The Dog Sitter

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Other Tales

Cordelia Speedicut

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Copyright 2016 Smashwords Edition ISBN: 9781370216116

Cover: Rojan - illustration from ‘Devergondages’

This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial purposes. 

If you enjoyed this book, please look for other works by this author.

. * All characters herein are adults, eighteen or over. *

Contents:

Dog Sitter - Part 1 & Part 2 - Several quick and silly riffs on the old “girl meets mad scientist (to say nothing of his dog)” story. Of course, my Heroine would never ordinarily Dream of engaging in the Acts depicted here, but for certain Sinister Influences. And neither would the dog. (Note that the italicised portions of Part 1 may be considered to be Val/Sally’s thought-bubbles.)

The Fountain - A twisted quickie in which a young Wicca is drawn by a Greater Power to an assignation of Wicked Intent. Transmogrification will Ensue.

The Toy Shoppe - a Midwinter’s Tale - Part 1 & Part 2 - A young Woman, who is no longer in Kansas, faces Death only to make Unusual new friends. 

The Dog Sitter - Part One

Brrr! Here I am, slinking through my garden gate at six o’clock on a Saturday morning, in nothing but my housecoat and slippers. I should have told Doc I couldn’t look after his monster dog – Geez, the thing is nearly as big as me. So what, if his Auntie is sick? Aren’t German Shepherds supposed to be good with sick people, or something? But I guess that would be kinda crummy, what with Doc having only just rented this cool cottage to me, for cheap. And no hanky-panky, either. He’s a proper old gentleman. Not like Charlie. Good riddance to you, Dude. And good luck finding me in this town.

Okay, there’s Fritz’s kennel. I’m not afraid of him. Just have to show him who’s boss.

“Hey, Fritz! I’m not afraid of you!”

This dog-sitting gig is no big deal, really. Crappy feeding schedule, though. I should’ve cheated – Fritz looks like he coulda gone another couple hours before breakfast. Oh well, I’m here now.

“Here you go, dog, two cups of the finest of kibble. Enjoy – You’ll get a walk later.”

Cause right now, I’m gonna go jump back into bed and pretend I’m still sleeping in.

“Good, huh? Oof! Hey, stop! Come back here!”

You won’t get very far, you big dope. The yard’s fenced. That’s right, come over …

“Hey! Gimme back my slipper!”

Cheeky goof. Go ahead. Dance around all you like. I am SO not chasing after you!

“That’s it … closer … closer … gotchaaaaa! Oh, shit!”

Ouch. That hurt, ya dumb dog. Huh. It’s all fun until someone slams face first into the grass.

“Stop bouncing around me, bonehead!”

There. That’s a start. I’m back up on my hands and knees. But my housecoat is so rucked up, I can feel a cold breeze on my tush …

“Whoa!”

Get your cold, bristly dog-snout out of there …  it tickles!

“Hey, stop pushing! Fritz, no! No licking!”

Oh my God … that hot tongue feels so good polishing my … shit, now I’m lubing … but, German Shepherd … Yuck!

“Fritz, stop that right now! Hey! Let go of my waist. Stop fooling around!”

Oh, SHIT! He’s poking at me with his cock!

“Fritz! Help! No! Stop!”

Noo …  he’s got me by the back of my neck … stop growling … please, don’t hurt me! Look. See? I’ve stopped struggling! Christ! Now the tip of his tool is lodged in my pussy. This can’t be happening!  I’m so wet from that tonguing, he’ll be able to … Oh, fuck, that slid inside me easy! He’s starting to hump me!! Shit! Every stroke is going deeper … and deeper … how long is this dog’s wang? It just keeps coming … where was he hiding it all? It’s reaching places Charlie never did … it’s gonna do me an injury!

Maybe if I lift my rump up … like this … and press my breasts on the grass … there, that’s better.

Thank God, he’s slowing down ... I might survive this, after all … oh, no! His shaft is growing! How could it … ? Oof! Please, no - that’s not gonna fit … whoa! Christ! He got it back in me … all of it, balls-deep ... and I can feel the base of that sucker swelling inside me even more! It must be the size of a softball … stop growing, anytime!

Oh. My. God. Now Fritz is cumming! I can feel it ... so hot … flooding all through my belly! 

Whew. That’s odd … I can practically feel the panic drain out of me. It’s all over.

O-kay … Fritz  shot his load into me, but here we are, still locked together… thanks to that huge knob at the base of his cock … my poor stretched pussy lips have clamped behind it, tight. The rest of his tool is still hard, too … I can feel my pussy walls squeezing it … God, I’m working over the length of it in waves ... I’m like a human milking machine … I can’t seem to make myself stop.

I’m not trying that hard, though, am I? This is so fucked up … I should be doing something or other. But I’ve been positively mellow ever since Fritz came inside me. Totally relaxed … except for this pulsating pussy grip I have on his dog-cock … kinda nice, really.

So what happens now? How long are we gonna be stuck together like this? ‘Till tomorrow when Doc gets home? That would be sort of embarrassing … in the meantime … uhhh … I may as well go with the flow... I’m so close to coming, myself … now that I’m not scared … ohhh …

“OH! Yes! Yes! Fuck YES!” 

Pussy, do your stuff! Yes! Strip the last drop of cum out of Fritz’s fuck stick!

Mmmm … that was so good … I can’t believe this! I just came for a German Shepherd … and my pussy is still gripping his big hard cock … it’s so tight … I can feel the pressure of all his doggie-juices trapped deep inside me … uhhh … Geez! I think I’m gonna come again …

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Hey! Fritz - what are you doing? No, wait! I still have your pecker clamped tight ... stop squirming around … that pulls. Yow, don’t do that! You can’t… oh … there you are, facing the other way. Not very sociable, ya know. Fine. I’ll just kneel here, then. Right now, I feel too good to care.

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Shit – did I really doze off? Fritz’s cock must have finally shrunk – he’s popped free. Sure - go snooze under that tree - see if I care. Contented with a job well done, are ya? Hmph - how long has it been since he jumped me? The sun’s come up over the trees and it’s beginning to warm up.

Okay, on your feet, Val.  I wonder if old Miss Norton saw us out her kitchen window? Only, I don’t seem to care. I should be freaked. Or at least conflicted. What just happened is plain wrong, on a whole bunch of levels – isn’t it? I’m pretty sure Miss Norton would think so. But right now I just feel like I do after a big thanksgiving dinner – satisfied, tired, and a little too full. Okay, plus I’m a bit sore, so maybe this is more like how I feel after dinner and a hot date.  Definitely tired, either way. I’m going back to bed. Fritz can look after himself for a while.

Mmm … that grass feels nice on my bare feet … and there’s still that pleasant warm sensation washing deep in my belly. Must sleep.

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Huh. Awake ...  more or less. Feeling a bit muzzy-headed. What time is it? I remember … a weird, whacked dream. Only … I still have that all-over warm glow.  Like a mild fever ... but nicer. And my muscles are stiff.  Even ones I didn’t know I had. Maybe … oh, shit. My dressing gown’s all muddy.

Right. Out of bed, Val … and straight for the shower. There. Full bore and hot... that stings … ought to wake me up nicely. Damn, my legs are getting positively shaggy. I coulda swore I just shaved them. Well, it’ll just have to keep. I’m starving.

Mmm. Gotta love a good towelling. Crap.  I must have picked up a rash from the grass this morning. There’s a half dozen red spots on my chest, below my breasts. And on my belly. Mosquito bites, maybe. Odd they’re in two vertical rows, though. Whatever. No calamine around, anyway.

I’ll just wrap this big towel around myself … and clack off down the hall to the kitchen. Gonna have to trim those nails soon, too. Anyhow, I’m not that stiff now. I’ve got a positive spring in my step.  I’m actually bouncing along on my toes. Well, I always did feel good after a nice roll in the hay. Heh – heh.  Only usually Charlie was still hanging around the place afterward. God! Gotta get a grip!  What happened this morning was so twisted. We shall never speak of it again.

Hmm.  Must add cleaning out this fridge to the ‘to do’ list. Nothing in here appeals. Oh, wait - sausages. They smell good. I’ll just toss one of those pink little devils in my mouth ... that was great! Can’t imagine why I ever bothered to cook ‘em. They slide right down. Rats, there was only a dozen. Still, that feels better.

I need some water to chase them, though. Damn, not everything has loosened up - my hands are still really stiff. No matter, I can bop the ‘cold’ tap open. Nuts, look at my hairy arms. I’m definitely going to have to find that razor, later. There. Why dirty a glass? I can put my head under the faucet and lap up my fill. Oh, hey, there’s Fritz, mooching around the azaleas. I forgot to close the gate between our yards.

Shit! Just the sight of that handsome beast is making my pussy wet. No! Not again. That was just some sort of a fluke. But - I still have to go out and put some food down for him. Ha! Heard me push open the screen door, did you?  I see you like me! Well, you should, shouldn’t you? Shoot, now I’m wagging back. Must play it cool!

“Down off the deck, big guy. And you can stop with the circling and sniffing. No. No way. Forget it, buster. Don’t even think it. Not a chance. Well, okay, just this once more.”

Okay, Val, just crouch down and present your ass. Who will ever know?

Enough with the licking. I’m ready, already. Get down to business. That’s it, climb aboard and drive that wonderful cock of yours deep into my vitals. Yes! Oh, God, this time is even better than the last. Before, it sort of happened to me, but now I want it … need it! That’s it … pump away. Here, I’ll push my backside up to help. Ooh yeah … I can feel that beastie-cock growing. I‘m almost there already!

I must be comfortably stretched down below … you drove that knot into me with no problem. Right. Now it’s my turn … feel my pussy clamp down on you? Ha! No way are you going anywhere for a while!

That’s it! Yes! Pump another flood of your doggy cum into me! Mmmmm! I can feel that same warm sensation spread right through me … it’s even stronger than when we fucked this morning. Hang on … here I come … gangbusters! Must stifle my howling scream with the corner of this towel!

It feels sooo good … I’ll just hunker here and pant for a while … and let my pussy do the work. Fuck! These rippling clenches … mmm … I think I’m still … coming!

“Oh! Oh! Oh!”

It just keeps on … oh, yeah … that stuff about … mmmm … multiple orgasms … wasn’t bullshit … after all … Yes! Yes! … Hey! … Sure … turn yourself around … again … like butt-to-butt is so … romantic … it doesn’t matter … I’ll just stand here … and milk your hot tool!

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Whew. I think I’m settling down, finally. I can still feel the pressure of all your jism-balm inside me, Fritz … it’s kinda comforting. I bet our being locked together like this is like putting a cork in a bottle …  nature’s way of making sure your seed reaches my womb first. As long as you’re still stuck in there, nobody else can fuck me. Like the Rottweiler across the road … who’d definitely do me if he could, and is probably hung like a race horse …  or that big Labrador, Max, next to the corner store, who always runs out to greet me … I bet he could fuck me silly, or Miss Norton’s sexy Dalmatian … but of course the joke is on you all because I’m a girl, not a dog. Although, now that I think of it, I dimly recall having bigger tits … and fewer of ‘em. Whatever.

Oof. There you go, Fritz, you’re free … for now! You do like to lie under that tree, don’t you? Shit … my hips are way too stiff to stand upright. Must be from having spent all that time bent over. Hey! That cum-soaked cock of yours is still sticking out. So that’s what it looks like. Here … let me help you lick it clean. I’ll just get over there using my hands and feet … well, okay, fingertips and toes then … give me some room to sprawl on my belly, here, so's I can help you tidy up that tool. Mmm … tasty work.  That leftover cum is warming my mouth … the same odd way that it warms my pussy.

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Okay, Fritzie, you're all done. Time for a stretch, myself. I’ll just turn around in a circle a few times … there. Ooh, itchy ear. I can just reach it with my back foot. That’s better. Now to get down to business and take care of my own hygiene.  Just need to sit down on my haunches … and a bit of a twist … there, got my snout into my crotch. That pup must have fired a ton of sperm into me, ‘cause there’s sure lots leaking back out onto my fur and down the inside my legs. Tastes fine, though.

Good - all cleaned and groomed down there. I’ll just nibble that burr off my hock.  Oops, watch the teeth. I wonder? I bet I could slip a good length of tongue inside my pussy to score a few more drops of cum. Oh, yeah! Why haven’t I ever tried that before?

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Well, that was nice! I’ll just scrub my whiskers with a forepaw … and finish up by licking my nose clean. Funny, though. Even sitting here in the warm afterglow of sex, I can’t get over the notion that something is not quite right.

I know.  Lunch time. That’s it. Come on, Fritz, let’s check out the shed by your kennel, where your kibble bin is ... the door’s open and the lid’s off.  I was sorta in a rush, before. Right, we’ll both jump up and put all our weight on the top edge … like this. See? Over goes the bin.

Hey! Give me a little room here - it’s been quite a while since those breakfast sausages.

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That’s better. Lead on, and we’ll score a nap under your favourite tree ... right here. No … maybe like this. Well, how about with my head on your butt? Crap. Sorry, Fritzie, I’m too restless to sleep, just yet. I gotta check out your yard. It goes all the way down to the creek at the back. There’s a lotta smells out here I never noticed before. Hmm … that one was a message. And this one, too: ‘Fritz was here’. Seeing as we’re dating now, I think I’m entitled to add a little pee-mail of my own … there. Val was here, too.

There's a bunch of other smells out here, too. I’ll just check out the ravine. Whoa! I had no idea there was all this good stuff down … SQUIRREL! SQUIRREL!

Shit! How’d you get up there so fast? Oh. I seem to be standing upright again, sort of, with my front paws on the trunk of this big maple. It isn’t actually very comfortable. Fine. Stay up there, you chittering little bugger. I’m going back up to where Fritz is still laying in the shade.

