(Originally posted as a microfic exclusive to my Sponsus on March 21, 2020. Check out the link for dozens of early-access microfics and stories!)
I supposed it’s a bit regressive of me, but what’s the point of power if it doesn’t come with perks? So I wanted my assistant to be a sexy secretary type I could have some fun with. Unfortunately, selecting purely on that basis resulted in someone who was maybe not entirely competent in some others.
That was when Bimboco contacted me. I know, I know, from the name, it sounds like the last thing I needed. But it turns out their patent process was more customizable than you’d think from the name.
So I sent her off to their training program, and she got some custom lessons. They taught her how very important it was to do what her boss wants, to focus on my needs before everything else, to do and be whatever I want. That focus and drive was all she needed to be an excellent assistant… in every way I desired.
So I just realized I have several old commissioned captions I was
supposed to make public and never did. So I’ll be posting them over the
next few days. Enjoy!
Commission for Jurodan based on pictures and outline they provided. Commission your own captions via my Patreon!
“Honey…” Mara asked her husband as they were
getting undressed.
“Yes, dear?” asked Jacob. “Is there something
you need?”
It had already been quite a night. After a hard day at court
arguing a major case, Mara was stressed out and exhausted. But Jacob had been
there for her with a candlelit dinner, soft music, her favorite wine,
everything she needed to relax.
Well, almost everything. “I was wondering if maybe you
wanted to, um, pull out the big guns?”
He immediately walked up to her, pulled her into a hug, and
kissed the top of her head. “Is my love still stressed? Does that big,
beautiful brain of hers need a break?”
She sighed and snuggled against him. “Yes please.”
He pulled back a little, looked her in the eyes, and began
running a finger over her forehead in a lazy circle. “Of course. All you
need to do is ask.” Slowly he contracted the circle, spiraling in toward
the center of her forehead. “You remember that safe, comfortable, easy
place where your thoughts can just drift away as you sink down, your mind
contracting in and in, gently detaching from the room, from your day, from
everything except my words as you–” he tapped the center of her forehead
“–drop.”
Mara sagged suddenly against Jacob, but he held her in
place. Deftly, he removed her bra, and then lowered her softly into their bed.
“That’s right,” he said softly. “Just
drifting down, deeper and deeper. And as your thoughts float away, they leave
only my words, only pleasure and sensation. Feel that pleasure, that sensation,
growing from my touch. Filling up your head so there’s no room for thoughts,
just fuzzy, pink pleasure, isn’t that right?”
“Yeah,” Mara giggled.
“Good girl,” Jacob answered as he tweaked Mara’s
nipple, making her gasp. “And the more pleasure you feel, the more it
fills your head…”
“Is there any room left for thoughts?” asked Jacob
as he played with Mara’s breasts.
“No…” she giggled.
“That’s right,” he agreed. “No thoughts, no
stress, nothing but a very relaxed, silly, happy girl, isn’t that right?”
“Uh-huh.” She giggled again.
“And now that fuzzy pink pleasure is spreading,
flowing, dripping out of your silly little head and filling up your whole
body.”
“Mmm,” murmured Mara, her hips lifting off the bed
slightly. “Feels so good…”
“It does,” Jacob agreed. “So good to be a
happy, silly, horny girl. No need to think about anything but pleasure, even
after you wake up, isn’t that right?”
“Yeah,” she laughed.
“Good girl. Waking now in five… four…
three…”
Mara opened her eyes and grinned happily up at Jacob.
“Hi!” she chirped.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Oh, sooooo gooooood!” she said. She ran a hand
down over her torso to her panties. “And wet… Wanna help with
that?”
“Well, you have been a very good girl,” he said.
“So okay.”
“Yay!” Mara squealed and scrambled to remove her
panties while Jacob took off his pants.
Tomorrow, she would again be the high-powered attorney and
he the supportive husband who loved her intelligence and drive. But tonight,
she was his bimbo fuckbunny and he would use her like the mindless plaything
she was.
It was everything she wanted and exactly what she needed.
So I just realized I have several old commissioned captions I was
supposed to make public and never did. So I’ll be posting them over the
next few days. Enjoy!
Commission for Jurodan based on pictures and outline they provided. Commission your own captions via my Patreon!
