Hunny
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*.-*.=* ! DiScLaImEr ! *=.*-.*
1. Neither Ed Miller nor XXXecil are actually associated with this
story in any way. They are therefore quite fortunate. Their style of
story did, however, serve as inspiration to write this dreadful
heathen smut. Thanks, you two!
2. This story is SEXY! So if you're not allowed to be exposed to
sexiness yet, or more pointedly your parents would yell at lots of
people if they caught you exposing yourself to sexiness, GO AWAY. On
the other hand (the one that's not wanking), if your parents have
already come home and caught you having sex on the sofa, you can
probably get away with reading this, so CUM ON IN! Did you see what
I did there? Did you? OK. Good.
3. This story is also WEIRD! If you think sex, even freaky gender-
bending sex, should remain between a man and a woman, GO AWAY! If
you don't feel that "9 1/2 Weeks" is a good date movie: GO AWAY! How
about "Eraserhead"? GO AWAY! Remember your childhood fantasies,
where your favorite plush toy came to life and woke you from your
peaceful dreams for some midnight sodomy? GO AWAY.
4. If you post this somewhere else and try to take credit for
writing it... good god, why would you want to do a thing like that?
More power to you when the FBI carts you away instead! MWA HA HA HA
HA HA!
5. Don't post this on any site that doesn't allow anyone to read the
stories, for free. Because let's be realistic here, no one wants to
read this, and no one to the -1st power wants to PAY to read it.
6. Top hat on animal legs.
*.-*.=* ! dIsClAiMeR ! *=.*-.*
HUNNY
by Anathema
AH, but the woods are beautiful in May, aren't they? Well, around
here they certainly are, especially the grand forest just outside
the city. This forest that seems to stretch forever toward the
mountains, full of lush pine growth and the lovely, intermittent
clusters of maple and oak... I think there's some beech in the
forest too. But you already know about this. I should explain the
stuff that's not so obvious, that's much harder to figure out. I
should explain how all this began.
- I -
ALL this began on a day in May, why yes, one just like this one, in
these beautiful woods, a year ago. It's amazing how time flies,
especially after an experience like that. Anyway, I was enjoying one
of my marathon hikes, where I'd park at the edge of the forest and
then just wander the trails for hours, alone in the peaceful quiet.
I never had a specific goal in mind, and I rarely - if ever -
followed the exact same path, either going in or coming back. As you
might expect, this often took hours, and usually the entire day,
which is why I only went on these excursions on weekends.
Well, that's not entirely true. Sometimes I'd go in the middle of
the week, savoring the joy of seeing zero bars of service on my cell
phone screen. When I finally got back to my truck and saw the deluge
of missed calls, I would feel content in the excuse that I'd "had no
service all day long." Ah, I was self-employed, you see; freelance
graphic design, some print stuff, some web design, a few drops of
Flash animation here or there. Nothing important. No, nothing you'd
recognize, don't flatter me. But it did give me the schedule
flexibility that I could disappear for a little bit whenever I
wanted without endangering my livelihood.
Anyway. So on this particular May day, as I engaged in my
particularly favorite pastime of wandering the woods at the edge of
the city, I chanced upon a new trail. This was not unusual; the
forest is truly grand in scale, and well-known for having numerous
little twists and turns and hidden spots for diligent hikers to
find. For casual explorers like me, stumbling upon a path you hadn't
seen before was an absolute treat, promising a whole new part of the
forest to discover.
The path was obviously not used very often. It was largely overgrown
and at first I was tempted to dismiss it as a one-time excursion by
some teenagers or something, which had just trampled the tall
grasses a bit. But no, the more I looked at it the more it became
clear that at one point some time ago the undergrowth had been
cleared away and tamped down firmly; most of the overgrowth was
encroaching from the sides of the trail, not growing up through the
dirt. What's more, the remnants of a wooden signpost remained,
though thoroughly rotted-out and faded beyond legibility. I still
have no idea what the sign said originally, but I expect it was
likely some sort of warning.
Standing at the edge of this new path, I finally took notice of the
shift in lighting; what had started as a bright, blue, clear, sunny
day had turned quite ominously gray and overcast in the course of my
several hours hiking. It looked very much like it might begin
raining in due time. I glanced over my shoulder at the trail behind
me, knowing that, responsibly, I should turn back now. It was unwise
to risk being caught in a rainstorm in the middle of the forest. On
the other hand... I never kept track of exactly which trails I went
down. It could take me years to find this spot again, if I ever did.
That was simply too much for the adventurer in me, and I shrugged my
shoulders defiantly and began brushing the encroaching plants out of
my way as I embarked down this new, exciting path.
- II -
THIS proved to be the strangest hiking experience I've ever had. As
I continued down the trail, the tall trees around me thinned more
and more and I found myself approaching a lush green clearing, I'd
even call it a meadow, apparently nestled somewhere in the forest.
More oddly, as I walked down the path the plant life around me
gradually transitioned from drab, functional grasses, ferns, and the
like into uncharacteristically bright and colorful flowering plants.
From there the flowers became larger and even brighter, and the
grasses and leaves greener and greener, until the surroundings began
to feel outright psychedelic.
Naturally this only encouraged me to carry on further, and I
excitedly broke out of the trail, fenced-in by tall flora on either
side, into the expansive meadow, with much shorter (but equally
large and vibrant) flowers and grasses. A bright blue stream burbled
right through the middle of the meadow with a pleasant, happy
cadence to its flow. I furrowed my brows a bit at the vibrant blue
of the water, considering the sky above was still resolutely gray
and overcast, but didn't pay it much more mind. I assumed it was
some optical phenomena that a physicist would enjoy giving me a
headache over explaining it, and left it at that.
So here I was in a bright green meadow, with its own bright blue
stream, and bright pink, orange, purple, red, and yellow flowers all
about me. It was an unreal, marvelous sight, and I was quite glad
with myself for having decided to forge onward down the rarely-
traveled path. Finally, over the light breeze that was whipping my
hair and jacket, I detected a faint, chirpy singing. It sounded
somewhat like a child.
Was my spot not so secret? Had I interrupted a family picnic or
something? Feeling a bit disappointed, I decided to nevertheless
seek the people out and say hello, trailing the sound of the singing
toward the stream. From there I followed it to a large pile of gray
stones lying near the banks, surrounded by a large clustering of
big, poofy dandelions. And sitting on those stones was a rabbit. A
gray, round, fluffy little rabbit with a bright white cotton-tail,
its back to me. Apparently, it was singing. I began to thoroughly
question whether I had unintentionally ingested a psychotropic
substance.
Before I could react further, the rabbit stopped singing and looked
over its shoulder at me. It had... frankly disturbingly large eyes,
not like any rabbit I'd ever seen. It looked like one of those
stereotypical, huge-eyed Japanese cartoon characters had its
eyeballs amputated and glued to a rabbit. And then it smiled. No, it
honest-to-god smiled at me. You have no idea how creepy it is to see
a rabbit grin. "Hi!" it said, in a putridly saccharine sing-song
voice. Yes, it said "Hi!" Yes, as in a human sentence with proper
pronunciation and vocalization.
"Uhm..." I began, assuming I was speaking to my own hallucination
and unsure whether it was worth engaging it seriously.
"What's your name?" it sang out, the nauseating sweetness of its
voice sufficient to kill a diabetic. I stared, and I guess it took
this as a cue to keep talking: "I'm Carrot Topless!"
It then turned all the way around. And I saw that this rabbit had
tits. No, I'm not talking teats, like little bunny-nipples. Or
mammary glands like a pregnant animal would have. No. This rabbit
had TITS. As in, boobs. Bazongas. You get the idea. It was sitting
on its hind legs, and they were right over where its pectoral
muscles would be if it were... you know... human. And they were
round, and big. No, huge. Each one was the size of the thing's head.
Granted, that's like... the size of a grapefruit, but that's pretty
big on a rabbit, you know?
It giggled, a putridly adorable little twitter: "Hee-hee, you like
my tits?"
I blinked. Did a rabbit just ask me if I liked its tits? "Uhm." I
replied.
It giggled more. "That's OK, everyone does! They're swelllllll!" It
said this last word with a rising intonation that kept going
forever, until I was about to throttle the thing, and then it
finally stopped, laughing happily to itself. This caused its
freakish bust to jiggle wildly. Then it kept laughing, even harder,
and fell onto its back, causing even more lagomorphic wobbling, and
began hyperventilating with laughter.
"I, uh..." I began, then simply started to back away. It noticed,
and immediately stopped laughing, sitting bolt upright. Its breasts
hit it in the face, then stopped moving a few seconds later.
"Oh!" it said, giggling a bit, "Don't go! I'm sorry, where are my
manners?" It thrust its chest out, making the two breasts look
absolutely enormous in comparison to its body: "Go ahead, feel 'em
up!" It emitted little bursts of air for a few seconds, as if
holding in a laugh, before finally exploding in roaring guffaws
again: "Get it? Get it? Feel 'em up? It's like fill 'em up but it's
not!" Somehow its face turned beet-red with laughter, even though it
was covered in white fur.
"I... no thank you, I have to go." I stumbled out, totally convinced
I was involved in illegal substance abuse of some sort.
"Oh no no no no!" it shrieked, suddenly appearing behind me, moving
with unbelievable speed for a rabbit so weighed-down. And then it
leapt in the air and swiftly kicked my calves with both its powerful
feet, sending me flying to the ground and landing in the meadow
grass with my face a few inches from one of the poofy dandelions. It
hopped (and bounced) over to sit behind the dandelion patch and face
me, then giggled: "You're funny! No one's ever refused a good rub of
my titties before, not even a girl! That makes me laaaaaaaugh!"
Again the rising intonation went on forever, and I wanted to scream
and plug my ears.
Before I could reply, it continued: "And I looooooooooove laughing!
So I'm-a gonna give you something speciaaaaaaaaaal as a reward for
makin' me laugh!" I was about to open my mouth to beg it not to,
whatever it was thinking. Before I could, though, the thing -
"Carrot Topless" as it were - took a very deep breath (thrusting its
chest out very, uh, prominently), grabbed the dandelion stalk
directly in front of my face, and then blew on it full-force,
sending an overwhelming cloud of little fluffy bits swarming and
swirling into my face.
I yelled out in irritated protest, amid the sound of its demented,
insane, endless giggling. And then I sneezed. And then I sneezed
harder. And then my entire body was wracked with a coughing,
hacking, sneezing, wheezing, eye-watering, itching, tingling,
spasming hay fever from hell. I was incapacitated. Simply existing
was an excruciating experience in whole-body irritation. I had never
had any sort of outdoor allergies before in my life. Whatever that
thing had blown into my face, it was no normal dandelion. But then,
given the circumstances, are we surprised?
I stumbled to my feet, blinking away from my puffy eyes an endless
stream of allergenic tears that warped my vision, and desperately
tried to find the path back to civilization. But as I scanned the
circular enclosure of the meadow, all the grasses looked the same.
Wherever the path was, it was well-hidden by the overgrowth, and
only a careful full-perimeter search would turn it up. At least,
that was my instant, panicked assessment, and so I instead tried to
stumble blindly toward the stream to wash my eyes out. Since I could
barely see anything by this point, the idea was easier conceived
than executed.
And still that infernal giggling continued! "Eeeheeheeheehee,
ahahahaha, heeheeheeheeheeAAAAAAAAAH!" The giggling turned sharply
to a cry of terror as, while I stumbled around frantically, the toe
of my hiking boot fortuitously hit Carrot Topless head-on, punting
the awful little thing to who-knows-where. I heard its startled
shriek trail into the distance, but was really far too distracted to
pay it much mind.
Eventually, I did lumber into the stream, where I plunged my face in
and eagerly washed the dandelion debris off. This helped to curb the
intensity of the reaction, but my eyes were still watering a bit, I
kept sniffling, and my entire body itched ferociously all over. To
top it off, a large portion of my clothing was now sopping wet.
Disoriented, confused, terrified, bewildered, and so on, I wandered
to the edge of the meadow and began circling it, trying to find the
original path. I couldn't, even with a careful examination. My mind
flashed back to earlier in the day, when I had contemplated taking
an extra 30 seconds to leave my condo in order to find my compass.
Of course, I hadn't. I never needed it before, why would I today? I
kicked myself (as best I could) and sighed. The clouds overhead
thoroughly obscured any chance of using the sun for navigation. I
sighed again. The treeline was so thick and tall that it was
impossible to identify any landmarks. I sighed a third time, and
just struck out randomly into the forest, on the assumption it was
better than standing still.
- III -
WANDERING through the woods without a beaten path to go on was
considerably less fun than casual trail-walking. The ground cover
was thoroughly inconvenient, the tree limbs were often hazardously
low, and it was really quite impossible to keep track of which way
you'd come from and where you were going.
To make matters much worse, the persistent itching all over my body
wasn't fading a bit since the reaction to that godawful dandelion
had begun. It was getting so bad that I was rather willing to do
anything to make it better, and thought that perhaps my clothing
rubbing against my skin might be increasing the irritation. Since my
shirt was already uncomfortably wet, I tied my jacket around my
waist and then took my shirt off, slinging it over my shoulder.
Since I went on endurance hikes so often, my body was well-toned,
even if it wasn't particularly muscular, so I figured I wouldn't be
offending any attractive women that I might (hopefully) pass by. And
that's what matters, right?
The cool air on my skin did help a bit, but not much. Still, not
having a piece of soaked fabric clinging to me was also an
improvement, so I left the shirt off. It took thorough willpower to
resist scratching at my newly-exposed skin, but I reasoned that an
allergic reaction probably wouldn't be helped much by scratching at
all. No need to rough myself up and look like I'd been mauled by a
bear.
As I kept wandering further and further into unguided forest, I
surrendered more and more of my clothing to the itching feeling,
until I was walking completely nude, one hand held gingerly in front
of my genitals to prevent any sharp sticks or branches or stinging
nettles or poison oak from making the situation any worse. At one
point I realized that I didn't have my clothing any more, and
stopped to look for where I had dropped it. I couldn't find it. That
was odd; when had I let it go? Overcome by panic at the darkening
forest and the maddening itching, I just shrugged and forged ahead.
At that point, embarassing myself in front of the rescue crew would
be worth it just to see a rescue crew.
Though, honestly, I didn't really expect to see a rescue crew any
time soon. I lived alone, had broken up with my most recent
girlfriend several months ago, and didn't have any deadlines coming
up. With my freelance work and aloof tendencies, it could be a week
or more before anyone took any serious note of my missing status.
That only increased the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach;
but that feeling was quickly rivaled by the furious itching and
irritating sniffling, and I went back to gritting my teeth and
trying to will my nerve endings to shut up.
At some point I began to realize the reaction was worsening, not
fading, as I was experiencing swelling in my chest, thighs, face,
and oddly even my ass. The areas weren't especially sore or tender -
well, except my chest - but they were just ... bloated. My thighs
were scraping against each other as I walked, and my butt was
starting to be a noticeable presence behind me. On my face, I could
feel my cheeks much more prominently, and my lips felt puffy and
swollen. Again, they weren't sore at all, just bigger.
My chest, though. Ow. Every time I would forget and accidentally
scratch at it a little again, I would have to grit my teeth extra
hard. It was very, very sensitive in addition to being swollen. Even
my nipples were swollen. My chest practically looked like my
sister's had when she was going through puberty (two teenagers and
one downstairs bathroom - you see a lot, whether you want to or
not). This prompted me to wonder just what the hell kind of allergic
reaction my body was having, and worry that perhaps this wasn't just
an allergy but a serious toxic substance.
Whatever I had run into back there... wow. I knew that I must have
gotten into something - mushroom spores maybe? - that caused me to
hallucinate that freakish and unsettling rabbit. And I wondered what
kind of hellish plant had masqueraded as a dandelion in that
hallucination and itched, sniffled, watered, and swollen me up like
this. I mean, not only was I lost, I was having what was becoming a
serious physiological reaction to some plant substance. I realized
this was getting really dangerous, and again kicked myself for being
too cheap to spring for a GPS device or satellite phone.
One thing - or I guess things - that weren't swelling were my
genitals. Compared to my puffy chest, seeing my perfectly normal-
sized penis and scrotum was highly reassuring. It looked like I'd
get out of this without damaging my ability to reproduce someday.
The other swellings, though, were getting much more severe as I
walked. My thighs went from just brushing together a bit to being
wide, fleshy cylinders that slid tightly against each other with
every step, proving not just distracting but difficult to walk with.
I tried to hold my legs farther apart as I walked, but that proved
so awkward I gave up and just put up with the temporary crazy
swelling. I stopped to turn and look at my ass and was equally
disturbed, as it bloated out behind me with a noticeable shelf,
quite unlike my usual non-existent bony boy butt. It even jiggled a
bit with every step, which was just... weird, and also made moving
more cumbersome. My lips were so swollen now that I couldn't help
but notice it at all times, and though I couldn't see my reflection,
it felt like they were bloated to the point of being forced into a
perpetual pout or purse. They were noticeable in the corner of my
vision whenever I looked far enough downward, along with my curvy
cheeks. This was, I reasoned, not healthy.
Plus, I was still itching all over, and sniffling, and periodically
wiping away more of my watery eyes. Or was I crying, because I was
scared and alone and my whole body was sick and messed up? I mean,
at the time the idea never entered my mind, but in retrospect, all
things considered, I really don't remember sneezing at all after the
initial burst of dandelion. Just a lot of sniffling and eye-wiping
during the long walk. Oh well. Anyway, so I was itchy, and teary,
and sniffly, and my body was becoming cumbersomely swollen and
jiggly all over and it was just so overwhelming and I was totally
lost and...
And that's why it was such a wonderful, wonderful sight when I came
across the odd little cabin built into a great big oak tree.
- IV -
YES, really... built right into the tree. The tree itself was huge,
big around as a small house, and the living arrangements looked to
be mixed right in with the trunk. I imagined that it resembled what
would happen if a home exploded with hurricane-force right next to a
tree and embedded bits and pieces of house-shrapnel into the bark of
the thing.
At the base, near the roots, was a quaint little doorway with a
cheery, worn welcome mat depicting a cartoon bee waving, with a
cursive "Bee My Guest!" above it. A little ways up there was a small
circular cross-barred window, and a little ways further above that
was another window. A crude metal chimney-pipe stuck out at an
awkward angle from the side of the oak and ascended into the
treetops.
The trees of the forest were growing in so close and so thickly in
this region that practically all external light was blocked out,
making it clear the oak-house was well-lit from within. A warm
yellowish glow exuded from the two visible windows and the lites of
the door; this made my heart jump excitedly, since it meant this
strange little cottage (or whatever) was inhabited! Grisly images of
me lying dead and devoured in the forest litter faded away
reassuringly.
I stumbled sluggishly toward the oak-house, taking great effort for
each step since the swelling all over my body had become ludicrously
extreme. I could barely slip my thighs past each other, since they
were so round and fleshy that the spillover from each thigh somewhat
interlocked. That, and my butt was now so noticeably enlarged that
it genuinely added enough weight to each step to further slow me
down. In light of these two distractions, my puffy chest and
swollen facial features were easily ignored, since they didn't
affect my movement very much. The infernal itching still remained,
and I'm sure that my immense efforts to prevent myself from tearing
my flesh off also slowed my progress down.
So I moved, probably at a comically dull pace, toward the oak-house.
Even fighting against the discomfort, I was able to keep myself
moving forward toward that goal, powered by the reward of medical
attention and a safe environment... until I fell. I don't know if it
was a wet leaf or a patch of fungus or a dead raccoon or heaven
knows what, but I felt something squish under my right foot and then
the world rushed by me in an unpleasant vertical arc. A split-second
later I was on my butt.
It was a good thing that my swollen areas weren't sore, or I'd
likely have been in agony. Instead, I merely hit the ground with a
soft 'paff' as the immense swelling of my rear end and thighs
cushioned me considerably. In fact, the swelling was so unbelievably
severe that I was propped off the ground at a slight angle rather
than lying flat on my back. I hoisted myself to a sitting position,
and it was like my torso was attached to a giant bean-bag chair; my
immense thighs and ass spread out beneath me so extensively that
they felt more like furniture than a part of me.
This gave me another chance to examine myself, as I caught my
breath. It was obvious the problem was swelling from fluids or
tissue inflammation, since my thighs and bottom weren't draping off
of me like fat deposits but rather quite round and firm, if a bit
soft. They looked to be healthy tissue, other than being freakishly
oversized. That made me feel better, since I felt much more
confident that when the swelling went down I'd be left without
permanent damage.
I turned my examinations to my chest, and saw that my pectoral area
was still bloated out as well, more prominently than the last time I
looked. More startlingy, my nipples were thoroughly swollen half-
domes protruding obscenely off my already-swollen chest area, and
the little nipple-nub itself was puffed up to the size of my pinky-
tip. A ginger touch revealed that my chest definitely still held the
honor of being the only swollen area to be sensitive. I ran my
fingers over my lips and they felt just as fat and oversized as
earlier, which was quite bad, considering. I tried speaking -
"Teshting, teshting" - and quickly shut up; the swelling in my lips
made my speech noticeably slurred and lispy.
Getting panicky again, I decided I'd spent enough time taking a
break and it was time to finish the 100 or so meters between me and
salvation. The oak-house in the distance had never looked better. So
I rocked back on my swollen haunches and - rolled back into place.
My eyes grew wide as I realized that my backside was so heavy I was
having trouble lifting it! This was thoroughly "medical emergency"
territory. So I steeled all my muscles, took a deep breath, and -
failed to get off the ground, again. My eyes were watering like
crazy now, the itching was overwhelming me, and I literally could
not get my ass off the ground.
A third, flailing effort resulted in me losing balance and tipping
over, and now the immense weight of my thighs was pinning me to the
leaf-and-debris covered forest floor. I continued twisting and
squirming about, occasionally brushing or slapping my chest against
something and crying out from the sudden burst of pain. Soon I was
filthy and coated with dirt and debris, but still stuck on my side.
Determined not to be found by a predatory animal while in this
state, I engaged in another panicked round of efforts, and managed
to roll myself into a position on my hands and knees. "Well,
thawt'll hoff tew do," I muttered unhappily through bloated lips,
and began crawling like an infant toward the tantalizingly-close
sign of civilization.
As I crawled ploddingly forward, it became obvious that rolling
around in dead leaves, pine needles, ferns, and whatever else likes
to cover the ground in deep forests is not an antipruritic, because
the itching on my skin had somehow gotten even worse. Lugging my
immenese thighs and butt forward was even less fun on all fours than
it was upright, and I was becoming exhausted rapidly. My puffy chest
kept brushing against some devious fern or stick or flower or
mushroom or whatever that was just the wrong height, prompting
frequent bursts of stinging soreness that would make my eyes
redouble their efforts at watering. In short, if progress up to this
point had been frustrating, this was now outright hell.
Then, about 50 meters away from the oak-house, I unwittingly pressed
down a young, thin branch or shoot of something - whatever it was,
it was long and supple. Whiplike is an important word here. As soon
as I crawled forward a moment later, my hand unknowingly released
it, and it whipped forward and slapped me with unbelievable force
right across my two puffed-up nipples. Instantly, I collapsed to the
ground; the entire world became neon-colored sparks and spots as my
whole body shuddered with unbelievable pain. It was like being
kicked in the testicles, but less nausea and more stabbiness, all
radiating out from my chest. Memories of accidentally bumping into
my sister in the hallway while her breasts were budding immediately
popped to mind, and I muttered expletives that this stupid allergic
reaction or toxin or whatever was making me as hypersensitive and
wimpy as an adolescent girl.
An eternity later - actually a few seconds, most likely - the nerve
responses quieted down to a manageable, sore throb, and I became
more consciously aware that I was once again lying on the forest
floor, this time curled into a fetal position. I tried to get up,
but my swollen body was exhausted and didn't want to comply. I tried
to move at all, but every motion of air over me seemed to make the
itchiness even worse. A few more seconds elapsed, and I openly burst
into frustrated, hopeless tears, then began crying out for help in a
blind panic. I hoped my voice would carry to the oak-house and that
they'd be home. I screamed and screamed muffled pleas through my
swollen lips until I was too tired to even do that (much less time
than you'd imagine, really - I was pathetically exhausted at this
point) and then just slipped into silent sobbing.
I remember it only murkily, because I was almost completely passed
out when it happened, but I heard a distant creaking sound like a
sturdy door opening, and then a cry of shock. Then footsteps, I
think, crunching over the forest litter. "Oh, you poor little man,
have you gone and gotten into?" The voice trailed off at the end,
but I think that's because I passed out, not because the sentence
ended. The memory is pretty blurry, anyway. All I know is that I
felt OK closing my eyes knowing that someone had finally found me,
and I wouldn't be eaten by a bear or something.
- V -
I awoke inside the oak-house. At least, I assumed almost immediately
I was inside the oak-house. The walls - well, wall, singular, is
more appropriate, was circular, wrapping all the way around the
living area with a color and appearance that looked like golden,
dried wood. Above on the wall I could see one of the little circular
windows. A quaint staircase carved right into the wood of the
hollowed-out tree seemed to lead down to another floor, where I
assumed the other window and the doorway would be found.
A brightly-colored plaid quilt was draped over me, and a fluffy
goose-down pillow supported my head. The frame of the bed I was in
seemed to be carved right out of the tree also. Various other little
country-cottage accoutrements like a soft pink carved-wood dresser,
a storage trunk, and a wardrobe adorned various areas of the
circular room. Everything inside seemed lit with a vibrant, slightly
golden light, making the whole place seem vivid and cheery.
More important to me, though, was the state of my body. I lifted up
the quilt: I was still swollen, but considerably less so. My thighs
looked capable of normal walking, with a bit of friction, and my ass
no longer propped me up like a Swiss ball. My chest still seemed
pretty puffed up, but since moving the quilt didn't bring tears to
my eyes, at least the soreness seemed to have faded. I ran my
fingers over my face and found that the swelling in my lips and
cheeks seemed much better also. Great! Whoever had found me must
have gotten me proper treatment. Maybe some mountain-man who knew a
tried-and-true herbal remedy or something.
Since I was feeling so much better, I decided to go find him and
thank him profusely for coming to my aid. As I gingerly made my way
down the carved stairway, I noted how low the ceilings were - was he
some sort of recluse dwarfed person, fleeing to the mountains to
avoid the ridicule of "civilized" folk? Eh, whatever, I was just
glad they lived where they did. As I continued down the spiraling
stairs, I suddenly realized - the itching! The horrid itching was
gone! For ridding me of that loathsome reaction, I was contemplating
kissing the guy in addition to thanking him. If, you know, that
didn't sound so gay.
I was thrown a bit off-guard when I came out of the stairwell into
the ground floor of the oak-house. I had to continue stooping; the
ground-floor ceiling couldn't have been more than 5 feet high, if
that. A tidy little sink full of bright white dishes sat under the
circular window in the room, which had a bright and cheery pair of
light-blue drapes opened on either side of it. "He must have a
generator," I murmured, noting the bright white refrigerator. An
archaic little TV with bent rabbit-ear antennae sat in front of a
plush sage-green couch with all sorts of multicolored little patches
all over it. A small circular dining table with proportional
highback chairs took up the middle of the room, and an intricate set
of teapots, teacups, coasters and placemats was strewn across it. I
noticed one of the chairs was considerably larger, and looked like
I'd almost be able to sit comfortably in it, if I was a little
shorter and thinner. Finally, a pair of doorways in the "back," that
is, opposite the entry door, I assumed led to the man's living
quarters and possibly a water closet or storage area.
The entire ground floor had an equally vivid lighting to it that
made all the colors seem flatter and brighter, and the entire
setting seem cheery and happy. Since it appeared he had gone out
while I slept off my affliction, I wandered over to the pantry to
see if there were any snacks available; I was feeling a might bit
peckish after not eating for practically the entire day, what with
the frantic wandering and all. I figured if he was willing to save a
stranger's life, he wouldn't mind them borrowing a bit of food.
I was a bit perplexed to see the entire pantry contained nothing but
quaint clay jars marked "HUNNY", which seemed to have been glazed on
at the time of firing. Shifting them around a bit, I realized that
behind the jars of "hunny" was just... more honey. At least, I
assumed it was an uneducated misspelling, not a whole new substance.
Well, I didn't really want to eat a handful of honey, especially
with my blood sugar operating off an empty stomach. A good hiker
manages their energy intake better than that. A good hiker also
doesn't explore unfamiliar trails without letting someone know when
they expect to be home, but let's not get into that.
So I gave up on my snacking idea and decided to just find this
mysterious mountain-man savior and see if he had any ideas for
lunch. Or breakfast. Or whatever. The oak-house was so well lit, and
the forest was so dark here, that without a clock it was quite
difficult to guess the time of day. I was about to stroll out the
front door when I noticed I was naked except for the quilt! I had
forgotten about losing my clothing in my inflamed haze... oops.
Well, if the guy found me naked, I'm sure he'd be okay with me
walking around covered up by a blanket. Maybe once he knew I was up
he'd have a change of clothes for me.
- VI -
I opened the front door (now realizing it was much tinier than it
had looked from a distance), stooped further, and made my way
outside, where it felt good to be able to stretch to full-height
again. With my back arched, my puffy chest added a subtle but
noticeable little bulge to the quilt; that was a little embarassing,
but I reassured myself that I was still legitimately recovering from
a severe reaction so it wouldn't be fair to tease me.
I glanced around the immediate forest area and didn't see him
anywhere. There was a noticeable trail through the leaves and debris
of the forest floor where he had obviously dragged my unconscious
form to the oak-house, and some ways in the distance I recognized
where I must have passed out. Then I pondered how he managed to get
me up the stairs if he couldn't carry me to the oak-house, and
searched the back of my head for a bump. Nothing, and no headache.
Well, whatever.
I stretched again, and startled when something brushed my hand.
Glancing up, I saw that a very cheery-looking bluebird had settled
on my fist. And it was very, very blue. And very red on its belly.
And had rather disturbingly large and animated eyes, reminding
enough of that freakish rabbit to make me wonder if I was
experiencing another hallucination.
But thankfully, the bird didn't talk to me. It just chirped, then
winked at me with one of its big, Japanimation eyes. I cautiously
lowered my arms and it remained perched on my fingertips, trilling
out a happy little song while bobbing its body. I smiled, even
though this was bizarre. Then another bird landed on my shoulder,
similarly-proportioned and equally vibrantly-colored. Well, that was
cute, I thought. They both began singing.
Then another bird landed on my head, and another on my other hand,
all singing away happily. Well, that's neat, I thought. So much
wildlife, and so friendly! I absent-mindedly wondered if we usually
had these species in this forest, since I'd never seen them before,
but whatever.
Then another bird landed on my shoulder, and another on my arm, and
another, and another. Soon there were about 25 of these strange
little birds perched all over my body or hopping around my feet,
flitting about and singing little birdsongs with enthusiastic gusto,
creating a mind-jarring cacophony of tweets and chirps and more kept
flocking onto me and -
I screamed, shaking the birds off, who went flying in various
directions with stunned looks on their faces. Then I took off
running into the forest, making sure to keep the oak-house in sight,
and hoping that whatever had attracted the birds to me was left
behind. Drawing the quilt tighter around me, I stalked off toward a
nearby ridge in the forest floor, hoping I could hike up its modest
slope and possibly manage a look over the tree-line. I wanted to
figure out where I was while I waited for the woodsman to get back.
And, as I approached that very ridge, I coincidentally ran right
into the individual that had rescued me, who was just reaching the
crest of the ridge from the other side, holding two water-pails in
their arms. It was a cartoon bear.
- VII -
YES, really. I was convinced I was once again hallucinating, and
worried I might need psychiatric help, because it looked exactly
like that one bear character - Vinnie the Fooh, or whatever - was
cresting the hill and carrying buckets of water in its stubby arms.
It had the solid-golden skin, or fur, or whatever, and the bright
red T-shirt, and the adorable little face with the black button
eyes. The only difference from my childhood memories was that this
cartoon-bear-thing was wearing a trucker's cap with a naked woman
posed on it. Well, that was odd, but the whole thing was an odd
hallucination so I just rolled with it, you know?
Anyway, at that point I didn't know this was the one who rescued me.
I thought I was just having another mental breakdown. So I rolled my
eyes at myself, and began walking backwards slowly, wanting to make
my way to the oak-house and sleep off whatever fever was afflicting
my brain. As I took another step backward, I heard a branch crack
audibly behind me. And to my shock, my hallucination took notice.
The cartoon-bear-thing looked up in curiousity, then saw me. Its
face turned to shock and it dropped the water pails. Then it spoke,
in a soft, slightly raspy, very adorable and friendly voice: "Oh my!
My dear new friend, you should not be up! You should not be up at
all yet, your treatment has not reached the stabilized stage yet!"
My treatment, huh? So this must be the mountain man, and I was so
hopped-up on his homemade remedy that I was hallucinating cartoon
birds and seeing him as a cartoon bear. Well, I'd show my warped
perceptions who was boss, I thought, and marched toward him in a
friendly manner. "Hello," I called out, reminding myself that, when
you discounted my hallucinating, this wasn't a cartoon bear but
another human being. "Thank you so much for rescuing me," I added.
The cartoon-bear-thing just stood there, muttering fretfully to
itself as it picked up its water-buckets and frowned at how much
liquid it had lost from them. Then it shook its head and turned to
look at me again: "You simply musn't be up yet, friend. I wouldn't
have left if I thought you'd wake up so soon. You got into a very
bad batch of bussie-boppers and musn't expend any unnecessary energy
until we've gotten your condition under control!"
"I appreciate your concern," I replied, noticing that a very mild
itching sensation was becoming present all over my body, "But I'm
really feeling much better. It feels good to get up and stretch my
legs, and I'd like to help out around the place a bit as a ways
toward saying thank-you for..." As I continued with my humble and
courteous little speech, I scratched absent-mindedly at my chest
through the quilt. The cartoon-bear-thing's eyes immediately bugged
out.
"Egads! You're itching again! That isn't good, that isn't good at
all! We've got to get you treatment, we've got to get you medicine
immediately!" It looked around frantically, as if making a tough
decision.
"Uhm, listen..." I said, approaching it to calm it down, "It's
really just a mild little itch, let me grab one of those buckets and
we'll head back - " I was cut off.