Come on, Fritz … let’s play! A tail nip should do the trick … tag, you’re it! That’s the way … catch me if you can … wait! I gotta chase my tail for a bit ... it just seems to need doing. Anyway, all this rolling around is helping me clean off the last of the long hair I’ve been shedding. Which is good, because I wouldn’t have wanted to vacuum all that lot out of the rug.

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Thirsty now! Back to the creek. Hey! You’re making it all muddy ... oh, well - it'll do.

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Tired at last! Let’s curl up together for a serious nap in the shade.

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Mff. That was nice, but now I’m wide-awake. Fritz is still snoring. Looks like it’s late afternoon. And I’m restless again. I still have the nagging feeling that something is out of kilter in some way. Think I’ll wander back to my cottage.

The kitchen door is still open. I’m a bit hungry, but there’s nothing left in the fridge, as I recall - just vegetables and yoghurt. Check out the living room? Nah. Nothing’s ever on TV on a Saturday, and I don’t feel like driving to the movie rental shop, so that’s off, too. I could head for the bedroom, but I’m all slept out. Close, though. So, what am I? I’m one horny bitch, that’s what! Time to go wake Fritz.

Crap! The kitchen door swung shut behind me on the way out. I used the key from under the doormat back on Thursday, and it’s still on the kitchen counter. Fat lot of good it does me there. On the other hand, Fritz’s pad actually looked kind of comfortable. I could bunk in with him. After supper and another fuck, of course.

Actually, I think I’ll go for the fuck first. Ha! How about a nip on the nose, sleepyhead? See you in the front yard. Check me out, all coy and hard to get! It never hurts to flirt. Is that dope coming or not? Oh well, time out - full bladder, here. I’ll just squat under this rosebush.

“You’re not Fritz!”

Is that…? It is, wassisname, Chris, from across the road. Stunning observation, Einstein. Now fuck off! I’m trying to pee here.

“New Shepherd?”

What? Oh, you’re talking to Doc. Hey! When did he get home? It’s still only Saturday.

“Hello, Chris. This is, um, Sally.”

It’s me - Val! Surely you guys can tell?

“Looks like a smart one.”

Smarter than you, Chris!

“Chris, you've got no idea. I just acquired Sally this morning, to breed with Fritz.”

Huh? What that’s supposed to mean? Oh, shit, here comes Fritz. Looks like he’s keen to accept my invitation, too. Wait. Put that pecker away. Something weird has come up! No, Fritz, don’t lick me back there …

I don’t particularly want to fuck in front of these guys … on the other hand I’m hugely hot to get more of your fine cum inside me. So that’s settled, then. Go for it, Fritz! Fuck me now! That’s it, climb aboard and drive your wonderful cock back in there! Oh, yeah! Look, Chris! He’s doing me better than you probably could, you asshole. And Doc. What are you doing back home, anyway?

Oh my God, there’s that fat knot inside me … I’m locked to my stud again … Fuck! … I’m gonna lose it … I can feel my eyes rolling back in my head … and my tongue’s lolling out … Crap, I’m drooling! … Here it comes …

“Ahhh…Wooooooo!”

Yes! More doggy elixir ... pumping into my already flooded pussy… I can feel my belly stretching … to take it all!

“Wow!”

Liked that, did you, Chris? … Check out my pussy… going to work … milking the seed … out of Fritz’s fine cock!

“Hm, yes. They’ve been copulating like that all day.”

And just how … would you know, Doc?

“Great. Put me down for one of her puppies.”

Puppies? Puppies? … Oh, shit yeah … gonna come again …

“Wooo…Oooo … oooooo!”

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Mmmm. Floating … kinda dazed … my pussy’s still massaging Fritz’s tool. Musta zoned out, there. Chris’s gone, but there’s the Doc, leaning against the front gate. He’s smiling at us like he knows something we don’t. Fuck him.

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That was verrry nice. I see the Doc’s gone back inside. Okay, Fritz, let’s clean up … yummmm!

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Hungry! Let’s check out the mother lode of kibble, out by the kennel … hey, Fritz where you going? The Doc’s backdoor is closed … Whoa! A doggy door? How come nobody mentioned a doggie door? Wait for me! Oh, sure, you’re already nose-deep into a dish of tinned glop. Oh … hi, Doctor. Is that bowl-full for me?

“Sit!”

Well, sure, don’t mind if I do. That stuff smells so wonderful, my tail is wagging up a storm.

“Good girl!”

That’s what I’ve been telling you, Doctor. Set that bowl down … oh, yeah … it tastes even better than it smells.

“Had an interesting day then, Val?”

Let me get these last meaty motes off of my muzzle ... that was lovely. Now … where are you hiding, Sir? Oh, there you are, behind me. Damn straight it was an interesting day!

“Ah! So there’s a spark of Valerie still in there. I can see it in your eyes. Just as I predicted. Marvellous!”

Huh? What are you on about? And why are you looking at me like that?

“I told you I’d find you a mate, didn’t I, Fritz? Ha! My semen-vectored viral transmogrification therapy works! And even more quickly than I expected! Wait until they see the real-time video. They won’t be laughing, then! Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha … er, harrumph. Excuse me.”  

No problem, Doctor … you put on a good spread. What are you getting now? More glop for dessert?

“Here you go, Sally.”

Sally, again. Well, you can call me anything you like, except late for dinner.  Hello –  a rhinestone-studded leather collar. Sparkly! Ooh – and it has a shiny brass tag.

“I took the liberty of buying these gifts for you – to give to my new Weibchen. See – it has your name on it.”

A rhinestone choker is not the sort of thing I usually wear. On the other hand, it looks like it might just suit me … and it was awfully sweet of you to pick it out, Sir. For some reason, I simply can’t help liking a guy who serves such good food.

“Allow me to fasten it around your neck … and secure the leash that goes with it. I see you approve.”

It’s pretty obvious … I’m wagging so hard my backside is rocking. Thank you, Master!

“Now, the big question is, how intelligent will your puppies be, eh girl? Just think what the military will pay us to create a super-intelligent canine squad.”

Puppies? Right – good idea, Master. I really ought to get on with making babies, then. Come on, Fritzie! Give me some more of that bone-juice of yours!

“Well, well. I do believe you may be permanently in heat. I must build a higher fence.”

Whatever. Unclip this leash and let me at Fritz. Yes!

“Go and have fun now, you two. I have to place a fresh ‘house for rent’ advertisement in the newspaper, now that Sally will be moving in with us. Perhaps we shall all have another nice young friend, soon."

The Dogsitter - Part 2

She woke to find herself lying naked on a mat. Blinking her eyes against the bright morning sun, she tried to clear away the cobwebs of a dream that seemed to involve chasing bunnies. The sunshine held no warmth, yet. She felt both groggy and cold - her skin was all goose-bumpy and her nipples were stiff.

The last time this had happened, she’d found herself next to her future ex-boyfriend, Charlie. At the time, he’d been quite excited, and had told her it was his first close call with a coyote fuck. He’d had to explain himself, of course – about how he’d risked having to gnaw his own arm off rather than wake whomever he’d found himself next to in the clear light of day. Luckily for him, he’d added, she was super-sexy. What a goof, she thought now. Why she’d put up with him for so long, she couldn’t imagine.

Well, he’d been her first, too. First fuck, coyote or otherwise. Now, as she gradually registered her mat-mate’s hairy back pressing against her spine, she wondered if it was time for her to start chewing.

Wait – hairy back? Her eyes snapped open wide, and she found she was facing at a chain-link fence. That focused her mind enormously, and she suddenly recognized her location – inside Doctor Werner’s dog kennel.

Abruptly, she rolled to her feet. Too fast: she staggered a little, the dizzying sparks in her vision briefly obscuring her view of the Doctor’s sleeping German shepherd, Fritz.

What the fuck? How did I get in here? She saw she couldn’t easily climb out – even if she hadn’t been in the buff – so, embarrassing as it was, she would have to get some help somehow.

“Doc – hey, Doc.” It came out a raspy whisper, the first time, but she managed better the next. “Doc – HEY, DOC! Get me outa here!”

She waited, then yelled again, and was rewarded by the startled face of her landlord peeking out of a back window. He immediately disappeared for a longish time – long enough that she yelled again.

This time, a young woman’s face appeared at a window of the house that was, from her present point of view, just next door. Who the fuck is in my bedroom? Before she could call out to the intruder, Werner himself appeared carrying a black satchel.

“This really is most unexpected,” the man muttered, in a slightly accusatory manner. “It doesn’t follow from my theory at all, unless …”

She tried to cover herself, a flustered Venus with an arm across her chest and her opposite hand over her sex. “I don’t understand how I got here, honest to God …” She was close to tears.

“And quite lucid. Extraordinary.” He reached into his bag, but instead of a key, he extracted a sizable handgun, which he pointed at her.

She managed to gasp out “Wait …” before he shot her.

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She woke to find herself lying naked on a bare mattress, feeling groggy and cold. The last time anything like this had happened … her eyes shot open.

She was now in a small, windowless room. It didn’t take long to take stock. The dimly lit space contained little save her, the disreputable mattress, and a bucket by the door. Also - most surprisingly - another unclothed girl who was huddled in a corner. There was also a quantity of chain, which she didn’t count as a plus because each of them had one ankle zap-strapped to her own ten foot length of the stuff, which was in turn bolted to a sturdy looking drainpipe. Both were thereby crudely but effectively secured.

She was reasonably sure her fellow captive, a redhead, was the girl she’d seen in her bedroom window - although the pretty face that had looked surprised back then now appeared seriously dazed and confused.

Fair enough. So was she. First things first, though. She climbed to her feet and made her clanking way, slightly bow legged, to the bucket. Having peed, she returned to sit where she’d first woken. No longer distracted by her bladder she studied her new companion, who has now returning her stare.

Oddly, the first thing she noticed was that the girl was nearly the same size as herself – which is to say, rather small. Charlie used to say he liked to set her down on his cock and give her a spin. She liked it, too, but she’d never said as much to all her friends. Asshole.

She shook her head. She was here because she’d left Charlie – which was his fault, but still. Presently she seemed to be in deep shit. After a long minute, she said, “The Doctor - he shot me.”

“Yeah,” said the trespasser. “It was one of them tranquilizer guns. You dropped just like in the movies. I musta gasped, ‘cause he turned around and spotted me. I didn’t know what to do … He seemed like such a nice old man.”

Like a father - no, more than that. Why ... “He shot me.”

“Yeah, well. With a dart gun. Get over it. Anyway, I ran to the front door …”

“But the lock sticks.”

“Right – how’d you know? Anyway, by the time I got to the back door, there he was, with that gun. He marched me here …”

“Where’s here?”

“His basement. He left me in here for a while, and then he came back, still with the gun. He told me to lose the bathrobe and get on my hands and knees. I figured he was planning to rape me - and if he darted me he could obviously do whatever he liked. But if I did what he asked, well, maybe when he got closer I could fight him off. I took one of those self-defence courses once, right? So I got down, but then that big Alsatian of his comes bounding in and jumps on my back. I tried to shake the thing off, but he’s a monster, and he was already poking me with his wang. Before I knew it, he was inside me …”

The girl paused and shuddered, then tried to continue her story. “After a while his cock started to grow – I thought I was gonna burst. And then he came, but he was still stuck inside me …” Another long pause. “The thing is, up ‘till then I’d been scared silly, but …”

“But then it felt really nice.” Her cellmate’s story had been making her unaccountably hot. She had no idea why she’d finished the girl’s sentence in such a twisted way … but she knew she was right.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” She had to cross her legs, loose leg over chained one, to hide the fact that she was leaking as she thought about Fritz. “My name is …” This should be an easy one. “Um, my name is … Sally.” Yeah. That’s it.

“I know. It, uh, it says so on your collar.”

“Oh. Right.”

“I’m Sandra.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Yet another long pause. Sandra’s look of confusion had now changed to something approaching desperation. “I feel so restless.”

“You mean horny.”

“Yeah. That.” She shivered visibly, and then said, “It’s cold in here, isn’t it?”

“It is,” agreed Sally, although it wasn’t, particularly.

Sandra crawled onto the mattress, dragging her chain until she was within cuddling range. Once there, she was surprised to discover something concerning Sally’s breasts that she had missed from across the room, given the dim light. They were remarkable not for quality (although they were, she thought, quite nice), but for quantity. Immediately below a lovely pert set, which were mounted in the usual location, were to be found a second pair, slightly smaller; and below those, on Sally’s belly, were yet another pair, smaller still. Finally, just above her pubis, were two more nipples, each mounted on its own barely discernible puffy rise of flesh.

Each brace of boobies was mounted closer together than the duo above, forming an open V pointing towards the pussy still hidden between crossed legs. The array reminded Sandra of a collected set of her own breasts, displaying how she’d expanded through puberty. “Can I touch one?”

“Of course.”

Sandra tugged gently on the second nipple up, on the left. It responded by protruding even more than it already had been, and both Sandra’s own did the same in sympathy. She couldn’t remember ever having been so aroused.

Trembling, she shifted herself until her body lay tight against that of her cell mate. Gazing at Sally’s ever-so-slightly pointed ears, her short thick hair, and her somewhat oversized canine teeth – to say nothing of the way, earlier, she’d successfully licked her nethers clean after peeing in the bucket– Sandra said, “I think maybe I scratched you behind the ears last week, when I first arrived.”

Sally whispered, “I think you might have. And I think I licked your face. Can I do it again?”

At some point in the subsequent proceedings, Sandra discovered, to her delight, another of Sally’s attributes, as the girl’s doggy tongue plunged deep into her pussy. She was much too excited to notice anything odd about being able to lick excess juices from her own nose (which was just within range of Sally’s squirting girl-cum). Nor did she pay any attention to the circular pink ‘bug bites’ that had symmetrically appeared on her ribs and belly, and which gradually began to swell and grow as the day wore on … at the modest expense of her breasts, above, which were becoming correspondingly smaller.

