..:: Story – The Origins of Temp Girl ::..

So my friend Fragile at FA spotted this gem a little back on the web. No idea who wrote it -_- but the story is certainly lengthy and vast and follows the character off Blasie’s character, Temp girl into a fully fleshed out character. Always a joy to have content to show off on the subject, just wish I knew wrote it… ‘https://docs.google.com/document/d/…..a_wRCbbv8/edit‘

 

My name is Theresa Gaynes, and I have just undergone the most extraordinary experience of my life. I hate my name, though, so you can call me T.G. – all my friends do. It’s a joke, really, given my chosen line of work – I am a professional temp. The work is surprisingly steady, the pay is shockingly decent, and it satisfies my wanderlust. Before I fell into “perma-temping” I bounced around a lot. The crappy economy didn’t give me many options, and I applied to a temp agency in a fit of desperation. I started working a few weeks after that, and just haven’t stopped. My friends are amazed at how steady my work has been, and regard it as my superpower. They call me “Temp Girl”, or T.G. for short. Like I said, it’s a joke, and it’s better than my real name.

Day 1

My story begins one cold autumn night, when I was lying asleep in my bed. I don’t honestly know what triggered it. I’d had a bad migraine that day, and soothed my pounding head with lots of yummy tea and way too much Internet. I got sucked into TV Tropes, and wound up losing a good four hours – I looked up and the sun had gone down. Downing another handful of acetaminophen, I went to sleep. It wasn’t very restful – lots of weird dreams. The weirdest, though, was what started my journey. A gray landscape stretched all around me, being both a desert wasteland and a city in the strange simultaneity of dreams. Streetlights flickered in the gloom, and strange noises echoed weirdly in the distance.

I stood beneath the only stable streetlamp, trying to pierce the haze that surrounded me. I wore my favorite sweater and a short-ish skirt. From the shadows burst a figure that vaguely resembled Sailor Moon, but her face was wrong. Blank, like it didn’t have eyes, or maybe they were hidden? Her trademark sailor uniform clung to her body like tight silk, her curves enhanced and warped to be some sex-crazed otaku’s wet dream. Between her legs, though, something throbbed.

At first I thought she was a dickgirl – I’m no stranger to that sort of thing. But the harder I looked (and for some reason I could not look away) the more I realized that the sphere of warm, pulsating flesh between her girlishly slender thighs was not a scrotum. No, it was her pussy. It was huge, about the size of a soccer ball. It was covered in a light tracing of veins, and clear ropes of feminine juices clung to and stretched between the slightly parted, flushed lips.

I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could say anything the strange vision shouted something in Japanese. Maybe it was in English, but with a heavy Japanese accent? Discerning it was impossible. Her wand flashed like lightning, and an arc of energy jerked from it to my body. I put my arms up reflexively, attempting to shield myself, but I felt it connect. It didn’t hit my torso or my head, though. It latched onto my body… onto my vagina.

My skirt flipped up due to the force of the crackling blue energy, and I realized that my dream-self forgot to wear panties. That thought fell to the wayside, however, due to the tummy-melting orgasm that tore through me a heartbeat later. I felt blood rushing to my sex as I screamed, my eyes rolling back into my head. I tried to reach my pussy, to protect it or to stimulate it – I’m not sure – but my body wouldn’t respond.

For a long minute I stood there; my back arching, my toes curling and my lungs heaving as I came again and again. At last the energy dissipated, and I fell. But nothing caught my fall – the ground ceased to be as soon as the beam winked out, and I cried out as grey clouds rushed past me. I fell and fell, screaming, my sex thick between my legs, throbbing.

I bolted awake, sweaty and tangled in my sheets, as I fell off of my bed. All that thrashing made me push myself off of the bed, and I landed with a loud thud. My cat was howling and my alarm blaring as I tried to unwrap myself.

“Fuck!” I cried, tearing at my sheets. Misty, my cat, continued to howl at the indignity I had caused her with my nocturnal acrobatics. I shooed her away, and finally unraveled the knot that was my pajamas and bedsheets. I was exhausted, but my headache was finally gone. I slapped the top of my alarm to silence it, and then realized I was late. I leaped over the bed, tearing off what few clothes I had left on, and ran into the shower. My oversleeping prevented me from enjoying a full morning routine, but the hot water of the shower woke me up enough. Drying my frizzy hair I made toast, and then dressed for work while it heated up.

Since that day was the first day at a new job, I wore my power underwear – a well-worn pair of sexy black lacy panties and a matching bra that never failed to fill me with confidence. My nethers were sensitive as I pulled the cozy cotton snug against them, but I mentally waved it off as a side effect of not enjoying my routine morning masturbation. I considered myself in the mirror – average height, a bit on the chubby side but not in a detrimental way. My boobs were heavy, pillow-soft and shaped like fat teardrops, capped with tawny nipples with wide aureolae. They got crinkly and thick when I got turned on, and I loved having them sucked and played with. My tits were more than a handful each, and my bra budget suffered accordingly. My black undies cupped and caressed my curves and made me feel sexy. My drying hair was a brown, frizzy-wavy mess, but I had long ago learned to love it – my friends all thought it had great character.

I pulled on my favorite sweater and shimmied into a pair of khaki slacks, grunting a bit at the effort necessary to get them pulled up and over my hips.

“Watch those late-night pizzas,” I muttered to myself. The tightness only accentuated the buzz in my privates, but I pushed that need to the side. I needed to make a good impression today, and my weird dreams put me at a disadvantage by making me sleep in.

My dream.

I stopped in my tracks and stood still, the vivid imagery of my dream coming back into my head. The bizarre appearance of my attacker, the mind-blowing chain orgasms, flooded through my mind. My hand, without me really telling it, snuck down my belly and towards my sex. Just before it touched my cloth-covered crotch the toast popped, startling me. I gasped, the spell broken. I pushed the thoughts away for good this time as I slipped on my sneakers and grabbed the toast from its hot little home. Grunting a goodbye to my cat, I walked out the door, bag and coat and keys in my hand, toast shoved haphazardly into my mouth.

That entire day proved challenging to my demeanor and concentration . I found my mind constantly wandering, though I chalked it up to the mind-numbing boredom of. I kept drifting off into fantasies, lewd visions of sweaty, hot sex with old flames and mysterious strangers. Between my legs, my nethers were tender and sensitive, every little move of my thighs sending sparks through my clit and up my spine. My pants felt tight, especially in the crotch. I did my best not to fidget and pay attention, but it was hard. Bathroom and lunch breaks didn’t afford me any extra time to rub one out in the ladies room – not that I normally indulged in such workplace shenanigans, but I was starting to get desperate.

The end of the day found me flushed, but still in control of my wandering hands. I hugged the (cute, black-haired, hazel-eyed) trainer (owner of The Cutest Ass) perhaps a bit too tight and then ducked out, thankful for the cool late-autumn air. I sighed audibly as I walked out to my car, feeling heat radiating from my reddened face. Sitting in the car, I gave serious contemplation to going home, tearing off my pants, and engaging in a right proper wankfest… but I had plans that night. Grinding my teeth in frustration I turned on my car and headed for my regular watering hole, a little pub called McCrackens. I had agreed to meet there with my friends and toast my recent position.

Food and drink offered a slightly better distraction, as did conversing with my friends. I found myself relaxing, able to finally rid my head of the lewd thoughts that had been plaguing me all day. Until, of course, our conversation turned to the ribald. Young twenty/thirtysomethings, still in the prime of our youth and full of drama, we shared our latest tales of love and lust. Sherri gushed about her new bedmate, a dirty punk grrl she picked up at a show two nights before. Two days of fucking had left them rumpled and sore, but even now they could barely keep their hands off of one another. Taylor lamented a missed opportunity, his big mouth shutting down a hot librarian who’d flirted with him earlier that day. She’d led him into the stacks, her fingers lingering on his forearms and shoulders (he has the sexiest forearms, seriously) but he blurted out an incorrect factoid about the author in question… and she corrected him. He’d left the library in shame. The table encouraged him to return, and given his blushes he probably would.

The scenarios my friends spun danced in my head. I saw them, in various states of undress, unhindered by social mores and decency. Hot mouths locked onto succulent flesh. Flawed bodies rendered beautiful by passion and lusty need. Cum, from girls and boys alike, gushing and swallowed, a lover’s treasure to keep safe inside one’s belly. I couldn’t stand it anymore. Lest I molest one of my circle of friends I stood up, hardly an hour into the evening’s revels, and said my goodbyes. I threw a crumpled handful of cash onto the table and power-walked out, the crotch of my jeans still feeling tight.

I sped home, and how I avoided a ticket I do not know. After I slammed the door shut and locked it I kicked off my shoes, sending Misty dashing for cover. My jeans came off, bringing a sudden rush at the relief in pressure. I tore off my panties, now soaking wet, and unclipped my bra, pulling it out from beneath my sweater. The gentle pressure of my slightly-tight top on my big, free tits, combined with the slight roughness of its fabric on my nipples, was delicious.

Biting my lip I flicked my laptop to life. Done with foreplay I went for the orgasmic jugular, pulling up the nastiest gangbang video I had ever bookmarked. It was raunchy, full of spit and precum and flesh-dimpling fingers. The woman was a wanton goddess, some slightly aged pornstar, but utterly glamorous in her smeared mascara and messy lipstick. She gulped down cock like she hadn’t eaten for a week, and her pussy and ass were never unoccupied. Cum pumped into every hole, nary a drop escaping thanks to the cut, faceless men who plugged each spermy cavity with their hard cocks.