I was cut off as it finished climbing the ridge at a breakneck pace
and lunged itself at me like a terrifying rabid raccoon. Now, in the
two seconds it took for it to be in mid-air flying toward my face, I
was able to visually register one other addition this thing had that
the familiar cartoon bear of my memories did not. One was the
trucker hat, and two was... this gigantic set of male genitals. "It"
became "he" very decisively in my mind. And good lord. While the
creature was only about 3-and-a-half feet tall, its penis must have
been 9 inches long as it swung flaccidly between its legs. "Third
leg" was more apt slang than usual here. It had some equally-
proportionally-impressive balls to go with that. It was like some
horrifying pornographic nightmare of a children's movie (well,
besides what ends up between-frames in most actual children's
movies).
And as I said, it was flying toward my face. But this all happened
so fast I barely had any time to react. I just stood there, feeling
mildly itchy and very dumbfounded, as my brain tried to process what
was happening. It propelled itself through the air with amazing
distance and speed from one leap, and as it crossed the distance to
me its large penis sprang from flaccid to fully erect (ending at a
size which was a truly humbling sight for any male ego, I might add)
in less than a second. Just as my brain finished recovering and
started to send signals to my leg muscles to RUN, the thing impacted
my face.
It - he - was amazingly lightweight, and so I only stumbled a bit as
the quilt fell to the ground, standing there with a cartoon bear-
thing in a red T-shirt with no pants and a huge erect penis clinging
to my face. Naturally, I was frantically beating on it and trying to
rip it away from me. But this thing had claws! And they were dug in,
gently but firmly, to the back of my scalp, so that ripping it away
was both difficult and painful. I instinctively began to scream, and
it instantly seized the opportunity to deftly manoeuvre its penis
into my mouth.
This was more than enough for me to decide that whatever was
actually going on, in my head a cartoon bear-thing was trying to
face-fuck me, and so in my little hallucinatory world, it was going
to die. I fumbled around, came in contact with a (vertical) tree
trunk, and immediately began bashing my face against it. Cartoon
bear-things are surprising good insulation against concussive force,
but they also seem irritatingly durable, since the thing didn't
flinch or budge at all while I frantically tried to beat it off of
me.
"Take your medicine! Take your medicine!" it hollered at the top of
its cute little lungs, and began undulating its hips in a lewd and
awful fashion. I felt smooth, huge cartoon bear-thing penis sliding
back and forth inside my mouth and against my tongue. My natural
reaction to this was to bite down on the bastard, but even as my jaw
began to move I felt warning claws dig deeper into my scalp. "No,
you fool, don't fight it! Take your damn medicine!" it screamed.
No thanks, I thought, my vision obscured by its advancing and
receding smooth, fuzzy golden abdomen. I decided to chance it and
began to bite down on the offending cartoon bear's... thing.
WHAP!
Before I could even figure out what had happened, I was dealt such a
furiously strong blow upside the head that I was knocked off-balance
and fell to the ground, stars ringing out in my field of vision. How
in god's name could a little cartoon bear-thing hit anyone that
hard? Disoriented and stunned, it took me a few seconds to regain my
bearings (ha, ha) enough to realize I was now on my back on the
forest floor, with a cartoon bear-thing sitting on my face and
pumping an enormous schlong in and out of my mouth. My swollen lips
were betraying me, as they were still bloated enough to wrap
themselves around my teeth even if I didn't intend them to, and so
the little ursine rapist was having a fairly smooth go of it.
Finally my brain stopped rattling enough for me to grab the thing
around its torso and attempt to rip it off me again, but it just
swung its arm back and slammed into me with about as much force as
it had used on my head. My arm flew right back into the dirt,
stinging horribly and feeling borderline-fractured. I screamed
around its penis, trying to roll over and smother the bastard in the
dirt of the forest floor, but to my shock a large number of little
feet were holding me to the ground quite firmly. And familiar chirps
and twitters were ringing out from the direction of my torso and
legs. Good god, I wondered, what kind of disturbed individual has
hallucinations like this?
My pondering was cut short as the cartoon bear-thing let out a happy
gasp and my blood froze. No. No way. But yes, yes way... a moment
later I felt the balls against my chin flex a bit, and then a thick
and soupy substance pour forth into my mouth. Before I knew what I
was doing, I was reflexively swallowing.
And... it was oddly comforting. Why did it taste so familiar? Why
did it make me feel... better? It was strangely sweet and flavorful,
without any of the overt saltiness or nasty flavor I expected based
on what girls had described to me before. I snapped back to the
present moment with the disgusted realization I was deliberately
swallowing each pump. Yuck! But when I tried to stop, and tried
starting to force it out, I just... couldn't. I would inevitably
just swallow it after a few seconds of indecision. And jesus, did
this bear-thing ever have a load in it. Its penis seemed to keep
pumping for millenia.
Finally, it trailed off, and with a flutter of air I felt the
weights on my legs lift. The penis slowly turned flaccid in my
mouth, but I kept dutifully making swallowing motions, and then to
my horror realized I was suckling needfully on the flaccid penis!
Deciding this was entirely too much, I forcefully spit it out and
turned onto my side, wanting to throw up. Wanting to, but feeling no
real need or motivation. My mouth had a sweet, soothing, pleasant
taste in it, and my stomach felt warm and happy. And the itching was
gone, again.
"There, friend. See, it wasn't so bad. I know we've never done it
quite like that before, but I hope you'll realize when you're in
better spirits that it was an emergency situation." I heard the
bear-thing say to me in soothing tones, stroking my hair. "Now let's
get you back to bed!"
I lay there, in a numb and confused daze, as I felt the quilt draped
over my body and then myself being dragged across the forest floor
back toward the oak-house. Had I just willingly swallowed semen? Not
just willingly, but enjoyably? Even if this was just a disturbing
hallucination, what did that say about my state of mind? Was I a
latent homosexual? I'd never had thoughts like this before, though.
Not even mild urges. I was always very confident in my sexuality.
I'd been friends with several gay men and never felt threatened or
uncomfortable, just... not their type.
As I felt leaves scrape my ear, a hazy image suddenly flashed into
my mind. Of being in bed, in the upstairs bed I had woken up in. Of
the bear-thing sitting on a stool next to the bed. Of a ceramic jar
nearby, and a spoon being fed to me. The word "medicine" was present
in its otherwise memory-garbled speech.
The itching had stopped after I swallowed.
Was that it?
Was this... thing... or this man I was hallucinating as a bear-
thing... was he feeding me his cum, maybe with an addictive
substance mixed in, to make me some sort of sex slave? That would
explain my sudden comfort with swallowing a load of semen.
I wanted to jump up and escape, but I felt too numb and drowsy. Far,
far away, through a rushing sound filling my ears as I blacked out,
I heard a heavy oak door creak open. He had won for now. But I now
realized I wasn't safe. I had to escape.
And as soon as he left again, I would escape.
- VIII -
I woke up to the warm feeling of sunlight filtering on to my face. I
snuffled a bit, then pawed the quilt off my face and batted my
bleary eyes open. A familiar sweet taste coated my mouth, and I
tried to spit, but my mouth was too dry. I settled for making a
grossed-out face and frowning hopelessly. So it wasn't a dream, I
was still in the clutches of a madman. What a terrible day!
Or, apparently, based on the lighting... days, now. Which then
struck me as odd. If the top-floor window was visible from the
forest floor, that meant it was under the treetops. But if the
forest was so thick around here that it was perpetually darkened,
how was morning sunlight filtering in through my window?
Unless I was on the third floor, and that spiraling stairwell hid an
intermediary level between my "guest" room and the ground-floor
living quarters. My imagination began to wander, wondering if that
was the secret chamber where he kept his other captives, other lost
hikers he used as sex slaves or maybe he ate them or...
"So sleepyhead finally wakes up!" I heard his horrid, soft,
adorable, breathy voice announce loudly and cheerfully. I gritted my
eyes closed in disappointment; my escape opportunity was cut off,
for now. Then I looked at the doorway which led to the stairwell.
And saw a... cartoon bear-thing, sans trucker's hat, but still in a
red T-shirt and lacking pants, and still well-hung enough to upset
the MPAA. In his stubby arm-hand... things, he held a simple wooden
tray, upon which sat a bowl of steaming something, some toast, an
empty glass, a tall pitcher of milk, and some slices of fresh
oranges, strawberries, and mango.
"Good timing, friendly friend," it continued, "I was afraid your
porridge might have to get cold" - so that's what was in the bowl -
"because I didn't want to wake you if you were sleeping. You
certainly need your rest after getting into bussie-boppers."
It set the serving tray down on a little wooden TV tray that had
appeared next to my bed overnight, then sat down on the stool near
my bed and continued: "How do you even manage to get into those
bussie-boppers? Most forest folk have the sense to steer clear of
them. Oh, I bet it was that awful rabbit, always causing mischief
and trying to get people to grope her tits."
I jumped a bit. The rabbit? How did he know about the rabbit? I
thought that was a hallucination. Maybe I had rambled deliriously in
my sleep. Or maybe I was hallucinating this entire experience! Maybe
I was wandering around inside a big dead log or something, talking
to myself and stepping on opossums or something.
"Uhm, you know the rabbit?" I asked cautiously, as the bear-thing
lifted a spoonful of steaming porridge toward my mouth.
"Blow it." it commanded.
My eyes darted uncontrollably to its large sexual organs, and I felt
immediately embarassed at the reaction. It laughed lightly and
happily: "Oh, not that silly! The porridge... we don't want it to
burn your mouth!"
Feeling utterly ashamed, and very confused, I downturned my eyes to
the quilt and blew gently on the spoon. This caused me to notice the
swelling in my chest still hadn't gone down. The bear-thing
continued: "Anyhow, of course I know that rabbit... so it sounds
like you did encounter her. Awful, awful little cunt, she is. Always
trying to trick people into groping her tits, then she lures them
into some stupid prank or another."
The bear-thing turned to me, a stern expression on its face: "Let me
tell you, one time I showed her what-for, I knew she was trying to
lure me into a part of the forest where she'd just thrown rocks at a
hive of killer bees. Rotten bitch. Well, I don't want to chew your
ear off, but suffice to say that by the end I was fucking her from
behind while a swarm of very angry bees stung her face until she was
so swollen she looked like a piece of cauliflower with rabbit ears,
but she's such a little tramp that she just kept squealing out
'More! More! Oh you big bear, touch my tits! Go on, rub em!' And I
went, I said, 'You want me to rub your tits? I'll rub your tits!'
and I flipped her over and let me tell you, boy scouts could've
started campfires with the friction I was building up and she just
kept squealing and - "
I held up my hand. "I think I get the idea, thanks." It was bad
enough feeling like I was losing my own mind, I didn't want to hear
some other poor mentally-ill individual's delusional ramblings.
Rabbits were common creatures in fantasy, it was probably just a
coincidence we both imagined the same kind of animal.
"Oh, pother... I apologize. I do tend to get carried away when I'm
excited. Anyway, if you ran into that nasty little rabbit I'm not
surprised you're in the state you're in. It's too bad you didn't
meet her sister, Bare Rabbit, instead. She is the very model of a
modern cultured animal." said the bear-thing, placing another
spoonful of porridge into my mouth.
"Uhm, so..." I asked.
The bear-thing's face lit up. "Oh! Of course! Where are my manners?
We still haven't been properly introduced and here I am already
talking about how well I fucked that rabbit. I'm often called the
Hunny-Bear, and that name suits me very well, so if you please, do
call me Hunny-Bear whenever you wish to greet me."
"Uhm... OK, Honey-Bear." I replied shakily, now absolutely convinced
I was the drugged captive of an insane gay woodsman.
"Hunny." he corrected. I blinked.
"Hunny?" I tried.
"Yes, there you go! And your name?" asked Hunny-Bear.
"Uhm..." I began. I wasn't sure I wanted this guy to be able to
track me down. Creepy people like to use the Internet to pursue
their disturbing little hobbies, after all. I glanced down at the
quilt to hide my lie: "I can't remember." I mumbled, trying to sound
upset.
"Oh!" exclaimed Hunny-Bear. "You poor thing! You must have gotten a
very, very bad dose of bussie-boppers, indeed!" It... he...
whatever... frowned in thought for a moment, then brightened up: "I
know! We'll just call you Bussie-Bopper, until you can remember your
name! It fits, don't you think, considering?"
"Uhm, sure." I replied. Lovely. Now I had a nickname too. Hunny-Bear
and Bussie-Bopper. I couldn't wait to see the adult-baby fetish
films I would be forced to produce at gunpoint.
Hunny-Bear clapped his hands together happily. "Alright then, my
good friend Bussie, I am very pleased to make your acquaintance!" It
then extended its arm... hand... how did this thing manipulate
objects with these stumpy, digitless arms? Well anyway, it extended
one to me, and I took the hint and shook it half-heartedly. It
chuckled: "You've got such a weak handshake... don't worry, you keep
taking your medicine and we'll get you back up to full strength in
no time!"
I shuddered visibly at the mention of the word "medicine." "Thanks,
but, uh, I don't think I want any more medicine." I replied,
crossing my fingers that he'd accept the concept of No Means No.
He just laughed happily again, closing his eyes briefly and smiling
happily. Then he looked at me: "Oh, silly Bussie. I don't know why
you're so stubborn, but I suppose nobody likes having to be sick and
take medicine. That's why I mixed your medicine in with your
porridge. You've already gotten your morning dose!" It giggled
happily to itself.
I stared at the empty bowl of porridge and the little bits drying on
the spoon and edge of the bowl, ready to feel sick. Ready, but it
never happened, because I instead became aware of how oddly
delicious the porridge had been. I didn't really pay much attention
at the time because we were busy chatting, but now the taste in my
mouth was extra-savory, for porridge. This man just admitted he
mixed his cum into my porridge, fed it to me, and was straight-faced
calling it "medicine." And my stomach wasn't turning. I was just
thinking about how lovely the porridge tasted. What was wrong with
me?
I was convinced it involved psychoactive substances, but I was also
well aware of how much better I felt than the last few times I was
awake. This internal debate prevented me from responding fast enough
to announce my indignance, and Hunny-Bear continued: "Tricked you,
huh? I know, I can be a cretin sometimes. But honestly, it's for
your own good! You grown-up people can be just like children when
you're sick, for heaven's sake."
It leaned over the tray and picked up the pitcher of milk. At least,
it was a crisp white liquid I hoped was unadulterated milk. "Now,
let's get you some mugril milk to wash things down!" As it poured my
glass full of what seemed like cold, frothy milk, I wondered what
the hell a "mugril" was. Deciding I had nothing to lose, I asked:
"What's a mugril?"
Hunny-Bear chuckled. "Oh, mugril is a wonderful creature, to be
sure. We'll go visit her when you're feeling better, I bet you've
never seen a mugril before!"
"Is it like, moose-milk or something?" I asked.
Hunny-Bear laughed. "No, no, moose-milk is pain-pig sweat compared
to what mugril produces. Just wait till you're feeling better, then
I'll let you milk her yourself!"
Great. So there was some species of milk-producing animal that this
thing called a "mugril," or whatever, and he owned one, and he
wanted me to milk it for him. My mind flashed back to the water-
buckets he was carrying when we had our first (conscious) meeting.
Maybe they were actually milk-pails?
"Anyway," I said, "I'm actually feeling much better now" - he held
the glass to my lips, interrupting me and forcing me to drink - "so
can we go today?" The milk was very cold, very refreshing, and very
different from cow's milk. It tasted... reassuring and familiar,
somehow. I inwardly hoped it wasn't because it was also "spiked".
Hunny-Bear just laughed lightly again. "No, no, no. You need to rest
and let the medicine fix you up! When I'm sure you can handle
getting up and walking about, we'll go out into the woods, I
promise. Now eat your toast."
As I crunched away on the delicious, grainy bred (it must have been
thoroughly home-made), my original question - that I had tried to
ask before it... he... whatever... thought I was trying to exchange
names - popped back into my head: "Oh, hey? Uhm, Hunny-Bear?"
Hunny-Bear smiled a friendly smile: "Yes, Bussie?"
I winced internally at that stupid name. "I was all swollen up when
I passed out and you found me - "
"Yes," interrupted Hunny-Bear, "a very common side-effect to a
bussie-bopper infection raging out of control."
Infection? This was a disease? I hoped it was just a mountain-folk
colloquialism equating allergies with disease, because I didn't
think I could contract something that nasty just by falling into
some dandelions. Anyway: "Yeah... well anyway, the swelling has
mostly gone down - "
"Yes," interrupted Hunny-Bear again, "a very common side-effect of
taking your medicine!" It laughed lightly and happily.
"Right... OK... well anyway, uhm... I notice one area is being kind
of stubborn in that regard." I gestured to my chest, the area of the
quilt that rose up quite noticeably in comparison to the rest of it.
"When will my chest go down?"
Hunny-Bear frowned a bit, looking thoughtful and adorable if you
subtracted the giant dong. "Oh dear," it said, "My medicine is only
so powerful. I can stabilize the bussie-boppers but I can't cure
them entirely." There was that word it had used earlier, again:
"stabilize". Apparently I would need proper medical attention to
really fix things. Oh well, as long as the condition didn't
deteriorate in the mean time I could live with it for a while.
Which brought me to the concept of "mean time": "Oh. OK. So, then,
do you have a way I can contact the outside world? To, you know, get
picked up and taken home?"
Hunny-Bear stared at me: "You want to leave?" That made my stomach
sink. Then he sighed: "Oh, pother. Very well. But I don't go out of
the forest much and wouldn't have any idea how to lead you home,
wherever you came from, and I don't have a telephone."
I frowned. This was getting worse. "Do you know where the nearest
ranger station is?"
Hunny-Bear stared at me again: "Ranger-station?"
I gave up. "Never mind."
"Alright," replied Hunny-Bear, smiling. "Now you just get some rest,
and you'll feel so much better in a few days!" It patted me on the
head, tucked my quilt in, and then tottered back down the stairwell,
tray in hand. I was left feeling drowsy and with a full stomach.
- IX -
WHEN I awoke it was dusk. Or at least, from the reddish-purple
lighting coming in through the window, it seemed to be dusk. I felt
terribly hot and stuffy, and quickly kicked the quilt off, and then
a comforter than had apparently been added below that. I definitely
felt my chest react when I did that. In the murky lighting it was
hard to really see, but the vague outline of two serious swellings
on my chest was enough to make me quite sure the pectoral
inflammation had not decreased.
I sat up. God, they jiggled whenever I moved! I grimly thought that
I knew what having breasts must feel like. Then I swung my legs off
the bed and stood up - something didn't quite seem right, but I
couldn't place it - and began looking around the room.
I was still naked, and all the furniture was in the same place. I
walked a little further and startled sharply as I ran right into the
TV tray; I managed to grab it before it tipped over, and prevented
too much noise from being made. If I had a chance to escape now, I
was going to take it.
Creeping down into the stairwell, I absent-mindedly brushed my hair
behind my ear and peered around. No sign of Hunny-Bear. But it was
dark. Most animals have better night vision than humans. I became
paranoid. What if Hunny-Bear was lurking in some alcove, watching
me? My heart started beating faster. No, no, don't get afraid!
Animals can smell fear!
I took a deep breath, noticing my chest rise out of the corner of my
eye, and tried to calm down. I took cautious steps down the
spiraling stairway, careful to come down slowly enough to be able to
stop if a step started creaking. About halfway down (I estimated,
based on the number of steps traversed), I heard a noise down below.
Damn it! I quickly flattened my back against the wall, very
conscious not to press my chest into anything right then, and -
And fell backwards. I was suddenly in another room, with a circular
window. Ah-ha! I had found the missing "second window" visible from
the forest floor. To my chagrin, I hadn't fallen through a secret
wall... just an unlocked, slightly-ajar door. Apparently I hadn't
paid much attention to the walls on either side of the stairwell the
one other time I'd come down it, but here was the second-floor door,
in plain sight if I'd looked.
Closing it carefully behind me, I peered around the room. It was
almost pitch-black, subject to the light-blocking of the forest
canopy. I spied a small lamp near me along with a box of long
matches, but didn't risk lighting it in case the glow under the door
gave me away. Instead I closed my eyes tightly and counted to 50,
then opened them: success! The contrast made my eyes readjust, and I
could make out vague outlines in the dark room.
Most importantly, I made out a coat rack. And on it were my clothes!
I was elated. I could now escape without being on the 11 o'clock
news as the crazy, lost, hallucinogenic, nude hiker. Now I would
just be crazy, lost, and hallucinogenic. Oh well, some improvement
was better than none. Creeping over to it, I saw how much dirt and
debris was stuck to the fabric... I must have been going through
some dense underbrush in my inflamed haze when I shed them.
Then a wonderful thought hit me. I fished into the pocket of my
jacket, and was rewarded with my cell phone! Freedom! Freedom in a
tiny rectangular object! All I had to do was find a location with
service, any service, a single bar would do if I could just fire off
one text message. I thought of the crest, that approached the
treetops. It probably wasn't high enough to receive a signal, but I
had to try.
I punched in a basic message:
LOST IN WOODS NEAR CITY, VERY DEEP. MOSTLY PINE. MEADOW AND WEIRD
OAK-HOUSE NEARBY. PLEASE SEND HELP!!!
And then selected my ex-girlfriend, my boss, two friends, and
several family members as recipients, then set it to "Send Later".
This way I could fire it off at the touch of a button if I saw a bar
of service pop up for even a moment.
Feeling very nervous, but very hopeful, I put on my jeans, shirt,
and jacket. My shoes were nowhere to be seen, but I wasn't going to
take the time to hunt them down. Everything felt very dirty, and
very loose - I had probably lost a lot of weight during my feverish
daze. And my shirt sat awkwardly over my bloated chest, and rubbed
uncomfortably. I took four steps before the shirt came back off and
I just wore my jacket loose and open. I looked forward very much to
getting proper medical attention for this damn allergic reaction...
or whatever.
Creeping back to the door, I paused and listened for the sound of
activity... and grimaced. The immediately-familiar noise of dishes
clattering in the sink drifted up to my ear. Hunny-Bear was washing
plates, and humming happily to himself. The sound of a very static-
laden television broadcast was audible in the background, sounding
like a news report.
Well, I wasn't going anywhere now, so I fretfully crept back away
from the door. What was I going to do? I considered my options. I
could lurk in this room until Hunny-Bear left again. Or I could
creep back upstairs and hope he didn't hear me, and pretend as if I
never got up. Or I could rush downstairs and try to drown the little
bastard in the sink suds, but considering how successful I had been
in attempting to use physical violence when he was... ahem...
humping my face... that option seemed fairly doomed to failure.
Well, I didn't want any more "medicine" mixed into foods and force-
fed to me, that was for sure. Just thinking about it was making my
skin crawl, and itch a bit. Ugh. I decided to take my chances in
this room... what kind of room was it, anyway, I wondered? It seemed
like a familiar household "junk room" full of things that didn't fit
anywhere else in the house but people couldn't bring themselves to
throw away. Or cartoon bear-people, as it were. Odd.
I backed further into the recesses, trying to find a good hiding
spot in case Hunny-Bear was perceptive enough to search the spare
room when he found me missing. This led to my hand finding another
knob, which I turned carefully. This led me into a small closet,
from the feel of the clothes brushing against me. I smiled, and
closed the door behind me again. An excellent hiding spot.
Groping around, I found a chain hanging in the air, which I
impulsively tugged on. A trapdoor didn't open, but an ancient-
looking lightbulb did turn on above me, illuminating the closet.
This allowed me to see that there was a rustic-looking, dust-covered
full-length mirror in the back, opposite the closet door. Intricate
woodwork made up the frame, but the glass had such a thorough
coating of dust it was literally unreflective.
Having time to kill, I grabbed one of the almost-as-dusty coats from
next to me (strangely human-sized, not bear-thing-sized) and used it
to rub the dust off the mirror, since it wasn't mine. Hey, my
clothes were already dirty enough, I didn't need them coated in dust
too! It took a couple attempts, constantly turning the fabric to
expose an un-dusty area, but I finally got enough of the polished
surface to show to get a look at my facial reflection.
And screamed. Well, almost. I managed to just catch myself, which
was amazing considering the circumstances. I looked like... a woman.
I mean, I didn't have any make-up on, or earrings, or anything, and
I was dressed in my manly hiking jacket and jeans, but... no one
would mistake my face for a man's. You know trannies who get their
faces dissected and rearranged so they can pass as girls easier?
Yeah, this knocked that kind of stuff out of the ballpark.
I wasn't a pin-up vixen, but, I mean, my face was a WOMAN'S. It
wasn't cartoonishly perfect - perfectly feminine; there were little
masculine feature here or there. But I mean, it was a woman's face.
Not a girly man's. I don't think "Hunny-Bear" could have paid a
doctor to do a job that good, is what I'm trying to get across. I
could see parts of "me" in it; the eyes were really similar, and the
general facial... I dunno... "pattern". But it was me, if I'd been
born as an X-blooded girl.
This wasn't just "swelling" from an "allergic reaction", or
whatever. My face was finer and softer, my nose was way smaller and
had a bit of an upturn instead of a hook. My cheeks stood out way
stronger, my lips were fuller and thicker - not bloated or weird,
just more prominent - and my chin was way pointier, and much
shorter. And my forehead... wow, it seemed tiny. I pulled my hair
back and was amazed and very confused to see my M-shaped hairline
now a perfect line again, like when I was... I dunno... 8 years old.
Everything was softer and smoother. My eyelashes were longer and
thicker.
The only really masculine feature was my eyebrows, which were still
fairly unruly - thought a bit thinner in coverage and length - and
had a bit of unibrow-threatening stray hairs in-between them. But I
guess most girls' eyebrows aren't perfect, huh? So that actually
creeped me out, because it was like my body had changed genetically,
instead of being cosmetically tampered with. I shook that thought
out of my mind quickly, though, because it was ludicrous.
Shaking my head made me aware of two things quite clearly: my
bouncing chest, and my hair whipping my face. I dunno if I mentioned
this already, but my hair is usually cut very short. I don't like
hiking with even-remotely-grown hair because it bugs me in windy
weather and is just asking for bugs and branches and crap to get
stuck in it. But no, here was my hair, and it was chin-length after
being a centimeter long when I started on that hike. That doesn't
happen in 3 days. So either I was out for way longer than I thought,
or something really freaky was -
But that's when I noticed the color, too. Usually my hair is a very,
very dark brown, to the point of most people referring to it as
"black". This hair was not just chin-length, but sandy blond. No,
not gross unnatural platinum-blond or glorious shining golden blond.
Sandy blond. The kind the girl-next-door has and nobody pays any
attention to. But that's not the point. The point is, my black hair
was now sandy blond. I did a double-take. Though I had completely
looked past it a few moments ago, so were my eyebrows... and
eyelashes! And were those... was that a light spray of freckles on
my face? And if my chest kept jiggling - no way. No way!
That did it. I frantically rubbed the mirror up and down its whole
length, feeling my chest, appropriately, keep jiggling like mad,
until I had the entire polished surface clear. Trembling, I stepped
back so I could see my whole body at once and lowered my jacket.
Boobs. I had boobs. There was no calling this "pectoral swelling,"
these were tits. Apparently that "infection" had caused spontaneous
gynecomastia on top of everything else. Though, glancing back at my
face, I wasn't sure "gynecomastia" was really the right condition
here, not anymore. Then I started thinking about the Greek roots and
realized maybe it was the right -
I shook my head, and continued gaping at my chest. Big, plump,
fully-formed areola looking like any healthy girl I had ever banged
were radiating out from the tips of my boobs. And big, No. 2 pencil-
eraser-sized nipples were standing out perkily, aroused to attention
by all the movement and clothes-rubbing. They were pink. And they
were big, giant nipples on my chest. And they were crowns on top of
boobs. Big, huge, enormous boobs.
Well... alright. They were probably middle-B cups. Maybe a little
larger, definitely not much less. I think average-sized B-cups is a
good estimate, if my memory serves me. But you know, when you've
never had boobs before, suddenly seeing B-cups on yourself feels
really, really big.
I tentatively touched one. It didn't hurt that bad. At least they
weren't feeling so sore, now. It was very sensitive, though, just
not in a painful way. I jumped a little at the touch, and then
touched some more. I thumbed a nipple a bit in disbelief. But I
didn't spiral into a masturbatory fest, because my eyes snapped to
the rest of my body.
Like my narrower shoulders. My lithe arms. My dainty little hands!
My tinier feet! My smoother, streamlined kneecaps and legbones. My
hips! Yow! I was shorter... maybe 5'7" now? And my hairless chest...
goodbye sternum-fuzz and happy-trail. My narrower ribcage, my...
wow, my waist. I mean, listen, I was not a knockout. I wasn't
Playboy material. Maybe I was cam-girl material. But, you know,
nothing jaw-dropping compared to any other reasonably fit and active
26-year-old woman. Or man-turned-woman, apparently. But from my
perspective, all these average female proportions looked like the
curviest porn star ever because, you know, I was very used to my
thick, rectangular, flat, boxy, upside-down-pyramid male self.
I think my mind was deliberately avoiding the final check, so I
turned around and noticed my firm, curvy butt and thicker thighs.
While I was there I observed my slightly padded, curvier hips, in
addition to the increased width I noticed a few moments ago. It was
nothing like the ludicrous swelling I encountered before Hunny-Bear
found me. Was this what was happening? I wondered. Was I turning
into a girl, back then? Was that what this whole "toxin" business
had really been? Or was I still hallucinating? Was I ever
hallucinating? Anyway... these curves, these swollen bits, looked
like a healthy, everyday woman instead of the victim of the world's
worst case of localized anaphylactic shock.
The switch finally clicked in my mind, and my eyes let go of the
blind spot they'd been kindly treating me to. I turned back around.
Yes, there it was. A smooth curve into my thighs, with a healthy
growth of bushy, muffy, unshaved feminine pubic hair. In the same
sandy-blonde color. I think I was so shocked already that this news
didn't crash into me quite as severely as it ought have, so I just
lightly touched it, shivered in confusion and disorientation at the
familiar wet, rubbery feeling mixed among the grainy hairs, and then
blinked a few times.
Then I looked at my shoulders, and noticed the light spray of pale
freckles extending across them. Well, this was all very weird, and
now I had a cunt and a girl's body and I was probably experiencing
all of this inside a mental institution and -
CLUD-THUMP!
The sound of the refrigerator down below swinging closed startled me
out of my dazed reverie. I began frantically gathering up the
clothes -
"Don't worry," a sharp voice said to me, sounding very much like a
gruff 1930s detective. I turned to see a fist-sized spider with more
of those big, Japanese-comics eyeballs and a big, straight-combed
moustache. A tiny cigar hung out of its mouth. "The bussie-bopper -
"
I screamed, and picked up the first weapon that came into reach,
which was a shoebox.
"Hey wait kid - " began the talking spider. I smashed it hard enough
to break its web-line and send it into the nearby wall, then brought
the box down several more times until it was a grisly, gooey mess,
its little cigar smoldering pathetically inside its cracked jaw. One
giant, cartoonish eyeball was smashed to oozing bits, the other
stared up at me lifelessly.
Admittedly, I probably overreacted. But when you've been face-fucked
by a talking cartoon bear in a trucker hat, begged by a pornographic
rabbit to rub her tits, and exposed to a dandelion that's apparently
toxic enough to change your physical sex, you become very unwilling
to risk any further encounters with enchanted animal hallucinations.
The only thought that crossed my mind had nothing to do with
remorse, but rather the sudden fear that this spider was Hunny-
Bear's friend. Not wanting to be subject to a murder trial in this
demented plot of forest, I quickly scraped the cracked and oozing
remnants of its body into the shoebox and placed it back on the
shelf in an inconvenient location under several heavier shoeboxes. A
few moustache hairs remained stubbornly glued to the floor, stuck to
a puddle of dried ichor. I moved a pile of clothes in the corner so
that it covered up the evidence and then quickly crept out of the
closet, making sure to turn the light off.
As I exited, I heard footsteps outside the door. I froze, waiting
and listening... they were on the staircase, going up to my room. I
stood stock-still. I hear Hunny-Bear let out a gasp of surprise,
then sound quite worried as he called my name repeatedly. I could
hear my guest room being rummaged through rapidly, then the sound of
a tray being set down and Hunny-Bear's footsteps coming down the
stairwell.
My heart pounded in my chest. I'd never be able to move to a hiding
place fast enough if he opened the second-floor door. The footsteps
came closer down the stairs, one step at a time, each one taking
forever as the blood pounded in my ears and I felt a sheen of sweat
flow over me, clutching my clothes tightly for comfort...
And the footsteps kept going. They continued down the stairs, then I
heard another door opening, some clothes being put on, and the sound
of Hunny-Bear hurrying out the front door, muttering what sounded
like "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!" over and over again. I heard the
front door slam, and waited several agonizing minutes before
creeping forward, dressing myself quickly and -
No, wait. My man-shirt still rubbed against my new nipples way too
much, so off it came. Again. I tied it around my neck as a crude
scarf to keep my hands free, patted the cell phone in the pocket of
my jacket reassuringly, closed my eyes, and turned the knob.
I stepped out into the stairwell without being leapt upon or
triggering some cartoonish booby-trap (which seemed Freudianly
ironic), and let out a relieved breath. It was still odd to feel my
chest rise so obviously when I did that. The lights were still on in
the ground-floor living area, so I was able to creep down fairly
effectively. I was glad the oak-house had so few windows, so that my
silhouette wouldn't be obvious from a distance.
With enormous trepidation, I opened the front door and stepped
(okay, lurched, what with the 5-foot ceiling) quickly outside.
- X -
I glanced around rapidly, looking like an idiot trying to imitate a
spy film, and then sank back into the shadows against the curve of
the big oak-house's trunk. It felt odd to feel my soft, firm butt
press against a hard surface without immediately hitting bone. The
forest was very, very dark. It was obviously nighttime, since what
had looked "dark" the first two times I was out here seemed utterly
lucent by comparison now. Absolutely no light was filtering through
the dense pine canopy, and that made things frighteningly pitch.
After counting to 50... it was still really dark. Alright, so
there's only so much you can do when there's no ambient light at
all. I resolved to get as far away as I could by touch, then:
anything was better than being trapped here, turned into a female,
and fed some freaky cum "medicine"! Was this some sort of... Indian
shaman? Was I involved in some spirit-ritual? Could I get any more
culturally ignorant?
I sighed, and struck out, literally sticking my arms in front of me
and groping, moving by feel. The entire time, the terrified notion
that I could be caught by Hunny-Bear, leaping out from any angle
from the 360-degree ink-black darkness, was ever-present in the back
of my mind. I kept trying to take deep breaths to calm my heart, and
was still perplexed by the feeling of my boobs rising and falling.
