Distant murmurs and the smell of frying bacon roused Tamara in the morning. She threw on a pair of panties and an oversized T–shirt that she sometimes slept in and went over to her dresser. Better brush out this bed head, she thought when she saw what she looked like in the mirror. After grabbing a brush and picking out the loose hair it’d gathered the last time she’d used it, she was going to start working it through her tangled, dark hair. But, before she could even start, the brush slipped from her hand and knocked a picture from her dresser onto the floor. Then, she heard a call from the kitchen.
“Who left the fridge open all night?”
Anita’s voice rang loud and with a hint of amusement. It startled Tamara, and that made her giggle to herself. Busted, she thought. She picked up the picture and stopped to look closely at it. It was one John had taken of her over the previous summer, and she looked cute. But something clicked in her head and she froze, staring at the picture in disbelief. She held it up and compared the picture of her in the bikini to her reflection in the mirror.
Her long, naturally blonde hair was gone—in its place was shoulder–length dark brown hair, and she could tell that the dark brown was almost an illusion of the sunlight that was shining through her window. Her hair was, in reality, almost black, and where there had been blonde highlights a month or so ago she now had dark brown highlights. How does hair get shorter when you don’t get a haircut? Hell, how did all of my hair start growing dark??
Her breasts, too, had undergone a much more drastic change than she’d realized—she’d been just passing off the added cleavage as a late growth spurt, but she now realized that she only dismissed it because it had been so gradual. Now that she thought about it, she had just bought all new bras—D cups, because her C’s were far too tight—and she remembered that when that picture had been taken, she’d been wearing an A cup bra.
Tamara dropped the picture again. How could she have not noticed how much she had changed? She saw this picture every day when she got ready for school or “work.” As if she suddenly didn’t believe her reflection was real, and momentarily forgetting her hands’ unnaturally aphrodisiacal touch, she reached under her shirt to feel her tits. They were real, all right—and her hands, just by gently cupping them, had excited her nipples and made her pussy gush with intense need. She stepped back to her bed and lay down, quickly fingering her slit to answer its demand for attention.
And as she (now suspiciously and grimly) expected, she brought herself off to an acutely satisfying climax much more quickly than was probably normal. As she lay on her bed, half afraid and more than a little panicked about her physical transformations, a disturbing fact bubbled to the surface of her mind: it had something to do with Jeff. The thought appeared out of the blue, but it was very strong.
Her power of suggestion, which had grown from almost nothing to the point where all she had to do was speak into a girl’s ear to get her to do anything she said, manifested itself after the first modeling gig. And she knew how her tongue affected girls when it was too busy to speak, as well. Her hands, alive with a power to turn any woman on like a switch (herself included), seemed to gain that ability after her second shoot. And, there was the fact now, if she so much as touched her seemingly perpetually aroused pussy, every other girl around would squirm and eventually make an excuse to go to the bathroom, or to bed, or anywhere else they could go where they could be alone—and Tamara knew what they did when alone, too. That also started at the Carlinville studio.
I have to call Jeff, she realized. I need to talk to him now.... She didn’t really know why she had to call Jeff, but it was suddenly one of the more important things she knew she had to do. She remembered that he told her after the last shoot that he would be in California until April 15th—tax day. So, she left herself a note to call him, and placed it on her mirror.
Tamara stared at her reflection, running her fingers through her hair and even lightly over her T–shirt. I wonder why nobody else has mentioned my changes... well, it has been gradual... my hair’s been changing... no, falling out! My long blonde hairs fell out, and this dark hair grew... my tits have grown pretty slowly... now that I think about it, Emily did mention how I’d changed... Mom’s been down a few times, and even though we only visited for a little while, she didn’t say anything but she had to have noticed... holy shit, what’s been happening to me, and why haven’t I noticed? Every time she tried to properly explain her physical changes, she would look back to the note she’d just written.
Leave it alone. Jeff will explain it, some part of Tamara told her as she walked into the kitchen.
“Oh there you are, Sleeping Beauty,” Anita called to her friend. “Get enough rest? Fell refreshed? Have a good time last night? Can I get you something for breakfast? Would you like some bacon, eggs, milk, or hamburger? Care to explain why I have to cook all perishable food that was in the refrigerator because you left it open all night? Well, that’s not fair... after all, I did throw out the milk, so you can’t have any of that... but care to explain?”
“Uh... what do you... uhm, Em? Et tu, Emi–lay?” Tamara said, sitting down at the table. Her earlier epiphany about her physical changes faded to the back of her mind.
Emily was blushing deeply from Anita’s “have a good time” quip. But, she was laughing a little bit too, and finally she said, “Sorry, Tammy. I narc’ed on you. She said she wouldn’t feed me if I didn’t say which one of us left the refrigerator open.” Then, Emily pouted in a way that made Tamara want to take her to bed again.
She has no idea how absolutely adorable she is, Tamara thought. “That’s OK, Em. I’ll just have to think of a way to punish you later.”
Emily’s flush deepened, and she covered her mouth to hide a smile. Tamara just coolly smiled at her, and Anita snort–laughed. That sound made Tamara break down and laugh.
“You know what? I don’t care which one of you left it open. But you’re both going to go to Shop ’n Save to buy some food. I know you have the money, Tammy. You models don’t seem to have any problems with getting cash,” Anita said.
“Model?” Emily asked, cocking her head to the side a little.
“Yeah... I, uh, do some... hmmmm, let’s just say... modeling,” Tamara said, raising one eyebrow but not making eye contact with anything other than her plate of bacon and eggs. The accent on the word “modeling” left little doubt about the nature of said modeling.
“Oh... I see,” Emily responded, smirking. “I guess since we have to eat all this meat for breakfast—and I assume lunch, too—you’ll have to think of something to do to burn off these calories so your... modeling... doesn’t suffer.”
“I’m sure I can think of something,” Tamara said, eying Emily suggestively.
“You’re not being coy, if that’s what either of you think,”Anita told the flirts as she finished frying up several hamburgers. “But if it’s exercise you need, then you can walk your butts down to Shop ’n Save and bring back some buns for these burgers. And some pickles and couple of tomatoes. We’re having bacon cheeseburgers for lunch, and probably supper. Get something to go with it.”