My hand was a blur across my clit, tracing circles and swirls in the patterns that only I knew, learned thanks to countless hours of practice. My cries mingled with the tinny noise of the video, and I came hard. My pussy gushed – something of a rarity – soaking my leather office chair with thick bands of slimy girlcum. My orgasm racked my body and sent me into fits of twitching and gasping. The fantasies in my head melted away, and I returned again to the sensations from my dream the night before. My world reduced to just my sex, that intricate flower of womanhood, and its complex fluttering as I orgasmed.

After a long minute, my convulsions gave a final twitter, and abated. I slumped back in my chair, spent, sticky and splayed. Giving a little shiver, I sat up and began the unsexy task of cleaning my mess. I wiped myself and the chair with my undies, which had spent this entire time speared by my ankle. I hissed at how tender and sensitive my poor little pussy felt – she was hot to the touch, and still quite swollen from all the stimulation she’d suffered throughout the day.

I took care of the rest of my evening’s chores bottomless, enjoying the tickle of my sweater against my bare, pebble-hard nipples. I made a quick meal, fed my cat, and spent an hour or so watching Netflix. The entire time my sore sex throbbed, but it was the dull ache of post-orgasmic bliss, not the lusty fires that had licked my nethers the whole day long. The sensation was pleasant; a constant reminder of my sex and all her infinite subtlety.

Deciding to turn in early, I put on a clean pair of undies (plain white cotton panties, nothing fancy), an oversized t-shirt (Pantera’s Cowboys From Hell tour – a cheesy Goodwill find that is the most comfortable thing I own) and went to bed. Given my evening’s consumption, I felt confident that my sleep would be quite restful.

Day 2

Pretty sure that was when I jinxed myself. If I just hadn’t thought of my weird dreams from the night before, they would have been gone forever, and whatever strange effect they’d had on me would never have progressed.

That night, the dreams were even more bizarre, even more sexually charged. My dreams were one long, continuous parade of fucking. The pornstars that had so dutifully reamed their female counterpart, the video that I had masturbated to, ravaged me. My holes stretched wide, each one sheltering two or more massive, throbbing cocks. The phantom dream-men mauled my big breasts, suckling and nipping and even chewing on the thick nubs of my nipples, and the fatty tissue of my breasts themselves. Mouths found my clit and the spaces between my dick-stuffed nethers, tongues worming their way into my hot, sensitive flesh where no earthly lovers could possibly reach. Cum filled me, overflowed from me. I was a goblet of flesh, a vessel into which virile seed was poured into. They worshiped me, their orgasms offerings and sacraments and sacrifices to my goddess-body.

Hands and mouths and tongues of all genders and none slid over me, spreading thick sheets of holy sperm across my plump flesh. Pussies pressed into my skin and face, drowning me in the smell and taste of woman. They were hairy and smooth, virgin-tight and mother-worn, some were warm, some were hot, but they were all slick. These disembodied genitalia found my fingers and toes and impaled themselves on my extremities. I even felt large vaginas fighting tongues (perhaps the vaginas contained tongues!?) to draw my breasts into their hot, slippery depths. No part of me was not involved in the sexual act. It was overwhelming. I felt so loved and desired, so turned on, but no amount of attention brought the sweet release I craved.

Then, without warning, it all vanished. I stood once again on that street corner from the night before, the weird city-wasteland stretching to infinity all around me. Naked, still coated in the fluid leavings of my dream-lovers, I shivered. Between blinks the weird nightmare-vision of Sailor Moon appeared again. She said something in Japanese. The inflection sounded like a question.

“What?” I asked, my voice sounding funny, like someone had grabbed hold of a record or a tape and was slowing it down. “I don’t understand… what’s happening?”

She cried out, I recognized the phrase from my first dream, and once again my cunt was subject to an orgasmic beam attack. The blue lightning latched onto my sex, sending sensation through my pelvic floor and straight up my spine. It felt like someone had plugged my clit into an electrical socket, but there was no pain. Just overwhelming pleasure. I climbed higher and higher to climax, but just as I was about to peak…

… I woke up. Panting, blinking sweat from my eyes, I bolted up. My panties were shoved down my chubby thighs, my hand stuffed between them, knuckle-deep in my sex. I growled, throwing myself back onto my pillow. I ripped off my panties, the second pair in less than 24 hours I’d soiled with my juices. I lay there, spread-eagle, gasping like a pornstar as I frigged myself. I turned over onto my belly, pushing my hips up with my knees, wishing with all my heart someone was behind me. Man or woman, it didn’t matter – I just needed someone to fuck my hot, throbbing cunt. A hunger yawned inside of me; a primal need to be filled and fucked. I heard my heart pounding in my throat and ears as I screamed into my pillows. Finally I peaked, and once again my pussy gushed. A tiny part of myself thought I’d lost bladder control, but I was beyond caring. A thick stream of fluid poured out of me, and between my thighs and the tangle of my hair I could see the path it described, arcing like a ribbon of silver in the moonlight.

I screamed and screamed, cumming hard not once but twice. I collapsed in a damp, twitching heap, my breathing ragged and hard. Childhood asthma flared, giving me a coughing fit, but I tamped it down. My thighs quivered, slick with my juices. I hugged my legs tight to my body, pressing them together, feeling my sex flutter in the aftershocks of orgasm.

“Fffffuck,” I croaked, clamboring out of bed onto knees as shaky as a newborn foal. Stumbling into the kitchen, I poured myself a big glass of sweet tea and gulped it down. Tottering back to bed, I fell onto the bed, even more tired than I had been when I went to sleep. I tucked my hand between my thighs, cupping my abused pussy in the palm of my hand. Sleep and orgasm fuzzed my brain, and I did not register just how big it felt.

I woke with a start, hours later, to my alarm going off. Groaning, I shut it off and sat up. My bed, and my fingers, smelled like my pussy. Not terribly shocking, given the midnight schlick-session I’d enjoyed. Sitting there, bare-bottomed against the cotton of my linens, I found it difficult to get comfortable. My pussy was still sore and tender – moreso than the day before. I spread my legs and inspected my sex. It looked fine, if a bit puffy… but she was bigger than I remember her being. My pouty pussy was swollen and blood-engorged, puffing out about an inch or two from my body, like I’d been turned on for a long time without release. It was only slightly slick to the touch, though, and I didn’t initially feel the need to masturbate. She was quite sensitive, though, and even the force of me breathing on her caused her to twitch. Seconds after my self-exam began, I felt a familiar tickle in my clit.

It was early enough, so I opened up my laptop and browsed through my porn sites for a few minutes. My favorite vibrator found his way between my thick labia, and within minutes I enjoyed a nice little wake-up cum. Nothing earth-shattering like the night before, but still pleasant – it took the edge off. I stripped my bed and stuffed the linens into my washing machine, making the mental note to run it when I got back from work, and then hopped into the shower.

My routine hygiene involved plenty of hot, soapy water, and my ladybits were subject to an especially thorough scrubbing. This, however, only served to turn me on again. Giving a little growl of frustration, I hiked a leg up to one side of the tub, plucked my detachable showerhead from its perch, and adjusted the heat and pressure to my Goldilocks settings. My bathroom rang with my muffled squeaks as I came for the second time that morning.

Breakfast included a banana, which I struggled to not wash and then shove into my cunt. I kept my head, though, and sliced it up into my cereal. I ate in the buff, the heat blowing warm little puffs of air across my damp body. One found my swollen nethers between my plump buttcheeks, though, and I growled again, slamming my fist into the countertop. My breakfast half-eaten, I sat down once again at my office chair and cranked my vibe up to max, not even bothering with porn this time as I got myself off once again.

I dressed hastily, trying to not caress my sensitive sex or think about anything erotic. My first three pairs of panties felt uncomfortably tight, pressing into my sex in a deliciously tight way, but three orgasms sapped enough of my sexual energy to let my willpower push a fourth moment of me-time away from my thoughts. I opted for the oldest, loosest underwear I owned, a thoroughly unsexy pair of granny panties that were a bland tan. My threw on the same bra from the day before. Opting to risk the cold I wore a long skirt and a nice, comfy long-sleeved shirt with a blazer on top of it. With a quick snuggle-kiss to my cat I was out the door.

Training went better that day. I was able to focus more clearly, and got through the bulk of the boring orientation stuff. The post-lunch break, however, resulted in another kink in the story.

The trainer’s name was Dylan – maybe a few years older than me. His hair was shaggy, he had thick glasses, and he was skinny. His button-down shirt was rumpled, he had a two-day growth of stubble. He looked kinda scruffy, and at that moment he was the hottest guy I’d ever seen. It was all I could do to not throw him across a desk and ride his cock in front of the other trainees. I ducked into the bathroom and sat down on one of the toilets with my skirt hiked up and my panties shoved halfway down my shins. One hand covered my mouth as I tried to muffle my moans, while the other spun circles around my clit at a furious pace. Tears came to my eyes as I climaxed, imagining Dylan bareback and balls-deep in my cunt, spilling his hot, fresh load into my unprotected pussy. My ejaculate spattered noisily into the bowl of the toilet.

I heard a knocking on the stall door, snapping my damp eyes open.

“Are you okay, Theresa?” asked one of the other female trainees. Lindsay. Short, plump. Images of what she’d look like naked, her face buried between my thighs, flashed in my mind. What did her tits look like unclothed? Could she lactate? I wanted to drink her milk while she held me close and had her fist buried wrist-deep into my throbbing sex. I had just cum, but I needed to again. I suppressed the urge to scream.

“I’m f-fine,” I stammered, wiping myself clean and trying not to groan at the delicious roughness of the toilet paper across my blood-swollen, splayed lips. My cunt throbbed beneath my fingers in time with my rapid heartbeat. “S-something I ate… isn’t agreeing w-with me.”