After what felt like 20 minutes of slow, anxietal progress, I heard
something in the distance. Hunny-Bear? Wolves? Oh god, I felt like
crying.
Then I saw the glow. A lantern. Please be a hunter, or a boy scout,
or... or a golden cartoon bear-thing in a red T-shirt with an
adorable little overcoat tied tight around his rotund abdomen. He
was wandering around in the distance, calling out my name
periodically. Well, calling out "Bussie-Bopper" periodically. I
really didn't enjoy thinking of that as my "name" at that moment.
I groaned inwardly. Of course, of all the random, blind paths I
could stumble through the forest, I had managed to run myself right
into Hunny-Bear and his demented search effort. My breathing was
rapid and hyperventilated now, but I did my best to grope for the
silhouette of a large tree trunk and crouch down behind it, opposite
the light source. Hunny-Bear continued into the distance, the sounds
of my name being called fading.
I was shivering in the cool forest night. My nipples were rock-hard,
which was never very noticeable before but was now very hard to
ignore. I felt hungry, since I hadn't had dinner. I was cold. I was
miserable. I was even a little itchy, from crouching among the
debris of the forest floor. I sniffled a little. I started to cry,
silently and stoically, refusing to actively sob but finding it
therapeutic to let my frustrations leak out of my face. Deep down, I
was terrified he'd find me again, and determined to stay alert the
whole night.
I think I fell asleep five minutes later.
- XI -
I awoke to biting cold. My eyes snapped open. Oh god! Huh? Whuzza!
That disoriented set of random gibberish that flies through your
brain when you realize you've fallen asleep with important business
unfinished was ricocheting around inside my skull, and my skin had
that weird, pulsing hot/cold sensation that uncomfortable sleep
seems to bring upon waking. My head shot around like a nervous
sparrow, trying to make sure I wasn't bound, or gagged, or bound and
gagged, or otherwise recaptured.
Unbelievable relief flooded over me as I realized, from the brighter
dim surroundings, that it was early morning. And Hunny-Bear hadn't
found me. I felt for my cell phone, the reassuring little false god
that I currently worshiped as a source of impending salvation, and
was happy to find it still in my jacket pocket. I stiffly stood up;
a night crouched against a tree trunk not being ambrosia for the
joints.
And noticed I still had boobs. Every time I woke up, I seemed to
become aware of yet another thing I desperately wanted to remain
behind me in the land of dreams. Somehow, minds seem highly capable
of being very shrewd in prioritizing concerns when it's really
important, and at that moment my body turning female was a concern
marginalized in the face of escaping from the hellish clutches of
Hunny-Bear and Friends.
So I quickly glanced around once more, and then began walking again.
I was able to make progress much quicker now that I could navigate
by sight again, but was hobbled by the problem of having absolutely
no sense of direction. I didn't know which way the oak-house was,
exactly, or where the crest I had found before was. Since I
remembered which side of the tree I had hid on, I knew which
direction I had been coming from when I stopped last night. And
since that was my best guess as to which way the oak-house was, I
went with my best chance of leaving it behind and kept going in the
direction I had been when I stumbled upon Hunny-Bear the night
before.
It was odd feeling my boobs jounce with each footfall. At first I
tried holding them in place with one arm, but with my nipples
already erect from the crisp morning air, that created too many
interesting and distracting sensations. I preferred not to be
reminded of my new anatomy - or my imagined anatomy - or, god,
whatever! Anyway, I didn't want to think about anything other than
escaping. So I just kept walking, and walking, and constantly
glancing at my cell phone. No Service. No Service. No Service. No
Service. No Service. Argh!
This went on for about an hour. I can say this fairly accurately
thanks to the faithful digital clock on my cell phone's display,
which, incidentally, also revealed it was Wednesday. That meant I'd
been lost in the woods for four days now, and was starting in on a
fifth one. I sincerely hoped that soon, my absence would be enough
to trigger a search-and-rescue effort even if I never managed to
find a pocket of cell reception. Though, considering my
aforementioned tendencies toward working on my own schedule, I
didn't get my hopes up. Disappearing for a week at a time wasn't
unheard of from me, and I was acutely regretting what was previously
a point of independent pride.
I hadn't thought to look at the date display when I first found my
cell phone in Hunny-Bear's storage room, distracted as I was with
typing my escape message and then staying hidden. But once it
occurred to me that morning, after I had started out again and made
my first check for a service signal, the knowledge gave me something
to think about while walking.
Four days? I could only count three. The first day, when the whole
mess started, that ended with me passing out. Based on the lighting
in my memory, waking up inside the oak-house must have been the
second day. And waking up in my bed at the oak-house a second time,
when I got breakfast-in-bed, would make a third day. Dusk when I
made my escape would be the evening of the third day, and today,
Wednesday, should be the start of the fourth day out here.
But it wasn't, it was the start of a fifth day. In an already
disturbing situation, finding yourself with a day-long gap in your
memory only exacerbated it. What was in that medicine? Just how long
had I been passed out, or delirious in bed being spoon-fed ... bear
spunk? My stomach growled suddenly at the thought of Hunny-Bear's
"medicine" and its strange, permeatingly sweet flavor. "I'm not that
hungry," I murmured morosely, trying to shake off the sensation that
it almost sounded... good.
Anyway, continued my thoughts, either my reaction to that dandelion-
looking plant's toxin was much more severe than I thought (not
unlikely, given the severity of the swelling), or that Hunny-Bear
guy... thing... cartoon bear... whatever! had drugged me into a coma
for a day, or...
Toxin? I glanced down at my body, my slightly-swinging hips, my
rounded, bouncing chest, my thinner, smoother limbs and my tinier
hand clutching my cell phone, with my now-oversized clothing draped
over these features as I brushed my now-blond... blonde? Whatever!
hair out of my face. This was no "toxin". Even if this was a
hallucination, this sure felt real enough to make me believe I had a
female body at that moment. Plants don't just do that to you.
Something very weird was going on. I mean, that was obvious a long
time ago, but -
- XII -
MY thoughts were suddenly stopped cold as I came upon a familiar
sight: a thrashed-up area among the leaves and dirt of the forest
floor, with a shallow rut of disturbed litter leading away from it
in a meandering pattern into the distance.
I was back at the spot I had been found by Hunny-Bear. No. On closer
examination, I was back at the spot I had first fallen over under
the weight of my hilariously-bloated ass. I turned to look at my
curvier, softer backside, and giggled lightly. My butt may have felt
big, but when I compared it to my memory of the initial swellings,
it was nothing. I playfully smacked my bottom and again stood in
bewilderment at the cushier, padded sensation.
Then I snapped out of it and got back to business. If I was here,
that meant... And indeed, a glance into the distance revealed the
oak-house. Lovely. I had somehow circled back to nearly where I
started. Or perhaps, in the dark the night before, I had groped my
way into a semicircle instead of a straight line away from the oak-
house. As I thought about it, briefly, I realized that I must have
spent the last hour walking on an extremely long diagonal that was
taking me away from oak-house, but not in the direction I originally
intended, and far too slowly.
It was bad, but it was also a landmark, and that counted for a lot.
I could actually attempt clusmy navigation now, if I managed to keep
out of reach of Hunny-Bear and his terrifying home remedies. "Just
stay calm and keep moving," I muttered to myself shakily.
Let's hit Pause in our minds and let me take a moment to comment on
my voice. You might have been expecting, with my entire body
becoming feminized, some comment or other about how my voice was now
tinkly and gay like a gentle spring breeze over a crystal windchime.
It wasn't. It still sounded almost exactly like it always had, which
is why I've yet to make any observation about it. I'm not an
otolaryngologist, so I have no idea how to explain that.
*-*-*
But our friend here, Owl Nightlong, is the wisest inhabitant of the
whole forest! Owl, would you care to comment?
"Why yes," comments the studious-looking owl with squinting eyes,
adjusting its bifocal spectacles to sit properly on its beak. "You
see," it begins, pulling down a medical diagram of the throat,
"Puberty alters the male voice due to an enlargement of the larynx,
which forces the vocal folds (which vibrate to create vocalizations)
to grow longer and thicker. Assuming a female body was created by
outside forces rearranging genetics bit-by-bit, it's entirely
plausible to have an overtly female form externally but still have
an unmodified voice box inside the throat, which would allow a
'masculine' voice to escape from an otherwise womanly body."
Wow! Well, thanks as always for your wonderful insight, Ms.
Nightlong! And with a flurry of feathers, there she goes, off to
pore over some more books in her librartree.
*-*-*
Alright. But interesting as that may be, I had shit clue about it at
the time. In fact, honestly, it didn't even occur to me. Trust me,
when your whole body seems to poof from male to female in the course
of one nap, it just doesn't sink in very strongly. So when you still
hear your normal voice, you don't go "oh gee, I sound so un-
womanly!" You just hear something familiar, and don't even think
about it because, well, it's familiar.
Right. So there I was, a precarious 100-or-so meters away from my
place of bondage, knowing that my tormentor or his creepy
anthropomorphic faunal servants could leap out at any moment and
capture me. I grimly "flexed" my arm and laughed despite myself at
the sad little curve that tried to imitate a bicep. Alright, so I
had girly muscles to go along with the body. I'd be even easier to
overpower than before.
That thought sent a little thrill through me. That probably wasn't
right, but things had been so thoroughly fucked-up the last several
days I was willing to allow room for some odd thoughts in my addled
brain, and just let it go. I scratched lightly at my shoulder as I
tried to come to a decision about which way to go.
Yes, the itching had continued. It was mild, but it hadn't gone away
since it came to my attention, crouched down and hiding behind the
tree trunk the night before. A paranoid part of me thought it was
getting a little worse. I thought about the "medicine". A pang hit
my stomach. Not really my stomach, but a holistic entity
encompassing my stomach, tongue, throat, and brain. So maybe I had
an "appetite pang" as opposed to a "hunger pang". Well, I tried to
shake it off, whatever it was. But my mind drifted back.
I was itching. Hunny-Bear said the itching was caused by the
dandelion-thing, and I believed it based on my original experience.
And he said his medicine cured the condition. I didn't itch when I
was in bed at the oak-house. Was he telling the truth?
I shook my head, battering my cheeks with soft sandy hair. No. That
was dumb. I was violating basic concepts of logical investigation. A
magical cartoon bear whose cock dispenses medicine was not the
simplest or most plausible explanation. A severe allergic reaction
that swelled me up, using a lot of my bodily fluids in the process,
and thus dried my skin out, making me much more susceptible to
itching in the dry, cold, pine-forest air... now we were getting
somewhere! And everything else was the product of severe
psychoaffective chemicals inside that plant.
But... I looked down. Why did I have a female body? A hallucination,
of course, like all of this. OK. Sure. That was as good an
explanation as any, and explanations make scared people feel better.
So I felt better, and just needed to find a way to contact the
outside world.
I scratched my cheek lightly, and spun in a slow circle. Approaching
oak-house was out of the question ("Even if I am imagining this").
In the opposite direction of oak-house, approximately, must be the
meadow. On one hand, the meadow was a gateway back to the trail, if
I could search more thoroughly, and then I'd be home free! Plus, I
could take some of these dandelion-things with me and make a killing
selling them as black-market hallucinogens. On the other hand... I
quivered involuntarily at the thought of encountering Carrot Topless
again, or accidentally incurring another furious, paralyzing
allergic reaction to the plants in that place.
The alternative was marching off blindly into the forest again. I
could go back to the crest - it would be easy to find now that I
knew where oak-house was - but if Hunny-Bear's mugril was kept in a
barn on the other side of the hill, I'd risk running right into my
captor. Or I could just strike out into the forest with deliberately
no goal, hoping I found the mountains or high ground or a campground
or... anything. Hopefully a detox center, I thought sardonically.
The more I thought about it, the more the meadow seemed clearly the
way to go. I knew for certain that it connected back to familiar
territory, I would be able to monitor the position of the sun and
develop a rough mental compass, and since it was such a wide-open
clearing I might even get a cell signal! My heart danced in my chest
as I realized just how perfectly this might work out. All I had to
do was find the meadow again, and I could do that by keeping a
careful eye out for the disturbed underbrush that followed my
stumbling haze after I was first afflicted.
- XIII -
THIS proved more daunting that it had sounded when I first set out.
For one thing, the itching was coming back full-force now. Not as
bad as it originally was, but it had upgraded from "mild background
presence" to "excuse me, but I need to go buy hydrocortisone cream".
If only I could have. I grumbled dejectedly and tried to resist
scratching.
But the bigger impediment was just how convoluted a path I had taken
after crashing into the forest following my original experience in
the meadow. I guess it's hard to follow a straight line when you're
constantly sneezing and your eyes are so swollen and watery you can
barely identify your own hand. So I found myself taking an
irritatingly roundabout, looping hike as I carefully retraced my
footsteps back whence they came. I didn't dare deviate, though,
because that could easily get me totally lost in the forest all over
again.
I had woken that morning at 5:45 AM, according to my cell's digital
clock. It was 7:05 AM when I started following my path back toward
the meadow. At 10:22 AM, I finally noticed the tree growth thinning
a bit, and a flood of relief washed over me. I still had a little
ways to go, but it was obvious my effort wasn't all for naught.
Curiously, I had been noticing some incongruous disturbances in the
litter where my trail was. I was by no means a tracker, but certain
irregularities kept standing out in what had become a familiar
pattern of debris shifted around by my footfalls and kicks. It was
almost like another animal had been trailing me. That made my blood
run cold. Images of a hungry wolf, mountain lion, or black bear
sniffing intently at my sweaty, feverish scent-trail, salivating at
the thought of a wounded animal and an easy meal, flashed through my
head. Thank god Hunny-Bear had found me when he did!
I shook my head violently. Why did I keep thinking of this as real?
I bit back tears at the sinking realization I might be genuinely
mentally ill. I kept worrying about "running into the rabbit" or
"what Hunny-Bear would do to me" or... I had taken general psych in
college and was reasonably educated enough to have a vague
understanding of severe mental disorders. I knew that some, like
schizophrenia, could often descend upon people rapidly and with
little warning, consuming their life. Wasn't high stress a good
trigger for certain psychological disorders to manifest? What was
more stressful than being hopelessly lost in dangerous wilderness?
I stopped, took a very deep breath, noticed my boobs rising, as had
become the usual, and let it out slowly. With an enormous effort, I
convinced myself to calm down and just focus on getting through
this. Everything else could be sorted out once I knew I was going to
live past the week.
Pausing gave me a chance to examine the surroundings a bit. I had
been keeping such a brisk pace this whole time, what with the over-
long path I had to wind through, that I had been focused rather
myopically on the ground right in front of my feet and making sure I
didn't lose the subtle disturbances in the undergrowth that would
keep me headed home.
So, deciding I had made sufficient headway - it was only 10:29 AM
now - I paused, caught my breath, glanced around at the beauty of
the forest. Tall, thick pine trunks dotted my vision, and a rich
forest floor of ferns, grasses, and other plants poking up out of a
heavy layer of dead needles, dry leaves, twigs, logs, branches,
dirt, mushrooms, lichen, moss, and little scurrying bugs here and
there filled in the gaps between the trees. The air was still cool
and crisp, though a lot more light was filtering in at this point,
and the thick, earthy scent of the soil mixed with the rich pine
aroma to make for a very satisfying smell.
I was about to keep moving when I noticed that a cluster of
mushrooms - just to the side of the disturbed litter that marked my
trail - had been eaten recently. Probably some enterprising forest
rodent, like a squirrel or raccoon, I pondered. The chew marks were
still quite visible and the remaining mushroom caps and stalks had
only mildly browned and wilted, indicating it was a recent meal. My
heart thrummed a little; I hoped I wasn't seeing the experimental
meal of a bear cub or something.
In fact, wow, was it ever recent - I could still see some shiny
saliva on the mushroom stalks where they had been bitten off!
Stooping closer, my curiousity outweighing my fear, I realized it
wasn't saliva. It was too thick, looked too viscous, had a mildly
golden hue, and was semi-opaque. But it was shiny, which is what had
given me the initial impression. Let me put it this way: if it was
saliva, it was the kind of saliva exuded by Star Wars monsters, not
any animal I'd ever heard of.
Was the thing sick? Maybe it was bear-snot, or pus oozing from a
wound. Maybe the mushrooms were toxic and caused blisters to form as
soon as some hapless fox brushed against them. I kept examining the
shiny slime, fascinated by how it had gotten there. I leaned in for
an even closer look, sniffing the air to see if it had a readily-
identifiable scent. Maybe it was some amphibian's slimy eggs. Maybe
a giant snail had eaten these mushrooms! Maybe -
Before I really realized what I was doing, an urge that had been
building at the back of my muscles suddenly sprung into control, and
I slid my finger into the viscous goo and stuck it into my mouth,
sucking it clean. Then I spit furiously.
What was I doing? Was I retarded? Who knew what that stuff was! It
could be diseased or poisonous! And if it wasn't, the mushrooms
probably were! I crouched there, clutching my stomach anxiously,
contemplating sticking a finger down my throat to make myself throw
up. That actually sounded kind of fun, but that wasn't the point. I
pondered my actions for a few more seconds.
Then I ripped the mushrooms out of the ground and began sucking
eagerly on their bitten stems, taking every last drop and trace of
the goo off of them. After a frenzied 30 seconds or so, I finally
detected I was just sucking on raw mushroom, and disinterestedly
tossed the clump of fungi onto the dirt near me.
And once again, my actions finally registered with me. I had been
vaguely aware I was doing something stupid, but so overwhelmed with
the urge to do so that I had utterly ignored my saner protests. Now
I crouched on the ground, feeling rather nauseous and disturbed. Why
did I do that? I was probably going to get sick now, if not from
some woodland creature's STD, then from some mushroom toxin or just
common disease-spreading microorganisms that lurked on unclean
surfaces.
Well, I tried to feel nauseous and disturbed. Truth be told, I felt
pretty fine. Good, even. My stomach felt better, and even the
itching seemed to have gone down... a little. I sort of felt like a
little kid being chastised by an adult for trying to run around
naked. Like, I hadn't done anything wrong, and I knew it felt right,
but the authoritative part of my brain felt compelled to scold me
anyway more out of pressured habit than any real good reason.
I looked down. Was my body really female? Or was I rocking in the
corner of a mental asylum cafeteria, sucking on a spoon I was
hallucinating into a clump of mushrooms? Or, you know, something
along those lines? If so, why did everything feel so real? Why
didn't this experience have any of those characteristic dream-tics
that clued you in that physics and reality weren't quite applying?
Sure, lots of weird... really weird... shit was happening, but it
all followed, I dunno, the logical rules of existence. It didn't
feel like a dream or a delusion.
Then again, I thought grimly as I stood up, don't delusional people
often think their experiences are totally real? Isn't that the whole
problem with being delusional? I sighed. This wasn't getting me
anywhere, and with a glance at my cell phone - No Service,
Wednesday, 10:34 AM - I gathered my wits back together, spat a few
more times to get the admittedly harmless flavor out of my mouth,
and then focused back on the trail I was following.
- XIV -
I was right when I observed that the trees were thinning noticeably,
because after 10 more minutes of walking, I could see peeks of the
vibrant green meadow in the distance, and hear its trickling blue
stream. My heart danced even more. I was going to survive this! I
was going to get out of this!
5 minutes after that, the running of the water was very audible, a
light breeze could be heard rustling the grasses of the meadow, and
some of the Crayola-colors of the giant flowers were beginning to
show up quite clearly through the grasses. And a light humming
sound, sort of like singing, could be heard. My blood froze. Was
Carrot Topless back? Well, what if she was? I'd just punt her away
at first sight this time and keep going. The only thing that harmed
me the first time was that the freakish little lagomorph had the
element of surprise on me.
10:54 AM, and I was at the break in the trees where the meadow
started decisively. I crept out of the taller grasses that girded
the forest's edge, peering carefully into the meadow. The humming -
now clearly soft singing - was still audible, but I didn't care. I
was getting out of here. I walked out into the meadow officially,
the brightly-colored imagery and the very bright blue stream
matching my memory perfectly.
And the sun was out! The warmth felt good after being in the cool
forest for so long. I closed my eyes and basked in the sensation for
a bit. If I waited here an hour or so, I could watch the direction
of the sun and -
The singing. With my eyes closed, I placed the direction it was
coming from easier, and also realized it had gotten closer. No - I
had gotten closer, when I stepped into the meadow. It was coming
from my left, which was out of my line-of-sight when I first entered
the area. I slowly opened my eyes and turned in the direction of the
soft little song.
And saw the pile of gray rocks next to the stream. The rocks that
Carrot Topless had been sitting on originally.
But Carrot Topless wasn't sitting on them.
Hunny-Bear was.
And he was looking directly at me with a happy smile on his face, as
if he'd been watching me ever since I first showed up at the edge of
the meadow.
As if he'd been waiting on that rock for hours.
As if I'd just walked right into his trap like a stupid little girl.
As if his already-erect penis had been waiting for me, too.
- XV -
He smiled at me warmly and pointed one arm-paw at it, as if inviting
me cordially.
My eyes flicked from his warm smile and sincere, twinkling, beady
little eyes, down toward his penis. They didn't have to flick very
far, since it was so long for his body. So large. So big. And huge.
And thick. And smooth. And so very erect.
My mouth was watering, and my lips were quivering a little. I
fumbled clumsily for my cell phone, my eyes never leaving his erect
penis. I tried to tear them away, but quickly lost patience with
that battle and just held the cell phone's display in between my
eyes and his penis, allowing me to switch focus to look at it.
No Service.
I turned to run. Well, I turned. My legs were shaking a little, and
it was hard to make them move, like they had wet cement in place of
muscle. I yelled over my shoulder: "Y-you're not keeping me here!
I'm not going to be your captive or slave or whatever!"
I waved the cell phone above me frantically, my arm feeling like
jelly. "See this? I've... I've sent a text message out. They're
going to send help! They're going to come help me!"
Silence. Hunny-Bear didn't reply. I risked a glance over my
shoulder, making sure to will my eyes to stay on his face. He was
just smiling at me bemusedly. I almost started crying, but held it
back.
"I... I'm getting out of here! Don't chase me or you'll... or
they'll probably find you and... and arrest you!" My voice was
quivering. I tried to run but found myself taking sluggish, shaky
steps. I didn't even know where I was going. I didn't have time now
to check the sun's direction, or carefully search for the old path
that had lead me to this meadow originally. It would be a hopeless
dash, but I could get away from him and find a signal pocket and -
"Oh, Bussie-Bopper!" he exclaimed in a friendly, sympathetic tone,
"I do feel so terrible tricking you, but it's for your own good! If
other people found you, why, they'd take you away, and then your
condition would get much worse!"
I turned back to look at Hunny-Bear, slowly and shakily. My stomach
felt cold already.
"I love all the new friends I meet so very dearly. I can't bear to
see one consumed and destroyed by the bussie-bopper infection! If I
didn't keep you here, oh, you'd think you were getting to safety,
but then you'd realize just how dire a situation you were in... and
it'd be too late to save you then! I'd never find you in time!"
Hunny-Bear's expression seemed genuinely apologetic now. My stomach
sank further.
"W..." I began, my voice rattling horribly with anxiety and...
something else. "W-What did you... what did you do?" I asked, my
voice falling apart but my intense feminine eyes piercing, warning
daggers.
Hunny-Bear threw his arms up and let them flop down as he let out a
dejected, exasperated sigh. "Oh, my dear friend, my dear Bussie-
Bopper! I had to! I had to tear the little antenna out of your
cellular telephone, you see, because I had a feeling you might try
to use it to escape! And that would be bad for you, so bad for you,
I simply couldn't allow it!"
I didn't even reply. I just slowly turned the cell phone over and
looked closely at the antenna area. A thin line - around the label
that warned you not to put your finger there while talking, lest you
disturb your signal - was the only indication it had been tampered
with. I pressed my shaking fingernail into it and worked a gooey,
glue-like substance out, absent-mindedly sucking it off my
fingertip. The re-positioned plastic popped off, and inside what had
once been the antenna technology was an empty, mangled mess with a
few scraps of shattered, gold-plated green plastic still wedged
inside.
My eyes stared, but at nothing in particular. I was defeated. Found,
trapped, and my one weapon totally robbed from me. Far away, I heard
the cell phone slide out of my hand and hit the ground below with a
dull plastic 'paff'.
I was going to turn, or run, or... I don't know. I was going to do
something, keep fighting, keep trying to escape. But then Hunny-Bear
coughed lightly, and I looked over to him. His cock was still
quivering erectly in the bright meadow sunlight. The pang in my
appetite ripped through me again. The itching of my skin came to my
attention once more. The shaking in my legs, the quivering in my
body, the cold electric feeling up and down my spine... it wasn't
fear, this whole time. I kept ignoring it, but it was giddy, guilty,
secret desire being forced to fruition. And now my hopes were broken
and there was nothing to dangle in front of my brain as a shield.
I felt the short, crisp grass of the meadow slide and rustle under
my bare feet. I felt my jacket sliding off my shoulders, my shirt
being tugged distantly off my neck. I felt my tiny, rounded little
feet step first one, then the other out of my dropped trousers.
I felt my feet contact the cold, clean water of the stream for one,
two, three, four, and a half steps. Splish, splash, splish... Then
they were drying in the sunlight. I felt myself take a few more
steps until I was in front of the pile of gray rocks that served as
the throne of my tormentors twice now.
My knees felt the grass brush them, gently, tickling. My field of
vision was dominated by a smooth, golden, thick cock with delightful
little ripples and veins bulging out its surface aesthetically, all
13 erect inches of it. The girth was mind-boggling.
I saw my hands reach out, tiny, smooth, pretty little hands attached
to thin little limbs, and both wrap around it, fingertips just
overlapping, holding it worshipfully, the amazing warmth radiating
into my palms wonderfully.
I saw his face smiling down eagerly at me, looking friendly and
caring instead of lustful and dominating. I was almost disappointed.
I saw his cock again. I saw it tilting towards me as my hands
manoeuvered it, and then I saw it getting closer, and closer... my
heart battering against my chest like it might explode at any
moment, I smelled the delightful scent of a fresh, healthy cock, and
then my lips were around its head, giving it an exploratory suck,
and then, satisfied, they descended further, hungrily, seeking more,
more...
I felt a place between my legs flare up with heat and begin leaking
down my thighs. Floating above it all, I gloried in the visceral
presence of these unfurling new genitals.
I felt my mouth fill, then cram, then become painfully stretched as
my eyes stared at the little belly button on the plump golden
stomach I was trying to reach. Like floating through a dream, I just
kept working through the soreness, distending my jaw like an
anaconda, feeling inch after inch slide past my lips.
At some point I gave up on that goal, without really giving it much
thought, because it was becoming anatomically implausible. I didn't
really think of it that way, I just... got bored, I guess, and
backed up, feeling the glans pop back out of my throat.
I felt my hands roving up and down the length I couldn't fit in my
mouth as my tongue and lips played along happily while I bobbed up
and down slowly, sometimes drifting one hand to admiringly caress a
large and heavy testicle or just feel the thin, pleasant scrotal
skin. Hunny-Bear was so delightfully smooth all over.
This vague, far-away haze eventually broke as I felt the erection
tense, and I knew quite well what that would mean. Hunny-Bear let
out his adorable, happy gasp like before, and both of my hands flew
to his testicles, roving over them in slow, gentle strokes as my
lips took firm hold about a quarter of the way down his massive
penis. A supernova began to explode out from my brain and my crotch
simultaneously, making me quiver with pleasure and anticipation.
The familiar flavor burst, then oozed, into me orally, jet after jet
which I kept swallowing as fast as my throat muscles could manage.
That sweet, happy flavor permeated to every corner of my mouth,
flowed between my teeth, coated my tongue, laminated my throat,
seeped into my vocal chords and made them tingle with warmth,
comfort, delight...
I know it stopped coming... he stopped coming... at some point, but
I kept stubbornly sucking on the deflating cock, since that was fun
too, in a different way. Eventually I ended up with my head propped
against Hunny-Bear's thigh, lying lazily in his lap, sucking
methodically on his big, flaccid penis while he gently stroked my
sandy blonde hair. I closed my eyes and purred happily, basking in
the warm sunlight, the awesome cock, and the gentle affection.
"Oh, dear friend, I'm so glad I guessed right about where I'd find
you." he said softly, relief in his voice.
I reluctantly let the cock slide out of my fuller lips with a
muffled 'pop'. "Me too," I murmured, my voice soft and feminine,
then quickly used my tongue to get the cock back into my mouth as I
nuzzled closer to my Hunny-Bear.
- XVI -
I woke up once more to the feeling of warm, gentle sunlight
filtering onto my face, and a massive headache.
Well, not really. But it felt like I should have a headache. Does
that make any sense? Like, after all the intense experiences of the
previous day and night before, which were dancing at the fringes of
my memory and trailed off abruptly near the end, it seemed like an
appropriate time to wake up with a headache.
Instead, actually, I felt great. Just... refreshed, and cleansed,
and full of clarity and vigor. Better than I'd woke up in a long
time.
Then the grogginess cleared out of my head, and my eyes shot open.
Everything came flooding back. Including what had been in my mouth
in the last memory I had before waking up. I spat reflexively, my
skin crawling.
Well, that's what I would have liked to say. Instead I just thought
about it a bit, and couldn't manage to work up much reaction. In
fact, a tingly little thrill buzzed up my spine at the thought of
having Hunny-Bear's cock in my mouth. A vehement part of my mind
raged embarassedly that this was all wrong and I should feel
disgusted and violated, but... I just didn't.
A quick flip of the quilt revealed my body was still quite female as
well. I acknowledged this as weird and obligationally disturbing
also, but again, just couldn't work up more of a reaction than a
flippant shrug. I poked my right boob a few times and giggled at its
indignant, wobbling response, then lost interest. I just felt too
great to really care about anything. You know that feeling? Like
when you manage to get it just right and have a perfect night's
sleep, and you wake up feeling like your bed is the best place in
the whole world you could ever be, and the sheets feel like cozy
lovers you refuse to budge from, and even your biggest problems just
can't quite get through the happy energy circling your brain like an
electron cloud?
Yeah, I was feeling like that. So I just brushed a few strands of
hair out of my face - it hadn't seemed to have grown past its chin-
length - smiled dopily, and pulled the quilt back up over my head,
rolling onto my side for a little more savory sleep.
- XVII -
I woke up, again, to the feeling of warm sunlight tickling my face
out of sleep. I opened my eyes again, still feeling cozy and happy.
Wait, I realized. If I was feeling morning sunlight, then that
meant... did I sleep all of yesterday away? I fumbled for my cell
phone briefly before I stopped and realized why I didn't have it
with me, and that it was probably still on the ground in the Meadow.
I did feel a little infuriated about that. The nerve of Hunny-Bear,
breaking my property like that! And to keep me here? Like some
prisoner? Did he think I was just going to sit around and take it?
Glancing down, I realized I was indeed sitting around, under the
covers in his guest bed, luxuriating in how cozy I felt. Maybe he
had a point. I certainly didn't feel like escaping, not when I was
this comfy. Really, I was just mad that he would do that to my stuff
without explaining his reasoning first. That was a perfectly good
cell phone.
Not that I needed a cell phone anymore, though. I stopped. Had I
really just thought that? But at the moment, it seemed true. My
attempts to escape had all proven utterly pointless, and... and
Hunny-Bear seemed awfully nice, and it was a rather pleasant
environment here, very soothing, so little stress...
A part of me, a mischievous and dancing little devil riding up and
down my spine from my pelvis to my brain, was secretly adding
another reason: if I stayed, I'd get more of Hunny-Bear's cock. But
my brain ignored that one, like some prudish individual who tries to
avoid being associated with a friend who's creating a scene
somewhere by pretending not to know them.
The sound of short, padding footsteps caught my attention, ending my
internal musings. Hunny-Bear was coming up the stairs. On the
surface I tried to convince myself I didn't care at all, and
remained flat on my back, quilt covering me, head on the pillow,
idly pondering the ceiling. Deep down, my heart was skipping a
little, secretly excited.
He appeared at the top of the stairwell and I smiled involuntarily.
"Good morning, friend Bussie-Bopper!" he sang out cheerily, holding
a tray with another pitcher of cold milk, some poached eggs, and a
plate of steaming pancakes.
I couldn't help myself. I smiled brightly: "Good morning, Hunny-
Bear!" I sang out. My female voice startled me. It wasn't beautiful
or siren-like or what-have-you, but it definitely wasn't male. Not
even little boy. It was a woman's voice, quite decisively. But I
kept smiling regardless.
"Well!" he announced happily, "You finally seem to be in much better
spirits, friend!" He set the tray down on the wooden TV tray near my
bed. "Perhaps we've finally got that nasty bussie-bopper affliction
under control!"
That made me feel better, knowing Hunny-Bear thought I wasn't sick
any more. I looked back at the ceiling and closed my eyes, savoring
the aroma of the pancakes and eggs. And... something... else.
I opened my eyes and turned to ask Hunny-Bear if he'd brought any
other food, and found myself face-to-head with his erect cock. He
must have seen the startled look in my eyes: "The fresher the
medicine is, the better." he said gently, smiling wide.
My attempt at a show of indignance didn't even last long enough to
be vocalized. I couldn't take my eyes off the beautiful, fleshy,
erect rod of delicious masculine tastiness. Within a few moments I
had sat up in bed, turned, and wrapped my lips around it, giggling
with glee as I felt the bulging head push through into my mouth and
give way to the (slightly) narrower main shaft. My tongue and my
little hands joined the action enthusiastically, and soon I was
rocking and groaning with primal pleasure at having this thing
pumping in and out of me. The sensation of Hunny-Bear stroking my
hair approvingly just made it even better.
And then, all too soon, it was over, and I was swallowing my
medicine eagerly - but I wished I could have sucked for longer,
first. I tickled his testicles as he unloaded in my mouth, and he
giggled appreciatively and began flicking my nipples. That did it,
and I felt the pleasant electric burning wash over my body from head
to toe. Then he was done, and as he tried to back away from the bed
I firmly grasped his cock and held him in place until I had
vigorously licked him clean of any delicious excess. Then I flopped
back onto the bed like a toy whose batteries had run dead, breathing
slowly and dreamily in a lethargic, happy haze.
- XVIII -
I was woken - again - about 10 minutes later by Hunny-Bear rapping
his stubby little arm-paw against the top of my head over and over
again. "Up! Up, dozy friend! You can't sleep another whole day
away!"