All images are of Brittany and Brandi Kelly and from Playboyplus.com
Just because she was a witch, that didn’t mean Kelly didn’t
love her husband. Sure, people could talk about the corrupting influence of
dark magic, but the fact was that she loved him and wanted him to be happy.
That was why she’d spiked his drink with that love potion
back in high school, after all–so that he would love her and she could make
him happy.
And because she wanted him to be happy, and thanks to that
potion he could never get enough of her, once a year on their anniversary she
cast the duplication spell, dividing herself into two identical versions of
herself, so he could have a threesome while still being entirely and only hers
(forever).
It was not a difficult spell, but it was not without risk:
magic could create flesh but not minds, so her one mind would be divided
between two bodies. That meant each half was only half as intelligent,
rendering her unable to cast even the simplest spells.
But it greatly excited her husband, and, she had to admit,
herself: the giddy feeling of emptiness, the quiet in her thoughts quickly
filled in by the sensations of her body–it was quite a rush. And it only
lasted until dawn, anyway, when the spell broke and the two halves returned to
one.
“Welcome home, honey!” Kelly and Kelly said in
unison. They giggled. It felt so good to not have to think, or worry, or
plan. They knew they couldn’t handle any of that boring stuff, so they didn’t
try. They could just relax and have fun.
Their husband smiled, and their hearts leapt. They loved him
so much! It was hard to figure out how to please him, but luckily he was always
ready to tell them.
Kelly and Kelly stripped at their husband’s direction, never
losing their happy smiles. They giggled in confusion when he said something
about a potion.
“Whazzat?” they asked.
“It’s just like the one you gave me,” he
explained. “All those years ago. Did you think I’d never find out?”
He sighed. “I can’t help but love you, want you, need you… but that
doesn’t prevent me from being furious at you.”
Kelly and Kelly whimpered. “We’re so sorry we made you
mad! Is there anything we can do to make it up to you?”
He smiled. “Yes there is.” He handed the pigtailed
Kelly a vial of something pink and thick. “One of your ‘friends’ gave me
this–the same one that revealed what you’d done to me.” He shook his
head. “You really shouldn’t have been quite so pushy toward them–just
because you’re the stronger witch doesn’t mean they can’t find a way to get
back at you.”
Kelly and Kelly blinked at him in confusion.
He sighed. “You have no idea how hard it is to stay mad
at you. I know it’s the potion! But I have to hold onto it… have to remind
myself that the best thing for you is to keep you happy and safe. And you will
be happy, and you will be safe–none of your enemies will come after you
if you’re no longer a threat.”
He nodded to the Kelly holding the vial. “Drink
up.”
With a shrug, she did. She loved him, and trusted him, and
knew he trusted her. Why wouldn’t she?
1 year later…
Kelly and Kelly smiled up happily at their husband. “This
picnic was a SUCH a good idea,” said the Kelly in the red shoes.
The Kelly in the white shoes nodded. “It really was!
Happy… uh… thingy!”
One Kelly had drunk the same love potion she’d given her
husband, permanently altering her mind. That shifted them out of synch; when
dawn came, the spell wore off, but they couldn’t reintegrate. They remained two
separate people, no longer entirely identical.
Then he gave the other Kelly the other dose of love potion,
but by then it was too late for her; both of them were equally besotted with
him, but the spell had already worn off, so there was nothing to make them
combine. They would be separate–albeit very, very similar–people forever.
So he was happy. He had twice the woman he loved, and his
revenge.
And the rest of her coven were happy–they were rid of the
bossy, pushy, controlling leader that none of them had the power to challenge
directly.
And most of all, Kelly and Kelly were happy–happy to never
have to think, or make a decision, or do anything but feel good and make the
man they loved feel good, for the rest of their lives.
So I just realized I have several old commissioned captions I was
supposed to make public and never did. So I’ll be posting them over the
next few days. Enjoy!
Commission for Jurodan based on pictures and outline they provided. Commission your own captions via my Patreon!
Three hours later…
Sam shuddered, moaned, and then pulled his cock out of
Tabitha’s mouth. She swallowed with a smile, then used one finger to pick up a
stray blob of cum from her cheek. Still smiling up at Sam, she slowly sucked it
off her finger.
Sam tucked his cock back into his jeans and collapsed back
onto the couch. “Okay, this is fucking awesome,” he said, to a chorus
of agreement from the rest of the group.
Tabitha, still kneeling in the middle of the floor, giggled.