>< >< ><

 When the Doctor came in, late that afternoon, the girls were dozing together in a tangled heap.

“Ah, there you are,” he said - as if they could be anywhere else. “This is most embarrassing. It seems my original theories were slightly off. However, I have re-examined the data, and I am now convinced that I have inadvertently created an equi-modal lycanthrope variant.”

“Say what now?”

“Um. I think he said you’re a werewolf,” said Sandra.

“Very good, my dear. Although the variation I refer to is not precisely based on Canis lupus, but on Canis familiaris. Your new friend is a were-dog, if you like. And my revised calculations suggest that, rather than the canine form manifesting merely during the full moon, it should last fully half the lunar month. For the balance of the month she reverts to the mostly human state you see now.”

“Mostly human?” Sally sounded genuinely confused.

“Indeed. And you,” he continued, to Sandra, “have now been successfully inoculated, as well. I expect your transmogrification to proceed synchronously with Sally’s.”

Sandra didn’t follow past the first bit: “What? Me? Inoculated?”

“Quite so – my method utilizes Fritz as a vector. To grossly oversimplify, he is a transmitter of cellular packets of my unique genetic coding. And of his own, of course,” he added with a chuckle. “Of course, continued boosters should optimize the effect.”

Sandra visibly shook. “Boosters?” Her question had a hopeful quality to it.

The Doctor smiled, and watched as Sandra diddled her own clit with no apparent awareness of the fact. “Excellent! It seems that a secondary prediction of my revised theory can be confirmed. The new amalgam should incorporate the canine oestrus response to greatly amplify the original human female receptiveness.”

“Huh?”

“I’m afraid you are both permanently in heat,” he translated. Then he swept his arm around the room in which the stunned girls sat, and abruptly changed the subject. “This won’t do at all. If you promise to behave, and to stay in the yard, I shall endeavour to attend to your various hungers. Agreed?”

The girls processed this last bit of information, and then Sandra said, “Sure.”

“Yes, sir,” agreed Sally, who had already been largely domesticated.

“Say it, please, meine Weibchen.”

“I promise to behave,” the girls responded, in unison.

“Excellent.” The Doctor conjured a pair of side-cutters from his pocket and clipped the plastic loops binding them to the now seriously tangled chains. Then he disappeared out the door, quickly returning with two cereal bowls of what looked like cold congealed stew. Another trip and two bowls of water joined the others on the floor by the door.

Sally picked up a lump-filled bowl and plunged her face in to eat, while Sandra self-consciously scooped the meaty contents out with her hands. “Not bad,” she said.

Sally just grunted.

After, Sandra licked her bowl and then her fingers; Sally licked her greasy face clean, but missed a few spots, which Sandra felt compelled to lick for her. This grooming session soon got out of hand, and they had already progressed to nibbling one another’s nipples (Sandra having by now developed a full array) when the Doctor returned with a huge young Rottweiler.

“I’m afraid Carl, here, has gotten to be a bit too much for Mrs. Morris, down the street. This afternoon, I told her that my new young tenant has started a new business and would love the opportunity to help her out by exercising her dog, each morning and evening. I assume you, Sally, will be willing to take over this duty for the time being.”

Sally whimpered her agreement.

To Sandra, the Doctor said, “This is for you, my dear. It has your new name inscribed on it. You are now Molly.” He held out a collar similar to the one Sally wore.

Sandra barely heard the Doctor’s words – while he’d been speaking, Sally had assumed the position on the floor right beside her, ass high, and Carl had happily climbed aboard. He’d made a few miss-aimed prods, until she’d guided his probing tool to its well-lubricated target.

And now … now at each of his strokes she was grunting, as he drove the air out of her. And then, each time, as his piston withdrew from her slippery bore, she sucked back her breath with a whistle an octave higher. It was music of Carl’s making: “HUH – hehhh – HUH – hehhh – HUH – hehhh – HUH – hehhh … ”

Just at the moment he was going with allegro agitato, in 2/4 time. It was the most erotic thing Sandra had ever heard.

She glanced at the sparkly collar in her hand – she couldn’t even remember having taken it. Part of her was not quite ready for this development; but the Doctor had said her fate was already sealed, and anyway, done deal or not, the randy part of her wanted Fritz again so badly she could taste him.

“HUH – hehhh – HUH – hehhh – HUH – hehhh – HUH – hehhh … ” continued Sally.

Case closed. “I’m Molly,” she whispered.

“Well done, Molly. I shall go and bring Fritz.”

Molly was left to watch Carl hump Sally. After a while, the Rottie rammed hard and stayed deeply embedded as he pumped his load into his mostly-lady lover. Her nipple-studded belly swelled visibly to accommodate the volume.

There’s a job well done, he evidently thought, as afterward he tried to dismount. He seemed nonplussed that he couldn’t release his tackle – clearly he was new at this game. After a moment of confusion, he elected to hop sideways off her back. He finished up standing awkwardly with his front end alongside her and his cock still engaged. He made another attempt to pull clear, but Sally braced herself, dropping her chest onto the ground and growling.

At this juncture (so to speak), Carl affected an attitude that suggested that, while he wouldn’t ordinarily leave his cock in a vice, under the circumstances he chose to tolerate the imposition.

Molly, on the other hand, was not quite so laid back. Still waiting for Fritz, she’d put on her collar and was passing the time by churning three fingers inside herself.

“You gotta come over here, if you want some help with that,” Sally laughed, once her orgasms had eased their grip on her senses. “I’m kinda nailed to the spot.”

Molly wasted no time pivoting her bum around and spreading her legs wide to present her leaking pussy to her friend.

“That’s better,” said Sally, and she began to drive her remarkable tongue deep into her friend, lapping out the juicy goodness within.

Molly came immediately, and had come twice more by the time the door opened to admit Fritz. Even so, the sound (and scent) of his arrival jolted her into action, and she performed an elaborate tuck and roll to present him with her backside.

She gasped as his weight landed on her back and his forelegs clasped her sides; and gasped again as Fritz, being more experienced than Carl in coitus both canine and human, drove home in one smooth manoeuvre.

He filled her deeply and completely, with a comfortably even stretch that she knew was absolutely the best sensation she’d ever experienced. Her body, she decided, was tailor-made to receive him – which, thanks to the Doctor’s formula, was precisely the case.

She was soon gasping out time to Fritz’s own cunnie concerto, beginning with a slightly slower tempo – he seemed to enjoy a longer, more varied melody. Indeed, Molly’s occasional squeaks and yips, and the rhythmic sound of her chest smacking the floor, testified to his virtuosity. 

In the event, Fritz had docked tightly and come before Sally had yet released Carl. Although the girls were both now tied to their mates, they were near enough to one another that Sally could nuzzle cheeks with the still-ecstatic Molly. She smiled as she licked the drool from the vacantly staring girl’s chin.

Sometime later, the Doctor collected the dogs. “Gute Nacht, meine kleinen Welpen,” he murmured as he closed the door.

>< >< ><

Next morning, the girls woke in each other’s arms. Sally looked at her new friend’s sticky, dishevelled appearance – the girl’s long hair had fallen out in the night and now stuck to them both in clumps - and smiled. “Well, you look like you’ve been rode hard and put to bed wet.”

“You look pretty rough, yerself,” Molly answered with a laugh. She tilted her newly fur-topped head at the distant sound of a can opener. “Sounds like breakfast.”

“Great! I could eat a horse!”

“I’m not sure we’re not – I haven’t figured out what’s in that stew.”

“Chunky beef, actually. I remember reading the tin.”

Molly considered that. “Right … What else, exactly, do you remember?”

Sally reviewed her still fragmented memories of the past few weeks. Largely, they touched on the high points: chasing squirrels, bunnies, and birds - eating Alpo - doing tricks to please her master - and romping around the yard with Fritz. Plus, of course, she distinctly recalled Fritz fucking the daylights out of her.

Before she had emerged from her reverie and got around to answering Molly, the Doctor showed up.

“Good morning, Weibchen. Breakfast time.” Observing their ragged condition, he added, “Your bathroom privileges shall commence immediately – second door on your right, down the hall.”

After their morning feed of stew, they hustled to the bathroom in question. Molly won the race to the toilet, but Sally simply shrugged and stepped into the adjacent shower stall. Once there, she took hold of the curtainless curtain rod in one hand, then bent and lifted her opposite leg, whereupon she proceeded to wizz against the inside wall.

Having finished up, herself, Molly reached for toilet paper, and, finding none, bent forward to lick away the last drops of urine.

“Don’t need to do that, silly,” said Sally. “Just join me for a shower.”

They were still there, happily lathering each other, when the Doctor returned. “I have brought you some blankets, and also Molly’s clothing. Your effects, Sally, I am afraid have already been disposed of. Nevertheless, you are both the same size – Alsatian-sized, to be exact, mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-h-ha ... ahem. You can share, I am sure. You must wear something when you go outside, so as not to alarm the neighbours. Oh, and wear scarves over your collars, as well. “

Eager to get out into the sun, they finished up in the shower, and quickly towelled each other dry. They then picked through the box of clothes, both of them tossing the jeans and underwear aside as being restrictive – and, in the case of the bras, somewhat pointless. Molly picked out a blouse and short skirt, while Sally settled on a tube-top that only served to highlight her octet of nipples, which pressed against the tight fabric.

The Doctor was pruning his roses when they emerged out the basement doorway. “Hmm, yes. Sally, the scarf is fine, but I believe some sort of skirt would be in order. However, Carl is already here for you to exercise, so for now, you may take care of him down in the back ravine, out of the view of Miss Norton. No need to upset her unduly.”

“Thank you, sir.”

 As she hurried off to retrieve the dog out of the pen, the Doctor called after her, “I believe I shall expand your exercise business to service more of the neighbourhood – you could probably fit Mr. Wilson’s Labrador, and Miss Norton’s Dalmatian, into your, ahh, agenda.”

“So that’s what yer calling it,” sniped Molly.

“As for your duties, Molly, you must confine yourself to Fritz’s company for the time being, until I have ascertained that you’ve been impregnated. Until then, I can’t risk one of my first breeders being serviced by just any dog. Understand?”

Actually, the whole ‘fuck the dog and sell the puppies’ concept had got past Molly up until this point. However, the notion of spending more time under Fritz was the one that loomed largest in her mind just then.

“Not that there is much risk,” the Doctor continued. “Fritz is remarkably fertile. Incidentally – and I’m quite excited about this - seven weeks from now, Sally will whelp whilst in her canine form. But you, my dear, will have cycled around to your present state for your birthing. I shall film that groundbreaking event, as well, for posterity.”

Sandra had been quite shy, and would undoubtedly have focused on the ‘as well’ bit near the end. As well as, say, filming all the shagging steps along the way? Using creepy hidden cameras everywhere, sort of thing? Having become Molly, however, she said, “Yeah. Cool. Puppies. So bring on Fritz!”

The Fountain

Amanda had kept a low profile at her last school, but regardless the other kids soon learned to keep well clear of her. When she transferred to Warren G. Harding High, she discovered she needed to be a little more obvious to get the rabble to back off, and so had taken on her current persona: Crazy Goth Girl with a Touch of Steampunk. Her usual attire now consisted of tall black leather boots and a short black velvet skirt, plus a stiff black tooled-leather bustiere and a black chain-mail throat guard (both the latter being secured at the back by black satin ribbon). This was topped by a ridiculously small top hat which was pinned to her tightly bunned black hair. Even her purse and lipstick were black, while her exposed skin - knees, belly, shoulders and face - were seriously pale. The only color was the heavy crimson blush on her high cheekbones and a glittering ruby stud in her navel.

This costume had proved quite effective in proclaiming 'Stay Away' - not least because, although it totally flaunted Warren's dress code, there were no observed official repercussions. That is to say, it warned off everyone but Laverna Hobbs and her three hangers-on, who seemed to always be looking for ways to annoy her. They dressed like cheerleaders - or vapid whores, if you asked Amanda. This was slightly unfair given that, unlike her, they adhered to school policy (albeit just barely ... so to speak). And technically it was not the fault of Brandi, Crystal, and Roxy that they were encumbered with stripper's names.

At any rate, the harassment continued until early one Saturday morning when the stakes went up: Amanda felt a sudden urge to hike over to the disreputable looking old mansion in which Laverna lived. She knew it was a summoning spell, and although she'd suspected that Laverna dabbled in Wicca, she hadn't imagined her wielding anything like that kind of power. Maybe, she thought, all four girls together had somehow managed it. She told herself she could resist, that she was just going to go there to see what was what ... and yet as soon as she got dressed, she set off. It made her cross.

>< >< ><

When she got there, the compulsion became quite specific - she found herself walking down a lane beside the Hobbs estate, to a solid wooden gate that was set into the thick hedge. When the gate opened slowly in front of her, she began to seriously worry about how much power Jenna and her crew possessed. But then a young blond girl peeked out from behind. She was clearly Laverna's sister.

"Hello - you must be Amanda. I'm Abigail. I've been watching out for you. They're all down that path behind me, in the Hidden Garden. Sorry, that sounds so dramatic doesn't it? It's just a quiet little place with a round flagstone terrace, and some daffodils and tulips and stuff. Even the gardener hardly ever goes there. Anyways, they're waiting for you." When Amanda turned toward the trail, the girl called after her, "Hey! I really like the little-black-rosebud lipstick thing."

Amanda walked through a tall jungle of wild roses until it opened up to give her a view of the girls. They were all wearing beautiful diaphanous gowns, and dancing gracefully in a circle. She stopped, and squinted. Then she looked away so she could just see them from the corner of her eye. It was as she guessed - they'd been cloaked by a glamour. In reality, they were stark naked. They beckoned to her, and she stepped forward into the circle. The four girls continued their dance around her.