I groaned and rolled over to face him, the fear, the distrust, the
confusion of previous times vacant from my eyes. Instead there was
just a glittering, happy admiration, a playful desire to know and
please him. "Do I have to?" I drawled, grinning lightly.
"Yes," he responded in a friendly manner, smiling, "I can tell the
bussie-boppers have stabilized, which means we've got to get you up
and about if we want your strength to come back!"
"Oh, very well," I pouted, sitting up and stretching luxuriously,
running my tongue over my lips with mischievous happiness. I tousled
my already-tousled hair a bit, then turned to look drowsily at the
tray. "I wouldn't want your delicious breakfast to go to waste,
after all."
"That's right!" he replied, then added: "Oh, friend Bussie! I am so,
so very glad you're in such better spirits!"
He set the tray on my lap and poured me a cold glass of mugril milk,
and we chatted while I ate.
"Aren't you hungry?" I asked, gesturing toward my plate invitingly.
He held up his stubby paw. "Oh, I've already eaten. Now that you're
feeling better, perhaps you can take breakfast downstairs with me
each morning?"
I smiled and nodded eagerly. "I'd love that!" I replied, hoping he
didn't notice my uncontrollable glance at his crotch.
A few seconds passed in silence as I started in on my poached eggs.
Then Hunny-Bear spoke up: "Friend Bussie, I would like to
apologize." I glanced at him and stifled a laugh. His expression was
so remorseful he looked like a wet cat.
"Yes?" I asked, trying to be solemn.
"For tampering with your cellular telephone." He glanced up toward
me furtively, trying to gauge my reaction, I assume.
I had expected to confront him about this ever since I woke up and
first thought about it. I had imagined the many angry things I would
say to him about violating my privacy, lying to me, tampering with
my personal possessions, and even risking my life and health!
But... now that I had the opportunity, I found myself forcing down a
smile. So he had trapped me here. So what? He meant well. And it
wasn't that much of a punishment, was it? Not with a cock like that
around, it wasn't!
My eyes went wide at what had just slipped out of my brain. Since
Hunny-Bear couldn't read my mind (at least, I don't recall him ever
doing that), he misinterpreted the look on my face as one of anger.
Hunkering down on the footstool, he covered his head with both arms
and groveled out another apology, repeating his earlier statements
about just trying to look out for me.
That was too cute. I just couldn't hold it in any more, and I burst
out laughing. He looked up, confused. "Hunny-Bear, don't worry your
little head about it. I was mad at you at first, but honestly,
you're just the nicest bear I've ever met, and I know you didn't
mean any harm by it. Let's just call it water under the bridge,
huh?"
He looked infinitely relieved, and smiled a big smile. I kept
staring at him, feeling an electric impulse building inside my
chest. Then, I shut out the embarassed part of my brain that kept
trying to hold me back, and gave in - I leaned forward and quickly
planted a kiss on the tip of his little black nose. He turned beet
red, and giggled nervously, staring at the floor, but smiling ear to
ear.
I turned back to my breakfast, feeling strangely... pleased that I
was able to make a guy nervous with a kiss. Isn't that what pretty
girls did? Which was an odd thought, but... Then another thing
crossed my mind, which was stirred up by thinking about the cell
phone. It concerned that other room I had found:
"Hey, Hunny-Bear..." I began.
"Yes?" he replied happily, then added: "You know, Bussie, you can
just call me 'Hunny'." He glanced at me shyly: "I mean, you know,
that is... if you like."
I felt more flirty tingles flush through me, and smiled. "Oh, of
course... Hunny." He smiled. "Anyway, uhm, I guess you know I
wandered into your storage room the other day."
"Oh?" he began, then continued: "Oh, of course, since you found your
cellular telephone. Yes, well, don't worry at all... my home is your
home, especially now!"
I blushed and smiled at his generosity. "Oh... well, thank you! But,
uhm, well I was wondering... the closet had a lot of clothes in it,
and..."
"And they were your size?" he finished.
I nodded. "Why?" If we're being completely honest, part of this was
motivated by a newfound sense of possessiveness about Hunny-Bear. I
was a little, well, paranoid I guess, that he might be living with
another girl.
He didn't laugh in a friendly manner. Instead he had a wistful, sad
look on his face. "They belonged to Cris." he said, in a distant
manner.
"Chris?" I asked, "As in Christopher?" For a moment I was glad it
was just an old friend of his, not an old girl friend. Less to
compete with. Did I just think that?
"No," he replied, "As in Cristina."
Damn it, I thought, disappointed. An old flame's stuff lying around
the house. That's competition, for sure.
He continued: "She was the last person who came to live with me, but
that was a long time ago."
Hunny-Bear seemed genuinely guarded and upset. I didn't want to pry.
Well, yes I did. So I pried away: "What happened? If you don't mind
me asking."
He smiled mildly. "No, not at all. She... well, she had a bad case
of bussie-boppers too, actually. We had a lot of fun together... so
many lovely days! But..."
"But?" I prompted, as he trailed off.
He buried his head in his paws, then cried out: "But one day I sent
her out for mulberry muffins, and she wandered very far into the
forest and was found by other people! And they tempted her so much
with memories of her old City that she ran away from me in an
impulsive moment."
"Oh my," I replied, patting his fuzzy little shoulder, "That's
terrible!"
"No, no," he sniffled, "If she was happy it would have been fine.
But she was bussie-boppered! And by the time I worked up the courage
to travel very far away from here, and find her... oh, it was too
late, it was far, far too late! The bussie-boppers had gotten to her
completely, there wasn't a thing my medicine could do any more...
she didn't even recognize me..."
The room fell into silence. Finally, I spoke, quietly: "Hunny?"
He seemed glad I had broken the silence, and looked at me with a
little smile and a little happiness returning to his beady eyes:
"Yes, Bussie?"
"Am I ... I'm stuck as a girl?" I asked, fidgeting my hands a bit.
He looked sad, and turned away. "Yes, I'm afraid so. That's the way
the bussie-boppers always stabilize. The bussie-boppers are terrible
little things, you're never quite the same after an encounter with
them."
I glanced at my big, rounded breasts. No kidding. They looked
vibrant and healthy in the morning sunlight, since I had let the
quilt drop around my belly when I sat up to eat. I didn't care if
Hunny-Bear saw me naked, of course. In fact, I rather preferred it,
I thought with a giggle.
He looked up again. "Is something funny?"
I was stuck as a girl. I should be upset. I seemed to keep thinking
that a lot lately, that I should be upset. Always "should". But I
never actually was, so I decided to stop doing it, and just let
myself feel as OK and happy as I actually did.
I smiled naughtily at him: "Oh, no. I was just thinking that my
pancakes were kind of dry."
He seemed genuinely shocked. "Oh dear! Oh, pother! What an
inconsiderate host I am!" He stood up: "Let me go get you some
butter immediately."
"No," I said, stopping him, "Actually, they could definitely use
something, but butter isn't what I was thinking of..." I trailed
off, grinning mischievously, as I playfully grasped his flaccid
penis.
I've never had more delicious pancakes!
- XIX -
MY hands really weren't that tiny. I mean, in contrast to my big ol'
man-hands I had before the bussie-bopper incident, they were much
smaller. But they weren't really any tinier than the average adult
woman's. Same with my boobs, and my butt, and... well, and pretty
much everything else about me. I had been pretty toned and fit as a
guy, and that transferred to my girly body, but other than that, I'd
blend into a mall crowd - no sweat.
Those are the kind of observations I made as I primped my hair in
front of Hunny-Bear's big powder-room mirror. That's what one of
those two ground floor doors I had noticed led to. The other led to
his bedroom. And there was a third, which hadn't been visible from
the front door, which led to a big walk-in pantry.
I moved my hair behind my ears. Then I shook it back out so it hung
in front of them. I couldn't tell which style I liked better. "I
could use some hair clips or... one of those plastic hair band
things," I muttered, then gave up on 'styling' my hair without a
brush or clips or products.
I leaned my naked form closer to the mirror, the quilt still piled
up on my bed two floors up. I loved walking around naked in my
smooth female form; it felt so much more... I don't know... sensual
and, uhm, aerodynamic? Whatever. Anyway, I leaned closer to my
reflection and noticed that all my freckles had darkened up
considerably after the hours spent basking in the sunny Meadow
yesterday. How neat. I'd never had freckles before, and these worked
just like the real ones!
And then Hunny-Bear was behind my reflection. I turned and verified
that he was behind me in reality, too. "Ready to get all washed up?"
he asked in his adorable, raspy little voice.
If it means I get to wash your cock, I thought lasciviously. I
smirked inside my head at my unruly sexuality, but no longer
flinched at it or chastised myself. Aloud, though, I replied:
"Where? I thought this was your washroom."
He grinned. "No, this the powder-room, where all the grooming goes
on. The washtub is out back!"
I briefly hesitated at the thought of washing myself, naked, in the
open outdoors. Then I laughed, because we were so deep in the woods
that no one was around for kilometers. Miles, even. And honestly,
the thought of some surly band of hunters stumbling upon my skinny,
naked little butt washing up just sent a thrill through my spine I
can't describe. "Lead the way," I smiled, holding out - and down -
my hand for Hunny-Bear to take.
He lead me out of the powder-room, a few feet to his doorway, and
then into his bedroom. It was quaint and adorable, much like the
third-floor guest room, but with a larger and more luxurious
bedframe and a differently-patterned quilt. A big bookshelf occupied
part of one wall, along with a small writing desk; another wall was
taken up with a wooden sliding-door closet; and another featured a
chest-of-drawers, a big storage trunk like my guest room had, and a
large standing lamp. The last wall was prominently occupied with a
big glass slider which led out to a patio adorned with wooden
reclining chairs and ringed by a well-maintained flower garden.
I was lead through his bedroom - a tiny part of me thrilled at being
invited into it - and out onto the patio, where the cool stone sent
a chill through my feet and up my back. Then he lead me down-hill
through a meandering path of stepping-stones to a small lake, around
whose shore was a large white bathtub with a shower attached, a
wooden bench right next to it, and various trays of soaps and
shampoos and sponges and other wash-time accompaniments.
"Here we go," he said cheerily, and brought me up to the tub, then
began fiddling with some knobs on the shower-pole. I noticed with
dismay that the shower, being sized for Hunny-Bear, was a little low
for me. He seemed to anticipate that thought, and continued: "Don't
worry about the shower height, I've had enough people guests over my
years... just grab it here... yes, like that... now tug up gently.
Perfect!"
Perfect, indeed. The showerhead telescoped up to around 6 feet tall,
and I could easily fit my 5'7" (maybe 5'6", I didn't really check)
frame under it. "Just remember to put it back for me, I can't
reach," he reminded with a smile.
He turned one more valve and a clunky-looking series of metal pipe
pieces held together with all manner of makeshift nails, screws, and
plumbing tapes rattled to life, extending all the way down into the
lake. Then the ice-cold water sprayed onto me like horrible, frozen
daggers, and I screamed loudly and brightly. Hunny-Bear, being
cretinous, just laughed so hard he fell over onto his back,
clutching his stomach and gasping for breath, as I danced around,
shivering. "I suppose I should warn you that I haven't a water
heater about, so the shower can be a bit chilly." I frowned
threateningly.
Ten minutes later, teeth chattering wildly, nipples like iron
thimbles, I was cleaned up nicely and drying off with a towel
provided by Hunny-Bear. I wrapped it around myself pathetically,
trying to feel any form of warmth. Then I felt Hunny-Bear tap my
thigh, and I looked down at him: "Bussie, friend, could you adjust
the shower please?" I glared at him morosely, tugged the shower-head
back to its shorter height, and turned back around to continue
pouting in the sun.
Later, as we walked back uphill the stepping-stones toward the Oak-
House, Hunny-Bear chuckled a little more and then spoke up: "Are you
really that dreadfully angry with me about the water prank?"
My iron frown melted into a smile. "No," I replied, patting his
head. "Sorry if I got nasty about it."
He just laughed. "It's alright, I don't blame you. I can be just
rotten sometimes, but I do mean it all in good fun. Anyhow - there
is a reason I've made sure you were all fresh and cleaned up bright
and early today."
"Oh?" I asked.
"Well, you've expressed interest in seeing mugril, haven't you?" he
dangled.
"I have?" I replied, then tried not to sound mean: "Well, I guess
I've been curious ever since you mentioned it, but you were the one
who suggested me visiting."
He nodded, seemingly unfazed by my modest enthusiasm: "Oh yes, and
also that you try your hand out at milking mugril! I mean, heavens,
you enjoy her milk every morning, it's only fair you get to know
her."
I smiled. Hunny-Bear had such a quaint, country-folk way of seeing
things... like you should make friends with the cow you get milk
from, since "it's only fair". I ruffled his ears a bit playfully,
causing him to squirm with irritation and fluff them back into
position. "Alright," I said, "you're right. In fact, I can't wait to
see this 'mugril'. I've had goat's milk, cow's milk, soy milk, even
donkey's milk, and I think human's milk - you'll have to ask my mom
there - but I've never even heard of a mugril. So this should be an
interesting experience."
"Oh, I rest quite assured," he replied, elated, "that very few
people have ever heard of a mugril!"
- XX -
WE returned to the Oak-House, and I finished drying off and tidying
up in the powder-room. Hunny-Bear, helpful little thing that he was,
provided me with a finely-carved wooden comb and a smooth-bristled
wooden brush, which made working with my new, longer hair much
easier. Then I strolled out - well, approximated a stroll as best
you can when you're 5'7" and living under a 5 foot ceiling - naked
as nature and feeling not the slightest bit self-conscious about it.
I even loved the way my partially-stooped posture in the downstairs
rooms caused my boobs to hang down below me and sway sensuously,
reveling in the thought of what it must do to any boys watching.
Like Hunny-Bear.
Well, actually, Hunny-Bear was pretty gentlemanly about it. I
definitely noticed - or felt - his eyes on my tits quite often, but
I didn't care; it turned me on, more than anything else. For the
most part, though, he kept eye contact when we spoke and never made
much of a deal about my female form. At least, not during the work-
day, as it were.
I'm getting ahead of myself. So anyway, I stoop-strolled out of the
power-room, raring to go milk a mugril, but Hunny-Bear was already
waiting for me there in his little red T-shirt and trucker's hat,
along with the two big metal pails he had been carrying the first
time I saw him. He tut-tutted. "Where do you think you're going,
looking like that?"
I froze, and frowned, feeling suddenly self-conscious and embarassed
in a previously wonderfully free environment. "What's wrong?" I
asked, trying not to cry.
Hunny-Bear looked mortified, and then laughed. "Oh! Oh dear Bussie,
I do apologize. I don't find anything wrong about you at all, you
are an exquisite little specimen through and through. I merely meant
that if we're to go visit mugril, you musn't be naked like that.
Even I have to dress, you see?" And he gestured to his hat and
shirt, seemingly oblivious to his lack of trousers.
"Oh. Your mugril is a prude?" This was getting weird - a cow that
wanted its owners clothed - but I tried to keep the word "weird" in
perspective, all things considered.
Hunny-Bear laughed heartily at that, then a little sadness twinkled
in his eyes. "You could say so, but I wouldn't put it quite like
that. Let's just say it would not be appropriate for either of us,
and especially you, to show up buck-naked in front of such a
creature."
I stared, then clamped down any further questions I had. One thing I
was beginning to learn about this experience was when to just shut
up and accept the rules of this little world. So I shrugged: "Okie-
dokie. What do I wear, though? I think I left my clothes in the
Meadow."
"I gathered them up for you, my dear - no sense littering! - but
they wouldn't well fit you, anyway." I could only nod agreement.
"But surely you recall the upstairs storage-room?"
I nodded, smiling happily - then stopped, and my blood froze solid.
Oh god! That... that creepy little spider-thing! I had killed it,
hadn't I? It was a panic response, but... what if it was Hunny-
Bear's friend? Oh god, would I be put on trial before a tribunal of
woodland creatures? Horrible images of a large hippopotamus in a
powdered wig slamming his gavel down as a jury of mixed mammals,
birds, and reptiles chanted "Smash her with a shoebox! Smash her
with a shoebox!" flashed through my mind, and I shuddered.
"Is something wrong with the storage room?" he asked, bewildered by
my reaction.
"I... uhm..." I stammered.
"Did you run into Sam the Spider while you were up there?" he asked.
The cold feeling on my skin turned to dancing hot needles. "Uhm..."
I squeaked meekly.
"I know he can be rather gruff, but honestly, he's almost never in.
I let him rent out a web-space in my closet because he says the
moths around here are the most delicious in the whole Forest, but
usually he's out solving cases for months at a time. Honestly, he's
the best detective in the whole Forest." rambled Hunny-Bear
obliviously.
"Oh." I said, still feeling like I was going to pass out from
anxiety.
"Come on, come on, let's get you dressed! If Sam startles you that
much, I can evict him... for heaven's sake, you're much more
important to me, dear Bussie!" said Hunny-Bear, tugging on my arm.
His warmth and sincerity was so touching, I almost cried again, in a
different way. "Oh, OK, Hunny." I smiled, following after him,
rolling my eyes. I figured that whatever ended up happening with
that spider-thing's corpse, Hunny-Bear would be kind to me. And I
did sort of deserve to be punished, didn't I? That turned me on a
little. Why? An image of Hunny-Bear bending me over a stool and
smacking my padded backside with a ping-pong paddle flashed into my
mind, and I flushed a little. Wow, when did I become so submissive?
The word "submissive" made a happy heat flash out from my groin to
my brain, and my knees felt an intense desire to be in contact with
the ground.
Hunny-Bear turned around. "Are you alright, Bussie?"
He shouldn't have turned around. Not with that thing swinging
between his fuzzy, stubby little legs. My knees kissed the ground
and I kissed something else before he could protest, or react at
all.
- XXI -
ONE blowjob later, a beet-red and grinning Hunny-Bear was leading me
into the closet of the storage-room. I knew I should feel nervous
about the imminent discovery of Sam the Spider's mutilated corpse,
but honestly, I was floating on cloud-nine, my crotch pleasantly
soaked with my own arousal after giving such exciting head to my
companion there.
The door creaked open, and he tugged the light on. "Oh, it seems Sam
cleaned the mirror for us." he replied immediately, noticing the
lack of dust on the reflective rectangle. I said nothing, glancing
anxietally at the clothing I had piled over the sticky remains of
Sam's ichor.
"S-so, uhm," I stammered, my voice warbling uncontrollably, "uhm, w-
what's am I gonna wear, Bu... Hugunny-Bare?" As much as I tried to
keep my tongue under control, my nerves were betraying me.
He giggled. "Are you so scared of spiders, my dear Bussie? Rest
assured Sam would never hurt you, except possibly with second-hand
smoke." He kept flitting through the rows of hangers on either side
of us, making a little 'tch' sound every time, as if he wasn't
finding what he wanted. "Ah!" he exclaimed, and pulled out a blue,
long-sleeved blouse that would hang down to my knees. I frowned at
it, but he ignored me and kept looking on the other side.
Soon he finished, and seemed disappointed. "I know it's in here."
Then he looked to the pile of clothes on the floor. "Oh! It must be
mixed in down there." My heart sank.
"Can't I just wear something else?" I asked nervously.
"No," he replied, barely listening.
"Please? I... I really want to get going before the whole morning is
up." I said, trying not to make myself too obvious. If he went deep
enough in that pile, he'd find the pile of spider-goo and moustache
hairs that would give my crime away -
He laughed. "We've got plenty of time. Oh, but it's good to see you
so enthusiastic, Bussie! You must feel so much better. Rotten
bussie-boppers..." he muttered, trailing off and continuing to pluck
one item at a time out of the pile of clothes, examine it, and then
toss it aside.
Another item. A pale pink halter-top. He was about halfway through
the pile.
Another item. A crisp white blouse.
Another item. A black, satiny bra.
Another item. A simple, pale green T-shirt.
Another item. A tight-fitting denim jacket. He was about 3/4 through
the pile now.
Another item. A black-and-red lace-up corset. A few more scraps of
clothing and he'd hit paydirt. My heart leapt into my throat.
Another item. A rich brown spaghetti-strap with a low-cut chest and
back. Any moment now, he'd find the remains of Sam the Spider. I
closed my eyes.
And he exclaimed happily. I cracked one eye open - exactly one piece
of fabric remained draped over the spot where I had smashed Sam the
Spider to bits. One thin garment - a crisp, fashionable white-and-
yellow sundress - was all that stood between the floor and Hunny-
Bear's eyes.
But he didn't bother with it, because he already had what he wanted:
a big, pale-blue skirt that looked like it would cover me from hip
to toe. As with the blouse, I frowned involuntarily. It was ugly.
That was outweighed, though, by my happiness that he hadn't found
the remains, and I casually piled the clothes back up over the site
of the murderous deed while he busied himself looking for something
else. A deep breath of relief was released from me, and my heart
started to calm down.
Until I saw him get out a step-stool and begin rummaging around on
the shelf full of shoeboxes. The shoeboxes, one of which had the
entire mangled corpse of Sam the Spider deposited in it. Ice floes
drifted through my blood all over again.
"Do I really need shoes?" I barked out, "I love the feel of the cool
forest floor between my toes! It's very fine!"
Hunny-Bear gave me an odd look, then smiled and shook his head. "You
do need to get out and about, I'm afraid, my friend. Too much time
all cooped-up in bed has made you quite stir-crazy!" Then he kept
rummaging through the boxes.
One box opened - no, not what he wanted.
Another box - no, not what he wanted.
Another, and another, and another - no, no, no.
And then he was three boxes away from ... from the one I had stuffed
Sam's body into.
The first box opened. A pair of 3-inch pumps in a deep turquoise,
with a rich brown layered heel. Not what he wanted.
The second box opened. My heart hammered. A pair of black flats,
with a gradient of gray lines extending back from the toes to give
them a vertigo-inducing look. Very cool. Not what he wanted. No!
"Can we please go?" I whined frantically, tugging on him. He shooed
me away with a chuckle, as if he assumed I was being silly on
purpose.
The last, fateful box was picked up. And opened. He stared for a few
moments, then held it up for me to see. Oh, god. He wanted me to
look at what I had done. He wanted me to see -
To see -
To see a pair of ankle-high black clogs with a golden-clasped black
strap over the middle, and a thick wooden base and heel.
And no corpse. Anywhere. Not a trace to be seen.
"Go ahead, take them out so I can put all this back," he said,
smiling.
"Uhm." I said. I didn't want to touch them! They had dead spider
parts all over them! At least... I remembered them having dead
spider parts...
He laughed. "Go on, they won't bite!"
I couldn't stall any more, so I gingerly picked up each shoe,
clasping them between thumb and forefinger, and set them on the
ground as fast as possible. He laughed again: "I take it you don't
like the outfit I'm preparing."
I could answer this honestly: "No, not really."
He grinned. "It's OK, I don't blame you. But you'll get it when
we're done." Then he went back to rummaging: "Now where is that
bonnet..."
- XXII -
TWENTY minutes later I was stepping through the forest, dressed as a
milkmaid. Blue dress, white apron, long-sleeved darker-blue overcoat
with white cuffs, and a crisp white bonnet tied around my chin to
complete the look. I held a metal pail in one hand, as my black
clogs chuffed through the dirt and leaf litter, and Hunny-Bear held
the other pail.
He seemed terribly amused. "I do hope you won't hold this against
me," he began, "It just seemed like an appropriate way to be
introduced to mugril."
His use of the word "mugril" kept confusing me. "Is it one mugril,
or several?" I asked, my complaints about the outfit having worn
themselves out while we got ready to leave the Oak-House.
"Mugril." he corrected me.
I stared at him. "That's what I said, mugril."
"You keep saying 'mugril', it's mugril." he replied.
I stared blankly. The two versions sounded exactly the same to me.
"Whatever." I finally replied, shifting my attention to my shoes.
Despite having no visible traces of spider-guts anywhere on them, I
thoroughly remembered tossing Sam the Spider's mangled body in with
this pair. Certain objects, even if they appear spotless on a visual
inspection, just seem filthy at the molecular level. Like a
pillowcase that's had cat poop on it, no matter how times you wash
it. So I didn't feel comfortable walking in them.
To be honest, I probably wouldn't have felt comfortable walking in
them even if they seemed totally clean to me. It had been so long
since I'd worn any footwear that it felt downright uncomfortable to
cover up my feet. In fact, all my clothing felt uncomfortable. I had
a very strong desire to be naked. Maybe it was the wilderness
setting. Maybe it was Hunny-Bear. Maybe it was strange, upside-down
brain chemistry. I dunno.
"I just really want these clothes off," I commented as we approached
the Crest.
Hunny-Bear giggled. "I know, I know. Just please, humour me. You'll
understand why we should be clothed, really, you will."
"Fine," I said, "But do I have to be clothed like this?"
He grinned. "It makes you look frumpy and proper."
I grimaced. "And that's a good thing?"
He nodded. "Usually not. But this time, yes, it is."
Soon we were standing atop the Crest, the big hill near the Oak-
House where I had first encountered Hunny-Bear. I'd never actually
been at its apex before; the pine trees grew thick all over it, but
between their trunks you could look below and see over many of the
trees at the ground level. In the distance, poking through a few of
the shorter tree-tips, I thought I spied the unnaturally bright
green of the Meadow's grass.
Hunny-Bear directed my attention down the hill, opposite the way we
had arrived, to a quaint little home that looked to be about the
size of a small barn. It had a white picket-fence and a small flower
garden full of bright yellow blossoms around its perimeter.
Bluebirds and bees flitted among the leaves. "That's your barn?" I
asked.
"Sort of," he replied. "I do call it the Barn, but it's more of a
home."
I furrowed my eyebrows, then shrugged and descended down the Crest
with him, my milk pail swinging and ka-tanking noisily. As we got
closer, it became apparent that the front door had no handle. It
apparently swung open and closed like a barn gate. "Not much
privacy, is there?" I asked.
Hunny-Bear shrugged. "She's not too concerned about it, I expect."
"That's true, huh? She is an animal, after all." I replied. Then I
looked at Hunny-Bear. "Well, not like you are." I added.
He smiled. "Inside the wilderness, we're all animals. Some are a
little sharper than others." he said wryly, tapping his head.
We stopped a few feet from the barn-house-thing-place's front door-
gate-object. "Should I wait for you here?" I asked.
He shook his head. "No, no, we don't just barge in. That would be
rude, even to mugril."
I rolled my eyes. Right. We musn't upset the cattle by violating
their privacy, even though we'd shortly be groping their tits for
milk. That, of course, gave me an idea, and I had to firmly keep my
hands at my side to resist rubbing a nipple. Then I startled, as I
heard Hunny-Bear call out:
"Moo!" He was mooing? "Moo-ooooo!" No, it didn't sound like an
imitation of a cow noise, it just sounded like the word "moo" being
called out. He waited a few moments. I heard a rustling noise from
inside the house, and the tinkling of a bell. And a snort. Then
Hunny-Bear repeated: "Moo, come out friend Moo! Milk time, Moo!" The
rustling and shuffling noises continued, then the bell sounded
rapidly, as if shaking. And then I heard a bump against the front
door-gate, and it swung open with a very soft creak.
And out shambled...
A girl. A girl on her hands and... feet, walking with her butt
thrust up into the air. Not your average girl, though.
Her hair was jet-black, and would have hung to her waist if she was
standing, but was tied into two thick braids which hung on either
side of her head and instead dangled below her, brushing against the
ground as she moved forward. Her entire body was chalk-white, save
for black splotches here and there, just like a cow-pattern. It
didn't seem to be fur; her skin seemed to be genuinely milk-white
with black patterning.
Her hips were very, very wide, and round, and her ass was enormous.
It didn't look bovine, it just looked like a big, big girly ass; but
it didn't wobble, it was quite firm. A ropy tail extended from where
her tailbone should have stopped, and was crowned with a silky,
shiny puff of black hair that had the shape of a cartoon paintbrush-
tip. It swung back and forth of its own accord.
Her legs and arms, in addition to her hands and feet, seemed
perfectly human in shape, musculature, and proportion. Actually, her
thighs were perhaps a bit thicker than you'd expect. Other than that
she was very "normal" in appearance, which was odd considering she
walked on her hands and feet. You'd think that her palms and soles
would look tougher than they did, but they seemed quite soft and
fleshy. I noticed her fingernails and toenails looked manicure-
healthy and shiny, and had little black and white cow patterns
painted - or naturally occurring - on them.
Her face, too, was human. It looked like a caricature of a beautiful
woman, the kind you'd see in cartoonish pin-up art, with round high
cheekbones, a petit upturned nose, big plump lips, thin and well-
plucked eyebrows, and big, long, dark lashes. Her eyes were very big
and wide, though heavy-lidded, and bright blue, a stark contrast to
her otherwise monochrome body. The only inhuman part of her head was
a pair of small, equally stark-white horns which poked through her
hair near the front. A little golden bell, attached to a black
collar, hung around her neck, tinkling lightly as she moved.
There was, as you might expect, one more feature to discuss. That
would be her boobs. Maybe "udders" would be more appropriate, even
though they had the shape and appearance of human breasts. They
were... enormous. Unbelievable, really. The way she stood on her
hands and feet, legs and arms fully extended, propped her torso,
depending on the part of the angle you checked, about 3 to 4 feet
off the ground. Her tits brushed it while she walked.
Yeah. They were... wow. Very firm, with a youthful bounce to them
instead of a mature sway, and very round. They elongated pendulously
under gravity, since she was bent over, but they still had a smooth,
luxurious, healthy curve to them. They had the same chalk-white skin
with black patterning as the rest of her body, save for the big,
pale pink nipples and areola which capped them off. And I mean big.
Each one was about 10 centimeters long and thick as a carrot, but
shaped like a human female nipple; that is, softly cylindrical and
flattened at the tip.
She had four of them, two over her pectoral muscles where you'd
expect a girl's boobs, and two more dangling in front of her thighs
where you'd expect a cow's udder. They were all the same enormous
size, and I wasn't quite sure how she moved so quickly and
effortlessly, between being on her hands-and-feet and having two-
pair bloated mammaries wobbling beneath her and dragging across the
ground. She certainly jiggled ... a lot ... as she moved, and her
big hips and butt swayed hypnotically, but she just kept her pert
nose upturned and her big eyes forward and barely seemed to notice.
She blinked a few times, saw Hunny-Bear, and her face lit up. She
strolled straight to him, the same smug, confident expression on her
face, and he ruffled her hair as she reached him. "Hello, hello
mugril! Ah, yes, that's a good mugril, yes it is."
Mugril. Mugril? Mu-gril... mu-girl... MOO-GIRL! It finally clicked
in my head, and I felt immensely stupid. Hunny-Bear pronounced it so
fast, and I had just assumed it was some unfamiliar species of
milkable mammal. "Oh!" I exclaimed, "Moo-Girl! Duh! I get it now!"
Hunny-Bear smiled, apparently realizing why I had been
mispronouncing it also.
And then... Moo-Girl turned her head toward me, as if noticing me
for the first time. Her eyebrows turned angry and she snorted.
- XXIII -
"EASY, friend Moo! Easy!" reassured Hunny-Bear, stroking along her
neck and down her back. She closed her eyes and lowed lightly,
smiling. Hunny-Bear turned to me: "Now you see why I told you to
come clothed. Moo-Girl is... she's very possessive of me, and if we
came looking like we were too..." he coughed, "friendly, she might
have gotten very upset."
I backed up a little. Moo-Girl was very feminine, but also very
Amazonian in size. She'd probably be almost 7 feet tall if she ever
stood up. I didn't want her charging into me and breaking my
internal organs open like ripe tomatoes. "Can't you just explain the
situation to her?" I asked warily.
"Well, no, not really," replied Hunny-Bear. I glanced over and my
mouth dropped open in shock at the sight of Moo-Girl hungrily
wrapping her pale white lips around my Hunny-Bear's cock! He saw my
expression and quickly made a 'calm down' motion. "She's not
entirely sentient, the way you and I are. She's a little more primal
than that." He gestured at his head, "The bussie-boppers did a real
number on her head, I'm afraid."
"The bussie-boppers?" I exclaimed, shuddering involuntarily. "That
could happen to me?"
"No," he assured me, "a very complicated set of circumstances befell
poor Moo here. You're getting regular, proper treatment. But she...
she got away from me a bit..." He was choking up. Realization dawned
on me.
"Is that Cri - " I began, horrified, but he quickly held up a stubby
paw:
"Don't say it." I stopped. "Don't say her... old name around her. It
upsets her. Somewhere deep inside I think a tiny part of her
remembers who - what - she used to be, and she can get wild if you
wake it up. Best to just let her live in as much peace as we can."
"By using her for milk?" I asked, bewildered.
"It's doing her a favor," he replied, a bit chagrined, "See how
swollen they are?" He gestured at her giant breasts, "That's because
she hasn't been milked since last night. I milk her twice a day.
Once in the morning, once before bed. Otherwise, she gets so swollen
she starts crying out in pain and you can hear her from the House.
The milk never stops coming for her, ever, and I'm afraid to think
what might happen if I ever fell behind on my milking duties."
"And the milk is safe?" I asked warily.
"I've not noticed any side-effects. Bussie-boppers aren't
transmitted through bodily fluids." he stated matter-of-factly.
"Oh. OK, then." I replied, trying to take it all in. I noticed that
Moo-Girl had turned her perpetually-lifted backside to Hunny-Bear,
and I saw for the first time her enormous, bright pink, swollen,
oozing vulva. It looked human, but Super Sized, even for her
proportions. The lips pulsed with her heartbeat and the skin around
her labia and down her thighs was coated in multiple layers of dried
vaginal fluids. Silky, short, jet-black pubic hair fuzzed up the
area. She was lowing - basically moaning - insistently, in a way
that conveyed sexual need very clearly, and rubbing her genitals up
and down Hunny-Bear's erection, thrusting her ass against him,
begging bodily to be fucked. "And this?" I asked, gesturing to her
behavior.
"This," he replied, thrusting into her almost absent-mindedly as he
turned to speak to me, "Is another effect of bussie-boppers allowed
to rage out of control. She's constantly horny, and no amount of sex
satisfies her. You should see the dildos and other toys I've got
stockpiled in there," he gestured to the Barn, "just to keep her
from breaking loose and wandering the forest looking for a partner.