“There’s no way in hell I’m walking, Anne. Let me finish my breakfast, and I’ll go to the store. You wanna come, Emily?”
Emily chuckled before she could stop herself, making Anita groan in mock disgust. “Look, enough of that. You two woke me up last night, and it took me awhile to finally get back to sleep. Then, I get up and all the food in the fridge is warm, so I had to start cooking. I’m glad you two got some last night, but you’ve got to focus.”
Tamara and Emily exchanged quizzical glances, and turned to Anita, who was already facing them.
“Focus on... tomatoes... and some kind of potato salad... made with mustard...,” she said. “Focus... on... buns....”
“OK, OK, we get it,” Tamara said. “I will have no problem focusing on your buns, Anne.”
“I can’t stop thinking about them myself,” Emily added.
“I give up. You two are... (sigh) Never mind. Just hurry up and eat,” Anita said, forcing her voice not to break into a giggle.
An hour later, Emily and Tamara were on their way to the grocery store, and Emily finally asked the question that Tamara had known was coming sooner or later.
“So... is... uh, what happened last night... why you and my brother broke up? I mean, you like girls. Don’t know how you hid it before, but why were with John so long if you were a lesbian?”
Tamara thought for a few moments before answering. “Well... I don’t know. I think I was happy with John, but... uh, well, let’s just say I’ve... had my mind opened... at college. Look, I liked John. I think—”
“You think?” Emily asked, her voice sounding harder than she meant. “Sorry, it’s just....”
Tamara waited for the end of Emily’s sentence, and when it didn’t come, she continued. “I was saying, I think that I was just being a good, straight girl, Em. I won’t gross you out with tales of my sexual escapades with your brother—”
“Thanks.”
“... Suffice it to say we had some fun. But when I’m with Kristi, my main girlfriend, or someone else—”
“Someone else? You have a girlfriend? A main girlfriend? I’m sorry, that sounds like I’m judging you... I just didn’t know, that’s all; please—”
“Don’t worry, Em, I know you’re surprised. No, Kristi and I are not exclusive. It’s not a typical arrangement, is it? We’re models and we hang out a lot, and we have sex, but we’re not strict girlfriends. Anyway, like I was saying... uh, where was I?”
“‘When I’m with Kristi...’”
“Oh. Anyway, when I’m with Kristi, or even with you... damn, I don’t know how to describe it. It’s just... right. It gives me more than just a sexual rush, it makes me feel... complete. When I look back, I didn’t get the feeling I get with women when I was with guys. I know it sounds dumb, but it’s the truth.”
“No dumber than me begging you to fuck me last night,” Emily responded. “Hey, is ‘dumber’ even a word?”
For some reason, that struck Tamara as funny and she started to laugh, only stopping when they got to Shop ’n Save. She parked the car, and sobering, she asked, “Emily, tell me. Did you come here just to see if you were a lesbian? CIU is nice, but it’s dull; St. Louis University is more your speed, I bet. Why didn’t you go there with your friends?”
The smile slid from Emily’s face. “I... I don’t know. I don’t think so. Like I told you last night, I’ve been with a few people since Thanksgiving. Most were boys and one was a girl.”
“You said the girl wasn’t as good a kisser, and that the guys couldn’t turn you on like I could,” Tamara reminded her.
“Yeah, but... still... when I was with Amanda, well, she was really into it, and she was a good kisser, but nothing near to you. You light my whole body on fire with a touch, a kiss, a lick... but she didn’t come close. I had a lot more fun with the guys.”
“What?” Tamara asked, genuinely curious. “Well. I guess that makes you bi.”
“Bi? I don’t think so, Tammy. I need a guy. I need that dick in my pussy. It may not be as good as your tongue or fingers... but... I don’t know. Even though you got me off harder than Mike or even Bill ever could, it’s just... well, like you said: it feels right. It makes me feel... complete.”
“So, what should we do for the next few nights? Do you want to go find a college guy to—” Tamara began before getting cut off.
“No! No, Tammy, this weekend, I only want you. And maybe Anne, but I don’t think she’s game. And if that makes me bi, then—”
“I was only kidding, Em,” Tamara said. She opened the door and got out of her car. “C’mon, let’s grab some buns.”
Emily got out of the car and ran around the car, stopping in front Tamara and thrusting her ass out, inviting a squeeze. “You can grab these,” she said while wiggling her ass in front of her lover.
Calling Emily’s bluff, Tamara lightly ran her finger over the small bit of exposed skin between the top of Emily’s jeans and the bottom of her shirt. Emily took a deep breath through her suddenly clinched teeth and froze as the sensations flowed from her small of her back straight down to her crotch.
“Should I grab them now, here in the parking lot?” Tamara whispered into the young woman’s ear. “Do you think you could stop me? Would you?” By that point, she was sliding her hand down the back of Emily’s pants a few inches.
Emily couldn’t even say a word. Her nipples had popped up so hard that there was actually a dull ache to them. If she weren’t frozen by the insanely powerful and all–to–public jolt of pleasure caused by Tamara’s soft touch, Emily would have reached up and squeezed and twisted the ache right out of her nips. But, it didn’t come to that; after toying with her for a few more seconds, Tamara withdrew her hand.
“How... how did... h–how do you do that? It felt so good I couldn’t move, and all you did... was touch me,” Emily stammered when Tamara started walking to the store. “I would have let you... you know... right here... no matter who saw, I would have let you...”
“I know,” Tamara said, turning around. “I just have that effect on the ladies. Want another demonstration now, or should we wait till tonight?”
Emily licked her lips and regained her composure.
“Tonight, then. Now, let’s get some food. And maybe this time, when we go to bed, we can leave the refrigerator out of our little... games,” Emily teased.
Lunch, as expected, consisted of bacon cheeseburgers. And, after dinner (which consisted of even more bacon cheeseburgers), the ladies found themselves doing what most people think women always do when they congregate: they watched TV, sipped wine, and held an informal belching contest. Tamara and Emily had rented a few DVDs while they were out, and as the movies played, the wine flowed more and more freely... as did the burps. When the gastrointestinal mini–Olympics were winding to a close, Emily and Tamara sat together on the couch, and Anita was dozing under a blanket on the recliner, drifting in and out of consciousness. Emily sat down the third empty bottle of wine, and when she stood up to get another one, Tamara stopped her.