Laverna smiled, rather smugly, as she skipped along. "I suppose you're wondering why we called you here."

"Yes, actually."

"We thought you might want to join us. But first, we need you to perform a little task. Sort of an initiation, like." Titters ran around the ring from the others, which somewhat undermined the sincerity of their leader's words. "First, strip for us," Laverna commanded.

Amanda did, tossing aside her grim ensemble a piece at a time to form a pile outside the circle. Her hat went last, along with its stiletto hatpin. She shook out her long hair and stood erect - she was justifiably proud of her body - with her legs slightly spread, so that her second ruby stud could clearly be seen. As the girls gyrated around her, she stared at each in turn. Abruptly, they stopped, and Amanda immediately felt a warmth building up in her clitoris. She looked quickly around to lock eyes with the weak link - Brandi.

Brandi began to fidget, and one hand dropped down to her own clit. To the girl's alarm, she found she found that she couldn't move. She also noticed that everyone else seemed to be growing taller, and odd sensations were reporting in from all over her body. She realized with horror that she was shrinking ... but not to become a mini-Brandi. She was also changing. Her glossy red hair quickly fell out, and then her arms seemed to simply melt away, as did her legs. Excepting her feet, which were soon attached directly to her dwindling butt cheeks. Her once proud tits flattened out and her wide hips evaporated until she'd become seriously shapeless … and still she shrank until she was reduced to a boneless torso not much thicker than her neck had been. Her mind whirled. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Finally, the loose extra skin which was draped around her neck began to tighten and roll upwards until it had swallowed her head.

She knew that what was happening to her was also affecting her mind - now in the dark, her terror was fading, and her strongest desire was to be touched. She also knew what she had become, because it was the fate that had been intended for Amanda: she was now an eighteen-inch tall cock. More exactly, a living wang-creature. And because Laverna had thought it would be hilarious, she also retained her plump pussy, which barely cleared the ground between her wrinkled scrotal feet.

When a bemused Crystal leaned down and ran her hands up and down the wang's ropy-veined exterior, the sensation for Brandi was explosive - her entire surface was as sensitive as her clit had once been.

"Look," Crystal said, "She's vibrating!"

"So she is," said Laverna, flashing a wicked smile in spite of herself - she was seriously concerned that the spell had backfired.

"Let's see how she's doing in there," said Amanda. "Crystal - pull down her foreskin."

Crystal obeyed, placing her hands up where Brandi's ears should have been, and beginning to slip-slide the hot flesh up and down. It was hardly necessary - Brandi was so excited that she grew taller and thicker. As she did, the skin over her head retracted - redeployed to do tightly-stretched service over her expanding phallic body. They could now see how much she had changed in there ... her face had shifted to the top of her head, and all that was left of it was a pair of blinking eyes, one on either side of a slit mouth. What one might as well call her cheeks were still freckled.

"Yo, Brandi! How you feeling?"

A quantity of precum drooled out of her slit, followed by a pink tongue which tried to gather it all back. A slightly garbled voice then emerged: "Fantastic!"

"Great! We're gonna get you laid. Who wants to go first?" Amanda asked, looking directly at Roxy.

"I want her to fuck me," Roxy said in a monotone, although her frightened expression said otherwise. Without further prompting, she stepped over top of Brandi, her legs spread wide.

"Not so fast - don't you think she's a little too big for you? Let me help you with that." Amanda made a few hand passes over Roxy from head to toe. "There. Now try."

Roxy lowered herself so as to set Brandi's blunt new knob-face up against her moist pussy. Pushing down gently, she gasped; then she reached down to take hold of her suddenly rubbery labia, pulling her lips wide to accommodate Brandi's head. She continued to whimper as Brandi-the-Wang slid deeper inside her, stretching her pelvis and expanding her belly as though she were pregnant. Then her knees gave way, forcing Brandi's bulk to plunge right up into her chest. She finished up sitting, with her legs spread on the ground and Brandi's feet just visible underneath her. There was a log-like lump following Brandi's path right up between Roxy's tits to the base of her neck.

"Wow," said Crystal, loudly enough to be heard over Roxy's moans. "That is so cool!"

It was then that Brandi reached her limit, and began to ejaculate. Roxy's moans turned to gurgles, and then a great gush of cum spurted out of her mouth.

"How'd you do that?" asked Crystal.

"Duh! Magic," said Amanda. "Obviously. I had to make room for Brandi in there somehow. Roxy's pussy is connected straight to her mouth, now. Suits her, doesn't it?"

Roxy continued to imitate a fountain.

"I didn't know Brandi had it in her," giggled Laverna nervously, as the jism arced gracefully out to flow down Roxy's tits.

"Who slept through theory, then?" said Amanda, "Technically, most of the stuff that was Brandi is now in another dimension. We're just drawing it back and draining some off." To be precise, it seemed to be arriving in Brandi's bulbous feet, which were rhythmically squeezing to pump the stuff up through her.

"Um. Wouldn't she run out eventually, then?"

"Oh, sure, but …" Here she abruptly tipped Roxy onto her back, so that the milky spray burbled straight up before landing in a pool centered around Roxy's head. "See? We can push a garden hose in here and recharge her." She pointed at Brandi's inviting pussy mounted between those busy feet, which in turn improbably stretched Roxy's sex. "Or you could do it," she added, to Crystal.

Crystal, who had been edging away, jumped guiltily. "Huh?" But then her eyes grew large and she looked down in alarm. Her clit had begun to grow. Within moments it was as fat as a normal cock, but it had already surpassed any normal cock's length. In spite of herself, the terrified girl reached down to explore her new organ. Soon it projected a throbbing twenty inches out from above her shaved pussy.

"Right," said Amanda, "now that's a lovely hose. Just thread that trouser snake into Brandi, here, and pump in some fresh cum."

Crystal obeyed immediately - in fact, her new cock led the way, plunging deep into Brandi's cunt of its own accord before Crystal had fully knelt into position. She groaned at the unfamiliar sensations, and Brandi redoubled her tremors at the swollen intrusion, which caused Roxy's spluttering moans to increase as well.

Amanda addressed the now seriously alarmed Laverna. "You're thinking that now Crystal is going to run out of cum, right? Good point. Here's what we're gonna do." She made yet another pass of her hands.

"No," pleaded Laverna, but already she could see her breasts growing plumper by the second. As they expanded, her nipples changed, becoming long and fat - and most cow-like.

"Step right over top, and face Crystal - that's it. Now pop one of those lovely fat teats into her mouth. Don't worry. She's got no teeth anymore."

Crystal sucked the offered nipple deep into the back of her throat and began to suck. The milky flow quickly became a torrent, but Crystal simply relaxed her throat and let it pour through herself.

"Great! So now you just need to sit on Roxy's face."

The girl did, and closed the loop. Roxy's cum fountain was now directed into Laverna's pussy, and joined her milk to flow from her tit into Crystal's mouth, then out through Crystal's long new cock - a pulsating eight inches worth or so of which could be seen before it plunged into the quivering Brandi.  The flow continued through Brandi and Roxy until it launched from the latter's mouth back into Laverna.

Amanda admired her handiwork, and then said, "Laverna - your left teat is drizzling. That gives me an idea." She rolled out a nearby garden hose, shoved it up Crystal's ass, and cracked open the valve. With the added pressure in the system, Laverna's drizzle became a spray ... and Crystal and Roxy's breasts began to launch thick jets of water as well. "How ya feeling?"

Only Laverna's mouth was not otherwise engaged. She answered, "Oh my God! It feels so good!" Her voice was a gargle - water surged up her throat when she spoke. She tipped her head back and cried out in pleasure through a splashing torrent. "So gggooogh!" she burbled.

"Glad to hear it," said Amanda. "Okay - nearly done. Crystal - hold onto Roxy's little tits. Don't block the spray - that's it. Roxy, I see you've got a good grip on Laverna's bum. Now Laverna, brush Crystal's cheek with your right hand and use the other to aim your free udder just a bit further outboard. Excellent! Hold it ... there! You're all fused together now." A number of errant leaks suddenly stopped. With yet another wave of her hand, the hose sprouted scales and otherwise came to look like an anaconda, although its snaky head was hidden from view inside Crystal. At the same time the ground gathered up beneath them to create a low platform, surrounded by a moat which quickly began to fill from the multiple streams of liquid.

She tilted her own head to one side to admire her handiwork. "Wouldn't want you guys to burn in the sun, or get all weather beaten and stuff. Well, Brandi, obviously you don't have to worry about that. But nobody would know you guys were having a good time if I turn you into stone. How's about this?" One more wave and the girls' skins began to take on a black sheen. "There. You look good in rubber - fetish works for you. But not so much for statues." A snap of the fingers, this time, and they were still basically vulcanized, but now with a green bronze-patina coloring. They looked like real statuary until you saw the trembling and the small movements - like Crystal's sucking cheeks, and Laverna's head rolling around. "You'll make a lovely garden feature - nearly as good as having a Rodin."

She heard footsteps, and had just enough time for a last hand pass.

From behind her was a little voice. "Hi Amanda! I forgot what a nice old fountain we have down here - all those dolphins and things. Gosh, where have the other girls gone?"

"Hey, kid. You just missed them."

Abigail glanced away from the stately fountain, so that it just caught the corner of her eye, then back. "And how cum you're nekkid?"

"Oh. Yeah." Amanda had forgotten she'd shed her clothes. "Umm..."

"It's okay," Abigail said, laughing. "I'm just fucking with you. That Laverna can certainly be a cow sometimes - the teat thing suits her.  Nice glamour, by the way. They looked just like one of my favorite fountains - which, to be honest, is nearly as rude as this one. It does have dolphins, though." She walked around the spouting assemblage of glued girls. "You've got some excellent multi-dimensional transformations going on here. Better than a Rodin, to my tastes. Although Auguste was pretty good in the sack," she mused.

"Who are you?"

"Like I said - I'm Abigail. Laverna's mother, actually." She turned a gleeful little spin to loft her violet summer dress. "Sometimes I like to indulge my inner child. So anyway, I asked Laverna to check you out, see what kind of powers you have. I didn't intend for her to try turning you into giant wang. Guess she found out though, huh? About your powers. That was a great reflector spell."

"Um. Right." Now that Abigail had let her, she could feel disturbingly deep power radiating from the bogus waif. "It was you that summoned me, wasn't it? Listen - I'll turn them back for you right away."

"Nah - no rush. Nice touch, the rubber weatherproofing. Wickedness with a heart. I love that we can still faintly hear Laverna squealing. The girls liven this place up, and they certainly seem to be enjoying themselves. They should be happy here for months. At least. Maybe we'll sort them out this fall. Or next."

"And your gardener won't mind?" Amanda twitched a half-smile.

Abigail laughed. "I really do have one, you know. Tommy? He'll be cool with it. Nice guy - likes to play bareback rider with me." Amanda raised her eyebrows at that. "What? I can do a pretty fair fifteen or twenty-year old, too, you know." In half a minute she'd grown and filled out to prove her point, becoming a stunning young woman (and in the process stretching the little sundress to its limits). "When the mood takes me," she added, as she shrank back again. "He thinks we're three different girls. Not counting Laverna and Mrs. Hobbs, of course."

As Amanda processed this new information, it occurred to her that the gardener's views weren't the only outstanding issue. "Won't they be missed?" She nodded toward the girls.

"I'll tell everyone my darling daughter has run away ... again. With her friends, this time. I'm sure you can conjure some reassuring postcards from Arizona, or somewhere. Just something to let the folks back home know about their ongoing adventures in a wilderness free-love commune."

They admired the new fountain together for a time, and then Abigail turned and led them back up the path. "Amanda, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. First off, how's about you show me why you have a focal gem fastened to your pussy."

The Toy Shoppe - A Midwinter’s Tale - Part One

The letter seemed like a lifesaver. It was from my Great-uncle Cyril, and it was the real thing, complete with ornate calligraphy (fancy handwriting for those of you who haven’t got any snail-mail recently). I was thrilled, although I had never even met him. My family considered him a bit of a black sheep; something about running a toy shop - far away, which suited them fine. I couldn’t see an issue with that. In fact when I was little he used to send me similar letters, along with toys and books, for my birthday. In return I’d mail him thank-you cards with a childish summary of my year. I hadn’t heard much from him for years, but now he was asking me if I wanted to come to Victoria to help with the Christmas rush.

Boy, did I ever – anything to get out of the little Kansas town I’d grown up in. It was a snowy mid-November and I’d been working as a waitress at that crummy coffee shop on Commercial Street for over four months. Ever since I graduated, in fact. It had been years since the last time I’d seen Uncle Cyril, so the letter was absolutely out of the blue. It was my ticket out into the wide world. Literally – there was bus and ferry fare tucked into the big envelope.

I was on a Greyhound bound for the Pacific Northwest in no time, with my lap full of maps. Having never been out of the county, even two days on the road didn’t dampen my enthusiasm. By lunchtime on the third day I was getting off of a real ship, suitcase in hand, to explore a genuine foreign city. It was a sunny day (I hadn’t seen any snow since I’d hit the coast), and warm enough that I didn’t even need my coat. God, there were even a few flowers blooming. Uncle’s shop, he’d written, was just off Shanghai Alley, near Chinatown. It had sounded perfectly quaint in the letter, but I got several strange looks when I asked for directions.

Soon I found myself on a quiet street lined with old brick buildings, near the docks. There were few stores, and fewer people. Lost, I approached a woman leaning on a lamppost to ask for directions. On the basis of her pose and her clothing - which consisted of fishnet stockings, a tube top and a wide belt that doubled as her skirt - I suspected that she was what, back home, they would have called a ‘lady of the night’ (Not that I was aware that we actually had any, of course.) And, given the hour, this woman was technically working the day shift.