Through the pink haze that now filled her thoughts, she was aware the boys were
happy, and making them happy made her happy.
“Too bad we’ve lost our DM,” said Kevin. “I
was looking forward to figuring out what Ser Lockholme was up to.”
“And we were about to level,” said Jim. “I was
finally going to get that last feat I needed for my new build!”
Aaron sighed. “Look, we can start a new campaign.”
“And who’ll run it, you?” asked Jim. “I’m not
going through another meatgrinder.”
“Better that than another boring hack-and-slash,”
Aaron countered. “Besides, we’ve all sampled her now. Would you really
have her go back to the way she was?”
They all considered a moment. The old Tabitha had been a
great DM, but other than that she was sarcastic, combative, and harsh. Not to
mention apple-shaped–one of the effects of the patch had been to move most of
the fat from her now-flat tummy to her previously-flat chest, butt, and hips.
“Well, no,” Jim admitted.
“It’s just too bad we can’t have both,” said
Kevin.
Sam looked up from the instruction sheet that had come with
the patch, which he’d been reading while the others argued. “I think maybe
we can…”
* * *
“Everyone roll Will saves,” Tabitha told the
group.
They groaned and grumbled in response, but they dutifully
rolled their dice and reported the results to Tabitha.
“Okay,” she said. She consulted the notes she kept
carefully hidden behind the screen in front of her. “Jim, Roland is fine.
The rest of you are Dazed, but you can attempt another save on your next
turn.” She checked another note. “Jim, you’re up.”
Jim shook his d20 in his cupped hands. “I’m going to
try Smite Evil again,” he said.
“Oh come on,” said Aaron. “You didn’t hit on
a 16 last round! It’ll just dodge again.”
“I know that,” said Jim, “but Roland
doesn’t!” The others groaned. “He has faith!” Jim said
defensively. “Anyway, OOC knowledge is cheating.” He rolled.
“That’s a crit,” said Tabitha. “Okay, you
hit. Roll damage.”
“Ha!” Jim rolled out another handful of dice.
“Ye of little faith… whoa.”
“That’s, um… that’s a good roll,” said Kevin.
“Yeah,” said Tabitha. “The creature screams
and collapses, dead. The maiden tied to the altar tearfully thanks you for
saving her, and begs to be released.”
“Great!” said Aaron. “We free her and claim
our reward from the grateful maiden.” He grinned suggestively at Tabitha.
“How about we play that out, babe?”
“What?” Tabitha was shocked. “I’m not going
to–”
“LARP time, Tabitha,” said Aaron.
Tabitha’s words caught in her throat. Her eyes widened as
the delicious pink fog came flooding back in. It never went away completely, of
course. When she was crafting or running her campaigns, it retreated far enough
for her old skills, her old personality, to reassert themselves–but it still
covered any questions of what she did with the rest of her time, why she looked
so different now, or why she only ever wore lingerie or slutty cosplays
anymore.
But when one of the boys said those magic words, it came
back completely. Her thoughts slowed and stopped as she drowned in happy, horny
bliss. She existed to entertain the boys, in all ways, at all times–but this
way of entertaining them was much easier and more fun.
“Well, you got the killing blow,” said Aaron.
“You get first dibs, Jim.”
Grinning, he took Tabitha by the hand and led her out of the
room. Not long after, the moans and giggles began.
“You’re a genius, man,” said Kevin.
Sam shrugged. “I just read the instructions.” The
Bimboozler™ instructions had explained that, for a few hours after initial
application, the level of Bimboozling™ was adjustable, and command phrases
could be installed to allow switching between different levels, so that the new
bimbo could still function out in the world if she needed to. The example the
instructions gave was installing a work mode she could use to go out and hold
down a job, but Sam had suggested something different: DM mode.
Jim soon returned, and the other three took their turns
fucking their toy. Finally Tabitha returned to the gaming table, breathless,
happy, naked, and cum-spattered.
The four others took their seats at the table, and then
Kevin said, “Back to the game, Tabitha.”
Her glazed eyes focused, her dazed smile turned back into a
slight frown of concentration. “Okay,” she said. “XP and
treasure time…”
So I just realized I have several old commissioned captions I was
supposed to make public and never did. So I’ll be posting them over the
next few days. Enjoy!
Commission for Jurodan based on pictures and outline they provided. Commission your own captions via my Patreon!