“No, Em, that’s fine. We don’t want to be drunk... but a nice buzz doesn’t hurt at all,” a tipsy Tamara said. She was in that magical state between sobriety and intoxication—she knew she shouldn’t drive (not that she wanted to, anyway) or anything like that, but she thought that she was still capable of some level of rational thought. But the wine, having an almost magical flair for dampening inhibitions, did a curious thing to Tamara’s mind when she felt Emily’s hand sneaking into her shorts.
“Let’s go to your room, Tammy,” Emily said, her fingers growing bolder. Almost at that exact moment, Emily clenched her thighs together and wiggled as if something were fingering her pussy at the same time.
The subtle motion did not go unnoticed by Tamara. The alcohol in her system made her a little more daring than normal; mischievously, she removed Emily’s hand from her crotch and stood up, quickly gesturing to Emily to stay seated. Then, Tamara walked over to the couch and whispered something into Anita’s ear. When Anita breathily agreed with a “Yesssssss...,” Tamara removed the blanket covering Anita and sat back down by Emily.
“I told her to sit there, not to get up, and to keep her eyes closed and pretend she’s in her bedroom,” Tamara whispered to Emily.
“What? What makes you think she’ll do that? I mean, why would you even say that—is this some game you two play?” Emily asked, trying to steady her voice. Her words quivered a little despite her efforts though—and Tamara knew her soft words were melting Emily’s self control.
Leaning close, Tamara nibbled on Emily’s earlobe before saying softly, “No games, nothing like that. Just trust me. She’ll do whatever I tell her, if I say it close enough to her ear... just like you’ll do. It’s a trick I know. You believe me.”
“Ohhhhh,” Emily whispered, the warm, moist air of Tamara’s words melting her will. All doubt drained from her face, and she asked, “Do you know any other tricks?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Tamara whispered, still close to Emily’s ear. “You already know about my hands, but I have one more for you. I want you to make me cum... but you can’t touch yourself. You can try, but you’ll find it impossible to reach your pussy until I let you.”
Tamara kicked off her shorts and spread her legs, laying back to give Emily easy access. Emily got naked and knelt half–on and half–off the couch, placing her face right in front of Tamara’s pussy for the second time in as many nights. Right before she took her first lick, Tamara lowered one leg and let it fall over the front of the couch.
“I want you try and keep an eye on Anita. Watch what happens as you get me going. She’ll... whoa!”
Emily had already begun. Tamara’s pussy was wet with arousal, so Emily’s middle finger slid in easily. So did her index finger. The tingle in Emily’s pussy started to make her hips shake until they settled into a grinding motion, but it was when her mouth found Tamara’s clit that the tactile sensation of pure need in her sex started to cloud her mind. She reached between her legs with her free hand... and it stopped, grasping her thigh and going no further.
Tamara was nearing her first orgasm, and Emily was confused. She kept working on Tamara’s cunt, but the closer Tamara got, the more Emily needed to tend to her own fires—but try as she did, her hand would not go near her pussy. She even tried her other hand, to no avail.
When Emily felt Tamara’s hands grab her hair and hold on tight, Emily just relaxed and let Tamara take control of her head’s motions. Tamara rubbed Emily’s face into her pussy, but somehow, Emily was still able to finger her. When Tamara came, she quickly (and raggedly) said, “Look at Anita!”
Between her need to please Tamara and the maddening need that she could not answer between her own legs, Emily was having a hard time concentrating. But, when Tamara turned Emily’s head slightly, she looked over and saw Anita—and what she saw shocked her: Anita’s legs were draped over the sides of the chair, her shorts at the foot of the recliner. Her sex was covered only by a thin blue panty, but it was clear that she’d sneaked her hand inside them and was massaging her clit. Her other hand was playing with her tits through her shirt. Tamara turned Emily’s head back to face her glistening folds again, and Emily continued (and redoubled) her efforts, finally getting Tamara off a few frantic minutes later.
Emily’s face was smeared with Tamara’s wetness. She was glad she’d gotten Tamara off, but she was starting to wonder how strong the tingles between her legs could get before she went crazy; when Tamara came on her face, Emily’s pussy nearly exploded with unsatisfied need. When Tamara let go of Emily’s hair, Emily looked over at Anita, who was furiously fingering herself beneath her panties. Emily rested her head on Tamara’s crotch, as if she were afraid of letting it out of her tongue’s reach.
“Figure it out yet, Em? No? Well, let me demonstrate. Whenever my pussy feels good...,” Tamara said, sliding back so Emily could sit up and observe, “so does hers... and yours. Watch,” she whispered, slowly sliding a finger into herself and closing her eyes as she began to cum again.
A whimper from Anita signaled her climax, and she didn’t stop fingering herself until she shook with another orgasm—one that clearly soaked her panties. But Emily couldn’t get her hands to where they needed to be. Gone were the tingles that had been teasing her; now it felt vaguely like fingers and tongues tormenting her pussy, telling her that she could cum if only she could touch herself.
“Damn... fuck, that’s... unbelievable... Tammy, please, I need to... I need...”
“Yes?” Tamara asked innocently.
“Let me... let me touch my... let me touch myself... I need to cum....”
Tamara lurched forward, pushing a surprised Emily back onto the arm of the couch. She held her finger up to Emily’s mouth and let her lick it clean, and then used it to slowly trace a meandering line from her mouth to her pussy. Every inch of skin Tamara touched lit up with sexual pleasure, and a rippling wave of arousal trailed the finger all the way down to its target: Emily’s pussy. And when Tamara’s fingers entered Emily, she came so hard she nearly passed out. But, she managed not to scream. Keeping that scream inside took all of her strength, but she didn’t want to chance waking up Anita.
“This is our little secret, Emily,” Tamara whispered to the panting, recovering girl. “You can’t tell anyone, ever. Now, I’m going to bed. Why don’t you cover Anita back up, and join me. Oh, and you can touch yourself again.” Tamara got up and was going to go straight to her room, but decided to watch Emily finger herself as she made her way to the recliner where Anita lay masturbating. It was such an amusing and erotic sight that Tamara let one of her own fingers stir her own sex.
