foreign food…" As luck would have it, just after Jade made that remark, a woman passed, carrying a burrito, while another larger girl walked past in the other direction, holding a tray of chicken. And at once, their food was suddenly transformed! They were both eating salads now… "I'm gonna go over and grab some Mexican food, okay, mom?" Jade now had a sudden craving for anything Mexican, especially hot, spicy, and gassy. Louise smiled. "Okay, I'll be in the KFC. I'll meet you there when you're done." The two split up, unaware that their racism had become even more hypocritical now. An interesting side effect of the changes… The two splitting up also meant that they would cover more ground… pass more people… and change more… Jade passed a pair of larger Hispanic women, who both now slimmed down, just like the black woman who'd passed Louise earlier had. They had previously just been on their own, but were now on a double date, with their boyfriends, having more confidence since they were slimmer. Jade, on the other hand, had taken a double shot of weight gain from them both. The formerly slim, and now quite short girl, was now short and chunky. No, outright fat now. She'd nearly doubled in weight now, even fatter than her mother, at over 200 pounds. Her face was thicker, and fat now, with thick arms and legs. Her belly rolled under her shirt, and over her jeans somewhat, which were now very tight. But her breasts and ass took a massive gain each too. It seemed that she now possessed a plump hourglass figure, even exaggerated! Her breasts were oddly firm for their size and weight, and looked to be E-cups, maybe even F, while her ass was similar massive. Meanwhile, being in a food court meant that it wasn't long before Louise passed overweight people too. And Jade wasn't the fatter of the two women for long… The already plumped up Louise passed a family of fat Europeans. And suddenly, just like before, the family slimmed down. Granted they weren't quite as toned as the black woman Louise had gained weight from before, or the two Hispanic women Jade had passed, but now at a normal weight. Louise, however, piled on the pounds. Like Jade, she almost doubled in weight too, but her weight had already been more than Jade's. Before long, she was now over 300 pounds! Jade was overweight, but Louise was definitely obese now! The family actually shot her a disgusted look now, fittingly. She was enormous now! And the next changes were both fitting too. Both had their speech changed, just as they went to order… Jade glared at a Russian couple, speaking together in Russian. "Speak damn English when you're in this country…" Jade hissed under her breath, and went to order. Meanwhile, Louise shook her head at a pair of admittedly rather ghetto-ish black girls, speaking in thick accents, with lots of slang and swearing. Suddenly, the Russian couple were speaking perfect English to each other, and the black girls had almost gone from one stereotype, to another, in terms of speech… "And so, as I was previously stating, I informed the promiscuous female that if she did not cease and desist in observing my boyfriend, I would perform bodily harm upon her!" "You were most right to do so!" Her friend agreed. It was bizarre hearing them speak this way! Even their accents had cleared up perfectly too! Jade stepped up to the counter. "Ola, senor!" she smiled at the attractive guy behind the counter. "I have two large bean burrito, and taco, si?" Meanwhile, Louise was at the KFC counter. "Day-am, Ah gotta get meh sum fried chicken, an' fuckin' lots o' it!" She'd become even worse than the black girls were previously. In the Mexican food place, Jade sat down with her food. "Dios mio, me hungry…" she muttered to herself, not noticing anything wrong with that. Likewise, in KFC, Louise had found a table with chairs that creaked, but were otherwise fine with her weight. She just waited for the guy to bring her her food. She didn't want to be stood up too long. Her feet hurt with that… With both women, as they sat there longer and longer with their food, they each found that, strangely, they were both getting hungrier and hungrier. Both had to go back and re-order more food, since they were that hungry. Oddly enough though, the women near them found they were only eating small salads now, having hardly any appetite… And it was notable that Jade seemed to thrive now on a diet of tacos and burritos. Whereas all Louise seemed to eat was chicken… and lots of it! But they were changing in other ways too, throughout their meal, besides just appetite increases. Jade found her skin darkening even further, along with her hair, now raven black. Her once exotic, attractive face now became duller and plainer, with duller eyes, more swollen features, and thicker lips. It seemed she was no longer mixed race. She was out and out Mexican now… Meanwhile, Louise was altering too. Her even skin darkened, until it was a thick chocolate color, with dark brown hair. Her nose widened further, and her lips thickened. It continued until she'd left all traces of white behind too. She was now pure African-American… When the Mexican girl was finally done eating, she got up, and left the food court, but not to meet her mother at KFC any more. Her mother wasn't even in America now. She was back home, in Mexico. The two girls were no longer even related, or even knew each other! And so, Jacinda, as she was now named, simply waddled out of the food court, to head home. On the way, she passed a poor immigrant woman begging in the street. As she passed, the beggar stood up instead, with the hat full of change in front of her, vanishing. Her clothes began to change, until they were less shabby… and now decidedly rather nice. And she was off to her job, never remembering ever being homeless. Meanwhile, Jacinda's clothes became messier, and shabbier, as well as cheaper… until they were just a step above homeless! And the home she was headed to, changed from a nice suburban one, to a cheap, dirty, tiny apartment, in a rough neighbourhood, dominated by several gangs… Louella, on the other hand, was only getting fatter and fatter as she left the food court. The fatter she got, the slower she moved, and the longer it took to pass all these other fat women, who were toning up, and slimming down. And the longer it took her to pass them, the fatter she got… She wasn't even getting a nice hourglass figure like the fat Jacinda had gotten. Instead, Louella was getting a clear apple shape, her belly dominating even the rest of her fat figure. And by the time it was done, Louella was now massively, enormously obese. She must have been nearing 500 pounds! Even walking short distances was enough to tire her out now! Liam was worried now that the two would leave the mall and go their respective ways before he had chance to complete their transformations. But luckily, as this point, Jacinda passed another immigrant with a less-than-minimum-wage job… and it was perfect. At this point though, Louella had just stepped past a group of girls who were walking into a shop, with intention of shoplifting some jewellery. They had picked it up… but then shook their heads, strangely… and walked up to the counter, and paid for it. On the other hand, Louella stopped what she was doing, and waddled into the store, breathing deeply from the now heavy exercise (for her) she was doing. And she began to stuff jewellery down the front of her pants, her concern for the law gone altogether. Meanwhile, Jacinda's already poor, shabby clothing morphed even further. It now looked like a shabby, dirty maid's uniform, because that's what it was! It was even clearly several sizes too small for the short, fat Mexican woman, and pulled tight on her fat body, cutting in slightly, with a lot of flab overflowing. She had inherited the woman's bottom-of-the-ladder job now, who was now in college in Jacinda's place. Jacinda now worked as a maid for a rich white guy. It got even worse. The woman stopped, and headed back past Jacinda, since the now older college student had somewhere else to go. As a result, Jacinda inherited something else! The woman was now losing age, rapidly, becoming younger and younger! Now she fit into high school instead, as she was now 17! Her face looked youthful again, and she'd lost some height and some pounds… On the other hand, Jacinda was GAINING age, up to the woman's previous age! Now, the former teenager was now 15 years older, at 32! Granted, she wasn't that old… but a lifetime of too much sun, too much work, and too hard a life in general made her look much older. Her skin was as weathered as it was dark, a couple of grey hairs could be spotted amongst the jet black, and her body ached considerably… "Ay caramba…" Jacinda mumbled in her deep Mexican accent, holding her back slightly. Her huge breasts didn't help matters. Though sometimes, she caught her employer looking at them appreciatively. She should feel offended… but couldn't help but feel a little turned on. No man had touched her in a long time, and she was longing, somewhat. Even better, what if he wanted to marry her? Then she might finally have a chance of being an American citizen! She waddled off to her job, feeling a little more excited now. Meanwhile, Louella was now being dragged out of the jewellery store, with immense difficulty, by two policemen. "Git yer fuck'n' hands off'r' meh!" Louella shouted in the thickest African-American accent ever. She, like her former daughter/son, had become a deep parody of what they'd previously thought of another race as. The policemen just continued to drag her out, struggling with her bulk. "Ah ain' done nuth'n! Dis is racism! Racism! Ya white pigs are racist!" She shouted, as they pulled her to her car. They stopped… and radioed in that they'd need a larger vehicle for the 500 pound woman… Carson couldn't help but chuckle at the men's fate. He may change people, but he never discriminated. It was part of why Carson had been so adament to learn under his master. He hated people that abused the system, and got away with unfounded hate against others. Now everyone had an equal chance to be changed, but people like Lucas and snake really made it worth everything. "Always the cruel one, aren't you Liam? Can't say that I mind in this case. Those two deserved everything you gave them. I've got to admit that program is a little better than I thought, but I still have something better in mind. Still, it's my turn again, so that will have to wait. What do you have in mind next?" Liam chuckled at his friend. "Oh, you can't say they didn't deserve that? Besides, it was the perfect karmic punishment. They essentially became their own racist interpretations of other races! It couldn't have worked out better!" But Carson did have a point. It was his turn now. What should he have his friend do? He eyed up a comic book store nearby. A small, scrawny guy was reading a comic book there. He was ever the picture of a nerd. He wore thick glasses, his face was covered in glasses, and he practically screamed "lack of social skills!" His name was Sam Weathers, and he was an 18 year old college freshman. He was only partially reading the comic though. He kept looking at a girl stood outside with her friends. Jenna Dawson was absolutely stunning, and she knew it. She was the classic alpha bitch, with long blonde hair, a gorgeous face, perfectly fit body, and lovely C-cup breasts. And she acted like she was better than everyone. There was no way she'd ever be interested in Sam, and he knew it… "Simple, here's what you have to do. Every time Jenna there does anything remotely nerdy now, she'll find hers and Sam's situations are reversing. Make sense?" "Is that going to be it for my challenge? That's a simple curse at best, but if that's what you desire I can make it happen." Carson sighed. It seemed Liam was still looking down on his powers. Either that, or his scope was small minded. Surely Liam was saving the bigger changes for last, right? For the moment Carson knew the ball was in his court, and got to work. A simple incantation, a wave of his wand, and a light enveloped Jenna and Sam, unnoticed by either, or those around them. "Hey look, it's Scrawny Sam." Jessica said to Jenna. Jessica was a tall, curvy girl with medium black hair. It wasn't often that people in school saw Jenna without her right-hand girl around. Jessica rivaled Jenna in looks, but Jenna had dominated their friendship since they were young, injuring her self-reliance, and making her crave Jenna's acceptance. She was happy to follow orders and move out of the way if it meant Jenna was happy with her. "Oh, this is perfect. I was looking for something fun to do." Jenna sneered as she looked at the pathetic boy. He was 18 years old, and still watched cartoons and played board games like a little kid. He didn't even make the effort to improve himself. If he just spent some money on some gel for his hair, some cream for his acne, and actually hit the gym for once in his life, Sam Weathers could actually make something of his life. Oh well. There had to be people to serve as stepping stones on her way to greatness after all, and he brought it all on himself. Sam saw Jenna Dawson and Jessica Parker approaching him. Oh no, had she seen him staring? Maybe things wouldn't be so bad. He just had to be confident, and maybe she could fall for him after all. He stood as tall as he could and tried to look cool. "Hey Jenna. Hey Jessica. What's up?" He greeted. "Shove it nerd. I don't have the patience to listen to lame pick up lines from some virgin whose only experience is with his hand. What are you even reading?" Jenna said as she snatched the comic from Sam's hands. It was some sort of superhero comic. Jenna didn't care enough to know which one. She just cared about hot guys who played them like Robert Downey Jr. or Chris Hemsworth. Real men. As she looked over the comic things started to get blurry. She was having trouble even making out the pictures, let alone the words. Did she forget her contacts? She pulled her glasses out of her purse. They were ugly coke bottle style that her mother had insisted on due to her prescription, and Jenna avoided them whenever possible. She turned her attention back to Sam, but realized her glasses were smudged. She took out a cloth and carefully wiped them down so nothing obstructed her vision. "Now where was I?" She tried to recover. With her glasses on her intimidation fact not completely gone. "What's so great about all of this stuff anyway?" Jenna gestured toward the shop behind Sam, but paused as she looked inside. There were all sorts of games, cards, and assorted books. For some reason she felt drawn to it all. "It's just a lot of fun. The community is full of great people, and there is something here for everyone. They've got games that range in difficulty, tons of things to collect, and there are always tournaments." Sam said, wondering why Jenna seemed to have some enthusiasm in her voice. "Tournaments, huh? Alright, I want in on this. Let's check it out." Jenna said in her usual commanding way. "Really?" Jessica and Sam nearly screamed at the same time. "What the hell Jenna? I don't want to spend my day playing board games with losers." Jessica complained to her friend. "Relax Jessica. If it's a tournament then there has to be a prize involved. We might be able to make some quick cash today. Besides, how sweet will it be to beat these dorks at their own game." Jenna said as she walked into the store. Jessica grumbled a bit, but followed her friend inside along with Sam. The group approached the check in desk where the store's owner Ron Mitchell sat. "Hey there Sam. Who are your friends? I haven't seen them around before." Ron greeted. Sam introduced the girls. "This is Jenna and Jessica. They wanted to check the place out. Jenna was thinking of joining today's tournament." "Was she? I'm a bit surprised. No offense but you're not the usual type. The more the merrier though. Just watch out for ole Sam here. He may seem meek, but he's one of the consistent champs around here." Ron patted Sam on the back as the scrawny boy blushed. "You're embarrassing me Ron." Sam laughed good naturally. "I'm nothing special. Just got lucky in a few close calls is all." "Can I just get signed up already?" Jenna interrupted. She was here to compete, not listen to this guy stroke Sam's ego. Ron sighed, but gave Jenna a pen. Jenna quickly signed her name and checked out today's victims. "Are you going to sign up today Sam?" Ron inquired, offering the pen and sign up sheet. "Sorry Ron. You know I don't do tournament play. I just like to play a little if my friends want, but the tabletop stuff isn't really my scene." Jenna drew one of the first lots for play. Her opponent was another geek from school, Candace Miller. Candace was a plump girl, shorter than most at 4'9" tall. Her swollen gut dominated her figure, and her stature gave her a sticky appearance. In her circle she was often compared to a dwarf, which she took pride in. "Hey Jenna." Candace greeted enthusiastically. "I didn't know you'd be playing." "Just shut up. I'm here to win, not to make friends." Jenna snarled. "Geeze, somebody has a temper. How have you put up with her all day Sam?" Candace asked her friend. Candace and Sam had been close friends since they were young. Their parents thought they'd make a cute couple, and Candace was more than willing, but Sam was hesitant. He did like Candace, but he felt he could do better. "She's just trying to psych you out. That's all." Sam replied. The tournament went on for a couple of hours. At first Jenna made a couple of blunders, but as her competitors watched it was like she flipped a switch. It seemed that out of nowhere she knew every secret of the games, and could think several moves ahead of them. "With that I take your King." Jenna said as her braces flashed for a moment. "Dark Magician attacks, and you're out of life points." Came the end of the next round. As she stood and shook her opponents hand he briefly thought she had been shorter than him before, but he must have been mistaken. "I can't believe I'm at the finals." Jenna cheered. "Thanks for coming to support me Jessica. You're the best." She smiled at her friend. "Than you too Sam." She blushed as she addressed the boy. "Yeah, yeah. Just hurry up and finish already. I'm leaving soon no matter what." Jessica told her friend, though that was a strained relationship in her mind. Jenna had seemed cool as a kid, but she never seemed to grow up. She still played with toys, watched cartoons, and hung out with several dorks. If she wasn't a stacked blonde with long legs she'd be no better than them. Jenna walked away from her friends to prepare for the final round. Jessica turned to Sam and apologized for the day. "I'm so sorry you had to spend the day like this. I know you're not really into this stuff, and she told me it wouldn't take all day." "Hey, no worries. You can just make it up to me later." Sam smirked confidently. Sam took out a comb through his blonde locks. He knew he could have Jessica by the way she was looking at him. She was a total hottie, and would be a fine notch in his belt. He had set out today to make it with Jenna Dawson though. He wasn't sure why he was attracted to the girl. Jenna was exceptionally tall, towering over most at 6'4". She had some acne, and her glasses made her look like a nerd. The braces didn't do much to help. She even dressed like a dork, clad in a pleated skirt and a blouse with a white and black checkerboard pattern. She had a killer rack, and legs that went for days though. She may not be the best trophy, but she'd be his. Jenna was thrilled that Sam was spending so much time with her. He had complimented her throughout the day, and given her encouragement during the assorted games of the tournament, even if he didn't really know what he was talking about. His chiseled jaw and muscles more than made up for it though. Jenna sat down for the last game, a match of pokemon trading cards with decks prepared by the store. She had a tough time with I, but lured her opponent, Ron himself, into her trap. She was ecstatic to take the win with a Charizard. He had been her favorite ever since the first generation. "Well, shoot. You really got me that time Jennifer. I didn't expect that combo." Ron laughed. "It was a close one. If I didn't have the type advantage over your Meganium, I'd have been a goner." Jennifer shook Ron's hand. "You definitely earned the top prize this time. I'm proud to award you with a $50 credit for anything in the store." Ron said as he handed over a gift card. Jennifer quickly accepted her prize and ran over to her best friend Candace to celebrate. "Can you believe it? $50 for anything. That's the best prize I've ever gotten." Jennifer cheered. "What are you going to use it on?" Candace inquired, having to look up at the much taller girl. Their friends often joked that they were like Gimli and Legolas. Candace was short and squat like a dwarf, and Jennifer was tall and willowy like an elf. It made for an interesting sight to see them next to each other, but they accepted who they were. "I' don't know. There are some manga I've been wanting to read. Maybe I could pick up the new Final Fantasy though. Or we could get the new expansion to D&D." Jennifer gushed as she scanned the store. She stopped as she noticed Sam Weathers and Jessica Rizzoli heading out of the shop. Why had they been here? She couldn't help but swoon over the quarterback. He had perfect tan skin, and rippling muscle. His smile showed perfect white teeth that sparkled in the light. Jennifer could also tell from the bulge below his waistline that he had a very impressive package. There was no way he'd be interested in a girl like her though. "Why did we even go in there?" Sam grumbled to his girlfriend. It was only natural that the head cheerleader be dating the quarterback after all. "I told you. My little cousin is into this shit, and I had to look for a birthday present. Mom threatened to take my keys if I didn't" Jessica replied. "Just look at these freaks. Can you believe they spend their lives like this?" Jessica berated the people in the store. Sam looked back at the other customers. The one that stood out the most to him was a ridiculously tall girl with mousy brownish blonde hair. Her arms were gangly and awkward. Her legs were spindly and lacked tone, like she never strained herself. Her plain looks were offset with laughable glasses. What was worse was that she had no curves. She was flat chested, and her hips barely made an impression. Sam felt like he had seen her before, but couldn't be bothered to remember her name. "Let's just get out of here. You still have to make it up to me." He said with a wink and slap of Jessica's pert ass.
  12. Jan's Trip to Africa by mdDubya (race change, body mod) Jan's long time boyfriend and now fiancé was an avid hunter. And from the time they had met and begun dating she had known he dreamed of going to Africa to hunt on a safari. In spite of the fact that Dave made pretty good money, there was no way he was ever going to save up enough to fund his dream trip and hunt. But when a elderly neighbor she had been helping care for passed away and left her a sizable amount of money, she saw the opportunity to finance it. So she began to make the necessary arrangements behind Dave's back thinking it would be great if she could surprise him. Dave already had a passport from a past business trip to South America, so she arranged for his time off from work, booked the flights, and even procured the guides and accommodations. And therein lies the dilemma, not thinking about the possibility of unscrupulous people, Jan simply chose due to price not reputation. Finally a couple of days before they were scheduled to depart she relented and told him what she was packing for. Needless to say Dave was elated initially. But the more he thought about it he began to worry. As much as he loved and adored her, Jan wasn't exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer. She was your stereotypical beautiful blond, great to look at, awesome to make love to, but borderline dumb as a rock at times. But her looks did make up for a lot, 5'5", 125 lbs, 34D-24-36, topped off with a gorgeous face and mid-back length thick blond hair with just enough wave to it to hold a curl if desired. Dave quickly realized there was no way to double check her arrangements without hurting her feelings, and most likely royally pissing her off, so he decided to hope for the best and go along with them. Their initial flight was on Delta, so far so good, and when they landed in Africa it was in a major city. But when they began trying to find their connecting flight to deliver them to the safari Dave began to worry. They were finally led to a small hanger just off the airport property. The building was rather dilapidated looking, and when they saw the bush plane both of their hearts sank. The plane looked even worse than the building. To make matters worse the people present barely spoke English. But after showing their paperwork it seemed it was understood where Jan and Dave where supposed to be dropped off. The take-off was terrifying, for what seemed like an eternity the plane coughed and struggled to get airborne, and once it was nobody seemed sure it could stay that way. The pilot was constantly having to fiddle with the controls to keep the engine running even semi smoothly. Eventually Dave made himself quit watching the pilot and look out the windows of the plane. The view was amazing, but it was obvious they were heading farther and farther away from civilization. Most of the safaris Dave was aware of and had looked into weren't really that far from a city. Mainly due to the civil unrest and simple lack of communication, they generally tried to stay as close to the major cities as possible. But it was obvious they were not, it had been hours since they had seen anything other than raw untamed wilderness and Dave began to wonder how long the plane could fly on a load of fuel. Apparently he was psychic because soon the engine began sputtering, only this time no amount of adjustments by the pilot was going to correct it, they were out of fuel. Jan and Dave quickly buckled in and braced themselves as the plane nosed down towards the ground. An experienced pilot would know how to glide in for a unpowered landing, but the panic on his face confirmed that their pilot had no idea what to do in this situation. The landing gear snagged on some brush as they came in hot and heavy and the plane instantly tilted up onto it's nose and began to disintegrate. When Jan came too she did a quick inventory of her body, somehow she had survived virtually unscathed. She was still strapped into her seat, and still in what was left of the plane. The pilot was obviously dead though, and where was Dave? As her head slowly cleared she removed her seatbelt and picked her way out of the wreckage. Dusk was quickly approaching as she began to search for him. After checking all the pieces of wreckage she could find, she finally located him. His seat had been ripped loose from the plane upon impact and he had been thrown over 25 yards, still strapped in. When she reached him he was still unconscious and obviously in a bad way. His right leg was bent in a unnatural way due to a compound fracture. One end of the bone had punctured the skin and he was bleeding badly. Finally she was able to rouse him and help him unbuckle the seatbelt. Between the two of them they were able to get his leg straightened out as much as possible, and with Dave instructing her Jan applied a make-shift compound bandage to the open wound to slow the bleeding. They were actually on a high spot of the otherwise flat terrain, so a quick survey told them they were isolated and completely alone. Again with Dave directing and instructing her, Jan gathered up what wood she could find along with the of the debris from the plane and built a fire. As they huddled together beside the fire both began to wonder what the future held for them? Somewhere around 3am they both received their answer. A nearby tribe of natives had seen their fire and come to investigate. Dave had passed out earlier, and in spite of having been told by him to stay awake, (in case of marauding wild animals) Jan had dozed off also. The natives presence had woken Dave initially, and he shook Jan to get her attention. It was soon apparent that neither side could understand the other, but Dave's injuries and the plane wreckage nearby made it obvious what had happened. The natives rigged up a stretcher of sorts and soon they were taking them back to their village. Once there Dave was taken to what they later realized was the medicine man's hut. Jan was initially allowed in, but once Dave's injury was diagnosed she was led back out. After a few minutes she heard Dave's blood curdling screams as his leg was reset as best as could be done under the primitive conditions. At this point, Jan began to take in her surroundings. The village was made up of many grass and mud huts, all surrounding a huge fire-pit in the center. Their rescuers were obviously a native and primitive African tribe. The men and women both were naked from the waist up, and all the men wore was a rather small loin cloth of sorts. The women on the other hand, wore what appeared to be a grass skirt. The women also all had bald heads. Not just stubble, but completely smooth and shiny. The members of this tribe were all very dark skinned, around the color of dark chocolate. It seemed any female over the age of 12 or 13 had a lip plate inserted inside of a slit behind their bottom lip. The plates got larger as the wearer aged apparently. The women also had very stretched out earlobes, some of them actually dangling down to their shoulders, and pierced nipples for goodness sake. As much as she wanted to be with Dave, the tribal women were having none of that. Instead they took her to another hut and through hand gestures and attempts at communicating verbally they let her know this was where she would be sleeping. Exhaustion took over and she soon fell fast asleep. But just a few hours later she awoken by several women. As she stood they began to lead her to a nearby stream. There she was undressed and her minor cuts and scrapes were cleaned as she was bathed. As they were tending to her Jan began to notice their teeth. All of them seemed to have very small and blackened teeth. She also began to take notice of how stretched out and saggy their breast were. It was obvious they had never worn a bra, but apparently the thick gold rings they wore through their nipples were quite heavy? Climbing out of the stream once her bath was over Jan looked for her clothes. They were no where to be seen, instead she was given a grass skirt to wear just like the other women. She was mortified to have to walk around topless, but it seemed she had no choice in the matter? Later that morning she was finally allowed inside the hut where Dave was to check on him. He wasn't doing anywhere near as well as she had hoped. He didn't seem to be in any pain somehow, but it was plain to see he was very feverish and uncomfortable. He was drifting in and out of consciousness constantly. She couldn't even tell if he recognized her? In all actuality he had, and had wondered why she was dressed as she was, but he had been unable to say anything due to his mental state. Three days later Dave's condition had not improved, and Jan was becoming distraught. What was to become of them, what if Dave died? What if they were never found? In her haste to plan the trip and keep it a secret from Dave, she had neglected to actually tell anyone where they were going. Since no one knew where they were, how could they find them? They wouldn't even know where to begin looking. All this combined had Jan a nervous wreck in no time. Seeing her distress, the women of the tribe gave her what looked like a root of some sorts to chew on. Through gestures Jan finally deduced it would calm her nerves, so she put it in her mouth and began to chew it. She was just about to spit it out, it tasted extremely bitter, but just before she did it hit her. Wow, it was like the best high she had ever experienced. All her troubles and worries faded away as she continued to gnaw on it. The days passed much quicker and easier thanks to the root she was chewing on constantly, and soon Jan fell into a routine of sorts. Every day she would go with the other women of the village to bathe in the stream, and then as they gathered various fruits and grains. After a few days it even felt natural to be topless all the time. She would help them prepare and cook the meals of the day, and even helped care for the children of the village. The days turned into weeks as she became more and more accepted into the village, and due to the psychotropic properties of the root she was feeling more and more a part of it. Everyday she would visit Dave, but he never seemed to be improving. Even to a lay person it was obvious his leg was infected, and badly so. Thanks to the herbal remedies of the medicine man/witch doctor, gangrene wasn't setting in, but the infection just wouldn't go away. As a result, he was still drifting in and out of consciousness, and remained too weak to speak. Had he been able to, he no doubt would have expressed to Jan his concerns over her diminishing appearance. The lack of shampoo or soap was beginning to show on her beautiful hair. It was looking much duller and becoming a tangled mess from its lack of brushing. Then there was her sensational smile and what was happening to it. What neither of them knew though, was that between Dave's inability to speak, and Jan's rather easy compliance to the separate sleeping arrangements, coupled with the fact that both of them were blond haired, it was assumed by the members of the village that they were brother and sister. As the weeks continued to pass, Jan found herself learning how to communicate with the others. Their language wasn't that elaborate, so by watching their gestures as they spoke, she soon was learning some of the appropriate words. Finally even Jan knew her hair was a mess, and she tried express this to the other women. She did succeed in getting her point across, but sadly did not completely understand their remedy. She was given a extra large piece of the root to chew on, and once it had kicked in she was told to sit in the middle of the hut. As she sat on the dirt floor, two women knelt on either side of her and began rubbing something into her scalp. It tingled at first, and in no time her scalp was numb. In unison the two flanking women grabbed and handful of Jan's blond hair and yanked it out by the roots. Thanks to the numbing of her scalp it didn't hurt that much, and as soon as they would pull a clump of hair out they would rub the substance into the bare spot relieving any pain there was. Unfortunately it was also completely killing off the hair roots at the same time. Due to the effects of the root/drug, Jan wasn't all that alarmed over losing her hair, and after about 45 minutes all her formerly gorgeous blond locks lay strewn across the floor, and her entire head was as bald as all the other women in the tribe. It seemed the women of the village took Jan's willingness for them to remove her hair as indication that she wished to join their village and tribe. Because as Jan sat there in her state of stupor, they summoned the medicine man and began making the arrangements. A hole punch of sorts was brought in, and after rubbing the numbing herb onto her ears and nipples, the piercings in her ears were enlarged to much larger and large heavy hoops were suspended from them and sealed shut. Then the same procedure was repeated on her nipples, and at this point Jan realized just how heavy the nipple rings worn by the tribes women actually were. She understood now why their breast hung so far down, each ring felt as if it weighed 5 pounds suspended from her nipples. As she sat there in a state of shock, her bottom lip was slit open and a lip plate was inserted after the numbing agent had taken effect. Finally they began covering Jan from head to toe, even her palms and the soles of her feet, with what looked and felt like mud. Once it was dry they led her to the stream to wash it off. But when she stepped into the water and began scrubbing, the mud came off, but not the color. Her skin was much darker, much darker. But before it sunk in they pulled her from the water and were slathering her down with it again, only this time they avoided her palms and the soles of her feet. After a while longer she was again placed into the stream, and when she climbed out this time she was as dark as the other members of the tribe, even darker than some. When she looked at the palms of her hands she saw that they were lighter, giving her the coloring of a true black person. As she numbly walked back to the village with them she saw the enormous bonfire burning, and as they got even closer she saw the chair/table beside it. She instinctively knew she was supposed to sit in it, and soon found herself strapped to it, secured with vines, her dark brown legs splayed out to the sides and her grass skirt bunched up around her waist. At this point she found out what the men of the tribe had been hiding under those loin cloths. The Chief/medicine man stepped up in front of her first and removed his loin cloth, exposing the biggest, blackest cock Jan had ever seen. Thankfully the numbing herb was rubbed onto her pussy because even with it she felt as if he was splitting her in two as he roughly entered her tight pussy. Once the Chief was finished, one by one the men and older boys of the village stepped up and fucked her. Each of them possessing enormous cocks, and depositing an enormous load of cum deep inside her. The train went on into the night, then the morning. The men would fuck her, go do whatever, then return when it was their turn again. This went on for three full days until Jan's mind snapped, she was totally delirious by the time they had finished, her pussy was raw and opened up to the size of a coffee can by the time they were done. Finally she was untied from the chair and led back to her hut where she collapsed from shear exhaustion. After sleeping the better part of 24 hours straight she finally woke up, only to find herself clear minded for the first time in weeks. She also found herself bald, pierced, black, and possessing the sorest most stretched out pussy she could even imagine. Thank god they had left some root beside her grass mat, she quickly popped a piece into her mouth and soon was feeling that delightful sense of calm it always produced. Once her emotions had settled a little from the root she went to check on Dave. As she began walking towards the hut he was in she felt the large and very heavy rings hanging from her nipples and earlobes. Damn they were heavy, it felt as if they were pulling her tits down to her waist and her earlobes were being ripped from her ears. In fact, due to having gone braless for the better part of two months already, her breast weight from being D cups, and the added weight of the heavy gold rings, they were indeed hanging to her navel now. Her earlobes were already being stretched, the punched out holes becoming elongated and permanently misshapen. She also noticed an odd sensation in her pussy. Having lost all sense of modesty since arriving, she stopped and lifted up her grass skirt and was shocked to see and feel her pussy lips hanging down from her stretched out gaping pussy. All those huge cocks had really done a number on her. As she walked into the hut were Dave was he heard her and stirred slightly, raising his head up to see who it was. He really was hoping Jan would come see him today, but instead it was just another of the women of the village. For a brief second he thought she looked vaguely familiar in the face, but no, it was just another black, bald woman from the tribe, same stretched out earlobes, same ugly sagging titties, same elongated pierced nipples, lip plate poking out from her bottom lip,, the same blackened nubby teeth, even the same slightly bow legged walk they all had. Thinking it wasn't Jan, he slumped back down onto the mat he was laying on. Just his luck, he was finally feeling better and Jan was nowhere to be seen. Jan's shoulders sagged when she saw Dave collapse back down onto the mat. Damn she needed some comfort and consoling from him after all she had been through. Thinking he had passed back out she turned to exit the hut. But as she did so Dave sat back up and saw the vague outline of the tattoo Jan had on her lower back. He could barely see it showing through the dark brown skin but he was positive it had to be Jan. Calling out her name he was at first relieved when she spun back around, but then he was horrified at what he saw once she was facing him. Standing before him was a black, bald version of the love of his life. How could this be Jan? The woman before him was black, bald headed, she was wearing a lip plate just like the native women who had been caring for him. She had the same stretched out earlobes, the same disgusting sagging breast with the pierced nipples, fuck, she even had the same grotesque rotten looking black teeth they all seemed to have. But as he stared at the woman her face lit up and Jan's sweet voice came from her. Well, it sounded like Jan for the most part, the lip plate was effecting her speech quite a bit, but it was definitely Jan's voice. The shock of it all was more than he could bear in his weakened state and he passed back out cold. Jan knew he had recognized her, but mistakenly took him passing out from shock as not being interested in her anymore. And even though Dave was feeling somewhat better, he was still unable to get around and would still occasionally drift in and out of consciousness. During her rare moments of lucidness Jan could see why Dave wouldn't be interested in her anymore, but under the effects of the root she chewed constantly she was furious over it, and determined to show him up. This she deduced could be best realized by completely and totally becoming a member of the tribe in every way. And that meant being available to any and all males of the tribe at any given time. She had realized that the tribe lived more along the lines of the hippy communes of the sixties than in a more traditional marriage based society. So from that moment on any time a male showed any interest in her she would make it obvious she was available. As a result Jan quickly became a very popular member of the tribe, with the men anyway. She was getting fucked numerous times a day, and never slept alone from that point on. The constant assault by the huge cocks on her already stretched out cunt naturally finished it off. Soon she was able to accommodate the largest of the cocks in the tribe without any discomfort at all. Of course that also meant that Dave's cock, while average sized back home in America, would forever seem miniscule to her now cavernous cunt. And while Jan was now super popular with the male half of the tribe, she was quickly becoming hated by the female half. And seeing as how revenge is a universal emotion, they soon began hatching plans to diminish her newfound popularity among the men. With limited resources at hand they went with what was available to them, primarily, food. Jan's meal portions were increased incrementally so as not be noticed or arouse suspicion. But between the effects of the root, and Jan's naivety, they soon had her eating twice as much as before. And with no gym to work off the added calories she soon began to put on weight. Before long there was a extra jiggle here and there when she'd walk. Her already large heavy breast increased in size and weight, which naturally caused them to sag even farther down onto her blossoming belly. When she'd walk they were now flopping and slapping noisily together and against her chest. Her legs and arms began to thicken and quiver with each movement. Her thighs soon rubbed together and her chiseled facial features were softening as her face rounded out. But men being men, she was still getting fucked often in spite of becoming a plumper. And as a result her monthly friend finally failed to visit. She was pregnant by one of the tribal members. One of the traditions of the tribe was that as a rite of passage, once a woman became pregnant she was marked as a sign of honor and prestige. This was done by making small slits in the skin and rubbing a mixture of oils into the would that would cause raised bumps to be formed. Elaborate patterns would be formed covering the breast and shoulders and back. It took several weeks to finish Jan's design, but once finished Jan's upper body, upper arms, and most of her back were permanently scarred for life. Especially her formerly beautiful breast. They were now almost completely covered with the scarification bump patter, and hanging pendulously down onto her swelling belly.