I composed myself and left the room, Lindsay walking a few steps in front of me. Her ass was hypnotic, and I wondered how soft her thighs were… if she would like to sit on my face and let me worship her womanhood with my mouth. When I got back to the training room I asked Dylan if I could go home early, sticking with the food poisoning story.

“Sure,” he said, smiling. The sudden urge to know, with scientific precision, just how much cum I could milk out of him manifested within me. All my willpower was dedicated to not pulling down his slacks and sucking him off.

I practically ran out of the building and into my car. My hands fumbled with my cell phone as I dialed up my OB/GYN. It was early enough in the day that the office was still open, and after stammering out my information I asked if they had any appointments for the next day. Luckily, a cancellation earlier in the day freed a slot, they penciled me in.

At home I got undressed immediately. My frequent, messy orgasms over the course of the day resulted in my dehydration, and I refilled my reserves with the rest of the gallon of sweet tea left in the fridge. I grabbed my waterproof vibrator, started the hottest bath I could stand, and spent the time waiting for the tub to fill by watching the nastiest porn I could find. Threesomes, gangbangs, lesbian BDSM, bukkake and creampies. Everything I could find just pushed my plateaus higher. The ease with which I achieved orgasm earlier in the day was gone, and now it was a long, slow slog to release.

With my vibe on full clenched between my thighs and buried to the hilt in my cunt I waddled into the now-filled tub. I slathered myself with body wash, getting nice and slippery. I ran my hands across my body, my vibe writhing and jerking inside my depths. I pinched my nipples and slipped a slick finger into my tight ass. Then another. Then my fingers, soapy and clean, went into my pussy… beside my vibrator, stretching myself wider and wider. I felt hot, soapy water rush into my gaping cunt, and finally I reached orgasm. I curled into a ball, splashing water out of the tub. I saw the streamers of ejaculate launch from my pussy beneath the water, squirting without sound into the hot water of my bath. It was slightly cloudy, just a bit thicker than the water itself. Through the storm that was my orgasm I was hypnotized by the graceful way it coiled and twisted, like ink, through the water.

I lay there, the vibe still going inside of me, the hot water soothing the ache of my abused, quivering sex, for a long time. As the water started to cool I stood up and wrapped myself in my soft bathrobe. The vibe’s batteries began to die, so I shuffled into the kitchen. Squatting, I pushed the toy out of my cunt, the shadows of the robe hiding my sex from my sight. I swapped the batteries and re-inserted it, pushing my thighs together to seat it as deeply into my birth canal as possible.

Wrapped up in my warm robe, my vibrator humming away inside of me, I curled up in bed and drifted off to sleep. I slept through the night, and if Sailor Moon appeared again I didn’t remember it.

Day 3

I woke the next morning bleary-eyed, but rested. Having shifted in the middle of the night, I was on my back. I sat up, legs still spread wide, and what I saw shocked me awake. My pussy had grown. It was big, so much bigger than it had ever gotten, even when I was at my horniest. It sat between my legs like a little ball of flesh, maybe the size of a big apple. It radiated heat – I could feel waves of throbbing heat licking my thighs. I rubbed my eyes, not believing what I saw, but no amount of blinking or head shaking could dispel the truth.

The once-fresh batteries in my vibrator gave out some time in the night, and it sat between my splayed thighs in a puddle of my own pussy slime. My cunt had sealed itself shut, but now as I looked at it, and I felt its heat surging through me, it opened like a flower in the sun. Fingers quivering, I reached down to touch it, and moaned at how sensitive it had become. It responded by lubricating almost instantly, thick, syrupy moisture coating the large, fan-like labia as they unfolded. It was beautiful.

My hand recoiled, coming up to cover my eyes.

“No, no, this is fucked up,” I panted. “No no no your monster cunt is not cool, holy shit what is wrong with me?!”

I remembered the doctor’s appointment, and latched onto that thought. My OB/GYN would know what’s wrong with me. She would fix this. I had an infection or something, and she would give me a shot or pills or a cream or something. Not bothering with a shower given my bath the night before, I tried to dress, which quickly turned into an exercise in frustration. None of my underwear would fit over my bulging pudenda. Though squishy, erotically so, any amount of pressure on her became very intense very quickly. Standing with my legs too close together was almost too much. Forgoing underwear, and jeans for the same reason, I chose to wear a long skirt and a matching long-sleeved top. I ran a comb through my frizzy hair and pushed it back with a hairband, and then walked out to my car.

Each step sent my thighs brushing against my plump, oversized sex, sending little waves of pleasure up my spine. I walked in a haze of arousal, but somehow got used to it. Sitting down in my car, I spent a few minutes adjusting so that I wasn’t sitting directly on the spongy, slick bulb of flesh that protruded from my crotch. Driving was a little awkward, given the obstruction between my thighs, but I managed to get to the doctor’s office without incident.

Flushed, desperate for another orgasm (or three) I tried to keep my composure in the waiting room. I filled out the few bits of paperwork necessary and presented my insurance. The nurse behind the counter asked if I was okay, and I grumbled something. For the reason of my visit, I ticked the “pelvic inflammation” checkbox – technically accurate, but far and away from any “standard” feminine discomfort. This felt good. Had I not called the office for the appointment the day before, I would have been at home. Masturbating. That image made me groan in the waiting room chair, and I clutched my stomach, rocking back and forth as I squeezed my legs together. I felt my swollen cunt squish between my powerful thighs, and I gave a little gasp as I felt it inflate just a little bit more. My skirt draped across my legs hid the plump organ, but I wondered if that was going to change. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, of lust or terror I wasn’t sure.

After a few minutes I was led into one of the exam rooms. The nurse took my basic vitals and then asked me to get into the stirrups.

“I… er… can… can that wait?” I stammered.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” the nurse crooned with practised warmth and a slight southern twang. I wanted to know what she sounded like when she came screaming. “We can’t do a pelvic exam without you getting saddled up.”

Flushing with embarrassment I shucked my skirt, stepping out of it. I put my hands in front of my crotch, trying in vain to hide my (beautiful, sexy) deformity, but she just cleared her throat. I jerked my hands up, crossing them beneath my big breasts, looking away.

I heard the nurse give a little gasp at the sight of me.

“Let me get the doctor,” she said, her voice calm and neutral. “Do you need a hand up into the stirrups?”

I nodded as I scooted my bare butt into the seat. Her cool, long-fingered hands (that would feel so good between my hot, throbbing cuntlips) guided my legs into the stirrups. I felt so exposed and open… and turned on. Between my thighs my pussy plumped up just a little more.

The nurse made sure I was comfortable and then ducked out of the room. In less than a minute she returned with the doctor in tow… only, this wasn’t my regular OB/GYN. This woman was a bit younger; slender and tall with prematurely silver hair that didn’t quite go with her smooth, young face. Her skin was a dusty brown and her features placed her ethnic origins as Indian. She wore the standard issue doctor’s coat atop a button down silk blouse and a knee-length black pencil skirt. Her eyes met mine, and then flickered down to my engorged, oversized sex.

“Thank you, Julie, you can leave us – I’ll call if I need anything,” the doctor said in a quiet voice. Julie the nurse gave a nod and then left, her gaze lingering for a heartbeat on my pussy.

“My name is Doctor Lakshmi,” she said, walking up next to me and extending her hand. Unfolding an arm from its place beneath my breasts I took her offered extremity and shook it awkwardly. She pulled a stool over from beneath a table, and then donned a pair of latex gloves before squirting a healthy dollop of medical lubricant on her fingers.

“Dr. Vines is not available right now, Theresa,” she said. Her quiet voice was soothing, and had a musical lilt to it. Her unlubed hand rested on my own, just beneath my breasts. “I’m something of a specialist with these sorts of things, and I want you to just relax. You’re going to be fine, okay?”

I nodded, and for the first time in three days I genuinely felt fine. Though tired and dehydrated, her voice quieted my building anxiety. I still felt extremely aroused, but the human contact of her warm hand on mine bolstered my own mental defenses.

Dr. Lakshmi sat down on the stool between my legs and scooted closer, giving my engorged sex a close, visual inspection.

“How long has this been going on?” she asked, putting the backs of her gloved hands on my inner thighs. I jumped, a little, but then relaxed. She was getting me used to the pressure of another person’s hands on my body.

“It… it got b-big this morning,” I said, trying to breathe evenly. The warmth of her hands felt very nice. “But… I… I guess this really started a f-few days ago? Yeah, this is the third day.”

Actually relaxing, and not freaking out, made it easier to concentrate. My mind drifted back on a sea of happy, fuzzy pleasure to the past few days. All the moments my pussy-sense sparked in my memories described a slow, but steady, progression of growth. The gentle, but insistent pressure between my thighs wasn’t me being turned on – my pussy had been growing ever since that first night of bizarre, sexual dreams.

“I’d like to touch you, Miss Gaynes,” Dr. Lakshmi stated, her hands still on my thighs. “Are you ready?”

I took a deep breath and nodded. I tucked my arm behind my head so I could look down at myself while the doctor probed me. I had definitely grown since this morning. What had been the size of a large apple was now about the size of a big grapefruit. Dr. Lakshmi’s fingers were firm, but gentle, and she palpated the bulging sphere of exterior flesh. I cooed as waves of erotic sensation radiated from my transforming vulva.

The tissue was very soft and spongy, softer even than breast tissue. It protruded about 6 or 7 inches from my body in a globe of flesh, the bottom of which was split by my labia. My sex had resized to match this extrusion, and I suspected my vagina had lengthened, too. Dr. Lakshmi’s fingers pressed into the deep crevasse between my massive labia majora and my elongated labia minora. The juices there flowed freely, aiding her fingers passage. I felt myself open to her.