Emily awkwardly threw the blanket over Anita with her free hand and scurried back to Tamara, kissing her all the way to the bedroom. Emily came when they finally got into the room—thanks to Tamara’s well–placed and surprisingly slippery finger gently probing about one knuckle deep in her anus. To both girls, the rest of the night was something of a blur. A nice, slightly drunk, insanely erotic blur. At some point, Tamara’s toys were brought out and lubed. And by the time they passed out, they weren’t sure there was any sex act known to mankind (or womankind) that as deprived and sexually uncontrolled as what they’d just experienced. Even so, they knew that if they only had the energy, they would do it all night long.
The trio spent much of Sunday cruising around town and shopping, once Anita’s hangover faded. She was at a loss to explain how she fell asleep on the chair in the living room, but she seemed thankful that someone covered her up. Later that evening, Emily got a call. Her friends who were in St. Louis had decided to leave earlier th an expected and would pick her up Tuesday morning, cutting her visit one night shorter than she had wanted.
All three ladies were pretty worn out that night and Emily was clearly more tired than Tamara and Anita, so when Emily lay down on the couch, Tamara told her to get some sleep—she’d need it for the day ahead. She had to get a card signed by four professors, after all. But, Tamara did promise to give her a goodbye present she’d never forget Monday night. And judging by the look on Emily’s face as her friends (who arrived only two hours after she and Tamara had finally concluded their night–long sex marathon) picked her up to take her back home to Chicago, Tamara figured that she’d made good on her promise.
“Fucking tax day,” moaned Tamara when she saw the mass of people standing in line in front of the large (and until tax season, mostly empty) building that served as Jeff’s photo studio. Three tax firms had set up temporary offices to assist the good people of central Illinois in the tricky preparation of taxes that involved farm income and deductions for things that would make an auditor’s head hurt.
This, of course, meant that Tamara had to weave her way through lines just to get in the door. It didn’t matter to most of the people in the lines that she wasn’t going into the building for taxes. Some of them were holding brief cases (and even shoe boxes) full of receipts and forms and had been waiting for an hour, and they weren’t about to let a large–chested woman with raven black hair and a perfect face through the line ahead of them. All were equal on this day. Beautiful, ugly, thin, fat, rich, poor, executives, and farmers—it didn’t matter to Uncle Sam.
Tamara actually heard one woman in her late 40’s or early 50’s near the door say to her apparent husband, “Big–Tit Black Hair Barbie can just wait with the rest of us.” That remark dashed away the last of Tamara’s patience, and she decided that in order to get inside the building before next tax day, she’d have to take matters into her own hands. Lightly and discretely touching the woman’s neck, she waited for her victim to melt with what had to be more arousal than she’d felt for 20 years.
The woman’s nipples popped visibly beneath her top, and when she finally started to tremble a little, Tamara whispered to her, “Please concentrate on getting your husband to fuck your brains out three times a week, and move out of my way. Oh, and I hear he likes blow jobs first thing in the morning... every morning. Wake him up with them every day you can.” Tamara then broke contact, and the older woman moved aside to “accidentally” brush her hand up against her husband’s crotch. A few people in line noticed and a couple of them even stared at the woman who was now openly rubbing her husband’s manhood through his jeans. Tamara used this distraction to slip inside the building, and she immediately went to the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor.
Checking her compact mirror after everybody got off at the third floor (the tax companies had set up shops on floors one, two, and three), she tried to mentally prove for the millionth time what she already knew to be true. “Jeff better have a good explanation for the hair. And the tits. And my... damn, and my hands, mouth, pussy, pubic hair... or lack thereof,” she mumbled to herself, remembering that she now had only a thin “landing strip” of hair above her snatch.
She didn’t know how she was going to confront him, or if even if she should; after all, if he was responsible for the changes in her body, what else could he do to her? And, why was she so damn sure it was him in the first place? That really bothered her more than the fact that she only recently recognized the changes in her body as somehow unnatural. She pushed those thoughts to the back of her head as best she could as the door opened and she stepped onto the top floor of the building.
What she saw in front of the elevator doors both surprised her and forced a few pieces of a puzzle she was barely aware of to suddenly fall together: Wendy. Wendy is part of this? What the hell is going on?
Wendy looked pretty much the same as Tamara remembered from their last gig together, although her breasts seemed a little bigger. And while she couldn’t be sure, she didn’t remember Wendy’s hair being that particular shade of red. Before Tamara could say anything (“What are you doing here, Jeff said this was a private meeting!” came to her mind), Wendy did a turn and showed off her body, making sure to run her hands through her hair.
“Don’t you just love this shade! It’s natural, too. I know you’re confused, but Jeff made everything make sense... Oh, and check this out...,” Wendy said, sliding her hand into her shorts. Tamara was going to ask her what she was doing, but she saw Wendy’s hand moving over her pussy through her shorts and felt a sharp tingling in her own pussy. Now that she knew what was going on, she thought it was a curious sensation; it was a little like when Kristi fingered her, but the feeling was a little more fuzzy and vague. Whatever it was, it made Tamara’s pussy drip with arousal.
“So... that’s what it... mmmmm, feels like...,” Tamara whispered, not meaning to say anything out loud at all. She rocked her hips and wiggled a little as the feeling grew.
Wendy just winked at her, and without withdrawing her hand from her shorts, she said, “Yeah, that’s what it feels like. I’ve been diddling myself in public for a few weeks, just to watch the girls react. This is going to be soooo fucking cool... mmmmmm, oh yeah, Jeff’s down the hall. Go on, I’ll join you all in little while.”
Tamara had already started to carefully (as her pussy felt like it was being tickled with hot, invisible feathers) walk past Wendy before she noticed the “you all” part. ‘Join you all?’ What does she mean, ‘you all?’ Jeff said he wanted me to come by myself... damn, speaking of ‘cum,’ I wish Wendy would stop that... damn, I need to... uh, find Kristi....
When she opened the door to the studio that was at the end of the hall that Wendy was “guarding,” she saw Kristi. She was sitting on a nice, comfortable–looking chair, and on her lap was Julie, the girl with the perfect breasts who had been with Tamara on her second modeling gig. Julie’s legs were spread wide and she reclined back onto Kristi, who was busy working Julie’s hairless pussy and clit. And judging by the way Julie was moving and moaning, and by her own pussy’s cries for attention, Tamara had a feeling that Julie was about to get off.