  13. Spammer by Coyote and vladimirpootis [Slob, Race, Nerd, WG] It's been a while since I posted anything, so I figure that could do for some changing! Over the past… Few months, I think, Coyote and I have been collaborating/RPing to create the mammoth of a story you see below! It's about a nice American girl suddenly finding herself kidnapped and whisked away to the east, where she's given nothing more than a computer and what lies outside her locked window to keep her company. What follows is a slow, gradual descent into apathy and slovenliness, brought on both by her own mind and the drugs she's unknowingly pumping herself with with every increasingly-hurried bite she eats, until she's a slovenly Chinese girl with a bitter hatred toward what was once her home, finding more of a sense of kinship with her computer and fellow 'sisters' than she ever had in the west that'd grown so alien to her. A family story! It'll be broken up into several posts, as it's almost a novel in length. Though, do trust me, you won't be waiting long for them. ————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————— Dripping. That was the first sound that made itself known as the young woman slowly came to, her consciousness swimming hazily about as whatever drug she was dosed with finally began the process of wearing off. The second noise was her own pulse, more specifically the thumping noise that seemed to pound at her eardrums and about her temples. It felt like she had a nightmare of a hangover. What happened last night anyway? The memory was not quite there, everything still slowly coming back together, but not quite just yet. What was clear, however, was that Marisse was not in her bedroom. The rhythmic dripping coming from the distance was more than enough to signal that. Sitting up she found that she was sleeping on a nice, if not somewhat low end full sized bed, the bed spread ornate and rather dated in its look. Glancing around it seemed the motif held throughout. White washed walls with busy looking portraits and quaint landscape pieces hung throughout only further dated the room, not to mention the turquoise drapes dangling from the polished bronze rods above the single window on the room. A hotel room. It had to be a hotel room. But why? Aside from the wall furnishings and the bed besides the window, which seemed to be leaking slightly about the frame the more she looked at it, rain gently pouring outside, there was only a futon couch and what looked to be an office desk with a rather fancy laptop on it. The overhead lamp beside it had been left on, leaving it in a spotlight of sorts, as if asking to be used in spite of it obviously not being her own. But just as she started for it, a loud knock came from the door. “Jiāofù!” A voice from the other end said. Before she could respond she heard whomever was on the other side of the door drop something, followed by heavy footsteps that trailed off into the silence after a moment. It seemed the more Marisse came to, the more confusing the situation became. Marisse wasn’t dry - she drank a little every now and then, but never to excess. Never to the point of blacking out, which was the first conclusion her mind jumped to. If she’d done that, maybe gotten a tattoo or something, and somehow ended up in a hotel, that’d be fine with her - it was easily escaped, and any mistakes she’d made were easily forgiven or forgotten. Except the tattoo, she figured. She looked down for a moment to try and see any fresh bandages marking any new… Additions to herself, but found only the same smooth, largely unblemished flesh she was used to seeing… And only that. She was completely nude. Her cheeks flushed red at this discovery, not because she was particularly embarrassed, nobody was looking, but because she hoped she didn’t strip in front of anybody before getting into this room. Or after, for that matter. Somehow, she doubted this was the case. Her mouth was dry and in it was an odd, chemical taste, like that of anaesthetic… Had she been knocked out? Her dry lips smacked as she stared back up at the unfamiliar ceiling, fear tangible within her, twisting her empty stomach into a knot while she just sat still on the bed. It wasn’t just that the room was unfamiliar that scared her - it was something else. Like she didn’t belong there. Her slim legs swung over the edge of the bed and tentatively made landfall on the floor, as if wary that something painful was awaiting them down there. She rose slowly, one hand supporting herself on the bed and the other held against her head, weaving through her soft, blonde locks. Unstyled as her hair was, it simply hung down to her chin. Headrush blinded and dizzied her, stalling her for just a second before she shoved herself off from the bed, heel-toeing like a drunk as she reoriented herself, walking in a quick circle. Shaking her head to clear the last few cobwebs from it, rubbing her eyes to clear them too, she moved over to the window, peering out to see if she can make out any familiar scenery. The fear of being drugged made her heart flutter. She was so careful about such things. Could it have been a roofie? No, she would have held her drink the entire time, right? For a moment Marisse became convinced she had been raped but…the room didn’t smell like she had any sex in it. If anything the place had the very faint smell of mildew, like an underlying cheapness that seemed to be a consistent theme for this place so far. Looking out of the window she felt her stomach drop. The view was not only completely unfamiliar, but completely foreign too. Outside a thick fog had rolled in with the rain, but what she did see was alarming. Billboards, neon signs, and cramped building structures hindered what view she did see. The buildings outside jutted high and were packed tightly together, interwoven with iron fire escapes, clothing, telephone, and cable lines running to and fro, as well as the occasional plastic bag caught on one thing or another. The closest building had to be only 10 feet from the window, obscuring half of the view down what looked to be a road, or was it an alley? On the various signs she could make out, the characters looked like they were in Chinese or Japanese, or some Asian language, she really did not know. Keep calm, maybe this was just the heart of Chinatown. Part of Marisse knew it was not Chinatown. Looking around she did not see a suitcase either. Was she just dropped off here with just the clothes on her back? If so where were even those? The slightly stained carpeted floor was largely barren. How was she supposed to leave? There was no phone in the room either. However, by the front door was an old fashioned intercom with two grimy, off white buttons to push, but she had no idea which did what. Besides, what would she even say, and if anyone came up how would she- The door! Someone had said something at the door and dropped something from the sounds of it, maybe it was her clothes! But, glancing down at her nude form…She would have to be quick. Stepping towards the door the floor beneath her creaked loudly and somewhat alarmingly, as if it was not made for heavy traffic, or light traffic in this case. The door had a cheap deadbolt but that was about it. Sliding that off to the side she creaked the door open enough to see that no one was standing by, but did see there was a plastic bag at the foot of the door. Grabbing it she brought it back in. Inside the bag were several paper cartons of what smelled to be Chinese food, at least she thought it was. There was a pack of cigarettes, some bottles of pills, what looked to be vodka, a few bottles of water, and what looked to be a computer headset. She closed the door and turned back towards the room and made her way to the desk, her stomach gurgling ominously at the smell of that food. It seemed that the walls were somewhat thin. Marisse could hear the muffled murmuring of hushed voices on either side of the small room. In a way, it was unsettling, almost as if she was being watched. While she was in this room alone, with such thin walls it was not like she really had total privacy at least. With only a bed, a desk, a window, and a bathroom, it was not like there was much to do while she ate. But as she laid everything out on the desk she noticed there was a small handwritten note in the bag. Unfolding it, it read: "Dear Marisse, Welcome to your new home for the time being. We apologize for any inconvenience that you might experience over the coming days during your transition to your new life working for JadeTech Services.We feel that, in time, you will come to love your new allotment we have generously given to you at no small expense. The rules are simple. You will work six days a week from here in your home using the computer provided. Follow the directions on the computer accordingly and you should be fine. You may not leave this building for any reason whatsoever. Attempting to leave the premises, inform the authorities or Embassy of your whereabouts or reveal your situation in any way, shape, or form to any individual in person, online, or other type of communication will be met with swift consequences to ensure that these violations are not repeated. We are a kind cooperation Marisse, if you do as you are told, you will live a happy life here. If you do not, we will work with you until you do. Thank you for your patience and understanding in this matter, The signature was in those Chinese characters again. There was actually a whole additional page, but it too was written in what likely was Chinese. Inconvenience? Inconvenience? She’d been taken from her home, her country, shipped all the way to the ass-end of Asia, given some sort of weird job, and worst of all… They were making her eat take-out! Each mouthful of food she took was labored, though she tried to make it as mercifully quick as possible - she abhorred fast food. Like drinking, it wasn’t that she never indulged from time to time, but she always liked to maintain a healthy lifestyle and diet - enough to have earned her a half-decent tone of athleticism. Only in relative emergencies, like when she was taking a road trip or when she’d given blood, did she even consider going to a place that sold such… Greasy, processed mockeries of food. Slurping a noodle out of the box, she grimaces. It did taste good, but she knew better. Though she knew she had plenty of ongoing mysteries that were due to be solved, the first problem she wanted to take care of was her stomach. The ‘care package’ she brought in had a few boxes in it, and being used to a spartan diet, she only needed to eat one. Of course, all it came with were chopsticks. Seeing as she never really had any desire to go to Asia, or any stateside restaurant where using them was an absolute necessity, she never quite picked up how to use them. Using her quite limited skills, she simply used them to lift bunches of coiled-up noodles a mere inch out of the box before slurping them up, the noisome and messy process splattering her mouth with sauce… Sauce she was delighted to dab up with the supplied napkins rather than lap off of herself. It was an embarrassment to have to resort to eating this, but the only other option seemed to be to starve. As she ate, her mind wandered to her predicament - since she’d awoken, it was like she’d been staring at a puzzle with only its sides completed. She was in a room she never remembered entering, and that’s all she knew. Pieces had begun to fall into her lap one by one, a torrent starting as soon as she dared look out the window. It was clear now that she had been kidnapped, though not by a lecherous bozo at some dive bar like she’d suspected. “Guess I graduated from roofies to chloroform.” she muttered bitterly, grimacing. Judging by the letters that looked like malformed pieces of Chex Mix outside her window, she’d been spirited away to some country in Asia. For all she knew, it could’ve been anywhere northwest of India. She didn’t have a good eye for the different symbols the local… Well, relatively local languages used, nor a good ear for the sound of them, so where she was in particular was anyone’s guess. It wasn’t just that she’d been kidnapped, she’d been forcefully drafted into some sort of… Agency. JadeTech. Maybe she was in China? They were big on Jade, right…? She didn’t know. What she did know is that she wanted nothing to do with this ‘JadeTech’. For all she knew, they were some sort of kidnapping organization, because that’s all she’d seen from them so far. Either that, or they just had harsh methods of recruitment. Marisse didn’t know what was worse - the fact of the former possibility, or the implications of the latter. By the time she’d had her fill, the box was nearly empty, and she wasn’t about to dive into those last few noodles that were resting at the bottom. Pushing it aside on the desk, she picks up the letter again, reading over the second paragraph of the letter - the warning. They didn’t want her to run? Of course they didn’t. They expected her to, and threatening her would be the obvious deterrent. With a sneer, she slapped the paper back on the desk and stood up, grabbing one of the bottles of water. Another blush spread across her cheeks when she’d looked down to herself, her body so… Exposed, and with what she intended to to, to so many other people… She shut her eyes for a moment, looking up when she opened them again. She wouldn’t go to the police… They’d come to her. Seeing a screaming, naked woman run out into the open oughta turn some heads, right? Taking a quick drink of the water before setting it down, she moves to the door, preparing herself to run. Perhaps it was the haze of sleep that still slightly marred her sobriety, but her actions bled into a single blur as soon as she’d begun her great escape - open door, run down hallway, begin screaming. She didn’t waste even an attosecond looking at anything along the hallway - all she needed to look at was the other end, whichever one held her escape route. The first thing that seemed to work in her favor, or perhaps send alarms off had she known better, was that the door was still unlocked. There was no guard outside either. It was just a room, in a hallway, in a building in some land she did not recognize. She could do this, just one foot in front of the other and away she’d go. As she went bolting down the hallway, feeling the breeze against her nipples and exposed vagina, not something she was used to at that, she saw the stairway at the end of the hall was also unguarded. Her feet thudded against the floor loudly, but no one came. If anything every door in that place was dead silent now. Flying towards the stairs she was greeted with the number 6. 6th floor? It had to be. She ran down the stairs, jumping the last two or three per flight as she tried to get out before anyone would notice. It was too good to be true…no, she was lucking out! She had called their bluff and they had folded. By the time she approached the first floor she had to stop from accidentally going too far, as it looked like there were multiple floors further below, each looking grimier than the last. No thanks. The first floor was also just a hallway,but this one had a T intersection that lead to a front door. A grin broke across her face as she opened her mouth to start screaming for help. Marisse could taste that chemical aftertaste underneath whatever sauce was in that food. It would not be surprising if the vodka and water had similar properties as well. Maybe it was just really cheap? It had all settled heavily in her stomach and made her feel bloated from the saltiness of the cheap cuisine. But she could not let something so trivial stop her now, not yet. As she neared the door however, she heard a faint hissing noise. Glancing up her eyes widened as she saw thick pinkish gas roll out from vents in the ceiling, quickly rolling over the room. She could still make it, she just had to hold…hold…just hold… And then darkness. Anonymous 02/03/17 (Fri) 03:49:31 No.1767 It was hard to tell exactly how long she had been out of it. But when she woke up the sun was already setting. Was it even the same day? How would she know? Her head was killing her now. If yesterday was just the worst hangover she had ever experienced, today was something far beyond that. It was almost to the point where her head felt like it was physically taking damage.As her wits slowly came back to her and she remembered the gas, Marisse could not help but worry that the stuff might be causing her brain damage of some kind given her headache. Rain pattered against the window off to the side of the room. Wait, what? Sitting up she looked over towards the window. Indeed, it had moved. Now the window was facing directly towards the window of another building only feet away, the other covered with cheap white curtains. Looking around she saw that the whole room as cheaper. This time the walls were covered in wallpaper that was slightly peeling about the edges, yellowed with mildew damage in spots. Had she looked more closely she would have noticed how the view outside was notably lower as well. However it was hard think about such things through her headache. Whatever she decided to do she needed to start thinking about it n- “Jiāofù!” There was a pound at the door followed by the crinkling of plastic again and then footsteps leading away. At the sound of that voice her stomach gurgled and a pang of hunger ran through her body. Sitting up in bed it became clear that she was naked still, she could feel the sheets rubbing over her naked form rather acutely, almost sensuously. Her heart fluttered again, but this time in arousal. Was whatever they had knocked her out with messing with her head? This was not the time to be thinking about how she was completely exposed for anyone to see if they should come…in. She had to think the perverse thought from her mind. As she stood up she heard several bones pop in her back, hips, and neck, as if they had been cramped while she was out. However, during the time she had spent under her bones had actually compacted slightly, trimming a couple of inches from her height. Similar changes to her bone structure had already started to take hold of her form. Her cheekbones had expanded slightly, as well as her brow having thickened slightly. Similarly her nose had widened as well, her nostrils flattened slightly while flaring to either side more, giving her a definitive Mongolian influence in her visage. Likewise her skin seemed more tan than before as well, but where her previous experience with tanning had been one of merely darkening her skin, her current fleshtone had a slightly more brown hue, giving it a yellow tint overall over her former pink. Her blonde hair swished about, dark roots now showing about the base of her scalp, nearly pitch in color. What Marisse did not know what indeed, whatever had been given to her was affecting her brain as well as her body. Through means best left unexplained, her lingual center was starting to shift, information forming that was not there before. While it was just the flickers of the beginning, Marrise found herself more comfortable around Chinese Kanji, her brain starting to pick up on symbol patterns and the like. Unfortunately, these changes were not all positive, but rather in exchange, the first beginnings of her native language starting to deteriorate in the wake of her acquired information. “Aaaaaw, god damn it, god damn it god damn it…!” she groaned out, groggy and ragged. Hunger, despair, rage, and self-hate boiled and frothed within her, almost forcing her to gag, her hands balling into fists and beating the cheap, creaking mattress below her. “Fuck me! Fuck! Me!” she shouted, quickly silencing herself - she didn’t want to send any mixed messages - she was being self-deprecating, not slutty. “Oh, what’s the difference? Nobody can fucking understand me, anyway.” She was pissed - at JadeTech, and at herself. While she still had her wits about her, for as much as they shone through the pain that was threatening to scatter her thoughts, she’d blown her chance at escape. “All because I couldn’t fucking hold my breath.” she spits. Her legs once more swung around to the side of the mattress, kicking the sheets off of her as well. As the rest of her body repositioned, it felt like she was experiencing a bit of lag-time - like her head was a few seconds behind her body. Headrush didn’t wait for her to get up this time, instead coming as soon as she sat up on the corner of the mattress, facing the door and cradling her hands in her head. “I fucked up… They don’t need guards, they… They wired the place with something.” Looking up and around, she grimaced. “And then they moved me, so I couldn’t learn what they did to the last place. Assholes.” Her body sounded like a strand of firecrackers as she got up, joints popping with every subtle movement and leaving behind small, warm centers of pleasure, lasting only a scant moment. Propping herself against the wall, feeling the wallpaper shift beneath her fingers, her eyes were still down - on herself. How dark her skin had gotten wasn’t something she was about to miss… Nor was it something she’d properly pick up on. “Shitty lighting.” she mumbles, looking up at the yellowish ceiling. “Shitty ceiling. Shitty walls, shitty bed, shitty place. Shitty people.” she rants, if only to hear something other than the rhythmic pounding of her head. Marisse moves to the door first, opening it up slowly and peering down the hallway - seeing much what she’d expected. A dingier, if similar hall to the one she’d first run down. She wasn’t done trying to get out of this crazy place just yet… But she wasn’t going to barge out the door like last time. Instead, she grabbed the plastic bag and retreated inside, plopping down at her ‘new’ desk. “Just you wait, assholes.” she mumbles, dropping it on the desk before her and pulling everything out bit-by-bit. “I’m gonna bring hell down on you.” Looking to the takeout boxes, she smiled dimly. “After dinner.” The one she delved into was full of some sort of rice covered with sauce, forcing her to eat slowly - using the still-fused chopsticks as a makeshift spoon rather than using them properly. Everything that was in the last bag, to her knowledge, was in this one. The headset, food, water, pill bottle, cigarettes, and booze. As she ate, she moved the pill bottle closer to her, reading the labels to see if she’d be able to make out any important info - names, locations, what it even was. All she was able to figure out was that it had essentially the same stuff as aspirin, with a few other things she didn’t recognize. They must know she’d have a helluva headache from the drugs. “How thoughtful.” she grumbles. She gulps down a pair of the pills with a mouthful of water, hissing as they go down - they’d at least clear her head up a little. Enough so that she’d feel like she wasn’t in a headlock, she hoped. Rather than try anything else for now, she finishes up her box of food and rises again, moving into the bathroom. Though it was dingy, she was able to find a mirror that was… Functional enough to give her a decent look at herself. Thankfully, she didn’t look like she’d felt. At least, as bad as she felt. “Hm?” she thrums, tilting her head toward the mirror. “Black…? Did they mark me or something?” she muses, rubbing her scalp with one finger. To her dismay, nothing rubbed off on it. “Assholes.” she mumbles, patting her cheeks and trying to smile. Her face looked… Odd, though she couldn’t place just what was wrong with it. It wasn’t like she was looking at a stranger in the mirror, but it wasn’t like looking at herself either. It was like looking at someone that someone else would mistake for her. “Aaagh…” Frustrated, she pats her cheeks and turns away, cursing out the mirror as she moves back to her room. Another note had appeared with this bag, just like the last one. She didn’t open it just yet, mostly because she expected that it’d say the same thing as the last note, maybe with a paragraph chewing her out for running. Thinking on this, she thought to the computer it’d mentioned - that some more ‘instructions’ would be on it. Maybe if she played along with them, they’d relax security on her? Grabbing the headset, she fumbled with the inputs and looked around for where to plug them in the computer and where to power it up - even if she wasn’t going to work immediately, she wanted to find out what they wanted from her and who the hell they were. It was surprising how natural it felt to without clothes after two bouts of consciousness without wearing any. A small part of her actually found it kind of liberating. An ironic thought considering her situation of course, but still there nonetheless.As she sat there in front of the desk she felt the stubble of her own pubic hair about her crotch, corasely rubbing between her legs and making her feel…antsy, similar darkened areas showing up under her arms as well, unlike the former blonde curls. How long had she been out exactly? It was so hard to tell time… Like the last meal, the food settled heavily in her stomach, making her feel bloated again. Unlike "yesterday" where there was soft murmuring in the walls from time to time, the noise here was a bit more robust. Periodically she could hear someone flushing a toilet, or yelling something in some foreign language. Popping the headset into the audio jack of the computer, she was greeted with the electrical hum of the current running through it. It felt like it vibrating her very skull like a tuning fork, but it was manageable. The laptop itself was pretty nice, though the casing was a bit scuffed. Had the one in the last room been like that? It was hard to recall, but not that it mattered. When she opened the lip the screen popped on, showing a fairly barren computer, with a bunch of programs she did not even recognize. Then she noticed something off about the desktop. In place of some quaint image of a beach or a stock photo of a happy family, was just a white box with black borders. In the box were two paragraphs in text, one in English, the other in Kanji. “Dear 垃圾郵件發送者, Here are your work duties: Use provided programs to: -Access online services and activate the gold revenue program inside the chat program. -Hack Emails and Data Registries and then send revenue messages to said accounts. -Access Skype and Facebook registries and contact users by text, voice, and video to acquire proper information for the bank account access programs. -For text, use premade program. -In some situations verbal communication might be necessary to show you are not an automated user. Conditions and terms of your employment here apply. -If video chat is necessary, use intercom to request clothing. Your job is simple. Follow the guidelines above and reach your daily quota, provided in your daily greeting from our supply package, and upon reaching that goal, you are free to relax for the rest of the day. Failure to meet your quote by 5PM will result in measured response. Using this computer for any other means than for work or personal leisure and entertainment will result in swift and measured response according to the scope and scale of your breach. These activities include: -Contacting the authorities -Contacting known relatives and friends -Contacting peers connected to your past in any shape or form. -Attempting to educate yourself. -Revealing your location or previous identity in any way, shape, or form. Finally, we encourage you to enjoy your time here. As long as you meet your quota and do not violate the rules above or conveyed elsewhere, you may use your computer however you like. Sincerely, and with appreciation, JadeTech. The next paragraph of information was illegible, at least to her. Just use the programs and follow the rules and she would be fine, assuming it was true and nothing in the text below said otherwise. Looking in the bag, there was indeed a letter, but the English portion was the same as before. Was the quota written in Chinese?! Maybe if she managed to just do a lot she would be fine. She just would need to finesse a little bit, at least she could type well, all she needed was… The keyboard was in Kanji… “God damn it!” she shouted, her hands coming down upon her desk with a ‘thud’. “How the hell do they expect me to work if I can’t read the goddamn keyboard!?” She was practically seeing red - there was no way for her to figure out what they keys said, and she had no idea if it was even arranged like the keyboards she was used to… Not that it’d help her much, she was never around keyboards often enough to perfectly memorize what they read. Slumping back in her chair and clutching her head, she moans “And I can’t even write Chinese.” It was… Occurring to her that this language was Chinese. She’d begun to pick up a few of its more obvious features, what… Distinguished it, though none of it made any sense to her. Dropping her hands, she looks back to the computer, at the damn wallpaper. She couldn’t educate herself? On what? Was that just a jab - did they know she couldn’t read any of this? Why would they want to keep her from learning it if they wanted her to work for them? Her fist reared up, ready to hilt itself in the computer screen… But she stops herself before she makes that mistake, not only thinking of what harm might come to her, but what her kidnappers might do. “Pff, what can they do? Keep moving me?” she muses, looking around. So what if she could keep getting moved - they’ll probably replace the computer if she breaks it, but they couldn’t do jack if she tried to report them to the authorities over the web… Oh, wait… “They’ve got hackers.” she blurted out flatly, sighing afterward. “Son of a… Ugh!” Stamping her foot, she glared at the computer again, shaking her head. “If they’re anything like what they want me to be like, there’s a fat chance I’ll be able to get anything out.” Without a little subtlety, she silently adds. Well, she didn’t want to seem too suspicious - she didn’t want them to need to keep an eye on her all the time, and if she refused to at least try to work, she wagered they’d pay her some mind. Marisse sighs. “At least the mouse is universal.” she mumbles, dragging it across the screen and testing it out. Finding it in proper order, she rolls it over to some of the odd programs, opening them up just to figure out what they do, occasionally reaching over for a drink of water. The sounds bleeding through the walls around her weren’t like any other ambiance - it wasn’t background noise that’d simply fade into the background with time. It was a constant din that was always reaching into her ears, bugging her and nagging at her - that she couldn’t understand it made it fall from a mere annoyance to a something more threatening, something she feared, because she didn’t know if it was casual conversation or notes on her performance. Her eyes rolled over to the vodka, looking at it wistfully. She wanted something to… Help her escape from this place for a while, but she had absolutely no doubts that it’d do more harm than good. With an exasperated groan she shoved it and the cigarettes beside it over to the very edge of the desk to get them out of her field of view, removing them as a temptation. Well, the cigarettes not so much - she wasn’t a smoker, and had no plans to start, even in a situation as stressful as this. Every so often a thump would come up from the floor below as something hit it. A muffled sound of someone making noises made itself known shortly after, though it was hard for Marisse to tell what exactly was going on. Were there other people trapped here too? There had to be given all the hallways. But if so, why weren't people screaming for help? Maybe they had figured out there was no hope. No! That was an unacceptable situation. But what was she to do about it? That vodka continued to look appealing, almost like itself was an escape, even if it was only a symbolic doorway out of here. Unaware that whatever was happening to her was affecting the very anatomy of her brain, slowly expanding the addictive centers and regions that dictated a propensity for compulsive and binging themed behaviors, it did not occur to her that the bottle looked more tempting than usual because of something they were doing to her. At least her headache was fading slightly. Or maybe she had just gotten used to it. It was a bit hard to tell, the sensation almost like ringing ears in a sense. What she did not know was that all the items inside the room were working on her in subtle, but increasingly more potent ways, each moving her body and mind in a general direction but individually having unique focuses that allowed her to eventually form her own identity in this new existence, even if it had nothing to do with her old one. Unlike the usual headaches which usually are a result of vascular dilation and constriction in the brain, there was something more going on. Whatever chemical wonder working through her body had essentially washed over the surface of her brain, soaking into it in a solid coat almost like someone staining hardwood floors. It was both thorough and sealing, making all of her mental changes permanent and progressive with a ratcheting effect. She could change further, but never backwards. As such the process left her feeling somewhat groggy and drugged, but it was hard to notice given that she was just knocked out for god knows how long. If she was going to be forced to use the computer, she would need to figure out some way to appease them in the short run. Surely they would not punish her for not being able to understand a language she did not know right? They had to know she was a foreigner. The most Chinese she ever heard before in person were a bunch of Chinese chefs in the back of a take out China Star while she was waiting for food back in college. Still, she found that when she right clicked the screen, the prompts were in English. Maybe she could do it all by mouse? One of the programs, labeled in Kanji, had an icon of a gold coin with some Yuan symbols behind it, the word just coming to mind, unknowingly at the cost of easily grasping for the English equivalent, the flickers of that verbal deterioration sparking ever so subtly from those pills. The next one was of a picture of an envelope with a black fedora on top of it. Beneath those were the desktop icons for Skype, but with Chinese characters under it, and Facebook. When she clicked the Windows Start button she was greeted with a long slew of games, all of them in Kanji of course. She could make out a few icons just from popular culture, World of Warcraft, Farmville, and a few others. But the rest all escaped her. It felt to her like someone was wrapping a hand around her brain, squeezing and locking up her thoughts and making each attempt at thinking, or even doing nothing, hurt as bad as banging her head against a wall. Not like she wouldn’t like to do that, at this point in time. The backwards logic of this freaky organization was driving her up a wall. “Oh, hey, let’s kidnap a girl who doesn’t know a lick of Chinese. Or Japanese, or any language other than English.” she groaned, her intermittent clicking being the only sound in the room that wasn’t being generated by her… Neighbors, she supposed. Whoever they were - voluntary occupants or otherwise. Maybe she’d get to socialize with them eventually…? No, she didn’t think so. Not when they wanted her to be fucking rooted to this computer. Marisse’s lips briefly curled into a smile, her head shaking. “Maybe their kidnappers just messed up and grabbed the wrong Marisse.” she muses, finding a small bit of humor in this dark situation. “And they realized it halfway through, but decided to roll with it. Heh, I hope someone’s getting fired because of me.” Her hands once more run through her hair, smoothing it out and working as a makeshift comb to clear up the few kinks that her drugged slumber had birthed. Once they were done, they rested on her head for a moment, and she grinned, thankful that her headache was relaxing somewhat. She didn’t know if it was because the pills kicked yet or what. One part of her hoped that this was the case, because if it was, she’d be blowing through that bottle just to get her head straight. She takes a long drink of water and sighs. Whatever the case was, she knew she had to get to ‘work’, or at least try to figure out what the applications did. Her first, most obvious target was the coin. Running her hands through her hair had left a bit of a greasy feel on her fingers, reminding her that she had not showered, or even cleaned up at all since she had arrived in this place. Going without being seen by anyone must have made her slack off a bit. That or being kidnapped, but who knows. The thought made her chuckle softly and idly wonder if she was starting to lose if it she was finding humor in this serious of a situation. In the least, no one had seemed to have actually harmed her. And despite not having any clothes, she had not been raped or anything like that either. It was all in the little things. Of course, in the poorly lit room she did not see that her hair was actually quite greasy, whatever had been happening to her hair having made it extremely oily and prone to being a thicket of a rats nest if she did not take care of it every day. However, in combination with this, whatever was saturating her brain was also eating at her frontal lobe and slowly beginning the process of deteriorating her capacity for forethought, patience, and self restraint, let alone discipline and care for proper routine. All of it was just beginning, but such things were destined to snowball substantially as time went on. This was merely the sneeze that would initiate the avalanche. Clicking on the coin icon a large window popped up reminiscent of the command prompt screen that always was too intimidating for her to mess with whenever it popped up back on her home computer. After a moment a bunch of Kanji appeared in the black box, flooding the window as it started scrolling further and further down until finally ending in a blinking cursor. Marisse looked down at the keyboard, unsure what to type. But before she could do anything the program seemed to kick itself into second gear, another window opening up. This one looked like a game. While the subtext was in Kanji the title was in the Roman Alphabet. “Aion.” She had vaguely heard of such a game somewhere before. A login prompt came up and the black box in the other window sputtered out more Kanji before the prompt filled itself out and logged her in to show a full character roster, each named random garbage like “swefw” or “aztsgll.” She clicked one tentatively and watched as the game booted up. English! The game was in English! A flutter ran through her heart. Maybe she could contact someone and ask for help, maybe get them to call the police and…She paused. The keyboard was still in stupid Chinese letters, how the hell was she supposed to type anything? She didn’t even know how to move! However the program running in the background seemed to do almost all of the work. It was not long before she noticed her character “speaking,” both with a speech bubble and in the chat box below. “<<<<<BUY 5.99USD 4 12000PLATNUM, BYE NOW JADETECH.CN.>>>>> <<<<<BUY 5.99USD 4 12000PLATNUM, BYE NOW.JADETECH.CN.>>>>> <<<<<BUY 5.99USD 4 12000PLATNUM, BYE NOW.JADETECH.CN.>>>>> <<<<<BUY 5.99USD 4 12000PLATNUM, BYE NOW.JADETECH.CN.>>>>> <<<<<BUY 5.99USD 4 12000PLATNUM, BYE NOW.JADETECH.CN.>>>>>…” The phrase kept repeating itself, prompting others in the chat to curse her out. What was she even supposed to do anyway? Why kidnap someone to just run an automated program? A ping interrupted her thoughts. Glancing down at the chat box in the lower left corner of the game’s window, she saw a message pop up. “How safe is it?” She looked over and saw it was a “whisper.” But how was she going to reply? Another ping. “I won’t get banned for this will I?” All the while her character continued to spew the message. Maybe if she hit the keyboard she could figure out what key meant what for English? Perhaps it was worth a shot. “Uh.” Looking over the keyboard, she found herself at a complete and utter loss. She didn’t even know where to begin typing, a single digit hovering over the keys tentatively. “Uh…” Besides, did she even want to respond to these people? She never played many games herself, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that randomly repeating offers in the format ‘her’ character was providing weren’t exactly legit, especially when real money was brought into the equation. No, no, they didn’t just want her to just hang around and… Idle, was it? They probably wanted her to talk to people, so that they could buy whatever the hell this platinum they were selling was. “Uuuuuh…” Her short nails scratch at her dry scalp, through her slightly-greasy hair. God, why did she even want to help these people that kidnapped her? So what, she could ignore these people - who knows what the hell JadeTech would do to these people to get their money, let alone their offer… Something in her doubted they’d just provide whatever they were supposed to without any strings attached. Biting her lip, she throws her hands up and collapses back into her chair, muttering “Fuck it. Fuck ‘em. They’ve got a link to… Whatever they’re offering, I’ve done my job.” Grabbing her water, she takes another sip before casting another speculative glance at the keyboard, her gaze sticking on the foreign symbol it lands on and her brow furrowing. “No…” she mumbles. “No, just saying ‘Fuck ‘em’ won’t get me anywhere.” With a deep sigh, she leans over the keyboard again and moving her hand toward the highest, leftmost key. In the day and age she lived in, she couldn’t say she’d never used a computer before, not so much that she didn’t have rudimentary memory of how it was structured, both practical and muscle memory. “Alright… They’re called ‘QWERTY’ keyboards, right? That means… This is the function bar… These are numbers… And these are the letters.” she mumbles to herself, running her finger lightly over the first, second, and third rows of keys respectively. “Q, W, E, R, T, Y.” she chimes, running over the second-through-seventh keys. A stormy look crosses over her face, dark shadows cast across it by the illumination from the monitor. “Unless it’s DVORAK. Those are things. And… Aw, fuck, Chinese doesn’t work like that…” Blankly, she stares at the monitor for a moment. “Fuck ‘em.” With that, she reclines in her seat again, idly scratching under her arm. Looking around the game’s UI, she looks for a clock or any method to tell what time it was - regardless of if she had twelve hours or twelve minutes until her ‘deadline’, she knew it was going to feel like an eternity. The sounds coming from the other rooms still made their way through the thin walls periodically, stripping her of her sense of total privacy in the aspect of seclusion. But there was a certain anonymity about being part of what could be an entire building of captives that was oddly comforting. Well, perhaps comforting was not the right word. It was more like there was a sense of being able to get through this if she was not the only one. Or was that it? The more she thought about it, taking another sip of that water, the more she realized something. She was no longer scared. Concerned, angry, of course, but mostly if she were to articulate her current state it would be annoyed, maybe even slightly apathetic. It was like the situation was just not quite as interesting, which was absurd intellectually, this whole thing should be driving her up the walls. Except it did not. In reality, the chemical cocktail/bombardment that was working over her was already working at her personality and patience, but also her energy. As such, there was a certain lethargy that had begun working over her, further eating away at her patience since things seemed to be more of a hassle than before, but more importantly, it was blunting the edge of the circumstances and making it easier for her to slip up on her escape plans and just give up “for now.” Scratching under her arm again, she found that she was a bit itchy all over. Going without bathing for at least a couple of days, if not more, could do that to a person. Without any clothes on Marisse could felt the stubble of her underarm hair growing back in, though she did not see how it was darkened to the same shade as her roots. It was hard to tell at this stage, but the shadowed area that was developing about the base of her armpit was substantially larger as well as denser, tapering off out towards her arm and down towards her side. It did not matter though, who the hell was going to see her? Aside from the guy that left her food, she was alone effectively. The screen in front of her continued to show her character blaring the repeated text again and again and again in an unending stream of spam. She saw a couple people send her messages. One looked like another inquiry but most appeared to be threats, or at least it seemed that way. It was hard to tell since her character would just spam again and the chat log would spiral upwards and the private messages would disappear. Still, she saw enough of them to feel a pang of anger. She was still a person! Behind a spam bot or not, death threats were not called for, and she was the victim here not them! Marisse had to shake her head of the thought, her heart fluttering slightly from the agitation. She had to figure out something right? Maybe if she played with the buttons enough they- The program cut out suddenly, the desktop note taking up the screen again. However this time there was a new window. It looked like a CMD prompt, not that she knew it by that name, but the text was all in kanji. It streamed down for a while before stopping. Then a small pinging noise came from the laptop speakers. Looking down at the corner of the screen she saw that the clock was flashing. It read 5PM. Marisse doubted if she had accomplished their goal, but what would they do about it? Kidnap her again? At the very worse, they’d just gas her again to knock her out. Not that she had any abhorrence to sleeping about now - for having awoken in the late afternoon and having done nothing, she was feeling pretty beat. She didn’t know if it was her sad resignation to this whole situation that made her tired, or if it was how tired she felt that was making her so apathetic… But, she supposed she couldn’t really dwell on the fact she’d been kidnapped forever. She should be scared by all rights, but there was a point where quaking in fear becomes a hindrance. Marisse didn’t know if she’d hit that breaking point yet, but supposed it was better that she wasn’t trembling like a little girl at the thought of a monster in her closet. Dejectedly, she curled her legs up into her chair and wrapped her arms around them, getting into a fetal position which she only really broke to scratch at herself. The blinking clock on the screen annoyed her - all of her ‘work’ did. For people so set on their deadlines, they didn’t give her a time to wake up, so she probably couldn’t even have gotten her quota for the day done, whatever it was, even if she was actually trying! Or, did she even need to try? “Aaaaagh.” she grumbles, gripping her head. “I can’t make heads or tails of any of this… Why? Why me…?” They didn’t even take into account how people would be pissed at her - she knew how ticked off people could get when spammers show up. She understood the rage, and beyond that, didn’t expect anyone to ever think there’s an enslaved American woman behind that spam. Scratching at her crotch, she grimaces - it wasn’t just her armpits that’d gotten a bit stubbly since… Well, whenever she’d arrived, it was her crotch too. She never really intended to… Show it off to many people, but she did like to keep a nice, smooth shave down there, and now that the thicker, prickly hairs had begun to sprout up, it was beginning to unnerve her. Cleanliness, exercise, and eating semi-well were things that she always had the will to not only abide by, but to keep on doing - this made how weak-willed she was feeling even more concerning to her. She knew she shouldn’t have eaten and hopped on the creepy computer before taking a shower, but… She just didn’t feel she needed one, and it took an effort for her to think of how wrong that was. Marisse sighs, looking to the greasy box of food again. Idly, she stares at it for a few moments before a small ray of sunlight parts the clouds covering her mind - she gets an idea. One that’d probably not work, but an idea nonetheless. “Someone brings me a care package every day, right…?” she muses, beginning to tear a side off from the paper box, begrudgingly licking the sauce-laden side to a degree of cleanliness and plucking the metal handle from it. “So… They can get messages.” Slowly, she uses the end of the metal to carve two words, in English of course, into the newly-cleaned side of the box: ‘need razors’. This brings a smile to her face - she didn’t really know if they were actually going to listen or not, but this method gave her some form of communication with her captors. Slowly rising from the chair to account for the oncoming headrush, she moves over to the door, slipping her little note under it. With that, she takes out another one of the boxes, a full one this time, and sets it to the side, using the bag to store her trash. Having seen no change from the blinking ‘5PM’ on her screen, Marisse assumes that they’ve got to… Do some review on her work or something, and that gave her time to herself. Some time off the clock, she thought, smiling solemnly. She moves to the conjoined bathroom and leans on the sink, looking into the mirror. One tentative finger traces across her face, in doing so building up a small bit of grease. Visibly wincing at this, she washes her hand off with plain water. God, did she get even worse over the course of the day? It was… Gross, just looking like this… But she supposed she did have the mercy of being alone. Now having a bit of time on her hands, she looks around the bathroom a bit more, trying to find the shower. Periodically Marisse would scratch herself again, unaware that it was both a symptom of her mental changes as well as developing physical ones. It was a small sign, but notable nonetheless. She was scratching without thinking about how her actions conveyed herself. It was all part of the slow deterioration of her self awareness in her mind. Combined with her eroding mental filter for her thoughts, Marisse continued to slowly lose her ability to realise how she was conveying herself. Fortunately for her it was not like there was anyone to judge. Still, seeing her already growing her pubic hair reminded her that she was without amenities, and while unharmed, still very much a prisoner. She could feel the friction of her crotch stubble between her legs as she had walked towards the bathroom, the shadow of the emerging hair also significantly larger, darker, and denser than what had been her normal before. It made her feel outright primitive. A grunt escaped Marisse's mouth as her facial structure shifted again as she splashed water on her face, mistaking the sensation for her jaw popping unexpectedly, her cheekbones growing even more pronounced as well as her brow line, making her look both increasingly less Caucasian in appearance as well as much less civilized. It was not much, if she had seen she might have mistaken it for swelling maybe from a food allergy, but it was indeed changing bone structure. Similarly, her pores seemed bigger as well, Marisse being unaware that they were weeping much more oil than before, making her uncleanliness progress much quicker than a normal person, and in theory, progress to much more unsettling levels given enough time. As she went about trying to clean herself she could hear thumping coming from the other side of the wall. Marisse stopped to listen for a moment, hoping maybe it would be some sort of code, but upon hearing what either were moans in Chinese, or someone just babbling, she let the hope drop. Figures she would be the only one that was not from this forsaken country- She did not even notice the gas pump into the room until she was collapsing to the floor. Anonymous 02/03/17 (Fri) 03:50:05 No.1768 Over that “night” Marisse’s dreams were filled with passion and perversions she did not even think were even hidden in her darkest of desires. It was such a blur though that by the time she woke up, all she was left with was a pounding heart and a sopping crotch. Sitting up with a start the young woman looked about. Like last time this had happened, it