This story is set in the same universe as my superhero story Today the City…, the first two chapters of which are available on my Patreon!
Starfury carefully studied herself in the mirror, lifting
her hair and turning her head from side to side to make sure she had it right.
A photograph stuck in the mirror frame displayed the same woman, in the same
outfit.
“No, the nose is still a little off,” Corvid said.
Starfury concentrated briefly, and her nose shifted,
becoming slightly narrower and sharper.
“That’s better,” said Corvid. “Perfect,
actually.”
Starfury beamed. After nearly four years on Earth, she was still
learning. She had mastered a couple of human forms, but taking on new ones was
still a challenge, particularly if she had to copy someone instead of just
making up her own.
That was nothing, though, compared to the culture.
Fortunately, that was what Corvid was here to help with.
“So you can just… implant her personality?”
Starfury asked.
“Yes,” said Corvid. “You’ll still be in
there, watching, but a copy of this woman’s personality–” she tapped the
photo in the mirror frame–“will be in control. Of course she doesn’t have
access to any of your powers, but you can take control back whenever you want.
And she’s even named Michelle, so there should be a minimum of confusion.”
Starfury nodded. Starfury was the literal translation of her
Zaxyfrglkian name, which humans couldn’t even hear properly, let alone
pronounce, and the name under which she fired energy bolts at criminals. For
reasons that were still a little vague to her, that couldn’t be the name under
which she enrolled at State or joined Sigma Delta Omega, the sorority that
served as a front for the superhero team to which both she and Corvid belonged.
So for that she used the closest human name to her real one, Michelle Michaels.
She’d even practiced thinking of herself as Michelle when in human form, to
help fit in better.
She took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m ready.”
Corvid closed her eyes and called up her magic. Her black
cloak fluttered in a nonexistent wind as the power came to her, and then she
cast the spell, transferring the persona she had already constructed into
Starfury’s brain.
*
“So like, I’m here for my job interview?” Michelle
eyed the bouncer and liked what she saw. He was big, tough-looking, quiet,
exactly her type. A strange thought passed through her head–ew, humans–but
she pushed it aside and followed the bouncer in.
He led her to the back of the dark, smoky club, through a
door guarded by more big, tough, quiet men, and up a staircase. She found
herself in an opulent lounge, just as dark and smoky as the club below, but
with a warm, yellowish tint to what light it did have. Half-naked women gyrated
in front of couches on which men lounged, grinning; here and there women
wearing even less did other things for men on couches.
But at the very back of the room, a large, beefy man leaned
back on a couch, a woman in each arm, guards even bigger and tougher-looking
than the bouncers standing attentively on either side. Michelle approached him
slowly. It was him! “Shady” Carmichael, owner of half the clubs in
the city.
And major distributor for the cartels. The thought
drifted through Michelle’s head. It was weird–it didn’t sound at all
like her. She shook off the momentary confusion–she was here to work!
Mr. Carmichael looked her up and down. “Not bad,”
he said. “Show me what you got.”
Smiling, Michelle dropped her coat. She wore nothing
underneath but a hot pink teddy and matching stockings. She knew this club was
a lot classier than the strip joints she’d worked in the past, so she’d worn
her best lingerie, hoping to impress. She began to sway in place, then to
dance, lifting her hair and turning to show off her body, hoping that Mr.
Carmichael would approve.
“Nice,” he said, and popped a pill.
From inside Michelle, Starfury recognized it. Cream. The new
party drug that had been showing up across the city, the reason she was
investigating Carmichael. It gave a nice buzz to the person that took it, but
what made it dangerous was that it rapidly concentrated in seminal fluid. A few
minutes after taking it, Carmichael’s cum would be an intensely powerful
euphoric which caused long-term alterations to the brain’s reward structures
after one dose, after which powerful withdrawal symptoms set in if the
victim didn’t get more Cream-dosed cum daily.
The human brain’s reward structures. In her natural
form, Starfury’s brain chemistry was completely different from a human’s, so it
would have no effect on her. In human form, on the other hand, her brain was
human–but she had everything she needed. Carmichael had Cream, that was enough
evidence to bring in the police. She took back control from the implanted
personality.
Michelle continued to dance, slowly stripping for Mr.
Carmichael. He watched her with a smile–he liked her! Briefly she fantasized
about becoming like the girls on his arms–the parties she would get to go to,
the gifts she would receive.