“Very good,” she whispered. Even my most comfortable trips to the OB/GYN left me with memories of cold hands and tools, but the skill with which this doctor touched me left me breathless.

She cupped the “bottom” of my mega-labia where they folded down over my taint, pushing against my plump butt cheeks. Hefting the new organ up, her fingers found my pherenium. She pressed into the firm muscle there, and I felt her fingertips jostle my vagina from below. I grunted at that – the sensation was pleasant, but unexpected. She smiled up at me and relieved pressure, letting my vulva lower back down into its natural position. She cupped the sides, pushing her fingers into the space between it and my crotch. Firmer flesh met her fingers, preventing her from going as deep. This seemed to meet her expectations as she nodded, her brow furrowed slightly in concentration.

Renewing her gloved hands supply of lube (not that she really needed it, given the constant natural lubrication my own monster sex was providing) she slipped her fingers between my minor labia. She traced their curves up, pulling them apart with care. The cool air of the room brushed against my exposed urethra and the root of my clitoris, making me giggle and jump. Her fingers continued their path up to my clitoral hood, pushing that skin back. I could actually see her fingers now, barely, as they pushed into the “top” of my massive sex organs.

“Holy shit,” I gasped. “Is that my clit?!”

My little pearl, which had been about the size of a fat pea a few days ago, was the size of a big shooter marble. It was proud and erect, sticking out of my hood. Dr. Lakshmi’s fingers had exposed it in its entirety. It wasn’t phallic, not like a female bodybuilder’s meaty clitoris. It was very plump and round, glistening; it looked very much like a big pink gemstone. The cool air tickled it, and I squirmed in my seat.

“That’s… that’s…” I stammered.

“Beautiful?” Dr. Lakshmi whispered, looking up into my eyes with a curious expression. My gaze met hers and I gulped. Then I flushed bright red as I nodded.

Her long, graceful fingers glided back down to the entrance of my vagina, where they paused only briefly before slipping in. One hand held my lips splayed, while the other slid in slowly. My back arched involuntarily as my hips pressed forward. My pussy was hungry for penetration, and even the banal sterility of the OB/GYN exam room could not dampen that need.

“Very good,” the doctor crooned. “Very good, indeed. Everything is progressing quite naturally.”

Her finger was joined by another, and then another. Three elegant fingers swam in and out of my body. Her efforts proved my earlier hypothesis – my vagina had very much extended. It was easily four inches deeper, having expanded “outside” my body to accompany the growth of my vulva. Dr. Lakshmi paused to re-lube her hand again, and then bunched all of her fingers into a tight wedge. With a gentle twist and firm pressure, her gloved hand slipped inside of my body.

The new length of my birth canal was extremely flexible, yet still tight. I’d dabbled in Kegel exercises, but the muscles of my pelvic wall flexed and tensed like I’d been doing them all my life. They drew her hand into my body up to the wrist, my labia twitching and clinging to her forearm like an alien bracelet.

My mouth was open, but no sound came out. I was fulfilled – this was bliss… utter bliss. It felt natural and beautiful, transcending normal sexual pleasure into some higher plane of satisfaction. Dr. Lakshmi giggled as my body drew her in. She responded by slowly extending her fingers, spreading them wide. I started gasping, then, the stirrups holding me in place as I jerked my hips forward and back. Her other hand, the one outside my body, came up to my massive clitoris and caress it. She made lazy loops and spirals – obviously her own masturbatory pattern. The foreign language of stimulus caught me off guard. Her hand folded and unfolded within me, undulating like some sea creature while she diddled my mega-clit.

I felt my climax approaching, as did Dr. Lakshmi. Her hand left my clit, the other slurping out of my vagina, both of which earned a keening moan from me, but then she pulled me open. A sensation utterly new to me (though reminiscent of my previous night’s bathtub orgasm) flooded through me. The tissues of my vagina stretched in response to the doctor’s efforts, my orgasm triggered by the sensation. It felt like she was making my body make more room, pulling me like taffy or rubber. Blood swelled the extended tissue. I felt myself grow.

My orgasm hit me like a train. Without care of who hit me, I screamed a full-throated cry from the depths of my gut. My sex felt like a firehose as it gushed huge ribbons of thick, slimy girlcum. Dr. Lakshmi had stepped to the side to dodge my spray. She held me open, fighting the contractions and flutters of my huge, gaping pussy. My new, strong muscles were extraordinarily strong, and managed to shut my sex with a wet clap, trapping her fingers between my labia.

I tensed like that, and then after a big shuddering wave the orgasm ended and I flopped back into the seat, my legs hanging in the stirrups like limp noodles. I lay there, panting big ragged gasps. Dr. Lakshmi took off her slimy gloves with practised ease, a small smile on her face the whole time.

“You are quite healthy, Miss Gaynes,” she said, throwing the gloves into the medical waste bin with a wet sound. “Your progress is normal. I suspect this will continue for another three days, four at the most.”

“Wh- wha…hah,” I gasped, trying to speak. Her hand came up to my belly.

“You are undergoing a transformation, Miss Gaynes,” she whispered as she leaned down close to my face. “The exact cause is still a mystery to medical science, but I assure you the process is harmless. Researchers don’t even have a name for it, but the unofficial nickname for the female condition is Demeter Syndrome.”

She sat down next to me, still touching me. Her hand came to my forehead, brushing the hair from my eyes and the sweat from my brow.

“It usually manifests with a marked increase in libido, which heralds the initial growth stage. Additional tissue in the generative organs is rapidly created. Stimulation of the affected area results in further growth up to a theoretical maximum, which varies from person to person. Once that maximum growth is reached, this genesis stage stops, and the libido returns to roughly baseline levels.”

Her hand went down to my belly, pressing through the soft tissues of my abdomen and down towards where I knew my uterus was.

“The process normally takes about a week, and can be rather… intense… but once that’s done you’ll no longer think about fucking everything that moves,” she giggled, continuing to probe. “Your genitals will shrink back to about the level you came in with today, but from here on out they will grow in proportion to the intensity and duration of your arousal.”

“Will… nngh… can this… be stopped?” I asked, finding my voice. It was froggy from screaming and dryness. Asking the question felt… wrong. Why would I want this to stop? But I had to know. The “normal” part of me had to know.

“It can,” Dr. Lakshmi said, nodding solemnly. “A routine of libido suppressants can mitigate your current symptoms, and vaginoplasty can revert your reproductive tissues back to pre-syndrome size. Do you want to undergo that procedure?”

I shook my head almost immediately, surprising myself. This was… wonderful. A thing of wonder. It was like magic or a miracle. The thing that throbbed between my legs was alive and warm and beautiful. I knew that my life would be changed… that I would probably have to adjust in a very major way almost every aspect of my life… but that idea was almost as thrilling as the idea that my pussy was growing.

I clamped my hands tight onto Dr. Lakshmi’s, giggling as hot tears spilled down my cheeks.

“Oh, god, no,” I tittered. “I… I don’t want this to stop… I don’t want it to ever stop.”

She leaned over and embraced me, pressing her warm, lithe body close to mine. The gesture was maternal and warm, and I gave a few sobs into her fragrant neck. She pulled away and I snuffled, accepting the tissues she proffered with as much grace as I could, half-naked, in stirrups, with a cantaloupe-sized vulva bobbing between my legs.

 

My hands went down to her as I lay there, feeling for the first time without trepidation my new, beautiful, transforming sex. She was gorgeous and sensitive, hiding my clit-perl in a perversely demure half-hood of tissue.

“I’m recommending you take the next few days off of work to avoid any unwanted sexual contact,” Dr. Lakshmi said as she filled out some paperwork at the desk. She was professional agian, but her voice was still warm. “Pull out as many toys as you own – maybe buy a few new ones – and watch as much pornography as you can. You’re going to want to masturbate a lot, and there’s no use fighting it. Pulling, tugging, or otherwise expanding your genitalia will accelerate the growth process.”

She helped me out of the stirrups and onto my feet, bearing my weight in her arms as I found my legs again. The orgasm should have left me unable to walk, but I recovered quickly.

“How… how do you know so much about this?” I asked as I retrieved my skirt and pulled it up my legs. The heat of my melon-sized pussy kept my legs warm, despite the cool interior of the office, but I still felt a bit chilly.

Dr. Lakshmi reached down to her skirt and pulled it up. She stood with her legs shoulder-width apart, and as the hem of her skirt passed her hips I gasped. Between her legs, encased in a delicate lattice of stretchy, sheer white lace, was a pussy bulge not unlike my own. The underwear compressed it slightly, giving it an egg shape, that was nestled between her thighs in a snug little package. It was maybe the size of an overripe bell pepper.

“I’ve gone through what you’re going through now,” she said. “It happened when I was much younger. It’s why I became an OB/GYN, actually. I didn’t want any other woman to go through what I did without understanding what was happening to their bodies.”

She stepped closer, and tugged down her panties. The orb of flesh relaxed, free of its nylon prison, and seemed to plump up a bit.

“Would you like to touch me?” she asked. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her sex, but I nodded. My fingers reached out and I felt her heat radiating in waves. She was unshaven, her pussybulge topped with a dense nest of midnight-black curls. They shone in the harsh light of the room like oil. I brushed a knuckle across her silky fur, and the both of us sighed. I turned my hand palm up and cupped her sex, feeling its weight and heft. It was dense and heavy, and as I massaged the tissue I felt it plump up and expand. I giggled as she blossomed for me, her clit emerging. Thumb-thick and slightly pointed, it peeked itself out of her dark hood. Her sex was a dusty color, several shades darker than the rest of her body, but the innermost edges of her crinkly labia were bright coral pink.