seemed that she had been moved to another room. And, also like last time, it was worse off than before. The wallpaper was peeling about the corners and significant water damage now stained the ceiling, which was comprised of what looked to be cheap asbestos tiles. Her “desk” was now a folding table with a padded surface, similarly the chair was a cheap fold out as well. The bed springs beneath her groaned as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and planted her feet onto the short cut, stained carpet. However, as she did so her eyes widened at the sight. Her legs now had short stubble dotting throughout her flesh. While not as thick as her armpits or pubic region, it was far more than she had ever been used to personally. How long was she out? The dark hairs belied what had felt, to her, to only having been one night of “sleep.” Of course it was hard to say how much time had really passed for her given everything that was going on inside of her. Similarly, her toenails had lengthened notably as well, having turned a grungy shade of off -white and pushing pretty easily into the yellow spectrum, her nail polish entirely gone. Outside the view was even worse, the brick wall now blocking the whole view. From the corner she could make out that she was only a couple floors from the street now, which looked to be littered with garbage and advertisement papers now that the smog was not obscuring it. But now that she was so low, she no longer could see the sky and check the time that way. In either case the lighting was terrible. Were she to step into the bathroom area, which now looked just to be a toilet and a sink with a scratched up mirror, she would have seen how the shadows in the room drew across her face, making her changing features all the more prominent. “Jiāofù!” Another slamming knock before thudding footsteps away. The message! Had they seen it? No, how could they, she had not even slipped it out the door when she had been gassed… Still, moving towards the front door, which creaked almost as loudly as her mattress as it opened, she found an even larger “care” package this time. Taking it to the bed she dumped the contents to find all the usual, except in larger quantities, as well as a few new things. The first thing she noticed was what looked to be a candy bar. The wrapping was brightly colored and the print all in Chinese of course, but it had that happy “candy” vibe to it she had grown familiar with as a child. The second was a single solitary alcohol wipe, as if to mock her lack of luxuries. It was still wrapped in its paper casing at least. The third was a small shaving kit. Pinned to it was her note, if not a bit smudged. Opening the kit she hopped to get something close to a razor, but felt her heart drop at the contents inside. Inside was what looked to be a pack of cigarettes, another set. However, upon opening the film she saw they were a deck of cards, specifically Chinese baseball cards. All of them were in terrible condition, the cellophane wrapping clearly being a redo job, and all the text had been penned over with kanji. On the side of the box there was a logo. “Razor Entertainment.” Very funny… Had a thick, well-seasoned emotional stew inside of her that was simply frothing; heated by the fires of the burning rage that’d been building since she opened her dry, slightly-reddened eyes. Between the fact that she was in a shittier room, knocked out before she even had the chance to shower, and given this terribly, bitter taunt from her captors, she was sufficiently pissed at this turn of events - well past the point of articulation. “Ass!” she shouts down the hall before slamming the door, stomping into her room with her package… Before turning around to inspect the door, hoping she didn’t break anything. Sure, she was always trapped in here, but she didn’t want to be… Well, trapped even further due to her own stupidity. The frame of the door had cracked a little, but after opening and shutting it a little bit, she resolved that it was fine. Her neighbors weren’t exactly keen on it, she didn’t think - they seemed to shout louder through the thin walls now, and that wasn’t just because of how much more easily sound passed between them. If only due to how hard it was for her to pick out any one person speaking amongst the cacophony, she couldn’t tell what they were saying, if anything about her at all… But it all sounded terribly negative. With another heavy sigh, she sets down her package on the table, which creaks dangerously as she does. The chair does much the same as she eases herself down into it, holding her face in her hands… Holding her weird-feeling face in her hands. Her hands broke from their limp cup and pressed into her cheeks and chin, feeling around. “Hm?” she muses, cocking her head. Her face felt… Weird to her, but how, she was none the wiser. Her hands part with her after a series of weak slaps to her cheeks; a small attempt at waking herself up. Even if she’d only been… Active, at least, for three days, she felt like she was falling into some sort of routine. Wake up, get package, rifle through it, eat, get gassed, rinse and repeat in a shittier room. At least she spiced it up with a few pills and a game last time… Which, she supposed she aught to get a headstart on today. The nagging headache had returned - whatever JadeTech had done to her felt like they’d put a termite in her brain that was eating away at everything that was… Her; that was Marisse, but all she knew was that she had a migraine. With a mouthful of water and two pills, she attempted to solve it… Even if the pills only helped work to JadeTech’s ends. None the wiser, she set it down and booted up her computer, feeling oddly… Driven, today. She had in mind the game she wanted to try out, and was determined to figure out the keyboard today. Marisse wanted to say that she figured they only gassed her for doing a poor job yesterday, and she wanted all the time she could get to study the keyboard, take a shower, and figure this whole situation out… But she honestly didn’t know why she was so determined today. Scratching her stubbly crotch, she digs through the bag for another box of food and the daily note, looking to see if it, or the one on her wallpaper, were any different today. Idly, she plugs her headset into the ports on her computer, throwing it around her neck. Using the start menu, she tracks down the logo she’d clicked on yesterday - looking at the title in kanji. “Aion, huh?” she muses, trying to pick out the symbols that make up the word… Seeing as the title probably wouldn’t be translated because it wasn’t a word or sentence or anything, she figured she’d have a leg up if she learned those symbols, cross-referencing them with the keyboard. “Alright, alright, I… Got it, I think.” she mumbles, going to the search bar and typing in the symbols she saw - a smile comes to her face as she sees the game pop up again. A part of her felt… Proud she was able to remember that. Maybe if she got good enough she’d be able to translate her stuff online and send it off as actual English - now that they might not expect. Her smile drops. Or… They would, actually. Booting up the game again, she scans over the keyboard, feeling much more… Familiar as she digs hungrily into her food, no longer fumbling with her chopsticks… Well, not using them as clumsily as she’d had for the past few days, at least. The package was more insulting than the last. All of this was like some sort of sadistic joke! So this was how they were going to punish her huh? Now that she had been awake for a small bit, Marisse really began to feel the affects of being knocked out. Her entire body felt stiff and ached, unaware that she had lost a whole inch from her bones compressing. She looked a wreck at this point, the constant feed of chemicals in her system taking its toll on her body simply from all the trauma.Bags had now formed under her eyes, slight wrinkles having appeared about the sides of her eyelids while those bags formed a crease as she smiled or moved her mouth too much. In short, it made her look older. Her dark roots had taken over more of her hair, her style lost to the messiness and tangled knots that had begun developing. It looked like she had not had a haircut in a few weeks at this point. Working on the computer, she did indeed feel more comfortable using the keyboard, unaware that the language reprogramming had advanced substantially inside of her brain during her last black out. Where before the kanji had just become somewhat more familiar, and patterns had begun to emerge, now Marisse could pick out certain symbols and begin pairing their meaning more intuitively. Of course, as the drugs worked by overwriting information, not creating new information, this meant that Marisse found herself stumbling slightly over her own English text. She could still read it, but a bit of that innate understanding was now forever lost, leaving her much less confident in what she saw in the game’s chat as she tried to balance that with learning the game. Aion was an easy game to figure out, or maybe it was just similar to the last and she had started with a bit of a boost. In either case the keyboard controls seemed to be independent of knowing kanji and more about memorizing location at least. her character was SFHETS5, a completely randomly generated creation that looked like the diarrhea of a statistical obsessed demon, a hodgepodge of random features. The same program worked it’s magic as before, endlessly spewing out spam, again and again and again endlessly. It did not take her long to ignore it though. Though she had more trouble ignoring all the rage she was getting in the general and private channels. Unlike the last game, this chat box seemed to be tabbed. Having been playing around with it she realized they were sorted by various topics. As such, she was able to see what people whispered to her or were saying about her in the other tabs. None of it was good. It pissed her off more than yesterday. Maybe it was the stress, or her achiness. In either case she did not have the patience for it. As she tried working out the keyboard she hit a couple keys at the same time and suddenly a pop up came up in the game. “SETTING: ENGLISH.” Could it be? She pressed a key tentatively where she would have expected an E. An E appeared! While she would have to work from memory of a keyboard layout, she could type in English! As she lifted her arms up in victory a sudden crack of pain jolted through her head from the sudden movement, spiking her migraine and making the room spin. Marisse felt herself tip over and spill onto the floor as her inner ear seemed to temporarily give out. Not that she would have been able to read it yet, but there was indeed a warning on that bottle of pills. “TAKE WITH FOOD.” Or at least that was what the kanji would have said. When she had begun eating, she had also entered the game. She did not even realize she had stopped. Unfortunately the pills had a nasty accelerating effect when unaccompanied with food in the system. The migraine panged throughout her head like buckshot scattering throughout the inside of her skull. What she felt as pain was actually the sudden spontaneous “popping” of her brain cells, the exploding membranes increasing her cerebral pressure enough to cause the arteries running to her brain to dilate, hence migraine. It was the drug working haphazardly. What cells it ran over, the chemical either stripped away entirely, or rewrote over the following minutes, all of it focused on her lingual system. What cells were surviving had been reprogrammed entirely. Now, while her brain was far from converted at this point, what would have been a solid couple of weeks, if not more, of chemical reworking had just violently shot throughout her brain in this particular development, and would likely keep cascading in progression likely for the next couple of hours. As she sat back up the pain was subsiding back to “default” levels, she got back in the chair, ready to finally get help. Marisse clawed her way up from the ground much like a zombie from its grave - her hand shot up and grabbed onto the table, allowing her to drag herself up as the world gave its last few dying rotations, giving her a moderate sense of stability. It took a moment or two of sitting in her chair for her to realize that she wasn’t being gassed again. Though, even if it wasn’t that that fucked her up… She had no way of knowing the true cause of her migraine, and as such she laid the blame on the most likely culprit - JadeTech. For all she knew, they planted a chip in her head and could knock her out at any moment! … Well, maybe not that, or else they wouldn’t use the gas. But, it was one hell of a coincidence that such a thing happened to her when she switched back to English. Was that just a warning? Were they going to do it again if she looked for help? Marisse began to sweat, eyes wide as she stared at the screen. Were they going to… Kill her? A guffaw escapes her lips. “Heh. Hehe… Hahahah…” she weakly laughed, just to rid herself of the tension, all the while holding her head. No, they wouldn’t kill her - she hadn’t done anything anyone else wouldn’t have done, and they probably needed her to speak some English, anyway. They obviously needed her to speak Chinese too and didn’t teach her that, but she didn’t care about that at all. If this plan of her works, if even one person takes her message seriously, she’ll be home free! The risks were great, but the reward was greater. As her fingers dropped from her aching head and hovered over the keys, she… Drew a blank, at first. It took a bit more time… A bit more effort to think of what she was going to say, gears visibly turning as she thinks of what, by all means, should be a simple message. Though it was simply-worded and brief, she did manage to pull through… And create something comprehensible, at least.To each of the people that’d sent her private messages, even if they were the sickest of death threats or the kindest requests to stop, she sent a uniform message: “Sorry. My name is Marisse Sanders from Texas, USA and I got kidnapped by people named JadeTech and put in China, I am serious, even if you think I joke please call police/FBI/CIA/anyone who can help and tell them about me please.” For as peculiar as her grammar was, she just couldn’t think of any other way of wording her plea… And, she didn’t exactly have time on her side. Like she’s deflating, Marisse exhales and slumps into her chair. Now, she thinks, comes the hardest part. Praying it works, and playing along with JadeTech. If nobody saw her little stunt, then she wouldn’t be the target of any suspicion if she was actually doing her job, right? To everyone that didn’t tell her to stop, and whispered to her with serious inquiries, she bit her lip and replied to them - to her chagrin, positively. “Yes, offers are good.” “No bans, just you give and you get.” “Sharing = caring, we care.” It made her sick to do this, but it was her only choice. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to smell any gas yet… But honestly, and dejectedly, expected it. The least she could do was get some food in her belly until then, she figured, and began to quickly force the remainder of the box’s contents into her mouth, pausing only once to rap herself on the forehead. “Goddamn it, forgot to shower.” That guffaw sounded wrong to her. Her voice, it was almost deeper, the sound something akin to an animal in many respects. It was not the laugh she was used to, but the situation was so absurd what was she to say she was not just losing it altogether? It felt like her head was a carbonated soda shaken up too much, and that her brain wanted to fizzle right out of her ears. But at least it was not a painful as much as a lingering pressure that almost reminded her of a sinus cold. Responding to the "business" inquiries was frustrating, but it at least bought her time. If she was being monitored even if only periodically, by doing some work she increased the odds of her actions going undetected. As she continued to reply to the messages she heard occasional pings from the speakers. Glancing in the corner towards the clock, in remembrance of last time, she saw that instead of the clock flashing, a counter above it was pinging each time it rose by one. Were those people that bought her pitch? As she danced between replying and finishing her meal she once again forgot about showering, instead getting engrossed with the game and chatting. However, in spite of remembering the keys pretty well, Marisse continued to stumble with her thoughts, words just not coming as quickly as she would like them to. Unaware that the medication was still accelerated for the time being, and having been working in general, the longer she actually kept at the computer, the worse she was going to get. Unfortunately for her, accelerated or not, the true insidious nature of this drug program was revealed in how it progresses its pace. By working on the computer, constantly reading and trying to convey herself through writing and recollection, she was stimulating the parts of her brain that were necessary for such tasks. When a section of a brain is stimulated, blood flow to that part of the brain is increased, and as a result, more of that chemical cocktail flows across the surface membranes of the brain cells in those areas. So the more she engaged a part of her brain, the more quickly, and severely it would deteriorate. And that was the catch for Jadetech, once a worker caught on to their job, the job would do the work of changing them on their own. By the time Marisse had finished her meal she had felt her jaw pop a couple of times, unaware that her chin had broadened slightly as well as her jawbone. Her teeth and eyes ached, but she took that as symptoms of the headache of course, unaware that those were beginning to change as well. As she sat there at the computer time seemed to fly by, hours going by without Marisse even realizing she had not gotten out of the cheap chair. During all of that, the computer’s heat venting out of the side ports were heating the room and the immediate area, making her sweaty and sticky, her slickened flesh feeling like greased chicken skin after a while. But every time she would think to get up and clean herself up, someone new would ask about her “offers.” After a while she started to forget about asking for help at all. And then, a private message appeared. This one different from the others. “I am a moderator. This is a formal warning to stop spamming or else this account will be banned.” Another message, “I would have banned you outright as a bot, but we have received reports that you are claiming to be a kidnap victim. Do you require assistance? “ Marisse had her head down, away from the screen and buried in her second box of sauce-laden noodles, almost missing the message if not for the notification that came with it. When her eyes, which looked not only tired from how dazedly; boredly they looked at the screen, but from the bags beneath them and the shadows that the monitor cast across her face. However, a spark of life returned to her face and a noodle fell out of her mouth, splashing her chin and lips with sauce as she saw it. Hastily moving her box of food, she scrambled to reply as fast as she, and what she presumed to be her tired mind could muster. Her fingers moved quickly as she typed the words out, the only delay coming between them - thinking of what word should come next, as if she wasn’t used to the language. “Heh, the Chinese must be… I must be getting used to it.” she warbles, clearing her throat afterward in an attempt to clear the faint distortion from her voice. She didn’t… Sound like herself. In her rush, her message to the moderator came out oddly, but got her point well-enough across. “Thank for reply. Name is Marisse Sanders, got kidnapped by people named JadeTech and got made to do this spam or I get punished. Don’t know where I am, somewhere in China please send help fastly.” “Fastly?” she muses as she sends it off, praying he won’t think she’s messing with him. Somehow the word sounded weird, but… She couldn’t think of anything better. Biting her lip, she watches another few spam messages pop up and hover over her character… Would another moderator step in and ban her before she got the chance to do anything? Would JadeTech shut down her account before that? Even if she does get banned, would JadeTech just provide another account to spam with? Holding her head in her hands, she thinks of the possibilities, taking deep breaths… Oh, god are they gassing her? No, no, no, that’s just anxiety… God, she actually had a chance to get out of here! Filled with energy for the first time in a while, she pries her tired eyes away from the screen and audibly peels her sweaty, nude ass off of the chair, the cheap plastic clinging to her supple flesh every inch of the way until it got too far. Seemingly with every inch she moves from it, her joints pop, giving life to small pockets of warmth where tension had been moments ago. Stretching only gets rid of the few areas her movement hadn’t before, leaving her only feeling warmer… Not like she wanted that, anyway. Idly she fans herself, trying to wipe some of the droplets of sweat from her face, feeling her stomach wrench as she runs a hand through her greasy hair, which clings to her cheeks and neck. “Yeeugh.” she murmurs, peeling her hair off of herself. “Today, I swear… A shower.” she mumbles, trying to think of the words again. Even when she’s talking…? It wasn’t just the sweat that bugged her - in fact, she wouldn’t normally care about how drenched she was. It was the smell. The horrid, pungent saline scent that tinged every breath she took and only moved about the small room, her presence seeming to stain every corner of it with the foul odor. It’d not quite gotten to the point of making her eyes water… But smelling it at all was new for her, so used to long, hot, soapy showers to wash off any bit of sweat or dirt she may’ve amassed when she worked or worked out. With baited breath she awaits the mod’s response, sitting back down and taking her box of food again, eager to finish it, to put to rest stomach which has long-since been knotted with anxiety. Some sauce spilled onto the keyboard from when she had turned her head away from eating to spot the message. All the while she tried to reply to the person Marisse did not even notice the similar globs of sauce and spices that had splattered over the swell of her bust and over her stomach. No, the more she typed the more her head seemed to hurt. It was like Jadetech was outright in her head, bopping her brain with a stick and saying, “no!” as one would to a dog that just piddled on the carpet. With her mental filter eroding as she continued to stimulate her communication centers in her brain, she found herself mumbling out what she was trying to type every so often, and of course thinking out loud whenever she paused to think or note something. However, her voice was indeed warbled, deeper but with a sort of a melodic cadence to it, like the faint beginnings of a Chinese accent, the beginnings of enunciation issues slowly working into the root of her tongue’s muscle memory, or more aptly, removing things from that memory. Similarly her syntax was starting to erode away, as evident by her typing, but also in how she was starting to approach her English. As the familiarity with the language decayed in her mind, that natural feel that a sentence structure just felt “right” was washing away. That lack of confidence made her stumble over the keys a bit more. The heat radiating off the computer had filled the room pretty quickly. It had become clear that the room was not ventilated, the temperature of the space having climbed throughout the time she had been on the computer. But now she had become acutely aware of her smell. While she was a human being, and she had experienced her own body odor before, this was something much more pungent. In reality, the combination of the food she had been eating, which was heavy in thick spices, and her greasiness that was making it a problem. She had been unclean for so long, all that oil, sweat, dead skin, and the like had coated over her flesh and the sweat was just turning it into a brine that evaporated in heavy plumes of reek, adding to the humidity of the room. She could almost taste her stink on her pallet, which, much to her disgust, made her stomach gurgle hungrily. It reminded her that she had not cleaned up pretty much at all at this point, her teeth felt grimy and coated as she ran her tongue over them, the things feeling more slablike. Although she thought that was from not brushing and not because they had indeed grown slightly, actually losing some of their formerly straight, orthodontically adjusted appearance as the real estate in her mouth became a smidge more precious. She really needed to- Ping! She looked at the screen, grinning. Butterflies flittered about her stomach, making her forget about the smell, or thinking about how her chair probably had her stench ingrained in the foam of the cushion at this point. No, if she could get help she could finally get out of here and never see this horrid place again! “We do not take fraudulent claims lightly. Can you demonstrate your sincerity? Do you have any information that can prove what you are saying? Marisse paused, why would they doubt her? Weren’t they obligated to believe her outright? All they needed to do was call the police! These stupid Western idiots. No wonder people hated the US. She really had a mad forming. A..what? She was mad! Still, it was her only way out of here. She needed to be of patience. However she seemed to be taking too long, and another message appeared. “Due to the severity of your claims, please click the help icon and submit a formal ticket. Please title it ‘Criminal Report Claim: Seeking Assistance’ so that we may quickly respond to your needs. This way you can write out your situation without worrying about the chat limit. Our staff will respond to you via whisper for immediate response.” “Demonstrate… D-demonstrate my…?” she muses, an eyelid beginning to twitch as she squints at the screen. “Sin-seer-it-ee?” She sounds out the word before drawing back, shouting in rage. “Demonstrate sincerity!? What, fuck, fucking pig dog son of bitch!” she shouts, bringing her fist down from up high and stopping just short of slamming it into the table, stopping largely to keep it from collapsing in on itself. Her voice was shrill and profanity was flowing from her mouth without regard for making sense of any of it, coming… Unnaturally broken, as if spoken by a child who’d only heard them in the forms that weren’t appropriate for them to use when they wanted to use them. When her anger was taken down to a low simmer, her face red and breast heaving with breath, forcefully clicked on the help icon, copying and pasting the mod’s suggested title for it, largely because she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to remember that much or not… Her abundance of sleep, rage, and the drugs that must still be working their way out of her system hadn’t done well for her articulation, she reasoned. But, after all, she didn’t need to write like an English major just to say she’s been kidnapped, which is something nobody should take lightly. After all, she could just be a child who couldn’t type well for all they knew. Though she tries her best to collect herself, it’s hard - impossible, actually. The nagging headache had only gotten worse with the angrier she’d gotten, causing her to groan and fumble for the bottle of pills. Another two ought to get her to her deadline. Gulping them down with the last of her water, she sets to writing out her ‘support ticket’. Her frustration continues to froth and bubble as she comes up short for words - though, she tries to be understanding. They need information - she’s sure there’s always going to be some asshole out there in the west who’ll submit a kidnapping claim for fun an-… Wait, how did she think of them? How did she think of her home? “Western?” she mumbles, pausing for a moment. Sure, it was… Certainly one term for the world outside of Asia, but she never used it before. It… Thinking on it, it seemed to lump such a large portion of the world into one group, and she couldn’t do that. A dry chuckle escapes her. “There are more than one asshole out there.” she says, clucking her tongue and musing over how she phrased that. “And I’m one of them.” she reminds herself. Despite her words, she feels an odd… Disconnect. A distance between both her words and the truth, and herself and her home. It wasn’t just a feeling of her being in a foreign land, but like she was lying to herself to remind herself of her home. Part of her felt sick. “Can’t wait… Until I’m back in… The US.” she says, forcing a smile through her frustration, forcing her words as well. These guys needed information, and they were getting it. When all was said and done, she grimaced as she looked over what she’d written. It felt… Weird. Alien, both like it didn’t look how it was supposed to, and that it didn’t belong at all. “to help people, hear: name = marisse sanders; home = USA, texas, fort worth. born = 1993-3-14. one day woke up in room in china, see signs in chinese out window. tried run but take back. wake up in new place still china. told play game to say thing to get money by people name JadeTech. say do bad thing to me if not do thing. so do thing. i not do thing good and wake up new place still china nother time. place get badder every wake up time. so do thing and talk you, you say help me, you say need in form a t ion i give all i know. i know no more. tell mom/sister i alive. pls send help i dont know if JadeTech will take to badder place now dont know what happen time is small. pls help pls” “Ah, there we go.” she proudly says, capitalizing her name. That cleared up a few of her worries about its look. With that, she sends it off, looking at the clock down on the bottom of the screen. She… Got up early, didn’t she? And, it wasn’t long before the mods came and started talking to her… So it couldn’t be that long until the deadline, right? The mods… Wouldn’t take that long to respond to something this serious, right? The seriousness of the situation was making itself known again as Marisse continued to struggle to articulate herself in the very language she had known her whole life. For crying out loud she had even gotten her family to get her an opt out pass for high school French! Now she was having trouble reading a fucking message! The sense from this made madness in her! Her hands clenched into fists as she tried to calm herself down. The sensation of being unable to communicate was a vulnerable and terrifying experience in many respects. She had no control over the situation, it was almost akin to being a child once more, lost in a world that no longer made sense. Unfortunately, the more she tried to fight the mental block, the worse it would end up for her. After all, she was focusing as hard as she could on articulating herself, pouring her mental energy into the task and sending the drugs coursing through her system to that part of her brain like iron shavings to a magnetized rod, letting them cling, spike, and grow about the source and take over bit by bit. However, out of all the things she could have done about the situation, she wound up making if not the worst choice, at least one of the top three worst. By taking those pills she had only added more fuel to the chemical fire burning in her brain and body. That stiffness in her joints had returned again, unaware that her body’s bone structure was still altering. The medicine did alleviate some of the pain, since she did have food in her this time, but this was more of the medication than she had ever taken in a single day, not even a day, but an afternoon. As she typed out her “formal” response, she felt her stomach churn, those butterflies multiplying as she fumbled over every word and sentence structure, making her feel both stupid and confused. Even spelling was starting to escape her, as some of the words needed to be sounded out then spelled phonetically a couple of times before she could correct herself. But, every time she did, there was a hollowness in it, like she was winging language lessons that she had not pulled out of her hat since she was in high school, a rustiness that did not quite scrape off as much as one tried to push forward and hope that the overall context made more sense than the statement to statement syntax. In some respects, the frustration she was experiencing also fueled this emerging stereotype about Americans and Western thinking, as if bashing on the West would justify not being good at English because it’s not a “worthy” subject. That seed did indeed seem to have wormed its way into her brain, a certain elitism and xenophobia beginning to bud in her mind, both as a defense mechanism and a philosophical approach. Still, she had sent it. Now all she needed to do was wait for them to read it and send help before that gas does anything else to her. She clicked around in the game a couple of times, trying to distract herself while all the while being acutely aware of each passing minute. She felt that at any moment she could end up getting gassed, although nothing of the sort had happened yet. Part of her began to wonder why that was. They had gassed her for all sorts of reasons. Surely they had to be monitoring her work since last time 5PM hit they had punished her pretty quickly. Were they watching her now? Did they know what she was doing? Or were they only checking at five? Marisse could hear what clearly was the sounds of sex in the room adjacent to the wall the table was pushed against. The walls were definitely thinner in this part of the building. For a moment she felt a pang of irritation, but then it was replaced with something new. The sounds of that pleasure were almost arousing. She could feel her loins stir at the realization, her tongue darting out to glaze over her lips as her legs pressed together before she noticed what she was doing. No! This was not the time! Time small time not now! Marisse shook her head of the thoughts and tried to ignore the noises. After what seemed like an agonizing amount of time she heard the chirp of the whisper tab updating. “Dear account holder #8279321, you are hereby banned due to violation of fraudulent use of monetary schemes, abuse of the communications network, and for perjury upon moderator examination of the previously mentioned offenses. You may appeal this decision in ninety days.” A couple minutes after that the game suddenly logged her out. When she tried logging back in, she just got an error. “Account suspended, please contact administrator to reinstate permission.” The pings in the bottom corner of the screen stopped as well. Above the clock the number 48/50 showed. Did she need to reach 50 in order to meet her quota? The clock read 4:47. “No.” Marisse barely noticed the clock at the bottom of the screen - only the sound of silence; the lack of pinging brought her attention to it, and even then it was fleeting. Her prime concern, her ticket out of here and back to the US… It had failed. All she could do was stare at the error message set before the login screen in disbelief - she flat-out didn’t believe it. Those people, regardless if they were smart, stupid, kind, assholes… They wouldn’t take her pleas lightly enough to ignore them. “N-no…” They wouldn’t! Sure, she might not’ve written those assholes a whole fucking essay, but all she’d said was the truth! There wasn’t anything they wouldn’t, or couldn’t believe in it! Unless… “No!” she shouts, slapping her hands against the corners of the table, tears welling in her eyes. “Was it JadeTech? Did they have contact with the moderators? Were they the ones that banned her so she couldn’t get a response? Did they alter what her message said so the mods would think that it looked like a spam response? “No, no, no!” she cries shoving off from her chair and stomping at the ground, so full of rage and despair she couldn’t help but vent it, doing so like a child having a temper-tantrum, futilely believing that it’d make some sort of change… But all it did was evoke a few plaintive cries from the rooms around her. The one where she could hear people fucking didn’t seem to have any problem, though. “Dumb, pig fuck foreign asshole! No idea what happens here! No idea, so stupid fuck!” she shrilly shouts stepping away from the computer, shaking and weeping. With that… With that game gone, there wasn’t any hope for her to restart her escape attempts. At least, there wasn’t anything she could do today. With a look of malice on her face, she shut down the game and double-clicked on the large, golden ‘W’ she saw in her start menu. With as familiar as she’d grown with the keyboard, she could, with some effort, read ‘Warcraft’ as one of the words. The others she presumed were ‘World of’, but the Chinese words for them. The very least she could do was set up shop again in this new game… Watching her character, some sort of burly… Animal thing with a name that looked like a jumble of letters, begin to slowly rattle off another message with a link to JadeTech. Presuming that those assholes weren’t behind her getting shut down on Aion, they’d want to see her hit those fifty pings… And with only nine minutes left, after her little outburst, she could only pray for them to roll in. She sulked over her keyboard, eyes reddened and cheeks moist with tears, holding her head in her hands sadly. “Please.” she sighs. “Just… Give me this.” It was like she had been betrayed by her own people. The game was clearly an American version based on the chat, or at least English or something of the sort. And yet, no one took her seriously. Well, that was not quite right. Those that wanted to get in game currency for themselves sure seemed to take her seriously. Those people were more than responsive apparently. Maybe Western culture was based in selfish needs after all. Part of her wanted her to dissuade herself like before, to shake her head of the thoughts and focus on the positive and the potential avenues of escape, but a growing part of her just wanted to stop with all the mental exertion and no go against what felt to be more and more of a gut instinct about these people. Instead, she felt like it would just be better to use what opportunity she had and just say fuck all to anyone else. No wonder spammers did so well, they just capitalized on what these people wanted. The World of Warcraft logo was easy to recognize, it was pretty mainstream after all at this point. Not that she knew much about it. The game seemed to run through some sort of hub, “battle.net,” that boasted excellent security according to its subtitle. Well weren’t they the arrogant ones? Once her character had gotten going the threats flooded in. Some people even outright starting spamming her back. It did not matter though, she knew that came with the territory. However, a few pings came in after a couple of moments, along with some messages asking for details, proof, and interestingly enough, something called “bot checks.” While this was going on Marisse did notice that there was also a report button on the site, this one a bit more obvious than Aion’s. To an extent, there was always trying again, but it was also getting late. Besides, if they were watching her, pushing the limits even further could provoke her captors needlessly when she might in reality need to be at this for weeks, if not months. That and she also- Ping ping ping. The clock at the bottom of the screen flashed, as well as the fraction above it. Did she really make it? She made it! What did that mean? Was she free to go without any disturbance for the night? The game in front of her did not close. In fact, it looked like the following day’s quota fraction had opened up, the thing slowly filling following periodic pings. It seemed like she could get a head start if she really wanted to, but at the same time she could use a break. Wait, a break from what? Marisse had to recompose herself. Did she really think she had accomplished much? Well, of course she had, this would make it the first day without any major incident wouldn’t it? That had to be of value right? However her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden pounding on the door. “Jiǎnglì!” The familiar voice of the delivery man shouted from the other side of the cheap door, prompting hoots and cries from the adjacent walls. Opening the door, she saw not a cheap plastic bag, but rather what looked to be a small hat box. Bringing it inside she popped the lid off and saw a note, this time entirely in Kanji, as well as a couple of items. It was the first one that grabbed her attention the most though. A pair of white cotton panties, still sealed in what appeared to be individual packaging. Marisse had to make a double-take as she looked at the pair of panties in her hand, the crisp packaging crinkling lightly in her hand. It… Almost seemed too good to be true - they were actually rewarding her? Giving her something more than the bare necessities she needed to survive? Bringing the pair of panties back to her swampy, moist chair, she places the small box on the desk beside her trash bag… She was running out of room, just a little. Her eyes never left the pristine white of the raiment, and when she sat down, she gave a long sigh of relief. Whether she knew it or not - something inside of her clicked. Her entire body was awash in a feeling of relief - by no means abating the rage she still felt for how she’d failed, but… Made her feel like she wasn’t in imiment danger. JadeTech… They weren’t going to gas her, move her into a shittier room, or anything… And they were going to do that because she didn’t mess up. As with anyone, she looked for confirmation and reward for her work, no matter how easy or hard it’d been… And with that, she’d want to work simply for these rewards. “Panties, huh?” she muses, a smile growing on her face. “I’ll put ‘em on… After my shower.” Marisse smiled and set the pack of underwear back in the box, making her character move just a little to show some form of activity, that there was someone on the other end. A ping brought her attention to the small counter - she’d already gotten one of her fifty hits. So, she was already working towards tomorrow’s goal… What was the harm in trying to get it already? “I mean… I finish my work now, I go to sleep at a good time, I get tomorrow to myself.” she resolves, a smile coming to her lips. Getting into a schedule… Getting a hang of this new life of hers would be good. If she got to know the routine of everything, she’d be able to exploit it… And, what would a few days of playing to their end do? It’d give her time off of their radar - to take her out of the light of suspicion. Clapping her hands, she says “Perfect.” before clearing her throat, once more hearing the distortion. Leaving her character to… Sit around and spam, intent on getting to whatever messages come her way when she got back, she moves to the bathroom and looks about for the shower… While part of her knew she needed it, another part of her worried about what sort of state the bath was in… After all, it wasn’t exactly the fanciest place… “I’ll… Deal with it.” she mumbles, rubbing the back of her greasy head, looking at herself in the mirror for a moment. All of her hair seemed dark, due to how inundated it was with her sweat… The darker spot about her scalp didn’t exactly draw her eye. And after she took her shower, she thinks, she’ll have to dig into that box… And maybe make a snack of that candy bar from her care package. The small cube-like space of her “hotel room” looked kind of pathetic, thinking back on it. Had anyone come in today they would have found an unwashed looking woman of mixed descent sitting in a box of a space, on a cheap fold out chair in front of a laptop on a low end table, with only a twin bed and a basic bathroom to keep her company. There were not even paintings on the walls in this room. But there was a certain amount of comfort in the room now that the quota was filled. While the place was a cheap dump, it was safe, at least in the respect that there seemed to be no gun violence, or crime aside from her…situation, no one really bugged her. She was just put in front of a computer. The dull throb of her headache seemed to had abated for now too, which almost amplified the relief of the situation. Sitting in front of the game the only downside seemed to be she was stuck playing this spambot character for the time being, unless she figured out how to make a new one. Would they even let her do that though? It was an issue potentially to reapproach in the future. Inside the bathroom the shower was not quite as bad as she had expected. It was not particularly clean, and it did not seem very fancy, but it did look functional. Unfortunately, the bathroom was barren in terms of products. No shampoo, no soap. But, hot running water was better than nothing. The shower head was rather high up, almost rooted at the corner of the ceiling in the bathroom. It had a pair of ceramic cross knobs directly beneath them, one with a red dot and the other with a blue one. While the shower was rooted in a bathtub, there was no tub faucet. Stepping over to the knobs Marisse found she had to crane her body outwards to try to reach them without stepping into the tub and potentially dousing herself with cold water first, unaware that a good part of this reason was because she had lost a fair chunk of her height since she had arrived. The knob position seemed to mock her predicament. Force to get into the tub first she managed to reach the stupid things and turn them. At least there was no blast of cold water. Instead she was hit with lukewarm water that did not seem to get any warmer as time went on. For the briefest of moments Marisse was convinced that she had not taken off her clothes, so used to undressing before stepping into showers of past. The realization gave her a soft chuckle. Reaching out her hand she moved to grab at the shower curtain, only to find that it was decorative. The cloth only stretched out to about one fourth of the tub’s entrance, leaving her in full view of her window and computer. Well, she did not expect the brick wall outside to peep on her any time soon and her computer screen was not facing her so no camera issues there. As she stood there, letting the water run over her, the groaning whine of the pipes in the wall in front of her swallowing up the background noise of the other “residents” nearby, Marisse was left to her own thoughts. Her hands roamed over her body in spite of there being no soap in an effort to scrub off the grime that she had accumulated over however long she had been captive now. Looking back on it, Marisse could not even remember the date she had disappeared, sending a slight pang of concern through her. Continuing to “wash” herself, her fingers danced over her soaked flesh, her complexion much more tan than before, her skin not simply olive in tone, but having turned away from the pink end of the color spectrum and more towards a yellowish hue, though it was hard to tell with the lighting. Her leg hair had grown in thicker, and was really starting to make itself known. Similarly her pubic hair stubble looked thick and dark with the water now running over it, almost hiding the entrance to her own body like some forgotten doorway left to moss over in the jungle. Her bones popped occasionally, since this was the most she had really stretched her body out since she had awoken, her shoulders having broadened slightly while her legs seemed shorter than they once were proportionate to her overall figure. It was like someone had stripped the grace out of her appearance, turning her body away from being a Jaguar and more into a out of date Jeep. While she had not been athletic before, her svelte figure had seemed to have lost some of its definition, a layer of puppy fat having formed about her middle and making her stomach soft to the touch in a way she had not experienced since she was little. It felt good to explore herself, like she was engaging in some form of release. She did not even realize she had let out a soft moan, not unlike the kind that she heard periodically from the other rooms, unaware that her altered libido was making itself known now that the stress of the immediate situation had been put aside. A blush rose to her face. She didn’t want to… She didn’t exactly want to feel horny, not here, not now. It was too tense of a situation, too dark for her to be… Enjoying herself. Yet, despite this, she couldn’t help but raise one hand to a pert, full breast and lower the other down to her crotch, gently