Stop! thought Starfury. Stop dancing and give me
back my body! But it wasn’t working. Something was wrong with Corvid’s
spell, and she couldn’t get back control.
Michelle smiled when she saw Carmichael pull out his cock.
Now she knew she was in. Naked, she straddled him. Dancing always made
her wet; his cock slid into her easily. Somewhere in the back of her head there
was screaming, but that didn’t make any sense, so she ignored it.
Nonononono! Starfury shouted desperately. In human
form, her brain was human. The cum would affect her! And when she transformed
back–if I’m EVER able to get back control and transform back–her brain
would transform into the analogous structures of her own species… including
the changes caused by the drug.
Michelle eagerly rode Carmichael’s cock. He was very
obviously enjoying himself. There was no way he wouldn’t hire her now!
But something was going on in her head, this weird feeling like she should
stop–but if she did that, she wouldn’t get hired! But a strange
pressure was building…
Starfury pushed and screamed, and suddenly she felt
something give. Michelle–the other Michelle, the constructed one–was
dissolving away! She could–
Carmichael came. His cum filled her pussy, and as it did,
Michelle faded away. Starfury was back!
Just a moment too late. The pleasure struck her like a
physical blow, and she collapsed against Carmichael, shuddering and trembling
in overwhelming ecstary. She had to change back, had to resume her natural
form, before it fully affected her!
But euphoria was settling in, a deep and incredible feel of
total relaxation and bliss. She knew she had to act, but it just didn’t feel
that urgent. Nothing did. Nothing could.
“Well, Michelle,” said Carmichael. “Or should
I say Starfury? I think we’re going to have a lot of fun with you.”
Corvid entered the room above the club and stopped dead at
the sight before her: Cosmic Cheerleader, kneeling between a trio of men,
pleasuring them with every appearance of total happiness.
“No!” she gasped. “They got you–” But
then she sensed the residue of her spell and realized the truth.
“Michelle,” she said. That wasn’t quite as bad, but… but it didn’t
matter. Nothing did anymore. What she’d done was unforgivable; she deserved the
pit of black despair she now found herself in.
Starfury ignored her, focused intently on her task. This was
what she did now, taking the form of celebrities, superheroines, whoever her
customers desired, and in turn they fed her yummy cum loaded with Cream. This
particular game was one of her favorites: one of these men had taken Cream,
though she didn’t know which, and she needed to swallow the cum of all three to
make sure she got it. Needed to.
She’d barely gone half an hour without a dose in the few
days she’d been her. She was either feeling the orgasmic pleasure of the
initial rush or the sleepy contentment as the drug took full effect, or else
she was desperately trying to get more. She could barely think, but it didn’t
matter; all that mattered was how good she felt.
Corvid walked slowly up to Carmichael, who smiled at her.
“Well done,” he said. “She’s already making me a mint.”
Corvid nodded sadly.
“Which means you get your reward,” Carmichael
said, as he swallowed another Cream pill.
Corvid shuddered in disgust at herself, at him, at
everything. But when he pulled out his cock, she fell to her knees and began to
suck.
“I think I’ll have you fetch me one of the Protectors
next,” he said. “Not one of the big guns, but maybe Comet, or Pinup.
I bet you could fool one of them, couldn’t you?”
She could. What was worse was, she knew she would.
Mind reeling at what she’d just
witnessed, Cynthia picked herself up off the ground and staggered over to the
old woman. For a moment, Cynthia thought she was dead, but then heard her moan.
“No…” Grankitty said.
“Your birthday… Run, girl… before it… claims you… before… he
finds you…”
Cynthia shook her head. “It’s
gone, Grankitty. We’re safe.” She was crying, she realized. “You
saved us.”
“Not… that…” Grankitty
wheezed. “You… before I…” Her eyes stopped focusing on Cynthia,
or anything else. Slowly she breathed out, a long, horrible rattling sound.
She didn’t breathe back in.
“Grankitty?” Cynthia pled,
shaking her slightly. “Grankitty!”
Through her tears, she saw something
rising from Grankitty’s body like mist. It gathered together in the air above
her, forming into a softball-sized sphere of light and darkness, swirling
around each other but never blending. Cynthia stared at it open mouth, her mind
finally shutting down at one too many impossible things.