Whatever, she looked friendly enough, and so I her asked if she knew whether “Ye Olde Toy Shoppe” was nearby. After looking my sensible Midwest wardrobe up and down, she smiled and answered, “Just around that corner – halfway up the street on your left. Hope they’ve got what you’re after.”

I continued on, regretting my choice in travelling clothes. Blue check pinafores and saddle-top shoes didn’t seem to blend in around here. Luckily, back in Seattle I had combed out my pigtails, but still.

The street in question was even quieter than the last – there was no one around at all, now. When a bus came booming around the corner, it nearly scared the life out of me. I was so rattled that the next thing I knew, I was up the road staring down a barely noticeable narrow gap between two brick buildings – Shanghai Alley. Peering into the gloom, I wondered why on earth anybody would put a toy shop, or anything else, down there. Still, I’d been three days getting this far, so I plunged onward.

The alley was really just a footpath, so narrow I could touch both grimy walls at once. After a ways, it widened slightly. There were now tiny shops on both sides, and it was clear I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. Take the tattoo shop to my right, for example. On a stool in the doorway sat the young proprietor. He was reading a book and, shirt off, was advertising his wares: he was covered with dragons and ships and pirates and maidens. Actually, I decided, unless he was amazingly flexible he was advertising for his competitor. (Like when you chose a hair-dresser - you shouldn’t pick the one that looks the best, because you’ll be wanting the gal she used.)

At any rate, this guy was well decorated. Extremely well, actually. What I’d taken for colourful trousers ... weren’t. He reminded me of a circus sideshow I’d seen as a little girl. Except that guy had worn shorts, whereas at close range it was obvious that this one did not. While I had never actually seen a penis before - so bite me, I hadn’t had much of a love life - anyway, I was fairly certain that they did not ordinarily have green scales and bright red eyes. I was shocked, but even so the thought struck me that that must have really, really hurt.

The man glanced up from his book, eye contact was made, and he solemnly winked. I blushed to my toes, and dropped my eyes downward – which only brought his lap back into view. The trouser snake, which was draped across his left thigh, trembled slightly and gently lifted its head as though it, too, planned to give me a wink. Mortified, I tore my eyes away and looked back up. He was already reading his book again, and whistling something that sounded much like 'Follow the Yellow Brick Road'. Right - time to move on. I wished yet again that I had not worn gingham.

With one last peek at his growing green willie, I turned away. Huh, I thought. The first penis I’ve ever seen, and it’s probably the most decorated I maybe ever will see.

Across the way was a full-service hemp shop. Not only coarse brown clothing hung in the window, but the stuff my guidance councillors used to call ‘paraphernalia’, and, to my surprise, the dried herb itself. There were more people around by now, not just the illustrated tattoo guy, but also other folks. Well, they weren’t just folks, exactly. There was an old man on a red unicycle, and some Rasta twins, all bound for the head shop. Plus a head-banging rocker type coming out of a hole-in-the-wall used record store, and some cute navy boys in full shore-leave sailor suits.

I continued on, past a sword-and-sorcery shop, which was kind of interesting. My hometown has three gun stores, but nowhere to buy a throwing axe. Inside, the clerk was dressed like Xena – in spite of being a guy. Next along was a magic shop, with a notice in the window ominously stating: ‘Only Open Dusk to Dawn’. Then the alley turned and narrowed again, so much so I had to press myself sideways against the wall to let a guy get past me. He had an eye-patch and a scar on his cheek, and he looked like a pirate, complete with a big red sash around his waist. He only needed a parrot.

I kept moving - just ahead a red lacquered door was let into the brickwork. This being the last shop along the alley, I stepped inside. No Uncle Cyril here, either. It was a Chinese herbal shop, in what looked like a converted opium den (not to say I’d ever seen one of those, either). The place was all cluttered up with creepy dried things in glass jars, and clay pots sealed with wax and string, and – Jesus, I thought, is that a stuffed alligator hanging from the ceiling?

The signs on the walls were all in Chinese lettering, and I expected a hundred-year-old oriental guy behind the counter, too. There wasn’t. Instead, there was a pretty young girl, about the same age as me – but Chinese, of course. I asked my question.

“The Old Toy Shop?” The girl’s English accent removed the extra letters I’d enunciated. “Oh, yes. It is in a passageway on your left, at the far end of the courtyard.”

So I doubled back, planning to sneak another peek at that tattooed guy’s cock on the way past. No luck with that, on account of there was now a lanky blond girl sitting astride his lap, with her back to his colourful chest and her hands on his knees. She was wearing a tight white bodysuit with a fancy lace collar.

Except, when I got closer, she leaned right back and put an arm behind tattoo-guy’s head – and then I could see from her taut nipples and her belly button that I had been wrong about the bodysuit. The lace collar and cuffs were simply painted on her shockingly pale flesh. Even her areolas only showed as faintly pinkish smudges on her white breasts.

She was squirming around in a way that suggested serious hanky-panky was going on underneath her. The two of them obviously didn’t care who knew about it, either. I joined the sailors to watch in slack-jawed silence. When she noticed me, she looked startled, then tilted her head onto her shoulder and stared at me like she was sizing me up. Geez - I couldn’t imagine why these people thought I stood out. Finally she relaxed and smiled, and slowly lifted her bottom. This served to expose her bald mound and, gradually, the fat green serpent that had been hidden inside of her. It was much bigger than when I had seen it last.

I was clearly in a seriously weird place. These people were doing it right out in the street – well, out in the alley, anyway. Resuming my quest, I turned away and hustled past the mesmerized sailors (OK, I shuffled off after I had taken in a proper eyeful). Only a little further along, in a dark alcove I’d missed, I saw a sign. A sandwich board, actually, which read: “Ye Olde Toy Shoppe - this way”. Underneath, a painted hand pointed down a low-arched side passage. Not far in, this pathway abruptly dropped down a flight of stone steps. There was an eerie reddish glow coming from below. Great. Just great, I thought.

Again, I forced my feet to carry me forward. At the bottom was a brick-walled hall, more a grotto, really, which held exactly one store – a toy store. At last! The cave-like room was warmly lit by a myriad of red and green lights that surrounded the shop’s long, low front window. Like in a Dickens story, the window had those little diamond panes, only with fake snow painted on. I peeked inside.

In some ways, it looked a lot like the Christmas display in the front window of Bill’s Department Store, back home. There were sprigs of plastic holly, billowing drifts of cotton batting snow and a toy train. There were even the little elves hauling ribbon-wrapped presents, although these ones looked suspiciously like painted plaster garden gnomes wearing toques.

On the other hand - where shall I start? You will of course have guessed what kind of toys were in the little wheelbarrows, but it was news to me. Even with the goings-on I had just seen, I still had this fixed idea in my head from when I’d first read dear old Great-Uncle Cyril’s letter – you know, a Santa’s workshop sort of thing. “Gawd!” I blurted. There were piles of stuff, and I didn’t even know what most of it was, but I was blushing on the strength of what I did recognize.

In the middle was a display of phallic objects – dildos, that is – all laid out symmetrically in a big arrowhead pattern: little ones in the middle, then bigger and bigger to the sides, like those Air Force pictures you see of a jet with all its missiles spread on the ground on either side. Some were flesh coloured, both pink and black. Others were green or red or icy crystal or silver (to go with the Christmas theme). The biggest ones definitely looked like rockets.

Over to one side was a collection of less sleek variations on the same theme. These things were still basically dick-like, but they all seemed to sport attachments, or protruding knobs and fingers. They stood propped on their bases, a tiny Stonehenge of twaddlers, surrounded by billows of cotton snow. Framing them were short strings of fat, colourful beads, each string with a big ring on one end. They looked innocent enough, but the company they kept suggested otherwise.

On the other side, an ‘elf’ with a rake stood amongst a mound of colourful lotions and lubricants. Nearby, some boxes were labelled ‘Erector Set’ and others ‘Jessica Rabbit’ – but the pictures on the fronts weren’t near what I expected. Also there was a selection of ‘Barbie’ dolls. Except – they were called ‘Lili’ dolls, nearly the same but distinctly Germanic, and wearing tiny black corsets and fishnet stockings. There were also some life-sized mannequins alongside showing off adult versions of the same thing, plus other clothes made mostly of leather, vinyl, and/or feathers.

And then there was the train that chugged around it all. The locomotive was black, all right, but … it too was shaped like a penis. It circled around and around, and each time it disappeared into a tunnel that was a plaster hill shaped like two spread thighs and … “Gawd!” I repeated.

In one corner watching over everything sat an inflatable girl, wearing only a candy-striped toque and scarf. She was anatomically correct and I suspected she wasn’t just for use in the pool. Curled in her lap was a fluffy tiger-striped kitten, which startled me by stretching and yawning.

A little bell tinkled over the door when I stepped inside. At the back of the shop, a girl stood waiting behind the counter. She looked about my age, and she was shockingly beautiful. I mean, I literally gasped. This girl had the face of an angel, for a start, with big, shining eyes. She was tall and broad shouldered, and she had curves - more Marilyn than Rita, as my dad had said once about a woman at the mall. (I’d had to ask him what he was talking about, and after looking around to make sure my mother was out of sight, he’d told me that those were the names of pin-up girls, back in the olden days – sort of like those screensavers for guys, now. He had meant soft, and voluptuous – although the latter was not a word he ever used in front of me.)

On the other hand, I could tell this girl had muscles, too. Not like she lifted weights, just that she was solid – like those Olympic swimmers on TV. She was lit from behind, and it made her pale skin glow. In contrast, her spiky short-cut hair was glossy black, and her full lips were painted a deep red. She was wearing a red bustiere, tight green hot pants, and black boots that laced up above her knees - all presumably to go with the elf/gnome theme.

And, most particularly, when she came around from behind the counter I saw that she had great folded wings tattooed up her back, across her shoulders and down the backs of her arms. Raven black on her pale skin, they were extraordinary - so detailed that I felt as though I could reach out and touch feathers.

The whole effect was just a little unsettling. A few of the girls back in my old high school had done the Goth thing, but by comparison this girl, even without the attitude, made them look like Anne of Green Gables.

Or Dorothy. “Whoa! Did ya bring Toto?” she exclaimed, and then, without further greeting, she laughed heartily and swept me into her arms. I received a huge hug, like we were long lost friends, and then a kiss full on the mouth. Finally she gave me a chance to catch my breath, and while holding me at arm’s length she did the introductions. “You’ll be Jane, and I’m Joy. Cyril said you’d be here any day now.”

She parked me on an old sofa that sat against the back wall, and then popped out of sight down a back hall. “Your uncle told me all about you,” she called out. “He thought you’d be great for this place.”

Huh?

“You were always his favourite relative.” Emerging back in view, she added, “Isn’t that nice? Here - you must be parched!” She bounced down on the couch beside me and thrust a bottle into my hand. “Drink up!”

Dazzled, I did as I was told. It was water – cool and cleansing. Joy was right. I was thirsty. As I tipped back the bottle, I felt like I had died and gone to heaven.

“I’ve been working here for a couple of weeks now, keeping this place going until you got here. What do you think?” Joy swept a feather-decorated arm around to indicate the shop.

Actually, I had barely noticed anything else besides Joy. Now I focussed on the rest of my surroundings and realized that I was in a space that more resembled a living room than a store. There were shelves of goods, for sure, with more stuff like what I’d seen in the window; plus there was an old fashioned till on the counter. But there was also a second couch like the one I sat on, and some comfy chairs.  They were all covered with plush throws, and set out around a big rag rug. A coffee table in the middle held a pot of just that, plus some books and magazines. A wooden fan spun lazily overhead. The room had a cozy, lived-in look.

“Cyril couldn’t be here, so he asked me to welcome you to his home – your new home. There’s a suite upstairs, and a little kitchen just through there,” Joy said, nodding to the back hall. “Groovy, eh?”

It was nice (although ‘groovy' was not a word I had ever expected to hear in the real world). “Uh, yes,” I agreed, while trying to decide which question to ask first. I went with something easy: “Do you work here?”

“Sure – well, more a sort of faithful customer, like. I’ve just been helping out until you got here.”

I felt a sudden pang at the thought of this lovely creature going away. “Are you leaving, then?”

“Nope, not yet – got to get you settled in, first.” Her smiled widened. “You’re probably beat. Like a massage? I’m pretty good at it.” 

Well, I wasn’t a bit tired anymore, but I was achy. Overwhelmed at the pace of developments, I nodded agreement. “Yes, please.”

“Lay down right here. I’ll get some oil, while you get out of that …” - there was a tiny pause, while Joy apparently suppressed another wise-crack – “dress.” She stood and rummaged through a nearby selection of massage oils.

Meanwhile I began to unbutton my pinafore. In the space of two minutes, I thought, this stranger has me taking my clothes off. What next? I soon found out.

Holding an amber bottle triumphantly, Joy turned and grinned. “Best you take off that bra for this, and I think the panties can go, too. You definitely won’t need the shoes and knee socks, either.”

My first response was to cringe, just a tiny bit. I’d never even stripped in the locker room back at school, if I could avoid it. Somehow, though, it seemed perfectly reasonable here, and slowly I began to remove the rest of my sensible cotton defences. Off came the bra, and my breasts sprang out free and high, my nipples tightening in the breeze from the fan. My skin was so sensitive I could feel the warm air caress me, everywhere.

This was getting easier. Shoes and socks went next, and good riddance. Suddenly they were nothing but a barrier to sensation. When I had shed them, I rubbed the smooth tingling skin on my shins and wriggled my toes on the thick rug in pleasure. Much better!