rubbing at herself, her blush deepening. At the same time as not wanting to, she realizes that she has to - being hot and bothered when she’s supposed to be… Doing something, whether that was her ‘work’ or something else that could potentially get her gassed and moved or something much worse, could only hinder her. With the sound of the rushing water and creaking pipes, she felt… Alone. Like how she felt outside - out there, surrounded by voices, she felt isolated. Here, she felt like she had some form of sanctuary, a form of… Peace. A smile grew on her lips briefly as she removed her hands… Only to disappear as the side of her hand brushed up against the stubble upon her crotch. “Ugh, this…” she recalls, looking down and seeing so many dark spots, her well-manicured fingernails picking at the hairs. “Why the hell’s it growing in so dark…?” Come to think of it, she realized that her entire body seemed to be a shade off. Was it something in the water? Something in the gas they’d hit her with? It was messing with her skin…? She couldn’t come up with any reasonable explanation for it, because… Well, people didn’t just change color like that. Unless they were just dying her hair and shoving her in some sort of tanning booth while she was out. Lethargically, she mumbles “Whatever.” and shuts off the water. She didn’t want to be away from the computer for too long as to not look like she was just… Idling, was it? And, she was about as clean as she felt she was going to get. Though she shuts off the water, it takes a while for the pipes to quiet down, and in that time she wrings out her hair and reaches for a towel… Only to find none. “Fuck.” Those assholes didn’t even give her anything to dry herself with! Unless the panties… No! She couldn’t just ruin them right off the bat! That left… Looking around, she tried to find something, anything that’d be able to adequately dry her, but all she could see was the thin shower curtain. “Do I have to…?” she muses, peeking out from it and looking over the edge, in case anything that could dry her had fallen onto the floor. No dice. “I guess I do.” Using the more dry side, she begins to run it across her body, blushing only as she dries off her crotch and breasts. However, it’s a meager solution at best - most of her progress comes from dripping dry. When she makes it back into the room proper, she sits back down in her chair… And immediately regrets that decision. Having had time to cool, to congeal… The puddle of sweat she’d left on it doesn’t exactly make for a comfortable seat. “Eeeeugh…” she whines, rising up. The dim lighting of the room made her fold-out chair glisten, the sight making her stomach turn. Having nothing left she’s willing to use to wipe it off with, she uses her… Feet, making sure that just enough of it was gone for her to have a comfortable seat. With that cleared up, she digs around in the newer box and fishes out the panties, gladly slipping them on. They dampen somewhat, with the scant bit of moisture still clinging to her legs and ass, but she doesn’t mind. Marrise sniffs, her nose wrinkling. “Mmnnngh…” she gripes again, rolling her eyes. The entire room reeked - of her. Sure, it was only herself she was smelling… Mixed with the food, and the faint, hot, chemical smell of the computer with how much its fans are blowing… But still, it bothered her. She had no reason to smell this way and beyond that, simply wasn’t used to it. With a resigned sigh, she simply waves her hand in front of her face a little and brings the box into her lap, idly picking through it. How efficient she was - between thumbing through it, she began to address the first flood of messages she’d gotten in the game, settling everyone’s worries… Well, as best she can. At this point, she was simply telling them what they wanted to hear… By copying and pasting their own words. “What do I need to do?” “follow @ JADETECH.CN” “Is this a real deal?” “yes real deal” “How do I know I’m going to get my stuff?” “you get your stuff yes” Sure, it was a bother to do that, but responding to every one of them in the queen’s English would be even more of a bitch. “Fuck them.” she rasps, peeling the wrapper off of the candy bar, not even bothering to see what it is before taking a small bite out of it. The shower had kept her out of the stench of the hotel room, now, having stepped back into the main living area the reek of her body odor and old food made her feel slightly ashamed of herself. Looking at the run down place, the window outside might as well have been the glass wall for patrons to look at the newest zoo exhibit. Still, it was not like she could do much about it now. The sun was already setting by the time she had gotten back to the computer, making it all the more obvious that she really could use a lamp, or at least something more than the light of her laptop. Because she had left the game running, the fan was still going and the machine was belting out heat constantly with a high pitched, but relatively soft whirr. Inside the box, underneath the underwear, were a pair of cheap glasses, a small USB flash drive, and a can of…something, she could not make out the Kanji. However, as she looked at the can, almost instinctively she felt that the symbols meant air. Canned air? Compressed air? It did not matter, not with people pestering her to get their money. However, again stimulating her brain in an effort to get her English back into gear, it only crumbled all the more. Even her parroted replies felt shaky at best. Marisse found herself looking at words for moments at a time, sounding them out if there were more than a couple of syllables and even when not, she would easily get them mixed up with similar words. The scary thing was that this was happening inside of her mind as well, her mental voice beginning to use close, but not quite right words, either phonetically or in definition. Part of her did recognize that her writing and reading was worse than her mental and verbal skills. However, it seemed that people were more open to spamming here, or maybe those that were wise to it had filtered her out automatically. In either case she felt like she was getting more responses than in the last game. Biting into the candy bar was a strange surprise. It was definitely not chocolate. The thing tasted like nougat and chewing gum with a gritty aftertaste that seemed to coat her tongue in chalk. Looking down at the bar, she found a white lumpy slab with some sort of chopped nut jutting out of it. She had not even tasted the nuts! That aftertaste made her gag. This was candy? Of course, like everything else in this place, the candy did have a secondary purpose than just being a “delicious” treat. The stuff was filled with toxins of all sorts, most notably two. One was an inhibitor to her endocrine system, specifically the parts that helped kick her metabolism into gear and kept it active. By eating this treat, it was quite literally destroying her metabolism with every bite, which not only would make her more easily susceptible to weight gain, but further her lethargy, her sleep time, as well as overall pep. The second chemical was more insidious. Much like the bombardment of drugs flooding her brain, this one also worked at the same organ too. However, rather than damaging or rewriting things, this chemical targeted the hypothalamus and would cause it to swell and grow out of balance. Being that this was the part of the brain that regulated her hormones, moods, hunger, sleep needs, temperature, thirst, addictive compulsions, and sex drive, by stimulating and over developing this region of the brain it, in many respects, would strip away some of the walls humanity had evolved to keep from being dominated by their more primitive needs based interests. Anonymous 02/03/17 (Fri) 03:50:30 No.1769 Still, it was food, and not noodles for once, even if it was a rancid piece of food. However, she was feeling a bit out of it, drowsiness starting weigh down at her eyelids. The game in front of her had become a chore once again, and all of her replies were starting to blur together. However after a bit she suddenly got a pop up. “You’ve been invited to a group. Accept?” There was a certain curiosity in trying to play the game as an actual game. But why would they invite someone obviously trying to sell gold? With her curiosity taking the best of her, she clicked the green icon, unaware that she had momentarily read the Chinese symbols as accept almost naturally. The entire team roster appeared on the side of the screen, all of them legitimate looking asides from her own. It seemed none of them had their general chat activated, or at least they did not notice it. Maybe they were new? A message appeared in blue party chat font. “Hello, can you help us with this boss please?” Marisse could see her character still spewing out spam in general chat, but switching over to party she found she could type without interrupting the program apparently. This guy was an idiot for asking a spam-bot to do anything but spam… And that gut feeling she’d developed told her why he was so stupid. However, she ignored it in favor of the warm sense of… Was it acceptance? That this guy was so desperate or so new he’d reach out to her, an-… Marisse had to take a step back - this was just a game. She shouldn’t feel honored or whatever because someone asked her about this. Besides, she never played many games back before she was kidnapped, this whole thing was beyond her. “yes i play bad” It was the gist of what she wanted to say, so he aught to understand. All she’d really gotten down was how to move and how to talk… And given that she was a spam-bot that could be banned at any time, he shouldn’t really expect her to stay around long - she certainly didn’t. Chewing off another chunk of that terrible ‘candy’ bar, she responded to another whisper while she was at it, this one another inquiry and resulting ping of her clock. If she could work and play, then it… At least, was something that could break the monotony of dealing with such idiots. Her character seemed to be some sort of beastman with a big sword, so she guessed she could be of some help. While she followed this weird group she’d been brought into, she fiddled around with the pair of glasses she’d been given. Why did they think she needed them? She could see just fine, and it wasn’t like they expected her to be anywhere too far from the computer to read it, or do anything that involved her seeing anything from a distance. She confirmed this by looking about the room, making sure all four walls they’d so graciously provided for her were clear. “I never had the problems with my eyes.” she says, stumbling over her words a little. Putting them back in the box, she gulps down the very last of the bar, washing it down with water and holding her nose - it wasn’t exactly something she wanted to taste, rather than just eat. If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear it was medicine… The USB drive was more of a curiosity than the glasses. What could it have on it? More instructions? She… Did have that note that came in the box, too, but she couldn’t read it. The also had the note that always came with her first package of the day. For all she knew, there could be porn on the drive. With a shrug, she traces her finger along the side of her laptop until she finds the slot for it, plugging it in. She’d get to that when she was done with… Whatever this kid needed. Moving her character forward, she realized there had to be at least twenty different skills on her screen for her to use. However, while the icons were just images, when she hovered her mouse over them the descriptions were all in Kanji. There was always clicking randomly about and hoping that just having her additional support as another member mindlessly bashing at a monster would be enough to pull them through of course. Marisse felt her eyes burn from all the screen time today and the encroaching weariness. They had not burned like this before, the changing woman unaware that it was just another side effect of her regimen of drugs were reworking her eyes. Had she looked more closely in the mirror, she would have seen how her iris color had moved deeper into the shade of brown, becoming muddy and uninteresting. “That’s ok, I’m just happy to get some help. Thank you very much. So all we need to do is go over here and fight Ur’lok Zhul. Do you know how to fight him? You’re going to need to manage his threat, but I think if you just out DPS him, we should be alright. Are you new to this game too?” The person sent a few messages after that, stringing along statements with the fluttering speed of a keyboard pro. It quickly overwhelmed Marisse and her inability to keep up with the text and understand its meaning. However, she was able to follow him towards what looked to be a big trollish looking type. A couple other people were watching it, and after a moment their names appeared in the party list. “Ahoy there!” “Hey.” “Hi guys, I got some help this time!” The original invitor typed back to them. “Um, dude, are you a bot?” The other players gathered around here before the other new member spoke up too, “Yeah, he’s totally spamming the chats right now. How did you get a bot to join us?” As she tried to follow what was going on she found herself leaning in closer to the screen, her back hunched as she felt her stomach press against the side of the table in an effort to get a better vantage of the text. There was another pop in her back, the woman’s vertebra shifting slightly as if she had just ratcheted herself into this position, her back now found this type of posture worlds more comfortable than sitting upright. But, she likely would not have noticed at this point anyway. “not bot real people” she typed back to assure them. It was… Weird getting a hang of all of these icons, trying desperately to figure out what they did simply by what they looked like. “Flying sword? Fast sword…?” she mumbles, tilting her head and squinting to look at some of them. “Aagh, I’ll just test on boss.” Marisse looks away from the screen, only feeling the hot stinging of her eyes as they fell upon much cooler scenery, falling upon the bed. “Mmmh… Maybe work all day has bad sides.” Rubbing her eyes, she looks back to the screen, moving her character around in front of the speculative players. “i spam yes but i real” Her fingers catch over the keyboard, stopping for a moment. Could she… Try to signal for help? Looking to her door, then looking to her clock, she considers telling them about herself… For all of a few moments. No - she couldn’t. She needed to stay off of JadeTech’s radar for a day or two… Maybe even a week so that they wouldn’t suspect her of pulling anything. Her first day, they had to expect her to run - anyone would, when they found themselves in the kind of position she’d been put in. Her second day was shitty too, because she had no idea what she had to do! They had to expect that, didn’t they? Now, her third day… She was working with them! All they’d see was a good little spammer and wouldn’t have any clue she’s trying to escape… Right? She just had to drop the right hints and bide her time… And of course, collect the rewards they gave her. With a smile, she leans back over the keyboard. “we fight boss???” she sends off. “i help but new and bad play” “Yeah, we’ll fight now. Just make sure to do as we say.” The enemy was not that though, it seemed that, if anything, she had been placed into a low level zone and her character’s innate level had substantially bolstered her damage to offset her ineptitude with the controls and skills. As such, and fortunately for her, the fight really wound up just being a matter of hitting buttons as the monster swung around from time to time. After only a few minutes the thing was dead, its body collapsing to the floor and her character putting away its weapon. While short, there had been a bit of excitement in it. No wonder people found games fun. That was a nice little bit of action. She found herself grinning, not able to see how the laugh lines that formed from the expression were much more noticeable than before as she did so. The heat of the computer had already begun to make her sweat again and that griminess was slowly but surely returning as she sat there. “Awesome!” The original kid said as he looted the enemy. As the fight ended the characters turned towards her own again in a quirky way to signify they were addressing her. “Thanks for the help.” “Yeah, but still, **** you for spamming!” The original kid spoke up again, “Yeah, sorry, but I hate spammers. You steal from people. We all just reported you.” What? No, they would not just ask for help only to report her after she had served her purpose. There’s no way that someone would be that low. But, sure enough, after a couple of minutes she got a notice pop up, “You have been reported for spamming, this is strike one of five.” Then another, “You have been reported for spamming, this is strike two of five.” And another, “You have been reported for spamming, this is strike three of five.” They really did it. The little bastards! Marisse could feel her blood pressure rise. But before she could type anything to them, they had all left group. It did not matter anyway, had she tried to say anything afterwards it would have just gotten filtered through the ignore function. Feeling the burn in her eyes and the ache in her head and bones, she knew bed would be the only real solution here. Turning off the computer the room went dark and quiet. The only noises she heard were the muffled noises of the people next door, who also seemed to be quieting down, and the sound of her own breathing. The only sources of light in the room now was the white slit that crept from underneath the door leading out into the hallway, and the orange wedge that cut at a diagonal from the window and onto the wall just above her bed. Moving towards the bed, she slipped under the thin covers and turned to her side. There was one good thing about being tired, it made any bed comfortable. As sleep made itself known to Marisse, a slight hissing sound could be heard from the vents in the room, that misty haze pouring over her once more. Unlike the previous times, which had served as a punishing mechanism, this time it was more of a chemical bath. Her pores still dilated from the warmth of the shower water, the gas flowed into her relatively easily, soaking through her skin and into her lungs and throat, entrenching more changes into her bit by bit as a result. Marisse coughed from time to time as the inhalant worked into her lungs and throat, tickling across her voice box. Her vocal chords thickened, her voice box swelling slightly as bits of her feminine cadence was chipped away, leaving her voice huskier and more warbled. Inside of her lungs, the drugs burned across their inner lining, cutting at her lung capacity and, with it, her ability to use her body for much cardiovascular work. No more running for Marisse. While she could breathe fine, each breath had become shorter, her lungs a bit less efficient than they used to be, effectively negating any cardio work she had developed throughout her life and further encouraging the sedentary lifestyle she was learning increasingly more towards. That candy bar continued to wreak through her digestive system like a dirty bomb down an alley, the other chemicals in the substance damaging her stomach and intestines and making her belly gurgle ominously. Indeed, the candy bar had not only dumped a load of calories into her and shattered a significant part of her metabolism, but it had scraped through her digestive system with the same effect years of poor eating would have accomplished, making her easily bloated and gassy, usually churning up from her gut and out her mouth, as noted by the soft belch she let out as she turned from her sleep. The gas continued to hiss throughout the entire night, changing her in many other ways, bit by bit, hour by hour, until the following morning. The morning. Marisse had no way of knowing the last time she’d actually seen the morning sun - sure, she knew the last time had been her first day here it’d been early morning, but during her long, drug-induced forays into dreamland there was no telling how much time had passed since then. Though it was morning, the sight of her dingy little room was no less bleak that it’d been in the dark of night. How closely-packed the walls of the building she was housed in and the one beside it were stifled the rays of sun rising in the east. Perhaps it wouldn’t be until midday that she’d actually get to see it. This, however, was of no concern to her just yet. Marisse was indulging in a luxury she’d long gone without: dreams. Her medicated slumber simply up and tossed her into a sea of delirious black, uncomfortable and deathlike. However, entering sleep of her own volition seemed to put her in a much more comfortable state, her mind fertile ground to develop something to keep itself occupied. Her dream was simple - she was outside, in some sort of plaza, or campus that she’d never seen before. At least, she thought she was. Marisse didn’t look like herself, and though there weren’t any mirrors, it was just a persistent feeling that she was in someone else’s body. People were moving around her, but always seemed to be too far from her for her to reach out to them, too far to touch or talk to. She could hear them talk, hear them shuffle around, but even in the crowd she felt alone. She didn’t do anything else, simply sat in the center of her dreamscape until it all seemed to fade and… “Snnnrk.” With a snort, Marisse returns to consciousness, leaving behind any semblance of grace she could bring with her. Her arms were splayed out, her hands feeling dry, both legs were open and one leg was curled up. Her blanket seemed to be half off of her body, only covering her crotch and legs, which were pretty much covered already. Before she even opened her eyes she reached down to scratch at her tummy, which both felt and looked a bit… Puffier than she remembered, not to mention more stubbly. She smacks her lips briefly, regretting it a moment after - her entirely mouth felt sore, like she’d just visited a dentist or something. Whether it was the gas, some of the ‘candy’ she didn’t exactly swallow, or simply having gone so long without giving them proper attention, her teeth not only looked a fair bit dingier, a fair bit more yellowed than her previous pearly-whites, but had slightly shifted about in her mouth. In some cases, gaps were more noticeable, in others, the teeth seemed too close for comfort, seeming like they’d come in at an angle. A more noticeable gap rested between her two front teeth. The first voluntary word that escaped her aching mouth was an ever-so-eloquent “Aaah, fuck.” Almost audibly, her tired eyes open. They seemed misshapen - a fair bit closer to the almond shape of a woman of Asian descent. It’s a momentary shock to her to see the same ceiling from yesterday looming over her. It was more familiar, but by no means less foreign. Her hand moves from her belly up to her hair, running through it and gripping her head. The headache was the first foreign thing that had greeted her upon awakening, though it didn’t quite feel as bad as yesterday. “Nothing pills of two cannot repair.” she grumbles, sitting up. Big mistake. She felt like a plastic bag full of water that’d been turned upside down and the air bubble inside of it had shot straight from the bottom and up to the - “Brrrrap!” A blush shot across her face, the loud, malodorous expulsion a far cry from the usual, muted belches she was used to. It reeked of the greasy noodles she’d been stuffing herself with and copper; a weird chemical smell. Was it something she ate? “Likely.” she grumbles, patting her stomach, which seemed to respond with a gurgle of hunger “Eew. I must cut the hairs on me… After food.” It was weird - where was her wake-up call? Usually they banged on her door and said something… Oh, yeah, “Jiāofù.” she recalls. Did this mean they didn’t drop off her package yet, or was she just up early…? Marrise lethargically rolls out of bed, her fall from the creaky spring mattress bringing her into a crouch, which she takes her sweet time recovering from due to the clouds of headrush blinding her… But, even as it clears, her vision is a bit blurry. Finally on her feet, she stumbles to the door, rubbing one eye to clear the haziness from it. Curiously, she opens the door to check for her package for the day. While she had gone to sleep that night of her own free will, it did not result in much more rest than before. If anything it was almost a “hard” type of rest, where she simply switched off, dreamt like she had been starved somehow, then awoke to find time had passed. Of course, being gassed for a solid night had its effects too, and that achiness and headache only entrenched themselves more overnight. It was so constant in some respects Marisse was almost finding it to be a default state of late. It seemed that the night had only continued with the heat, perhaps only fading ever so slightly. As such, Marisse’s sheets were soaked in sweat and the stink of her body wafted about and clung to her like a well believed rumor. Her mouth was not only sore, but had a sort of filmy, grittiness to it that made it feel especially unclean, like she had fallen asleep with a mouth full of food. The sensation persisted even as the weight of sleep lifted somewhat. However, that lethargy had only grown worse over night, and while she might not have noticed it yet, that grogginess and fog headedness was unlikely to ever fully leave her again, always skewing her judgment and forethought notably. The door leading out into the hallway groaned loudly as she opened the door, the poor thing looking like someone had rammed into it a few too many times, the hinges rusted and slightly askew as well. Instead of imagining someone trying to escape however, Marisse could not help but think that maybe the last tenant had too “wild” of a night, making her legs rub together a bit as she bent out of the crack between the ajar door and its frame. Speaking of her legs, the friction of her growing hair seemed more profound than last night, that stubble having spread substantially while she was asleep like ash accumulated in a smoking household’s various ashtrays. She could feel that stubble running over her flesh as her legs brushed together, the hair thickening the closer it got to her crotch, as if it were the epicenter of the whole mess. But it was not just her legs. A thin happy trail of dark bristles had begun to form upwards, dancing from her crotch and over her softened middle towards her belly button. If she did not shave that off, there would be more more midriffs for her. The nearly naked woman chuckled at the thought, snorting loudly almost instinctively, unaware that her nostrils had broadened and her nasal passages having become less efficient, making them quite noisy when too much air was sucked through them at once. Outside there was a package already. Had she slept through the noise? Maybe she had grown used to the rabble from the neighbors. Inside were the usual contents, except this time there was even more noodles, booze, and pills than before, as well as two candy bars at that. Her stomach gurgled at the sight of all of it, the food having grown on her a bit overnight. It seemed like it was going to be another usual day for her…wait no, this was not usual! She huffed at the mental outburst, pissed off at how easily complacent she felt today. Her rapid exhale almost sounded like an animalistic grunt, but that was lost on her, as she herself was lost in her own thoughts. She… Was struggling to find a balance in this situation. She knew full well she couldn’t afford to panic like she did on the first day because she’d make a stupid decision to save herself. She couldn’t be as scared as she was on the second day, because she’d just be paralyzed when she had to do something… And she knew she couldn’t be as complacent and docile as she was feeling today, because that’d only put her deeper in the hole of helplessness that these people had begun to dig for her. “Can not accept, but must act too.” she mumbles, looking at the bag of food in her hand. Well, there’s nothing she could do on an empty stomach… Especially one that felt more empty than normal. As she shut the door, carefully as to not damage it further, a rush of air followed it that wafted the foul smell of her room past her - how stale it was, foul, saline, and… Eggy. The last ingredient in the cocktail of foulness came from somewhere she didn’t know… At least until she stifled another burp. “Gas…?” she muses, looking down at herself, then to the food. She grimaces, looking back to the door. “Asshole. I bet they mean this to occur.” With as muggy as her room was, sitting back down in the chair made her feel like it’d only been a moment since she’d sat on it prior. It was a bit sticky from the torrent of sweat she’d worked up last night and terribly warm as well… God, they couldn’t at least give her some AC? “Maybe…” she begins, looking at the window overlooking the wall of the building beside her. “They give condition air if I work?” No, no, she couldn’t think that far ahead… If she truly wanted something from them, she’d keep working until she got it… And that wouldn’t end up well for her at all. A problem arose as she hefted up her heavier bag to set it on her table: she didn’t have any room to put it down. A few empty boxes of food sat around, as well as crumpled paper bags, the ‘reward’ box, and the stack of stuff she didn’t want to use. The glasses, the can of air, the vodka, the cigarettes, and the cards. Surely they had to have some sort of trash pickup… They wouldn’t just let her fill this room with garbage. “Even if room is garbage.” she thinks, chuckling to herself. Marisse makes a bit of room by tossing everything she didn’t want to keep into a plastic bag and setting it beside her fold-out desk, leaving it open for the stuff for today. The sole bottle of booze was joined by the ones she’d received today, as well as the cigarettes. The food… For as much as she knew it’d mess with her system if she ate all of it, her stomach barked at her to chow down. Who was she to disobey? She set one box and a water bottle next to her laptop, booting it up. The notes that came with the bags and box she set underneath the computer… For later. She felt she was catching on to this language of theirs… And they wouldn’t give her these notes if they didn’t want her to read them. When she was looking at the kanji-filled screensaver, she felt a pang of anger rise up within her, her bushier brow furrowing. While she’d put it out of her mind so that she could get to sleep, she couldn’t help but think of what’d happened to her last night… How those pigs treated her. The stupid moderators, the treacherous members of her so-called party…! She raises a hand to stop herself - this was exactly why she went to bed. All she needed was a good night’s rest… She’d wake up calm, but they’d still be stupid pigs! She was the better woman. The better person. The thought brought a smile to her face, acting as a weak sedative. Grabbing her bottle of pills and popping two into her mouth with a drink of water, she moves her mouse over to her start menu - her first order of business was to check out that USB drive they gave her. It was still plenty early yet - she could take a moment or two to check those out because of how much she’d gotten done last night. She wasn’t done, but well enough along. She’d just have to find another program to use today… She’d already risked eliminating those games as a method of getting her work done. Laying low for a while seemed to be the best course of action. A vertebrae in her back popped as she tried straightening up after sitting down at the desk, only to fall back into the slumped posture, the slouched look both making her look even more out of shape and unrefined, but also more comfortable than keeping herself in “proper” position. Who gave a donkey’s ass about that stuff anyway? Outside in the hallway the stink of cigarette smoke lingered, carrying into the room when she had closed the door. The thought also made her guffaw at her “witness,” completely missing the mistake in her vocabulary as she turned back to the task at hand. Her voice was almost masculine in its huskiness, all the grace and delicacy of her former cadence butchered by whatever was happening to her. As her body continued to change since she had arrived, she was indeed looking increasingly more oriental, a hybrid of what she was and what she was to be, but it was not the graceful, lithe, refined look Westerners might picture when they thought of the Asian beauty. Rather, Marisse was increasingly looking more savage and earthy, the look of a woman likely more Mongolian than of the eastern genetic heritages, her almost swollen facial features belying rough utility than grace or even efficiency. No, she was becoming the person people would hide away, the type of woman that would work well behind the shield of the internet, her heart and mind slowly perverting to match the disgustingness that her body was acquiring and then more so as perverse and nasty flashes of witticisms and mentalities wormed out and bloomed in pockets of her personality. Those belches seemed to be coming in more frequently as she woke herself up more, her stomach now being kicked into gear by her desire to eat breakfast. It did not take long for her to start to feel bloated and gassy from the noodles once she would start, but her damaged digestive system would kick into a storm of churning and glorping as it worked through the starch and lack of nutrients to further fuel her corruptive transformation. However, as she let out that first belch from the last night, she felt a twinge of something else, a slight flutter in the pit of her chest. The chemicals working throughout her brain were still actively rewiring her mind, and in this case, it was cross wiring the part of her brain that mistook fullness for sexual pleasure, the few, but slowly accumulating, nerves already corrupted sending a flicker of pleasure into her from the noxious eruption. This was also the same for the addictive parts of her brain, which had swollen substantially, forming more acetylcholine receptors, pleasure receptors that respond most notably to nicotine, making that small exposure in the hallway quite potent in the poor woman’s brain. The USB clicked into place and opened a document browsing window on the screen. Inside the window was a series of folders, all written in Kanji. That air of familiarity lingered, the symbols seeming to carry an almost innate sense of meaning to her. Looking over them she clicked on the one that spoke to her the most. Inside were a series of images. They looked like newspaper clippings and forms. Clicking on the first one so that she could just use the arrow key to cycle through them all, she glanced at the first one and saw it was actually in English! The article was small, it looked like it was the kind that would be buried deep in the paper. MARISSE SANDERS FOUND DEAD ON CALIFORNIA COAST. Anonymous 02/03/17 (Fri) 03:50:56 No.1770 The body of Marisee Sanders, the young woman that disappeared three weeks ago was found on the coast of Southern California. Her body had been severely decomposed by the salt water and wildlife, but dental records confirmed her identity. Those that followed this story from previous weeks might recall that initially Sanders was presumed kidnapped after a small episode in an online game, “Aion,” where someone claimed to be Sanders and stated she had been kidnapped. However, moderators quickly determined that it was a hoax from a Chinese gold spammer, or a person that hacks accounts for money, and the police did not pursue the matter. It took Marisse a long while to read through the article, both in shock and in confusion. Overnight her reading comprehension of English characters had deteriorated significantly, causing most words to lose their meaning entirely, and many letters at times looking like a simplistic drawing than actual words. Even when she could sound out what she was reading, some of these words just plain did not conjure up a definition in her mind. The realization that not only had the search for her been abandoned according to this but also the inability to get all the details due to…whatever was happening to her, had flared up that anger once again. Pressing the arrow key she saw her birth records, her death certificate, and other documents confirming “Marisse Sanders’s” death. She knew she needed to do something about this. If she did not, no one would come and help her, but Marisse could not help but feel anger with her home. They gave up that easily? Where they really so lazy? No! There was no time for that. However recognizing that she was having trouble typing things out, even if she was misguided by the thought that it was temporary, she did feel her spoken words were still overall fine. Spotting that headset besides the computer, she remembered that there was skype, as well as other voice chat programs, or even voice chatting in one of the games if she wanted to be innocuous, if she really wanted to shoot for help of course. Skype - she recalled seeing the little emblem on her start menu before, and she could remember that one of her few pieces of instructions reminded her to use programs like it to… What was it again? To prove her validity? Something like that. Her fingers trembled as she plugged the headset in - she was shaking like a leaf, both from the news that the flash drive had held and figuring out another avenue of escape… “Is it?” As she boots the program up, she slumps back into her chair, looking at her hands - watching them shake and twitch, seeing them glisten somewhat in the dim lighting with as greasy as they were. The first thing she considered was that they might be watching her - just like she’d thought they’d be in the games… But that was the least of her concerns now. They were able to fake her death - provide DNA, news coverage, a… A… A corpse. What’s to say what they could and couldn’t do? She felt like she’d almost forgotten that they were able to kidnap her in the first place! “If I talk at the mother, men of JadeTech can make with hurt!” she groans, holding her head in her hands. She… If she talked to her mother, not only would she risk putting herself back on JadeTech’s radar, but she’d put her family at risk… Her mother, her sister, her… Oh god, maybe even her friends. She wouldn’t do that to them… She… Marisse relaxes. Slowly, she pulls her head from her hands and looks up. “No,” she begins, a light smile coming to her face. “I must. Men of will make scary to me. Make scary to me so I not do the not want things!” she reasons, everything making significantly more sense in her head. She couldn’t let them scare her. All being scared would do was hurt her. After all, she needed to tell her family something - to give them hope, even if they couldn’t do anything to help. Presuming JadeTech didn’t give her her own hacker account, she could faintly recall her own information, and more importantly, her sister’s. A soft, wet fart escaped her as she leaned in toward the screen, bringing a blush to her cheeks… Not entirely one of embarrassment. Fanning around herself to clear out the scent, she scans over the keyboard, figuring out which keys would allow her to enter the correct info. It was tricky. On one hand the risk she was taking could be profound. Sure, they could hurt her, or her family. But, at the same time she had yet to experience any blatant violence from her captors. No one had beaten her, aside from feeling like she had been hit by a truck when she awoke from the gas, and no where had there been any threat against her family as far as she could tell. No, if anything these people seemed mostly focused on passive aggressive tactics, or indirect conflict. Skype itself was fortunately pretty universal in its layout. And, while all the text was still in Chinese, she could figure out a good portion of it through intuition, and of course the growing understanding of the characters themselves too. However, Marisse found herself stumbling over the keys all the more. Syntax, spelling, it was all a garbled mess in her head. Part of her wanted to simply just type using the keyboard as laid out in kanji just for the ease and so that she would not have to go purely on memory, a thing she felt was betraying her a bit too often of late. Still, she managed to make it work, roughly, in enough time. Soon enough she had managed to log in under her old username. A prompt came up for her to test the headset. A prompt came up in both kanji and English asking her to speak into the microphone and confirm if her audio sounded right through a playback. As she started to work through it she saw that a good portion of her old contacts were online, including her sister. There was a tight feeling in her chest, reaching down to her gut, making her feel numb and bubbly all over… She figured that it was hope - seeing her sister, her friends, seeing something from her life before she’d been whisked halfway across the world and held captive by these hacker freaks. However, it might well have been the candy messing with her digestive system or the hunger she’d all-but-forgotten about. “Sister…” she gasps, holding her hands before her mouth, almost in awe. “I… I see you, I think of I see you not again!” Of course, she wasn’t talking directly to her - she still had to test the mic. Sure, they kept her tech in top operating condition even as her surroundings deteriorated with every fuck-up, but she just had to be sure. Marisse dons the headset… For all of a minute before taking it off, beginning to fuss with her hair. The hard plastic and cushiony foam felt like it’d stirred up a beehive atop her head with as itchy as it’d become. Her nails, slightly longer and bearing dark rungs of dirt beneath them, seemed much better suited to alleviate herself with as sharp as they’d become. “Aya…” she grumbles, a particularly hard scratch evoking a spark of pain. Patting down her limp, greasy hair as best she could manage, she replaces her headset, adjusting the mic close to her mouth and beginning the playback test - giving it a simple test. “Do, re, mi…” she begins, playing it back… And wincing as she hears it. Too loud, she figures, turning it down to give herself a clearer listen, but even then it doesn’t solve the problem with it. Her voice is too deep - nothing like a guy’s, but lacking much femininity to it. It’s nasally too, and hearing it only begins to grate on her. “Aaah, what are the happen?” she grunts, rapping her knuckles on her desk in frustration, reaching over for her water to clear her throat out. Coughing a few times, she repeats - “Do, re, mi!”, and though her voice isn’t as warbled, it’s still just as deep and grating. Marisse exhales quickly, fuming. “Cheap pig fuck asshole.” she grunts, slouching lower as she curses out JadeTech - they gave her faulty equipment, with shitty reception… She didn’t have to look at the brand of headset to know it’s from a western developer. With another sigh, she concludes her audio test. While not content, she submits to the fact that her equipment is poor… Well, to her knowledge, anyway. After all - she knows that if she can get a video call going, her sister won’t need sound to recognize her! The camera on her laptop could be showing her in the lowest resolution possible and she’d still come through clear. After all, there wasn’t much changing her face could do. The only difference she could tell was that she didn’t have makeup on! Selecting her sister, she begins to smile - she showed up under her proper name, Danielle. Even if she couldn’t get across to her sister where she was or how she’d been taken, she could still give her sister hope that she was still alive. That alone could expose her death as a lie and get people looking for her again! It was perfect! “With luck of mine, Danielle will be doing with walk away.” she murmurs, giving a deep chuckle and pulling another bundle of noodles out of her first box of food. She starts a video call, looking away from the screen briefly to fiddle with her hair, trying to get it into presentable… Or, at least, recognizable condition. As she kept trying to speak into mic and then her following thoughts, Marisse found that the strange cadence and inflection that had been creeping into her dialect was only getting worse. On top of all the issues she was having making herself sound competent in English with her failing vocabulary and grammar, Marisse was starting to have trouble enunciating correctly. This combined with her new pitch of her voice only made her sound more and more the stranger to her own ear. It did not even occur to her that she was eating while getting ready to talk over the internet. While there was a moment where she tried adjusting her hair, it was very superficial. She gave no thought to her sweatiness, the lack of clothing, the poor lighting or how she might really look after all this time in captivity. Clicking the call button the usual Skype pinging noises began, the camera light turning on automatically as the call set itself up. After a few rings a picture appeared on the screen of a young woman that looked much like Marisse, or at least how she had when all of this had started. The woman looked tired, as if she had left the computer on and had been asleep. “Who is this, do you know what time it-” she paused, looking down at the screen to see the username. “Ok, who the fuck hacks a dead person’s account! If you have any sense of self preservation you should hang up and go-” Danielle was getting going in spite of her tiredness, her words filling with a mixture of anger and hurt. Marisse needed to act quickly before things got out of hand. Danielle was leaning into the screen a bit, as if trying to make out the image, “A-are you not even wearing a top?! What the hell?” With that she hit the end call button, leaving Marisse in silence once more. Her sister’s username was still green, maybe if she could quickly explain herself she might be able to get back on the call. In spite of it being her sister, another pang of fury whipped through Marrise’s mind. Of course, Western woman jumps to conclusions without thinking about things. That bái mù chòubī! Always- What did she just think now? It had slipped through her mind in a voice so natural for a moment it was horrifying, completely pulling her out of her complacency and reminding her that she really did need to get out of her, and soon, before she lost whatever will was left to bother. She did need to get out of here - if she didn’t, she wouldn’t be doing any of this. She wouldn’t have appealed to the incompetent administration of the first MMO she’d been spamming up, she wouldn’t have one-sidedly aided the backstabbing players of the other one, and she certainly wouldn’t be trying to contact her sister who certainly didn’t just mistake her for a stranger. Of course a sooner rescue was better. The sooner she was out of here, the sooner she could put all of this behind her, and some methods of escape might actually be easier… But on the other hand, her addled mind found it hard to muster any sense of urgency. It was content in the knowledge… Or, rather ignorance, that she didn’t have any time limit, as it were. She didn’t have X amount of days before something happened to her… At least in her mind. However, that docility was lost for but a moment as she saw her sister hang up on her. Her face reddened as if she’d cracked into her box of General Tsao’s, her hands trembling over the keyboard. She shut her eyes and looked down, raising her hands to her temples and simply sat, stewing and sweating, waiting for the initial rage to pass through her. A dozen things crossed her mind at this time - all of them rife with detest for her sister and society - but she tried her damnedest to tune it all out. It mostly worked. Despite not having moved a muscle in roughly five minutes, she was breathing heavily, almost fuming with sweat and the last dying embers of anger, even as reason… Her reason returned. Surely her sister was shocked. Distressed that the sister she thought dead suddenly contacted her. After all, a corpse was provided, and a funeral was held. It was probably more realistic to think she was dead than to think she was alive and that it was all a hoax. Definitely a hard thing to reason against, she figures. What breaks her out of her little ball of anger isn’t that - reason alone would’ve taken longer. The tension that’d been building and building was simply shattered by a single wet fart, the suddenness taking her off-guard and… Making her snicker a little. Being angry after that felt like it’d take effort to do… And, well, she didn’t want to waste any more time fuming than she needed to. Stress is bad for the skin, she thinks Her fingers, now steady, lower themselves to her keyboard, her eyes opening. She has to blink a bit of blurriness out of her eyes, which stubbornly persists for a moment before clearing… Mostly. If she wasn’t so focused on typing out her responses and she took a look behind her, she’d find the opposite end of her little apartment wouldn’t be entirely in-focus. “no no no marise is me” she types, offhandedly musing about making a file she could just copy and paste to explain her situation. “they find girl that is wrong not marisse” Every sentence she types is immediately sent off, barraging her sister’s feed with her messages. “my dead is not real” “taken to china” “help” “love our mom tell her” “please” “no person listen” Her final post took a while to type… The anger she feels, though hot, is more like ice than anything else, if only for how it melts into deep sorrow. A gurgle escaped her stomach like a growling lion. In spite of having just eaten, the noise was accompanied with a hunger pang, as if her irritation had only blossomed her gluttony further. The cocktail of drugs swirling within her system were indeed producing such a result, if not inadvertently. Irritation, anger, pleasure, it all released various hormones and neurochemicals in response. Unfortunately for Marisse, the adrenaline she produced in her anger only furthered the work that her captors were doing to her brain, specifically her frontal lobe. Her prefrontal cortex, which regulated her ability for complex cognitive behavior, personality expression, decision making, and self regulated social behavior had eroded substantially over the recent days/weeks. Had Marisse stepped into a CAT scan, the comparison between what would show up now to what her brain had been before would be striking. Some might say that it had even regressed to the complexity of a young teenager, leaving her impatient, impulsive, and nearly unable to thoughtfully plan her actions, let alone the distant consequences of them. In the end, it made her all the more conducive to do what felt good now, regardless of what would happen later. Each message she sent seemed to make her feel a little woozy, unaware that the combo of the emotional surge she had experienced a moment ago with the stimulation to her lingual centers only accelerated the process. In a sense, every message she sent came along with a small part of her English, each stamped with a do not return to sender tag. As the last one went through she waited, hoping that she would get a response. After a few minutes she heard the telltale chirp of a new message. “Assuming this is not a cruel joke, how would you even prove this? How can you prove you are really my sister?” Marisse leaned forward to read it, finding herself leaning more than she had before. It took her a moment to process the sentence, a good portion of the words garbling in her head almost as badly as her English was to those around her. What? Why was her sister typing like that? Was she drunk? It seemed strange that her sister would act in such a way, though it did help to explain why she had hung up on Marisse. A flash of frustration spawned at the back of her throat. This was a matter of life and death, and here she was having to baby each step out for her ingrate of a white girl sister. Marisse could not help but let out a sigh as she tried to figure out a proper response. Sitting there, Marisee could feel her temples throb to the rhythm of her returning frustration. It was like no one got her anymore. Were people really so petty? Part of her generalized it to the West, but she did realize something. She had not reached out to people from the East yet either. The thought struck her with a flicker of hope. It was an avenue she had not pursued. Maybe the irony of her escape would be that the people of her captor's culture would be the ones to set her free. As she looked up to the computer though, she realized that while all the programs were in Chinese, every game she had played had been rigged for a Western server or demographic. Maybe if she- “I’m blocking this account if you do not reply right now you sonofabitch.” Marisse turned back to the Skype window, brushing back a lock of sweat soaked hair, and began typing. As she did she could feel the keyboard grow greasy from her sweat and excess oil, unaware her body paled in comparison to the keyboard. That pair of undergarments were already damp and nasty from the heat at that. Had she been able to wear anything else she might have found the rest of her outfit in a very similar state. And yet part of her enjoyed it. It was a small part of her, but growing. Perhaps in response to wanting to rebel against “Western” standards, or maybe it was a pain/pleasure response mechanism. It was hard to say. But one thing was for sure, Marisse’s soul was taking a turn for the perverse, step by step, with a growing smile on its face every bit of the way. A small burp escaped her lips as she leaned in further, her softer ass shifting about on her cheap, sweat-soaked seat. It was becoming a bit more of a bother than it was worth to read everything - not just because she was quickly losing the capacity to understand everything, but because of the remnant blurriness. Her body put in terms she’d have understood before being kidnapped, was fucked twelve ways to Sunday. The chemical cocktail that was circulating through her body, constraining and eroding the things keeping her her while feeding and augmenting everything to keep her where JadeTech wanted her to be had done just a bit of damage to her vision - her corneas were being slowly damaged, leaving everything past a few meters blurred. On one hand, JadeTech likely wanted their hackers shackled to their computers - there was no need to go out anywhere else… But on the other hand, they didn’t want them blind. That’s what the glasses were for… Something Marisse was just finding out. ‘No camera to see me.’ she thinks. ‘Sister does not see the me of me, too.’ There was no need for her to keep up appearances if she wasn’t being watched, after all - she could put on the glasses, presuming they’d help… And, lo and behold, they did. They were a bit much for her, as her captors had no accurate way of telling how fast her sight would decay, but they allowed her to get her face away from the screen. Her breath was fogging it up, anyway. “ask marrise things” she replies. “only marise know” It was the obvious course of action - if she knew something only she’d know, she was fine. After all, it worked in the movies, whenever they had to tell if someone was a clone. She smiles and reclines in her seat, placing her box of food upon her breasts and spreading her legs. Though she knew she should probably panicking, freaking out about JadeTech discovering her… She felt comfortable. The food made her feel content and gassy. The pungent scent of gas and sweat made her feel horny. The horniness made her feel hungry… And now she had the worst thing any procrastinator could possibly have: a plan B. She had no reason to devote all of her effort into play A, securing rescue by way of her sister, if she had a plan B, after all. Said plan B was reaching out to the…Locals. Probably not her neighbors, but easterners - sure, a handful of them got her into this mess in the first place, but at least they were doing something. All she’d gotten from the west were excuses and idiocy, even from her family. Hell, if she gets out of her with no help from her family, she won’t even go back to them! Yeah, that’ll show them! She could start a new life when she got back home, or maybe she wouldn’t go back at all and… She stops herself. Even though she… Did feel an impulsive desire to see that plan though, she was still lucid enough to realize it’d just defeat the point of escaping if she didn’t go home. With a sigh, and a scratch of her armpit, she awaits her sister’s response. Her eyes felt like there was a film over them, keeping her from being able to see just right. It was annoying, much like everything of late. All Marisse wanted to do was sit back, eat, sleep, and, oh yeah, escape! She shook her head of the concern, rubbed her eyes once more in vain effort to make her vision work, and tried to get back to the task at hand. With the glasses on however, her vision was just fine oddly enough. Marisse pondered the convenience for only a moment, after all, everything else had been controlled by them, why not that too? A snort escaped her widening nose as she looked over the entirety of her conversation, and the lack of its results so far as another message appeared. "The scar on my left foot, where did I get it and how?" Every passing moment of this conversation was becoming more and more of a hassle for Marisse. Was her sister so untrusting? The desire to eat and maybe kick back for a few hours grew all the more appealing as her options became more available in her mind. Maybe she could snack a bit, watch some youtube, maybe open a bit of porn and- What? Marisse waited for her mind to reply, as if she was entitled to some sort of justification. But nothing came. She wanted to look at pornography. Simple as that. She sat there, the realization oddly…liberating. It had never really been an interest of her growing up. After all, pornography was typically seen as a “guy” thing. But here she was debating it. Well not even that, she outright wanted it. The growing warmth between her legs further decreased her patience with the current conversation. Of course, the combination of frustration and arousal was not doing her body or mind any favors. It felt like the room had grown warmer over the past few minutes, her body sweating more as a result. The smell of her body odor was growing quite potent of late as her unshowered body continued to ferment in her own self made juices. Inside of her, her sweat glands had swollen in size to compensate as a strange side effect of her treatment. Her other glands had grown as well, salivary, pituitary, and the like. Of course, this was far from the only change that was progressing. That stubble under her arms and between her legs had only grown more dense, the hair actually growing in thicker and quicker than before. Not inhumanly quick granted, but far more than most people out there, with her testosterone sensitivity spiking and causing her hair follicles to activate in many regions of her body, be it her crotch, under arms, forearms, legs, or even about her areola, it would guarantee that she would be too “unsightly” to want to leave her newfound job for something more public oriented anyway. There was too much to type. Even at one question it bothered her. “When did we find that squirrel nest?” Another question. Great. What next, a blood test? Maybe a pledge of allegiance? She sighed and found herself looking to the headset. The idea of talking while having her hands free to eat was appealing, but what if her sister got upset again? The convenience, or more realistically laziness, was getting the better of her at this point though. Well fuck her if she got upset. She should have more patience! Marisse… Took her time in responding. She didn’t indulge her desires fully, after all, she didn’t know if she had reliable access to a browser, and as such simply sat doing… Nothing. She ate, rubbed herself a little, and simply allowed herself to fester. It felt nice, comparable to how she’d felt when she climbed into bed after taking a hot shower. Not that a hot shower would feel terribly nice to her now, of course. Her mind was active, even if her body was not - she was thinking back to her childhood, where she figured these questions were from… She couldn’t be terribly sure, with how oddly her sister was writing them. Maybe she shouldn’t be doing this while her sister was drunk… Whatever. If she was too drunk to understand, it was her loss. “you jump in leaf heap from top of home, at first home we life at” she responds to the first question, grumbling softly. She takes a swig of water, finding herself running out… She breaks away from responding to look for another bottle of water, or something to sate her thirst… Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything else. Anything… Except the vodka, and she wasn’t about to crack into that. By now her workstation was littered with the three emptied boxes of takeout and almost-empty bottle of water. Something about it… Makes her smile. Well, it delights her a little - the look of focus on her face kept her from smiling. It took visible effort to decypher the second question, and even more to type it. It was becoming more trouble than it was worth, she thinks. “in” she types, before pausing. She knows where she found the nest… But she forgot the name of it. The… Thing that’s above the fireplace. The thing on the roof. The… “Shit, fuck fuck fuck…” she grumbles, slamming one hand beside her keyboard, making the lighter objects on her desk jump a little. “in hole above fireplace” she sends. “we look for chrissmas man” She sighs. It’ll have to do. In her lounging, taking her sweet time, she failed to notice the clock slowly ticking by… Only as she waits for her sister to reply does she notice it, and remembers: she has a deadline. In her ‘haste’, she forgot that she still had work to do today. Hurriedly, she sends off a quick message. “good???? have no time plesae” Sure, her work was easy… But it was unreliable. If her inquisitive sister kept barraging her with questions, she could miss it! Who knows where she’d end up next if that happened? The thought of failing JadeTech struck the girl a bit more than the thought of her having to start working on escaping anew. A few more minutes went by, still no response. Fuck! She had not time to deal with this. She needed to- "What do you need from me?” Marisse looked at the message, staring at it until it made sense to her. Help? Was she finally going to get help? It was too good to be true. But she had to go for it right? With a grunt she moved to respond, her brain finding the words much like an old man trying to reclaim lost glory, or in other words with little results. However, she did not need to worry about it for long. As she began to type the screen suddenly cut to a blue screen. It was not long before she heard a familiar noise. Turning around she saw that familiar gas hissing through the vents. The gas began to fill the room and quickly Marisse began to feel herself losing consciousness. Dipping into the blackness she vaguely recalled the warning on the slip of paper she got initially, but then, nothingness. Anonymous 02/03/17 (Fri) 03:51:30 No.1771 Much like the previous times she was under, there really was not dreaming, but rather a feverish haze as she broke in and out of the blackness of her drugged sleep. As she slept her captors went back to work, punishing her behavior/attempt to escape accordingly. In the recesses of her consciousness she could have sworn someone was talking to her, the taste of alcohol kissing her tongue and burning across her throat. It seemed to hit her like a truck, sending her into a heavy buzz within minutes. The stuff tasted almost like straight ethanol. The burn that rolled down her throat was oddly erotic, like she was purging her insides with a cleansing fire in compensation for her inability to clean herself up on the outside, unaware that it was far more a corruption than a cleansing. With her addictive center hyper activated, it only took the one sip to hook her into wanting, no, needing to experience that taste again. Given the rest of her changes though, she would quickly build a tolerance for the stuff, leaving her needing more and more in the vain, but ever needing pursuit for that first high. It was a habit that spread to almost all of her desires, be it sexual, physical, or mental, her binge personality entrenching itself permanently into her system. The vodka, much like everything else, was laced with its own devastating drugs. The main change these drugs seemed to focus on was the inebriation of desires. That further erosion of self control was complemented now with a spike in her pleasure centers, forcing her to prioritize whatever made her feel good over the intellectual or philosophical gains of rational decisions. Similar mental changes happened elsewhere in her mind. Marisse’s English was nearly entirely shattered, her mind breaking heavily into Cantonese almost on default, but never enough to keep her from feeling like she could try to speak in English. If anything, her growing self righteousness only made her more confident in her lacking abilities. While she was quickly losing her ability to speak her once native language, her memories remained intact, including the audio. Whenever she would recall her past now, it would be even more foreign than before, the words making little sense and the people so…different from her new way of thinking. Likewise, her mental sieve was now further weakened, while her compulsive swearing and vulgarity all the worse. In spite of the “swap” in languages she was experiencing, her vocabulary in her new language was no where near as refined, leaving her extremely disrespectful and poorly articulated even in text. All of those calories she had accumulated over that day hit her as well, swelling out her body and taking it further away from the in shape, lithe version of her former self. Now she looked like an out of shape, bloated slob of a woman, drenched in sweat and reeking of flatulence, musk, and body odor. Her stomach spilled over to either side in heavy, quivering love handles that had expanded enough to create the beginnings of a roll on either side of her body. While her breasts had not grown very much, her ass was easily taking the brunt of the gain, swelling out behind her and endowing her with cheeks that befit her sedentary, slothful persona. Cellulite and dimples now dotted that rear end as well as her newly formed saddlebag thighs further demonstrating how there was no muscle under that lard, just flab. Throughout the evening the sounds of her bones popping and cracking into place could be heard as she became more heavy set in her bone structure, her shoulders widening and her facial features growing more prominent. Even her hands and feet had swollen, looking more masculine than feminine now, with dark hairs starting to grow about her knuckles. Even her teeth grew larger and more slab like, growing crooked here and there as her upper teeth seemed to slant slightly outwards, pressing against the inside of her swelling lips and giving her a very apish sort of look, not to mention impeding her articulation a bit. It was not until the heavy knock of that familiar morning greeting came about that Marisse even stirred at all. “Jiāofù!” She could hear another bag thud against the floor outside, but the drowsiness was still weighing her down, and it was another few hours before she awoke again, stiff, hungry, and oddly aroused. To say the call from outside the door was the first thing to greet her would be inaccurate. The first thing she felt when she woke up was regret. She’d been close to getting out of this godforsaken place before, with the admin… But never this close. She convinced her sister that she was real - that she needed help, and her sister was offering to give it… When JadeTech stepped in. She didn’t want to deal with what she was feeling - she just wanted to sleep all day, all night… But, her roaring stomach kept her from doing that, the yawning chasm within forcing her awake. Who rose from the ratty, thoroughly stained and sticky mattress wasn’t quite Marisse - they bore only a pale reflection in body. Their features were clearly of Asian descent, and quite coarse… A little homely, even. Their body was soft - what muscle their comparatively thin upper body had in weeks past had long-since atrophied, while their lower body was thick and chubby. Their skin was a deep goldenrod, blacked-out by dense hair upon their crotch and belly and beneath their arms, with somewhat sparse coatings upon their legs and arms, and even ass. Of course, their frame was all but graceful as well, uncoordinated and dazed. For as little resemblance as they had to Marisse, they were Marisse. Though she’d been stewing her own miasma of sulfuric gas and foul sweat, her somewhat-wide nose never quite got used to it… It still hung just as thickly in the air as it’d be to someone standing beside her… The only difference was that she’d grown to like it. Her rise from bed is noisome - the mattress creaks, her ass rumbles with gas, and her mouth rambles with curses, her lips every-so-often loosing a spray of spittle. She lumbers for the door, her glassy eyes missing much of the no-doubt poorer apartment around her, throwing the door open and looking outside - surely her package had to be out there. Her thoughts ran like a checklist, ordered, neat, and with little segue in between. ‘Get package.’ ‘What's the point?’ ‘Look at room.’ ‘What's the point?’ ‘Look in mirror.’ ‘What's the point?’ ‘Look at computer.’ ‘What's the point?’ ‘Work.’ Opening the door, she was indeed greeted with another bag of goodies. Well, not quite a bag. Where she had been given plastic bags before this was outright a sack in size. It took her a moment to heft it up, the weight of it taking her by surprise. As she brought the thing in, the floorboards beneath her creaked loudly. A thick aftertaste lingered in her mouth, leaving her throat dry and irritable. The room was a trashy piece of filth, with rotting, mildew soaked carpet that reeked ominously and cracked drywalls on every side of her. There was no bathroom at this point, just a small closet with no doors where a toilet and a mirror had been installed. A small wash basin sat in the corner of the closet to serve as hew new sink. There was a window still, but now it was set higher up on the wall besides her mattress, as if she was now on a lower level. Walking over to it she confirmed it. She was on the ground/lower level of the building. Outside she saw a sidewalk. Across the trash littered street was a T intersection, the bottom stroke leading away from her and allowing her to see the slum of a city that had become her new residence. Every so often someone would pass her by, but sadly the window appeared to be sealed shut, even if the glass and insulation was so poor she could hear every car or bike pass by. Thick tendrils of sweat soaked hair flopped about as she bent over to look over her bag. Her mane of hair was now both longer and thicker, resulting in a tangled mass of a rat's nest that spilled over her shoulders and danced about her lower back. Had she a comb, Marisse might have been able to pull off quite the look, but as it stood now, she looked more like a display on evolution than something conventionally appealing. Her thicker eyebrows and brow ridge and large cheekbones gave her an unrefined look that would have ostracized her from her family, had they been able to see her look now. Still, it did not bother her, at least from what she could see. As she poured over the bag she felt her body slosh and jiggle in ways she had never experienced before. Her thick thighs mashed together, each rubbing against each other and sending soft ripples up to her globular ass cheeks whenever she took a step. It felt good, even erotic. In her mind Marisse’s sexuality had continued to warp and corrupt with her changing brain. It was as if her entire sexual being was turning inward, her interests focused on self stimulation, exasperating and indulging in her personality and physical attributes as opposed to being in a relationship with some man. In other words, her sexuality was becoming almost as self centered as the rest of her, much to the benefit of Jadetech. After all, a woman that could care less about finding a date so long as she could have a good time with herself, or at someone elses expense online, is unlikely to wander far from her work/residential space. Inside the bag was essentially the same thing as before, except there was easily triple the amount. Sifting through the items Marisse spotted the cheap fold out table that served as her all purpose counter space, and lazily lumbered over to it to empty the bag’s contents out into the open. More noodles, more water, more vodka, cigarettes, that crappy Asian candy again, and so forth. Nothing exciting, but given how her stomach was still churning, she was grateful for the quantity, even if reluctantly so. Also on the table was her laptop. Inspecting it closer it actually seemed to be the same laptop as yesterday, or at least the same model. It would be cruel irony if they had gone through all that work to punish her escape attempt only to dangle the computer with her Skype account still active on it before her eyes. But, it did not matter. All that mattered was getting something to eat for the moment, and maybe something else if it struck her. To any onlooker, Marisse seemed to be every bit of a robotic thrall as JadeTech wanted her to be. She was running on autopilot, arms and legs moving on their own and eyes glossed over and dull. Only when she reached her table, when she hefted the bag up onto it and began to rifle through it did she regain some semblance of autonomy. She blinked once, twice, then a few more times rapidly, running her larger hand through her sticky mess of hair and holding it there… For as moist as it was, it felt oddly dry at the same time, but not-so-oddly hot. For as much as she’d changed, she still seemed to have some smarts left in her. She rationed out her counter space to give herself enough room to comfortably use the laptop but have easy access to her stuff. A carton of food, a bottle of water, a bottle of vodka, the pill bottle, and the candy bars. The excess, plus the cigarettes, remained on the floor in the bag. Unfortunately, she’d lost most of her… Rewards. The can of compressed air, the glasses, and the flash drive. The only thing that’s remained were the panties… Simply by virtue of them remaining on her as she’d been unconscious. Soaked in days’ worth of sweat and her own juices, they’d grown dingy and yellowed, a stain especially noticeable at the very front. She plopped down and took a swig of water to wet her whistle and popped a pair of pills to get rid of the migraine hammering inside her skull. She gave a scornful look to the Skype window and shut it - it was just there to taunt her. Nothing more. Today, she didn’t give a shit about escaping. Whenever she thought about it, it pissed her off… Be it from bad memories, or subconscious conditioning. Today, she was going to look into these assholes that were keeping her - her screensaver had something written in Cantonese, and every care package came with a note. She’d read those, then she’d check out the internet… To see if she couldn’t find anything to sate her growing lusts with. Sighing, she digs the letter out and reclines in her chair - one hand on the letter, the other shoveling noodles into her noisily-chomping mouth. Everything felt sluggish to Marisse, her movements, her thoughts, even her reactions. It was all a foggish haze. The only things that seemed to take her out of that haze was her stomach, her crotch, or whenever something bothered her enough, leaving her otherwise in a sort of soup of her own sweat and laziness. However, when she did regain her focus, her movements were clumsy and blunt, her coordination shot and further making her look like a bumbling oaf with those enlarged mitts that were hands. Her panties were grungy and slightly crusty, grinding against her crotch as she moved about, stimulating her inadvertently and making her heart flutter from time to time as she went about her breakfast. The letter in her hand had suddenly crumpled inside the bag, but the message was still clear. The English section was very hard to make out, making Marisse think that it was some sort of Engrish mishap this time around. As she ate flecks of food and spittle would escape her mouth occasionally, the changing woman mouthing out each word as she found herself reading the Cantonese with only reasonable difficulty. In her mind it actually looked effectively like English, leaving the letter looking more like a poorly typed mess throughout rather than two distinct sections. Much to her chagrin she found that it was essentially the same thing as the original English section, but with one notable difference. “At this point there is no turning back. Welcome to our family. You can try to escape if you so please, but you will find yourself no longer welcome in your land. Embrace Jadetech and your new destiny and Jadetech will take you in with open arms.” It was too much effort to argue with the letter, she just wanted to eat. But putting down the letter and opening the browser online, she still wanted to see just what Jadetech did exactly, all the while sucking down noodles casually. The browser seemed much more familiar to her now than the previous days, as if something had changed in the settings to put more of it in “English.” Lifting her hands to the keyboard she began to search for Jadetech but paused. Would that count as an escape attempt? No, it couldn’t, right? She shook her head of the concern, feeling that thick hair bat against her and flick specks of sweat onto the computer screen. Marisse leaned forward to wipe it off with a fat thumb only to spread noodle grease over the display. Fuck it. Jadetech Industries. It did not occur to her until much later that she had typed that phrase on the Chinese keyboard with no real struggle. The browser popped up in Chinese of course, but she could make out enough of it to figure out where to go. After a few minutes she learned the following: -JadeTech was known as a private contractor for digital services. -While they dispute these claims, the company has been accused multiple times in the past for hacking, defrauding, and stealing wealth through the internet. -No Jadetech employee has ever been convicted for any crime associated with the company. -Lawsuits tend to disappear after only a few days. It was not surprising, given how shady her circumstances alone were. But it did not bode well for her predicament. She was dealing with crooks through and through in the end, but one thing still did not add up. Why did they kidnap her specifically? This thought was cut off as she let out a rather long, unladylike fart from her still fattening ass, the trumpeting sound echoing throughout the cheap room and the vibration making her lick her lips instinctively before she caught herself doing it. Damn, even the smallest things were distracting. “Shit.” she grumbles, picking a sauce-laden water chestnut off of her greasy breasts, popping it into her mouth. Her sweat gave it a noticeable marinade, and not one that was wholly unpleasant to the changed woman. More sauce, and the occasional veggie or piece of noodle was dripping down onto her body, breaking from the chopsticks she now otherwise expertly ate with due to the speed at which she ate. The laptop was clearly the one she’d used yesterday… Or, well, whenever it was that she’d been conscious last. The keyboard was a bit greasy, and a small, sticky circle of orange sauce remained just beneath the keyboard, where she remembered spilling some. It didn’t seem to have been wiped, either - it still had the filename of the news article from the flash drive in its recent history, but of course she couldn’t open it. The fact that it’d… Followed her struck her oddly - she felt a sense of almost… Kinship with it, that it was connected to her. Even the greasiness and stains made it seem more hers. Even with the pills abating her migraine and the rheum rubbed out of her almond-shaped eyes, it was still difficult for her to read everything, forcing her to squint and lean in more and more. Part of her wondered why she didn’t look into JadeTech sooner… Even if she was hell-bent on escaping, knowing her enemy would’ve benefitted her. Well, it wasn’t like her glancing search helped any. All she got were the same things she’d discovered on her own - that they were hackers, and that they could make people… Disappear. In all, it only left her with more questions than she began. “No good, shit fuck.” she spits, taking a swig of water. Well, at least it confirmed one thing - that she did have internet access. She dug through the bookmarks - mostly proxy sites, a few websites and wikis for the games she was supposed to spam, and a few general interest sites - just to see what they wanted her to access, and then checked a few sites she could roughly recall to see what she could access. Here, she had a little trouble… She could remember the names, but hardly make sense of them. She lets out a loud belch after polishing off her first box of the day. She giggles a little, husky and a little rasped, before delving back into the bookmarks. A little folder marked ‘Xiànzhì jí’ stood out. Her eyes widened a little, and she gulped, for the first time not because she had a mouthful of food. “It…” she begins, biting her lower lip. “Porn.” Part of her felt… Relieved. It was like a reward - she wouldn’t have to just sit like this, bored and horny every day… But, it could just be something to keep her mind on her work instead of on more… Carnal things. Whatever the case, she clicked on the first link without a second thought, finding herself immediately on a homepage - a search bar sat just above a series of numbers, most likely counting the number of images on the site. Above it were a few tabs in Cantonese - ‘images’ and ‘tags’. Reluctantly, her hand, somewhat covered in sauce, slips down the tight border of her panties, past her dense thatch of pubes and across her lower lips. She flinches as she touches them, feeling their slickness, both from her sweat and… Other things. She didn’t need a justification for this - she was horny, and she wanted to get off. That’s all there was to it. The stickiness of the congealing food plopping onto her body occasionally only furthered to wreck her appearance. Had she been able to take a step outside her changes and look at what she had become she might have fled in terror. Sitting there, Marisse continued to chew at her food noisily, gnashing at the starchy, cheap food with her larger, slightly yellowed teeth as she stared apathetically at the dingy laptop screen that had become more of a window to her than the plate of glass leading outside. The thick cotton that had formed over her mind seemed unshakable, leaving her sluggish and lethargic mentally and physically while her growing perversion left her body in a soupy warmth of arousal that itched at her attention nearly constantly, skewing her priorities. It felt sexy to act such a mess. Intellectually she knew it was wrong, although part of her mind questioned that, but she could not deny the sensations she was experiencing. Her heart fluttered as felt those beats of lukewarm sweat roll down her bloated, greasy curves and pool underneath her ass and thighs on that chair, or soak into the undersides of her breasts. Whenever she would sputter out a rivulet or glob of saliva while opening her maw to eat or speak, she could feel a slight shudder run up her spine. The porn site had everything under the sun, or so it seemed at first, most of the categories making little sense to her. However, as she continued to look for something to indulge, she realized something. All of the videos and images were of women. Sometimes they were just one woman, sometimes many, sometimes it was a point of view shot but always from that of the fairer sex. Where was the cock?! Marisse felt herself snort in disgust, but found her eyes lingering over those supple curves, the smooth legs of those thin, well kempt women. If only she could grind herself against something as silky smooth as that woman’s flesh then she- What? The thought, much like everything else happening to her, was completely natural. Her thighs clenched as she felt herself tense pleasurably at the fantasies rolling in her mind, almost uncontrollably so. Her fingers dipped between her thickened nether lips, finding them dewy and slightly sticky, something she had not been accustomed to before. In reality, the changes she was experiencing were to thank for that, her body effectively producing more of any type of mucus or liquid, along with, well, seemingly everything else be it hair, weight, or melanin. But Marisse did not care. Her eyes locked onto a video of two Asian women scissoring on a large King size bed inside some fancy looking hotel room, her eyes glazing over as she starting snorting and grunting, her hand working harder as she slipped inside herself or paused to grind her large, rough greasy thumb over her clit hungrily. This pattern repeated over and over, the woman coming in and out of orgasm like some sort of stupor. It was not until she finally glanced down at the clock that she realized it was already almost half past 3pm! Like a teenage boy discovering porn for the first time, she had blown away the majority of her day indulging her sex drive and still was unsatiated, unaware that her libido was much like her appetite. Essentially, if she had food or erotica in front of her, she would indulge in it almost compulsively, though not without any control, at least some of the time. The miasma of sweat, gas, and pussy that hung around her was like the scent of roses to the warped girl, absentmindedly hilling off, tweaking her clitty and plunging one or two fingers into her sopping gash, every so often giggling dazedly. Only the timer broke her from her lustful reverie, reminding her that there was still work to be done. Even if she didn’t want to do it, failing would result in her getting dragged somewhere else… She wouldn’t be able to finish herself off if she did. If she worked, she could… Enjoy herself a bit more, and who knows… Maybe she’d get a reward. More and more she looked forward to them with her addled mind - instant gratification mixed with the vague desire to be rewarded for a job ‘well’ done made them seem sweet as honey. Pulling her fingers from her pussy, nudging her thighs together to keep herself… Ready in the meantime, she drags them across her keyboard and heads into the start menu, booting up one of the games she’d been banned from and hopping on to another account. There were dozens set up for her - after all, JadeTech wasn’t dumb. They had to expect her to get banned… ‘<What great foresight.>’ she mentally notes, of course in Cantonese. A lithe, sylvan Elf popped into the game world, rattling off the same message as before for all the hub-world to see. A wry grin spread across her lips as she went into the options and turned on ‘windowed’ mode. She could recall seeing it… Back when she could easily read English, but got lost a few times before she found it again. She resized it to cover one half of her screen, and dragged her browser to cover the other - she was multitasking! Part of her felt… Proud of this sense of industriousness. She reclined in her seat again, looking at the blurry little chat window for the telltale color of a PM to pop up and watching her little counter climb as she idled, every so often using the hand that wasn’t busy delving into her cunt to move her slim little avatar so that she wouldn’t get kicked for being away from her keyboard… She wasn’t going to be away for a long, long time. A few hours pass - it’s only a half-hour after she begins that she cums, soaking her underwear liberally in her juices, a trumpeting fart accompanying the otherwise silent release. She doesn’t stop until she’s finished again, and again… By the time her quota draws near, she’s shouting from her fourth climax, her chair is drenched and her stomach is rumbling again. “Yes…~” she huskily, tiredly coos. “Done… Today…~” Immediately her hand slips from her underwear and reaches for her food… But pauses. Her hand is completely glazed… A little pruny too, and is simply radiant with the reek of her cunt. Another wry, lustful grin spreads across her lips as she pulls it back toward her face, licking it off and thrumming contentedly. The part of her that felt disgusted for doing all of this to the sight… And to the thought of other women was slowly quieted. She justifies it that it’s all she had… But it’s certainly more than that, and getting even more profound with every moment she spends… Indulging. Unlike last time, the responses she was getting in the game from other players made little sense. Unaware that it was a problem on her in, in her ability to actually understand it, it left Marisse feeling like she was dealing with idiots, furthering her stereotype against Western players.But that snide confidence sent a flutter of arousal that burned lightly in the pit of her stomach. Knowing she was better than these other people, it was a turn on in of itself. Perhaps it was a defense mechanism to manage her current situation, that or a product of her changes. It was hard to say. But in either case she definitely was developing a sexual connection to her own ego. Realizing that she was sitting there slack jawed, drooling slightly over her fattened lip and onto her collarbone, she slurped noisily back into focus, the noise making her blush slightly both in embarrassment and in arousal once more. Was she so much a mess that she was practically defaulting to such a slovenly state? The taste of her own cum still lingered on her tongue. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, an flicker of concern was blooming. She was still slightly aroused, like some sort of perpetual baseline that she would never fully escape, in spite of climaxing four times already. And they were not even casual orgasms, but body wracking, time distorting explosions that sent her into load moaning, yelling climaxes that rocked her world. The animal that was her sexuality had been awakened and it seemed like it too was a glutton of a pig. There was a thud from the wall in front of her, accompanying by muffled moaning. Now Marisse finally understood the noises. If everyone else was like her, corrupted and twisted by this foul place, perhaps everyone around her was also imprisoned by their own compulsive need to masturbate. The horror of it was lost on her however as the realization spawned images of masturbating women in her mind, making her hand slip down absentmindedly between her legs once again before she drew it back. With her quota fulfilled though, there was nothing left to do but eat, get off, and sleep. So effectively the same as she had been doing all afternoon. Even though she had spent all day glued to her chair, she was not sore or even cramped, asides from the ache of her physiological transformation of course. As she leaned over to grab for her dinner she heard the sickening suction of her skin peeling off the cheap seat in front of the table slightly, releasing more pent up stink into the air. The package of noodles was cold and greasy, but satisfying enough for now. The computer was her only activity now, so naturally she turned back to it. This time she turned on the porn without thinking about it, having it take up the right side of her screen. On the left she decided to look over her program files. After a moment she found an IRC program. She had heard about such things before, essentially just chat rooms that were more popular in the past than today, but, it was there for some reason right? A day like this was exactly what she needed to get her head straight - there wasn’t any need to stress over her previous failures… She’d put it out of her mind, take time to act like a good little puppet to JadeTech, calm down, and collect herself before trying again. She had a whole other half of the world to aid her, after all, and she had the gut feeling they’d be much more receptive to her cause. Marisse gave a mix between a moan and a sigh, minimizing her game. It could keep running and she’d get a few hits to her quota for the next day - she didn’t need to talk to everyone, after all. Then, tomorrow, she’d just have even more time to get off! Or… Escape. Yeah, that. She slurped up a bundle of noodles, using the fresher sauce upon them to re-moisten that which was congealing in the higher reaches of the box, leaning in toward the computer again, her shifting ass giving a blast of fluctuating pitch. Her eyesight was much poorer today than it’d been the last time, and the fact she was suffering through it without the glasses this time wasn’t making it any better. The IRC program had a familiar icon - a letter with a fedora on it, one she could recall seeing during one of her earlier days. Her memories now largely consisted of… Shapes, sounds, sensations, rather than words or thoughts. Even her mind’s eye was growing blind. Her laptop fan gave an almost angry roar as it booted up yet another program… Or, rather, several in succession. Five windows popped up, reading ‘CONNECTING…’ in English, but disappearing quicker than she could read them. Proxies, most likely, to keep her and anyone else using it from being stumbled upon and traced. Just who else was on here that’d require that much security? Jade130012 has connected. Jade115491: <Scammed the pig good. Wanted to know if I was legit - what idiot sees our spam and thinks we’re giving them a good offer? Stupid westerners.> Jade114142: <I wouldn’t complain. We wouldn’t get any work done if they weren’t so stupid.> Jade115491: <Agreed, sister.> Jade122313: <Guess who just found out a certain someone has a mistress! It’d be a shame if his wife found out, no?> Jade114142: <Pics?> Oh, god. Was this… This was a channel for people like her. No, no - people who worked for JadeTech. The… Spammers, hackers, whoever they were. Were they people who’d been kidnapped like her? Were they actual employees? It… They were actual people, and she’d been investigating JadeTech anyway… It’d be best to treat them like they were serious about their jobs. Jade130012: hi Reflexively, she posts in English. Seeing those two letters, surrounded by characters of a language she’d begun to find more… Comfortable, made her cringe a little. Jade130012: <Sorry. Used to English. Hello.> It’s… A bit difficult to structure the sentences, even for the knowledge she’d gained of the language. She wrote slowly and clumsily, trapped in the border of learning one language and forgetting another. The longer she chatted with these other women, the faster her keystrokes became, her fingers gliding over the keyboard with a growing familiarity as her mind continued to almost magically rewired to better understand it while further distancing itself from an ability to speak solid English. Of course, she was making significant amounts of typos, grammatical errors, and the like, but she was learning fairly quickly. Jade115491: <Hello there. You new? Or just finally cave in?> Jade114142: <Gotta be the latter, how else would she understand any of this.> Jade115491: <Yo, you understand any of this or not?> It was a strange sensation. It was clearly not English, it did not look English, but the familiarity that Cantonese was taking in her brain gave it the same feel as English. It made sense in that quite literally her brain was being rewritten, so it was relatively the same information in the same place, just a new language. As such, it also explained why her memories were so foreign to her, as those memories were still encoded in English, which no longer made much sense to her. Marisse looked at the screen, watching the words drift in and out of familiarity much like how one can repeat a word too many times until it’s just a sound, but slightly in the reverse. Unfortunately for Marisse, everything she was doing to clear her head was actually only serving to make it worse. Her constant masturbation throughout the day only rose her heartrate, circulating her combo of drugs all the more while stimulating the pleasure and addictive centers of her brain and effectively luring the medication to it like a moth to a flame. Everything seemed to be tying back to her lidibo in some fashion. It was almost like she was a man! The chuckle she had expected from her old self did not come. More pounding came from above her this time, the ceiling creaking ominously from the force. Someone was having a good time. Turning back to the keyboard, the conversation had pressed on without her. Jade122313: <Of course I have pics, but I ain’t trading that shit without someone else to reciprocate. ;)> Jade115491: <Yeah yeah, we’ll get you some pussy pics one day, like you don’t have enough of that on the computer anyway right?