The mist finished congealing, and
the ball of light and darkness hung in the air a moment. It bobbed slightly
this way and that, and Cynthia remembered what Grankitty had said about running.
She tried to scramble to her feet, but it was too late. The ball fixed on her,
and then shot forward with blazing speed directly into her heart.
Cynthia gasped as a wave of pure joy
swept through her entire being, light and life and energy singing in her blood.
Then another wave followed, just as pleasurable but utterly different, a
tingling aching bliss that hollowed her out and made her skin tingle. Then
another wave filled her with joyful light, and then again the empty, ecstatic
darkness. Light and dark, joy and pleasure, love and lust swept through her in
wave after after, following each other faster and faster until she couldn’t
distinguish them anymore, could only float limply and helplessly in their grip.
Then the changes began. She could
feel her face shifting, and knew what was happening: her sunburn healed,
blemishes erased, imperfections perfected, until it was as flawless and
beautiful as a doll, just barely recognizable as her own face. Her hair turned
finer and fuller, bursting out of its pigtails and transforming into gentle
waves of perfect gold, which then wound themselves back into perfectly braided
pigtails. Her legs got longer and leaner, her skirt going from respectable to
obscenely short in the process. Her torso lengthened too, her waist slimming
and tummy flattening while her breasts swelled, straining against her blouse.
The blouse lost, buttons spanging off it in every direction, vanishing among
the shelves or bouncing off the ceiling. A moment later, her bra snapped too,
disintegrating away as the remnants of her blouse tied themselves into a knot
below her ribcage, just barely covering the bare minimum of her breasts. Her
shoes and socks shifted too, the former becoming chunky, black, high-heeled
Mary Janes, while her socks lengthened, creeping past her knees and halfway up
her thighs.
The light faded, and she floated
back to her feet. She ran disbelieving hands over her face, chest, belly. She
felt incredible, more alive and more powerful than she’d ever been in
her life, and her skin tingled everywhere she touched.
And if bare skin felt that good…
She ran a hand up to her breast, and gently stroked through the thin fabric.
Fingertips brushed over her nipple–and her eyes rolled back as her knees
nearly buckled.
“Ohhh wooooow…” she
breathed. Grinning breathlessly as she continued teasing her breasts, she
looked down at the floor, much more distant than she was used to. She ran her
free hand along the strip of bare skin between sock and skirt, then slowly
pulled up the skirt. She licked her lips in anticipation, unable to imagine how
good this was going to feel–
“I wouldn’t do that if I were
you,” said a small, high, but squeaky voice.
She turned and stared at yet another
impossibility: the toy cat she’d been looking at earlier was standing a few
feet away, glaring up at her with hands on hips.
It sighed. “I’m sorry this
happened, but I did try to warn you, Cynthia–well, I guess that name
doesn’t really fit you like this, huh?” It shook its head sorrowfully.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop this… Syn.”
Want to see all of this story, and many others, right now? Check out my Patreon for early access to all stories, plus exclusive stories and captions!
Cynthia screamed and struggled in
the creature’s iron grip. She kicked futilely in the air, beat ineffectively at
it with her fists, and screamed until her throat was raw, but it still slowly
lifted her up and back.
Somewhere below and to her left
there was a flare of light, and then a voice spoke. It was a woman’s voice, a
warm, rich contralto with just a bit of Irish lilt woven through it. “Put
her down, Beast,” she said firmly. “It’s me you’re here for.”
The world spun as the creature
tossed Cynthia aside. She braced herself to hit the ground or a shelf, but
fortunately crashed into a display of stuffed animals.
She stared at the woman staring
defiantly at the monster. She was standing just where Grankitty had been, but
the old woman in her shawl was gone. In her place was a radiant–literally, the
light earlier had apparently been her–beauty around Cynthia’s age, her perfect
body clad only in a black, lacy corset-and-panties set, matching garter belt
and sheer stockings, long, fingerless black lace gloves, and shiny black high-heeled
ankle boots.
As the monster charged her, she
laughed and tossed her tumbling mass of curly auburn hair defiantly. Just as
the creature reached to grab her, she jumped and flipped, doing a handstand on
its knobbly hand before throwing herself higher, catching it on the chin with
both boots, then somersaulting backwards in the air before dropping lightly
onto her feet.