As I exposed myself, I admired my body. I found myself revelling in its mechanical perfection in a way I never, ever had before. I had always envied the skinny girls, but now my full breasts and hips revealed themselves to be appealingly rubenesque. Damn, I look pretty good! I swung my thick long hair to flow over my shoulders and saw it wasn’t just brown, but a sultry auburn. And those annoying freckles – I examined my face in the nearby mirror. Yup. Still there. But I’d never realized just how sexy that dusting of colour across the bridge of my nose looked.

I was definitely light-headed, now. “What was in that drink you gave me?”

“Just bubbles, I think – it was Perrier. Nice tits.”

Instead of bristling at this crude, guy-type compliment, I simply nodded, acknowledging my dues. And, rather than hunching out of my underpants, as I normally did, I stood and drew down the top with my thumbs. Wiggling my hips, I slid the scrunched cotton down to my ankles, then straightened and tossed them away with a toe. It was an erotic display, if I do say so (in spite of my utilitarian drawers), and I did it without a second thought. Not only that, but when I had stripped to the skin, I honest–to-God stretched, languorously, while rubbing the fine down that decorated my mound. I may have been a virgin, but in the wee small hours of the night I had occasionally polished the pearl (as my brother called it), and so I recognized the tingling buzz building between my legs. I wouldn’t have been caught dead doing anything like this a week ago. Now, though, it just felt natural.

Joy’s tongue appeared, to moisten her ruby lips with a flicker. “OK – face down.”

Still uncertain what had come over me, I lay down as instructed. I heard a slight rustling, and then I felt the drizzle of warm oil on my back. It started at the nape of my neck, and spiralled down my shoulders in a fine thread, before crossing the small of my back and performing a loop on my bum. Then it traced a line along my butt crack and continued relentlessly down the back of my left thigh all the way to my heel, before finally breaking contact long enough to cross to my right foot and lay a path back up my other thigh.

It finished with a liquid exclamation point on my tailbone, and it was the most erotic thing I had ever felt in my life.

“Relax,” murmured Joy, which was easy for her to say, maybe, because that’s when I felt her bare bum as she straddled my thighs. Her skin was smooth and hot. Not only that she felt about twenty degrees warmer than me, but sexy/hot - the image of Joy sitting naked over my back flashed in my head. Not that it matters, I suppose (outside of Kansas), but for the record I’d never before thought of other girls in a sexual way. Now my own skin tingled all over; and my pussy, which was already buzzing thanks to her oiling my back, was beginning to seriously twitch.

And then she touched me – I mean, besides her bum cheeks on my legs - as she started to work the scented oil into my shoulders. It was strange – the first contact of her long, strong fingers was electric, but soothing too. Her touch constantly varied from the faintest of butterfly strokes to deep kneading, without any predictable pattern. It was delightful. I sighed, and really did relax, almost floating, although I wasn’t remotely sleepy.

The massage continued down the same path as the oil had before. The sensations were so intense that my whole being seemed focused on my back. I thought I had a handle on it, but by the time she had reached my backside, I started to squirm. And, when Joy’s hands traced the form of my left cheek along its junction with my thigh, I lost it. I began to come like I never had before.

It should have left me drained, but instead I felt energized. Joy carried on as though nothing had happened, skooching her bum down my legs as she continued the massage. Down one leg she went, and across, and I came again when she did my right foot. Go figure - maybe it was in anticipation of her trip back up that leg. In any case, I came yet again, big time, when she reached my right cheek.

Before I had quite returned to planet earth, she delivered a firm whack to said cheek, and hopped off my legs.

“Erk!” was my elegant response, and I squirmed around until I could see her.

She was standing close beside the couch, hands on her hips and now wearing only her red bustiere. The hand-span space between her thighs was precisely at my eye level, and so I found myself looking squarely at the neatly trimmed patch of kinky black fur decorating the top of her mound.

Below which, I got my first proper look at another woman's ‘treasure’ (as my mother had referred to it on the one occasion that region was ever discussed). Joy reached down and spread those fleshy red lips, which exposed another cute little set of orchid petal lips inside the first ones. I caught a flash of silver in there, and saw she had a row of little rings along the edge. She began running two fingers beside the rings, then moved to the top of her notch, up to her pink nubbin, and tugged on that for a bit. 

Oddly, I still wasn’t the least bit embarrassed – but I decided I ought to be, so I redirected my gaze, first down. She was truly amazing. Her legs were long and perfect. On her left ankle, where other girls might display a rose, Joy sported a tiny skull and crossbones tattoo. Another Goth thing. Then I scanned up, past her pussy to her tight belly above. Yet another silver ring sparkled on the rim of her bellybutton.  When she saw I was watching, she stretched and unhooked the bustiere, exposing her breasts at last.  Proud and firm, they owed nothing by way of support to her costume - on the contrary it must have kept them squashed.  She rubbed them together as though reviving the circulation after their confinement. Her nipples tightened with the attention.

“My turn,” she announced.

She knelt down, right in front of me, and up-ended the little bottle on herself. I got a glimpse of the label: ‘Jade’s Good Tasting Massage Oils’. The stuff drizzled onto the front of her neck so that it flowed down her chest and cascaded off those luscious breasts. I was fascinated, and aroused in spite of myself. When she leaned forward and started rubbing me with them, spreading the scented oil around, I had to admit the feel of Joy's tits pressed into mine was rather pleasant. OK, actually it was exquisite, and I began to help her out. We had to wrestle some so we didn't miss anyplace, sliding and squashing ourselves together.

Still holding her tightly, I took the bottle and started to put some oil on her back. I soon found myself marvelling at those magnificent wings. The tattoo flowed across her beautiful hard body like it was a part of her. Running my hands over it, I could feel her powerful muscles ripple under the soft skin.

Pretty soon we were slick with oil and gleaming all over, our four hands roving everywhere as the buzz began to build.

Then, abruptly, Joy disentangled herself and got me to sit in a big wicker chair. Lifting one leg up over each of the chair's big arms, she opened my legs wide apart, then leaned in and planted a big smooch on my lower lips. This was definitely something new for me (I told you I hadn’t got out much) and I wasn’t near ready for what happened when she sort of tickled at my clit with her tongue. It was like an electric current had touched me. I blinked and gasped … and clapped my hands down to press Joy’s face against me.

After a deal of terrific nuzzling and licking, she tucked a finger into me, and wriggled it about. I could tell it was real juicy in there – by that time my cunnie was positively drooling down my legs. Suddenly the next orgasm hit me and I felt my pussy grip her finger tightly inside me. Then without my meaning to do it, I humped forward, and it was like my snapping pussy was eating her finger up to the knuckle.

After the rush passed, Joy looked up and gave me a wicked grin. She went back to munching my nethers, and this time each time I came close to bliss she backed off. I got so close I could taste it – never mind I’d already come, a whole bunch of times – but it turned out she knew a thing or two about extending pleasure. She was able to sense my level of excitement, and before I approached the point of no return she would shift her focus or slow her motions until I was off the boil. Even as she licked and nibbled, she entered me again, first with one cunning finger, and then two, and always she seemed to know where best to stimulate me. 

Each time she brought me to the brink, and then held back, I nearly screamed. It seemed to go on forever, and then – oh my god! - she began to push her fingers deeper. By this time my poor cunnie was fairly slavering for her touch. Before I knew it, she folded her fingers together and kept on pushing. Slowly, she was able to thrust her hand completely inside my virginal pussy. It was impossible, and I should have been shocked, but I was also well gone. I recall I pushed back to meet her, and I know I shrieked with relief as my body went on automatic (yet again), my cunt muscles clamping rhythmically on her pumping forearm.

I was just catching my breath between orgasmic peaks when the bell over the door tinkled, and I looked up to see a prim old lady who resembled my grandma. She was carrying a wicker basket containing her milk and tea from the grocer. Busted!

Joy followed my glance and said, “Margaret, how are you?”

“Hello, my dear, I’m just fine, thank you.” The old girl gave us a grandmotherly smile and added, “Don’t get up – I just need to pick up a few things. I’ll put them down on my account.”

To me, Joy said, “Margaret runs a riding academy, upstairs. One of our best customers.”

I managed to gasp, “Horses, upstairs?” I think I can be excused for not thinking all that clearly.

Joy gave Margaret a quizzical look, and simply said, “This is Jane.”

Margaret nodded as if that explained everything. “Pleased to meet you, sweetie. Cyril has told me so much about you. Pop up and visit us, sometime.” With that she wandered off with her basket to do some shopping.

Joy picked up where she had left off, leaning up to lick my tummy while pinching my clit with the crook of her elbow. I’ll say that again – with her whole forearm inside me, she bent her bicep so as to catch my throbbing clit inside the fold of her elbow. And she wiggled her fingers deep in my belly. I came twice more, loudly, before she extracted her arm from inside me with a rude shlurp.

I slumped back against the cushions, while I came to my senses, and tried to take in what had just happened. Margaret had gone, unnoticed, sometime during our wrestling match. Joy, I saw, had lain back opposite me and had inserted her big toe between my pussy lips – which to my surprise were in no way stretched. I held her toe in a firm but friendly cunt-lock.

She grinned at me and asked, “Now are you relaxed?”

“God, yes! That was amazing!” I continued to let my mind wander, reviewing all that had happened this afternoon. I still couldn’t believe it, and yet here I was, undisturbed by it all. Finally something occurred to me. “Joy – where’s Uncle Cyril?”

“Oh, he’s dead,” she said dreamily.

“WHAT?!”

“His heart gave out, two weeks back, the randy old devil. Quite painless, he said. We had a long talk about it. He was an interesting old gaffer. Pity you missed him, really. He spoke highly of you.”

“'We had a long talk about it’?” I gave my beautiful companion a hard look. She had her arms lightly crossed under those magnificent breasts, and the wings inked along them looked different than they had when I’d first seen them – like they were ruffled.

I shivered, and then asked, “Who are you?”

Joy continued as though I had not spoken. “He said to say hi.”

“Is he in heaven?”

“Nah!”

“Hell then?” – a whisper.

“'Why, this is hell, nor am I out of it.’ Sorry! I love that line. No, there are just other planes than this one - some better, some worse. He’s moved on, that’s all. Had good karma, though. Probably came back as a house cat.”

We both turned to look at the striped kitten, which was now preparing to pounce on an unsuspecting gnome.

“Not that one, though. Honest.”

 My mind boggled. “So you’re, like, the angel of death?”

“Well, I guess you could say I was your Angel of Death – yeah.” She gave me a little smile.

“I’m going to die, too?”

“Everybody’s gonna die, lover. But, no - not exactly. You already are dead. Don’t ya remember that bus?”

I did – but only up to the squeal of breaks. If anything came after that, my brain had apparently refused to register the squishy bits. “But … I feel fine.” I held my perfectly real hand in front of my face. This was ridiculous. We had just fucked. Technically – and here I looked down to where my pussy held tight to her caressing digit – we still were. “Give me a break”.

“Whoa! Denial and bargaining. Anyway, you should be feeling way better than fine! Lucky thing that bus didn’t stop, and there was no one else around.” Joy (a. k. a. TAOD) gave a wink. “It’s kind of hard to explain – the science of theology hasn’t evolved much on this plane. The thing is, revivals aren’t my department, but re-animation I can do. See - you’re dead as a dodo, no question. But I’ve kept your body going to hold your spirit.”

“You mean I’m un-dead?”

Nah – you’re most sincerely dead. Ha! Sorry. More kind of like, oh, a zombie, I guess.”

Joy saw my look of dazed horror and continued, “Bad analogy, maybe. Anyway, don’t worry, you don’t need to eat brains, or drink blood. You don’t really need to eat, at all. ‘Course, water will keep your fluids up - lubrication, and all,” – she smirked at this – “and no reason not to eat chocolate – you won’t be gaining any weight, now. If you do eat, bran muffins would be a good idea.” When I raised an eyebrow, she added, “Keeps you regular.” She paused to give time for this to sink in (which none of it did, as yet), and then said, “So – ya wanna go for a swim?”

I blinked at this complete switch over to a topic that seemed somewhat less important to my future, or lack of one.

“Only, there’s a little pool up on the roof. Just a big hot tub, really, with a cedar deck all ‘round it. Real private. See, Cyril owns the whole building - or rather you do, now. You were in his will, and nobody but you and me know that you’re, um, vitally challenged. If you stay here, no one is likely to find out.”

“What happens if I go somewhere else? Do I turn to dust, or something?”

“Nah – but in this neighbourhood, no one will care that you’re body is at room temperature, and that you never, ever get any older.”

“But – why? I mean, why was I recycled, or whatever?”

“It’s Christmas?”

“It’s early December. So, why?”

“OK. The thing is, well, you probably heard about how I like to take the odd holiday. And it’s nice to spend time playing with people I know. So, all over the world, I’ve made friends like you.”

I was pretty sure this wasn’t what they meant by ‘making friends’, but I just said, “So you can’t have live friends?”

“Sure – I’ll introduce you to one or two today. But those relationships don’t … last, if you follow me.”

Well, I did follow her, mainly because she had unplugged her toe and set off down the back hall. At the end a long stairwell led up to a large landing. This held two doors.

Joy pointed at the red one. That’s the back door to Margaret and her girls’ knock shop. She has her own down at the street level, but sometimes her customers prefer to come through your shop.”

Leading me through the other door - which led to another hallway - Joy continued to name my tenants. “301’s Wally, he’s the tattoo shop guy, and 302’s Marie. Pale lady – runs the occult shop. You might see her tonight. I’ve never seen her drink … wine. Ha, Ha.”

“Right - I think I saw her, um, sitting with Wally, down in the alley.”

“Oh? She’s an early riser today. Course there’s no direct sun down there. What? Don’t give me that look – I said you weren’t a vampire. I didn’t say there was no such thing. I wonder what she made of you?”