She cleared her throat and stepped back, a thin ribbon of juice connecting her sex and my fingers. She tugged her panties back up, scooping her sex forward to seat it in the stretchy nylon, not unlike how a larger-breasted woman had to scoop her breasts into her bra. The ribbon parted, leaving my finger slimy and warm.

“I assure you, there are others like us. Men, as well, if that is your inclination,” she said with only a slight quaver in her voice. Sensitivity was apparently quite universal. “The male version is known as Priapus Syndrome, and results in some truly… impressive… growth. Though our vaginas can contract to a considerable degree, you will find sex with a non-Syndrome male partner to be somewhat lacking. Indeed, we are the only women that can take a Syndrome male safely.”

“I like a challenge,” I quipped as she tugged her skirt back into place.. “I prefer both… men and women, that is.”

She nodded, and embraced me again. My larger breasts pressed into her small B-cups, and as the space between our bellies disappeared I felt a new, wonderful sensation – her pussybulge pressing against mine. Our sexes were bathed with heat, our hard clits nuzzling through the thin fabric that separated our bodies. Holding me as she was, though, was not overtly sexual. It returned to that almost maternal embrace as before. I felt warm and comforted by this woman I really didn’t know, who’d successfully masturbated me to orgasm just a few minutes prior. A woman who had a gigantic pussy, just like me.

“Enjoy these next few days, Theresa,” she whispered into my ear, her breath tickling me. “This transformation is… very special gift. I am glad you have decided to embrace it.”

I walked out of the office, nurse Julie giving me a little smile and a thumbs up. I wondered just how many women had come to this office with Demeter Syndrome. It had to be rare, otherwise it would be more well-known. Maybe Dr. Lakshmi and I were some of the first ones? I didn’t really know. I didn’t really care – all that mattered was the growing orb of hot, sensitive flesh nestled between my thighs.

Every once in a blue moon, my friends and I would group up and browse one of the local adult shops. There were a few sketchy ones, but we held Tantra in high regard – it was clean, staffed with very polite people, and had a wonderful selection of fun toys. If I had the choice, I would have ordered some stuff online, but given how narrow my window was I decided to take the brick-and-mortar route.

The chipper tomboy behind the counter didn’t even blink when I asked what the biggest toy they carried was. She pointed down one of the aisles to a row of impressive dildos at the far end of the store. I felt her eyes on me as I selected a big, black rubber beast named The Champion, easily twice as thick as my wrist and about two feet long. I also snagged a big bottle of lube. Had this been any other day, I would have died of embarrassment as my purchases were rung up… but all I could think about was inviting the tomboy back to my place to help me test out my new toys.

“You… probably get this a lot,” I stammered. My heart was pounding. What the fuck was I doing. Embrace it. Fucking do it. “But… w-would… you like to help me with this?”

She blinked that time, cocking her eyebrow as she looked me up and down. Her eyes flicked between the toy and me.

“I think this one’s a bit too big for me, sweetheart,” she said with a grin and a twinkle in her eye.
“It’s for me,” I said, sneaking a glance to either side to make sure we were alone. My heart hammered against my ribcage as I pulled my skirt up just a bit. She looked around, flushing, and opened her mouth, but then she froze as she realized what she was seeing.

My pussy. My big, bulging pussy. Hanging halfway down to my knees. Slick and parted, like a panting mouth, with thick ropes of clear girl-goo clinging to it like shimmery lace. Hungry.

“Hhhholy sssshit,” she hissed, her eyes as big as saucers. She looked up at me. I was biting my lip, my eyebrows kinked up in an expression of hope and lust.

“Let me get my bag,” she said quickly. “It was a slow night anyway.”

Her name was Samantha, and she rode in my car in the passenger seat. She’d taken a few items from the shop and stowed them in a bag, keeping them from my curious eyes. When I asked what she’d taken she just giggled. Watching the road, I felt her eyes on me, undressing me with her imagination. I’d given her only a brief glimpse of the monster between my legs, and it had obviously intrigued her. I couldn’t wait for her to explore my body.

We made it to my place without trouble, and we hauled our bags up the stairs unaccosted by my neighbors. Misty hid as soon as she detected another person coming into the apartment – her standard MO. Before I could turn around, or even speak, I felt Samantha’s scrawny arms wrap around my waist. A full foot shorter than me, her head barely came up to my chin. Her arms rested comfortably across the front of my pelvis, just below where my skirt caused my plump belly to pudge out just a bit.

“Mmmmm,” she purred, her voice muffled by the fabric of my shirt. “Ssssssoffffft.”

I pushed my butt against her tummy, causing her to giggle.

“Yeah, I’m soft,” I rumbled, feeling heat fill me like a thick liquid. My arousal level never really dropped since my molestation at the OB/GYN, and now I found someone to share my lust with. I’m secure in my sexuality – I know I’m beautiful and sexy – but the thing between my legs was so bizarre, so alien, so sexy, that I felt like a goddess. “Soft all over. And you’re going to kiss and touch and lick and nuzzle every bit of me… isn’t that right, Sam?”

She shivered against me. She liked that name.

I turned around so she was hugging my front, and she buried her face immediately between my big tits. She rubbed her face between them, into the cotton and silk of my clothing. Wrapping my arms around her narrow shoulders I held her close. The pads of my fingers pressed into the lean muscle of her shoulders and neck. The goddess within me was, apparently, not very submissive.

I pulled my shirt up, wriggling free of Sam’s arms just long enough to disrobe, revealing my rather unsexy beige bra. The way Sam’s eyes sparkled as she saw my breasts, you’d think it was her birthday. Her hands came up to the clasp behind my back and she looked up into my eyes. I nodded and smiled, giving her permission. Surprisingly, her small hands held enough strength to overcome the force of my tits, and the clasp unlatched in her fingers. She pulled the smooth, warm cups of my bra from my breasts, freeing them from their nylon prison.

Sam gasped, and then nuzzled my left tit, pressing her face into the soft tissue. Her warm cheeks felt good, and even though the gesture wasn’t directly sexual it was intimate, and I moaned at the contact. My pussy swelled at the sensation, and it bumped against Sam’s crotch through our clothing, breaking her revels.

She shifted back and looked down between our bodies to the spherical lump that throbbed visibly beneath my skirt. Sam gulped, her eyes as big as saucers. I heard her breathing quicken. I took her hand and tugged, leading her to my bed. It was time for the big reveal. I lay on the bed, scooting back up to the pillows at its head, making a sort of nest/throne to perch on. After flicking my shoes off I wiggled my toes, stretching them. My tits sagged down my chest and onto my belly, hot and heavy and aching to be sucked… but I was a patient goddess.

“Strip,” I commanded Sam, who still stood at the foot of the bed. I propped an elbow up with a pillow and rested my head on it, my skirt draped carefully between my splayed thighs to hide my sex. My pussybulge was still quite visible beneath the fabric, but not the organ itself.

Sam obliged, pulling off her t-shirt to reveal what had to have been the most cursory bra ever. It was a sports bra, grey, and she snapped it off casually, which was totally hot. Her tiny tits were barely there, little mouthfuls of fat on an otherwise flat chest. Her nipples were hard pebbles of rosy red flesh, and looked delicious. Unlacing her Doc Martens and then unsnapping her fly, she removed everything from the waist down except for a pair of black-and-white striped panties. Those she kept on.

“Please let me see it,” she rasped, desire thickening her voice. She held herself, one arm across her chest but not really hiding herself. She bit her lip and rocked back and forth on her heels, looking all the world like a young girl, and not the twentysomething she was.

It was my turn to follow orders as I stood up on the bed. I hooked my thumbs to either side of my skirt’s waistband. My heart was pounding again as I felt her eyes lock onto my crotch. I pulled down, stifling a groan as my skirt brushed against my rapidly-swelling clit. I stepped out of my skirt and threw it to the floor, standing with my feet apart, my hands cupping my monster sex.

She had grown, no doubt thanks to the thrill of inviting a stranger into my bed. The orb of flesh throbbing between my thighs was now the size of a small watermelon, hot to the touch. Her lips had parted and unfurled, my clit standing out from its hood, and it practically drooled juice.

“L-like what you see?” I asked, suddenly afraid. What if she didn’t like it? What if she hated it, or thought it was gross?

She crawled onto the bed, eyes wide, and answered my question. She kissed my clit, a chaste little peck that sent a shiver up my spine… but she didn’t stop moving forward. I yelped as I fell onto my nest of pillows, and she kept moving forward. She pressed her face into my hot pussylips, and parted them with her face. She was gasping and moaning, and I felt every centimeter of her face. My sex was so sensitive I could make out the contours of her nose and lips and cheeks as they slid into the thick-lipped crevasse. Her hands came to my butt, digging in her fingertips and pulling me close against her with a strength I didn’t realize she possessed.

She buried her face into my sex, nuzzling and rubbing against my secret place with gentle sweeps of her neck. I felt, more than heard, her gulping down the juices that collected within me, and her little tongue pushed up into my birth canal. Tightening reflexively, my sex worked without my consent, pushing and pulling against Sam as she explored my alien body.

Her fingers worked into the slippery edges of my sex and tugged, pulling me apart. Until then, her efforts felt good… but now they felt amazing. Like my bathtub the night before, and Dr. Lakshmi earlier today, Sam stretching me open brought me right up to the edge of orgasm in an instant.