I go through this every time I milk her because it seems to be
calming to her to receive my medicine, or maybe just contact another
creature. It's also why she's so scarily possessive, I think... she
doesn't want anyone taking her sex-friend away..." He looked down
sadly at Moo-Girl.
Moo-Girl. Who used to be Cristina, Hunny-Bear's friend, also
infected with bussie-boppers. Who had escaped back to civilization
and been off Hunny-Bear's medicine long enough for the bussie-
boppers to take over her body. To turn her into... into that, a
crazily-proportioned, perpetually-lactating, sex-crazed cow-slut who
spent the whole day walking around with her cunt thrust into the
air, waiting for anyone willing, and helpless without someone to
relieve her tits of their milk all the time.
And this could have been me. This could still be me, I thought, if
it weren't for Hunny-Bear and his stubborn administration of my
medicine.
I rushed forward and hugged Hunny-Bear tightly, blinking back tears
of whole-hearted gratitude and love for the strange, compassionate
little creature. Moo-Girl was too busy humping back and forth,
lowing at the top of her lungs, little bell tinkling crazily, to
notice or care; Hunny-Bear smiled at me affectionately.
Twenty minutes later, Moo-Girl was in much better spirits after
being thoroughly fucked, and lay lazily on her side, tail swatting
at the occasional bug, quietly fingering herself while Hunny-Bear
milked her first two breasts into his big metal pail.
Then it was my turn, and at first I was terrified she'd kick me or
something. But he guided my hand to one of her lower pair of boobs:
"Milking is an excellent way to break the ice," he insisted. So I
gently and cautiously placed my hand on the great big tit in front
of me; Moo-Girl opened one eye, glanced at me, and let out a short,
happy little 'moo', then closed her eye again and went back to
basking in the sun with her masturbation.
I took the gargantuan boob between both hands and began squeezing
down gently along its length in several smooth, slow passes; when
Hunny-Bear told me to, I switched to tugging rythmically on the fat
nipple at the end. Soon Moo-Girl let out a slow, happy sigh, and a
squirt of milk splashed into the bucket. Then another, and another,
and then a fairly steady stream began flowing out as one hand
squeezed down the boob and the other tugged the nipple. "Yes! Very
good! You're a natural, by George!" exclaimed Hunny-Bear happily.
And within another 20 minutes, my milk-bucket was also filled to the
inside rim, and Moo-Girl's two lower boobs were emptied. As if aware
of this, she grunted, then swung herself up onto to her hands and
feet with surprising grace. She grinned naughtily and kissed me full
on the lips, to my surprise, and then gave Hunny-Bear an
affectionate lick up and down the length of his penis. Then she
turned and trotted back into her Barn house. As she moved away, I
could see her boobs no longer brushed the ground, but merely hung
down to her wrists or kneecaps, respectively.
Hunny-Bear followed her into the Barn, and returned a few minutes
later after a gentle hum had started up. "I put her favorite
vibrator in her," he explained casually, "it'll keep her distracted,
and when it falls out sooner or later, she'll be in a good enough
mood to find something else to keep her occupied." I nodded blankly.
As we walked away, I contemplated asking him further about how he'd
set up this relationship with Cristina, who it sounded like he had
been very close to before she was taken away and then degenerated.
But I decided to stop opening Hunny-Bear's old wounds, and let it
lie.
- XXIV -
THE rest of the day continued in a similar vein, as Hunny-Bear had a
remarkable number of chores that needed doing, and I was eager to
help him out in exchange for his kindess and hospitality.
Thankfully, he gave me permission to immediately strip out of the
milkmaid outfit as soon as got home and put the milk-pails in the
refrigerator, and I was able to spend the remainder of the day
strolling around happily naked.
By the late afternoon, we were finally done with the day's business,
including Moo-Girl's evening milking, and I felt dirty and sweaty -
but also good and energetic. We arrived at the Oak-House with
several bundles of grocery from Bargain Beaver's General Dam, and
after busying myself putting everything away in the pantry and
fridge, I came out to find Hunny-Bear naked (that is, his red T-
shirt was gone), which immediately sent a thrill through me. We had
been so busy with me learning the ropes of the household all day
long that I hadn't gotten any cock since early morning!
But instead of erect, his penis was flaccid. He had two towels under
his arm, and a bundle of wash supplies: "I expect you'd like to
clean up again, before settling in for the evening?"
"Certainly!" I replied, bracing myself for the cold shower, but also
bracing myself more against the smell of my sweaty armpits. Well, it
wasn't that bad... it had a nice, girly musk to it... but still, I
smelled like a hard day's work instead of a blooming flower. Or
whatever.
So back we went, through Hunny-Bear's room (I got a thrill seeing
his bed and imagining myself sprawled over it...), out the slider,
past the patio, down the slope, to the tub. I started to telescope
the shower up, but he stopped me: "I suppose you'd like something
warmer than that brisk shower?" he asked.
I nodded. The afternoon had been warm due to the activity and sunny
spots along the way, but the dusk air was chilly. He opened the
bundle he had been carrying, and it wasn't wash supplies: it was
firewood we had chopped together earlier in the day. Then he
motioned under the tub, where I saw a little metal pit ... the tub
could be heated! A warm bath! I shivered happily at the thought.
So we used the shower to fill the big white tub with chilly lake-
water, and then waited while the fire below warmed the water to
boiling. Hunny-Bear then placed a metal lid firmly over the little
fire-pit, smothering out the flames, and we both gingerly lowered
our naked bodies into the sauna-like water.
"Oooh," I hissed, "this feels very nice."
"Doesn't it?" he said, smiling wide. "I should explain my prank this
morning was partially to make this experience that much more
satisfying the first time."
I grinned at him. Every time I got mad or thought I hated Hunny-Bear
for doing something irritating, I'd realize later that he had done
it with a bigger, wiser plan in mind. I felt so humbled in his
brilliant little presence. I leaned over and pecked him on the nose.
He shocked me by splashing water into my face in response, soaking
my hair. "How dare you?" I shrieked playfully, and splashed him
back.
Soon the tub was half-empty after a vigorous water-battle, but half-
empty was still quite deep enough for washing in the giant white
basin, and we set about soaping ourselves up. Then we switched to
soaping each other up. And then... well, then Hunny-Bear had to stop
me and remind me that I probably didn't want to swallow a mouthful
of soap suds, as I was leaning toward his erect cock. I had sort of
caused that, since I gave it ... a lot... of extra attention while I
lathered his body.
So I smiled, flicked on the shower valves, and watched him jump as
the cold water pelted him. Fair's fair, right? But I turned the
shower off soon enough, once all the soap was off his big delicious
cock.
If you were watching from a distance, you would've seen my lithe
silhouette bending down towards a gloriously large, erect penis,
backlit by a beautiful red-and-orange sunset over the sparkling
twilight lake water.
- XXV -
WE wandered back up the slope toward the house, dreamy and clean,
playfully shoving each other as we wrapped our towels tighter around
our forms to keep out the chill night air. The warm, familiar glow
of the Oak-House's yellow lighting beckoned from above, and I was
glad to slip through the slider and into Hunny-Bear's bedroom again.
His bed looked so much bigger than the guest bed, so cozy and
inviting.
"Sorry about the ceiling," he said, noticing my stooping posture.
"I've been meaning to get it heightened for ages, ever since I
started getting so many people guests, but somehow it always escapes
me by the end of the day."
"Aw, it's OK," I replied, kissing the top of his head and ruffling
his ears, causing him to paw at them irritably. "I get by
reasonably, as long as I'm sitting."
And soon I was sitting at the table, in the one human-sized chair,
while Hunny-Bear bustled around preparing dinner. He insisted I let
him do all the work, after all the effort I'd put into helping him
during the day. Across the room, I watched a fuzzy news report on
his little TV. I could barely make out the words, but there was a
picture of a Forest, which I liked.
Before I knew it, he announced "Dinner is served!" and placed a
silver serving platter, with matching silver cover, on the table.
"Smells delicious," I replied.
Then he lifted the cover, and I screamed. A little dead pig was
arranged on a bed of kale, with a miniature apple wedged in its
mouth. It was pale pink, with a banded, darker-pink torso, and
reminded me an awful lot of Hoglet from that Vinnie the Fooh series.
"Is something the matter?" asked Hunny-Bear innocently.
"You murdered your friend!" I cried.
He looked down at the platter. "Oh. Pain-Pig?" Then he laughed. "Oh,
I see. No, no," he said casually, "Pain-Pig is a masowchist. They
live to be killed and eaten."
"What?" I shrieked. "How does an animal live to die?"
He looked at me blankly. "Haven't you ever seen those commercials
where some animal or food is trying desperately to get humans to eat
it?"
I nodded uncertainly.
"That's based on reality. Certain species can only reproduce by
being killed, and many of them need the specific spiritual
conditions that occur inside the human stomach to catalyze their
transmigrations." he replied, as if discussing how forks work.
"Oh." I said, blankly.
Then I screamed, much louder, as the dead cartoon-pig-thing on the
platter before me took the apple out of its mouth, turned, and
looked at me: "No, really, he's right, honey. In fact, I'm getting a
little turned on just imagining you stabbing that knife into my big
juicy butt. Mmmm." It closed its eyes and smiled for a moment, then
turned back to me: "No, really, honestly, please, eat me. Oh, wait,
I'm probably not helping. Just ignore me. I'm dead, OK?" And with
that it flopped over dramatically, tongue lolling out.
I was about to pass out. And then Hunny-Bear smiled approvingly and
gestured to the pig in a "see?" manner... and then stabbed his fork
right into the poor thing's thigh, picked up his knife, and carved a
big chunk out!
"Oh... oh yeah... god I love it when you're rough with me, baby..."
shouted the little pig-thing without a trace of pain in its voice,
its well-baked features looking gleeful.
Hunny-Bear forced a fork-full toward my face. "Try it," he insisted,
"You will like it!" I battened my lips shut and shook my head "no"
furiously, standing to leave the table and accidentally slamming my
head against the low ceiling.
"Ow!" I shouted.
Hunny-Bear took the brief moment my mouth was open to pop the meat
in, screaming "Nya ha ha!" I gagged, and tried to spit it out...
but... it tasted too good. It was well-cooked, flavorful, juicy, not
a trace of gristle or fat... excellent! Seeing my look of approval,
he added: "It's kosher, too!"
"How the hell do you figure that?" I asked, looking at the little
pig-thing.
"Do I look like any pig you've ever met?" it asked me, propping
itself up on its elbow on the platter.
"Erm," I replied.
"You want me to chew my cud? Huh? Watch this!" And it made several
undulating motions with its throat, then began chewing something
happily. "Mmmm, that's some good cud. OK, see, I'm a kosher friggin'
pig, now eat me!"
"I really don't care if you're kosher or not!" I replied, completely
bewildered and a little grossed out.
The little pig-thing looked shocked. "Then why are you wasting my
time, you dumb broad?" And with that it swallowed, crossed its
stubby little arms, and laid back down on the platter, pouting.
Hunny-Bear leaned forward between me and Pain-Pig. "Perhaps this
dinner is getting a little out of hand - " he began.
But, something funny got into me then. "No," I replied, "if this
pig... thing... wants us to eat it, then who am I to question it? I
mean heck, I wasn't a girl last week - "
"Too much information!" shouted the little pig-thing.
I glared at it. "Anyway, the point is, this place you live in is
very different from my everyday life before I came here. So I'm
willing to keep trying new things, since so far, they haven't been
all that bad!" Minus the bussie-boppers, I thought. But then
again... I wouldn't be Hunny-Bear's girl without them, and... and
that was pretty great, wasn't it?
And soon we were chowing into a much-pleased Pain-Pig, enjoying some
freshly-steamed green beans and carrots, and a delicious cornbread.
It was a lovely dinner.
After we finished, I leaned back in my chair, feeling full and
content, while Hunny-Bear pushed himself away from the table. I
opened one eye, and he noticed: "Dessert, of course!" he replied.
"Ooh, but I'm soooo full!" I whined playfully, rubbing my stomach.
"Too full for a mint-chocolate cheesecake?" he asked temptingly.
"Not a chance in hell," I replied firmly. He smiled enthusiastically
and bustled off toward the fridge.
While I waited for Hunny-Bear to return, I was struck by a strange
rumbling in my stomach. I opened my eyes. Was I getting indigestion?
I felt acutely embarassed. I didn't want to turn off Hunny-Bear, or,
god, accidentally fart or something in an intimate moment...
But then I saw the little scraps of Pain-Pig left on the platter (he
apparently had no skeleton or internal organs, just thick juicy
meat) vaporize into thin air. And shortly thereafter, there was a
'poof' sensation in my stomach, and a cold feeling like something
rising through my abdomen. But I didn't see anything when I looked
down.
"Thanks, Bear! See you around!" came a familiar voice from near the
door. I turned to see Pain-Pig - two of it! They saw my expression,
and said in unison: "Your boyfriend wasn't lying when he told you
this is how we reproduce, toots. See you around!" And with that they
strolled out the front door, leaving Hunny-Bear waving good-bye with
his stubby little arm, a warm smile on his face. As usual, Hunny-
Bear was right. And this time, I had trusted him properly! I felt
good.
Then a plate containing a big, thick slab of mint-chocolate
cheesecake was laid before me, and I felt way beyond good. We
devoured our dessert, making light chatter, flirty comments, and
playfully touching each other every so often. Then we did the
dishes, continuing the playful flirting. Then we reclined on the
couch in each other's arms, watching some staticky Cartoon Network
feed, stroking each other lovingly and, yes, continuing the playful
flirting. And then it was quite late, and we were both clearly ready
for sleep. I stooped toward the stairwell, and Hunny-Bear followed
me. I paused. "So," I began, "I guess this is goodnight, then."
He nodded. "I suppose so. Thank you for all your help."
"Oh," I replied, "Of course. It was a lovely day. I was glad to
assist a great guy like you. I mean, you know, the way you... took
care of me all this time, and have opened your doors for me, and,
you know." I stumbled.
He blushed a bit. "Think nothing of it. Just helping a pretty
stranger in need, of course."
Pretty? He called me pretty. I was pretty, Hunny-Bear said so. I'd
never been called "pretty" before, not that I could think of. It
made me feel good. It made my heart bubble. "Yeah, well, it's nice
to be helped when you're in need by a handsome stranger!" I blurted
out.
We stared at each other. I looked up the stairwell. "I guess, you
know, ... 'cause I'm sleepy..." I trailed off.
"Oh, heavens, yes, me too..." he trailed off.
We stared some more. I wanted him to do it. I wanted him to say it.
I didn't want to do it. I didn't want to be the forward one. I
didn't want to risk falling flat on my emotional face. I wanted him
to do it, to be the big strong m -
"Of course," he drawled, twisting a foot against the hardwood floor,
"if you'd perhaps feel more comfortable," he coughed nervously, "you
know, if you'd... I mean stairs can be an exhausting climb when
you're tired, and... you know... it can get lonely all the way up on
the top floor, I'm sure..."
"You want me to sleep with you?" I blurted, then shot a hand to my
mouth, embarassed.
He perked up happily. "You'd like to?"
I melted, draping my arms around him: "Oh, I'd love to."
Before that weird experience, I'd never slept with a man before. I'd
never given a blowjob, either, or found myself obsessively attracted
to penises and their wonderful behavior, flaccid or firm. But I sure
enjoyed it that night, cuddled up against Hunny-Bear and his big
cock, feeling safe and secure under the covers with his arm around
my torso, pulling me tight into him, feeling my sensitive little
boobs squash up against his firm, fuzzy chest. Oh, we both slept
wonderfully.
After the wild, animalistic sex, of course.
- XXVI -
THE next day we, as he had suggested the previous day, took
breakfast together. This is pretty easy to do when you sleep wrapped
up in each other's arms, since the timing works out. Waffles with
whipped cream and fresh strawberries, sizzling bacon (I tried not to
think about what its source might be), and fluffy scrambled eggs.
Plus the requisite tall glass of Moo-Girl's milk; if we didn't drink
it every day, the Oak-House would quickly run out of shelf space in
the little refrigerator.
Then I washed the dishes (since Hunny-Bear made breakfast), we both
took crisp, cold showers down by the lake (it wasn't as bad the
second time), and I dressed - in clothes of my choice - so we could
go milk Moo-Girl. The closet still creeped me out, as I wondered
paranoiacally where Sam the Spider's body had gotten off to, and I
casually dropped the suggestion to Hunny-Bear that we move the
clothing into the guest-room's wardrobe.
Anyway, off we strolled, me in a comfy pair of size 6 light blue
denim jeans and a simple, tight-fitting, soft-pink T-shirt. I wasn't
wearing shoes - which seemed to fly with Hunny-Bear, if he even
noticed - but I did find, among the clutter in the storage room, a
box full of nail polishes, and was now strolling around with bright
red toenails. Hey, it sounded fun at the time, so I went with my
impulse. I forwent a bra, because honestly, my boobs weren't big
enough to need it and I had come to like their gentle bouncing as I
moved about during the day.
Things played out basically the same at the Barn, with Hunny-Bear
giving Moo-Girl a thorough humping to calm her down and then a quick
and efficient milking session. Hunny-Bear suction-cupped a
particularly enormous dildo against one of the inside walls of the
Barn, and we left to the sound of Moo-Girl enthusiastically
thrusting herself back and forth upon it. We were strolling back up
the Crest, each of us holding our metal pail full of milk -
When something different happened. A very familiar, steadily
repetitive sound drifted over my ears. Hunny-Bear heard it too,
stopping. I glanced skyward, seeing the crisp, cloudless blue above
through a particularly large gap in the tree growth directly above
us. The familiar sound was a 'whup-whup-whup-whup' ... helicopter
blades.
Far above, a chopper - I couldn't tell quite who it belonged to, it
was too tiny, but some instinct told me Search and Rescue - was
coming into view. In a few minutes, it would pass out of sight
again. This was my chance. This was my narrow window to get out of
here. I hadn't thought about escaping in days, but now the
opportunity had fallen into my lap through an exquisite burst of
fortune putting me in the right place at the right time.
If I could just catch their attention... but how? The bucket. I
glanced down at the milk bucket in my hand. Hunny-Bear kept them
very clean. Scoured them regularly to make sure they didn't trap
dirt. They shined. All I had to do was dump the milk out and begin
swinging it around my head - all it would take is the sun glinting
off it a few times, and they'd come investigate, no matter who they
were. Now was my chance. The seconds were ticking away. It was
almost directly above now.
I turned to Hunny-Bear, to apologize for dumping his milk out, and
then turned the bucket -
Slightly. But I didn't pour it out. Because turning around allowed
my eyes to lock onto the erection he had sprung up. The bucket
dropped from my hand, but remained upright, hitting the pine litter
a couple centimeters below with a harmless 'paff'. I tore my eyes
away and glanced at the helicopter above us. I could escape. I could
go home...
I looked back at his cock. Shifting my gaze that way didn't require
nearly as much willpower. I knew I should be getting the chopper's
attention. I knew. But I... I couldn't. I wanted Hunny-Bear's cock,
and the stuff inside. No, I needed it. I didn't know what I'd do
without it. I... I think I realized I was addicted to it. My skin
itched psychosomatically just at the thought of never getting to
suck him off again.
Eyes never leaving his cockhead, I felt myself drop to my knees and
crawl across the dirt to look up at him. Overhead, the sound of
helicopter blades intensified, and then began fading, and then was
gone into the distance. I never noticed. I didn't care. I had Hunny-
Bear's cock crammed into my mouth, and I was happy. I could feel him
ejaculating down my throat, and I was content. No, I was...
wonderful. I had what I needed. I made my choice.
No, it wasn't a choice. It was the only option. I knew what I
needed. I had it here. There was no point in leaving. I was his
woman, his sexual servant, and he was my caretaker and guardian. I
loved it. This would be my life.
- XXVII -
TIME passed in such a way that I lost count. We fell into this
routine, he and I, passing each day the same way: getting up, eating
breakfast, washing, doing the chores, washing up again, eating
dinner, cuddling or playing or whatever till bedtime, and then
putting ourselves to sleep with sexuality. Oh my, how often during
the day I would stop us to suck him down. How I reveled in the
soothing feeling his cum gave me the second it hit my tongue, the
way it slid down my throat thickly and warmly.
Of course, some days we'd spend more time playing than working,
running about outside or playing board games or even the old 8-bit
Nintendo system he had somehow obtained, which I found among the
seemingly limitless collection of the storage room.
It didn't matter, we had no schedule to run on. I was wild, and
free, and I loved it. If we spent a day playing and relaxing,
sleeping in and neglecting chores, we made up for it the next day.
No one was around to tell us when or how to act, no one dictated our
lives through the threat of a paycheck or the nagging of a visit. It
was utter, primal freedom blended with all the comforts that made
being at home feel safe and soothing. It was glorious.
I wore clothes some days, when I felt like it, because I enjoyed
picking through the feminine wardrobe and trying on different
outfits. If one struck my fancy I left it on for a while. Almost
always, though, I was naked. I loved being nude, being basic and
free, running about outside as far and wide as I wished without
feeling a blink of shame or fear. The wind caressed every inch of
me, my feet were impervious to the debris I ran over, my breasts
bounced enthusiastically to go along with my mood, my hair -
eternally chin-length - fluttered behind me.
We were never sick, and I don't recall ever being injured. Hunny-
Bear's medicine was potent and intoxicating, and sometimes, when he
was genuinely busy, I would remember the cabinet I had discovered
the first day full of "Hunny" jars - his stockpile in case of
medical emergencies - and sample the goods. Ostensibly making sure
it was still safe to consume; really, just enjoying the sweet,
biological flavor and fantasizing about milking his penis for the
real thing as soon as possible.
I had become a total creature of the woods, as civilized as Hunny-
Bear, and equally, as free: free of pressure, free of burden, and
most gloriously, free of self-consciousness. I simply was. My nude
form was me, as good as any outfit. My actions were my own,
unimpeded by the fearful, anxietal restrictions imposed by those
around me, all equally locked up by their own chains. It was good.
Oh, I don't think I can ever express how good it was.
Hunny-Bear had no clock, nor calendar. He said he had no use for
such things, because the only schedule he needed to follow was the
one the sun marked out for him each day. So I don't know how much
time passed. I tried to keep track at first, but once that
helicopter passed and I accepted my new place in life, my new role,
I realized I'd never need to know the exact date again. Days passed,
but with no real significance marking one from another. Some days
were good, other days were even better. It was sunrise, and then, it
was sunset again, a satisfying day behind me.
Was it just days? Or did days melt into weeks? Did weeks melt into
months? Did months... melt into years? I had no idea, and I didn't
care. I had Hunny-Bear. And Hunny-Bear had his cock and his cum, and
that meant I had it too. And that was all I wanted. All I needed.
- XVIII -
AND so it continued, time indeterminable, one blissful little day
after another. I got to know the many other inhabitants of the
Forest, but... perhaps that's another detail for another day. Well,
anyhow, one particular day, we were to go to Bargain Beaver's
General Dam for some thick, fluffy bread, so we could make French
toast the next day (but Hunny-Bear called it "fluffy toast," and I
humoured him). We needed eggs, too, but those were supplied by good
Mother Clucker, who was always generous with her daily egg supply,
ever since the bussie-boppers cursed her, too, a very long time ago.
Even Hunny-Bear hadn't known Mother Clucker before she was
transformed, and Hunny-Bear seemed to know everyone.
Ah, well. Anyway, we were just setting out along the way to Bargain
Beaver's, which was itself some distance from the Oak-House, when a
spontaneous urge came over me. Really, I was just looking for an
excuse to get my lips around Hunny-Bear's wonderful penis again, but
I was also feeling silly and playful.
So I shoved him. Hard. And without warning. Hunny-Bear toppled over,
his little trucker's hat flying off, and bounced into a nearby pile
of leaves - the path to Bargain Beaver's at one point gave way to a
broadleaf portion of the forest, intermixed with the pine - and his
shopping basket went bouncing away.
He leapt up, a look of mock rage on his face. "Bussie!" he
exclaimed. He still called me Bussie-Bopper, even after all this
time; everyone in the Forest did. It was partially because I enjoyed
it, as an affectionate title my Hunny-Bear had given me; it made me
feel warm, and possessed by someone, in a good way. But it was also
because even after all this time, I still had a mental block about
my real name. At first I just hadn't wanted to give it to Hunny-
Bear, but even when I was more than ready to... it just wouldn't
come. For some reason, this embarassed me, and so I never brought it
up, and Hunny-Bear never asked.
"Bussie, Bussie, Bussie!" he shouted, trying to sound angry with his
cute, raspy little voice. "I'll have you know that where I come from
- "
"Which is where I come from!" I squealed, giggling, happy to realize
it was true now.
He held back a laugh. " - that kind of behavior is considered a ..."
He coiled back on his haunches - oh no! he was going to leap! -
"...an offical challenge to a game of tag!"
"Oh no!" I shrieked, rushing off, giggling over my shoulder: "I
didn't know! I didn't know! Have mercy!"
He bounded after me: "Ignorance of the law does not put you above
the law!" he declared, nipping at my heels.
I zig-zagged in and out of the trees, dragging us off-course
considerably, and into an unfamiliar portion of the Forest. It was
starting to look weird, but I couldn't place why. I was too
distracted to care, anyway. Soon, he overtook me, and with a great
flying leap that had the excellent side-effect of pressing his warm,
thick penis up against the small of my back, he slammed into me. I
tumbled forward and landed face first in a big pile of leaves, with
Hunny-Bear lying on top of me, panting. His flaccid cock lay
dangling tantalizingly over the curve of my butt and down between my
thighs.
I began uncontrollably salivating, in several locations. I felt him
stiffen a little. "Mmmm," I mumbled, "Care to stroke some itchy
spots while you're down there?" I asked coquettishly.
His response made me squeal with childish indignance: "Not yet!" he
declared, leaping up, though obviously bursting with arousal
himself. "Because I do believe you've been tagged, and nobody ends a
game of 'tag' after one tag!" And with that, he scurried off.
"You... you rotten cunt-tease!" I shouted with playful indignance.
"I'll get you yet!"
I soon had him cornered, despite his feeble attempt to scurry up a
tree trunk (I yanked the cretin right off), and we tumbled down into
the leaf litter together once more. This time, I was propped up on
my hands, looking down at him, and he was below me, looking up. I
felt something tickle my belly button that made me very happy.
"Perhaps two 'tags' is a fair game?" he inquired, looking quite
horny.
Uh-uh. He wasn't getting away that easily, after he turned me on
like that and then dared to run off. "Sorry, buddy," I said with a
smooth grin, "Not where I come from!" And I dashed off, shouting
"You better count to 10 this time!"
The game continued like this, as we obliviously played and dragged
ourselves farther and farther off our intended path. I would be
hopelessly lost if this happened, but I wasn't worried because past
experience had proven Hunny-Bear to be a great navigator. So on and
on we darted through this unfamiliar section of the Forest, our game
of tag escalating further and further into an endurance test of our
libidos to see who would crack from the sexual need first. My thighs
were getting kind of slippery as I ran, for pete's sake, and it was
pretty funny to watch a little 3'5" golden bear-thing running around
with a wobbling erection stretching up his belly.
Eventually I came to a small edge of the forest floor, where it
dropped down abruptly, forming about a meter-deep 'cliff' with a
little ledge of dirt and plant matter curving over it. This little
ridge extended on maybe 50 meters in either direction. I've no idea
what a proper geomorphologist would call it, but, that's what it
looked like. The trees were much thinner in this region, also -
still a wooded area, for sure, but not nearly as dense as the Forest
I was used to. Hearing Hunny-Bear shout "Ready or not..." in the
distance, I quickly leapt down and crouched under the dirt overhang.
While I waited, I stared at a clump of plants near me and finally
figured out why the flowers here looked so weird. They were tiny,
and white, and simple. They were... normal. It had been so long
since I'd seen a flower that wasn't big, colorful, and perfect that
it actually seemed odd to see weedy, modest little blossoms. I shook
off the disorientation.
About 30 seconds later, I heard the leaves crunch-crunch-crunching
as his footsteps made a bee-line straight to where I was located.
Then his face popped down, upside-down, to look at me: "Tag?" he
suggested.
I rolled out from under the overhang and, kneeling, looked up at him
standing on the ground 3 or so feet above my level. "No fair!" I
whined, "How did you find me?"
He gestured behind himself: "Oh, it was a lovely hiding spot, really
truly, but... you also left a fairly blatant trail in the leaf
litter." Well, drat. I had been running kind of frantically at that
point, looking for a good hiding spot in the sparser section of
forest. I guess my previous attempts to keep my footfalls
consciously light had fallen off in my hurry.
"Well, darn," I pouted cutely, "couldn't you have at least pretended
not to know where I was? I mean, sheesh, you came right to me."
He grinned down at me. "Yes, I know, that would have been polite,
wouldn't it? But..." My eyes locked on his throbbing erection. "I
suppose I was getting a bit..." It pulsed again, in time with his
heartbeat. My already slick thighs felt renewed heat flush through
them. It was time. The game was over, now grown-up stuff needed to
happen. "...well, pardon the incivility, but impatient is a good
word." He smiled naughtily.
I only nodded my head in silent, highly relieved agreement. The
sexual burning in my body had been piqued to glorious heights by our
teasing little game, and it was going to feel... indescribably great
to let the floodgates open. On my knees like I was, my height was
perfect, my face just peeking over the edge, as he sat down with his
legs dangling at either side of my head.
I went to work immediately. Just the smell of his genitals as I
leaned forward set my pulse racing; the sensation of his firm, soft,
velvety cockhead touching my tongue and lips made me lightheaded;
his happy gasp of relief as my warm mouth engulfed his hard cock
made me let out my own moan of pleasure, and I began bobbing up and
down in slow, sensual motions, savoring the moment. I glanced at the
bland, normal little white flowers disdainfully.
Then I looked up at my Hunny-Bear, and he looked down at me, his
little beady black eyes twinkling, his cute little nose wiggling
slightly, his thin little mouth smiling wide. I stared up at him and
he stared down at me while his genitals slid through my eager lips.
He caressed my hair. I purred. Our eyes met, locked together in
glorious recognition of our sexual bond.
Then his head exploded.
No, I'm not making a cute sexual euphemism. His head exploded. One
moment I was staring into his eyes, the next moment there was a
pinata of red stuff bursting like a balloon, pieces of flesh
spraying out all around. I screamed around his still-erect penis,
frantically pulling my mouth off it, and screamed some more.
My body began quivering and shaking uncontrollably. I waited for my
eyes to open, for this to be a nightmare. This wasn't real. It
wasn't happening. His body wavered for a moment without my mouth's
support, then toppled forward, rolling off the ledge to land on the
ground nearby, leaking copious amounts of blood into the leaf litter
and soil. I screamed, again, hard. I scurried back. I crawled
forward. I cried uncontrollably, trying to comprehend what was going
on. I couldn't even look into his face one last time, because his
face no longer existed.
Then I heard something I hadn't heard in a long time. Voices.
People voices.
- XXIX -
"JESUS fucking Christ, Rich! What the hell did you just shoot?" came
one of the voices. A man.
"I have no idea. I didn't... I mean I wasn't trying to make it
explode, I thought it was a rabbit, I thought I'd bag us dinner!"
came another man's voice.
"No kidding," replied a third, "That gun sure as Hell shouldn't have
done that."
They were getting closer. I felt cold, and suddenly my nakedness
brought fear and embarrassment again. I huddled closer under the
edge, praying they wouldn't find me. I cried silently,
uncontrollably. This wasn't happening.
Flies were beginning to gather around Hunny-Bear's bloodied corpse.
Flies with big, cartoonish, Japanimated eyes. One of them buzzed
toward me. I tried to shrink into myself even more, to make it go
away. I didn't want to hear blithe woodland-creature chatter right
then. It flitted in lazy circles around my ear: "Murderer!" it
cried.
I peeked at it in shock. Me? I hadn't done this!
"Murderer!" it hissed again. "We know what you did to Sam the
Spider!" My heart sank. "We know! We fixed your mess because we all
loved Hunny-Bear too much to break his heart! But we knew! We knew
you were trouble!"
I tried to reply, but a bubble of terror and sorrow caught in my
throat and a strangled little gurgle followed by more tears is all
that came out.
"Murderer!" it cried again, spitting a tiny little drop of spit on
my cheek, "And now you've brought your plague of death into our
Forest again! We fixed your first mess! But we won't fix this one!
No, not this time! You pay for your crimes now, you pay!"
I tried to reply again, but could only watch in shock as the swarm
of flies buzzed like a whirlwind around my Hunny-Bear's mutilated
body. The sound of crunching leaves, just like a few minutes ago,
heralded impending footsteps. But these footsteps brought terror,
not excitement. I stared at the corpse as I listened to the voices
and footsteps approaching.
The flies circled it, faster and faster, and then it lifted into the
air ever-so-slightly, and then - evaporated. Gone. Like magic, it
wafted into the breeze like fine golden dust before dissipating
completely. Then the swarm turned and flew away as rapidly as it had
come. "Murderer!" I heard flung at me, one more time, before they
were gone.
Then men were in front of me. "Jesus - holy Hell, Richard! There's a
girl down here!"
"A girl? Like a hiker?" called another of the men. I heard his
footsteps approach, and there were two men before me.
"Maybe, but she's buck naked... not the kind of gear I'd go hiking
in!" replied Richard.
"Hey! Ted! Richard! I can't find any trace of what you shot, not
even a trail of blood, are you sure - holy shit, is that a naked
girl?" called the third man, finishing as he too stood before me.
Silence. I quivered and cried. Hunny-Bear was gone. It was my fault.
I led him out here. How could I?
"Hey... hey, honey, we're sorry for the coarse language, but we're
harmless, honest... just three friends out for some sport hunting...
are you... are you OK?" asked Richard, sounding concerned. I never
looked up at him. I just kept staring ahead, feeling cold.
"What happened to you?" asked Ted. "Do either of you recognize her
from any of those missing-persons fliers at the Lodge? I don't..."
"No clue," said the third man. "But come on, even if she's in shock
we can't leave her here. I'll go to the truck and call the
authorities, maybe she's a rape victim..." And his footsteps began
to trail off.
"Good idea, Mark," called Richard. "We'll stay here and try to keep
her calm and safe."
"Maybe we should help her up, take her back with us? She could be
hurt..." added Ted, leaning forward with his hand extended.
I shot up like lightning, my breasts slapping against me sharply.
They jumped back, scared shitless by the sudden movement.
"NOOOOOOOOOO!" I shrieked, "You killed him! You killed him!" I
cried, then took off running.