“Er - why?”

“She could tell you were dead. You’ve got no aura, see.” Before I could ask what that meant, Joy breezed off down the hall and led me through the last door. “And this is your place.”

I followed her inside and temporarily forgot my necrotic status. My new home was awesome - a huge open loft, with an upper gallery and a spiral staircase leading to the roof above. The place was full of comfortable (and expensive looking) antique furniture. One wall was all books, complete with an honest-to-God rolling ladder, while another had a big open fireplace flanked by rather racy paintings. Being a corner suite, the other two walls had rows of tall windows; the side nearest me had a stunning view of the harbour. It also overlooked the garden terrace roof of the lower building right across the alley. On the other side of an eight-foot gap I could see an iron railing holding back a profusion of shrubs and flowers. This greenery surrounded a small cedar deck, and in the middle of the deck a good-looking naked couple were humping like dogs.

They were both facing me, and the girl, whose head was thrown back, actually waved. I waved back as Joy came up beside me and put her arm around my waist. Only then did it occur to me that we, too, were starkers – and glistening with oil. We’d left our clothes scattered downstairs (and the shop unlocked).

I was stimulated by the sight of our lusty neighbours, but also intrigued. “I didn’t know people could do it that way.”

“God! Didn’t they teach you anything at school?”

Fat chance. I had a sudden image of a sex-ed class, something that, legend had it, was taught somewhere in America (probably California). I pictured the couple I was now watching going at it on top of Mister Hardrack’s desk – him pumping, her squealing, and papers and pencil flying left and right - while old man Hardy’s saying, “People, make a note of what Miss Juno says when she comes. I want you to write a haiku about it, later.”  I giggled out loud, as the image in my head played on: “And don’t forget to get your permission slips back for next week’s field trip to Miss Margaret’s Leaping Academy.”  I ended my daydream with a loud snort, and then looked over at my new friend out of the corner of my eye.

Joy, who was waving with me, had turned and was giving me a raised-eyebrow look. When she saw my embarrassment (not at being buck-naked, you’ll note) she abruptly leaned over and stuck her tongue in my ear. “They must have taken the afternoon off – usually they only fuck over their lunch hour. Which reminds me – I’m famished.” She marched over to the kitchen.

I blinked. Was this more of Joy’s twisted humour? “Death – famine – what’s next, war and, watsizname, pestilence?”

“Chill out,” came Joy’s voice, her head in the refrigerator. “I work alone. Want some milk?”

“Um – yeah, milk sounds good.” It did, too. I was near to drooling when I smelled the big, sticky cinnamon bun she extracted from a breadbox. Like she’d warned me, it wasn’t stomach-growling hunger, just a craving for that sweet comforting taste.

She took a gooey bite, sugary crumbs tumbling down her lovely chest, and then tossed the thing across to me while she poured milk into some big wine glasses.

After the sticky buns and milk, well of course we had to lick the crumbs off each other. I came big-time when Joy chased a mote with her pointy tongue around and around my clit (that was her story, anyhow). And, after that we definitely needed a shower. This involved a lot of further groping accompanied by some loofa action. After a grand finale, in which we were skittering around on the tiles under a pounding stream of water, Joy suggested we go topside to dry off in the sunshine.

We proceeded up the spiral staircase to the pillow-strewn rooftop and spent the rest of the afternoon lounging naked in the sun. Joy’s idea of privacy wasn’t quite the same as mine – there was an old brick office building overlooking us, just as we overlooked the next building to the south. Now it was my turn to occasionally wave at the various folks leaning out above us, as we proceeded to more leisurely explore and stimulate one another's bodies.

Never mind coming to grips with the fact that I was dead, I couldn't even get over the idea that I was making out with a woman. Of course Joy was much more than a woman, but her plumbing seemed to be the same. I was definitely learning what it was to give pleasure, as well as receive it. 

A leisurely warm-up developed into a long, satisfying romp, which took us pretty much a full lap around the cedar-decked rooftop – including in and out of the heated pool. The spectacle of our bodacious bodies writhing around - particularly Joy with her great black wings - must have provided some stimulation to the audience above. (although I don’t know what they made of all the time we spent at the bottom of the pool). I sure found it stimulating, anyway. This being dead thing might not suck, after all.

During the subsequent break, Joy said, “I’ve got something to pass the time until the boys come along.” That we were expecting company was news to me. “It’s one of the benefits of owning a toy store,” Leaning behind a planter, she lifted out a most remarkable toy indeed. “Behold the BFC 9000.”

It was like one of the torpedoes in the shop window - a humongous, flesh-coloured model of an erect cock. Easily three feet long, it was longer and thicker than my arm. Using my first officially sighted example as my benchmark - that of Wally the tattooed man (from which I mentally removed the snake tattoo, and Marie’s pale pussy) - I reckoned that the BFC was much larger than life but otherwise accurate.

Joy flourished it like a sword, flexing it slightly over her head to demonstrate its stiff, rubbery construction. On closer inspection, I saw that it had a head on each end – a double dong. I was transfixed at the sight, and at the thought that I soon would be. Transfixed, that is.

"Check it out - each end is different," she said, and she confirmed her intentions by having me lie back on a stack of cushions, my bottom higher than my head.  Then she opened my knees and set one end to my cunnie.  Producing a fresh bottle of oil from under one of the pillows, she drizzled the liquid onto the top-most head of the shaft so that a warm stream ran all the way down it and over me, while at the same time pressing down with the thing. Once she had lodged the tip inside me, she began to twist and push it. As it sank in I was squirming something to see - sometimes clutching at the toy, sometimes the cushions under my head. At one point she hauled it all the way out of me, and showed me the thing, her thumb marking a point on its length, like a dipstick. I caught hold of it and helped her stuff it back inside me, to the sound of applause from several secretaries. (Like I Said,  'private' was a relative concept for Joy.)

 Joy twisted it a bit and slid it in deeper than ever, until finally she decided it was time for the next phase. Releasing her grip, she shifted her position, while I eagerly took over cranking the thing. Then I stopped and opened my eyes, and looked over my belly to see how things stood.  Well, it stood pretty tall. It seemed to be waving around in the air a mile. Joy adjusted herself so she was sitting astride my thighs, and I had a brief notion of how boys must feel, to see a substantial cock rear from your crotch to line up with a waiting cunnie.

As I watched Joy drove herself onto her end of the thing, and the impression vanished. I couldn’t feel it sliding into her pretty pussy, but the impact forced it another inch or so into mine. That I felt, somewhere up behind my rib cage, which didn’t seem possible but felt really, really good!  She had swallowed a good bit on the one go, herself, and soon we found a new rhythm. Lying back, she held on tight to the thing's middle until her hands met mine - and then we linked arms and began to buck our hips together and back. As we worked, more and more of the part that stood between us disappeared from sight until, locked in alignment by that hidden dowel, we were hungrily grinding and slithering our cunt lips together.

The explosion that followed beat all the rest – I think mostly because we came at the same time. It was like it fed back and forth, or something.

Afterward, still linked by that big rubber wang, we lay sated in each other’s arms, eyes closed - in my case soaking in the afternoon sun, rather like a lizard on a rock.

After a while I opened an eye and drank in the sight my new lover. “You asleep?”

“Death never sleeps,” was her murmured reply.

“Could have fooled me.”

 “You don’t need to sleep, either, but it’s still nice to lay back and think of nothing once in a while”

No sleep? What else didn’t I know? “Just what am I? And I don’t want to hear ‘zombie’ again!”

Joy obliged. “I have another friend,” – I knew well what kind she meant – “who calls herself ‘re-anime’ – uses it on her business cards, the cheeky thing. Nobody has any idea what it means, and they’re too embarrassed to ask.”

I lay my head on a firm breast, closed my eyes to the peanut gallery above, and tried to think of nothing. Not as easy as it sounds - I’d had an eventful day. I lay quiet for a while, and then felt a feather brush my cheek. My eyes snapped back open … and there in Joy’s hand was a seagull feather.

“Gotcha!”

The Toy Shoppe - A Midwinter’s Tale - Part Two

I woke slowly, as strange dreams gave way to confusing reality. I was in an unfamiliar bed – bigger and softer than my own, with a thick down comforter piled up to my chin. My jammies were definitely missing, and there was a loud purring by my ear – I’d always wanted a cat, but Great-Aunt Emily is allergic. I continued to take stock. My own pussy was sore, and there seemed to be someone’s arm lying on my tummy.

Memories started to flood back. I’d just been fucked nine ways to Sunday, which being a virgin – okay, having recently been a virgin – was out of character for me. I flipped the comforter off, and a kitten bounced away in annoyance as I stared at the raven-wing tattoo across the back and arms of my bedmate. More memories hit me like a load of bricks - or a bus. I was being cuddled by the girl who, yesterday, had claimed to be an Angel of Death named Joy, and who had assured me that, in spite of a good deal of evidence to the contrary, I was deceased.

She was humming softly – Angels of Death never sleep, she’d said. She had claimed I didn’t need to either, but I’d been dead to the world. Damn - wrong analogy. This was all crazy. Probably, she was crazy. I drew my forearm up between my breasts and fumbled about with my other hand trying to take my pulse. Well, shit, nothing – but then I was no nurse. I had no idea what to look for. Besides which, I recalled at some point yesterday her flat-out fucking with me (in the head-fuck sort of way) by poking me with a gull feather and then laughing at my reaction.

   I shook my head - this was just goofy. I remembered our retreating from the rooftop above - of my own building, apparently - when the sun started to set. We’d played some more, then slept. At least, I did ... I think. Sort of drifted in a warm fog, really. Anyway, it was still dark out, but the kitten seemed to want attention, so I slipped out from under the comforter to follow her to the kitchen.

I just about jumped out of my skin to find the pale blonde girl I’d seen back in the alley when I’d arrived, now poking around in the fridge. She was dressed, or rather undressed, the same as she’d been then - with some decorative henna lace designs as her total ensemble.

“Geez - were you two planning to laze the night away?”

“Um. Marie?”

“At yer service, dead girl ... if said service entails fucking. Cyril used to keep some blood in here - I must have finished it off. Damn.”

Blood? Joy claimed Marie was a vampire. Did Marie believe it, too? “I’m Jane,” I said, creeped out by being accused of being the ‘late’ Jane by virtual strangers.

“Don’t you ever knock?” This was from Joy herself, now beside me.

“Got a standing invitation,” said Marie with a grin. Said grin flashed some impressive fangs, and I found myself sitting hard on the nearest chair. Of course, anyone could fit themselves out with believable pointy teeth - given maybe a movie makeup team was on hand. This was the most logical explanation, but we were way past logic here. Or were by the time Marie’s canines had quickly receded to near-normal size - slightly prominent but not outright wolfish.

“Wine, perhaps?” Joy wore a mischievous smile of her own. It sounded like a regular joke between them.

“Well, I hardly ever drink wine,” said Marie, while stretching her back to lift and display her lovely pale boobs. “But sure. Be nice if you were to restock with a nice B negative, though. For guests.”

“You knew Uncle Cyril?”

“Your uncle?”

"’There are always Uncles at Christmas. The same Uncles’,” declaimed Joy, who had oozed her bountiful flesh onto the sofa. It finally dawned on me that we were all three of us starkers.

“Huh. D.T. had that right,” said Marie. “What?” This to Joy, who had one beautiful eyebrow raised high. “Haunted Bookshop, just across the street,” she continued, to me. “Not like I don’t read. Anyway, Cyril and I have been bumping pelvises for over a hundred years, so he’s more like your great-great-great uncle. He was always good at keeping in touch with the family, though ... in a deliberately vague sort of way.”

I swung around abruptly. The vintage ‘reclining nude’ painting hanging right over the mantle was the spitting image of Marie. Including the lace collar, actually, that most likely was an old-timey tattoo.

Joy elaborated for me. “Would have been a waste of a fine ‘lady’s man’, if I’d taken him back then. And the knife hole was an easier patch-up than your neck. He would have waited, so as to meet you, but that photo you sent ... well, he was afraid he’d be tempted to stay. ”

Marie took over again, as she settled onto Joy’s lap. “Too bad for you. That man was a virtuoso - with his cock, his tongue, his fingers … hells, even his toes. And he just got better with practice. He will be missed.” She took one of Joy’s fingers and began to suck on it in a suggestive way, presumably by way of demonstration.

Even as I eased down on the cushions beside them, I found myself asking, “What happened to him?”

“He was just curious what was next for him,” murmured Joy. “Said it was time, so after a last major fuck-fest, I let him move on.”

Marie, who had moved on to suck my right nipple stiff, eased back to laugh. “Died happy, all right. But he went straight to dust, like those old vampire movies - hey, I can’t have a DVD player? Anyway, it took two days to vacuum him out of the rug. Typical man. Plus his bones just fell in a heap, so we boxed him up and took him down to my magic shop. Sold some bits of him just yesterday.”

I had no idea what to say to that. Not just that it was so hard to believe - and it was, what with vampires and ghosts, death-angels, and not least myself, allegedly dead - but Marie had returned her lips to my boob, and Joy was already wrist-deep in my already soaking pussy.

Sometime later, we were in a heap on the afore mentioned well-cleaned rug, contentedly nuzzling each other’s moist-and-tasty bits in front of an open fire. Occasionally, I would turn over in my mind a small fragment of the last day or two - to try it on for size, like. Starting with: who lit the fireplace, how has it kept burning all this time, and was I really dead? Luckily, one of my new friends would nibble a particularly sensitive piece of me, and I would leave off my pondering.

Oddly enough, one of the least important issues (considering the competition) held on fast even as Joy was sucking exquisitely on my earlobe. This was all so delightful, and yet they had extolled Multi-uncle Cyril for his cocksmanship. What would the real thing feel like? “Umm. The tattooed guy - Wally. Didn’t you say he lived on this floor?”