Cynthia stared in shock. Who WAS
this woman? With her perfect beauty and superhuman athletics, she could very
well be an angel… But her body and outfit suggested her origins lay in the
opposite direction. At the same time, there was something familiar about her…
And then it clicked. That impossibly
beautiful, perfect face! Make the nose a little crooked, the eyes a little
smaller, add a mole and wrinkle the whole thing up like a grape turning into a
raisin, and you had… “Grankitty?” Cynthia whispered in disbelief,
still sprawled in a pile of stuffed bunnies and puppies.
The other woman ignored her, leaping
again at the creature. Her hands flared with light, and it staggered back,
roaring.
“Yeah!” Cynthia found
herself cheering. “Get that thing!”
But it was rallying. As she sprang
back, it swiped at her, sending her crashing into the wall. She was back on her
feet almost immediately, but not quite fast enough: the thing caught her,
pinning her arms to her sides. She struggled, but it was clearly stronger than
her.
The creature held her in its palm
like a doll, using thumb and fingers to hold her arms. With one swipe of its
other claw, it tore open her corset and panties, exposing full, firm breasts
and a neat triangle of red hair. The fur at the creature’s own crotch stirred,
and a cock emerged, tiny-looking compared to the creature’s massive bulk, but
more than a foot long in reality.
Cynthia screamed again. She’d never
seen a penis before–a real, erect one, not an illustration in a biology book
or photo in a magazine passed around the girls’ dorm accompanied by muted
giggles–but she was sure they weren’t supposed to be that long or thick. How
could that go inside a person!?
But the creature shoved the redhead
onto its cock, and her cry didn’t exactly sound like pain. Grabbing her thighs
in its massive hands, it began pumping her up and down its length, and her
struggles soon ceased. In fact, she sounded to Cynthia almost like she was…
enjoying it?
She cried out, and flared with
light. The creature grunted, shuddered, and then… dissolved away into
nothing.
Grankitty hit the ground with a sickening crack.
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Half a continent away from Cynthia’s terror, Kelly opened
the door to her apartment, surprised to find it wasn’t locked.
“Emma?” she called out as she entered the living room, dim and
shadowy by the light filtering in through the curtains. Her girlfriend
shouldn’t be home this early, but why else would the door be unlocked.
Kelly’s heart froze as she heard a
clatter from the bedroom, followed by a familiar giggle. It couldn’t be,
she thought. Emma’s not–she wouldn’t– But the squeaking of bedsprings
was unmistakable.
Shock gave way to rage, and Kelly
slammed the bedroom door open. Her screaming fury died on her lips, however, at
what she saw: Emma, her lithe body arched backward, her face blissful as she
rode… a man.
“What the fuck..?” Kelly
breathed. She preferred women but had had flings with guys here and
there–though none since she started dating Emma, obviously. But Emma? Emma was
100% lesbian, zero interest in boning dudes whatsoever. Yet here she was,
apparently having the time of her life fucking a man Kelly’d never seen before,
a wiry little guy, fit but very short.
The man looked at Kelly, his eyes
deep and dark as a mineshaft. “Hello,” he said with a smile and just
a trace of an accent–British, but something else too.
“What the fuck!?” Kelly
said louder. “Emma, who is this!?”
Emma kept riding the man, panting as
she turned her head to talk to Kelly. “God, Kels, I had no idea… So
good… Can’t stop…”
“What have you done to her, you
bastard!?” Kelly demanded, stepping further into the room. “Who the
fuck do you think you are?”
“Stop,” the man said.
“Calm down.”
Kelly stood stock-still, feeling her
anger and hurt draining out of her. In its place came a pleasant sort of
floating feeling, a serene unconcern, and that was terrifying. Or at least it
should be, but she couldn’t quite seem to feel it.
The man sat up, holding onto Emma’s
hips to keep her bouncing in his lap. He looked Kelly up and down, and
apparently liked what he saw. “Strip,” he said.
Feeling like she was in a dream,
Kelly complied. She knew she shouldn’t, but it was so easy to just go along
with it, so pleasant…
“I am glad I spotted you, my
dear,” he said to Emma. “I had no idea I’d be getting two for
one.” He beckoned Kelly to come closer, and she did.
Any second, she knew, he was going
to order her to join him and Emma for a threesome. That should probably bother
her, but at the moment she didn’t much mind. He seemed able to control her
emotions and actions, so he’d probably make her enjoy it.