"Killed what? Killed who? Did we accidentally shoot your dog or
something? Oh, god, we're really sorry if - " trailed Ted's voice.
I was faster than them. I was used to the woods. I was used to
running, free and happy. Ted stayed behind, shocked. Richard took
off after me. I could hear his heavy footsteps. His boot-covered,
clumsy footsteps, crashing into the leaves and snapping the plants
and branches.
I ducked in and out of the trees. But I was lost. Where was I going?
How was I going to get out of here? I had nowhere to go. The Oak-
House was now a ghost-house. And even if I could bring myself to go
back there, I didn't know how. Hunny-Bear was the navigator. Not me.
I began crying. My head began swimming with panic. I was lost. I had
nowhere to turn. I slowed, stumbled, fell over in the leaves,
quivering.
I felt a big hand on my shoulder. I didn't have the energy to fight
it off. "Hey," said Richard softly, "Hey, we're not here to hurt
you, honest. We just... we just don't want to leave you out here. We
can't. Not in, you know, not in good faith... it's dangerous, and
you're... you don't sound well."
I just sat there, numb and limp, a rushing sound like the seashore
swelling up inside my ears. I didn't black out, but I did sort of...
stop living. Everything was just a gray blur for a while. Stuff
happened. I was picked up, carried places. Truck doors... a dog?
Stuff moving... the Forest getting farther and farther away,
dwindling like a dream... a pleasant little dream, shot dead and
withered.
- XXX -
AND then I was in a police station, with a drab gray blanket wrapped
around my otherwise-naked form. That's the next clear memory I have.
Someone was asking for my name. I think it was the third, maybe
fourth time they asked when I finally came back into focus for the
first time in many, many hours and realized someone was talking to
me. I looked up.
"Bu - " I began, then stopped. No. That wasn't my name, was it? Not
around people. Was it ever my name? What was my name?
"Bah..." replied the officer across the desk from me, gently. "Bah-
what?"
I shook my head. "Ba-ai don't know." I mumbled weakly.
"You don't have a name?" she asked, looking sympathetic. "Did you
forget? Or do you not want to give it to us? We're not here to
punish you, honey, we just want..."
She blathered on. I felt numb, and kind of confused. My brain was
starting to warp around, like when you have double-vision and keep
trying to focus your eyes, but can only make it worse. I wasn't sure
of anything all of a sudden. Why was I a girl? Why did they have a
female cop interview me? Because I was a girl. But why was I a girl?
That had felt right before, but now...
I heard her chair scrape against the tile. "I'll be right back, OK,
sweety? I'll be right back. I just need to ask someone some
questions." Her heavy, thick footsteps trailed off.
I looked around. I was unsupervised. No one else was in the room I
was seated in. I wrapped the blanket closer around myself, and stood
up firmly. I exited the room through the same door she had, glancing
around. I remembered the way they had brought me in. My skill with
navigating by landmarks and instinct had gotten a lot better in the
woods. The woods... the Forest... did that happen? I wondered,
shaking my heads.
Was I a delusional, druggie prostitute, who had some fantastic batch
of Dutch drugs and hallucinated a story about being a male hiker who
got humped by a pornographic version of a children's cartoon? I
pondered this as my brain went increasingly further out-of-focus;
thinking felt like viewing a 3-D film without the right glasses. Two
brains were superimposed over each other, and both felt like my real
one.
I slipped effortlessly through the police station. Apparently they
thought I was a rape victim left in the hills or something, because
I wasn't placed in a very secure location. Looking like a weak girl
can do wonders to remove suspicions, I guess. I peeked around the
corner. The reception area was the only thing blocking me from the
big double doors that led to the street. I took a deep breath, then
strolled forward confidently, smiling and nodding at a few desk
clerks. They looked a little uncertain, but my wave and smile seemed
to make them assume whatever had been wrong was worked out. "Going
home?" one called.
"Yes, thank god," I replied with a false gush of relief. They smiled
sympathetically. I scowled as soon as I turned around. And then I
was on the street, as free as you got in an urban environment.
Home. Was I going home? I remember the way. I knew the neighborhood
I was in. It would be a long walk, but I didn't exactly have loose
change crammed up my vagina - my vagina? What the hell? - so I
wasn't taking any taxis. Too psyched up to slow down now, I just
steeled myself and began strolling home. It was about 11 AM, based
on the sunlight. That gave me plenty of time to get home before it
became dangerous to walk around with only a blanket between your
boobs and crotch, and the rest of the world.
As I walked, my brain kept cycling. My thoughts felt like a car
whose accelerator was being floored, but whose tires weren't in
contact with the ground. Just spinning, spinning, spinning like
crazy, but getting nowhere as I plummeted uncontrollably. I felt
like I was tearing away cobwebs made of fog, one after another,
alien feelings imposed on me like manacles -
And then, bam, it snapped. I had been walking for hours - it was
late now, maybe 5:30 or 6 PM based on the failing sunlight - I was
only a few blocks from my condo - and my brain finally snapped
loose. Like a breaking tape. A tearing fan-belt. A busting rubber-
band. It came sailing out of the murk and grime it had been
submerged in, and splashed into a sea of concrete, urban clarity.
I swooned, collapsing against a nearby wall, then slid into a
remarkably clean alleyway to avoid stares and unwanted concern. I
was not a girl. I did not love a stupid rapist bear-thing named,
putridly enough, "Hunny-Bear". I did not want to run around the
forest, nude, like a moron, playing tag all day. I did not like
doing chores all day instead of working on interesting design
problems. I did NOT desire to spend my nights sucking some freakish
captor's cock, instead of clubbing and hunting for willing pussy. I
didn't want to wear girl's clothes or paint my toenails. I didn't
want to milk some fucked-up animal called a Moo-Girl.
I didn't want these! I wailed internally, clutching my B-cup boobs.
The blanket dropped and I stared, bewildered, at my body. This was
real? I didn't imagine it? I was... a girl? How? How did I let this
happen? Why did I do this to myself, ignoring the rescue helicopter,
serving that horrific creature and his demented Forest Pals?
My brain popped, fizzed, exploded with disbelief. I slumped down
against the ground, tugged the blanket around myself and over my
head, hoping passerby would mistake me for a garbage pile or a
sleeping bum. Make it stop. Make it go away. Make all the wrongness
go away, please. Please, please, please. I piled my hands over my
face -
And felt stubble. Stubble? Stubble?! That was new. Hadn't felt that
in a long time. I looked at my chest - still boobs. But boobs with
chest hairs on them? Was I... was I turning back?
Suddenly rage consumed me. That bear! That god-damn, motherfucking,
ass-eating, bastard-cunt-shit-faced motherfucking fuckfaced fucking
fuck-fucker bear! He had done this! He had made me think he was
"saving" me when in reality, his sick "medicine" - gah! I wretched
violently - was warping my brain, polluting my body!
I felt betrayed. Violently, hurtfully betrayed. And full of rage. I
was a man again, now I got angry. No need for tears when you could
kill things. Except the bastard was dead. Thank god. Good riddance.
At least he wouldn't do this to another soul, whatever the fuck he
was. I was angry at the hunters for taking my vengeance away, but
also indebted to them forever. Tomorrow I'd go to the police station
again, as a man, thank god, and find out their names, buy them the
priciest strippers in town, and send them over as an anonymous
thank-you.
Well... maybe I should verify they're not married, first. But I'd do
something for them, that's for sure. I owed them my life, I
realized, trembling. God, how long had I been gone like this? How
many months - years, I thought, terrified - had been torn from me
running around that stupid forest with that stupid bear? How much
more of my life would I have lost, if I hadn't been lucky enough, in
my stupid, braindead state, to lead that bear into the sights of
their rifles?
At some point, the overwhelming stress, hurt, rage, and other
emotions forming a seething cauldron of swirling black and red
inside my skull burned itself out, and I mercifully passed out.
I woke up as a man. I mean, in body. I was always a man mentally, I
reminded myself. I was naked save for a blanket (which seemed much
smaller, suddenly), and lying in an alleyway like a homeless person,
but my body was back. Just like I remembered it. God, it felt ...
good. I gave my penis - oh penis, I love you!, I thought - a
welcome-home squeeze, and resolved to do much more to celebrate with
it later.
Then I cautiously dragged myself up off the ground - good, it was
nighttime, not much time had passed - and slunk out of the alleyway,
covering the last couple blocks to my condo at breakneck pace.
My condo. Was it still mine? I had no idea how long I'd been gone. I
didn't even have my key. Good lord, how things had gotten fucked-up.
I gritted my teeth as I approached the gates of my complex, and
hoped the old key-code still worked. Boop. Boop. Boop. Boop. ... Ba-
deep! Oh, yes! It did! I smiled.
This was good. This was good because they changed the key-code every
six months. I didn't remember when the new one had last been added,
but it meant that, in a worst-case scenario, I had been gone 6
months. Probably fewer. That little piece of shit hadn't robbed me
of too much of my life.
Trying to get into my condo was pointless without the key, so
instead I headed a few addresses down, to the houses. The guy who
owned the land this complex was built on also lived in it. This
fortuitous fact ensured that the general state of the place was kept
very, very nice for the rest of us, since he acted as a sort of
"uber-landlord", even though we all owned (or made payments on...)
our own place. He liked seeing his investment keep people happy.
That, and the contract for the homeowners association here gave him
a cut of all re-sales. It was convoluted, but the point is, he had a
key to most of our houses, and in exchange we-who-participated could
trust him to take care of any basic repairs we needed.
Alright, I know, this kind of discussion is boring. It just felt so
good, at the time, to be back to my own self, my own mind, my own
life, that I was enjoying thinking about this mundane stuff. So, I
arrived at his place around, eh, 8 PM? Maybe 9? And, taking a deep
breath and mustering all the cordiality I could, rang the doorbell.
"Hel - good Lord, really?" That's exactly what he said. I know, it
doesn't make a lot of sense, but he was shocked, you could tell.
"Yep, really," I replied, smiling dopily and trying to keep the
blanket covering me properly.
"Have you - I ... come in!" he exclaimed. My eyes darted to his
crotch. Well, that's a nasty habit we'll be breaking soon, I told
myself, and relished my memory of the bear's bloody corpse.
"I can't believe it's you," he continued, as he led me to his
kitchen, where his wife was equally startled, "You're such a good
neighbor, when your mailbox started filling up we all got worried
and I checked your house... you had a lot of messages wondering
where you were. Thats when we contacted local agencies, our best
guess was you had an accident while hiking, because we knew you
liked to disappear out there all day long, and... well, we've all
been worried sick the last month."
Month?
Month!
I had been gone... a month?
That felt unreal. In my memories, it felt like an eternity I had
spent out there, trapped with that psychopath and his allies. It
couldn't have been a month. That felt acutely inaccurate, even
though I hadn't kept track of the days in any way.
But, who cares? Someone, who knew for sure, said I had been gone for
about a month. My life could recover from that. My condo probably
still had all my stuff in it! I could pick up where I left off
unaffected by that ordeal, sans psychological scars.
We made more small talk, I made up a semi-truthful story about
taking an unfamiliar trail, falling down a long slope, and then
being totally disoriented. Manly tales of catching rabbits with
makeshift weapons and collecting water overnight on crudely-
constructed plant-stem nets to survive. I think I fought off a wolf
at one point. It didn't matter; all I had to do was make the
authorities - like my bank and credit card agencies - happy enough
to excuse any irresponsibility on my part, and make my family and
friends feel better. I figured this half-truth was a better story to
tell people than "I was the prisoner of a cartoon bear who raped me
repeatedly with his giant penis".
Was it rape? I seemed awfully happy about it at the time. Didn't I
usually initiate it?
Fuck off, I scolded the corners of my brain that tried to turn this
around on me. I was violated, I knew it, and I wasn't about to
settle for any gray-area explanations.
Around 11 PM, after we ate and called various local authorities
together to clear up my status, I thanked my neighbor thoroughly,
spare key in hand, and strolled back to my apartment. I saw the
impatient red of my answering machine blinking like a cyclopic
epileptic, but had no energy to deal with it. I saw my couch, with a
blanket piled on it in the same position it had been in when I left
for that fateful hike a month ago. It looked so tempting. I was so
tired.
But first, there was one more thing to do before I could sleep. I
had to know. I had to know for sure that I had been freed from
whatever mind-fuck that sick little creature had done to me. My
computer rose to life out of stand-by mode, and I went directly to
my Internet browser. Then Google Image Search.
I hesitated. Even though no one was in the condo, I glanced over
each shoulder. Then I typed in "penis" and let the results come up.
Hmmm. Alright. Nope, no reaction. I got excited. I was free! I
didn't have permanent brain damage! I decided to keep going. I tried
"gay porn". Wow. Well, alright. Those were some... images I could
have gone my life without seeing. Then I realized I had probably
enacted many of these positions, and my hatred of that bear flared
up again.
Except, wait. I didn't enact these positions, did I? Because I had
been female at the time. Did that really happen? I looked down at my
very male body and clearly flaccid penis (which made me quite happy,
given the circumstances). It seemed a bit ludicrous to believe, now.
Well, whatever. Tired of my mind flopping in spirals trying to
figure out what was real and what was imagined, I closed my broswer,
annihilated every trace of my Internet history for the day, and then
returned my computer to stand-by.
The important thing was that I was back to my normal, everyday,
safe, happy, unthreatened, straight, male, self. That felt... really
good, after a month of that ordeal. Within minutes of shedding the
blanket and hitting my kind-of dusty couch, I was asleep.
- XXXI -
THE next morning consisted of a good deal of tying-up loose ends
that had come unraveled during my month of captivity. I played back
message after message - some from clients, wondering where their
project was; some from people who wanted my money very much and
wanted to know why they didn't have it yet; some from very concerned
friends and family. It was noon by the time I finished calling
everyone, and I started at 7 AM. My story was getting really, really
boring to me - my fake story - by the time I related it for the
umpteenth time.
Shortly thereafter some news vans stopped by to interview me for a
softball story they could shove into their scheduling when they ran
out of important news. I trudged through my boring-ass story AGAIN,
putting gusto I didn't feel into it to please the cameras. Then it
was off to my parents' home (mansion, practically) for a giant
"Welcome Back" party that managed to garner an astonishing number of
people for such unbelievably short notice. It was strange to know so
many people were worried enough about me to find out and attend.
My parents were rich, and threw good (read: very wet) parties, so
maybe that was a factor too. Well, anyway, it was a nice night. I
actually appreciated it a lot, being thrust so thoroughly back into
my old life, immersed by familiar and safe things that took me very
far away from the scary, insane thoughts, desires, and experiences
that the bear had thrust upon me. Or was it the bussie-boppers? I
shook my head angrily. There's no fucking bussie-boppers! I told
myself, shuddering at the nickname it reminded me of. It was all a
lie! Lies to keep you trapped as his slutty little sex slave!
I turned back to the party. My sister had wandered over, a spitting
image of me if I had ... been a girl. My stomach flipped a little.
She hugged me, for the nine-hundreth time, telling me again how
worried she was, how glad she was to see me. At least she didn't try
to stop me from taking my hikes, like my mom did. I told her it was
great to see her, she was so pretty... her hairstyle was new, she
was wearing it a lot longer since the last time I saw her (well
beyond a month ago - I was a busy person!), and it looked awesome on
her. And her dress was... well, it was great. She blushed at all my
compliments, especially the dress, which was also one of her
favorites.
I wasn't usually this interested in her girly stuff. We had been
friendly siblings - not the stereotypical childhood enemies you
might expect from twins - but never that close. She did her stuff, I
did mine. When we grew into teenagers, and our interests diverged
even more, our childhood tendency to ride as partners-in-crime split
apart more decisively. She had boyfriends, formal dresses, make-up.
I had... I dunno. I never did anything, really. I didn't like tuxes,
dances made me feel awkward, sports irritated me - I ran cross
country and track, because running didn't involve balls - I mostly
just focused on academics, really. It wasn't until college, when
being pointlessly smart was enough to get you laid, that I started
having a lot of girlfriends and blending into the social world. I
guess I was always artistic. Maybe that was my "high school thing".
And that's probably why I worked as a graphic designer after
college.
We kept talking. We were getting along better than we had in a long,
long time. We were just... connecting. I assumed it was because of
the scare I had given everyone. You know, it reinvigorated old
emotions, reminded us what we could lose. The grand entryway and
mezzanine of my parents' house glowed grandly in the twinkling
lights of endless chandeliers, filled with a moving mass of people
in fancy evening outfits, milling and socializing, sampling the many
last-minute catered goods and alcohols. I took it all in. It felt so
pointless. Growing up in luxury makes you not really care; you
realize what shit people are actually aspiring to when they dream of
being wealthy.
I was happy with my condo and my graphic design work and my tidy
income, even if my name didn't turn anyone's head anywhere in the
design world. Oh well. At least Pat's Amazing Cheesesteaks had a
logo that didn't make me wretch at its typographic incompetence. I
liked being on my own. I had taken out a student loan to get through
college, refusing to let my parents help me, because I wanted
incentive to succeed afterwards. I didn't want to feel like a loser
who burned through college just to go get a bland job they could
have done with any degree. You know? Like, "Oh awesome, I majored in
Mesopotamian Architectural History, time to go take customer-service
calls for Merrill Lynch." That's following your passion. Sure, real
life happens. But fuck real life, right?
That's why I had been so determined to make my Visual Design degree
mean something for me. To pay off my student loan with work I cared
about. And it worked. I had done it, all on my own, without my rich
parents bailing me out. And then I was... happy eluded me. I felt,
uhm, triumphant. And... yeah. Not good enough to keep my periodic
frustration and sensation of pointlessness from driving my ex-
girlfriend away, but good enough to make me feel like I took on the
world's expectations and beat them.
All this sifted through my mind like sand, working in the background
while I talked to my sister about the way her earrings matched her
nail polish. It was cool. It was a cute way of adding coordination,
using a mutable accessory and a more permanent decoration. I was
having so much fun.
Fun.
There.
That was what was bugging me the last five or six paragraphs. All
that rolling-over of my life story, the word "fun" was missing.
Skill, triumph, stubbornness, intelligence, but not "fun". I had
never, ever thought about it that way before. Why? Did I think fun
was unimportant? Probably. Fun was weak. Fun was what girls used an
excuse for their behaviors that I derided. "Why do you let him make
you give him head?" "It's fun." I didn't get it. Fun was what other
people seemed to have.
And now I was having fun, talking to my sister about her shoes.
"They are, it's true. Even with the heel." she replied. I looked
down.
"Yeah, what is it, seven inches?" I asked innocently.
"I'm not a hooker!" she exclaimed, laughing. "They're three inch
heels. Way too long already," she smiled.
"Oh," I chuckled, "well, close enough, right?" She nodded uh-uh. "Is
it that big a difference?"
She nodded. "Yeah, it really is. There's getting used to 3-inchers,
and then there's getting used to 5-inchers. I mean, sort of, heels
are heels, but also kind of not. Different heights take different
balance... and it gets easier to, you know, fall over when you're
drunk as they get longer." She laughed.
"I bet," I laughed back. "Do you have trouble moving in these ones?"
"No, no, I'm used to this kind of stuff... I do 2-inchers at work
usually. Not too big a step up."
"Plus, they look awesome enough to make up for any stumbling," I
added sincerely.
She grinned at the compliment. I hadn't seen her look so happy
around me in ages. She punched my shoulder. "I can't believe how
much fun I'm having with you! It's like all this stuff we never
talked about... I didn't realize you cared. You seemed so boyish
when we were kids, I didn't want to embarrass you or anything. Now I
wish I had actually asked you whenever I thought about going down
the hall for advice about my outfit!"
That comment made me feel... really good. Like I fit in, in a way
I'd never quite felt. "Yeah," I chuckled, "me too."
We paused, rattling our drinks around quietly.
"Hey," I began, shakily, "can I ask you something... well... weird?"
"Weird?" she began, arching her eyebrows mischievously.
"For a brother to ask a sister." She only looked more interested.
"Oh, yes! Like what? Do you want sex tips?" Her enthusiasm made me
have second thoughts. My sister was opening up to me like she never
had before.
"No ... not really."
She kept smiling, warmly. "Well go on, geez."
"When you were - I mean, if you don't want to answer this, feel free
to not reply, because - " I stammered.
"Go on! I don't care!" she urged, laughing.
"Well. Alright. When you were first, you know, becoming...
sexual..." Her eyes lit up, and she nodded happily. "Did you, I
mean, did you ever feel slutty? Like, you know, like in embracing
your sexuality you were going overboard, demeaning yourself?" I
finished shakily.
She didn't laugh at me, or act disgusted. "Yeah, kind of. It's
different for girls, you know? Like, the more we embrace our
sexuality, the closer we get to abandoning ourselves completely to
someone else's desire. With guys, it's like, the more sexual they
get, the more they turn into a conqueror, that's independent, you
know? But girls feel guilty, like we're, I dunno, becoming sluts
just for feeling submissive. Not, like, BDSM submissive, but...
right, you get it. Yeah. Yeah, it was kind of a scary time, I felt
like a slut sometimes. But girls get over it. Well, I did. You
realize it's not an inferior... I dunno, role? It's not an inferior
role, just different. And sooooo good." she smirked.
"Yeah." I replied, avoiding eye contact.
She laughed. "Sorry. Did I creep you out? Is that not what you want
to hear from your sister? You did ask."
"No! No, it's fine, totally, thank you." I replied. What had
compelled me to ask that? It was a burning curiousity that had
surged into me the more we had chattered that night. It felt like a
comfortable thing to discuss with... a girl. I wanted to say another
girl, but battered it down. What had that ... bear? Was it real? ...
had it done to me?
"So why?" she asked innocently, "Do you have a new girlfriend? Oh, I
know, I get it, don't tell me - she's a virgin, one of those pretty
girls who never got their skirt down in high school, and you want to
know how to deal with her?"
"Erm," I stammered, searching for a lie that would let me drop this
as fast as possible, feeling confused, "Sort of. My... uhm... I
broke up with a girl recently because, yeah, she was still a virgin
and... I was going too fast, she said I made her feel, uhm, dirty."
"Oh," frowned my sister, "she was probably not ready for a real
relationship, then. You know, a sexual one. Just let her go. You're
way too good a guy for that kind of head-bending crap." She smiled
at me with warm sincerity.
Was I?
- XXXII -
WAKING the next day was relatively painless. I had been so
distracted socializing with my sister that I drank considerably less
alcohol than I would've expected of myself at a party held in my
honor. My back-from-the-dead honor, no less. I groaned habitually at
my alarm, slapped it off, and then rolled out of bed.
My morning proceeded in a perfectly average way. This was a great
thing, considering the insanity my life had recently been subjected
to. I got up, I showered, I ate breakfast. Delicious flake-based
cereal. Not a hint of good country cooking. No eggs, no pancakes, no
waffles, and for the love of god, no milk. Well, that was my
original mantra. But my cereal was rather unpleasant without it, so
I relented and poured milk over it, thankful that it at least tasted
different than Moo-Girl's.
Moo-Girl.
The thought struck my mind out of nowhere. What was she going to do,
if Hunny-Bear was dead? She needed to be milked twice a day, and her
sexual hunger relieved, or she'd both go mad and be in agony. That
was, what, two? Three? days ago, already? Her boobs must be ready to
explode, and she'd probably broken down the walls of the Barn in a
lusty madness. Maybe she was out trying to rape any male inhabitant
of the Forest she came across. Maybe they had already put her down.
I shook my head.
Was I honestly thinking these things? First of all, who cared if
that godawful freakish cow-pet-thing that awful bear had turned a
perfectly healthy woman into died? It would put her out of her
misery. Second of all, why was I contemplating the fate of
delusional hallucinations induced while wandering in the hills? I
began to wonder if my "fake story" I had been telling everyone was
the real one, seeping back into my memory after a psychotic break in
the wilderness convinced me I was the prisoner of an evil bear...
thing.
I finished my cereal and sat down at my computer to get started on
one of the design projects I had fallen horrifically behind on
thanks to my month-long "vacation". My clients had been surprisingly
understanding, but I was now under severe time pressure to finish
several jobs ASAP. All of this felt terribly, wonderfully, utterly,
totally, average and normal. I rejoiced.
This particular client needed a Flash introduction and menu system
for their website. Some sort of industrial-chemical supplier with
locations all over the state. It didn't sound thrilling when I first
took the job, but chemistry gives you a lot of little design
elements to play with. I had a basic outline of my design ready,
which would have the menus of the website emulating the periodic
table. Different elements would lead you to sections of the website
that started with that letter. "Cobalt" led to "Contact
Information", and so on.
It took me a few hours, but I had the rough graphics in place,
enough to test if it would work. Then I'd go back and detail them
out once I knew how to structure everything. Next came coding it,
which is the part I always loathed. The design process ground to a
halt and bottlenecked into the annoyingly linear world of
programming language, where everything had to logically follow
everything else. Sure, it sounds simple and direct, but I'm just not
a whiz when it comes to coding.
Still, it was cheaper for me to grind through it than to contract
outside help, and after doing this for several years it was getting
a lot faster and easier. Sometimes I tried something new - like this
menu design - and then everything would slow down to a learning pace
again. This occurred after I'd been working on the coding for about
30 minutes. I found myself staring at the screen blankly, with no
idea why everything I did created the wrong set of reactions.
I stared some more. I got up, went to the kitchen, and came back
with a bag of yogurt-coated pretzels, munching away under the excuse
of replenishing all the blood sugar I'd burned away thinking about
the design problems. I set the pretzels aside and tried a few more
lines of code. One thing worked properly, another still didn't. I
was stumped again. I stared some more. I drummed my fingers. I
scratched my arm. I sighed, got up, stretched my arms and legs, sat
back down again. I scratched my nose. I checked my e-mail. I tried a
few more things I knew wouldn't solve it, and they didn't. I
scratched my ear as I checked the daily news.
Then my phone rang.
Usually I hated when the phone rang, because it interrupted my
concentration, which annoyed me furiously, and then added another
distraction to my day. Either a client wanted something changed,
someone had a new project I had to drop everything to discuss rates
over, a solicitor was wasting my time, a family member was not
respecting my designated contact hours, et cetera, et cetera.
Sometimes, though, it was like sound waves wrapped in candy, because
it gave me an excuse to quit working on something I hated without
chastising myself for being lazy. This was one of those times. I
leapt forward and picked up the receiver, rattled off my rehearsed
business greeting, and then got my reply. It was one of my local
friends, one of the few I hadn't seen at the party. He sounded
apologetic, and concerned.
"Listen, I'm so glad you're safe," he continued, "and I'm so sorry,
again, that I couldn't make the party. I just had so many stops that
night - "
"It's OK, really." I assured him.
"So, listen, can I take you to lunch today? It's not a big party,
but I'd like to celebrate your survival too." he asked.
I thought for the few moments I could before sounding rude. I had a
lot of work to catch up on. A lot. But I also didn't want to face
this menu coding problem for as long as I could put it off. And hey,
I had just gotten back... a slow start was excusable, right? "Sure,"
I replied, "that's very nice of you."
And the conversation wrapped up. I looked at my computer's clock:
10:25 AM. That gave me about an hour-and-a-half, give or take,
before I had to meet him for lunch. Not enough time to feel
comfortable working. If I got into the middle of something, figured
out the coding problem, I'd be impatient and irritable all through
lunch, itching to get back to work on it. So, I had 90 minutes to
kill, basically.
Then I remembered I wanted to go down to the police station and find
out the names of the men who saved me, so I could send them a big
thank-you. I spent a few seconds thinking up a suitable cover story,
considering I was a female when they brought me in (wasn't I?), and
then...
And then still had about 15 minutes to kill, for sure, because there
was no way heading to the police station and getting the information
would take 90 minutes. Even if it did, that'd work out well, since
the restaurant we were meeting at was on the same side of the city.
It would take no time at all to switch between the two locations.
I lazily popped open my web browser, deciding I could do some
research for another portion of this design project before I got
ready to leave. All I had to do was fuss with my hair for a few
seconds and brush my teeth, since I had shaved already. Shaving -
previously a mild annoyance, now a glorious celebration of
everything I had briefly lost. Maybe. Was it all a hallucination?
Whatever. Anyway.
So I went to the image search again and typed in "Erlenmeier flask".
It asked me if I meant "Erlenmeyer flask". Well, I guessed so? It
brought me pictures of what I wanted. I found a few good shots,
saved them to the project's directory, and then started to type in a
search for "phosphorus", to see what the stuff looked like exactly
so I could design a background for one of the site's sections. I hit
the "P" key, and a little suggestion box popped down under the
search box: pan pizza, pebble, penis, pig, pizza, pop rocks,
Protestant. Didn't I clear my Internet history? Argh... there was
always some corner of data that didn't get eradicated.
I keyed down a few entries so I could manually delete the "penis"
suggestion. Then I hovered over the Delete key a few moments, and
instead hit Return. And then Return again. I wasn't sure why,
really, I just... felt like seeing the results again. Soon a gallery
of thumbnail-sized penises (go ahead, giggle) was in front of me. I
clicked a particularly clear and healthy specimen, of the flaccid
variety, which was linked to a medical-health web site. It came up
on my screen in full-resolution glory, occupying the entire monitor.
And I... stared. Just sort of... hypnotized. It was so...
fascinating. It was... it was... was it pretty? It was pretty. I
liked it. I wanted to reach out and kiss it, feel its soft, rubbery
firmness plump up in my hand... or my mouth... or...
I startled in my chair. I had zoned out completely, daydreaming. Was
I looking at a penis the whole time? Why not just look at my own?
What was... what had gotten into me? I startled again when I looked
at the clock: 10:45 AM. I had wasted almost 20 minutes, fogged-out
in front of a 1280x1024-scale penis! I scratched my knee without
noticing, and then jumped out of my chair. How did I go from having
so much time to kill, to running perilously close to late? And what
had gotten into me?
I flew through getting ready, waiting impatiently as my electric
toothbrush whirred away inside my mouth. It felt kind of naughty to
have this big, round object pulsating away between my lips... I
shook my head again, knocking a tooth against the vibrating head.
What the hell was getting into me? I kept trying to ignore the cold
feeling in my spine. Was this... was that bear's curse coming back?
No. No way. I was free, and it hadn't happened anyway.
Then I rushed down from my condo and - stopped. It then, finally,
occurred to me that my truck still hadn't been recovered from its
spot outside the dirt parking area that led to the forest hiking
trails. How had I not thought about my truck in almost 3 days since
being found myself? Had my lack of transportation never entered my
mind? I had walked home from the police station... then a friend,
who was invited and lived a few blocks away, had given me a ride to
my parents' party. Then... I got dropped off and... Amazing. I'd had
no need for my own transportation, and hadn't even thought about it.
How could anyone be that absent-minded to forget their own vehicle
existed? I had been through a lot recently, but...
So, lacking time to really think about this, I jogged out the front
gate and down a short block to the main thoroughfare that was near
my condo. Flagging down a taxi took no time at all, and soon enough
I was in the back seat being driven toward the police station. Fare
was going to kill me, but, eh, that's what I got for being too numb-
skulled to remember to pick up my pick-up.
The taxi driver was cute - very young, surprisingly handsome, with a
subtle Middle Eastern flare to his looks. I stopped myself from
trying to glance at his crotch as I climbed in to the back. "You can
sit in the front, you know," he replied, in perfect, accent-free
English.
I nodded politely and shrugged. "Oh, duh... well, I'm here now." He
smiled and shrugged. I didn't want to admit that the back seat
afforded a smaller chance of me being able to stare at him... or his
crotch... and a much, much smaller chance of being noticed if I did.
With no clue what was coming over me, I assumed that I was creating
my own problem: I was so afraid of my experience in the Forest
having a permanent effect on me, that I was riling my brain into
acting that way. You know? Like when someone tells you, "Don't look
at me!" the first thing you do is stare as hard as you can. You
can't help it.
So I figured, once I put enough time between me and my ordeal, I'd
probably calm down and everything would go back to normal. OK. Cool.
I could live with that. In the mean time, I just had to be careful
to not give the poor guys I was around the impression I was gay.
Especially not the gay ones.
And then we were in front of the police station. I thanked the cab
driver and started to get out, and he coughed loudly, then smiled.
"Oh, uhm... you have a very nice cab." I replied, lost.
"You gonna pay me?" he asked, good-natured but a bit perplexed.
"Oh!" I exclaimed, feeling like an idiot. I was so distracted I was
forgetting simple things. "Yes. Of course. What's the fare?"
"That'd be $65." he replied, glancing at his meter.
Good god. Oh well, so it goes. I fished out my wallet and paid him.
He coughed again. "It's for the tip," I replied, confused. I had
left an extra five dollars in with my payment.
He laughed. "That's a hell of a tip. You sure, buddy?" He fanned the
bills out for me. There were three 20s, and a 10. I blinked.
"What's the problem?" I asked, feeling confused and embarrassed at
my cluelessness.
"You really mean to give me a 95 dollar tip?" he asked, flapping the
10-dollar bill.
I stared, and stared, as he handed it to me. Slowly it dawned on me
that it was "100", not "10". The two numbers looked so similar to
me, it was confusing. I knew I should not be confused by this - I
did my own taxes, I was good at math, I ran my own business - but
right now, I was. I went back to my wallet and picked up another
bill with 1 and 0 on it. I held it up to him, trying to hold back
the helplessness in my voice: "Is this more reasonable?" I replied.
He laughed again. "Yeah, buddy. 5 bucks makes a little more sense.
Not that I'm complaining if you wanna leave the other one, but...
you know... I figured I wouldn't try to fuck you over, you know?" He
smiled, and took the 10. We said friendly good-byes and he drove
off.
Why the hell had I been so stupid? I stared at the 100-dollar bill.
It was just... hard... to tell the two apart. At least the 20-dollar
ones had a different shape to the number. Didn't the 100 have
different pictures than the 10? I didn't have any more 10s, or if I
did, they had the same picture as the 100 I was holding... I was
getting confused... I gave up, and started walking in to the police
station, rehearsing my story in my head.
I thought about it. I was kind of disappointed he didn't want to
fuck me over. I giggled a little at that thought. Not really, of
course, but you know... if we're taking things in a naughty way... I
was smiling big as I walked through the double-doors of the police
station.
"Hi," I said as I reached the counter. "A few days ago my sister was
brought in here by three men who were out hunting in the forest..."
I began.
"Oh!" exclaimed the desk clerk, "Yes, I remember her! Pretty, pretty
little thing." That made me smile, because I knew it had been me.