> Jade122313: <lmfao> Jade114142: <lol> They seemed to know one another. How long had they been locked away here? Were they really like her? The questions continued to flow the longer she sat there, her chain of thought only interrupted as she let out another bombastic fart. Had she been paying more attention to those eruptions she might have noticed that she was beginning to have problems holding such expulsions back, be it flatulence or burping. It was like she was losing her ability to self control even those basic things. But it was not like she cared much, even her more rational section of her twisting persona knew she liked doing it, so she probably would not hold it back even if she could. Leaning in towards the screen she watched the conversation unfold some more. Every time Marisse moved she could feel her panties squelch about her crotch and ass crack, the sweat and nectar soaked garments a perverse mockery of what underwear should be about. Seeing as she had nothing else to wear, it was that or going on naked. But, there was something alluring about wearing that underwear. It was almost a trophy, a demonstration of just how vile she had, and was, becoming, alongside the testament to her champion-like sexual stamina. Over the day her pubic hair had actually grown, her follicle stimulation seemingly permanently spiked. While it was nothing superhuman, what had been stubble before and short curls this morning was becoming a rather unshaved, untamed bush that collected quite a bit of her own cum. Most of the conversation were sex innuendos, usually not too clever, as well as general venom against the West, or one upping each other’s comments. It was oddly philial in a way. Jade122313: <Think she passed out or something?> It took Marisse a moment to realize that the person was talking about her. She didn’t struggle to come up with a response - she snapped back quickly. Jade130012: <Not a chance, just busy. Let’s just say it’s not with work!> She raggedly chuckles at this. Innuendo… Just like them, and just like she wanted. Jade122313: <Right on!> Jade115491: <Nice, new girl.> Their positive response was… Welcome. It was like a reward in itself. It didn’t take any drug JadeTech could give her that made her want to be… One of the girls; just part of a group in general. That was just human nature. Jade129980: <Bet you’re chugging through the links they gave you, right? All vanilla shit. No offense to you, sister.> What? What’d she mean by that? It was… It certainly wasn’t her norm, if that’s what she was implying. Jade130012: <Vanilla?> Jade122313: <Boring. How can you stand it?> Jade130012: <It’s new to me, actually… And it’s all I have.> Jade129837: <Great, we’ve got a luddite.> What followed was a few minutes of silence… A silence that filled Marisse with a sense of uneasiness, though that could’ve just been gas. It wasn’t just she’d dropped off the topic of conversation - it was that all conversation stopped. Jade130012: <Did I say something wrong?> A moment later, she got her answer - she didn’t. There were only about 6 or so of her ‘sisters’ in the room, and all of them returned with a flood of links. Links to sites, galleries, single images, even a few folders for her to download. Part of her felt… Honored, even if the cause of it was that they all gave her presumably fetish porn. Jade129980: <Thank us later. Just don’t spend too much time with it.> Jade130012: <Don’t worry about me, I can multitask.> Her fan again protested as she filled up her browser with a handful of tabs, all to contain the… Donation she’d been given. She didn’t take time to look at any of them just yet, though, simply getting them up and stored for later. She prepares to open one of the folders when she hears a knock at the door and a soft thump - easily discerned from the thumping coming from upstairs. Marisse is loathe to part herself from her chair, and resultingly her new friends and new porn, but simply has to. Her skin once again gives a sound not unlike velcro as it’s pulled from the sticky chair, bones popping and cracking with every subtle movement, rubbing her eyes as if she’d just gotten up. A fart spills from her ass without her needing to force it, and a belch rises from her throat, forcing her to pat it to satiate the faint burning of the spicy chicken coming back up. There was something about letting out that gas as she went about her business that was even more erotic to her than just the act alone. That lack of control, that complete disregard of social expectation. She had become such a slob she freely jettisoned whatever was pent up without a second thought. Granted, it was becoming nearly uncontrollable, and likely would be given time, but that did not matter. The sheer deviancy from the Western ideal was profound. It was an addiction in of itself, and given how her own gaseousness seemed to becoming more frequent by the day anyway, it was a feature that she found herself almost embracing. Her stomach sloshed and wobbled with each footfall, the jiggle moving from her breast to stomach to ass, just a bit more than there was when she had awoken that morning. Marisse was actually starting to enjoy herself. Opening the door she found another bag. Inside was a bunch of stuff, much more than the meager candy bar from last time. Bending down to grab the bag, and feeling her stomach spill over her still sopping panties, she closed the door and went back into the room without even thinking about escaping for a change. She swept away the empty cartons and bottles on the table with a snort of annoyance before plopping the bag onto the exposed, but slightly food stained table surface. All the while the conversation in the chatroom continued to ping without her. The first thing that Marisse pulled out of the bag was a new pair of glasses. They were pretty thick, the frames black and made of cheap plastic, although the lenses were real enough, even if they did resemble magnifying glasses. Next was a box of those candy bars, like the kind that grocery stores put on shelves to stock an item in bulk. Great. After that she pulled out what looked to be a small bottle of lotion. There was no label on it, but the soft shelled container looked like it only held a few ounces. Lastly, Marisse found a clean, but slightly small looking cheap white tank top. She was officially one step closer to being fully clothed. Another ping prompted her to look back at the chat window. Marisse found herself grunting, chuckling, or even verbally responding to her peers even though no one could hear her. She must have looked deranged out of context. Along with this phenomenon, throughout the day Marisse's voice box had been expanding slowly, making her voice even huskier and less feminine than before. At this point no one that had known her before her kidnapping would have recognized her voice whatsoever, even disregarding the heavy Cantonese accent she had been developing throughout the day as well. Jade129980: <Hey new girl, how fucked up is your English yet?> Jade115491: <Yeah, try typing some English, I wanna see just how far our new comrade has fallen.> Jade114142: <Oh boo hoo, can't speak American Pig language, big whoop.> Jade115491:<Fuck, I hope they give us voice chat some point soon. Maybe we should add each other on Skype?> Jade114142: <And give the Western shitlords our information. No way!> Another thick fart erupted from her ass, those noodles making her way through her system pretty quickly at this point. She had not even realized the sun had already set. She actually laughed at the tank-top - it was too little, and comically too late. At this point she was more than comfortable being nude, which she suspected they wanted her to be… But, if it ever got cold, it’d be a good thing to have. A growing part of her mind remarked that it was just one more thing she could make hers… One more thing she could make as dirty as she is. As she tugs it on, it gives her the result she expected: it was too small for her, constraining her breasts and chubby curves, outlining them perfectly with as skintight as it was, and allowing a few inches of her chubby, stubbly belly to stick out. Almost amorously, she pats it. “<Don’t want to stay in, do you? Well, fine. Have it your way.>” The next thing she dons are the glasses - the last time she tried them on, they actually helped. Why they did, she didn’t bother thinking about, but just chalked it up to strain from staring at a computer for most of her waking day. They worked, like the tank-top, exactly as expected, though this time it was a delight that they did. She takes a quick look around the room, finally able to see across to the other side of it… Well, she wasn’t exactly missing anything when she was having trouble seeing. Regardless, she keeps them on, as they help her see her screen better. Now she didn’t have to lean in; she could recline to her heart’s content. Not to say she’d stop slouching any time soon. Seeing as she’d already polished off two of her boxes of food, she figures dessert is in order - one of the candy bars, the one she’d found with her initial bag of food. In addition… She brings over the bottle of vodka, looking at it longingly. All day, her eyes had been… Drawn to it. She’d licked her lips, her heart had started beating, and… She didn’t know why. Did she really want to try it that badly? She had no idea of the already-cemented addition worming about in her head. After polishing off the candy, loosing a long burp thereafter, she twists off the top of the bottle and takes a tentative sip. It burns her throat, clears out her sinuses and leaves a bitter taste in her mouth… But she smiles. She never drank before, and now she has no idea why. It was pretty good! She takes another sip before getting on the chat again, chuckling with glee. Jade130012: hi girl want fuckign burger??? Jade123310: <lol> Jade130008: <It’s like I’m actually talking to an American.> Jade130012: <And I still know more than half the players I’ve scammed. I think I might be the only exception to how unconditionally stupid westerners are.> It was… Odd, lumping herself in with the rest of them; the rest of the west. It was like willingly getting into the group of the slow kids in class. Jade114112: <You? A westerner? I doubt it.> Jade129980: <Who’d want to be, anyway?> Marisse doesn’t have to take a second to respond. Jade130012: <Not me.> She takes another drink of her vodka and turns away from the screen for a moment, picking up the small bottle of lotion. What was it supposed to do, and how was she supposed to use it, anyway? The bottle was blank - not even any Cantonese to guide her. Tentatively, she opens the bottle and squeezes a tiny bit out onto her fingers, rubbing them together and bringing it to her nose, taking a quick sniff. Already her undershirt had grown damp with sweat, most noticeably under her arms, where the white color had turned a dark grey. If it did anything of value, it was keep her hair from sticking to her - now the long, black, greasy tresses rested imply upon it, only clinging wetly to her head rather than her neck and shoulders. The thicker areas of her pubes had already begun to peek over the tight waistline of her stained, crusty panties, every so often scratched at. The lotion carried the aroma of what almost smelled like a mixture of coconut and almond. In other words, it was pretty conventional stuff. Marisse found her nose wrinkling at it, like the smell was not worthwhile anymore .It was not that it smelled bad to her. No, if anything it was pleasant and slightly nostalgic in some respects. But it was the emotion that came with it that bothered her. It was so conventional, just another slick marketing ploy for everyone to doll up and give into the American fist of conformity. Still, lotion was lotion, maybe it would be worthwhile? Given how little she got from her captors,there was little point in outright discarding it after all. It did not take long before the vodka started to make itself known in her system, the heavy buzz of the alcohol tingling at her judgment and further impairing her thoughtful decisions. It felt good though, to just let go. Much like everything else she had been doing today, there was a certain sense of freedom in drinking. Of course it was bad for her, but who gave a shit? She was enjoying herself. There was plenty of crap going on in her life right now, why should she not indulge herself? There was no argument from her more rational side this time. The constricting tank top quickly grew damp in her own sweat, working as an ill fated wash rag before becoming oversaturated over the following hours. Combined with the drippings of sauce and the like, the shirt was quickly "hers" before she even went to sleep. Having the shirt on put her slovenliness into context, making her seem even less sightly than without it. Marisse was not sure how long she chatted with the rest of those women, assuming they were women, but by the time she started to feel drowsy the foot traffic outside had perked up a bit, as if it was approaching early morning. Damn, and she still had her quota for today. She spent her night much like she’d spent her day - her character idling in the game, occasionally switching to another one to make herself seem less conspicuous, chatting with her newfound friends and moving her hands between her dwindling supply of food and her pussy. Empty boxes, bottles, and candy wrappers littered her table and a few had spilled down to her floor as well. The lotion joined them, lost in the trash. The porn she’d been given… Well, if the stuff JadeTech provided was exotic to her, this was completely new stuff entirely. A good portion of it was drawn, and absolutely had to be to get across some of the things they depicted… Bodies couldn’t do half the things they were doing. She only took a few tentative glances at them before hiding them… Rather than refuse them entirely, she figured she just wasn’t ready for them now. Otherwise, she felt like she was… Getting to know the others in the room, feeling like she was a part of it like all the rest. They were funny, and she knew damn well how much she needed human contact that didn’t end with her getting backstabbed or gassed by JadeTech. It wasn’t that she’d begun to get tired just as morning came - she’d been sorta groggy all day, and if she’d climbed back into her sticky bed she’d likely have slept for the rest of the day. What brought her attention to just how long she’d been up was that she’d begun to actually drift off. Her head bobbed a little, eyelids hung heavy, and a bit of drool dribbled from her slack jaw. Her Cantonese grew a bit sloppier over the day, especially as she drank - some of the others who popped in and out of the room seemed to be in the same state. Jade130012: <Falling asleep. Drunk. Going away for now.> Jade108412: <Aww! See you tomorrow, sister > Jade123314: <Sleep it off - just take a few pills in the morning.> Jade130008: <Want to play something tomorrow?> Play? What, did she mean the games? All they had were spam accounts… Well, all she had were spam accounts. Did the others have something different? Jade130012: <How?> Jade123310: <You have much to learn, sister!> Jade130008: <Just make an account like normal. They can’t stop you from doing that. It’s more fun than just using it to idle, y’know? Most of us play it, just post your character here. See you then~ > Sighing, she rises from her chair and smiles. She… Had something to look forward to, tomorrow. Before she goes to bed she grabs a candy bar to bring with her and quickly checks tomorrow’s quota… It looks like she was almost halfway done. Short of her sleeping the whole day away, she’d have ample time to finish her quota… Then maybe take the others up on their offer. Even if she ended up getting backstabbed in the end… It was actually pretty fun playing the game for once. With a grin, she plops into bed, her body jiggling from the sudden fall, and the metal frame creaking dangerously. Even though she hadn’t touched it all day, it still felt a little bit moist. With a plastic crinkle, she opens the candy bar and pulls the rough covers over her body. “Hmph.” she grumbles, taking a bite of it. “<Welcome to the family, indeed.>” Anonymous 02/03/17 (Fri) 03:51:52 No.1772 Overnight her arousal left her dreams perverse and her slumber restless, leaving her to wake up slightly groggy. Her head still felt like it was swimming from the vodka last night, but there was no true hangover. Throughout the night the candybar she had eaten had taken its toll on Marisse’s frame, thickening it out further with the calories punch and another cross against her metabolism in the long run. Ultimately she did not end up that much fatter, but rather she looked more out of shape, as if the fat in her body was truly “settling” into her body and planning to stay there for quite some time. It was clear at this point that Marisee was not going to go back to her normal self ever again. Even if she did somehow turn around her changing personality and get her lifestyle back in order, she was biologically built towards a certain level of disgustingness that would never leave her again. The irony was that the most wealthy aspect of Jadetech was solely used to fuel its other business. Had they actually utilized this amazing technique of transforming people, they could easily dominate the international economy. But, for now, they seemed content with turning women’s bodies and minds into their own self regulated prisons. The candy bar also continued to wreck through her digestive system some more, making her even more gassy, bringing her to almost a perpetual state of farting and belching and the like. Her body now seemed to constantly churn it up, at least to some extent. Throughout the evening the room fogged over with the reek of her own flatulence, further turning her on in her sleep while her own odor ingrained into what seemed to be her new home. By the time that she woke up she was soaked in a fresh slathering of sweat, her bladder was full from all the vodka she had taken in over night, and her mattress was all the more soiled by it all. Had she looked into a mirror she would have seen that her eyes had fully shifted to an Eastern influence, the upper lid losing its fold while her wide, broad nose and protruding lower part of her face made her look distinctly more southwestern Asian than the traditional Chinese/Japanese descent. Her full lips, slightly bucked teeth and rounded face had stripped away the graceful features that her cheekbones or eyes could have offered. Likewise her mane of black hair was both thicker and longer, leaving it more knotted and tangled than before, giving her an exceptional case of bed hair that was unlikely to go away without just plain cutting it. She would find that the hair on her body elsewhere had grown in longer and thicker as well, even spreading outwards more than before, like some sort of radiating infection. Little curls had sprouted up around her nipples and the like while what was already there on her body was filthy from the constant sweat and grime of her newfound habits. At least she was still in the same room. A heavy thud game from the door, “<Payment!>” The familiar crinkle of plastic slide against the door before her daily bag rattled against the floor. Marisse woke just a bit more easily this morning. It wasn’t like she’d gotten up on the right side of the bed this time, or that she woke up any less groggy, but this morning consciousness didn’t return with the gut-twisting feeling of regret or failure. Scratching her ass, covered in more than just stubble now, and letting loose a belch reeking of her halotic breath, she tosses her legs over the side of the bed and rises. She’s of course greeted to a few pops and cracks, but nowhere near as many as she’d experienced in the past few days. Her body; her bones didn’t change at all overnight, and that too left her without the sensation of stiffness. She did feel a few cramps coming on - her muscles, both naturally and artificially, were beginning to experience atrophy. This, and changes to her respiratory system, were especially clear as she made it to the other side of the room. She was… Panting a little, like she was out of breath, even if it wasn’t that long of a walk. Even if she did escape, she likely wouldn’t make it far on foot. Opening the door greeted her to another large sack like yesterday’s - a ton of everything she needed to get through the day. The fact that this was her… Payment just hit her, one part realizing they weren’t much paying her with anything else… And the other because she could finally understand what the guy bringing it was saying. It found a place on her table just atop all the trash from the day prior, displacing empty bottles and boxes she didn’t bother to pick up. As she’d done all this, she’d been doing it… Mostly blind. She’d left her glasses on top of her closed laptop, nabbing them as soon as she set out a new box of takeout for herself, and thereafter opening her computer. Today… Wasn’t really a big day, in terms of importance, but at least she had something to do. She firstly booted up the first game she’d played - just for the sake of finishing her quota, and spend the morning doing exactly that… And checking out her ‘sisters’ kind contributions. She was finding that some of their choices… Weren’t bad, not at all. The images that she was presented with, while still strange and exotic, did not have the shock factor that they had the previous night. Indeed, somewhere in her mind, that stew of drugs had corrupted her tastes all the more, desensitizing what turned her on somewhat while pushing her towards the extreme with renewed enthusiasm. Of course she would always be horny, that swtc had been flipped on in her mind and then broken off so it could not be flipped back off, but she was just too into herself, and people with her sorts of attributes and personalities, that everything else just seemed dull or stupid. While her pussy was practically dripping non stop, her tastes had shrunk down to almost stereotypically neophobic and classist standards. As she looked over the porn she realized that each person did have slightly different tastes, as evident by their little packages. Some of them were into really fat women, others into tentacle stuff, others anthro creatures. For Marisse though, she found herself gravitating to the disgusting and the ugly, the more of it the better. There was a good few of them in the collection, but it was not enough. Instead it lead her on a search online, sending her deeper and deeper into the armpit of the internet where she found increasingly more depraved and extreme works that fit her newfound interests. This of course lead her back into the feverish haze of compulsively masturbating again .Overnight she found that her pussy had changed somehow, not that it surprised her at this point. While she was not fully aware of everything that was happening to her, it was obvious that they were changing her from the inside out. In this case, her vagina was wetter than ever, thick honey dewing about her thicket of a bush, sopping at her underwear and the chair beneath her and reeking of her own arousal. When she would come to climax she found herself squirting heavily into the thoroughly ruined cloth. The respiratory changes she had incurred were indeed growing more profound. While she could still breath, she found herself panting, grunting, snorting and even wheezing for air from time to time, her cardiovascular system having turned to that of a decades long chronic couch potato at this point. She found that she had to breath out of her mouth most of the time, leaving her easily drooling as she sat in front of the computer. Similarly she found that the bag was stuffed with more food than yesterday, furthering to entrench her in the sedentary lifestyle. As she moved about unpacking everything she felt the hair under her arms and between her legs rustle against the soiled cloth of her outfit. Her pubes were clearly visible, puffing out her panties slightly as well as curling out of the waistband. The hair, having spread outwards, could now be easily seen from the leg holes of the underwear, that thicket of a bush having blossomed into a larger shrub evidently, spreading even backwards between her ass cheeks and the like. It was not until she noticed that it was 1:30pm already that she went back to multitasking mode once again. The fact noon was marching by didn’t phase her as much as it should - the night was still young, yet. She had at least until four in the morning until she was ready to go to bed, after all. It wasn’t all work she’d been doing during that time, either. Her quota was just under half-way fulfilled yesterday, so that just gave her more dedicated time to masturbate. She chugged quite quickly through the porn she’d been supplied… Finding it all just as the others had described it - vanilla, boring… Hot, but too tame and reserved. Eventually she gave up on it altogether. She more-studiously delved into her recent contributions, the links and folders… Some were interesting by virtue of their kinkiness, some by virtue of uniquety… Some from the voyeuristic thrill of knowing that the images were pulled right off of someone’s private computer by one of her new ‘sisters’. Part of her even envied them… Wanting to be able to bring someone else the new, sick kind of pleasure she was feeling. Marisse quickly closed the game she’d been using to run up her quota - she had one or two hits for the next day, but she didn’t care how many she got today. She could spend all day next day working… She almost wanted to. Plus, she didn’t want to clog up her CPU while she was playing something on her time! She booted up Warcraft as per usual… But this time, instead of selecting one of the gibberish accounts, she created a new one. It took a good half-hour before she decided on her character… There was so much that went into it. Race, class… She didn’t know anything about this, but the fact that it was something… Fun, and that her new friends were playing too, that made her want, more than anything, to learn. She picked… An Orc. A ghastly, angry, ugly, beast of a woman… So deliciously contrarian. Even if it wasn’t presented, she could almost smell her sweat, see the greasy sheen on her green skin… She couldn’t keep her hands off of herself. Not being one for magic, she just settled on being a warrior. Hitting shit into next tuesday aught to give her a few laughs, however nasally and marred with snorting they may be. Throwing the game into a smaller window, she pops back into channel with her… Sisters. She supposed they were, in a way. Jade130012: <Morning! Anyone want to play?> Jade122313: <About time you joined!> Jade130012: <Yeah, yeah. I’m… Ovani Fotak, in the game. Can you do anything with that?> Jade130000: wwwwwwwww Jade112784: <lol> Jade130012: <What?> Jade122313: <I didn’t know you knew Orcish already.> Jade130012: <I don’t.> Jade100313: <Then it’s even funnier!> Much of what they said was going far, far over her head - it was clear that they didn’t just play the game just to pass the time, they dedicated themselves to it. They knew it inside-out, story and gameplay, all of it… But they didn’t hold it over her head much. They all tried to teach her as best they could… And all the while, she started to see just why they loved it so much. She whittled away hours, playing with them, joining a little guild they’d set up for themselves… Even doing things in-character, even if she was really clumsy with it all. In-game, she was every bit the brash, foul-mouthed and generally foul beast she was on the other side of the computer, occasionally taking a sip of vodka and a bite of takeout, and not-so-occasionally perfuming the room with her sudden, wet belches and farts. Time was a fickle thing for the corrupted woman. Easily she would lose herself to the mind numbing pleasure of whatever caught her focus for the time, only to find that she had been much less efficient about her task than she had anticipated. The good thing was that her "job" was not all that dependent on her or her work ethic so much as she was needed as a warm both. In the end, Marrise was granted the life of a woman that would likely spend more time lounging about on her ass than anything else for the rest of her life, and she would not have it any other way. The world loaded up and Marisse was greeted with her orcish character standing in very little armor. But, it was novel to her, and that more than made up for her beginner's set. It made sense to her that they would be so dedicated. Asides from porn and Netflix, what else was there for them to do in their free time. She did not even know how long the group had been imprisoned, let alone how quickly they got on board with Jadetech's agenda. What had already become a rather rotten personality was only further fueled by the anonymity of the online game world. While in good spirits with her comrades, who helped her out, the lot of them quickly trolled, harassed, or berated anyone stupid enough to linger in their presence for long. There was little point in thinking about the outside world when she clearly had reign over in this one. It also helped that a couple of the girls pulled in their max leveled spam bots to power level her through much of the early game content, as well as give her seemingly limitless in game currency. This went on for quite a while until suddenly a pop up cut into the center of the screen. It was a Skype call. Marisse realized it must have been left on somehow. Likely part of the western marketing/spyware scheme so many mainstream programs used today, or so she thought. A small icon in the image showed her sister’s face, smiling in the classic posed camera picture sort of way. Marrise paused from the game for a second, telling her friends that she was going afk for a moment, before she quickly searched around the heaping pile of garbage she had accumulated throughout the day for her headset. She had one in every other room, so she figured she had knocked it on the ground or something. All the while the blip ring of the Skype call continued. Finally, plugging the headset jack into the audio slot, she clicked accept. “Hello? Are you there?” The voice rang through her head, disarming her momentarily. Trouble understanding or not, she knew her sister’s voice. And for a minute, she longed for home again. Well, she thought she longed for home. Did she? She thought about it. What was there to go back to anyway? Corporate America and the Western rigged game of misery? Living a life of wearing makeup and holding back her thoughts, or gas? Psh, fuck that. “Please, if you’re there answer.” Still, her sister was still her sister. Maybe she was an ignorant pig, but she was Marisse’s pig. Plus, maybe she could educate her sister and convert her to the correct side of the world…Marisse looked up at the screen to see that her sister’s camera was on, although Marisse only had her audio plugged in. Her options of communication were limited - now more than ever. If she typed out a response, it’d be more than just broken, and likely wouldn’t fare any better. Of course, she didn’t know this, or even really care. All she wanted to do was to get this over with so she can go back to playing with her real sisters. A part of her cringed, as she thought that. She… Even if her memories of her sister were alien now; incomprehensible, they still bore positive connotations. They were still good, and so long as they bore her sister’s face, they’d stay that way. A twinge of regret is lost in her voice, warbled and rough as it was, even before being filtered through her new accent and malformed teeth. “No tiym.” she begins. “Tu layt nao.” What she wants to say is for her sister to contact her later, to push this off indefinitely… But the effect may differ, heard from an unfamiliar voice on her sister’s end. “Look -urrp- Jayde-tek.” If her sister could provide the logs from Skype, and was smart enough to record this conversation (Marisse doubted it), she’d be able to use them against the company. After all, it’d been accused dozens of times before - it aught to seem suspicious. The reason it was never convicted dropped from Marisse’s mind, of course. In all likelihood, JadeTech would find her first. Rather than hear her sister’s rambling, she cuts off the call early. Her hands lingered on the greasy mouse and keyboard for a moment afterward, her gut twisting in a feeling that, for once, wasn’t hunger or indigestion. She felt like she made a mistake. No part of her wanted to feel this way, so quick as a flash she returned to her game. It’d… Get her mind off of it. Some food wouldn’t hurt, either…Maybe some vodka, or she could crack into those cigarettes. The world was her oyster. THE END.  
  14. The Halloween Costume by Mddubya (WG, Magic) Female race change, weight gain, etc… The Halloween Costume (Inspired by Wilson Barbers) mdduyba Jan had known of her husbands Steve fetish for big women for years. He hadn't actually tried to hide it. She'd found his stash of old Plumpers and Big Women magazines, and had seen him frequenting web-sites depicting BBW's in various stages of undress and sexual acts more times than she could recall. But he had made it quite apparent he loved her the way she was, and had never encouraged her to gain any weight at all. Not that she needed to anyway. Standing 5'6" and weighing in at 130 lbs she was by no means a bean pole. She had curves where a woman was supposed to have, in spades. 34D-26-36 put her in the range of damn near perfect in most men's eyes. But she knew he would have loved it if she could somehow occasionally been heavier, if only for a few hours of fun in the bedroom. So when she was driving downtown and saw the new shop, Ye Olde Costume and Majic Shoppe, she couldn't resist stopping. Halloween was right around the corner and she and Steve had been invited to a big costume party. She doubted what she was looking for even existed, a realistic looking fat suit, but hey, it was worth a shot, right? But as soon as she walked in the door, the shop owner suddenly appeared from nowhere and said, "right this way, I have just what you're looking for". She was about to ask how he knew what she was looking for, but she found herself looking at an amazingly realistic looking fat suit. It was like a pair of coveralls almost, it had arms and legs and of course, a full body and was flesh colored and totally realistic looking. Almost obscenely realistic looking, the nipples looked as if they had been plucked right off her own breast, same shade, shape, only somewhat larger, as if it was indeed her own nipples, just stretched out due to their larger size. She couldn't believe the realism, the skin looked totally realistic, not vinyl or plastic, it even felt like real skin. It even had the same birthmark as she did, a small brown spot on the left side. Before she even realized it she was trying it on and standing in front of a full length mirror. As she stared at the image in the mirror, it seemed as if the seams at the wrist and ankles all but disappeared before her eyes, the flesh tone was that close to her own. Wow, even her face and extremities seemed bigger, to match the body of the suit. When she moved the suit shook and jiggled as if it was indeed her own flesh, the huge sagging breast swayed and bounced, she felt herself blushing at the realism, embarrassed to be naked, (or appear so) in front of the stranger, and was astonished to see the breast and chest area of the suit turn red. "Omg", Steve is going to love this", she was thinking to herself. In the back ground she could hear the shop owner giving her a warning, probably about the care and cleaning of the suit, (like she'd ever wear it again), lol, this was definitely a one time deal. But she was too enthralled with the image staring back at her, and wrapped up in the totally realistic feelings of the huge tits and fat belly, it was as if they were really hers, she could feel them pulling down. ("So this is what it feels like to be fat huh?" "Thank gawd I'm not fat like this,") she was saying to herself. "I'll take it", she quickly told the store keep before slipping out of the suit. She couldn't wait to show Steve on Halloween. For the next several days she kept him in the dark about her costume, only telling him he was going to love it. Steve was going dressed as Dracula, luckily she had seen the dress size needed on the box, and had bought a size 24 Elvira dress and black wig to go along with his look. While Steve waited down stairs she slipped on the suit, again marveling at how real it looked, and felt. As she began applying her pale make-up she could have sworn she was dabbing it onto her very own skin. As she was dabbing it onto the breast it even felt and looked like the nipples got hard. Jan shook her head, that was impossible, right? Donning the long black wig over her own long blonde hair she was quite satisfied, she made a hot Elvira, albeit a plus sized one, but a hot one none the less. Damn, she had a mile of cleavage showing, "should I wear a bra?" But she dismissed the idea, "Steve will love it, and besides, I have no idea what size I'd need anyway." When she walked down the stairs, ("damn, that sure seemed tougher than usual"), Steve's mouth dropped open in shock, then a huge grin spread across his face, and as her eyes drifted down, it was obvious he approved by the instant erection he was sporting. Jan did the best pirouette she could pull off at this size and tried to run into his arms. Tried being the key word, she soon discovered that running was a lot more difficult as a BBW. The huge titties were doing their best to escape from the confines of the dress. Her legs, the legs, were rubbing together, and the/her belly was flopping and jiggling all over the place throwing off her balance. Again the thought ran through her head, ("thank gawd I'm not really this big, I don't think I could deal with this all the time.") Steve watched in amazement as Jan came down the stairs and did her pirouette, "holy shit", and when she ran into his arms her couldn't believe how her whole body shook and jiggled. As he hugged her he couldn't believe it, it really felt like he was squeezing her, not a bunch of padding. he could even feel her nipples, or the nipples, harden and burn holes into his chest. Jan read his mind and said, "yes we have to go to the party, I put too much effort into this get-up to not at least make an appearance." At the party everyone was astonished at Jan's costume, at how realistic it looked. And of course, the two of them won the best costume award, a nice bottle of wine to take home. But Jan found herself constantly bumping into things, either with her belly or her, no wait, the hips of the costume. She kept forgetting to give herself a wider birth as she'd walk past something. More than once she knocked something off a table with her wide hips and ass shelf. And somehow, it seemed as if she could feel each and every bump and bang. But that was impossible, right, so she just dismissed it as her over-active imagination. And as the night wore on her back began to hurt somewhat from her tits, the tits, hanging freely and flopping around in the dress. Jan thought to herself, (no wonder big girls never go braless). All through the night Steve couldn't keep his hands off Jan, and finally after hours of him begging, they said their goodnights and headed home. Once home they made a bee line for the bedroom. Steve opened the wine and poured them both a big glass, not that they needed it, Jan was already quite buzzed, and Steve quickly joined her after gulping his first couple of glasses down. There was never a doubt Steve wanted her to leave the suit on, but both were shocked when Steve reached down and found a wet pussy, covered with black hair, waiting for him, (where did that come from?). And when she raised her fat arms up over her head, he saw the thick growth of black arm-pit hair there. (who knew Elvira didn't shave her armpits?), This was too weird, to both of them, but Steve wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, and they were both far too turned on to question it at that point. What ensued was several hours of the best sex they had shared in years. Jan was amazed at how she could feel every touch, every caress, and yes, even every suck. When Steve began to suckle on the huge distended nipples, her pussy gushed. And when he entered her pussy she could feel her body, the body, shake and quiver. Somewhere in the middle of their love making Jan heard a clock strike midnight, which wouldn't have been weird, except they didn't own a chime clock. Finally, somewhere around 3am they both fell asleep exhausted. Steve woke up first and laid there staring at Jan sleeping. He still couldn't believe it, the suit looked so real. He literally couldn't see where the suit ended and Jan began, her hands looked fatter, her fingers pudgier, even her face was rounder, and somehow she had a double chin, almost a triple chin. As he looked closer he saw Jan's birthmark, in the same spot as always. A shiver ran up his spine, "wow, this thing is unreal it's so lifelike." He gently tugged on the black wig and was surprised when it didn't lift up. When he pulled on the thick black triangle of hairs covering her pussy he was shocked to see they were attached. "What the fuck?" He knew they had made love 2 nights ago and she was freshly shaven, and besides, she was a natural blond anyway. The tugging finally woke Jan up, she smiled up at him and asked if he had enjoyed last night? "You know I did babe, that was stupendous, where did you find this amazing suit?" Jan went on to tell him about the new shop she had run across, and about the weird little man that had waited on her. When she asked if he was ready for round two he laughed and said, "as amazing as last night was, I kind of miss my skinny little wife, let's get this suit off of you first, then we can do a comparison fuck." "I'll help you get it off, I swear I can't see the seams at all." He followed her into the bathroom, amazed at how her enormous ass rolled and rocked from side to side with each step. "damn", he thought to himself, "look at that, cellulite, that's a bit too much realism." Jan lifted up her hair, "there is a zipper right here, its just hard to see." As Steve searched for the zipper, Jan was trying to pull the wig off from the back. "Uhhhh, babe, I don't see a zipper anywhere," "OMG Steve, I can't get this wig off!" Jan began yanking harder and harder on the wig, but it wasn't coming off, because it was her hair, it was attached to her scalp somehow. She began clawing at the wrist of the suit, trying to find the seam, but somehow she scratched herself and drew blood. How was this possible, how could the fat suit bleed? "I don't know what is going on Steve, but we have to get downtown to that shop, maybe the weird little man can explain this?" Jan lumbered over to the closet to find something to wear before she realized nothing in there was going to fit her now. Putting back on the Elvira dress they hurried out the door. But after driving around the downtown area numerous times Jan cried, "I swear, I know it was here, but now it's gone!" Finally they gave up searching for the nonexistent store and headed home. "Steve, I don't know what is going on here, but I'm going to at least hop in the shower and wash this pale make-up off, and shave off this pussy hair and my underarms." But as she scrubbed, it soon became obvious the make-up wasn't going to come off either , or it wasn't make-up. Picking up her razor she began to lather up the luxuriant growth of thick, silky black hairs covering her pussy. But with each path of the razor, smooth skin would show through the shaving cream briefly, only to be replaced by the long silky black hairs again instantly. A couple of passes across her under-arms revealed the same thing, she would shave off the hair, but it would instantaneously reappear. When she stepped out of the shower Steve was standing there holding a piece of paper, looking as pale as she was. As she dried off she read it, in big bold print, "WARNING, DO NOT WEAR SUIT BEYOND MIDNIGHT, AFTER THE WITCHING HOUR, ALL CHANGES BECOME PERMENENT AND IRREVERSABLE" "Omg, you mean I'll look like this from now on?", Jan screamed. Steve tried to console her as best as he could. Stroking her hair and holding her close. But even as he was doing so, he couldn't help but think about how he already missed her blonde hair. Holding her soft fat body close, he tried to recall last nights sex, but all he could think about was the cellulite on her wide ass now, the heavy sagging breast covered with all the stretch marks and blue veins showing through her pale skin. And the hairy pussy and underarms, a shudder ran up his spine. Jan took it the wrong way though, "Well, at least you find me sexy this way don't you hunny?" "This is what you've always found sexy after all." Before he even thought about it, Steve said, "well, actually…….", then he caught himself, but it was too late, Jan had heard him, heard the trepidation in his voice. Finally he admitted, it was the thought of the transformation that had excited him, thinking about how the bbw's were so opposite of her, or rather, how she used to be. But now she is a bbw he thought silently. The following morning the two of them headed out to buy Jan some new clothes. But after stopping at all her favorite shops it soon became apparent that her old fashion style just wasn't going to work. Her 3 favorite shops didn't even carry anything in her new size, and when she finally did find something that sort of fit her in the 4th shop, it looked utterly ridiculous on her. Eventually they ended up at Layne Bryant's, once Jan's favorite shop to ridicule. How ironic, before she made fun of the women that had to shop here, and now here she was, one of them. After getting fitted by the salesgirl she found out she now wore a 46EE bra. Gone were the cute, sexy lacey cups and straps, replaced with miles of underwire, and an industrial strength look and feel. Where before she would wear a push-up bra to give her ample cleavage oomph, now it was a struggle for the bra to just hold the girls up off her fat belly. Instead of dressing to show off her narrow waist, now she was trying to camouflage her significant girth. The short mini-skirts designed to show off her shapely calves were replaced with longer, loose fitting dresses to hide her tree trunk sized legs. The sexy high heels she had always worn were now too tight on her fat feet, and balancing her increased weight on them soon proved to be too painful, so they were replaced with sensible flats. Luckily she was able to at least find a few tops that showed off her acres of cleavage, so she didn't feel like a total frump. But as she was standing in front of the mirror modeling the last of her purchases, the sales girl dropped a hint that maybe her long straight, jet black hair wasn't the ideal look for her. Not even thinking about that mornings experience with shaving they headed off to the malls hair salon. But after four hours of attempts at coloring and perming, she walked back out into the mall with the same exact hairstyle. It wouldn't take color or a perm. It was still board straight and jet black. As they walked through the mall Jan was suddenly assaulted by the aromas of the food court. Realizing just how hungry she was, she practically drug Steve in that direction. Upon reaching the counter she was surprised to hear herself order 2 large cheese burgers, a large order of fries, and a large chocolate shake. And Steve soon found himself surprised at how turned on he was watching her devour her order. It was almost sensual to observe how much she was enjoying and savoring her food. Watching her sensually suck the juices off her chubby fingers soon had him fidgeting uncomfortably in his seat. As he sat watching her, he slowly began to see the beauty in her new form. Ok, sure she wasn't built like a bikini model anymore. But there was definitely an inherent beauty and sexiness in her new look. He had always been a tit-man, and lord knows she had tits for days now. So what if they were covered with stretch marks and veins, those saucer sized nipples and aureoles made up for that, didn't they? Jan soon realized what was happening and finished wolfing down her food. Once she was done they rushed home for another round of fat sex. And so became their routine. Steve found himself only turned on by watching Jan eat, even though Jan did try dressing sexily, well, as sexily as she could find. After much internet searching she was able to locate several tops and skirts in her new and expanded size. And eventually her look more or less morphed into that of slutty Goth bbw. But in spite of her new style it soon became apparent that Steve was the most turned on by watching her eat. And not just eat, but over-eat. Jan soon came to enjoy the act of eating as much as Steve enjoyed watching her do so. Maybe it was the feeling of making up for all those years of dieting, but before long Jan was seldom seen without something in her