“Sam!” I gasped, my legs twitching as I scrambled to find purchase. I felt like I was in freefall, with nothing to catch me. My feet and hands scampered over the slippery sheets; pillows scattered like water as I spasmed. “Oh, fffuck, baby! Baby! Oh, Ssssssaaaaaaaaaaaaam~”

I came, just like that. She knew her way around pussy, no doubt about it. My labia stretched from ear to ear, and though the tissue was taut, the seal wasn’t perfect. Ribbons and fans of clear pussyslime spurted from between her face and my sex, though I could feel her mouth open inside of me.

The ejaculate my body produced, I realized, was not just from my urethra (though that was its greatest font). It came from all parts of my sex. It gushed from between my major and minor labia as well as from the depths of my vagina. Sam gulped that down, drinking from what felt like the very depths of my womb. In my orgasm-haze it almost felt like giving birth to something. Some great liquid thing that my lover took into her own body to keep warm and safe.

As my ejaculation subsided, I felt Sam prise my lips from her ears and pull back, gasping for air. Her face was beet-red, and utterly coated in my juices. Thick dollops and streamers matted her hair, and big clear clumps of the stuff plopped down her nose and face to cling to her jawline. Big ropes bridged from the depths of my sex to her face. It looked almost comical, but the utter completeness of her saturation with my pussyjuice was a huge turnon. I had marked her.

She wiped the goo from her eyes as she panted, catching her breath. I struggled to pull myself up to a pillow with my arms, on account of my legs not quite working, and then flipped her one of the towels I’d used to mop up my juices from the day before. She mopped her face, taking deep, erotic sniffs of my leavings and pulling the towel away to reveal a grin. She knew I’d been doing this for a while.

She snuggled up to me, then. It felt kind of weird for her to still have undies on, but we were still feeling out one another as lovers. We had barely said twenty words to one another – we were communicating with our actions.

She lay on top of me, her face once again between my tits. Her own sex, still covered in damp cotton, rubbed up against mine; Sam straddled it, cupping my sex with hers and her thighs. I felt her hard nipples pressing into my belly and her heart thudding against me. She would grind down, snuggling into me with her wiry strength. Wrapping herself around me like a vine, Sam found little nooks and folds in my flesh for her lithe fingers to find purchase.

My hands traced the muscles and edges of her back. She wasn’t cut by any stretch of the imagination, but skinny girls have the sexiest muscle tone without trying too hard. My fingers wandered down to the hem of her underwear, slipping beneath the elastic to tease the sensitive flesh of her lower back. She wiggled against me as I touched her, giving me permission to escalate. I pushed my hands down her undies, cupping her scrawny butt with both hands and giving it a good, solid squeeze. My fingers dug into her lean flesh and she gave a muffled squeak into the fat of one of my breasts, which she had been nuzzling.

Tensing my arms, I lifted her up my torso, dragging her crotch along my belly. I tightened my grip, parting and kneading her cheeks beneath her striped underwear. My tits hugged Sam’s scrawny torso, her own little boobs resting across my collar bones as our faces neared. Despite the fact that she had literally shoved her face into my pussy moments before, the intimacy of our impending kiss had us both flushed and panting. Our lips met, and with the urgency only new lovers possess our kiss turned hungry.

We tasted one another, wrestling our lips and tongues together in a wet, writhing dance. Teeth nipped and pulled, playful but with a hint of danger. She drew my tongue into her mouth, sucking it like a nipple or a stubby cock. I returned the favor, but with her bottom lip, finding it quite plump and soft, so unlike the rest of her body.

This whole time Sam had been wriggling out of her panties, until at last her bare snatch pressed into the soft swell of my belly. She shaved, and I felt the tiny pinpricks of stubble against my sensitive skin. My kiss turned into a smile against her face as she rocked her hips, masturbating herself with my pudge.

“Stop that,” I giggled, which only made her grind harder. My fingertips found her nipples and I gave one a solid pinch. Her nubbins were as hard as stone, and she gave a squeak of surprise, but she just pushed down harder. I growled and clicked my teeth at her in an animalistic warning, which she hopped back from.

Clambering from her perch atop my tummy, Sam dashed to the bag she had brought from Tantra. I heard rustling and the brief rush of water shortly before she scampered back. She stood at the foot of the bed and turned around, presenting her skinny, boyishly flat butt to me. I laughed when I saw the little jewel peeking out between her butt cheeks – she’d inserted a little jeweled butt plug, and it glittered in the low light of my bedroom.

“How ‘bout you make me stop,” she giggled, sticking out her butt and wiggling it back and forth.

I’m really not that big, and I’m definitely not that strong, but Sam was so light I could have been Andre the Giant, compared to her. With a stage roar I lurched forward and caught her up in my arms, pulling her onto the bed. We wrestled for a brief moment, but I triumphed, and placed my victim across my lap. My pussybulge pressed up into her own crotch. My left hand held her hands in place behind her back in a hold I’d learned ages ago, while my right parted her cheeks to examine her jewel.

The crystal was the color of fresh blood, and caught the light of the room. It was attached to a narrow metal shaft that emerged from her tawny asshole. I pressed down on the thing, driving it deep into my lover’s body. She groaned, humping my orb-sex with her own crotch.

“When I say stop,” I whispered, bringing my hand up. “You stop.”

I brought my hand down in a swift motion, and the room reverberated with a little crack as my hand met Sam’s ass. She groaned, humping against my sex in earnest.

“Fucking make me, daddy,” she growled. I felt her sex oozing down onto my own. “Make your little girl obey.”

Bringing my hand down again, this time a little harder on her other cheek, resulted in a louder, more guttural groan, and more humping. I spanked her again, a little harder. And then again, harder still. I was hitting hard enough for the vibrations to travel through her lean flesh and into my pussy.

I’d done some experimentation in the past, and knew the basics – namely that varying the pressure and timing of one’s strikes were both essential to a good spanking. We got into a pseudo rhythm as I increased the intensity of my strikes, feeling Sam’s body respond. Too much pain, or too fast, and she twitched a certain way. It only took one or two of those for me to learn her limits. I’d give her breaks, twirling the plug inside of her or raking my nails across her red, swollen flesh. After just a few strikes, her bottom was a bright, cherry red, and was covered in pretty hand prints. The line of her sex was open and winking, glistening with dew.

After a particularly vigorous round I pressed my fingers against her sex, resulting in a very different sound from my lover. Half-muffled by the blankets and pillows, Sam almost sounded like a whale – her voice was deep and melodious.

“If you promise to be a good girl,” I said in an even tone, trying my best to sound mature and commanding. “Then I’ll touch you. I’ll touch my little girl and make her feel good. Are you gonna be a good girl?”

Sam nodded, parting her thighs and trying to hump against me again. The angle wasn’t right for our clits to touch, but I think that was what she was trying to do.

“Say it,” I ordered, grazing a knuckle across her inflamed sex. “Say you’ll be a good girl for daddy.”

“I’ll be a good girl… for my daddy,” Sam squeaked in a high-pitched, quavery voice.

With that, I pushed a fingertip into her sex. She squirmed and moaned, spreading her legs and trying to angle her hips up to meet my fingers, but I pulled back. I was in control, and she needed to know that. Once she’d stopped moving, and began a plaintive whine, I re-inserted my finger. That time she stayed still, and let me control the speed and depth of her penetration.

She was tight, extremely so, but she was so wet that my finger’s path was eased. I pushed in, never stopping, until I buried my finger to the last knuckle. I felt the tight, firm donut of her cervix against my fingertip, which I circled with teasing flicks of my digit. Her legs opened a bit more, and we shifted. At last, my pussybulge slipped up between her thighs, my labia pressing against hers in a sideways hug. The contact caused us both to groan – our sexes swapped heat, pressure and moisture, and it felt wonderful.

I used my free hand to haul her leg up and over my lap, until she was facing away from me, her pussy right in front of me, her lithe body between my legs. She wrapped her arms around my ankles, pressing them into the hot flesh of her flanks and drawing my feet against her armpits. During the acrobatics, I hadn’t removed my finger from her body. Now my sex was right up against hers, our clits touching. I felt her tiny nubbin against my monster-clit like a little tongue or finger, hard and erect.

I pulled her asscheeks apart with my free hand, palming the jeweled plug into her ass, while I finger-fucked her in earnest. Her vagina gripped my fingers tight (she obviously did kegels) but her slickness turned her resistance into a token force. I made a big show of pulling my finger out and sucking her juices from it. She was tangy and salty, sharp-flavored. I’d sampled a fair number of pussies in my past, and no two were alike. Groaning in appreciation at her vintage, I lubed up another finger with spit and then speared her sex again, this time with two digits.

Sam humped her clit against mine as I penetrated her. With any other woman, the gesture would have been slippery and fun, but not necessarily stimulating. With me it was a truly pleasurable experience – my clit was like a fat, warm pebble, and was obviously flicking Sam’s bean in the right way. The tenor of her moans changed as she ground her clit on mine, and I picked up my pace accordingly. Her inner walls were silky-smooth, except for the familiar rough patch, which given our orientation was on the “down” wall of her vagina relative to me. Every pass I made sure to press the pads of my fingers into her G-spot, which made Sam grunt and arch her back.

I played Sam like an instrument. A sheen of sweat covered her body, her lithe limbs twitching and jerking with a sort of insect grace as I explored her depths. I added more fingers, until I could crook my hand into a wedge. Her little fluttering opening winked against my knuckles as I paused. Sam continued to hump my clit, but looked back at me.

“Please, daddy,” she begged with her best little girl voice. “Please put your fist inside me. Put it in your Sammy-girl’s kitty.”

“Since you asked so nicely…” I purred, corkscrewing my hand forward. My free hand wrapped around Sam’s waist, I pulled her body into mine. She had managed to hook her ankles around my waist, and used the leverage to do the same. At first, her pussy put up quite the fight. I could tell she was trying to relax the tight ring of muscle at the entrance of her vagina, but sheer size difference made that tough to accomplish. I upped the pressure, not wanting to hurt her but still determined to give her this experience.