And she thought I was pretty. Mwa, ha, ha.
"Yes, she's lovely," I gushed, "Anyway, she can't get down here very
easily during the day due to her working arrangements, but do you
happen to know who the three men were? We really, really want to
thank them, send them a little something nice..."
She smiled brightly. "How nice! Just tell me your sister's name and
I'll pull up the file..."
"Oh," I said, "she was very embarassed by the whole ordeal. She said
she thought everyone thought she was raped, when she had just been
the victim of a sorority prank, and, uhm, so she ran away before you
could take her name. Will that be a problem?"
The clerk frowned. "Ah, I see... let me get the officer who was
working with her. You're lucky, she's caught up filing some
paperwork here, otherwise she'd be out all day."
A few minutes later the officer showed up, and I remembered her
quite clearly, sitting across a table from me and trying to get a
name out of me. But she didn't show any recognition of me at all.
Wait. Did that mean I really was a different person when she saw me?
Or that I had a different face? Then again, people in this line of
work saw so many faces each day, why would she remember mine? "Can I
help you?" she asked.
The clerk and I explained the made-up situation I had presented. A
look of understanding came over the officer's face: "Oh, yes, I
remember her! Cute little thing, I felt terrible for her. I'm glad
it was nothing serious, but you need to let her know she can't cut
and run like that. We were going to open an investigation on those
men, and we've all been on the look-out for her whenever we're on
the streets. We thought she was a runaway, or a prostitute, or god
knows what."
I expressed sympathy at the officer's position, and then continued:
"I'm very sorry. She's very headstrong, and tends to be very
impulsive. I assure you no harm was meant..."
This continued back and forth for about 10 minutes, with the officer
insisting I bring my sister in for positive identification if I
wanted case details, and me trying to charm and swerve my way
through the red tape to just get what I wanted. It was very
important to me that those three men who saved me get what they
deserved. To my delight, the officer eventually relented, after I
agreed to let her call the three men herself and get their
permission to give their information to me.
They were very excited to meet the girl they had saved, and her
family, and find out what had happened to her. I left the police
station with a flurry of thank-yous and smiles, the men's names, and
their phone number. Yes, just one. They were, apparently, all
roommates, attending one of the local universities as graduate
students. Well, good. That made their reward simpler. I took out my
cell phone -
Well, no, I didn't. I was going to call them on my cell phone, but
that was another thing that hadn't crossed my mind to replace since
I got back from the woods. Since that evil bear broke it. Or did I
break it, in a hallucinatory haze? Either way, I currently had no
cell phone. That would not please my clients, I was certain. I made
a point to remind myself to stop by the cell store later that day
and purchase a replacement. Maybe even get it for free if I told my
story properly.
So I stopped by a pay phone. Wow, it had been a long time since I
used one of these. Maybe that was why I had so much trouble getting
it to work. First I picked it up and tried talking into it. Then I
remembered I had to dial. Duh. So I did, but a voice told me to
deposit money in it. Oops! Duh! So I tried shoving a dollar-bill
into the little coin slot. It was more than it asked for, but I
figured the extra could be the tip. That didn't work. I stared.
Finally, I got a passing man to help me with it; he looked at me
like I was stupid and I felt sheepish. "Oh," he said, "some idiot
shoved a paper bill into the slot." I avoided eye contact. He pulled
my dollar out, put it in his pocket, then placed the coins in that
the machine asked for. "There you go," he said, smiling at me like I
was a mental patient. Maybe he thought I was? Oh well, it was
working now, and I dialed.
Why had that confused me so much? I shook my head, as if coming out
of a fog. Of course I knew how to use a fucking pay phone! God. I'd
heard that stress could mess your brain up for a while until you
recovered, but this was pushing it. Oh well, again: it was working
now, and this wouldn't take long, so I just wanted to get it over
with and move on. It rang, I heard a familiar voice pick up, and a
bolt of fear shot through me that I had to quickly calm down; then I
explained I was the brother of the girl they had rescued, and we had
a brief, friendly chatter.
"OK," I said, "now let me ask you something honestly."
"Go for it, man," replied Richard, to whom I was speaking.
"Are any of you three married?" I asked slyly.
He laughed. I heard him call into the background: "Her brother wants
to know if either of you two are married!"
Someone said, "Is he gonna marry her off as a reward?" More
laughter. Then Richard returned to me:
"Naw, bro, none of us are married. Why?"
"Well, I was thinking that you three really deserve a hell of a
reward for saving me...ai... my sister like that. How does me
sending a first-class stripper to your door and a keg of your
favorite drink sound?" I asked, grinning.
I heard him laugh really hard. "Holy shit, dude, you're awesome.
That sounds pretty damn good, man. Honestly, though, you don't need
to do anything - we just wanted to help her. She seemed really
scared and lost."
Because you killed her friend, I thought bitterly for a moment. Then
it evaporated. "No, I really want to though. Unless there's another
reward you'd prefer...?"
He convened with the other two for about 10 seconds before they
unanimously assured me they would like that reward very much, just
as it was offered. I took down their address, we had friendly
goodbyes, and then I glanced at my watch: 11:45 AM. Just enough time
to get to the restaurant. I took off jogging from the pay phone,
over a few crosswalks and down a few blocks, and still arrived with
5 minutes to spare. Great! I loved it when everything worked out.
- XXXIII -
MY friend greeted me after I had been sitting in the lobby of the
restaurant about three minutes. "Hi," I replied, "good timing. I
just got here." I smiled. I noticed a subtle, but definite, bulge in
his trousers and licked my lips without realizing it. Did he always
wear pants this tight? Or maybe the pants weren't tight, his bulge
was just... big, I thought with a tinge of excitement. I frowned
inwardly. What the fuck? Get over it, brain. Stop trying to do
everything I tell you not to, I grumbled at my own mind.
He didn't seem to notice any of this. He just smiled and said,
"Shall we be seated?"
The hostess - a cute little thing with awesome red hair done in an
intricate updo and held in place with two long pins - led us to a
table, and my friend frowned. "Oh, this isn't the place I reserved."
She looked at her chart, and shook her head: "This is the table you
reserved - 34B." 34B? I thought. Sounds like what my bra size
would've been when I was living with Hunny-Bear. I giggled to
myself.
"No," frowned my friend, not noticing my noise, "I wanted that one
over there - can I see your chart? - yeah, see, this one's marked
34E. That's definitely the one I asked for."
"Oh," said the hostess, thinking. "OK. Maybe they wrote the E too
much like a B and you got entered into the computer wrong. I'll...
just seat you there, and work it out with my manager, OK?" She
smiled sweetly. I admired what a sweet smile she could get on her
face. If I smiled like that, I'd look like a dopey gorilla, not
cute. I scratched the back of my neck as we were led to the table.
We settled in and she left us with the menus. "Sorry about that,"
said my friend, "I just wanted a more private location."
I nodded absently, not really paying attention to him. "No problem,"
I said. Then I laughed: "Market price? They're admitting they buy
this one from the market?" I was imagining frozen dinners.
He looked at me weirdly. "You have such a strange sense of humor
sometimes."
I looked back at the menu. Market price wasn't funny? Wait...
wait... that meant... it meant the price of the ingredients changed
the cost each day, right? OK. Duh. I knew that. I think. It just...
I had a blank spot. Again. Bread was brought to the table, and our
waitress smiled and took our drink orders. I found myself asking for
a glass of milk before I even realized what I was saying. She just
nodded and wrote it down, and my friend ordered some kind of soda. I
scratched my cheek.
I noticed the bread was soft, but long and thin. Kind of... penile
in shape. I picked up a piece and placed it in my mouth to bite a
bit off, but hesitated, rolling my tongue over the tip. I wanted to
suck on it, but something in me told me not to do that in public. I
wasn't sure why. Then I came out of my fog, and quickly bit a piece
off, feeling horribly self-conscious. STOP IT! I shouted at myself
internally.
My friend didn't notice at all. He made light chatter about being
glad I was OK, and asking how I was adapting to getting back into
the grind of things, but seemed guarded and fidgety. We ordered our
meals, and once the waitress took our menus and left, he leaned in
close over the table:
"Listen. I want to... I want to talk to you about something. It
might make you feel a little awkward." I was fantasizing about
opening up the bulge in his pants, and barely paying attention. I
nodded politely. "OK. Thank you. I... you going missing like this,
it made me realize how fragile our lives are. How one minute you can
think everything's great, and the next minute you're lost in the
woods... or worse. You could have died! When I heard you were back I
was so relieved. Everyone was assuming the worst after a month."
He took my hand in his. That sent a little thrill through me, but I
tried to ignore it and keep a flat, unemotional face, looking him in
the eye politely as I nodded. "Listen. You're probably the closest
friend I have in this city. I know we're mostly just business
friends, but we've had some great drinks together and some fun times
out fishing and, anyway..." He looked down, as if this was difficult
for him. "OK. I'm gay. There. No one else in the city knows. Only my
friends back home."
"In the state you used to live?" I asked, not very interested in
what he was saying but trying to pretend. Images of his penis in my
mouth were making me feel intoxicated. Wait. He was gay? God damn
it. That ruined that idea.
"Yes," he said, smiling. "I'm so glad you're... thank you for being
so good about this. Like I said, when you... when you disappeared, I
realized I could be dead at any moment. Why live my life in fear,
lurking from one shadow to the next to avoid someone's disapproval?
You know? Jobs, comforts... they're not really worth anything if
it's all fake..."
He kept rambling. I wanted him to shut up, so I could think.
Thinking was really hard for me suddenly. Everything felt cloudy.
But there was a thought in my brain, an important thought. What was
it? Wait... it was coming... I tuned him out completely. Then my
eyes lit up. Oh! Oh, of course! I looked like a guy right now! Duh!
So if he was gay, then that awesome bulge -
I grabbed his wrist like a striking snake. He looked up, startled.
"Come here." I said, dragging him up from the table. He looked
bewildered, but followed. I rushed us out of the restaurant. I heard
him ask something about the bill, the meal, but I just kept dragging
him.
Then we were outside on the street. "Where do you live?" I asked
him.
He looked perplexed, again. "You've been to my apartment before...
I'm over on..." I tuned him out again. The location he gave was way,
way closer than my condo. That meant faster. I flagged a cab down,
and told the driver to take us to my friend's apartment.
When we got to his front door, he tried to stop me and ask what was
going on. I silenced him: "Open the door. Please." He did, but his
patience was running out, I could tell. I think he knew something
was up, though, and was going along for another reason.
I proved his hopes correct. As soon as the door closed I tugged his
pants down in one smooth, graceful motion. My eyes bulged. "Even
better!" I gasped, now that I was facing the bulge through a thin
layer of fabric. My breath trembled. It was so close. I looked up at
him. He seemed overjoyed.
"You - you too? I didn't know! Oh my... I mean... yes, go ahead..."
he said, utterly shocked and overwhelmed.
I wasn't really asking for permission, but whatever. I tugged his
manties down enough to let his semi-flaccid cock spring loose. Then
I got to work, and it was erect very quickly. Everything I had
learned while serving Hunny-Bear came flooding back instantly, and I
crawled my lips up and down his cock with expert skill. It was
annoying that they were so much thinner, since it made cushioning
his penis from my teeth a little harder, but I managed. A stellar
blowjob was delivered. I felt his balls, currently dancing atop my
fingertips, tense a bit. He started to pull back.
I grabbed his thighs firmly with one arm. "Uh-uh." I awkwardly
spoke, without looking up. You could almost hear him grin. Then the
flood of cum came, and -
And -
And it tasted like shit! What the fuck? I almost gagged, but
stubbornly persevered, the perfectionist in me insisting I go
through with what I started. But it tasted horrible. Acrid. Nasty.
Like spittle with battery acid and locker-room sweat mixed into it.
A foul musk coated my tongue, my teeth, the roof of my mouth, and
crawled down my throat like a rotting slug. It tasted familiar, but
twisted, and wrong. What the fuck was wrong with his cum? What was
in this stuff?
Finally, after what felt like years, he stopped pumping. I pulled
away and saw him smiling down at me, excited. I lurched away,
feeling nauseous, and made my way to the nearby kitchen table of his
apartment, sitting down shakily. He pulled his pants up and sat
across from me.
"Are you OK?" he asked.
I didn't reply.
"Was that... I mean have you had a same-sex encounter before?" he
pressed, trying to be diplomatic.
I didn't reply.
He gave up, confused. We sat in silence for a while.
I felt terrified. Because, despite how gross that was, the second he
had stopped pumping... I wanted to do it again. I looked at his cock
as I was pulling away and felt an overpowering need to get it right
back in my mouth. But I resisted, and focused on my nausea instead,
which is how I made it to the table.
I still wanted to drop to my hands and knees, crawl under the table,
and suck him off again. I stopped myself by thinking about the foul
taste, over and over again. What had gone wrong? Why had it been so
good with... with...
With Hunny-Bear? It was real, wasn't it? It had actually happened? I
gave up on resisting. The blank spots in my mind were occurring with
increasing frequency, the periods of time where I'd find myself
losing concentration, feeling stupid, losing control. I had been
resisting them all day long, but now I gave up. I needed...
something... too badly. I had thought it was a cock, a cock in my
mouth, when I raced us out of the restaurant... but now I just felt
aimless and confused.
As we continued to sit in stilted silence, I began absent-mindedly
picking through the things on his kitchen table. A memo pad, with a
shopping list scrawled on it. A pen. A salt shaker. A pepper shaker.
One of those cloying little plastic bear-shaped bottles of honey
that you always see in supermarkets. A coffee cup -
Wait.
Wait!
I grabbed the honey bear again, rolling it around in my hands. Honey
bear. Hunny-Bear. That was it! That was the sweet, delicious flavor
Hunny-Bear had! He tasted like my friend's semen, if it were mixed
with delicious honey! I knew it. I knew that's what I needed. I
needed Hunny-Bear's cum again. But Hunny-Bear was dead. Did that
upset me? Before I had been happy, now I felt kind of... sad. But
still, he was dead, so he couldn't help me right now.
I slid off my chair.
"Are you OK?" asked my friend, totally bewildered once more.
"Yes," I replied cheerily, "I'm fine, now."
I crawled on my hands and knees under the table. He didn't argue as
I undid his fly again and peeled his trousers away. My blowjob was
even better this time. I was a little rusty a few minutes ago, but
now I felt myself getting back to proper cocksucking form. Despite
having come recently, my skillful licks, sucks, swallows, and pecks
were enough to get him ready to go all over again in a few short
minutes.
"Wait." I commanded, pinching the base of his penis with stern
authority. He chuckled playfully. "Give me that honey bear." I
ordered. He seemed about to question me, but I gave his cockhead a
few expert flicks of my tongue and a plastic honey bear was shortly
handed to me under the table.
I twisted the top open and poured a huge stream of honey into my
mouth, letting it coat all over everything and then sit there in a
big pool of sweetness. Then I let go of his penis and dove back
down, careful to keep most of the honey inside my mouth. A few
seconds later his bronco was bucking like wild, and this time -
This time it was delicious! The semen hit the honey in my mouth and
the two flavors mixed exquisitely. Gloriously. It was... oh, that
feeling, that euphoric rush! It was like being a junkie. I giggled.
I liked that. I was getting my honey-cum hit. It wasn't the same as
Hunny-Bear's gooey, delicious cum - his hunny, I giggled - but it
was close. It was almost as good. It made me feel satisfied in that
way I needed, a way that boring normal semen couldn't cut it.
Well, that did it. My friend and I spent the next several hours
fooling around, until he was so tired that he collapsed and I simply
couldn't rouse him or his cock to any more activity. It was for the
best, anyway, since he was out of honey. And I wasn't gonna swallow
any cum without honey to wash it down. "Thanks, baby," I whispered
sweetly in my nasty man-voice, kissing him on the head. Both of
them. Then I swaggered out of his bedroom and into his bathroom to
clean up a little before heading down to the street.
As soon as I looked in the mirror, the reality of it all came
flooding into me. Oh my fucking god! What had I just done? As if
fleeing from my rage, the fog in my mind cleared away. Again, I had
lapsed today. Had that really happened? I looked at the honey bear
in my hand and screamed, throwing it away from me. It clattered
around inside the shower. I put my face in my hands, and then tried
splashing cold water on myself. This was not happening. I did not
just suck my friend off. Over and over again. While guzzling honey.
But why not? It felt so good, it tasted so good... it was just so
good! I shrugged. And I needed it, anyway. I wasn't itching any
more. I had been trying to ignore it all day long, but I was itching
and I knew it. And I knew what itching meant. Being itchy meant you
need cum. That's how I scratched my itches, I giggled. By sucking
cock.
I snapped back. No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO! I made a
concerted effort to concentrate. Think about work, I told myself.
You still haven't eaten lunch - I grimaced at the reason - and you
have tons of work to do -
Fuck work! Fuck lunch! In fact, I giggled uproariously, I did fuck
lunch! The guy I fucked was my lunch! I patted my tummy, thinking of
all the cum and honey stored inside. I giggled again.
NO! With immense concentration, I managed to keep my mind on-topic.
OK. I wasn't imagining this. This was really happening. I needed
help. But what I had encountered - no one would believe me. No
doctor would help me, even if they could. I didn't have time to
convince anyone, I needed this cured now. Now!
OK. This seemed... this seemed almost magical. Magic was an
illusion, though. Right? Who cares, it was real enough to me right
now. I tore through the apartment until I found his phone book.
O...O...O... Occult. Good. It worked. Here was a listing of those
ridiculous shops you always pass and never go in to. And one was
right down the block from his apartment complex. Yes. Good.
Excellent. My mind was racing wildly, desperate to keep myself
together long enough to get help. Maybe I was possessed. Maybe they
could help me.
As I turned to leave, I noticed that the itching was gone, but my
chest had still felt sore, especially when my shirt shifted. No. No
way. With dread, I walked back to the bathroom and lifted my shirt
up.
Yes. Yes, there they were, big puffy girl nipples. They erected and
plumped out in the cool air of the bathroom. No breast around them
that I could tell. Just big nipples with big areola. I was
mortified. I dropped my shirt. No time to think about this right
now. I ignored my slightly longer hair and its faded color. I
ignored that my face looked a little different; I didn't stop to
observe the details, I didn't want to. I just wanted this fixed. It
was taking all my energy just to keep focused and not fog out again.
My walk felt slightly different, like my butt was moving a little
more and my hips were more noticeable.
No. No, no, no. It's not there. Ignore it. It'll get better, if you
can just make it to the specialist...
- XXXIV -
AS I opened the door to leave my friend's apartment, the door of the
apartment across from me opened. My heart sank. It was a guy. He
looked at me and smiled. I knew that smile: that's the smile I gave
dykes when I passed them. The, "oh, you're a girl, so I'm obligated
to be nice, but you're not a very pretty one, so here's a smile
that's kind of sympathetic and distant", smile.
So I looked enough like a girl, suddenly, to pass for a really butch
lesbian. How? How did that happen? I had been itching, I had sucked
-
Cock. Cum. Swallowing cum must trigger the transformation, I
realized with dread. I turned back to myself in the absence of
Hunny-Bear's hunny. Of course, I'd turn the other way once I got cum
again. I should avoid swallowing it at all costs, then. Which
normally wouldn't have been any problem at all for me. Except...
except I needed it. It was overpowering. It had been crawling back
into my mind ever since my blowjob on Hunny-Bear got interrupted by
a rifle shot. Slowly. Insidiously. Unnoticeably. But as I thought
back, it had been there. Growing. Like my brain was melting, giving
way to urges and needs I'd never had before. Or never thought I'd
had before - I felt like I didn't know anything any more. It was all
too blurry, too foggy, too confusing. I thought I knew who I was - I
was pretty sure - yes, when I concentrated, I knew - and I just
needed to survive long enough to preserve that.
"Hello," said the 30-something male neighbor politely.
"Hi," I breathed. Resist. Resist. Resist. "Are you single?" I
blurted out. Oh, god.
He grinned big. The, "oh, you're ugly but you're not a lesbian -
this could be useful since you must have low self-esteem", smile.
Resist. NO! Resist. NO! Resist. I battered my mind with desperate
commands.
"Do you have any honey?" I smiled with a wicked grin.
Fifteen minutes later I was rushing down the stairs of the apartment
complex. Fewer people took the stairs. Fewer people meant less
chance I'd lose control and suck more cock.
My boobs bounced. Yes, now they bounced again. They had swollen to
B-cups after I sucked my last target off three times in a row,
before he apologetically told me he was too tired to keep going. I
still had his plastic bee-hive, halfway full of honey, tucked inside
my jacket. He had gladly given it to me as a parting gift in
exchange for the delights I had bestowed upon him. I think he was
too tired to notice I suddenly had chin-length blonde hair, a pretty
little face, a smaller body... you know the drill.
I didn't want the honey, not right then. Just like I didn't just
want cum. I only wanted them together. Honey-cum. Almost hunny.
Almost like what Hunny-Bear gave me. His medicine. His glorious
medicine.
I reached the bottom of the stairs. There was blue tape along the
banister rail and the bottom of the wall. And... no! No, no, no, no,
no!
And two men re-painting the walls of the stairwell entry alcove.
Resistance was futile. I strolled up to them and made blatantly
pointless small talk as I wedged one of the longer paint-rollers
into the handles of the doors that lead in from the street, blocking
them from being opened from the outside. The two men almost began to
protest, until I dropped my man-jacket and pulled my oversized shirt
off. Then they fell silent.
"Hi boys," I said crisply, holding up my new bottle of honey. "I'm
going to suck both of your cocks off as hard and as much as you can
handle - for free - if you'll just pour some honey in my mouth
before you cum each time."
They couldn't even blink.
"Oh, and of course, I swallow." I grinned. They still weren't
moving. "I'm clean, boys. It's a hormonal disorder. Makes me
constantly horny. Doctor hasn't worked out the right doses yet, so I
kind of need to feel fucked pretty often right now. So do I need to
show you my medical file, or are you going to help me out?"
They looked at each other, probably decided they didn't care if this
crazy slut was lying or not, and removed their cocks. My eyes bulged
like a kid with presents, and I leaped forward and dropped to my
knees.
I sucked one off expertly while rubbing up the other cock so it
would be ready for me. Each time, they would, to their credit, do
exactly as I asked - tip my head back and pour honey into my mouth -
and then shove - which I loved - my face back onto their cock before
coming into me. And I would swallow joyously. Then I'd switch to the
other cock merrily.
What was odd was that I couldn't get enough. With Hunny-Bear, a
feeling of satisfied euphoria would wash over me whenever I was done
swallowing his hunny. And then I'd be sated for hours, and free of
my obsessive need, and could cuddle or do chores or whatever.
But every time these men came, I would swallow, feel satisfied for a
few seconds... and then instantly need more, just as bad as last
time. In fact, it almost felt like it was getting worse each time.
When I had dragged my friend to his apartment, the urge had been
profound but managable. Now it was beginning to overtake me, to
become my overriding goal instead of a background need. And every
burst of honey-cum I sucked down seemed to make the flames of that
need flare up even hotter and higher. The urge was overwhelming.
Every time their erect cock would pop back up in the corner of my
eye, I was on it like a hungry wolf pouncing on a cylindrical,
fleshy rabbit.
Then they were spent, and my honey was gone anyway. I pouted.
"Sorry, bitch," one of them said boldly, testing the waters. I only
giggled, which seemed to encourage him, "but I'm spent. My cock's
good, and boy do you seem to know that now, but it ain't the
Hercules of dicks. It's gotta rest sometime."
Still on my knees, I looked up eagerly to the other painter. He
shook his head sadly. "No can do, babe. Sorry your cunt's all outta
whack, but I'm about to pass out."
I stood up, causing a stunning amount of wobbling. More wobbling
than I'd ever felt on my chest. I looked down. The men looked down.
My tits were... not B cups any more. If they were C cups now, it was
only just barely. As in, just barely missing the D cup designation.
I stared at them, bewildered. "They're so big!" I gasped, bouncing
them up and down a little with my hands. I giggled at their
wobbling.
"Holy fuck," one of them muttered, "I didn't realize her tits were
that huge." He was frustratedly trying to get it up enough to
masturbate over my big, bare chest. The other stared blankly.
I wanted to know what else had changed. I stripped naked, completely
uncaring - aware, but uncaring - that two horny men were three feet
away. I gasped. It was hard to see around my tits, but my
proportions were even girlier than they had been during my time in
the Forest with Hunny-Bear. My hips seemed huge, extending a
centimeter or two beyond my shoulder width - a total inversion of my
usual male body. Male? Ugh. What a lousy form that was. Wait, was
it? Whatever. Anyway. My thighs felt curvy and thick, but - I
plopped down onto the ground and laid on my back so I could see past
my tits - the rest of my legs were long and sensuous. My feet were
even daintier than before, my hands were much softer, thinner,
tinier. I noticed how big and thick my butt felt and giggled
happily. I sat up, feeling my boobs bounce heavily. Everything about
me seemed so soft, and curvy, and delicate. My hair tickled my
shoulders. My neck felt so thin, and my cunt...
Wait. My pussy? When did that come back? I hadn't even noticed. How
long had I been feeling hot and wet down there? I think since I was
blowing that guy in the other apartment. I sighed at the thought. Of
his cock. Of the two cocks next to me, which were still flaccid from
exhaustion despite a buxom, voluptuous, sopping-horny, naked girl
sitting right in front of them with her legs spread. The two
painters looked agonized that their cocks wouldn't salute. I
giggled, and began gathering up my clothes. Stupid clothes. I hated
clothes. I wanted to run naked again. But clothes were good right
now, 'cause otherwise I might get in trouble and then not have as
much cock available. A fine cock selection was a very good thing.
Soon I was dressed in comically-oversized clothes. I was shorter
too? Wow! "Sorry boys," I sang in a high, smooth, breathy voice that
emitted sex waves in all directions. They looked agonizedly aroused,
and hilariously limp. I glanced down pointedly: "But I need someone
who can take care of me..." I scrunched up my shoulders, closed my
eyes, and purred: "...the way a big girl needs." Then I winked
slowly and enticingly, spent several seconds figuring out how to
dislodge the paint-roller I had blocked the doors with, and walked
away, sashaying my ass for them. I don't know if their brains ever
rebooted from that experience.
- XXXV -
THE cold air of the street snapped me back into reality. Oh, god. Oh
god oh god oh god. I wasn't even trying to deny it was happening any
more. I just tried my best to ignore all the foreign wiggling, and
jiggling, and sashaying, and butt-bouncing. Tried to ignore the
curious looks from passerby about the girl dressed in oversized male
clothes who seemed like she might be really curvy underneath. Forced
my eyes to stay at my feet so I wouldn't notice any cocks and...
and... You know.
After walking a bit I passed a small convenience market on my way
down the street. I stopped, thought about it briefly, then swooped
in, jiggling all the way. I knew what I wanted, but couldn't find
it. The signs on the aisles had words. I knew that. But I was in
such a hurry that reading them was difficult, 'cause all the symbols
clustered together. Gosh, I felt dumb. I giggled. Oh well! I had
wandered to the back of the store, and -
And saw a man. Oh, a sexy man. He looked to be in his mid-twenties,
with a laid-back, college style to his clothing. He had a strong jaw
and pretty eyes, a little 5-o'clock shadow - I liked it on him, but
I was glad my face was smooth again - and a big strong-looking body
that I knew could wrap me all up in its arms and lift me wherever he
wanted to put me... I thought about the little bit of honey I had
accidentally left behind with the painters, and felt a pang of
regret.
"Hi," I chirped in my new, deliciously cute voice.
"Hi," he replied, obviously happy to help.
"Can you show me where the honey is? I can't find it." I pouted.
Twenty minutes later I strolled out of the store's bathroom, leaving
a bewildered, exhausted, and very happy man behind me. My tits were
firmly entrenched in the D cup designation now. Everything else had
expanded proportionately. My hair was down to my shoulder blades,
prevented from tickling me by the big jacket I was wearing. I
strolled and bounced over to the counter, already needing more cock,
glad my thighs were hidden by the oversized pants because my pussy
was drooling like crazy. The pants only stayed on because of my
giant hips, and I was afraid they might get too big soon. I tried to
think of that as a "possibility", but I knew it was really an
"inevitability". Actually, I didn't. Those words were beyond my
foggy brain. I knew what I was trying to say, I just couldn't put it
that smart.
The cashier rang up my 6 bottles of honey and asked me if I wanted
paper or plastic. I almost blurted out "latex", but caught myself.
Plastic. Easier to carry. Then he asked for the total. It was really
hard to keep from climbing over the counter and blowing him,
especially with all that honey right next to me, but I somehow kept
myself under control as I rifled through my wallet. God, I wanted a
purse! I hated this thing.
I was getting confused. The numbers were all blurring together and
the math in my head was overwhelming me. I tried switching to my
hands but that was still too confusing. I gave up and handed him the
wallet: "Just take the right number." I said, feeling really dumb.
But he smiled at me, and that made me feel better. I wanted to blow
him sooooo bad then. But some tiny part of me managed to keep
drilling into my brain how much I had to get down the street and
visit the occult shop. He handed me the wallet back, looking kind of
sympathetic, and I leaned over and kissed him on the mouth.
"Wow, thanks," he grinned. "Enjoy your, uhm, honey."
"Oh, I will!" I giggled happily, and winked at him. His imagination
went to work and he looked a little aroused as I sashayed out, butt
swinging even more than when I had come in.
I was really good. I was really, really good as I walked down the
street. I kept my eyes straight down my shirt, mesmerized by the
bouncing of my cleavage. They were so big! How could anyone have
boobs this big? I thought I had big tits when I had B cups for a
month, but those were bon-bons compared to these coconuts! I loved
them! I gave my tits a big hug, making my huge fat nipples harden up
and poke through my shirt. Good thing for the jacket.
Why? If men saw my hard nipples they'd know I was aroused. That was
a good thing 'cause then they'd fuck me. No! No, this wasn't me! It
was my... my curse, or whatever! A part of my rational brain had
rebelled back into control long enough to keep my eyes directed to
my undulating boobies, so I would avoid seeing any men's crotches.
My shopping bag full of honey bottles swung ominously by my side.
I started casting sidelong glances at the shops I was passing. No...
no... ooh. A really shiny window. I stopped to stare. Even through
the clothing, I was obviously a vixen. I had to be down to 5'4"
tall, my clothes draping over me absurdly. My ultra-wide hips
outspanned my shoulders like a fertility goddess and my face had
gone from the gentle, average femininity I remembered from my time
in the Oak-House to absolutely gorgeous structure and grace. My
huge, almost-past-DD boobs bulged the shirt and jacket out
blatantly, especially on my tinier frame. My long hair was blonde
and pretty and framed my face cutely. Even with the oversized
clothes, I looked so hot. I'd look even better without them. No.
Don't, I tried to tell myself, but felt my hands reaching for the
jacket...
"Excuse me, but may I ask what you're looking at?" came a deep, male
voice, startling me and flooding me with excitement.
"Oh," I said, in a high but utterly seductive voice, "Just...
what's, you know, in the window." I didn't want to sound vain!
"Mattresses?" he asked, bewildered.
Indeed. Behind my reflection were two mattresses. I looked up. It
was, indeed, a mattress store. The reflection of me and the man next
to me made it look like we were bothing lying on one of the
mattresses. That thrilled me. His hair was graying, but he was still
really hot... one of those men who stays rock-solid gorgeous as they
age. Maybe late 40s? He was hot.
"May I ask what a beautiful young woman like you is doing staring at
mattresses through a store window?" he inquired, smiling.
I couldn't resist. I lost control. "Maybe she's hoping a hunk like
you will pin her to one of them."
His face lit up like Times Square on December 31st, and he replied,
to my delight: "Well, that's convenient, since this hunk owns this
store. Want to pick one out?"
I certainly did! Soon he had locked up the store and brought metal
curtains down over the windows and door. That seemed odd,
considering this was a pretty low-crime area of the city and few
stores had bars or curtains down, even when they were closed. Then
he "helped" me out of my jacket. I shivered sexually. He was being
so aggressive, and I loved it. I loved that a few words were all I
needed to speak, and he'd do all the rest.
Soon we were naked - it was fun undressing a man for the first time
- and he looked down (yay!) at me: "Like I said," he gestured to the
rest of the store, "pick a mattress, babe." He grinned.
It was a cute gesture, but honestly, at that point I didn't give a
flying crap what mattress we were on as long as I got to suck him
off. To humour him, I did one quick circuit around the store and
then stopped in front of a fluffy, pinkish one. I liked pink. Didn't
I? I thought so. "This one." I said. He smiled and strolled over,
cock swinging like a heavenly pendulum. I stared at it and sighed.
"That was quick. I love a decisive lady." he smiled.
"One more thing." I placed my tiny hand against his chest. "Before
you come, pour this honey into my mouth."
His face lit up again. "Wow, you're really fucking kinky. I love
it." I grinned and sat down on the mattress, beginning to massage
his penis. He let out a happy, rattling sigh, began rubbing the top
of my head, and ... well, either I bent down to suck up his cock, or
he pushed me down. We were both going for the same idea at the same
time, and I'm not sure who controlled it more.
After several minutes of my fantasy blowjob, he gripped my head,
pulled back - easily, since I always kept my big fat lips wrapped
over my teeth - and picked up one of the honey bottles. "Open wide,
baby," he enthused, really getting into it. I squealed happily and,
well, opened very wide. He poured honey into me, grunting, like he
was fantasizing that the bottle was his cock. Was it like he got to
cum in me twice? How hot.
Then he laughed, saying: "Open wide, baby... again."
"I'm already open wide!" I exclaimed around all the honey in my
mouth, then doved back onto his cock to prove it.
He chortled again, gripping the back of my head tightly: "Man, you
are one awesome bitch." I smirked as best I could with his cock
jammed into my mouth, and then felt the release begin. The heavenly
euphoria zapped through me as I got my hit. Then, as always, it died
away immediately and I was disappointed and hungry for more.
I looked at his cock. It was so small compared to Hunny-Bear's. I
felt spoiled. I mean, it was a fair 7 inches erect and pretty thick,
but it just couldn't compare to how full and gorgeous Hunny-Bear's
shaft made me feel. It didn't matter, though. I already needed it
again, and looked up at him eagerly: "Again?" I asked.
He laughed loudly. "Holy christ, I love you. Not yet, sweety. Mr.
Johnson isn't in quite the same shape he used to be."
"When you were 20?" I asked randomly.