“Alright, ladies, that’ll do,” a male voice that Tamara knew to be Jeff’s announced.
Immediately, Kristi’s body lurched and spasmed so hard and intensely that she threw the orgasming Julie from her lap onto the floor. Tamara, who experienced a little orgasm herself, was going to ask if Kristi was OK, but a quick look at the woman’s sexually spent and barely conscious face told her that her non–exclusive girlfriend had just cum so hard that she probably wasn’t really aware of the fact that she’d just thrown Julie to the floor. Julie, on the other hand, rolled over to her back and seemed all too happy to be on the floor. Idly, and with her eyes closed, she ran her hands over her body and moaned softly.
“Oooooh. Kristi, you must be more careful,” Jeff said as he seemingly appeared from out of nowhere. “Since Julie is pretty much gone, why don’t you be a dear and fetch Wendy for me, OK?” Immediately, Kristi came to her senses enough to scamper to the door in search of Wendy.
The studio space was fairly empty (even the privacy curtains for the “changing rooms” had been taken down) and there was not really any place where a person to hide, but Tamara could have sworn that Jeff had not been just standing there a moment ago. She was going to ask him about that, and about everything else that had been happening that she was sure he was responsible for, but he lifted his hand and she could not speak. When Kristi left the room, he walked over to where two sofas were arranged on the far side of the room. Tamara followed, and took a seat after he did. She hadn’t seen the sofas either, but of more concern was the fact that she was walking even though her mind was ordering her legs to stand still.
“OK, Tammy. I know you’re pretty confused as to what’s going on, even though you’ve pretty much figured it out. You were set to figure it out once you realized how much you’d changed... to be honest, I was starting to worry.”
Cryptic, Tamara thought. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea....
“Maybe it wasn’t a good idea, but that’s not important. OK, where to begin... yes, your body has changed—your tits are much larger and your hair, once blonde and past the middle of your back, is black and barely shoulder–length. You can light the desires of any woman to supernova level with a few touches, and when your vagina is even slightly stimulated, other girls in the room seem to feel it. Did I leave anything out?”
A loud door slam startled Tamara, but she didn’t turn around. Instead, she said, “Well... there’s the fact that if I kiss or... uhm, lick a girl, she melts like butter. And, a girl will do whatever I say, if I whisper into her ear.”
Jeff snapped his finger and nodded in concession. Laughing a little, he said, “Yep, you got me there. Heh, the ol’ mouth routine. One of my first tricks, and an easy one to teach a girl. Funny, I remembered doing that to Wendy, Julie, and Kristi... but for some reason, I forgot about you. Amazing, seeing as how you’ve come so far.”
“What do you mean, I’ve ‘come so far?’ And what the hell has been going on?” Tamara yelled. “Look at me! I didn’t used to have these tits! And my hair—how do you go from natural blond locks to short black hair, without a single haircut or dye?! I don’t know how, but I know you’re... you’re... ooooooh, behind...” Tamara’s voice died down; with Wendy and Julie kissing opposite sides of her neck and her shoulders, and Kristi whispering in her ear to calm down, Tamara’s fight dissolved into a puddle of mild concern, a strange curiosity, and instant arousal.
“That’s more like it. Yes, I’m behind ‘it.’ I’ve been... tinkering... with you. More accurately, I’ve been preparing you. When I first saw you, I saw a lot of potential for my little business. See, an old friend of mine told me that there were things that you could do in California or New York that you couldn’t get away with in a wholesome place like... heh, guess which random Midwestern state he mentioned.”
“Mmmmm... Ill... Illinois...?” Tamara moaned. Her tormentors had not stopped their light oral caresses.
“Yes! Illinois. ‘You can’t get away with it in Illinois,’ he told me, and then he offered my a huge chunk of his video distribution business as a bet. It’s easier in California, you see. For one thing, you don’t have to gradually change people—they come off the bus from places like this, and they invariably end up in porn. You can literally take them aside after they’ve done a few low–budget ‘amateur’ videos, rework their body and attitude in a single afternoon, and boom! Instant starlet. Nobody even asks questions anymore. Hell, so many women do it without our help, we don’t even have to worry about getting caught.
“Yeah, some of the bitches actually catch on to the fact that things aren’t on the up–and–up and go looking for guys who can do the stuff I can do when one of their porno friends comes home one night with a rack she didn’t go to the set with. But I faced a special challenge here: nice college girls don’t choose a school in fucking Springfield, Illinois so they can get boob jobs and go into porn. No, here, I had to ease you all in, and do it under the radar so nobody would notice what I was doing. And here we are. Ladies, leave her alone for a few minutes. We need to talk business. Go entertain yourselves.”
The three girls left Tamara and Jeff to talk. Jeff, though, seemed to be done talking for the moment, so Tamara did the first thing that came to mind: she stood up and removed her clothes, and not in an erotic manner either. Then, she did a slow turn, and finally she sat back down. Interestingly, she was not at all concerned that she was sitting naked in front of a man who had just told her that he had been reworking her body. But, one particular detail did bother her, so she asked about it.
“OK, how did you do... this,” she said, her hands holding up her tits, “to me?” The touch put her arousal into overdrive, but she mastered it so she could talk. “And... now that I think of it, why am I so sure it’s you in the first place? Why do I believe you? I’m taking this pretty easy....” Tamara trailed off, curious as to why she was so indifferent to the idea of someone reshaping her from a stick–thin girl into a wet dream.
“Well, I didn’t want to take forever trying to prove to you that I can do boob jobs with my mind, so I’m making you believe and accept it. As for ‘how,’ though...,” Jeff said, repeating her question as if he wasn’t quite sure she’d asked it. “Weird. Julie, Wendy, and Kristi didn’t ask about how I did it. Then again, I was in their heads a lot. Well, ‘how.’ Hmmmm... I guess I can’t really explain how I do what I do. I just do it. I reach out and change things. Playing with your brain isn’t as easy as it sounds, but it’s nothing compared to changing your body—much less doing so gradually. But, controlling minds is just something most of us porn mongers do. Hell, if it weren’t for some annoying regulations, we’d do it to everybody who had any potential for looking good naked on camera.