At last, with a sudden flutter of labia and a squelch of girljuice, my fist popped inside of Sam’s cunny. We both gasped at the suddenness of the transition, which for Sam became a series of rapid panting breaths.

“Ohfuckohfuckohgod,” she gasped, her hips shuddering. I held still, letting her body adjust to me. My fingers were still coned, making as small a shape as possible.

“M-make… nngh… m-make a f-fist,” she stuttered. I obliged, letting her control the pace of our fun now that such a delicate operation was underway. I curled my fingers into a ball over the course of about a minute, until at last my plump fingers formed a solid, spherical knot of muscle and bone inside of her body. Her sex winked and fluttered around my wrist, her dainty lips tickling my skin with slimy kisses.

I pushed forward, my knuckles finding her cervix. I ground against that orifice very gently, twisting my wrist to the side and back again. Another inch or two of my forearm disappeared into my lover. This whole time I was wide-eyed and gasping, amazed at how much my lover could take of me. It was so intimate and intense. I began wondering just how much of her I could take into me. Could she go to the elbow? The shoulder? Could I fit her entire head into my monster-pussy?

It didn’t take many strokes for Sam to cum. My knuckles and thumb were seated firmly on her G-spot when she did, and she wiggled her hips side to side to flick her clit against mine. Her pussy wasn’t very mobile, but the muscles inside of her twitched and contracted as best they could, and our efforts were rewarded with hot splashes of girlcum that painted my belly. The thick slime dripped down to my crotch, washing over my labia and mingling with my own copious juices. I was glad I’d put towels down before we’d begun.

After Sam’s orgasm had run its course I extracted my fist from her body, unfolding it and then very slowly pulling out. Her skin stretched beautifully, forming a kind of labial glove around the fat part of the bottom of my hand before it reluctantly relinquished its grip and my hand popped free. I flexed my fingers as they pulled from her gaping sex, playing with the slimy streamers of lube that stretched between them and connected her to me. I twirled them around my fingers as they parted, squishing the stuff between my fingers.

I curled around Sam as the big spoon, my messy hand coming up to her face. She was panting like an exhausted animal, sweat dripping down her visible ribs as her chest heaved. Her body still twitched from the effort and orgasmic aftershocks, but she opened her mouth to let my fingers into her mouth. She gave a weak moan as she tasted herself on my fingers and snuggled back up against me. Parting her thighs, she grabbed my pussybulge with her crotch and pressed close to it, too.

Days 4, 5 & 6

We slept like that, curled around one another like sisters, not waking until late the next morning. When I finally unwound myself to take care of my bodily needs, my mirror showed me red-faced and giggly, remembering the passion and abandon of the night before. I showered, and gave a quiet gasp of surprise when Sam joined me. We soaped one another up, exploring each other in the better light of the bathroom. Her strong, sure fingers held my monster pussy open while I directed the hot spray of water up into my depths, making sure I was nice and clean for the day’s activities. I returned the favor, reducing the heat slightly and filling up her cunny with deliciously hot water, only to have her spray it across my face once I took the nozzle away.

Wrapped in towels, we cobbled together a decent breakfast from my kitchen’s stores. Sam wore her towel around her hips, leaving her flat chest exposed to air-dry. A towel bound up my much longer hair as it dried, and I wore my bathrobe open at the waist. Both of our post-shower costumes were sexy in their own way, and breakfast was full of little touches and kisses as we teased one another.

That day, and night, was spent making love in a variety of configurations. She would be submissive, like she had been the night before, and worship my still-growing sex with every part of her body. Other times we’d switch, and her wiry strength would hold me in contorted positions as she mercilessly prised my sex open as wide as possible. She would pull my labia apart or stretch them, amazing both of us with my body’s newfound flexibility. We filled one another with toys – that night I slept with The Champion sealed inside my mega-cunt. Sam humped against it with her pelvis, miming at fucking me with a two-foot long cock. My huge labia splayed wide around the massive rubber balls at the dildo’s base, and even in sleep my vagina didn’t relinquish its grip on the toy.

The next morning I birthed that toy into the tub. Sam was behind me, wrapping her legs around mine to hold them open as she pushed down on my belly. My innards had expanded, too, and some structure inside of me became locked onto the toy. Through our efforts, though, the massive dong was finally pushed out into the tub with a veritable wave of my vaginal lubrication. Sam frigged herself, scooping my slime into her hands and massaging it into her sex as she sat in an inch-deep puddle of the stuff. She was so filthy, and it turned me on so much.

We watched tons porn; weird stuff that neither of us had ever seen before. Strange smut from Japan and Germany. Girls with dicks, bizarre alien pregnancies, orifices being penetrated (and impregnated) that couldn’t possibly be in real life. Our old boundaries had melted away, and all the while my pussy just kept getting bigger. We began fantasizing out loud with one another, putting each other in bizarre scenarios, describing how wonderful it would be if my clit became a cock and could knock up Sam’s tiny tits, or how much fun Sam could have if she could swallow me whole and walk around, looking pregnant, as I lay curled up inside her stomach.

By the night of the sixth day, my cunt had become so large as to significantly impede my mobility. It was almost as big as Sam, spreading my legs wide no matter how hard I tried to close them. My lithe lover helped me around the apartment, moving stuff around when I needed to move, fetching me food and drink, even helping me get to the bathroom. She was amazed at my growth, and wanted to see just how big I would get.

That night as she lay beside me, panting after a long session of her queening me, we talked.

“So, your doctor said this would last a week, right?” she asked, idly tracing the outline of my areola with a fingertip. It had been a few hours since my last orgasm, and I felt the familiar tingle begin to sweep through my body, focusing as always on my meter-wide cunt. My clitoris was the size of a fat cantaloupe, and throbbed visibly. The biological mechanics of this entire enterprise was mind-boggling.

“Mmhmm,” I purred, playing with her ears – a particularly sensitive spot that made her giggle. “After tonight she’ll shrink back down… but Dr. Lakshmi said I’d grow big again, depending on how horny I got. But she won’t be this big normally – she’ll get down to about the size I was when I showed her to you.”

Sam loved that I refered to my sex in the second person. It made her laugh and blush – she found it sexy and silly at the same time. This whole situation was like that. Absurd, and the most erotic thing ever.

She got up, and at first I thought she was going to sit on my face again. I looked up at her sex, sighing at her little pixie-pussy that I had only just finished worshiping. Sam walked down the bed and crouched between my legs, spread already about as wide as my hips would allow. She disappeared behind my huge vulva.

I felt her breath on my huge sex, and then her fingertips. I had been drinking water and tea like mad to stay hydrated, and as such my labia produced plenty of lube. Her gentle probing caused my walls to moisten instantly, and she spent several long minutes just stroking me, spreading my lubrication around my meaty labia. I lay there, unable to move, at the mercy of my lover. I sighed, and then giggled as I heard the click of the lube bottle. We’d gone through a full bottle of the stuff, which had been replenished with a bigger bottle when Sam ducked out for “necessary supplies”. I heard the wet sounds of Sam applying lube… but they kept going for a lot longer than before.

“Sam?” I asked, pushing up on my arms to try and raise my head up to see over my sex. I just saw her pert backside and her legs, tucked beneath her body. Her hands pushed into the squishy inner walls of my labia and pushed, opening my lips. A few seconds later, her face joined in, pressing her soft cheeks, nose, and lips into the space between my folds. She was much lower than she normally was, and I opened my mouth to speak.

Sam pushed her head forward, fully between my massive labia and into the entrance of my vagina proper where the tube had extended out from my body. Her head was going inside of my sex. My words melted into a gurgle as she penetrated me. I felt her hands snake into my body, parting my flexing tunnel and making room for her. Part of me had fantasized about this very act, but I had never voiced my desires to Sam. I’d danced around the idea, but it was almost too extreme – too possible, given the changes that I had undergone.

Sam, quite obviously, picked up on my unspoken desires enough to merit her full-body exploration. Soon her narrow shoulders met my labia and I groaned as I felt my netherlips part. She had lubed her face and neck down to her shoulders. The artificial lube mingled with my own copious juices, easing her passage. She dove into me in slow-motion, parting the sea of my sex with her extended hands, ducking her head between her shoulders like a swimmer.

My pelvis, though more flexible than a normal woman’s, prevented Sam from getting any deeper, but my pussybulge was big enough to admit the curled-up body of my lover. She pushed against the far wall, and I could see her hands and face as they pressed into the far walls of my expanded sex. My hands found my labia and pulled to either side, helping my lover get as deep into me as possible. Her narrow ribcage was caught up in an intimate embrace as my inner labia hugged it tight, followed by her tiny waist. She tucked her knees up under her, squishing my thick, meaty lips beneath them. The pressure was intense, but pain was a foreign sensation – I felt nothing but mind-melting pleasure as she swam inside of me.

With a mighty slurp, Sam pitched herself forward, drawing her knees against her chest and tumbling into the last bit of space my vulva had to offer. Labia the size of pillows folded around her dainty ass and perfect little feet, and with a shuddering gulp my sex swallowed my lover, closing around her like a flower.

She twisted and squirmed, and then was still. I could feel every inch of her, curled up in a little ball upside-down, her head nestled between two thick bands of muscle that let her breathe through the folds of my sex. My body had clamped down on her with muscles far stronger than I thought possible, keeping her inside of me and not allowing gravity to let her slump out of me.