mouth. It didn't take long before Jan was not only used to overeating constantly, but couldn't even imagine not doing so. It soon became obvious that she was addicted to food in such a way that dieting would be out of the question, even if it would have done any good. But somehow, (no doubt due to the majic involved), all of their friends and family remembered Jan as always having been a big girl and hearty eater. For the longest time Jan's newfound appetite didn't effect her weight or size. But about a month before Halloween she began to notice that her clothes were indeed becoming tight. Finally there was no denying it, she had outgrown her size 24's and 46EE bras and was forced to go up a size. Standing in the harsh lights of the dressing room as the salesgirl measured her for her new bra, Jan could not deny the fact that she had indeed gotten fatter. Her double chin had a new neighbor, and her cheeks had gotten so chubby the shape of eyes seemed to have changed. Not only that, but her already huge breast had grown exponentially. And with their added size came an increased weight, now they did hang down to the cavern that her navel had become. And the already existing road map of red stretch marks and blue veins had expanded to include several more counties it seemed. After what seemed like an eternity under the lights in front of the mirror it was announced that she needed a 48EEE, and size 28 clothes. Omg, no wonder her back was killing her. She bought the only 48EEE they had in stock, (a special order that had never been picked up), and ordered 3 more. So much for being able to buy bras off the shelf. Driving home Jan caught a glimpse of something out the corner of her eye. Even with the tilt steering all the way up her huge tits prevented her from turning around in her seat to look behind her, so she quickly hooked a U-turn. " Omg, I can't believe it, Ye Olde Majic Shoppe". As soon as she walked in the door, ok, waddled in, the shop keeper recognized her somehow. "Oh my, looks like someone didn't follow the instructions did they?" Jan tried explaining how they had gotten distracted, as if a good excuse would have mattered, but he cut her off. "Let me guess, you want to reverse the spell, right?" "Well, you my dear, are in luck." "Believe it or not, I have a brand new product that can indeed reverse the effects, that is, as long as you haven't become gluttonous and gained even more weight since last Halloween! " "You haven't have you my dear, have you?" "well………., sort of kind of maybe, but just recently." "Its just that eating is sooooooooo sensual and sexy now, I can't seem to help myself. I'm always hungry now, constantly" "oh dear, that is too bad to hear, if you had watched what you ate this past year, and had maintained your weight as set by the suit, I could reverse it with another suit. But now, well, you have totally altered the genetic makeup of the suit, which has in turn altered the DNA make-up of your body. " "No my dear, due to this turn of events, You are indeed, a BBW now, borderline SSBBW in all actuality." "Loosing weight is from now on an impossibility, No, you'll never lose any weight, but if you continue to eat voraciously, you will indeed gain even more. Jan collapsed back on a chair in shock, thank goodness it held. There was a moment there when it was in doubt, as her fat ass plopped down into it she heard it creaking and groaning, and had prayed it wasn't about to split apart. Finally it held. Jan sat there in the rickety chair gathering her thoughts. She had gone from having high hopes this nightmare as almost over to realizing this was it. That she was doomed to be a fat, slutty looking woman for the rest of her life. The End, ????????????????? Anonymous 02/03/17 (Fri) 03:22:32 No.1784 Part One "Ladies and gentlemen! It is with great honor that I present to you our veteran bounty hunter; Ms. Black!" The room was filled with cheering people, all members of the Organization. The room was set up much like a stage would be set up for a typical high school graduation. The Organization treated events like this like it was a big deal. But the only person that counted it as a big deal was the bounty hunter getting released. That is what this ceremony was all about. When a bounty hunter is released from The Organization, it means that they are free to go. The only reason The Big O makes it a big deal, is because it doesn't happen very often. On the stage sat all the remaining nine bounty hunters. When Black's name was mentioned, everyone looked to their left and saw a rather stunning woman walk onto the stage. There were cheers, whistles and hollers from the crowd of engineers, scientists, and workers. However, the remaining bounty hunters just sat in envy with only minor claps. When Black stepped onto the stage next to the CEO aka Ms. White, she faced the audience. "When Black first came to us, she was arrested for possession of heroine, cocaine, methamphetamine, and other various illegal drugs. She was given a choice and she chose to become a bounty hunter. And might I add, one of the best I've even had." Black only stood there and remained silent. The whole room was silent. Until once again White broke the silence. "She has now reached her goal after working for us for seven years and is now a free woman." Black still remained silent, looking down at her feet. In the back of her mind she thanked God she could see her feet now. "Her IQ is restored and her breast size is back to a healthy C cup." This in turn made most of the other bounty hunters look down at their stupendous busts. White then turned her attention to Black. "Would you like to add anything?" "I would like to stay." White looked at Black in subtle shock. "I'm sorry?" "I want to stay and be your right hand woman." At this point, Black was staring directly into White's eyes. Black certainly had this intensity about her that none of the other hunters had. When she first came The Organization in 2017, she was a little goth girl of age 22 by the name of Angela Jackson. Back then she was a hardcore drug addict that would get violent with family on a regular basis. One day, she nearly beat her mother to death when she refused to take her to a friends house that she knew did drugs as well. This is when a past hunter of The Organization came and picked her up (rather forcefully). When she accepted to become a fellow bounty hunter, she got prepped and became Ms. Black of the Organization. Her breasts were enlarged to the starting size of EE cups and her IQ lowered to the usual 80. Due to her crime of possession of many different drugs and assult, the Organization felt the need to send her on missions every now and then to stretch out her time in facility. But when she was on a mission, she never failed one. It proved to the Big O that she was serious about getting her life straight once she got out. But in her time, she began to realize that she never got a letter from her parents or anything from her friends. This is when she realized that no one wanted her; except for The Organization. "I'd like to stay." "Well…um…this is certainly different." White was having a bit of trouble forming words. This was indeed the first time a hunter wanted to stay. So naturally she was at a lose for words. "Then…it shall be done!" With that the crowd cheered. White held her hand to settle everyone down. "From now on, Black will be my right hand woman and you will treat her as such!" No one had any complaints, except for some of the other hunters who would get annoyed with her about her constant success and being a huge over achiever. ````` FIVE HOURS EARLIER ````` "I fucking can't believe Black is getting released today! This is bullshit!" Ms. Orange yelled. "Why is it bullshit? She did her job, she didn't fail, what's the big deal?" Ms. Purple said trying not to sound just as jealous. There was a group of eight hunters in the room. This was the room that was set up with TV, games, and anything else to keep the hunters entertained. The Organization facility didn't act like a typical prison. It acted more like a home for the elderly. There was certain times for entertainment, bath times, and of course, time for when they had to go to bed. When the hunters weren't out on a mission, they were lounging about in normal everyday clothes. Depending on the size of their breasts, depended on the clothing they wore, clearly if a girl had EE cup and smaller, they had less revealing clothes. And of course, if they were above EE cups, they had some or a lot of cleavage showing. It was a way of telling everyone who they were doing in the facility. The eight girls that sat in the room all had code names. Each one had a code name of a color, much like Reservoir Dogs, only with tits. The two earlier was Ms. Purple and Ms. Green. Three of the girls were trying to watch Doctor Who, these girls were Ms. Red, Ms. Yellow, and Ms. Blue. Ms. Orange and Ms. Brown were gossiping and flipping through a fashion mag and looking at some of the hot guys in there. Ms. Grey was listening to Orange and Brown gossip while she pained her toe nails. Ms. Purple was a woman in her late twenties with 36 DDD cup breasts and an IQ of 86. No one would ever consider her stupid, but she had her moments. She sported long straight brunet hair that could tickle the top of her plump butt. Apart from her chest, her ass was one of her better features. Considering she had Hispanic blood in her. This would also mean she would have that Latina attitude that she was proudly showing off in the room with Green. Her real name was Maria Sanchez. She was arrested for assaulting a public official while heavily intoxicated. Ms. Green on the other hand was arrested for same reasons, only she started a brawl at a local Irish pub and landed one man in the hospital. She sat on one of the chairs across from Purple, arms crossed under her 34 DDs. Green was one of the few bounty hunters that was arrested as a man. At the time HE was named Charlie O'Keefe. He was in his 30s when he was arrested and brought to the Big O. Clearly he chose to be a bounty hunter, he just didn't realize that meant becoming a woman. But he soon began like being a girl, a sexy Irish woman. She had some long slender legs that were crossed so she would be more comfortable. Her skin was rather pale which made her red hair pop more. She liked to keep it short, much like a pixie cut. She had the right body and face to pull it off beautifully. She was more or less one of the bounty hunters that didn't seem to fail many missions. She was only a few cup sizes away from being realized. Their attention was soon brought over to the TV when the Doctor Who theme blared through the room. "Turn that shit down!" Purple yelled. Ms. Red jumped and hoped over to the TV and turned it down to make Purple happy. "Okay…bitch…" She said to herself. Ms. Red was a hit or miss. There were missions she passed and failed and her chest showed it. She sported a pair of F cups that fit tightly in the tank top she wore. Now she wasn't real bright, but she was certainly brighter than others. She could keep up with what happens in Doctor Who quite easily. We all know how crazy that show can get. Her name was Ashley Robinson, 22 years old and fresh out of college when she was arrested for a hit and run. Granted she was a skittish little thing, so when she hit a poor man walking across the street, she sped off. Just a day later, she was scooped up by the Organization. She got up from the TV and brushed some of her shoulder length dark brown hair out of her face. "Oh! This is a good episode!" Next to her was Ms. Yellow. Not to be pulling the racist card on you dear reader, but Ms. Yellow was indeed a Japanese woman. Her name was Himiko Watanabe and she was arrested for smuggling illegal imports into America from Japan. She was sent because she knew the most English and had been to America several times before. Since she was rather good at being a bounty hunter when she came to The Big O, her bust size decreased quite drastically. The Organization even stopped giving her missions for the time being because she would go through them so quickly and professionally. However, she did have a decent share of failed missions, only because the Big O gave her missions that they knew she would fail at. Her shirt hung loose, considering she was an F cup a couple of weeks ago, now she was down to the default EE cup. "Is this the episode with the 'brink and you're dead' thing?" Yellow asked Red with her adorable Japanese accent. Red only nodded happily. Between the two sat a quite confused Ms. Blue. She had been watching this weird show about a flying blue box that was bigger on the inside, with aliens, and historical figures, and all kinds of strange stuff. Was this a history show? An alien show? What? Blue only sat and watched this strange show. Blue was definitely one of the dumber hunters, sporting a large 36 FF cup that was stuffed into a tank top tighter looking than Red's. It was unfortunate for her since she only passed a handful of missions. Blue was the youngest of the hunters at 18 years old. Megan Kingsly was arrested for underage drinking and driving. Certainly a much smaller offence, but none the less caught the Big O's eye. "I don't…get it…" Blue said to the other girls, but was then cut off by a large set of butt cheeks shoved in their faces blocking David Tennant's gorgeous face. Blocking their way was Ms. Orange. Orange had a bigger ass than Ms. Purple did and Purple hated her for it. Considering that Orange was a woman of African decent, she got away with it wholeheartedly. Often she would flaunt her ass to the other girls. Which is the exact reason she was in The Organization, she was arrested for prostitution. Booty Boo was the name she called herself when she was on the streets, but her real was Tamika Boon. According to most people on the streets, she was the best! She was also pretty good at her missions, but secretly she would fail a couple just so she could have her breasts boosted a little so that she could be a little more even up top with her butt. But of course, she would become a bit more dim in the process. As of right now, she sported a healthy 34 FF. Her band was smaller than Blue's, so that would technically make Orange's breasts a tiny bit smaller. "I'm just grabbin' some mags! I get my black ass out of the way!" She shuffled off back to where she was sitting. Orange tossed a couple of magazines towards Ms. Brown. Ms. Brown was another large chested hunter who followed in Orange's footsteps. They were almost like sisters. Brown would follow Orange where ever and would get sad if she was off on a mission and she was left behind. Brown was arrested for attempted murder on a friend of hers gone bad. Her name was Tori Mandilla. She was often rejected by many people and when her best friend turned against her, she wouldn't have it. When The Organization got a hold of her, she had already stabbed her friend in the side with a pocket knife. Her friend lived. When she got into the facility, Orange took her under her wing and cared for her like a little sister. But when it came to missions, Brown would often get scared of failing. So she would try extra hard to succeed, but would sometimes fail. This in turn gave her 34 EEE cups. Not as big as Blue or Orange. While everyone was engaged in whatever activity they were doing, one hunter remained silent while painting her toenails. She was on her last one when she got up to grab a can of soda from the refrigerator. Ms. Gray was certainly one of the more mysterious hunters of the lot. She didn't really converse with anyone. She was up there with Ms. Black. Just by looking at her you could tell she was right behind her in getting released. She had D cup breasts and a very slender body. She was also one of the oldest hunters. At age 45, she looked amazing! If the other hunters didn't know any better, they would have assumed she was at least late 20s. Gray or Maria Slater was arrested for murdering her husband, plain and simple. She hated him and wanted him dead. So one night, she put a bullet in his head while he slept and waited for The Organization to sweep her up. This was also 10 years ago. She was certainly upset about the fact that Black was getting released before her. She was there longer and passed more missions than failed. Okay sure, Black had not failed one mission, but still, give a woman some credit! Green looked around and noticed something. "Hey, has anyone seen Pink?" At the mere mention of the name, most of the girls groaned. "Oh geez, you mean the walking tits?" Purple said. "Aye, the walking tits." Green said. "You know, you guys should be more supportive of her. She hasn't exactly done very well ever since she started here." "Oh please, she hasn't passed one mission since she got recruited." Orange said. Purple chimed back in. "I mean, seriously, Blue has passed more missions than Pink has and Blue is a retard." Blue lifted her head when her name was mentioned. "Did someone call me?" "See what I mean?" Green shook her head. "Okay, I know, Pink is definitely the dumbest out of all of us, but am I seriously the only one who supports her?" All the other girls nodded, with the exception of Gray who stood in the kitchen area sipping on her soda. "You're all fecking bitches!" Green stood up. "We're suppose to be helping one another to help get each other out of here sooner rather than later!" "Oh shit! Green is getting all patriotic!" Purple said teasingly. This made all the girls laugh, causing poor Green to blush. "Awww, look, she's blushing!" At this point, Green stormed out to her personal room, leaving the group of girls laughing. "Where are you going, Green?" Purple called out. "To look for Pink!" "Well make sure she didn't forget how to put her bra on!" "Feck you!" When the door slammed shut, this left all the girls in an awkward silence. This was soon broken when Purple started to snicker. "So, who wants to bet she forgot how to put on her bra today?" This then made the girls begin to bet clothes instead of money. Anonymous 02/03/17 (Fri) 03:23:03 No.1785 PART TWO Green walked through the long hallways of the dorm section. There was one main hallway that had several different doors on each side with each door having a name of one of the hunters on it. Each dorm was a rather large one consisting of a main living room, a kitchen area, a main bedroom, two bathrooms, walk in closet and a spare room for whatever activities the girls would like to do. Sometimes and we mean sometimes on a blue moon, some of the girls like to sleep over at one another's dorm. What they did was a mystery, but sometimes there were many noise complains (if you catch my drift). Green's small heals clicked with every step on the marble floor of the hallway. It was a good walk for her, considering that the hall was a lengthy one. Eventually she made it to a door with a cute little sign that was labeled "Pink". She hesitated for a moment before knocking on the door. She didn't hate Pink, nor was she her favorite. But considering that this girl has had it rough and has had no one to have her back, Green couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She took a breath and knocked on the door. No answer. "Pink? You in there? It's Green." She pressed her ear up to the door and heard cartoon playing on the TV. She rolled her eyes. Typical Pink, if she wasn't taking hour long showers or playing with her toys, she would be watching TV. "Okay, I'm comin' in." Pink was never one to lock her door, mainly because she would always forget such simple tasks. Green poked her head in first and glanced around. When she saw that she was not in the living room she opened the door all the way and let herself in. She walked over to the TV and found that the Powerpuff Girls were playing. She flipped the TV off and looked around the room. "Oh, she redecorated." She said looking at the set up of Hello Kitty merchandise and pink throw pillows. Quite frankly, it was almost as if Green had stepped into an eight years old's dream house. Green sat down on the couch and picked up a magazine that was laying on top of the coffee table. She was flipping through the pages reading about what celebrity is going out with who and what NOT to wear before she heard something coming from the bathroom. Green lifted her head up in response to the sound. She listened and sure enough heard something that sounded like a painful moan. She stood up and headed over to the bathroom. "Pink? You in there?" "Help…me…" Panic filled Green as she was scared something had happened to Pink. Again the door was not unlock and she burst into the steaming shower room. Suddenly Green was knocked to the ground by something large and soft. When she lifted her head up after the haze had cleared from her head, she was greeted by two massive breasts. When she full came to, she saw there was a head past the monster melons. Ms. Pink was certainly an interesting addition to The Big O. Tiffany Anderson was arrested under a false charge of drug possession. She was already a natural blonde and was one of the few people in the real world that had natural D cups. Another unfortunate fact was that Tiffany was already playing up the dumb blond act, only thing was, she was acting. She dropped out of high school, mainly for her failing grades. She wasn't a trouble student, she just struggled. She grabbed a job at a diner and made decent money there, but one day she had a run in with the wrong people at the wrong time and she landed in The Organization faster than you can say "dumb blond". The poor girl was often sent on missions the Big O would know she would fail at. She started out like all the other hunters; with EE cups. But with every failed mission came a punishment. Every other week or so, the other bounty hunters would laugh as they watched Pink walk to her room with a heavier chest and lowered IQ. As of right now, she was a whopping 34 J cup! So naturally that would make her IQ a laughable matter. She was still able to speak, walk, run and operate simple machinery, with some help of course, so it wasn't as though she was am adult baby. "You, like, okay?" Pink looking down at the nearly knocked out comrade. Green shook her head. "Aye, luckily the impact was softened. She said jokingly. Then she remembered. "I heard you from outside, it sounded like you might have needed help." Pink gasped! "Did, like, someone send you to help me put my bra on?!" Green only looked at the girl. Seriously? She actually DID need helping putting on her bra? "Don't…don't you know how to put a bra on, lass?" Pink blushed the same color as her name. "No…Pink don't remember." Green rolled her eyes. One of the things she found annoying was Pink's habit of talking in third person and sounding like she was a baby. "Fine…where is it?" Pink pointed to the large pink lace bra that was sitting on the toilet. She picked it up and marveled for a moment at how huge it was. She looked at the tag and nearly collapse a the mere sight of the size. She finally gathered the strength to help this poor dumb girl out. "Right, lift up your arms." Pink did as she was told and lifted her arms like she was making a letter "t". Green heaved the bra around and pulled them up to the girls massive breasts. The bra must have done something to them, because when she looked to see if the cups were cupping her breasts, she found that Pink's cleavage was much more inviting. Her cleavage was impressive before, but now it looked creamier and much deeper. A part of her was jealous at how large her boobs were, but she was also grateful she wasn't as stupid as Pink was. "Don't these hurt your back?" Pink let out a giggle. "You talk funny!" Green sighed. "I've told you before, I'm Irish." "What is Irish mean?" "Never mind. Just let me finish clasping you bra…and….there we go." She said once the last hook was hooked. Pink turned around showing her bra stuffed tits in their full glory to Green. Green again was almost mesmerized at their sheer size and all out perkiness. For their size, they were surprisingly VERY perk. Once would almost think they were fake. But the Big O had a very strict "no implant" policy. So, everyone knew how natural everyone's boobs were no matter what size. Remember when we mentioned about bounty hunters getting released from The Organization? That they would be let loose if they passed missions? Well, there is something that happens to a hunter if they fail one too many missions and become far too stupid to even complete a task of making frozen waffles. When they get far too stupid to take care of themselves, they are sent to a place called The Pit. There is an elevator that leads straight too it. Almost every Halloween, there are horror stories told about The Pit. But it's no joke. When a bounty hunter it sent to The Pit, they are pretty much turned into cattle. Not literally turned into cows, but they are hooked up to a series of tubes and injected with various different chemicals that would do certain things. One would be injected into the breasts to induce lactation. Another would be injected into the abdomen so that it may stretch with ease. Another would be injected into the clit so that it may swell and make it easier for the machine to slip inside. When the hunter is ready to to, the machine would come to life and begin to impregnate her with several infants at once. But another tube would be hooked to her mouth so that she would be feed on a regular basis. She would be impregnated only because the real world is always looking for women who can't give birth. There had only be one reported hunter who suffered this fate; Ms. Velvet. According to Ms. White, she is still down there. Long story short, The Organization is looking to make Pink Ms. Velvet's next door neighbor. ````````````  
  15. 'Coming to Flah' by Tang (iq-, culture, id, female race change) Coming to Flah by Tang Sarah Lockwood’s parents had divorced when she was thirteen. Hitting forty, her father, Jonathan, seemed to have tired of the whole family ‘project’ and had left her and her mother. There appeared to be no-one else involved and he had even moved to Norway which to Sarah seemed the dullest place possible. Sometimes she wished he had run off to ride around America on a Harley Davidson with a girlfriend half his age. Since the split, he had been formal and proper with gifts and even the appropriate financial support; she had even stayed at his apartment for one tedious holiday. The experience, however, had left Sarah very cautious about men and the way their brains worked. It had, though, naturally left her close to her mother, Anabelle. For some years it had been like the two of them against the world. As she progressed well in her studies, and knew she would soon be going away from home for university, Sarah had worried how her mother would cope with an entirely ‘empty nest’. Sarah had no desire for her to be sad, let alone lonely. Thus, she had begun to make hints about finding a replacement for Jonathan. She had signed Anabelle up for various websites and encouraged her to go speed-dating. It was something coming to fruition by the time Sarah had gone away to study. Whilst her mother was rather cagey about the men she communicated with and who she dated, Sarah was pleased that she had expanded Anabelle’s interest beyond the four walls. Sarah had remembered her mother talking about a man whose online name was something like ‘IrishRover’. Anabelle seemed to light up when it was him she had been emailing and then speaking to. Sarah had no prejudice against any man except one as uncommitted as her father. Perhaps a Irishman with a sweet smile and a mischievous way, something she realised as a stereotype, but one she could not shake, was what her mother needed. After all she was still young and fit enough to enjoy life. These days some women started families past their fortieth birthdays. Though immersed in her work and with only occasional visits home, Sarah soon became aware that things had gone further and there was regular mention of Dwyer Glansie. Sarah was not really clear what he did, but Anabelle had said something about construction and that he was often moving around and on the road. While a builder might not be the first choice of someone living in a Buckinghamshire suburb, Sarah was grateful that he was in work and appeared to support himself without need to be drawing on her mother’s money. As she had grown older herself, she had become more cautious about how middle-aged women could be exploited, an attitude fuelled by horror stories from university friends. When Anabelle had Skyped excitedly about how Dwyer had asked her to marry him and she had accepted, Sarah had been uncertain how to take it. She responded positively, genuinely pleased that her mother appeared so happy. However, inside her various alarms sounded. Not having seen her mother for some weeks, she was rather concerned at the visible changes: her long permed and dyed hair, the use of much more make-up than had ever been the case before, even the tight fitting top which accentuated her cleavage. Then Sarah realised she was beginning to reverse-parent: treating her mother as if she was her own daughter. She struggled to remind herself that Anabelle was a grown woman and had got through much of her life largely successfully, all without Sarah’s input. Sarah reined in her feelings once again a short while later when her mother revealed she was selling up the house and emigrating to Ireland to live with Dwyer. Sarah recognised that to protest at this step was to be selfish, to put her expectations of some inheritance over what was right for her mother; of course it would be natural for her to live with her new husband. Looking through the photos Anabelle emailed from her time over in Ireland, Sarah had wondered how many new relatives she would be gaining through this marriage. Further concerns came when she realised that they were not simply Irish, but Irish travellers, with a very different view on the world to her own. However, their caravans looked very clean and tidy and all the women and girls were smartly turned out in the latest fashions and hairdos even if they had far more fake tan and make-up than anyone Sarah knew. When her mother referred to her prospective Irish step-sisters and Dwyer as her step-father, Sarah had felt an unease first of an immediate reaction then of a different kind as she worried that she was falling into a prejudiced response that, as a broad-minded student, she felt was inappropriate for her to hold. Sarah sought positives, thinking how attractive the step-sisters appeared and that almost everyone was grinning, apparently very happy in the photos. In time the wedding invitation arrived along with plane tickets and a booking for a charming hotel in rural Ireland. Now Sarah felt she could not refuse to go. When Alannah, the eldest of her step-sisters-to-be, the same age as Sarah but already married, sent such a nice email talking about looking forward to Sarah’s visit, she felt compelled to respond with a degree of warmth. She did baulk, however, at Alannah’s closing wish that Sarah might find the opportunity, while visiting, to pick up an Irish traveller husband of her own and settle in the country. **** Anonymous 02/03/17 (Fri) 00:40:31 No.1807 While she had seen them on television, nothing had prepared Sarah for the nature or the scale of her mother’s wedding. She had had to fight hard in refusing to be one of the bridesmaids once she had seen the vast turquoise dresses and the elaborate hairstyles they were expected to sport. Two days before, she had gone for what turned out to be a very raucous meal at a pub to be introduced to all of her new family who called her mother ‘Analetta’ and seemed to alter her own name to ‘Sara’, though the strength of their accents made it hard for her to be sure. Sarah had tried to get into the spirit of the thing, dressed in her best party clothes, but she was over-shadowed beside what her range of step-sisters turned out in, each looking ready to perform a pole dance. Once they had got on the floor, Sarah had shouted her farewells to her mother and retreated to the hotel. She thought she had seen a look from the proprietress when she had checked in; presumably the name of who had paid triggered such a response. Sarah had gone out of her way to say she was studying at university. This time on her return she even lied about being a researcher for a television company about making a documentary about traveller weddings. This seemed to please the man now at reception and he started going on about how much money a television crew could bring to this place and plying her with business cards. At the ceremony itself, Sarah had been more than happy to sit at the back of the church mixed in with people of all kinds who seemed to be friends of the Glansie family. She found herself next to two women who ran a beauty salon which had apparently had a hand in readying all the women in the main part of the event. Sarah wondered how she might have turned out if she had yielded from the pressure from Alannah and Danielle and gone for their processing. Now the wedding was over and the meal eaten. The party had relocated to a village hall that appeared to have come from a 1970s situation comedy. All the ladies had disappeared only to come back with their turquoise creations replaced by much sexier, though admittedly more practical outfits. Even her mother was now in a form fitting shiny black dress with lace on the shoulders and sleeves. Her hair had been released to cascade down her back and her make-up augmented. Sarah had sat in her plain floral dress and her ankle boots, feeling as if she had fallen to Earth and had failed to properly match with the appearance of the Earthlings. She was also feeling utterly detached from her mother. She guessed, however, this was simply the reverse-parenting raising its head again. She imagined what she felt now was no different to how her mother would have felt if she was the new bride or indeed what Sarah herself might feel when she saw a daughter of hers marry; not that she had much intention of having children for a long time. Sarah told herself to be mature about this stuff. She went to get a pint of Guinness and with the barman’s bemused look, found herself lying that it was for her step-father. As she supped her stout, Sarah watched her mother dancing with her new husband, again with mixed emotions. Anabelle/Analetta certainly seemed happy and accepted into this traveller community. However, Sarah wondered whether after this evening she would see much of her mother assuming she could even locate her as they moved from place to place. “Your Ma looks like a real gypsy, doesn’t she?” It was Dwyer’s mother who Sarah remembered was called Brianna. Sarah had not noticed her approach and hope that signalled that the beer was finally kicking in. “I suppose so.” Certainly her outrageous outfit was more in keeping with what a gypsy woman would wear than a housewife from Buckinghamshire. “No, look closely, see. See she looks a traveller; she looks like she’s always been a traveller woman. She’s always been a gypsy.” Brianna said softly but Sarah found she could hear her clearly despite the music and the chatter. Sarah was going to counter what Brianna said, but felt it would be rude to challenge the old woman. “Her name’s Analetta.” Sarah guessed she had to concede what her mother seemed now happy for people to call her. In fact she struggled to remember what she had been known as before. “Yes, Analetta.” Brianna smiled. “Yes, Analetta’s always been her name, because she’s always been a traveller.” Sarah guessed that Brianna meant at heart her mother had wanted this kind of life never fixed in one place, with a strong man who told her what to do. “Yes, you could say that.” “You agree, she’s always been a traveller?” “Yes, I agree, she’s always been a traveller.” Sarah gave in the battle, it did not seem worth it to rile this woman who was harmless. “If that’s a case, then you must have traveller blood flowing through you. I guess that if you’re mother has always been a traveller, then so have you.” Sarah felt hot all over her body, she flushed and tried to concentrate. She was aware that something was changing, something that Brianna was doing to her. How could that be possible? She found quickly that whatever the old woman said appeared to be the utter truth, things that she could not contest. “You’ve always been a traveller. Your name is not Sarah, it’s Sorcha.” Sarah tried to speak to challenge Brianna’s claim, but she found she could not. What was stopping her tongue? Was it that or was it in fact that Brianna was telling the truth? “Sorcha, you’ve always been a traveller, haven’t you?” Dimly Sarah found herself nodding. Her body thrummed as she responded to the name of Sorcha and then felt as if some tension had been released, something wrong had been corrected. “Sorcha, you’ve always been a traveller, an Irish traveller, haven’t you? Just tell me, just tell me once.” “Yes, I’ve always been a traveller.” With that, Sarah felt a jolt as if she had been suddenly thrust into a new world. However, as she looked around her nothing appeared to be different. Inside her things were altering. Memories were fleeing from her mind. Her college studies, the house she had lived in, the memories of her father quickly went. She saw herself instead living in caravans, leaving school at thirteen; working hard to clean and cook rather than living a student life. Then she saw herself as a young woman with long dark hair and full breasts, wearing the tightest sexiest clothes, her skin coated in fake tan and her make up as heavy tonight. Sarah struggled to cling on to the memories, but increasingly they seemed wrong. If her mother was a traveller, a gypsy, then of course she would be one too, there was no way she could deny it. Sorcha blinked, feeling rather light-headed. She glanced across the room at her mother, Analetta with her step-father. She then caught sight of herself reflected in the windows of the hall. Her long black hair cascaded down the side of her face. Her eyes were ringed with liner, her eyelids a pink shade, her lips another paler version. Her skin glowed dark brown with the fake tan that covered it. She looked down at herself in her party clothes. Her long painted nails emerged from the fingerless leather gloves. She wore a tight bra top of black latex detailed by broad scarlet stripes; her short skirt matched, with the red panels down the side of her thighs. Her shoes were patent red, the shade matching that above. They had a long heel and a thick platform that Sorcha knew she loved. Sorcha heard voices calling from the dance floor and saw her step-sisters, dressed similarly, doing that sensual snaking dance that was so popular at traveller gatherings like this. Sorcha stood up and strode across them. In moments she was running her hands over her slippery tight clothes, thrusting out her breasts and twerking her bum in the way she loved. Around her, her sisters, a range of ages performed likewise. As she turned and twisted, feeling aroused by the dance she cast her eye over her shoulder to catch sight of the young men lined up by the bar. She saw Niall standing there. She slowed her moves waiting for him to look her way. As his gaze fell upon her, looking as if he had just seen her for the first time, Sorcha began to dance more actively. She lowered her eyes as if admiring the top of her own breasts, sliding her hands slowly over the shine of her bra top and then leaving one lingering on the taut latex of her miniskirt. She scissored her legs as if impatient. She could not remember when she had first become attracted to Niall but she knew there was something about him that she liked. She now looked up, hoping she had sent a clear message to him and that he felt likewise. She was sure how she was dressed and made-up tonight would be making him hard as it was. As Sorcha danced something nagged at the back of her mind. Strangely she felt that despite enjoying herself, she had to get out of this room, in fact to get out of these clothes. Something about them felt peculiar, not quite right. She wondered if she had been over doing it. “You’s alright?” Sorcha’s eldest step-sister, Alannah asked. Alannah wore black PU shorts detailed with studs and slender chains hanging across the front. Her over-the-knee boots were similar, though with buckles down the leg. She wore a sequined bandeau which accentuated her full breasts. Sorcha realised she could easily wear such an outfit, in fact would enjoy doing so. Her step-sister’s hair was like her own and their make-up complemented. For a moment, however, Sorcha wondered if that was somehow deliberate, to make it seem that how she appeared herself, fitted in perfectly here. “Just needs some air.” Sorcha replied, for some reason surprised at her broad Irish accent. Alannah nodded and Sorcha looked around her, seeking the door. As she walked from the room she saw Brianna talking to a young man and stepping on she saw it was Niall. Sorcha wondered with a grin what the old woman was cooking up. If it involved Niall, she told herself, she was not averse. As she stepped into the cool evening air feeling it on the extensive areas of her skin that were uncovered, Sorcha wondered what she liked about Niall. In the end she felt that there was nothing that she could identify specifically, it was just as if suddenly she had found that she fancied him. From inside the hall, the sound of the music was muted. Sorcha felt an urge to go back in and continue dancing, but the unsettled feeling she had had in there kept stopping her. She wondered why she should feel this way. She looked her best and she was here enjoying herself at a happy day for her mother. Sorcha looked at the back of her hands covered in the tight leather. In part she loved these gloves, they made her feel really sexy and they were of a style she liked. However, for some reason it was as if they brand new, not just that day, but within the last few moments and more than that, even though she knew she liked them, she found it difficult to imagine herself ever trying them on let alone buying them. Sorcha’s attention was snatched back by the sound of the door opening behind her. Before she could look round, she was lifted off her feet and in moments, she understood that she had been ‘grabbed’. Somehow she knew it was Niall who had finally found the courage to do what young traveller men did, to carry her off physically for a snog behind some building so as to declare his interest in her. Sorcha realised as she was carried hurriedly into the darkness that this was what she had been anticipating all night. In fact her body’s excitement told her that she welcomed it. Any thoughts of it being inappropriate or not the kind of approach she expected from a man were quickly swept from her. It was as if she had forgotten lessons she had been taught and for a moment she wondered if she would things differently if she had not left school so early. Niall lowered her to the ground quite gently. Sorcha’s back was pressed against the wall but her latex clothes protected her. Her heart was thumping and the tight rubber creaked and squealed as she breathed in and out quickly. She scissored her legs feeling an anticipation, a heat growing between them. Traveller women remained virgins until their weddings, but with the sexy dancing that they did, it was not surprising that both they and the men that attracted them went as far as they could without penetration. Niall was standing looking at Sorcha in the weak illumination from streetlights. Again, though she knew they had known each other for many years, she felt as if he was looking at her as someone new. Maybe his thick skull had only now woken up to her charms. With that thought, Sorcha felt a real urge to show him what she could offer. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in tight, pressing her lips against his and then forcing into his mouth with her tongue. He tasted of beer and the meal from earlier, but what she relished above all was that he smelt and tasted of man. A man washed and scrubbed up to be his best, but still a man, a traveller man and one she knew she was liking. Niall pulled her in close, one hand cupping her bum, the other grasping her breasts. She loved the feel of the pressure on them and her arousal increased that. Sorcha reached down to rub against the front of Niall’s trousers and he jerked back, grunting as she had run her hand over his erection. Sorcha guessed at their age he would be like a firework liable to explode. Though she knew it would be wrong, she was keen to feel him inside her. She wondered if she could strike a deal. “If you’ll eat me out, I’ll suck you. Deal?” Sorcha whispered in his ear. Niall mumbled something but got down on his knees which Sorcha took as signalling his willingness. She hitched up her short skirt and shuddered pleasurably as she felt the warmth of his head between her thighs. She knew she was so wet and hot and her clit was awake. Having Niall pressing his tongue against her gee, she wondered why it just felt so good and when had she started shaving down there? Maybe she had had this planned all along. Whatever the path had been to get here, she was simply enjoying it. Then she jerked; her hips thrusting her fanny into his face. The names: gee, fanny, in some ways seemed so right but also unfamiliar to her mind. Why was she worrying? Niall’s tongue was there and there and there and now it blasted her body with a thrill, she shrieked and stopped her mouth with her hand, thrumming, throbbing, shaking against him. He was quickly up and holding her as her knees weakened. Sorcha let herself be lowered to the ground and beneath her bare knees found Niall’s jacket. She imagined the dirt on it would seem a small price to him for what he was going to receive. She also knew that next time she would pick her longest boots for this. His bod was out and she closed her lips around the head, widening them and slipping it inside. For some reason Sorcha felt there was something so good in servicing him this way, on her knees, slurping at his hard flesh. As she had suspected, it did not take long before he was firing his jip into her. The flavour was strong and the consistency sticky, but she swallowed down, somehow liking all that she was doing. Niall lifted her up and grinned as if suddenly bolloxed with the drink, but Sorcha knew it was something else which had had that effect and recognised that it pleased her. “Come on, let’s get a drink.” Niall proposed but led Sorcha by the hand away from the hall. Sorcha came on, tugging her latex skirt back down, loving how it clung and stretched. The fact that they were off to a pub to be together rather than going back to the wedding reception pleased her. She felt she had been right about Niall and that there was a good future with him; a sexy one at that. **** Anonymous 02/03/17 (Fri) 00:40:50 No.1808 Sarah awoke, not clear how she had got to bed. There was a fresh, rather plastic smell but she guessed that was something to be expected in a hotel. From outside she could hear the noise of children running around close by her window. Was she on the ground floor? As she sat up, her curiosity was answered. It was apparent that she had not made it back to the hotel, but instead was in one of the travellers’ caravans. From the décor it was clear it was inhabited by young women and distantly Sarah recalled something about there being a spare bed in the caravan Alannah had shared with her sisters, now she was married and living with Ciaran. Sarah felt hungry and wondered if there was food in here. However, she guessed that first she needed to get dressed. She looked around the bed but could see nothing bar a pair of high-heeled shoes that she guessed had been left by one of the others. She found it difficult to think of them as her step-sisters. She went to the wardrobe and realised that she should not be surprised to find it was full of the kind of clothes the traveller women wore. The bras were lacy black and the panties were thongs. Not the kind of thing she would have chosen and she felt self-conscious about even borrowing another woman’s underwear. However, she was conscious that unless she was dressed there was no way she could get out of here and back to her hotel room where her own clothes were. As Sarah slipped into the thong she realised just how dark her skin tone was. She could see that she had been coated with the fake tan that seemed essential to all traveller women and girls. Had someone sprayed this on her last night? She was annoyed that they had, but guessed there was some kind of remover she could buy. She would leave it for now, because, as yesterday she was very conscious of not doing anything that offended her hosts, especially now that she seemed to be the heart of their camp. As she clipped the bra closed, she was concerned that it was too large for her. However, she was not keen to have nipples prominent in what she wore especially as so many of the tops looked like they would be tight fitting. One of them, with a matching skirt was made of black and red latex and Sarah had trouble envisaging ever wearing anything like that. The bra proved to fit her perfectly. Eventually she settled for a black and white cheetah print top with long sleeves. It clung to her tightly. She put on the biker-style leather jacket on top to conceal herself a little more. All the skirts in the wardrobe were short and all the leggings were shiny. She ended up in a black wet-look pair that again fitted very well even if they were a style she would have never worn back home. She dreaded what her friends would think. Many of the boots were over-the-knee; one pair had to be thigh-length and all the shoes were high-heeled. She settled on a pair of kitten-heeled black patent knee-length boots detailed with silver studs and a buckle at the ankle. Sarah imagined that she probably did not look too different to many of the young women around the site. She guessed that might be too much of a bad thing. She needed to find her mother or at least Alannah. Perhaps even Brianna could help her find where her clothes let alone her purse, had got to. There was a small shiny black handbag sitting on the table at the other end of the room. She looked through it feeling a little self-conscious; it held the usual things a young woman would have, though with far more make-up than she would have considered carrying. She found a new Irish passport in the name of Sorcha Glansie. She knew Glansie was her mother’s new surname; her husband’s name, so she guessed this belonged to one of his daughters, perhaps a niece. She was seventeen, two years younger than Sarah, but with the same birthday. Sarah tried to remember if they had been introduced. However, looking at her photo showing a woman with big black hair and a fake tan, she imagined that they could have been but she would never have distinguished her from the scores of other young women cavorting on the dance floor. Gazing out through the window, she could see the life of the site around her. For some reason it looked very familiar, but she guessed it was because it resembled many others she had seen on television. Since her mother had declared that she was going to marry Dwyer, and Sarah had realised what he was, she had made some effort to watch all the documentaries on about the traveller lifestyle. She could see the children she had heard earlier and some women, but none of them she recognised. She wondered if this was simply because it was now the light of day and they were out of their party clothes. Seeing herself reflected in the glass, Sarah tidied her hair, pulling it over her shoulder and putting it into a fishtail plait. It looked darker than usual and thicker too and she wondered what the traveller women might have put into it, presumably at the same time they had gifted her with her fake tan. Feeling better prepared, Sarah stepped from the caravan. She looked around her and wondered which of the many caravans and camper vans would hold her mother. “Hey Sorcha!” One of the women she had seen from inside called. Sarah looked at her, realising that at a distance the traveller woman had made a mistake and had imagined that she was this Sorcha. Sarah guessed it was not surprising given that she had come from that specific caravan, was dressed in what might have been Sorcha’s clothes and had the fake tan that she was no doubt also covered with. “Hey, there.” Sarah responded though she found she knew that the woman was Erin. “Good night, last night.” The second woman who Sarah now remembered to be Aisling, added. “Sure,” Sarah responded, her voice sounding peculiar to her ears. “Sure was.” Sarah decided to head away from them not wanting to be asked too many questions; she worried what might happen if they found out she was not this Sorcha. It was not far until she recognised the caravan that belonged to Dwyer. She heard voices coming from inside it. She tapped on the door and stepped inside. Her mother and husband were there as was Brianna and Danielle, Dwyer’s second daughter. They were eating breakfast. “Hello, love.” Sarah’s mother said. “Hello.” Sarah guessed she was going to have to get used to the way her mother appeared now, with the long permed tresses of dark hair and the fake tan on her skin; her face heavily made up. Annabelle, or she guessed she should think of her by her assumed name, Analetta, looked as if she fitted right in. The sleeveless fuchsia top with lace detailing which clung to her breasts, which Sarah guessed had been augmented by a push-up bra; the broad diamante belt and the short plum tube skirt and the black over-the-knee boots would have suited a woman twenty years younger than her. However, Analetta seemed unashamed in wearing them, clearly proud of her body and Sarah imagined she should be pleased to see her mother happy and not left a neurotic divorcee. Danielle offered her some tea and toast and Sarah accepted, realising how hungry she felt. She sat down opposite her mother. Sarah felt uneasy at how Brianna looked to be running her eyes over her. However, when she glanced at her again, Brianna responded with a warm smile, that seemed to signal contentment. Sarah guessed that coming out dressed like this probably helped reduce any tensions around her being the interloper. “I am surprised to see you up so early.” Sarah said to Analetta and Dwyer. “Why’s that? It’s late enough.” “But it was your wedding yesterday.” Both her mother and step-father laughed. “Well, it was mine in the respect I paid for it.” Dwyer chuckled. “We never had anything that fancy in our day, almost twenty-one years ago.” Sarah was a bit confused wondering if this was some kind of joke. “I didn’t see you drinking, did you have that much?” Brianna asked. “Could you forget: it was your sister’s wedding, Alannah. Remember your big sister?” “Step-sister.” Sarah murmured. Dwyer laughed. “So who was your daddy then? Analetta, you didn’t tell me that you sneaked off and got our Sorcha by another man.” “Dwyer, you know I am loyal to you, through and through. With the size of your bod, do you think I could be satisfied with anyone else?” Analetta joked. Sarah somehow knew that ‘bod’ was slang for Dwyer’s penis and rather than cackle at her mother’s comments she felt embarrassed at her parents behaving like teenagers. Was Dwyer her father? That seemed to be what Analetta was claiming and that indeed made Alannah her sister. They must be close in age and if Sarah was born nineteen years ago, then did that mean Alannah had been conceived out of wedlock? That did not seem to fit with the traveller pattern. Was it Alannah who was nineteen and she, Sarah who was seventeen? Somewhere in her mind there were memories of her doing ‘A’ levels and going to university, she would be too young for that. Then again, how long was it since she had been at school? Now she struggled to remember going there beyond thirteen. Sarah realised her mind had wandered. Could she have got so drunk the night before that she had forgotten that she had been at her sister’s wedding, even that she was not Dwyer’s daughter? Had she knocked her head? It all felt so strange. As she reflected on it, it seemed daft to envisage a different life. Why would her parents be lying to her? Dwyer had made some light jokes, but nothing of the scale she was thinking of. “Here, you haven’t seen the photos have you? Niall took these and uploaded them.” Analetta said turning a tablet round to Sarah. ‘Niall’ – the name jarred Sarah a little, but she was not certain why. She concentrated on the pictures now in front of her. They indeed showed Alannah in the wedding dress and there was Sarah close behind in the same kind of outfit in the turquoise shade, and her sisters and nieces around her. Why did she remember refusing to wear the dress and why did she think of these women as Dwyer’s relatives and not her own? She scrolled through the images. The ones in the hall did seem familiar until she came of the one that looked like her; not the way she thought of herself, but how she appeared now: fake tanned and with long black hair. She had her arm around Alannah now in her sequined bandeau, the tight PU shorts and long boots, hardly looking the blushing bride. Sarah stood between her and Danielle, her younger sister. Did she mean Alannah’s younger sister or her own? Was there a difference? Taking in the scene, Sarah found it difficult to accept that it was her in the middle especially dressed in that black and red latex outfit and those high shoes. Yet, were they not what she had found around her when she woke up? Could she have dressed like that? Sarah wondered what to do. It seemed impossible that everyone here believed this story if it was wrong. Was it her who had made a mistake? Had she dreamt of being this British university student when all along she had been Sorcha the traveller? “You’re not looking too good, my love.” Analetta said. “I think she just needs a bit of a rest; burning the candle at both ends last night.” Brianna observed. “Come I’ll get you back to the girls’ caravan, you probably just need a bit of a rest.” Sarah was not certain how to respond and simply yielded to Brianna taking charge. Soon she was walking back to the caravan where she had awoken, very conscious of the tight clothes she wore and the click of her heels on the ground. Soon they were in the caravan but rather than direct her to the bed Brianna sat her on a banquette at the table and made some tea. She came with the drinks to sit at the table. “What is happening? You’re part of this aren’t you? I spoke to you last night and then … then I think something changed.” It was vague in her memories and hard to make out what had happened from the story laid out by the photos she had just seen. “You are a tough one.” Brianna said giving a tight smile. “Usually I change the parent’s reality and that of the children follows, just like that. I thought, one daughter, easy to shift, even when you wouldn’t get involved, wear the dress, get the tan.” “Change the reality?” Sarah asked thinking she had misheard. “This is Ireland, we’re travellers; gypsies, if you like. You not heard of gypsy magic?” Sarah guessed she had, but like all such fantastical things she had dismissed them as having no place in her rational, university study world. “Why? Why me?” “Your mother, she’s a good woman; good for my son and for his daughters. For her I want her to fit in, to be happy. If she is happy then my son is happy; my granddaughters are happy. That is it, very simply.” “So you used magic to make her not simply marry a traveller, but become a traveller woman?” “Of course. Do you think her hair would be that long or her with that size of her diddies? It didn’t take much with her.” “Then why not just her, why me as well?” “That’s easy. Even with you away in England, if you’re calling up or coming over, tutting about what she’s doing, what she’s wearing, how she’s living, then all the time I’ve got something snagging at this reality, at best unsettling her, making her less happy; at worst causing an all-out reversion and that’s a failure for me.” “So you simply put me into this life?” “For sure. A beautiful traveller girl; gained a couple of years back and with a nice boy lined up for you. What more would you want?” Sarah made a scoffing sound. However, her head was spinning with what Brianna was saying. Part of her was refusing to accept it was real, part of her afraid that it was. “So what about my old life, my place at university, my room, my things?” “That’s all gone, erased. Someone else is in your place. You don’t need any of that Sorcha.” “I’m not Sorcha.” “Who says?” Brianna held up the passport for Sorcha Glansie. “It’s easy to fake something like that.” “Not in this case, that’s your reality. Sorcha Glansie, aged seventeen, Irish traveller, end of story.” “It can’t be, I am not her.” “Aren’t you? Who do you look like? Here with your tan, with your clothes just like your sisters, long hair, sexy body and speaking like an Irishwoman, not some girly from England called Sarah. You are Sorcha. Look and see. Look and see what is true. This is the truth.” Brianna held up a mirror and Sarah looked at her reflection with the long dark hair, the tanned skin and the make-up; dressed in the tight top, flaunting her full breasts. Seeing that woman she would think her an Irish traveller. As she made that concession, she felt as if something was slipping from her. She put her head down to the table, fighting to hold on to whatever it was; something so important in her mind. She felt exasperated, twisting as if she could chase after it and catch it. Tired she let go and breathed deeply. “Sorcha, Sorcha, you all right?” Sorcha looked up at her grandmother. “Feeling a bit, you know …” “It was late last night, why don’t you take a kip?” “Sure.” Sorcha stood up from the banquette and Brianna helped her on to her bed. Sorcha lay there as her grandmother removed her boots. She slid her legs in their shiny leggings over the counterpane, wondering why she felt so horny, but sleep demanded her attention. **** Anonymous 02/03/17 (Fri) 00:41:09 No.1809 Sorcha woke up to the sound of knocking. She sat up on the bed and checked her appearance in the mirror. “I’ll be there.” She called in her broad Irish accent. Then she saw that Brianna was sitting at the table reading a magazine. She dimly recalled feeling ill and being brought back by her grandmother. “It’s Niall, I’ll tell him.” Brianna said as she stood and went out the door, closing it behind her. Now Sorcha jumped up. Quickly she replaced her top with a sleeveless black one with vertical narrow PU stripes. She pulled out a pair of over-the-knee boots and zipped them up. She drew a brush through her hair and then worked on the pale pink on her lips and the eyeliner. Pausing to look in the mirror one more time, she felt please and went to the door. Brianna was there and it was she who invited him in, guiding Niall and Sorcha to the table while she took her magazine to chair further up the caravan. Sorcha recognised that she was going to be chaperoned. “I heard you’s feeling poorly, Sorcha.” She shook her head. “Better for seeing you though.” The response pleased the young man. “I’ve got something for you.” Niall pulled a small jewellery case from his pocket and flicked it open to show a gold necklace with the name ‘Sorcha’ in a cursive script. “Do you like it?” Sorcha smiled and planted a quick kiss on his lips, keen to feel more of what they had had last night. “I do, Niall. I like it, I like you and I like what we did last night.” Sorcha found herself bubbling out. Perhaps it was early days, but Sorcha suddenly could see herself with Niall as her man and knew it was something she wanted in so many ways. “That’s good. Let’s put it on.” Sorcha bent her head and lifted up her mass of dark hair. In moments the necklace was around her neck and closed. She felt it with her fingers, pleased that she wore it. “So, are you busy tonight? Would you like a drink?” Sorcha found herself shooting a glance at Brianna but she simply smiled. “Sure. Take me somewhere nice.” “I’ll do that.” **** As Sorcha stepped through the door of the church she paused for a moment to let her bridesmaids tend to the huge circular skirt of her wedding dress. She glanced over at her father walking beside her looking severe, but clearly proud and Sorcha guessed, holding back tears not wanting to reveal how affected he was by the event. The church was full with people from babies to the elderly, very many of them travellers, turned out in over-the-top styles, especially the women. Behind her in fluffed out cerise dresses were her sisters making an entourage. Now she was ready and as the music struck up and Sorcha began the walk towards the altar where her fiancée Niall stood, casting almost shy glances back up the aisle. Sorcha knew her life was sealed, living here in the heart of a traveller community; already pregnant with the traveller child of the man, who in the next few minutes would become her husband. Sorcha knew she was one sexy woman and she had ached to have Niall’s cock inside her. She was sure she would get ample opportunity tonight, at least after she had had a good dance. THE END  
  16. Crossing Over by Tang (wg, ug, racial) Esther Jenkins gazed from the window of the house. It was a single-storey stone and timber building with outhouses and a corral behind. The front served as a general store and at the back lay the rooms in which the Jenkins family lived. The store was just one element of her father’s plan. They had come here to northern Natal, on the very limit of the British Empire to raise cattle, run a place where settlers could buy supplies and to provide an education for the native people of the region. The foundations for the school had already been laid. While, Reginald Jenkins was a godly man, this was not simply to be a mission; he envisaged a small town developing, one that he would name Victoriatown for his mother and the queen. In her braver moments, Esther was content with the fact that she had come to southern Africa rather than taken a different option such as remaining at home with relatives. She reflected that by the age she was now, her mother had been married and soon would be giving birth to herself. Her three brothers, still at school back in England, had followed close behind. She imagined out here in Natal, however, her own future would be quite different. She was still uncertain if she welcomed that, but she never had any thought of defying her father’s plans, especially as at present there were no firm goals in her own mind to replace his designs. Esther liked her room as it had this window with the view over the remaining countryside of the Natal and beyond. The scenery in this country was certainly stunning. From this vantage point she could see down to what here was termed a ‘drift’, a ford across the river which divided the British territory from Zululand. The land on the other bank was no different to that on this side, but Esther knew that it was overlaid with invisible lines created by politicians in London that had such significance. Her father, however, took a pragmatic view of such things. He quite expected that one day the British would push into the Zulu lands or indeed the Boers expanding eastwards would do the job. However, in the meantime, he saw benefit from dealing with whoever controlled whatever lay beyond the river. It had been in only their second week here that two young Zulu men had crossed over and had even come up to the store. Esther had not known how to react to them. Dressed traditionally they looked very different from the Africans that she had seen in Durban and those who worked at the house. The two men had been shoeless and almost naked bar from knee-length cowhide skirts and the cows’ tails at their knees and elbows. Both had a distinctive ring around the top of their heads which seemed to be formed from coating their hair and forming it into this shape. Both men also carried shields and spears, but in a casual way, that to Esther seemed non-threatening. She guessed that in these lands it was no different from a white man going out with his rifle. Esther had heard the stories in Durban about the fearsome Zulu warriors and she had to admit that if they had been aggressive she was sure that the two she had seen would have been terrifying. However, she felt her father’s approach of trading with them and, in time, offering schooling was better than appearing simply to steal land. Though a little reassured, at the back of mind, Esther did wonder at the countless hordes of Zulus who might live just a short way beyond the rocky rise that formed that boundary of her view. Esther recognised that this morning she was a little apprehensive and wondered if such thoughts were the cause. This was the first time that her father had been away from the homestead since they had arrived and she imagined that contributed. For security, Reginald Jenkins had employed the tough old Boer, Mr. Roswach and other men from his family, either sons or nephews, Esther was not certain. She often heard the crack of their rifles being fired for practice and imagined they could decimate any raiding party reaching within a thousand yards of her home. Suddenly Esther’s gaze was caught by movement and bright colours. At the foot of the outcrop where a cave mouth was visible, she saw something unnaturally red. As she watched she realised it was the headdress, perhaps even a hat, worn by a native woman. From her stance she looked to be aged. As she moved around, Esther could make out the green shade of her dress and even the occasional glint in the sunlight of the beads she wore. Esther kept on watching, and then as smoke began to rise she realised that the woman had been starting a fire, she presumed to prepare the Zulu equivalent of breakfast. Esther was intrigued and, feeling now that she had to break through the invisible boundaries to reach out to someone in sight across the river, she went in hunt of her mother with an idea. **** Tang Transformation Master Posts: 111 Joined: Wed Feb 27, 2013 1:46 am Top Re: Crossing Over by Tang (wg, ug, racial) Postby Tang » Wed Mar 26, 2014 12:00 pm The cheeks of Esther and her mother Thora were glowing as they reached the top of the rise and they stopped to catch their breath. A short way off one of the Messrs. Roswach, drew his horse to a halt, his rifle resting on his hip. He looked apprehensive, scanning around him as if he anticipated the sudden appearance of a warband of Zulus. He remained a distance from the outcrop, apparently anxious not to draw in too close where his horse would be less effective. Esther was glad that the worst of the walk was over. Though she and her mother had dressed in plain, robust bodices and skirts, clothes that in London would have seemed dowdy if not indeed workmanlike, these items now made her feel hot even though it was just mid-morning. Esther was glad that they had worn their broad-brimmed hats and stout walking boots purchased in Durban. She wondered at how the Zulus coped bare footed and hardly clothed, though for a moment mischievously she did ponder what it would feel like to feel the sun and the warm breeze on her naked body. “Almost there.” Thora said, smiling. Esther had a basket with a jar of fruit and some tea as gifts for their ‘neighbour’ and a blanket to sit on. Her mother clung to her pocket Bible, not that she was overly religious but she had been uncertain what she might do to pass the time and to engage the woman. It was apparent now that the Zulu woman had seen them. She was standing in front of her fire gesturing for the two Englishwomen to approach. In a few minutes they were with her, sitting in the shadow of the rock and with hints of cool air coming from the cave. Esther wondered why this woman was here. There appeared to be no Zulu settlement around. Seeing her age, possibly in her fifties, maybe even older, at first Esther surmised this was a ‘wise woman’ and that she was here as a kind of hermit. As she had spread out the blanket close to the fire and precariously lowered herself on to it, Esther had wondered instead if this woman might be more a warden or even a spy, to keep an eye on the frontier. That would explain why she was so welcoming to the two white women. However, Esther quickly dismissed that idea as uncharitable. Thora pulled out the jar and the tea from the basket and offered them across to the old woman. She took them with smiles and with some trial and error got the fruit jar open and taking out a preserved pear ate it with small bites, smiling and indicating she found it tasty. In return she passed over strips of dried meat that Esther and her mother took and bit into. They were chewy but tasty. As she ate, Esther looked over the old woman. Her skin was as dark as that of the Africans at the homestead, it had a shininess that was distinctive of them and reminded Esther of ebony. The woman had a lean frame with slender arms, but her breasts were large and seemingly kept up by the dress she wore. Strings of bright beads decorated her chest. Her headdress, however, was the most striking feature, like red bowl of reeds which Esther would now see was actually threaded into her hair. Crouched on her haunches, the woman busied herself with a pot which sat close to the fire into which she would drop heated stones. She had a selection of herbs that she put in and to which she now added the tea she pulled from the packet. “Thora. I am Thora.” She said pointing at herself. The Zulu woman looked up and nodded and then turned to Esther. “Esther.” The woman nodded again and then said something in her own language, that sounded like a flood of syllables. Esther wondered if it was a greeting. She halted, clearly aware that the two visitors were not comprehending. “Nolwazi. Nolwazi.” Esther tried to take in the name, to alter it a little to fit sounds she knew. The closest she came in her mind was something like ‘Knoll-was-he’. It sounded a curious name, but she imagined hers would have seemed as peculiar to this Zulu. Thora gave a big yawn and as Esther looked at her, she now looked to be rather pale, despite the impact of the sunshine. Esther worried how she had tired her mother out by this trek. The Zulu woman clearly noticed Thora’s weariness and began to mime the universal signs for tiredness and sleep. She stood and gestured to Thora to follow. It was apparent that the woman was suggesting Esther’s mother went into the cool of the cave. “That seems a good idea.” Thora agreed and let her daughter help her to her feet. In moments they were in the cave, which whilst narrow at the mouth opened up quickly beyond. Near the entrance, mats on dried grass lay on the floor and the Zulu gestured for Thora to lie on one. She did and Esther took another so that she could watch over her. She marvelled at how different this was to a drawing room in London, but then delighted in the fact that she was experiencing things that her friends back home would never do. Thora smiled at her daughter. Esther reached over to remove her hat and fold it to form some kind of pillow. The Zulu woman appeared behind her, clearly having gone quickly to the fire. She held two beakers in her hands and nodded to Esther to help her mother to sit up. Then she pressed the beaker to Thora’s lips. As she drank colour returned quickly to the Englishwoman’s cheeks and soon she had taken the beaker and drunk to the bottom. As she was offered the other beaker, Esther took it and nodded her thanks. The concoction was warm but refreshing, with a blend of flavours only one of which she recognised as the tea they had brought. Finishing the drink she sat back on her mat. Now the Zulu woman began to hum and to sing something very softly. Thora slumped back on the mat and closed her eyes. From feeling refreshed Esther now found she was weary herself and put it down to the heat and the walk. The singing of the Zulu woman was soothing and she let herself slump on to the mat watching as the African walked up and down her mother, moving her hands a short way over her body as if warding certain spirits away from her or perhaps, Esther reflected dimly, bringing them into her. With her thoughts clouded, sleep came for Esther. **** Anonymous 02/03/17 (Fri) 00:28:01 No.1816 As she opened her eyes, Esther felt disorientated. She blinked and then looked again, realising that she was on her back and viewing the ceiling of the cave. The light cast across it from the mouth suggested it was sometime shortly after dawn. She tried to recall all that had happened the day before, but it was very distant, as if it had happened to another woman and the details were simply scenes she had witnessed not taken part in. She wondered how her mother was and hoped that the rest had been sufficient that she would be well enough to allow them to get back to their home. Esther sat up and found she had been lying on a blanket resting on grass cut from the veldt. She was pleasantly surprised that for such a rough bed she was not stiff, in fact she felt invigorated and her muscles seemed to pulse with a new strength. Maybe there was something to be said for the Zulu remedies. A small fire close by had burnt down to embers but with the dawn light penetrating the cave, Esther saw that now two Zulu women lay sleeping. One she recognised as the elderly Nolwazi; now she found it easy to recall her name. The other was a younger woman. With the natives’ bodies being so rounded and full and their skin having that slick tautness it was difficult to tell their age, this woman could have been the same age as Esther’s mother. Like Nolwazi, she wore a circular red hat woven into her hair. Leaving her shoulders bare was a loose blue dress but it did little to conceal the line of her large pendulous breasts and heaped on them were black beads. Beneath was a long cowhide skirt. Now Esther was a little apprehensive and wondered where her mother might be. It seemed unlikely that she would have gone without her daughter. Maybe Nolwazi had moved her away from the mouth of the cave. Not wanting to disturb the two Zulu women, Esther stood quietly and looked deeper inside. Her attention was caught by white and tan clothing. At first she thought she had seen her mother, but then recognised the items were simply folded. Everything was there, two sets, including hats and boots. As Esther recognised her own clothes, a jolt went through her. Now in the weak light of the cave she studied her own body, the naked breasts with bright beads resting on them. She felt down to the short grass skirt she wore, itself fringed with beads. For a moment Esther wondered if she was dreaming, to be dressed so scandalously. Then she recognised that she had been misleading herself and should have recognised from the moment she felt the blanket on her skin that her clothes had been removed. Esther felt weak and steadied herself against the rock wall. She had little idea of Zulu custom, but it appeared that at some stage Nolwazi and probably this other woman too, had undressed both her and Thora and attired them in clothes typical of Zulu women. She trusted that her mother being older had been put into something closer to what the two sleeping wore. Esther told herself it was not as bad as it could have been. Whilst the clothes, if they could really be called that, which she now wore, would have shocked the population of London, here there was no-one to see her. Her own clothes were in front of her and, aside from the newcomer there would not be any other witnesses. She was grateful that others from the tribe, particularly men, had not arrived during the night. Esther now hurried to her clothes. She picked up her bodice wanting to cover her breasts. However, she struggled to get her arms into it, her flesh was squeezed by the sleeves and it proved impossible to close it at the front. Removing the grass skirt, she turned to the skirt she had worn the day before, but had barely lifted it beyond her knees before it became stuck. She heaved it but it was apparent that it was not going to pass her buttocks let alone reach her hips. Now she felt bewildered. Had her clothes somehow shrunk in the night? She took off the skirt and looked at it. It certainly looked like what she had been wearing the day before, but now she imagined that she and her mother might not have been the first white visitors here and these clothes had been left by someone else. Less charitably she wondered if they had been stolen. Leaving the bodice ill-fitting around her, she put back on the grass skirt for fear of tripping over. Esther looked at the other pile of clothes and they did look like her mothers and she hoped they would fit Thora. However, she could imagine these Zulu women had little idea of the sizes of such clothes and had put out these for Esther and Thora to wear not realising they might be ill-suited. Esther decided to walk back to the mouth of the cave and see if she could locate her mother. As soon as she came into the brighter light, she was stunned by what she saw. Her skin was no longer the colour it had been the day before, it was now a dark brown shade all over. She felt weak; not believing it was real. She gazed down at her large breasts in place of pert ones of before; the rosebuds of nipples now replaced by nut-like ones set in large, black areolae. Her hips were broad and her arms and legs muscular. As she reached for her head she realised her hair was short and pulled back tightly just as she had seen in the images of young Zulu women. The walls of the cave seemed to spin and Esther felt queasy, her legs weakening. She struggled to sit, but unconsciousness took her. **** Anonymous 02/03/17 (Fri) 00:28:20 No.1817 Esther was aware of water being pushed to her lips and she sipped it, thankful. She guessed she had had some kind of nightmare. However, quickly she became conscious that she was not in her own bed, the feel of the rock beneath her and the smell of smoke told her she was in the cave. Quickly she opened her eyes, wondering still whether the view of herself turned into a Zulu had not been a hallucination brought on by the heat or the herbs Nolwazi had given her. “Enezezelo.” It was Nolwazi crouched beside with the beaker of water. “Enezezelo.” The woman repeated softly. For some reason the name felt familiar to Esther, not alien. She guessed it was a Zulu word. Esther hesitated for a few moments but then lifted her hand. Her skin was still the dark brown of a Zulu woman, though her mind could not believe the truth of it. “What have you done to me? How have you done this?” Esther demanded of Nolwazi, though she was incredulous still of such magic. “I have brought you to us.” Nolwazi responded calmly. “So you do speak English.” Esther responded irritably. “No, now you are a Zulu, we speak isiZulu.” “No, no, that is not possible.” “It is possible. I have many powers. You are not the first I have brought into the Zulu nation.” Esther shook her head unwilling to accept it, believing it was still simply her eyes that were being tricked. “I am Es… Est- the – her…” She tried to say, but the name was difficult to pronounce. “No, that woman is gone, you are Enezezelo, you are a Zulu woman, an izintombi.” “That is impossible, that I cannot accept. You must change me back.” “Why would I do that? Why would I deny the amaZulu, the Zulu people, one fine woman?” “You can do it?” “I have never done it.” Esther gave a heavy sigh, but her mind was scrambling through all the implications of what this meant. “And my mother is not gone, that is her there.” She indicated the woman still sleeping. “Of course, she is your mother, Tholakele.” “Tholakele.” Esther repeated. Nolwazi smiled as Esther pronounced it correctly. Esther worried what impact on her mother waking up as a Zulu woman would have. “Why have you done this to us? We showed you nothing but kindness.” “Yes, that was why I gave you this gift. Too many of the white people are harsh or hostile. You two instead came to me and I was grateful, I gave you this gift.” “This gift?” “Of course, to be part of the great Zulu nation is a wonderful gift. Your husband will be a powerful warrior; your children will be an important part of the Zulu people.” “My husband? My children?” “Of course, a fine beautiful woman like yourself will have suitors, though I have in mind some in particular.” “I cannot think of that.” It was true, though Esther had lived under the assumption that one day she would be married to a dashing man from Durban or Cape Town, it had been very much the appearance of marriage that she thought of. Of course, her body had had yearnings and her dreams had featured desires but she had pushed them aside as a proper young lady must. She knew things would be different now that was dressed so scantly. “Your mother too, is still of child bearing age, especially with the revitalising and fertility herbs I particularly added to what she drunk; you had no need of those. As a widow she will no doubt soon fine another husband, her beads signal her availability.” “A widow? My father, he still lives.” Nolwazi laughed but not unkindly. “Would he recognise his wife, his daughter; could he even understand them? The father that created this Zulu woman,” Nolwazi gestured to Esther, “does not exist. You are your mother’s daughter that is clear, but as for the father, he must have passed over.” Esther felt exasperated, but knew that Nolwazi was showing clear logic. “Imagine the Zulu half-brothers and sisters that your mother will produce.” “Pickaninny children.” Esther said dismissively. However, into her mind came the image of Zulu babies, chubby and snuggling. Then she shuddered as the image gave her a frisson. “You are thinking of your own children, strong Zulu children, coming from your fertile loins, strengthening the Zulu people.” Without thinking, Esther brought her arms together as if cradling a baby suckling at her full breasts. A child feeding from these would grow big and strong, as a Zulu woman she could nourish them far better that she could have done with her austere white body. “Yes.” Esther found she could not lie. Nolwazi patted her and smiled. “You will soon be an umame – mother.” Esther found a strange glow in her as if what she was being told was correct, perhaps even more that it was good, it was something which gave her pleasure. She wondered if that was because she now wore a Zulu body, or whether she was having her views shifted by Nolwazi. Whatever was doing it, she wanted more of the sensation though distantly she wondered what she would pay in return. “Could you find me a good man, Nolwazi?” Esther stopped herself, uncertain where that request had come from. “A man to be my husband, to give me babies?” The words came without bidding but they brought with them more of the pleasurable sensation. “Strong, Zulu babies?” Esther grunted with the sensation, this felt so right to be saying as if before she had been pushing against the tide and now that she was going with it, everything was so much better. “Of course. There is a man I know who is ideal for you, Ayize, my son. You will meet him, you will love him; he become your husband very soon and will fill you with his seed, with babies.” “Ayize.” Esther repeated the name, wondering what Nolwazi’s son would look like, but she was sure he would be strong and well-built. As these thoughts entered Esther’s mind she found herself excited by the thought, stirrings in her sex, in her breasts all over herself, thinking now blatantly of a man, a Zulu warrior, seeing her like this, attracted to her, kissing her, holding her, sliding his flesh deep within her. “Yes, you are ready, you need a man, that is what one fine izintombi like you, Enezezelo definitely needs.” From beyond the remains of the fire, the woman who had been Thora stirred, muttering words, for the first time in isiZulu. Seeing this Enezezelo stood up, keen to see how her mother was. As she did she stopped herself. The name Enezezelo was now how she had thought of herself, but that was … wrong. She tried to grasp another name, but it skidded away from her. Her mother was waking and she now focused on that. “Tholakele.” Nolwazi said softly. “Tholakele.” She repeated. Enezezelo knelt by her mother wondering why the name had sounded so strange to her for a moment. However, the woman she knew as Tholakele opened her eyes and sat up with a jolt. **** Anonymous 02/03/17 (Fri) 00:28:36 No.1818 Enezezelo knew she was dreaming. It was a dream which she had had frequently since she had become engaged to Ayize. She was stood on a hill overlooking a river. She was not herself but in some other form, perhaps of a spirit or inhabiting a bird, she was never certain. However, as she looked down the hill she saw a white woman approaching, moving forward and upwards at a steady pace. As she walked she changed subtly, her clothes faded away and her naked body altered: the skin darkened and darkened, taking on a wonderful sheen; her hips and breasts became much fuller; her limbs muscled; her hair went from a pale brown to black and from being pinned up to being long and loose to being short to her head. Enezezelo was sure that this woman was coming to join the Zulus and once had wondered if she would not find the work hard. Then she reminded herself that it was no harder than being down in that building by the river, cleaning the house, preparing food, looking after cattle and all of that burdened down with clothes that must make it harder. Coming to the Zulus must represent a release for her, a beautiful woman allowed to be seen as beautiful as she was. Somehow she knew that this woman had female cousins who might come to the building by the river and she was certain they too could be drawn over to the Zulu side. By the time the woman reached Enezezelo’s viewpoint, it was clear this was a fine Zulu woman dressed in a short skirt of grass and beads. Enezezelo admired her prominent nipples in their dark areolae and would recall how much she herself had enjoyed walking around proudly with her breasts exposed. With her engagement however, things had changed. She now modestly covered herself and her hair had been allowed to grow long and her red beads showed how much she loved her prospective husband. Now in the dream she turned and saw coming from the other way, herself with the large red headdress of a married woman and a baby in her arms. Ayize in all of his regalia walked beside her. She knew Nolwazi had had a vested interest in marrying off her youngest son, but she had not let Enezezelo down when she had asked for a man who could protect and make her feel safe. Once he had offered the beads to express his interest in her, she had not delayed in agreeing. Enezezelo awoke, feeling it was embarrassing to be sleeping on her wedding night, though it had been a long and tiring day. Outside in the village compound the noise of the celebrations continued. She had been apprehensive about coming here, but Nolwazi’s standing had meant any jealousies were well hidden or indeed were soon gone. In a nation in which men had multiple wives, it was in fact easy to assimilate a new woman than an additional man, especially one at an age to provide future warriors to the tribe. At first Enezezelo had wondered if she had simply accepted Ayize because it fitted Nolwazi’s plan but she had quickly grown to appreciate him for his own merits, which she guessed, in part from him being well-tutored by his influential mother. She had been genuinely delighted when he had paid the bride price of cattle to her step-father. As a widow, it had not taken long for Tholakele to be snapped up by an important man in the tribe. She had become Celokwakhe’s fourth wife, but the only one still capable of bearing children. Enezezelo had moved with her mother into Celokwakhe’s household where fortunately his other wives treated her as if she was their niece. It had not been long after the wedding that Tholakele had become pregnant and Enezezelo knew that she would soon have a half-brother or sister. At times, Enezezelo imagined that she already had brothers, but found it difficult to place them. She put it down to something from her dreams of the white woman who for some reason was wrapped up in her future. Certainly Enezezelo knew that whatever challenges she had in coming here they were nothing compared to what such a woman would have faced. Not for the first time, she pitied that woman and those like her, so shackled by their lives and the uncomfortable clothes that bound them and furthermore unable to really appreciate the beauty of the lands they had intruded into. Enezezelo heard movement outside the hut and she stood, checking that her dress showed her breasts and hips to their best. For the wedding, her hair had been made into a cylindrical shape rising from the head and she wondered whether it would cause difficulties when she leant back. She shuddered as she thought of her new husband’s umthondo sliding through the malebe into her golo, she could feel herself already wet with manzi running from it. As Ayize entered, in the low light of the hut, she could see that the head ring was now in place marking him out as a married man. She let him come in a few more paces before going to kiss him. As she pressed against him she could feel his umthondo bulging. She had some idea of its size from occasions when he had been unable to disguise his pleasure in seeing her and it had lifted his skirt. She knew that a bull would not be disappointed in one of this size. Part of her wanted to feel it filling her golo, but she was also afraid. Her virginity had been verified and she wondered what discomfort it would cause when he came like a bull to her. Now Ayize pulled away Enezezelo’s dress and released her full round breasts. Their nipples were throbbing with the thrill she felt, standing out black and hard from her breasts. Ayize stooped to take one into his mouth and Enezezelo almost shrieked in delight at the sensation that ran through her. He turned to the other, leaving the first wet and sensitive as his fingers grasped it. Now she began to understand the coded statements Nolwazi had made in the preceding days about Enezezelo not having to worry about her son being ignorant of the ‘dry milking’, though she wondered still about what ‘feasting from the two legged table’ meant. As her other nipple was released, Enezezelo worried she would lose consciousness, that she would fall into a slumber or be shaken out of this to find it was only a dream. She clung on to the sensations, willing herself to stay alert to them, to remain in this existence, not slip carelessly into some other. Ayize now undid her cowskin skirt and let it fall to the floor. He turned to strip away his own and his umthondo appeared fully in its glory, long, thick and curved, it throbbed. Enezezelo simpered as she knew it was her, her welcoming, full, rounded body that was causing that effect. He rubbed the dark tip up and down her slippery malebe, engorging them further and opening her up to receive him. However, for the moment, he held back. Enezezelo was confident with the evidence of his arousal that she had done nothing wrong and was intrigued what would happen next. With his strong arms, Ayize lifted her up and lowered her on to the skins on the floor. However, rather than thrusting into her he slid down so his head nuzzled between her thighs and his tongue flicked against what Nolwazi had playfully called her ‘iklwa’ after the Zulu short stabbing spear, the one part of her that she knew from her own play could bring such pleasure. Now her husband’s long tongue strokes rasped against it, sending Enezezelo’s mind spiralling away. Her body felt lifted and thrummed with energy. She never wanted this to cease and she squirmed beneath the weight of Ayize at once both wanting it to continue and yet almost unable to tolerate it any more. Now she knew her husband was feasting, and this was a table from which she would often want him to eat. Enezezelo’s body and mind hovered as if on the edge of a fever, of a delirium. She was bereft as Ayize pulled back, but then she felt his umthondo return to her malebe. Lubricated by her manzi, he thrust through deep into her golo and she shrieked as he penetrated hard. Breaking the proof of her maidenhood he was deep inside her, filling her in a way that she would never have believed. She felt as if she wanted to encompass him, to seal his flesh within her. The coming down of his body revived the excitement of her iklwa and she pressed up against him as if convulsed. As he slid back and forth, his chest above her face so that his umthondo curved deep and high within her, Enezezelo felt detached from the world and her body simply in a place of pleasure. Then Ayize groaned and halted, slumping against her slick breasts. He jerked repeatedly, spraying deep inside her. Enezezelo knew what that meant and she trusted that she was now taking the first step to bearing a Zulu warrior. She was a good Zulu woman, doing the best for her husband and her tribe. While she welcomed the child, she knew she would insist on Ayize repeating what he had done tonight on many occasion. Then all thoughts were swept aside as Enezezelo’s body was shot through with sensation, her eyes filled with white light and her senses were blasted with pleasure. THE END.  
  17. The High Cost of Tanning by Julien Sorel (Race Change) Author's note: This story isn't much like a Blairbrek story, but I intended it as a tribute to Blairbrek. — Kate walked into the tanning salon, wearing a lovely, tiny white silk dress and leather thong sandals, and carrying an ex