“But that’s beside the point. The fact is this: you’re here, and my little quartet is ready to start a revolution in porn. See, you’re going to be a star. I’ve created you for this. You, Julie, Wendy, and your special friend Kristi are going to star in a series of videos in which you go around with a small camera crew—say, one or two people—and seduce cute, straight women. What do you say?”
As Jeff said that, Kristi brought what appeared to be a multi–page contract clamped to a clip board. A pen dangling from a string was attached to the clip board, and Kristi set it on the couch next to Tamara.
“Well... wait a minute,” Tamara said, trying to focus on what was being suggested. At the suggestion of seducing straight women, her whole body perked up. But, that could have also been due to the action Julie and Wendy were enjoying off in some unlit part of the loft. Then again... this does sound... intriguing. I’ve done this on my own a few times... and I’ve been naked and worse in front of the camera several times. Is there seriously anything to lose? I’ll still have my business degree....
No. I can’t do this, it’s crazy... but why do I want to? Why am I even considering this?
“Look, Tammy. I know it’s a little strange to be a business student, sign a contract to go into porn, and then graduate before making your first movie. But think. You can always use your degree when our contract is over in five years. I can even give you a few physical tweaks so nobody will recognize you. In the meantime, you will make shitloads of money—just look at that contract. People pay top dollar to see straight girls get bagged by lesbians. With me around, you will not ever have to worry about—”
“Wait. If you can make people do whatever you want, why do you need me? And why do my hands... my mouth...” Tamara said, her speech losing steam as she realized she didn’t even know how to ask such an insane question. Why don’t I just ask why he gave me my ‘magical powers?’ she thought.
“I gave you your ‘magical powers,’” he said, answering her thought, “because... well, let’s just say that real is always better than fake, and it’s easy to give someone some limited mind control power, as long as you keep it simple and don’t allow them to turn it on, off, or target it. With your ‘powers’ always on and begging to be used, you got to practice your... uhm, technique... on any pretty thing that caught your eye, so you’re really experienced in the sack.
“Hell, that’s even the reason why I changed you and the girls so slowly, even though I was more direct with the others. You grew into your looks and attitudes toward sex; they weren’t just forced on you all at once. It’s natural now, real. You don’t have to act. Don’t get me started on porn star acting... damn, you’d think there were some things mind controllers could fix!
“Besides, I didn’t want to make you like being in porn. It’s much better for everybody when you actually love it, which you do. You never hesitated to sign on for another shoot, no matter how hard–core it got. In fact, the only thing I’m doing now is keeping you here until you decide, and keeping you calm. You actually find this proposal so intriguing that you’re considering going along with it.”
Tamara was now reading the contract. She held the pen in one hand, amazed she was about to throw away her quiet, respectable life for a career in porn, albeit a brief one. But before she signed, she said, “Can I ask you a question?”
“Shoot,” Jeff said.
“What if I refuse?”
“Then I restore your body to what it was, and change you from lesbian to straight.”
That prospect chilled Tamara to the bone—she loved her new body but could live without it. But life as a straight woman? No fucking way....
“OK... but if you can control my mind, why are you letting me read this? Why haven’t I just signed this and started fucking your brains out or something?”
“To the first part, it’s all about regulations,” Jeff said. “There are people who watch what we pornographers do, and there are even worse people watching what us mind controllers do. So, we have to be careful not to do anything to draw much ire from group B, because they’ll draw the attention of group A, and group D to get involved... and that’s BAD. This is your decision, believe it or not. I already have a warning on my record, so I can do only so much to persuade you.
“As to why you’re not fucking my brains out—well, you’re a lesbian. I don’t fuck lesbians, ‘cause they don’t fuck me. I have no problems getting women to fuck me anyway.”
“Fair enough,” Tamara said, shaking (in excitement or nervousness; she wasn’t sure which) as she signed the dotted line. He could still make me do it, even if I didn’t want to... might as well make the best of it... and it does sound fun... and it could be much worse, she thought. “Five years. But, I’m not just signing this for the money, or for the short term aspect of the job.”
“Let me guess—you want to get some straight girls into bed with you, right? That is already being arranged; we’re going to get you a girlfriend but your first meeting will be a re–enact—”
“Well, that’s part of it,” Tamara interrupted. “But mainly, because I think you could just make me do this anyway. Also, because I want to do this as a thank–you.”
“What, for the tits?”
“No, not for the tits. Well, not just for the tits—I love them. But, it’s a thank–you for not making me straight. I don’t want to be straight, and I know you could have made tons of money with a girl who did guys.”
Jeff took the clipboard and smiled. “Making sure you stayed a lesbian was my primary concern, Tamara. And welcome to the group.” Tamara saw something strange in that smile, as if he knew something she didn’t, but it faded and she let it go. “Now,” Jeff added, “it’s time to get you your first girlfriend. I’m trying to work the word ‘girlfriend’ into the title, like ‘Straight Girlfriends’ or something. We’re going to re–enact a little meeting between you and that delicious Anita chick I set you up with....”
“Actually, I have someone else in mind,” Tamara said. “Anita’s not like that, and I don’t want—”
“Really,” Jeff interrupted, suddenly interested. “She should be ‘like that’ by now, thanks to you. Are you’re sure you don’t want Anita? I mean, wow. She’s hot, and I had you set up to go after any girl you liked, if you had an opportunity... and Anita was primed to give you some opportunities! Shit, I guess I could have kept a closer eye on your heads. By now, I expected you two to be an item, girlfriends with a very healthy sex life.”
“Actually,” Tamara said, “Kristi’s been doing good in that department. But there is one special girl. My first, in a way. But not Anita—I just want to be her friend.”
Jeff’s expression was priceless; saying it was one of surprise would have been an understatement worthy of criminal prosecution. “Well, that’s... damn. I never expected to hear that. I was about to have some cameras set up in your apartment to capture the action. That’s what I get for being too subtle and not checking up on things.”
“You haven’t asked me about the one I do have in mind,” Tamara said, smirking. She and Jeff then began planning her first porn scene for the American market, but halfway through, they both realized that she didn’t have a proper name. That was fixed soon enough, though, and the impromptu planning session went forward.