Through this entire process I had been breathing, tossed on waves of ecstasy like a log on the surface of a stormy sea. My limbs twitched and my back jerked – I wasn’t really in control of my body. Plateaus of pleasure I hadn’t reached, even in the heady days of unlimited sexual experimentation that Sam and I had gone through, passed me by, but I never reached climax. Orgasm wasn’t the point, I realized – it wasn’t the destination, but the journey.

I felt full. Pregnant, but not in the same way as I had always imagined pregnancy to feel like. I had taken my lover into my body entirely, my sex her entire world. She smelled me, tasted me, drank me – she swam in my essence. It soaked every inch of her skin. I could feel my tissues pressing tight against her, filling every fold and crevice of her body. The flesh of my sex pressed against hers, nestling in that secret feminine space between her thighs and backside that only a woman knows. I filled in her gaps, clinging and surrounding her like a blanket of flesh.

At last my spasms faded, and I could move. Well, parts of me. I suspected if I had been a dutiful weightlifter I may have been able to waddle around my apartment with comically-splayed legs. My body could contain my lover, but she weighed me down like an anchor. I could twist, though, and heave myself to one side or the other. I did so, curling my arms and legs protectively around my monster pussy.

Sam and I whispered to one another, my flesh muffling her voice. She described the insides of my sex like walls of warm, rippling velvet. I was soft, she said, and slick. My slime slid around her, my walls churning my lube against her to keep her wet and insulated. She could breathe just fine, but she described every breath as being damp and warm. Though she wasn’t in my womb proper, she said it practically felt like it.

“I’m warm and safe,” she said in a little voice. It was the same tone she used when being submissive, and acting like a bratty little girl. But it was soft and sweet, almost innocent. “I feel wrapped up in love.”

I sang her to sleep, humming a lullaby against my puffy flesh as I rocked back and forth. I felt her ribs swell in long, slow strokes, and realized she’d fallen asleep. Curling up on my side, I joined her in sleep.

I dreamed once again of the strange Sailor Moon creature, but this time my vagina was back to it’s normal size. She towered over me, squatting down and lowering her massive sex right on top of me. Lifting my arms and closing my eyes, I felt huge drops of her lubrication spatter against my naked flesh seconds before she penetrated herself with me. I was drawn up into her body, squeezed tight by her tunnel. My face met her cervix and I kissed it, pushing my fingers into the tight ring of muscle to open it wide. It spasmed, and then opened wide. Beyond was a dark redness and the sound of a thudding heart. I swam into her womb. I saw blackness. I smelled and tasted only sex. I heard a titanic heartbeat. I felt nothing but a tight, full-body embrace.

Day 7

Though Sam and I had made love long into the night, I woke up before sunrise. A growing tightness gripped my distended sex, and I realized that my transformation was coming to an end. Groggy, I did my best to wake up before preparing myself for what was to come. I twitched my vagina in a rippling pattern, and I felt Sam stir within me.

“Sam, baby,” I croaked, my voice craggy with sleep. “It’s time to come out now. Something’s happening.”

Her sleepy grunts were followed by her shifting within me. The sensation was quite erotic, but at the same time comfortable and familiar. I felt her try to push off of my inner walls, but they held her too tight.

“Uhh… I’m stuck,” she muttered. I felt her heartbeat quicken from within my walls.

“Don’t panic, Sam,” I said, taking deep, even breaths. I kept my own heartbeat steady, knowing that if I panicked no good would come of it. I had stretched enough to take her in, and I was confident that I could push her out. My college options courses had included a few semesters of tai chi, and though I couldn’t exactly go through all the motions, the breathing exercises I remembered helped me center myself.

I breathed in and out, visualizing the flow of energy through my body. It was kind of hokey, but I’ll be damned if it didn’t help me focus. I twitched every muscle from my navel to my knees, feeling each one respond to my commands. I had learned so much about my body in the past few days; I was completing my education. My vagina had expanded, and in so doing had acquired lots of new muscles. They were tightening, possibly even shrinking, and they held Sam tight within me.

Drawing in a deep breath, I exhaled and pushed, experimentally. Sam shifted within me, and the sensation sent a shiver up my spine. Good – arousal would only make this easier.

“Sam… would you talk to me?” I asked as I exhaled. My eyes were closed as I visualized Sam within my depths. The intimacy of my vagina’s embrace of my lover was still very prevalent in my mind. My walls began to moisten.

“About what, Theresa?” she asked, her voice quiet and far away.

“Talk dirty to me,” I giggled. “If I’m going to get you out you need to be as lubed up as possible.”

Sam shifted again, and for a second I thought she hadn’t heard me, but then I felt her move again. Her arms and legs, every part of her body she could move, she did so in slow, firm circles. She stroked me from the inside. I couldn’t help but moan.

“Mmmm… you like that, don’t you, Theresa?” she purred. She nuzzled her face into my g-spot, which was not about the size of a dinner plate. Her soft cheeks and nose poked into the ridges deliciously. “You love having me inside your big, beautiful pussy.”

“Mmmmyessss,” I hissed, trying to keep my breathing even and slow. My thighs spread, and as best I could I pushed my hips up and forward. “My little lover… mmmhhhh… inside me.”

“I wish I could stay,” Sam mumbled into the hot flesh of my walls. The vibrations of her voice tickled me, and I felt more moisture gush from my depths. “I wish I could get deeper. You want that, don’t you? You want me to crawl up inside your womb?”

I knew it was impossible, but the mental image of Sam doing just that nearly made me cum right then and there. I held it back, though, plateauing. I moaned a deep, throaty grunt of desire. It was working.

“Unnnnngh… yes, Sam, baby,” I husked. I could barely believe the words that were coming out of my mouth. “I want you in my belly, forever. I want to be your new home, your new mommy. You’d be my baby girl, to keep safe and warm inside of my body until I needed you… and then I’d birth you out…”

“I’d like that, mommy,” Sam said in her little girl voice. “Push me out all slimy with your warm cum.”

My vagina was rippling now, almost beyond my conscious control. I felt something like an orgasm approach, but it was subtler… sublime, even. My body tensed, and I felt the wave of muscle-tightness reach my birth canal. The entire thing squeezed down on my lover, and she slid forward. I bore down on the contraction, letting instinct take over. I pushed and pushed and pushed, and though I knew I should have been exhausted, and there should have been no small amount of pain, I felt nothing but ecstasy.

At last, after what felt like long minutes, Sam moved. Something within me unclenched, and my labia parted with my lover’s passing. She was accompanied by a huge gush of my vagina juices, much of which clung to her almost like thick jelly. She gasped as she slid out of me and into the now-soaked sheets. My sex quivered and winked, and once Sam was beyond its confines I saw it begin to shrink visibly; nothing too fast, more like a slowly-deflating balloon.

I held Sam close to me as my body underwent the final stages of transformation. Our hands stroked my puffy flesh, but I was afraid of doing too much more. After a good half hour it had shrunk enough to allow me to move, and so Sam and I took a shower. I scrubbed her good and clean to get every last splash of my juices that I’d left in her hair or on her skin. She lathered up a good handfull of bodywash and cleaned my shrinking sex with loving devotion and tenderness. She didn’t miss an inch. Under the spray my legs finally were able to both point straight down – mostly – at the same time.

We dried one another off and changed the sheets. Something felt… different… between the two of us. Like we’d hit a peak. I’d had flings before, and though this was by far the most thrilling of them, there comes a time when the fun’s been had. Neither she nor I were really looking for a long-term thing. Her cleaning me, and patting me dry with soft towels, felt like a ritual – she was saying goodbye. It was… a lot of things. I felt like we’d really connected, but at the same time it had been something of a whirlwind. This entire week had been a whirlwind. And with the dawn of my final day of transformation I felt the constant urge to fuck finally go away. With that came a return to my normal mental state.

Sam and I talked about it over breakfast. She knew, too, I think. And we were both okay with it. A little sad, but neither of us teared up or got angry. We’d had fun – lots of fun – but it was over, and we both still liked one another. Just not enough to want to do something deeper.

We cleaned up my apartment and Sam packed up all her stuff. We shared a last, passionate kiss. Her hand came down to cup my sex, now back to its baseline size. It squished between my thighs, an orb of tight, smooth flesh about the size of a small cantaloupe. Her fingers sank into the space between my labia, and I felt her swell just a bit. Sam used her leverage to tug my sex to her, bringing my body close as we kissed.

She broke the kiss and sucked her fingers clean, never breaking eye contact.

“Come by the store if you want a special discount,” she purred. I watched her little butt, squeezed into a tight pair of jeans, wiggle as she walked down the hall to the stairs.

I sat back down on my bed in a daze. It was over… sort of. My transformation had finished. Between my legs was a vagina that would grow and swell with the same level of my arousal. I’d just spent three solid days fucking an adorable pixie of a lesbian. So many aspects of my life were going to change now. I’d have to get different clothes. Wearing underwear was out of the question. Would I let my friends or even my family know about what had happened to me? Would I search out other men and women with the same condition? The thought of finding a male counterpart was very intriguing. But I was also spent. Sam’s farewell grope felt good, but my body responded with a “normal” level of arousal. Before, that one gesture would have been enough to spark a marathon fuck-fest. But now I was back to normal… with the exception of the monster pussy bulging between my thighs. The bulb of flesh was warm and soft, sitting there like it was the most normal thing in the world.

I laid back down, thankful it was Saturday and work didn’t have to happen. I’d be able to catch up with my job’s training – it was mostly fluff anyway. But the thought of trying to sneak in some one-on-one lessons with Dylan made me tingle.

The sun was just coming up, but I wrapped myself, still naked and slightly damp from the shower, in my comforter. The blinds were drawn, and I was still quite tired from the previous three day’s activities. I slept, knowing that when I awoke a new chapter of my life would truly begin.