But instead, to her surprise, he
stopped, whipping his head around to stare right through her. A wild,
triumphant grin spread across his face. “Her! She’s finally
activating.” He laughed and shoved Emma of his cock. “You’re mine now!”
he declared to no one in particular, then snapped his fingers.
Clothing–nondescript slacks and a shirt–appeared on him as he got out of bed
and walked toward the bedroom door.
He paused, then turned back to face
Emma and Kelly. “Forget,” he said, making an odd little
half-wave.
Kelly blinked. What had she been
doing? She looked down at her naked body, and then turned to see Emma sprawling
on the bed, flushed, her hair disheveled. Kelly grinned. Right, that’s what.
She leaped onto the bed, and Emma giggled.
The last wizard on Earth let himself out of
their apartment. As he waited for the elevator, he whistled a tune forgotten
for centuries. He’d found her again, and just in time. Now the plans of a
millenium could be fulfilled.
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Miss Kitty’s was a strange toystore.
It was not a place to buy Pokemon cards or video games or Barbies. Miss Kitty
mostly sold dolls and stuffed animals, ugly, lumpy things that were almost
impossible not to love, at least for Cynthia. Also stickers, huge sheets of
them kept by the checkout counter, and every single year as far as she could
remember Cynthia had received one on her birthday.
As she walked deeper into the shop,
a bent figure shuffled slowly around the corner. “Grankitty!” Cynthia
cried as if she hadn’t seen the old woman at least once a week for the past
decade.
“Cynthia,” the old woman
said gravely.
They were not actually related.
Cynthia had simply declared Miss Kitty, the wizened old shop owner, her
grandmother on first meeting her, and kept calling her that since. She made a
good grandmother–she was quiet and serious, but indulgent as long as Cynthia
wasn’t too noisy or messy, and something about the way her green eyes twinkled
in that wrinkly dark face screamed “witch.” Cynthia was quietly
certain Grankitty was, if not magic herself, at least privy to secrets beyond
what the nuns could or would teach. She ran a small, dim, old-fashioned
toyshop, how could she NOT have something mysterious tucked away in the back?
“Here for your birthday
stickers, child?” the old woman asked.
“Of course.” Cynthia
smiled.
“Not too old for them?”
“Never!” Cynthia cried in
mock-horror. “I plan to be young forever, and the secret is
stickers.”
The old woman chuckled drily.
“Good luck to ya, then,” she said. Every once in a while just the
hint of an accent Cynthia couldn’t place would creep through.
“Ruthie thinks I’m too
old,” said Cynthia.
“Fah! I’m thrice as old as the
two of ya together, and I’m not yet too old for stickers.”
Cynthia’s eyes drifted upward,
flicking back and forth as she did the math. “How old ARE you,
Grankitty?”
“As old as my tongue and
slightly older than my teeth,” she replied sternly. “And you, child,
are old enough to know better than to ask that kind of question.”
“Yes, Grankitty,” Cynthia
said dutifully. She turned to browse the shelves, looking for anything new the
store might have gotten in since her last visit.
After a few minutes, she found
something, an adorable, floppy stuffed tiger kitten, about four inches long.
“Grankitty?” she called out. “How much is…"
She trailed off as she stepped
around a shelf and saw Grankitty’s face. It was white as a sheet, and she
looked like she was about to be sick.
"Grankitty–” Cynthia
started, but Grankitty cut her of with a gesture. In the silence, Cynthia
listened. She had grown up in the city; the whine of sirens and thump-thump of
construction was just background noise to her. But those weren’t just sirens
she could hear; there were screams mixed in as well.
The thumping grew closer, faster, the toys
rattling on the shelves as the ground shook, and then–
Cynthia saw it just a moment through
the crowded display window, a massive, dark, hulking shape, and then the whole
front wall caved in. Shards of glass and bits of green-painted wood showered
over her as she screamed.
The thing was so tall it had to
hunch over to fit inside the shop, and as wide as it was tall. It was dark
greenish-brown, and scaly where it wasn’t furry. Its legs were thick and squat,
its arms were lean, muscular, much too long for its body, and ended in massive
clawed hands.
She screamed again, kept screaming.
She’d fallen onto her butt at some point, and scrambled backwards in a panic as
the thing reached for her. She rolled over, onto her knees, struggling to get
away and get to her feet at the same time.
Then the huge claws were wrapping around her
torso, impossible strength pulling her back and into the air.
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