Nervously, a girl with scarlet hair and dark eyeshadow glanced around the library. She spent most of her time in the stacks, and much of that time was waiting for something to happen. The goth coed spotted a woman with light brown hair wearing sweat pants, and waited to make eye contact. Then she turned around, deliberately dropping her pen and bending at the waist to pick it up. She knew that her leather mini would not completely cover her crotch, and that her panties—tightly encasing her sex—would be clearly visible, if the girl cared to look.
But she didn’t. In fact, she went to the next row. Not even the right color sweat pants, she thought. Way to go, Tina. She probably thinks you’re a dyke... well, maybe she’s half–right..., she thought. Inside, she knew it was not likely that she’d be able to get that one girl, the one who she only met once and never saw again, to rape her like she did that one day. The odds against it were astronomical, but that didn’t stop her from trying three or four (and sometimes five) times a week.
On reflection, she knew that “rape” was probably too strong a word, but the roughness of the encounter (that she had begged for) didn’t lend itself to any other word easily. For some reason, just letting go and allowing herself to go along with whatever her “attacker” wanted. In all her trysts since she was practically raped in the secluded aisles of books, she’d had her share men and women, but none who could muster the intensity and control over her that she’d craved since that one fingerbang she received from a cute girl in sweat pants with dirty–blonde hair. Even if they were capable of causing her the pain she desired, it was never as sweetly hot as it was with a girl she only knew as “Tammy.”
Memories of that day started to flow in her head, as they often did when she was trying to seduce someone into a rough afternoon of sex. Before she realized it, tiny tingles tickled Tina’s twat, and she briefly considered making her way to the restroom to answer the need between her legs that was growing second by second. It wasn’t a serious idea, but before long, she wished she’d actually followed through with the plan. The itch was undeniable and clearly getting stronger. Soon, she found it hard to walk, and she stopped right at the middle of the long bookshelf, holding it for support.
An eerie feeling washed over her—the feeling she always got when someone was watching her. She knew she probably looked like she was sick, so she tried to straight up and walk, but at that moment a dull aching desire exploded from her pussy and spread over her chest and face, making her blush and sweat. Her panties soaked, she leaned forward and knocked some books off the shelf. She picked them up but before she could put them back on the shelf, two hands wrapped around her body, just under her halter top, and came to rest on her belly.
The sensation of warm jolts of pleasure that almost hummed from the hands was unmistakable; even though it’d been months since she’d felt those hands playing on her flesh, she knew exactly to whom they belonged. Tina dropped the books, fell back into Tamara’s arms, and presented her neck, hoping for a not–so–playful bite. When it came, Tina whispered, “Harder, haaarder... leave a fuckin’ mark... god damn...,” barely able to control her voice.
“Remember me?” came the whisper like no other. Sex leaked into Tina’s head from the ear that picked up the words. Tamara looked at the bright red teeth marks she’d just left—she hadn’t meant to clamp down so hard, but Tina’s words—and her very body language—seemed to demand a long, hard bite.
“Yessssssssssss...,” Tina hissed. “Please... do what you... did....”
“Oh, we’re going to do more than that, honey. The library’s empty—I made sure of that. It’s just you, me, and my friend Kristi here with the camera. You don’t mind helping me make a little video, do you? No, you don’t. Of course not. You’ll even get a tape you can show somebody, and maybe then they’ll give you what you need,” Tamara said quietly into the girl’s ear.
Tina didn’t ask how Tamara knew about what she’d tried to get from the people she’d been with since her last time with Tamara. It didn’t matter. Everything she’d been fantasizing about was right here, holding her. She could even feel Tamara’s full breasts pressing into her back, and this time she was going to do more than finger her.
As quickly as she could, Tina spun around and grabbed two fistfuls of black hair. She stopped for a second. Wasn’t Tammy’s hair dirty blond, or something? Well, so what—it’s not like I was born with bright red hair. Mentally shrugging at the hair color change, and knowing that she looked now into the face of her sexual tormentor for the first time, Tina leaned in and kissed Tamara. Hard. Very hard. Before it was over, Tina had cum from Tamara’s almost magical oral talents... and Tina bit Tamara’s lower lip and held on to it with her teeth as she pulled away, giving Tamara her best “I like it rough” look.
If she doesn’t get that hint, then maybe I was mist... ooooooooh, fuck, damn, that’s it, Tina thought as Tamara’s hands went under her shirt, found her nipples (Tina rarely wore bras since the day that changed her from a calm goth student into a mild nymphomaniac with a taste for hard sex), and twisted them hard. A tear slid down Tina’s cheek as she came again.
“If you let go of my hair, I’ll even use my tongue on you this time,” Tamara told Tina, who had not yet let go. Tina let go of her hair, but not before knocking Tamara down to the ground and mounting her. Tamara, surprised, tried to sit up, but that only allowed Tina to quickly pull her shirt off. With that done, Tina slid up from Tamara’s hips to her stomach to prevent her from sitting up again. Then, she practically tore her own shirt off.
After a brief groping session and some more kissing, Tina turned around and focused her attention on Tamara’s blue jeans, never giving Tamara a chance to get up. They were practically painted on, but thankfully for Tina, the jeans were button–fly and somewhat easy to start to remove. She licked her lips when she saw that Tamara was not wearing panties. The only a thing beneath those pants was a thin strip of pubic hair and a delicious looking pussy.
Tamara reached up and unzipped the leather mini, and Tina stood up so she could take off Tamara’s shoes and allow her glorified loincloth to fall to the floor. She kicked it and her panties off and got back down on her knees, positioning her wet cunt over Tamara’s face. She had worked Tamara’s pants down to her knees when she first felt Tamara’s mouth and tongue start kissing and licking her nether region, and she gave up on the struggle with the tight jeans, opting instead to dive mouth–first onto Tamara’s slit.
Tamara kicked her legs to work the pants down while slowly licking Tina’s inner thighs and outer pussy. A few times, she’d spank Tina hard enough to leave her ass red. She guessed that it was working for Tina, as every slap drove her to eat her out more and more frantically. Tina clearly had some practice, and she brought Tamara off with little trouble.
But Tina was having trouble getting off. The hands that beat raw heat into her bottom contrasted nicely with the soft, wet pleasure that bathed the skin that was painfully close to her cunt. And, the tingling from before had returned with a vengeance. When Tamara finally worked her jeans off, Tina grasped each leg and held them open to give her better access to Tamara’s pussy. The harder she worked on Tamara’s sex, the more the odd sensation in her own grew—and she hoped that Tamara would not tease her much longer, or she’d just have to grind her pussy into the pretty girl’s little face.