“Sure,” said Marie. “What makes you think of him?” Laughing, she began to skootch her nose in my pussy.

“Ooh! Oh! Yeah, that. I guess.” Like I wasn’t absolutely sure what else I wanted to put up there, soon.

“He’ll be at work by now,” said Joy.

“Huh? What time is it?” I lifted my head enough to see that there was daylight beyond the carefully closed drapes.

Marie laughed again. To Joy, she asked, “You haven’t shown her yet?”

“I didn’t want to overload the poor thing.”

“You upped the cloaking on the alley to keep out all but the regulars ...”

“You said there were sailors.”

“Sailors always seem to be impervious to the cloaking. Anyway they were just looking for Maggie’s brothel. My point is that you arranged things so Jane here could see the residents at play. Then you told her she was dead, and proceeded to have your wicked way with her until she’d had so many orgasms she didn’t know what day it was.” Here she flourished her arm at me - to demonstrate my addled state, I suppose, although the gesture lost some of its impact given she was still on her back with her head between my thighs. It did, however, set her tits to jiggling in an appealing way. “One of my semen-slash-blood donor fuck-buddies works next door - he told me he watched you two wrestling with that three-foot wang toy of yours between you. And now you’re groping in her snatch. So just fuck her, already.”

Huh?

I glanced to Joy, who was still beside me with her head in the near vicinity to my ear, but my eyes were drawn irresistibly down to drink in, yet again, her ample chest, her firm belly, and her ... oh, I thought. Her clitty seems to be growing. You may wonder why I thought that to be the most marvellous thing she had done so far, but you have to recall how horny I had become since my evident passing. Her Joy-buzzer became fat and rigid - pretty much like a real penis (in my experience, and barring the tattoos). By the time it had reached the eight inch mark, or so, I determined to climb on-board. After the various penetrations I had already enjoyed, Joy’s magical cock held no threat. My only thought was to feel this thing grow even more inside me - which it most definitely did.

Joy rolled onto her back as I mounted her, still facing Marie ... who repositioned herself only enough to be able to lick our interlocked bits as I churned up and down. I was quickly reaching yet another peak when I felt a surge of fluid pulse up into me. I might have shrieked with pleasure; all I remember is Marie’s muffled voice saying, “I forgot to mention that the thing can ejaculate, too.”

When I came to my senses, I found myself still on Joy’s lap with her thingie iron hard inside me (I was unaware at the time that this was not particularly normal - not that the word applied to any of this). Having seemingly doubled its size since it had entered me, it was still holding me upright - although I had been limply unconscious long enough for Marie to mostly lick us clean. Blood was not the only bodily fluid she seemed to thrive on.

Joy, being both flexible and amazingly strong, began to demonstrate a variety of what I took to be the standard ways people coupled, without ever withdrawing her extendo-willie. I found myself on my back, on my belly, on my side, on my knees, and walking across the rug with my hands ... constantly squealing with seemingly endless orgasms. Or maybe it was one, continuous one. I should have collapsed with exhaustion, and so should have my new fuck-buddies, given their joint exertions (Marie’s being largely, but not entirely, self administered).

  >< >< ><

Eventually, we found ourselves on the sofa where we began, with me still impaled on Joy’s lap and trembling with aftershocks. And even then, I wasn’t convinced this had been the best ride on the orgasm-train yet. As good as, mind you. But still, I found a little part of myself wondering.

Specifically, about men. While it occurred to me that most guys don’t provide plump tittie pillows to lean against, I figured there were bound to be things on the plus side of their ledger. So when Wally strode in, I felt my still stuffed pussy hungering for a sample of man-meat. In the spirit of exploration, of course.

“Hello, ladies.”

“Hello to you, human,” was Marie’s response. “I see you got my text.”

 “A bit garbled, frankly. It sounded like our new neighbour had an emergency opening, but it looks like Joy’s filled the vacancy in question.”

Joy was amused at my rapt attention to our tattooed guest. He was wearing cut-offs, no doubt owing to a lack of alley-cloaking this morning (and nudity, illustrated or not, would probably be bad for the tourist trade); but the green head of his serpent-decorated cock was already standing clear of his shorts, in anticipation. She assured him that his assistance would still be appreciated, and graciously pulled me up and off of her own apparatus to set me woozily on my feet. Wally, for his part, seemed relieved. His pinioned pecker looked hugely uncomfortable, and I wondered whether it had forced its way up there while he was still in the alley. It probably had, and was (uncomfy, that is), because when he dropped the scrap of denim, the poor thing shuddered and grew another two sizes. Plus one.

Up close, there were some non-reptilian differences from Joy’s wand. Now that I could see it fully rigid (and not largely hidden inside Marie), it was distinctly veiny, and presently it lacked the collar of loose flesh I’d first noticed in the alley. It should be noted that foreskins were even more outside my previous experience then than dicks in general had been.

While I was amazingly alert - not least because it was beginning to look like I really might be deceased - I was too weak to move toward him. Luckily that mattered not at all. Stepping over, he had me up and onto his trouser-snake in moments. And now more surprises: the throbbing of his pulse inside me ... and even more unexpected, the thing radiated intense heat. So did the rest of him, wherever we touched - his powerful hands on my waist, his hips between my thighs... “Oh my God! You’re burning!”

Marie laughed. “Wally is used to necrophilia, what with fucking me on a regular basis. But if you plan to take on a civilian someday, you’d better take a hot bath first, girl. Bring you up from room temperature.”

“But...” I gasped, as he began to bounce me on his wang.

“Yeah, Joy’s a bit warmer than us, but not so as you’d notice, much,” said Marie. “No idea why. But the living - yeah, that hot rod is definitely a turn-on.” She nuzzled Wally’s barely straining shoulder, for emphasis, as he continued to pump me up and down.

I could feel myself about to explode, yet again. “Yes! Yes! Yes! ...”

“Girl’s got rhythm. Told you she could take over for Cyril.”

“Too bad you didn’t know her number was coming up before Cyril checked out. He’d definitely have stayed around for this,” said Marie.

Wally had got me off by then, but was still unable to do anything but gasp to his pounding (although the lyric had changed slightly: “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”), when the door opened again. Two amazingly attractive women stepped in, both wearing gossamer bathrobes. With barely a glance at the floorshow, the redhead asked Joy whether Cyril was home.

“Good morning Sylvia, Judy,” responded Joy. “I’m so sorry, Miss Margret must have forgotten to tell you - Cyril has moved on. We were just saying how much he would be missed.”

Over Wally’s shoulder, I could see both girls’ faces fall. It struck me that given their occupation, as revealed by their connection to our resident Madame, they must be as insatiable as I had become.

“Come over here, my dears - let me console you,” said Joy.

“Fuck, the dick-ratio is way out of balance, now,” muttered Marie, although she coped by intercepting the black girl and lasciviously unwrapping her. “I think it’s time to call Waldo and the others up to join the party.”

“Waldo?” I asked - or, more exactly: “Fuck! Fuck! Yes!! Waldo? Fuck!”

It was Wally’s turn to laugh. “That guy in the Dungeons and Dragons shop. You know, Xena the cross-dresser.”

“Be nice,” said Marie, while still coming to grips with Sylvia. “He’s well hung, and knows how to use it. Mind you, he wants to move up to Vampirella - asked me to ‘sire’ him. Dufus. I told him to ask again in thirty years.”

While Marie delivered this speech, Judy started to swallow the entirety of Joy’s still prominent wang. Fuck me, I thought - and not just for Wally’s sake. Did everyone know their secrets?

While mind reading didn’t seem to be in Joy’s repertoire, she still picked up on my confusion. “We are a family here - all your tenants. You own both sides of the alley - four buildings in all. Cyril picked up the ones at the Chinatown end after the Tongs stabbed him in the heart. Coming back seemed to earn him a fair amount of respect. Anyway, you have your own secret domain, even when I’m away.”

Wally settled us down onto an overstuffed chair so that I was on his lap. I took advantage of this to rotate myself on his pintle, and let him continue bouncing me with a fresh grip on my ass-cheeks.

Facing Joy over Judy’s bobbing head, I asked, “Can I ever - uh-huh - leave this place?”

“Not more than a few blocks. You’ll know the boundaries - people will start to notice that something about you seems odd. Remember, I said I have sanctuaries like this elsewhere - not many, mind. But my re-animated lovers are each the king or queen of their domain in my absence. You will enjoy it, I assure you.”

“How long - ohmyGod - before you leave us?” I already felt downcast - or as much you can be in the midst of a string of orgasms.

Marie, who was now astride Sylvia on the rug, with her cell phone out to call Waldo (and I had no idea where she’d been keeping that), paused and said, “So you believe in Joy now?”

“God, yes!”

Joy took this to be addressed to her rather than Wally, who had just managed to bottom out even deeper than before, and said, “Not a God, but I’ve been around. Not to worry, I’ll be staying here for a while, yet.” She chuckled, but so loudly that everyone turned to look at her (barring Judy who simply rolled her eyes upward in surprise). Sitting a little more erectly, she seemed almost to grow. Stretching her arms up and out, so that her bouncing breasts were thrust forward, she grinned hugely and then spread out behind herself a ginormous pair of black feathered wings. Even from where she sat on the sofa, they brushed the ceiling near the opposite walls of the loft. “It's Christmas, Jane. It's the time of miracles. Welcome home!”

 
fin

About the Author

About the author: I’ve always felt that erotica tends to take itself too seriously – a stick up its collective bum, as it were. For my part, I find the whole bumping of pelvises thing to be intrinsically comic. Fun in other ways, too - but still. I started out trying to write parodies of the genre, and discovered that a whole lot of exaggeration was needed to get beyond the standard fare. So I settled for a serving of perversity with (hopefully) a bit of humour on the side. It took me a while to notice that there were some recurring themes that were a bit ... sideways. The most consistent thread you'll find here is transformation. Not the furry hentai sort; more the sort of thing that Greek and Roman mythology revels in. I find there's nothing like a meadow full of nymphs and satyrs to get the blood stirred.

About This Edition, Including Author’s Disclaimers

Dogsitter & Other Tales - comprising Dogsitter - Several quick and silly riffs on the old “girl meets mad scientist (to say nothing of his dog)” story. Of course, my Heroine would never ordinarily Dream of engaging in the Acts depicted here, but for certain Sinister Influences. And neither would the dog. The Fountain- A twisted quickie in which a young Wicca is drawn by a Greater Power to an assignation of Wicked Intent. The Toy Shoppe - a Midwinter’s Tale - A young Woman, who is no longer in Kansas, faces Death only to make Unusual new friends. 

In any event, it is necessary to provide a Warning: this story contains fantasy (including physical transformations and improbable genitalia); also couplings involving men, women, and beasts both mythological and mundane - sometimes in groups. Oh, and hopefully some humor.

The author offers the following additional disclaimers: Some action sequences should not be attempted at home. No animals were hurt in the production of these stories. All actors are professionals - not necessarily that kind. Certain of the acts depicted herein - including girl on girl, girl on boy on girl (etc), as well as thaumaturgy, dancing with intent, and those involving squirrels, hoses and vulcanization (as well as rude tattoos and statuary) - may, if you prefer, be taken as having been simulated. Do NOT try the positions described herein without a reputable Kama Sutra to hand. It has helpfully been pointed out that many are anatomically impossible. By chance, the author has actually studied anatomy, and concurs with that assessment. This is why magic (or undiscovered science, which is perhaps the same thing) has been invoked to explain unlikely organ sizes or plumbing arrangements, not to mention the whole transformation thing mentioned above.

The fountain is presented with a Tug of the Forelock to Seraphic Soul , from whom I loosely borrowed the Dance at the heart of this little story.

More Wicked Bedtime Stories from Cordelia Speedicut:

Cinderella - an Erotic Fairy Tale - Book One - Guilder - Several connected tales touching upon the revisited story of Cinderella. It begins with a Witch, some Ruffians and Rats, a Curse, and a Member of Unusual Size. And then things get more Complicated … with a Fire Breathing Dragon, some Mercenaries and Blacksmiths, an Erotic Fountain and some Rude Confectioneries, plus Hot Tail and yet another Member of Unusual Size.

Cinderella - an Erotic Fairy Tale - Book Two - Dryadia   - several further tales continuing the revisited story of Cinderella, with even more Fire Breathing, a Forgotten Bacchanalia, some further Warnings concerning Blacksmithies, Hot Tail in the Dark, and yet another Member of Unusual Size. Also, wandering Freckles and truly Radiant lips; fearsome Wizardry and Centaur sex; plus Carnal Greetings and Sexual Carnage. A Triumph of Lust... with Blues and tuna.

Club Latex - Several young Ladies visit a new Fetish Club – which, Unfortunately for them, is Secretly run by a Mad Doctor. Even more Unfortunate is the fact that he is Founder and CEO of Doc Abseil’s Animatronic Orgasmatron Manufacturing Enterprises.

Charlotte the Harlot - A young woman annoys her lover - who, as it turns out, has both Trust issues and Thaumaturgical talents. She finds herself transformed to become a rather nice inflatable - and insatiable - sex doll. Luckily, her best friend sets out to try and meet her needs - resorting variously to frat boys and stallions.

Daddy’s Droid or, Acme Robotics Corporation Alumni - A young woman discovers her father’s new maid is not what she seems - depending on one’s expectations. And then curiosity, predictably, leads to trouble. What Happens when Virtual Reality goes wrong.

Dunyazad - A Victorian Adventure, involving Templars & a Jinniyah. Plus Sex, Violence and Cheap Brandy.

Finally, the author advises that you do NOT read these stories aloud to your children at bedtime – unless they are adults, which conjures images the author refuses to contemplate further.

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