Then several things happened in Tina’s crotch at once. First, a finger slid over and lightly rested on her asshole. Another finger slid down and plunged into her cunt. And finally, Tamara’s lips kissed and then sucked Tina’s clit. The orgasm was instantaneous, intense, and wet, but Tamara was far from done. Another finger went into her pussy. And another. Tamara rubbed her brown eye and fucked her pussy with three fingers while sucking on Tina’s clit, and Tina was so awash with pleasure that she could scarcely control herself—she focused all her attention on keeping her ass right where it was.
“More! Use more fingers... fuck, yeah, fuck my tight cunt... fuck!!” Tina yelled, taking her mouth off of Tamara’s sex. Another finger was added, and she felt full—the four fingers stretched her in a deliciously painful way, and she started to moan and scream as another orgasm approached. She didn’t notice Tamara removing her finger from her asshole, but she sure noticed when it was replaced—wet and ready to penetrate her tightest hole.
And when it did, she saw stars. It was the release she needed. Once she stopped screaming and thrashing her head around, she got back to business and slid a finger into Tamara. She found Tamara’s G–spot after a few moments and used a trick another girl had taught her. When Tamara responded by cumming all over Tina’s hand, Tamara suggested another position.
The sex lasted for over two hours. Tina caught a glimpse of the girl who she knew must have been Kristi a few times, but paid her no mind. After about a half–dozen positions, some of which made her legs hurt, the two lovers just lay on the floor amid the books, kissing and almost cuddling. Tamara’s enhanced libido was sated, and Tina was a little sore—but she wouldn’t have it any other way. After a brief conversation with Tamara and Kristi, Tina agreed that it was OK to sign consent to allow her “scene” to be put in a sort–of “girls gone crazy” type of video. And this time, Tina finally got to formally introduce herself to the woman who had just fucked her three ways from Sunday.
“OK, I’ll sign the consent form... hell, with you two whispering in my ear and necking with me while you explain it, how can I refuse? Oh... and my name’s Tina Brown. I don’t remember your name,” she said, debating on whether or not to shake her hand. It seemed too formal after what they’d just done.
“No, you don’t know my name, but you clearly remember me. I’m Tammy, but my friends call me Tamara.”
“OK... uh, ‘Tamara?’ Isn’t that long for ‘Tammy? Is it a stage name?” Tina was curious about the reverse nickname.
Tamara smiled. “Yeah, something like that. Just remember the name Tamara Divine. You were my first,” she said, and as she and Kristi left, she added, “and baby, I’ll always, always remember you, honey.”
Tina, alone in the library, suddenly realized that the library should be full of people. Well sexed and a little creeped out by the fact that the library was abandoned for no apparent reason (even the librarian was missing), Tina got dressed walked out of the building and to her dorm. On the way, she met a man who suggested that she would do well to dye her hair black and remove her lip piercing so few people would recognize her from the video. He was right, and she knew it as soon as he made the suggestion. Tina loved her red hair, but black matched her wardrobe just as well. She shook his hand, kissed him, and went to the store to buy the dye.
There’s shit on TV tonight, Tina thought as she scanned through the channels after she put her five–year–old son to bed. Her husband was going to be home soon, and his sister was even going to come over and stay the night—that meant she and Kevin could go out. That was rare after the kid was born. Then, while scanning the news channels, she saw a face she could never forget. It was Tamara’s.
The famous Tamara Divine was giving an interview on a mainstream cable news network about how she broke into porn, and she recounted the tale (censoring the fun bits, of course) of the cute goth girl who was her first not once, but twice, in a library somewhere in Illinois. The rest of the interview was as awkward as you’d expect for a mainstream, respectable man’s interview of a woman who fucks other women on camera for money.
Topics such as the rarely seen public acceptance of a porn star as a genuine celebrity, her legal battle to have her marriage to long–time lover Anita Divine recognized in her home state (she even promised to go further into that little love story on her next appearance on the show next month), and her opinion on if porn degraded women or not were brought up by the host in an effort to make it something other than a “Hey look, we have a porn star on our program!” show. When the boring anchorman finally ran out of things to ask about, he signed off.
Tamara, almost on cue, added, “And this one is for you, Tina. Thanks for the memories.” Then she blew a kiss to the camera. Tina’s jaw dropped. I bet every woman named Tina just got wet, she thought.
The two–time lovers had managed to email each other every now and then to keep in touch, but she couldn’t remember Tamara mentioning any upcoming interviews. A few seconds after the public shout–out, Tina laughed softly and shook her head in disbelief. That little bit of public gratitude put her in a playful mood, and she decided that she would pick up a couple of college girls to share with Kevin for the evening. He’d been working a lot of overtime, and college girls were one of those few things they could both enjoy doing together.
Right before she made up her mind on which motel to take them to, Jennifer, Kevin’s sister, arrived to watch Kevin Jr. overnight. Using her key to get in the apartment, like she usually did, Jennifer walked into the living room wearing painted–on jeans and a tight camisole that managed to make her smallish tits look a little larger than they really were... and her nipples were clearly hard beneath the thin fabric. Maybe it was because of the cold outside, but Tina didn’t care.
I’ll start with an appetizer, Tina mused as she reached for her sister–in–law’s body. Kevin won’t know... I’ll be done before he gets back. I always am. She knew how her very touch was enough to melt any woman’s inhibitions. A few softly whispered commands later, Jennifer was naked and in Tina’s and Kevin’s bedroom, ready to serve her secret Mistress. Tina kissed her sister–in–law, and when her enchanted mouth and tongue drove Jennifer to her first climax of the evening, she wondered if she should take Tamara up on the message she’d sent a month ago—the message in which she said that she wanted to meet somewhere and catch up on life, sex, and everything.
Riding Jennifer’s face, Tina decided she would take Tamara up on the offer. After all, she thought, Tamara will be putty in my hands; and if that’s not enough, I can kiss and whisper her into submission, like I did with Jennifer here. Fuck it... I’ll email her tomorrow.
I wonder if she knows what’s going to hit her.
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