He laughed more. "Yeah, that's for sure. Gimme a few minutes at
least. In the mean time, lemme return the favor." Then I startled as
he bent down and started tonguing my naked vulva. That was weird. I
hadn't... it had never occurred to me to have anything sexual done
to my female body strictly for the sake of pleasure. What was the
point? Without a hit of honey-cum it felt like a waste of time. I
started thinking about the occult store that had to be very close
now. He looked up at me: "You don't like being eaten out?"
I looked down. I shrugged, feeling honest: "I like blowjobs."
He laughed. "Wow. All give and no take, huh? Wanna get married?"
I shook my head. "I don't think so. You'd probably get jealous
pretty fast. I don't control myself very well."
He laughed, as usual. I seemed to amuse him quite a bit. "God,
you're awesome. You ever done movies?"
I stared blankly at him. "I'm not an actress." I said.
He laughed. Of course. "I meant pornos."
My eyes opened wide. Oh! Wow. So that's he was asking. I guess I
should have known. I felt kind of dumb right then. And... for a
while before that. Anyway. "Like, get fucked on camera?" I asked
meekly.
He smiled. "Sure, if you're willing. But you could just lay back and
rub those tits and you'd have a load of cash handed to you. I mean,
obviously, you know how hot you are, right?"
I flushed. He thought I was that hot, huh? That turned me on. "I
guess," I said honestly, "I didn't really think about it that way."
He took my hand and tugged me to my feet, then slid it onto my butt.
I liked that. It made me feel... girly, and owned, in a good way. I
snuggled into his naked body. "Get dressed, and follow me." I
nodded, and tugged my loose-fitting clothes on. He stared at me.
"You know, never mind." I shrugged and dropped them back to the
floor. "I gotta ask - why is a hot babe like you wearing cheap-ass,
oversized men's clothes?"
I blinked. How to explain? I didn't feel like figuring out a good
story, so I just shrugged. He laughed as he finished dressing. I
pouted, staring at his reenclosed cock as if I had been betrayed. He
laughed again. "Oh geez, you're unstoppable. I need to mention again
that I love you. Anwyay, don't worry, you'll get more of it." I
smiled. "And we're gonna get you some better clothing." My face lit
up.
He led me to the back of the store, behind the business counter, and
opened a door. And suddenly I was in ... a big studio, currently
done up to look like a classy living room. I blinked. "You film back
here?" He grinned at me, and the connection was finally made. "Oh!"
I said excitedly, half at just being able to figure this out on my
own, "You make porn here!" The fact I seemed so peppy made him
visibly relax a bit.
"Yes we do. The mattress store is just a front so we can operate
with some tax advantages on the rent and so forth. Don't tell
anyone, OK?" he asked me.
I held my finger up to my lips and made a 'shhhh' sound. Then I
couldn't resist and began tonguing the finger before sticking it
into my mouth and sucking sensually. I grinned as I was rewarded
with an obvious tent in his trousers.
"Hey guys! Lunch break's over, and look what I found!" Three more
men strolled out, along with a girl who could be considered red-hot
if I wasn't in the room, naked, to ruin it.
"Hey," said one of the men before noticing me, "Katherine just
showed up a few minutes ago, and - " he stopped. "Holy fucking god,
who the hell are you?" It was all said very admiringly. I blushed.
Katherine frowned at me cattily.
"Yeah, who's she? I thought I was filming today." she asked the man
who had brought me here.
"Change of plans. Rick, take Katherine to studio B and do a
photoshoot instead. Jim, film it too so we can post it as some
lameass 'behind the scenes' footage. The idiots seem to eat that up
for some reason." Rick and Jim nodded smartly, taking lingering
glances of me as they dragged themselves out of the room. Katherine
strutted after them, shooting daggers at me over her shoulder. I
stuck my tongue out at her.
"OK, Scott, this girl - " he stopped. "What the hell's your name
anyway, babe?" He laughed. "I can't believe you never even told me
your name before sucking my cock."
Scott's eyes bugged out. Something told me I should feel
embarrassed, but instead I felt... I dunno... proud. "Yep," I
confirmed. Scott's pants tented, to my delight.
Then I realized the two men were staring at me. "Well?" said the
older guy I had just blown. "We gotta call you something, honey!" He
chuckled, and turned to Scott. "She made me pour honey into her
mouth before I came. She's fucking crazy in the best way."
Scott looked like he was going to cry from pent-up sexual longing.
He smiled crookedly, shifted his expensive-looking camera awkwardly,
and whispered "That's pretty damn hot."
"How about Honey-Bunny? Huh? You can do that trick of yours on-
camera and it'll give us a unique spin for you. Maybe we can even
make a whole website, hey? Honeybunny.com - she's sweet enough on
her own, but adds honey to make it sweeter! Well, something better
than that. Jim's the idea man when it comes to the marketing shit.
But, yeah. What do you say?" He stared at me eagerly, as did Scott.
A fogginess floated around my mind, tempting me with something. A
name. I had a name, once. Now I was just... me. Sometimes I got
called bitch, or babe. Wasn't that enough? Uhm. The two men kept
staring at me. I was starting to feel dumb, and embarrassed. Then it
came to me. It slowly drifted off my lips as the words wafted
through the fog in my mind: "Bussie... Bopper?"
"Bussie Bopper? The fuck kind of name is that?" asked the man.
"Dude, it's obviously a stage name." supplied Scott. "Why can't I
remember seeing you before?" he asked me.
"Yeah, yeah," said the man, "Yeah, OK. Bussie Bopper. Kind of has
this... way-retro, like, 50s soc-hop charm to it, you know? Where's
Alyssa, can we style her hair like the 50s? Like, you know... a
beehive maybe." He laughed. "Yeah, a beehive and she likes to suck
honey with her cocks! Or maybe something easier to do on short
notice. I dunno. Whatever. Babe, I love you, whatever you wanna do."
I smiled. I shrugged. I think I was too dumb to know how to lie
anymore. "I wanna suck both your cocks at once."
They looked at each other. "OK." they said in unison.
"Go get Alyssa," he told Scott, "tell her she's on film duty today.
If Bussie wants to get double-teamed, I sure as hell ain't gonna
tell her otherwise." I smiled at the name "Bussie". It brought back
warm memories. I thought about how Hunny-Bear was dead, and felt
sad. But then the two men were naked in front of me, and my mind
kind of blanked out.
Alyssa strolled in, a strangely plain-looking mid-30s woman who
looked like she could be filing your mortgage. Instead she was
putting make-up on a porn star and doing my hair. Make-up? Wow.
Aside from painting my nails at the Oak-House, I'd never worn make-
up before. When she held up a mirror, I looked so fucking hot I
squealed.
Then came wardrobe. Oh my. It was so fun. She let me try on tons of
slutty little outfits until I settled on one I loved: a tight, sexy,
neon pink halter top and a black pleated miniskirt that didn't even
hit mid-thigh. By big butt peeked out the bottom of it. I didn't
have a bra, which was good 'cause I loved the way my big fat nipples
tented out my top when I got horny, which was always. And why would
a slut like me want panties? They'd just get in the way if I ever
felt like masturbating, and I was getting so horny all the time that
I almost needed to. Sucking cocks alone wasn't getting me off often
enough anymore. 6-inch shiny black heels with crazy straps going up
to my knee completed the look. "How do you like it?" asked Alyssa,
as I stood in front of a full-length mirror.
"I love it!" I shrieked, hugging her. "You made me look awesome!"
She smiled. "You're very, very pretty already." She seemed kind of
forlorn, like she wanted to finish with, "too bad you're wasting
your time being a whore". Maybe not, though. Maybe she was just sad
she couldn't be in my position. I wanted to make her feel better,
since she made me so pretty:
"You're pretty too though. Want to join in?" I asked innocently.
She laughed. The men laughed. "I'm afraid I don't get involved in
the on-camera action, honey," she smiled, seemingly flattered.
"Any time you want, Ally!" called the man who had brought me here.
Everyone was in such a good mood. All 'cause of me! "Oh Ally, you
know to keep my face out of the frame, right?" he added, motioning
around his neck. Allysa nodded.
Then Allysa took control of the expensive-looking camera and ... and
then things get kind of blurry. I know I sucked a lot of cock. From
both men. And of course, washed each load down with honey. Over and
over again 'till they couldn't move any more.
The older man groaned weakly, "Good lord. Did you get all that,
Allysa?"
"Oh yes indeed. Good stuff." she replied, with a thumbs-up. Then she
started reviewing the footage, and looked back and forth at my
panting, naked, sweaty body several times. "Did her... breasts get
bigger?" The men propped themselves up with effort, then looked at
each other and Alyssa with disbelief.
"How'd you do that, Bussie?" asked the man.
I wasn't listening. I had been sitting there for several minutes
since we finished, thinking about one thing. About how I couldn't
believe it: every time I got a hit of honey-cum, I just wanted it
even worse! It was getting crazy now, after I sucked so much cum on-
camera just then. "More!" I yelled uncontrollably, "I saw two more
boys in here, get me their cocks, please!"
The man laughed despite his exhaustion. "Holy shit, this girl... you
heard her... get Rick and Jim in here, and forget about how she does
her boobs...just keep her doing it..." He flopped over.
Things get blurry again right around there. I kind of went into a
frenzy. Mid-way through exhausting the new boys, Scott recovered
enough to start in on me again. Then things got really out of hand,
and for a while I was being fucked in all three holes, honey
dripping off me everywhere. I really didn't care about being fucked
anywhere but my mouth, 'cause my ass and my pussy didn't give me a
hit. But whatever, it made the boys happy and I liked that. Alyssa
was astonishingly placid the whole time, merrily filming away as she
rushed around to get different angles and shots.
Then all four men were drained and lying in various spots around the
living-room set, all too delirious to move. I looked around like a
conqueror who had just razed a village and had nothing left to burn
down. Then I shrugged, smiled at Alyssa, and got dressed in my new
sexy outfit. Or tried.
"It doesn't fit," I said, dumb and confused, as I tried to get my
pink halter past my boobies. They were big now. Like, really big.
They hung down past the bottom of my ribs. Being accurate, they were
up to F cups now. As proportionally crazy as that was on my now 5
foot frame, my hips, ass, thighs ... everything... had followed
along. I felt hair brushing the small of my back. I felt stupid. I
felt horny. I needed more honey-cum.
Alyssa blinked at me. "You're leaving?" she asked.
I nodded.
She smiled. "We need to get your information taken down first,
honey. So we can pay you?" she added, when I looked blank.
"Oh," I replied, then shrugged: "Whatever. You paid me enough
already." I picked up my shopping bag full of honey as her
bewildered expression followed me out of the room. I called over my
shoulder: "Sorry boys, but I've gotta get going. You're all really
fun, but I just can't work with sleepy cocks!" And I strolled back
out of the studio, through the closed store, lifted the metal
curtain over the door, undid the internal lock, and prepared to walk
outside.
Totally naked.
Alyssa ran after me: "Wait! Your clothes! I'll get you bigger ones -
"
I giggled loudly. "Clothes suck." I said, then felt warmth flow over
me at the mention of the word "suck". I started sucking my finger.
Alyssa stared at me, shocked into inaction as I disappeared out the
front door of the mattress store.
- XXXVI -
BEING naked felt awesome. I had wanted to be naked again so bad ever
since I got back into sucking cock, but I had been afraid of getting
in trouble. Now I was too dumb - or maybe just honey-cum obsessed -
to care. Everything was bouncy, too. My boobs were really firm and
healthy, but bouncy. My butt was bouncy. And my hips wiggled a lot
and I couldn't help it, and it made my butt even bouncier. And my
boobs, too, 'cause I walked all different, all sexy and girly. I
loved it. I loved being a naked, bouncy... slut? Did I like being a
slut? I thought I was just addicted to honey-cum. I was. But the
boys in the studio had shown me that getting all my holes filled was
fun too, and that felt slutty just for the sake of slut. Which made
me feel hot. I liked the word slut. I kept saying it in my mind over
and over again, and started masturbating.
But I knew I still needed to go to the occult store. I wasn't sure
why. I just... I just did, 'cause I had said so a lot of times. And
I should trust myself when I say anything a lot, I thought, 'cause
I'm so dumb that I almost never remember anything long enough to
repeat it. I giggled. Even if that wasn't true, it sounded hot.
People on the street were gasping at me, and whispering. Someone
said something about this being an "advertising stunt". Other people
were calling the police, they announced loudly in my direction.
Whatever. Policemen had cocks and that sounded tasty.
And then... and then I was there. The occult shop. I knew 'cause I
had somehow memorized the address. And then I saw the word. It was
hard to read but I recognized it: OCCULT. There were other words,
but they weren't familiar to me. At least, not anymore. I stood in
front of the reflection of the glass door, masturbating with one
hand and tugging vigorously on a huge fat nipple with the other,
getting off on how I looked like a giant fucked-up fertility goddess
given form. Actually I think my exact thought was more, "I look like
a big... baby-making... magic... slut... thing... I'm a baby-making
magic slut?"
Anyway, somehow I broke my trance enough to pick up my bag of honey
bottles, walk up to the door, spend several seconds figuring out
which side to push on, and walk in, triggering a jingling of bells.
"Just like Moo-Girl!" I said, listening to the tinkling. I missed
Moo-Girl and her sexy tits. I had sexy tits too. I rubbed them in
celebration.
"May I help you?" asked a middle-aged woman behind the counter, with
frizzy gray hair done up with lots of ribbons and long, pointy
glasses. She didn't even blink at my oversexed, masturbating form.
"Uh," I replied, trying very hard to clear the fog and do this one
thing I was supposed to. It worked surprisingly well, for a few
minutes anyway. "I, uhm... OK. Can you tell me about magical
creatures?" Wow! I was using such big words! I didn't think I had
them in me! "Not... made-up ones, but like... real ones. I ran into
one. And now I need help."
The woman just nodded, as if I was asking her where the creamed corn
was located. "I can't, but she can." She pointed to another part of
the store, where a teenaged girl with jet black hair and big, dark
eyes was stocking scrolls or something. She had her hair tied up
with clips, pins, and bands in a crazy variety of loops, swirls,
tails, and swoops. It must have taken her hours to style it like
that. I felt so jealous of how awesome it looked. "Crystal!" called
the woman.
The girl turned, and saw me. She had dark eyeliner and shadow on
that was surprisingly tasteful for a teenager, and a plethora of
silver earrings looping in and out of each ear, in addition to a
nose ring and a labret stud. Her thin eyebrows furrowed and her big,
dark eyes opened wide against her pale skin in surprise. Though
almost entirely black, her irises had a thin ring of extremely
crisp, icy blue encircling each pupil. This all contrasted amusingly
with her dull black apron over a white T-shirt and black jeans.
"Uhm." she began, then called, "Yeah, Frannie?"
"This young woman needs help with a magical creature she claims is
real." said Frannie without flinching.
"Oh!" said Crystal, excited, who strolled over to me. "So you're
cursed or something?"
I nodded. That sounded like something I had said about myself, I
thought, maybe.
"OK, let me guess... uhm... succubus. Right? You got on the wrong
side of a succubus?" she said, squinting and looking me up and down.
I couldn't stop masturbating, which she took note of but kept going.
"Uhm... uh... what's a suck..." I shivered. "You..." again. "Bus?"
Not that time. "Look like?"
"Uh," replied Crystal, "I've never really seen one, to be honest.
Reports vary, some - "
"Does it look like a cartoon bear?" I blurted.
She burst out laughing. "No, I don't think so, unless you like to
dress up your stuffed animals."
"Oh, no," I replied, "this bear wasn't stuffed and he made me suck
his cock."
She stared at me. She looked at Frannie. Frannie's face told her I
wasn't a random druggie. She turned back to me. "OK. I have never
heard of crazy cartoon bears that fuck people, and occult creatures
is like, my ultimate specialty. But there's a lot of forms of
certain demons and imps, so I'd start there."
"C'you help me?" I asked, pumping away at my pussy furiously.
"I, uhm... I have to work." Frannie frowned at her, but Crystal
didn't relent. I was creeping her out, I think. I giggled. She
ignored it. "Listen. There's a big library a few blocks from here -
the city library, you know?"
I shrugged.
"I'll give you directions. Do you have a piece of paper?" She didn't
wait for me to reply, answering her own question with another glance
at my nude form. "Sorry. I figured you could hide a sheet or two
under those," she sneered, looking at my gargantuan boobs. I felt
bad for her. Her chest looked really flat.
Frannie frowned again. "Help the poor woman, Crystal. Her aura's
totally fucked over." And then Frannie sent a paper airplane flying
over to us, which Crystal caught and opened, then began scrawling an
address on.
"OK. Go here. And look for this book. Can you read this?" she asked,
apparently a legitimate question given the way I looked.
"The Complete Magical Bestiary of the Hermetic Order of the Golden
Dawn," I read off slowly, sounding out several words incorrectly.
"Yes. That book is the only one of its kind left in the world. It
knows things that other texts have forgotten, because it was
compiled from a great number of books which have since either fallen
into unknown private hands," she glanced at my crotch unavoidably as
she said "private hands", "or were burned or otherwise lost and
destroyed. If your creature exists, and any knowledge of it is
written anywhere in the world that you or I would have any access
to, or be able to read, it's this book. Find it, and you can find
your creature. If you can't, it probably is so rare and unheard of
that you could write your own addendum to the book."
I nodded blankly. Most of her words were going in one ear, and out
the other. "May I place this in your bag?" she asked, gesturing to
my honey-bottle bag. I nodded sweetly. She crouched down, opened the
bag, and - paused, for a moment. "Honey." she said.
"Yes?" I said, then realized she wasn't calling me that, "Oh. Yes."
I said, smiling.
She stared for a few more minutes, licked her lips, then startled,
as if realizing she had fogged out. "Interesting thing to carry
around without anything else."
"Yeah. I like to mix it with..." I stopped myself. Oops! Better not
be too honest. They might get mad at me or something.
"OK," she said, standing up. "You'll never reach the library nude.
You'll get arrested in no time. We've got some oversized shirts
designed for male employees and some tiny pants, will you wear
those?
I frowned. "I hate wearing clothes."
"Do you want to reach the library?" asked Crystal.
"Yes." I moped. Frannie smiled, disappeared into the back, and came
back with an XXL men's shirt. It managed to fit over my tits, even
though it looked comical everywhere else. It even hung over my butt
and crotch. "Can I just wear this?" I asked hopefully.
"Better safe than sorry," insisted Frannie, and slid my tiny legs
into the size 0 women's black pants. They didn't like my hips. "Oh
dear," said Frannie. "Too big at the hips, too small everywhere
else!"
So I was wearing baggy size 2 pants and a big goofy shirt that said
"OCCULT" and a bunch of other stuff I couldn't read anymore. I think
it was the store name and a slogan. Or something. That would make
sense, right? Well, anyway. I felt disappointed being clothed, but
glad I'd be allowed to go to the library now. I clutched my honey-
bottle bag tightly, not wanting to lose the address that was so
important. 'Cause I had to reach the library. I just had to.
I had walked three stores down when I heard someone call out: "Hey!
Hey, stop." I turned, setting my tits swinging. It was Crystal! She
walked up to me, looked over her shoulder, then pulled me to the
side, between two stores. "I had to sneak out the back... Frannie
can't know about this. It's... a long story, but she'd know I lied
to her about something very important."
I stared blankly, wishing Crystal had a cock. "Oh." I said.
"You've had hunny, haven't you?" she asked. She said "hunny", not
"honey", I could tell. There was just... a difference between the
two, even in pronunciation. One sounded lustier.
I stared, open-eyed and open-mouthed. She knew? But she said...
"I know I lied," she explained over my thoughts, "Like I said,
Frannie can't know. It's a long story. Look, I can tell from your
face..." she looked down, "and those tits... that you've had hunny."
"Hunny-Bear gave it to me from his cock." I giggled dreamily,
remembering the good times.
She stared at me. "You've had hunny from the source?" She seemed
shocked, and stumbled. "Th... That's unbelievable, man. That's...
uhm, a dream among us."
"Us?" I asked.
"Occult users." I stared. She tried again, talking with unnatural,
nervous rapidity: "Magic junkies. We're occultists who know how to
use magical substances like drugs to get higher, and in weirder
ways, than any man-made shit can ever get you. But it's dangerous.
You have to know exactly what you're doing. And hunny is some of the
scariest shit you can drip. You don't do that unless you know what
you're doing. Everyone knows that. I know it. I've done it. God,
it's worth it." She grasped her flat chest warmly, as if
remembering.
I stared. "Oh."
"But listen - if you've taken it straight from the source... no one
knows what the source is, not anyone I've ever met... it's some
cartoon bear? That's got to be an illusion. This stuff is nasty,
pure magical garbage that exists to fuck you up until you don't know
your own name. It's awesome. But if you got it straight from the
source... you OD'd, I can tell. That's all I'm saying." she replied,
looking genuinely scared.
I searched my memory with honest effort, then lit up and replied:
"It was 'cause of bussie-boppers."
She blinked. "What the fuck are bussie-boppers?"
"Umm, they were dandelions. I thought. They - " She cut me off.
"Oh fuck. You got blown?" she asked, shocked.
"No, I gave blow - " I tried to say, confused.
"No, no, no. You did blowers. Like 'blow flowers', get it? OK,
forget it. If they looked like dandelions and gave you the worst
allergic reaction of your life - " I nodded enthusiastically. "Oh my
god. Listen - you need help. I can't leave work right now or Frannie
will get suspicious, but you need help. Bad. Trust me."
I was confused. I felt like crying 'cause she was scaring me. Was I
going to die? "Oh." I said.
She started to back away, reluctantly. "I have to get back... or
she'll figure out where I am, and ... it'll be bad. But... come back
to the store, with the library book, OK? Please? This is important.
I ... yeah. I need that book. It's - well - I can cure you if... you
have to bring it back to me. OK? This is really important!"
"OK," I said, honestly, but afraid this might be too much for my
fogged brain to keep track of.
"What will you do?" she called as she walked backwards, fidgeting
anxietally, moving farther and farther away.
"Bring you the library book once I have it." I said.
She nodded brightly. "Good girl!" Then she added, her voice shaking
a little bit, "You promised, remember? You promised!"
I nodded. I promised. OK. I'd remember. Crystal disappeared into a
back alley.
I'd remember to bring her the book. I'd remember to bring her the
book. I'd remember to bring her the book. I flagged down a cab, more
with my boobs than anything. "I need the library." I said.
The cab driver, a boring old man, shrugged. "OK, little lady." he
said, looking away from me as if he's seen everything and I wasn't
anything crazy.
I snuck a hand down my pants and masturbated the whole drive, which
wasn't very long. It helped to take the edge off. The library was
close to the occult store, especially by car, which was good,
because I was squirming like crazy in the back seat and the driver
was getting uncomfortable. We stopped.
"Thank you," I said, smiling.
He held out his hand and locked the doors. "You pay the fare." he
said curtly and impatiently.
"Can I give you a blowjob?" I asked. It wasn't really in response to
his statement, it was just an honest question. I only realized
afterwards he had taken it in exchange for payment, and quite
happily. Well, I was a good cocksucker.
- XXXVII -
I walked out of the side street he had pulled down during our
business, and found myself in front of the majestic and gigantic
City library. Wow. It was really big. I walked up the steps -
bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce - and walked inside -
bounce, bounce. It was even bigger inside! Ahhh! How was I ever
going to find what I needed?
I stood, staring, bewildered, at the vast space and multiple floors
full of rows upon rows of books. I couldn't even read my own T-
shirt, what the heck was I doing in a castle full of whole books? I
felt like crying, I felt so stupid. I was too dumb for this. I was
good at fucking and sucking, not being smart stuff, like reading. I
started crying - softly and quietly, but I couldn't stop myself. I
wanted a cock. Comfort food, you know? I wanted one really bad.
Someone noticed me crying, and came over. It was a pretty, early-30s
woman. Fuck that! I wanted a penis, damn it! "May I help you?" she
asked. I sighed. I needed to be a good girl. I needed to get the
book and bring it back to Crystal. I promised.
"I need a book." I said. "But I don't know where it is."
She laughed. "Well, you've come to the right place. Is that food?"
she asked, pointing to my bag.
"It's honey. Is that food?" I questioned, unsure of definitions
anymore.
She smirked. "No need to get cross. You'll need to store that in one
of the lockers." She pointed to a row of metal boxes with keys
sticking out of them.
"Uhm, can you just keep it for me? I'm really forgetful and I really
need this bag." I pleaded.
She stared at me. I think a gear turned in her head and she realized
this big, ludicrously-shaped girl was developmentally disabled
psychologically as much as she was developmentally enabled
physically, or something. "I'll tell you what. I'll help you find
your book, and won't make you put your bag away if you let me
supervise you while we find it."
I shrugged. That sounded fine. "OK." I said, feeling better. But I
still wanted a cock. Really bad. I needed a hit. I needed a hit,
bad.
"Now, do you know the name of the book?" she asked, in a tone that
made me think she assumed whatever I sent her after was going to
have pop-ups.
I nodded. "Yeah, but I'm too dumb to remember it now." My bluntness
made her laugh nervously. "It's in my bag." I pointed.
She fished around inside, pulling out a piece of paper. She looked
at it, then put it back and pulled out another one. "OK. Wow, what
does someone like you - " she caught herself. "Uhm, let's go to the
computers and find this, OK?"
She helped me enter the information in - irritatingly insisting I do
it so I'd "learn" - screw you, you cockless bat, I thought - and
then made me write down the information on an index card. I scanned
around the room anxiously. The library was empty at this hour on a
weekday, apparently. Some junior high / high school / college-age
girls, obviously doing research, were milling around. Where were the
guys?! I couldn't move five inches without slapping into a cock
earlier - that concept made me feel warm and happy - and now there
were no men anywhere! Argh!!!!!
By now she was leading me by the hand up several floors, each time
involving a lot of steps. Bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce,
bounce. I thought my tits were going to fly off. I liked it.
Finally, we reached the fifth floor and went to a section of dusty
shelves and ornate-looking texts. "Here we are," she said, "Be very
careful. Very careful, please. I will keep your bag for you so
nothing sticky gets on this book, but if you come find me when
you're done I will give it back, of course." She strolled off to go
do work, I guess, taking my bag of honeys with her.
I sat at a reading table with a gargantuan tome in front of me,
forced to sit some distance from the edge due to my tits. Wow, these
things were awkward at this size. They even got in the way of my
eyesight when I tried to look at the book 'cause I was so small. I
gave up on sitting and stood up. That got my boobies out of the way
a little bit and made it easier to see over them. But now my nipples
were brushing the table edge through my shirt fabric, and making me
feel all kinds of turned on.
I glanced around the room desperately. No men! Oh my god! Where the
hell were all the boys in this library? I wanted to scream. I
couldn't masturbate or that lady might yell at me for getting pages
sticky. I sighed, and forced myself to be a good girl and start
flipping through the book. I looked at the cover. The Complete
Magickal Bestiary of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn. There
were lots of weird symbols and stuff I didn't recognize or
understand. And lots of weird-looking animals and stuff, drawn in
funky medieval style. They were etched into the cover. It was really
thick! I sighed and hefted it open, then began carefully perusing
each page.
After 20 seconds I was sick of that. It had tons of really, really
tiny text, used huge words and complicated sentences, and generally
annoyed the living cripes out of me. Where was the fricking
information on Hunny-Bear?! Argh!
I saw the lady in the distance and yelled to her. "Hey! Could you
help me?"
She looked shocked as my voice reverberated off the high ceiling of
the library, cascading through the top floors. She quickly held her
mouth up in a "shush" motion, and I clamped my hands over it. Oops.
I knew I was doing something wrong, but it was hard to remember all
the stupid rules different places had. "What is it?" she hissed,
obviously trying to keep her cool and not yell at the retard.
I almost cried. She saw this, softened up, and smiled. I felt a
little better. "Well," I said, "I need to look up a certain creature
that did this to me, but it's taking too long."
She blinked at me. Now I was a crazy retard. But to her credit she
plowed gamely on: "OK, well let's check the indices. Do you know
what an index is?" I shrugged. She almost placed her head in her
hand, but stopped. "OK. It's a place in the back of a book where
they tell you where to find everything."
"Oh!" I perked up. I used to know that, didn't I? Oh well. I didn't
any more. Well, now I did. Again. Never mind. "How useful." I
marveled, as she flipped the book toward its heavy back pages. She
smiled.
"OK, here we are. This index sorts things by shape. What kind of
shape did your creature have?" She was playing along in a sweet,
soothing tone. I wanted to punch her face off, especially for not
having a cock, which I really needed right now. Still, she was doing
a better job than I had on my own.
"Uhm, it was a bear." I said.
"A bear? OK." She started running her finger through the category
"Shapes of Beasts".
"It was a cartoon bear!" I added, trying to be helpful.
"OK honey," she said distractedly. I sighed and let her do the work,
glancing around the room. Still no men. What. The. Fuck! I leaned
over the railing and tried to peer down at other floors. No men!
None! "Don't fall down!" she murmured. I stuck my tongue out at her
while she wasn't looking. "Don't stick your tongue at helpful
librarians, either." she said, playfully. My eyes went wide and I
behaved.
"Here," she said, pointing to a line, one blob of tiny words among a
bunch of other ones. It said, "Bear-Like Creatures." and had numbers
under it. "These pages have animals shaped like bears. Flip to all
of them. If you don't find your animal, call me again, OK? Quietly!"
"Can't you - " I began.
"No." she said. "You learn to do this yourself, OK?"
It obviously wasn't a question she wanted an answer to. I sighed,
pouting, as she walked off and I began checking boring page after
boring page. I kept periodically scanning the surroundings for men,
shifting anxiously, rubbing my thighs together. I was going crazy
without a cock in me but I had to do this, I had promised Crystal.
At one point I accidentally moved my hand and the index flopped
closed. I shrieked and panicked. How was I going to find it again? I
was afraid of bugging the lady, though, so I sighed and peeled the
book open where I thought I had left off. No, it was the wrong
index. I cautiously moved a few pages ahead and back. No. Oh, no, I
had ruined it! I tried one more page back, and... there! There was
the list of bear numbers! I felt so cool. I had done that all by
myself. I deserved a cock as a reward. To my chagrin, no men
magically appeared. I sighed. My tits lifted and bounced back into
place with my deep breath.
And back I went, trying another page. Bugbear, page 567. No, that
wasn't Hunny-Bear either. Drop-Bear, page 1265. No! I was going
crazy. I needed cock, I needed honey-cum, so bad. I needed to keep
my promise. I needed to stop being bored. None of these needs could
coexist at the moment. Especially since I still couldn't see any men
in the library. With enormous effort, I forced myself back to the
book. Hollows-Wight, page 5878. I flopped the book to its
approximate quarter-point (it was enormous!) and -
And -
And it was Hunny-Bear! My heart leapt into my throat, and then an
image of his bloody body flashed into my mind and I wanted to cry. I
was looking at a printing of what looked like a very old engraving,
done in a very flat style reminiscent of Middle Ages manuscript
artwork. It was a little exaggerated - Hunny-Bear didn't have giant
fangs or sharp teeth, and he wasn't hairy, just a little fuzzy - but
the rotund little tummy, the stubby arms and legs, the beady little
eyes and even the T-shirt without pants (here a tunic) instantly
brought to mind the little creature I had been so intimate with. And
the sizable genitals also lended quite a bit of recognition.
I was so excited that I actually started reading all the blobby tiny
text next to the picture. Which was pretty surprising at the time,
'cause by that point I hated reading since it made me feel confused
and headached. I just really wanted to know all about Hunny-Bear...
like, even though I was a moron, I just... I dunno... thought maybe
I could honor his memory a little by learning about him. I even
stopped looking around for guys while I read! Anyway. Right. So, I
leaned in close (still standing up 'cause of my boobies, and I had
to use one arm to hold 'em down so they didn't cover half the page)
and read, slowly but stubbornly:
" HOLLOWS-WIGHT.
Demon.
Bear-Shaped Creature. *(shapeshifts often)
Golden Colour.
Woodlands, Copses, and Forests.
Hollows-Wight: An imp from the Second Circle of Hell. The Hollows-
Wight often has the appearance of a harmless, even comical, bear-
like creature with enormous genitals. In Hell they are chiefly used
as jesters and playthings by SUCCUBI, INCUBI, and other PROPER
DEMONS, but the Hollows-Wights are not inherently malicious
creatures. Many stories are passed down of merely mischievous or
even benevolent Hollows-Wights who have caused little harm to the
humans they have encountered.
The Hollows-Wight is peculiar in that, while confined to Hell in a
servant role (as all imps), they are one of a small handful of imp
varieties that may exit their Circle without their master
accompanying, if they are summoned by a particular ritual,
corresponding to their role; which in this case is, of course, Lust
and its associated emotions.
A summoned Hollows-Wight is immediately and strongly drawn to the
nearest suitable woodland, hence their name, and seem particularly
attracted to locations which already have other magical influences
(such as a LEAKING MEADOW); from here they take up residence and
spread their influence throughout the surrounding forest. Only one
Hollows-Wight seems to be bound to any given uninterrupted portion
of forest, and may inhabit it for many hundreds of years before
being drawn back to Hell.
As noted, Hollows-Wights often display remarkable lack of
maliciousness for imps and have had a long role in Scandinavian
mythological beliefs as the HULDREFOLK, with especially benevolent
Hollows-Wights referred to as TOMTES. In all cases, all research and
investigation has shown these entities to be either Hollows-Wights
or UNDER-WIGHTS. It is believed that Hollows-Wights were spread
abroad when Scandinavian immigrants with knowledge of the occult
performed summoning rituals on new lands, but this is currently only
conjecture.
The nectar of a Hollows-Wight's genitals is known to intoxicate
mortals and, in large quantities, can have transformative and/or
medicinal effects. The extent and severity of these changes is
highly dependent on the disease present, as well as the disposition
of the particular Hollows-Wight (malicious, mischievous,
benevolent). It is considered unwise to ingest it under any
circumstances due to a possible addictive nature somewhat akin to
that purported of opium.
Little has been recorded of extensive human contact with Hollows-
Wights since they tend to be somewhat enigmatic and reclusive,
preferring to avoid humans or play with them only briefly before
disappearing again. Should you find yourself confronted with the
darker side of a particular Hollows-Wight, beware that they are
nearly impervious to conventional harm (as are most DEMONFOLK), but
are said to have an acute weakness to copper, which supposedly
causes their flesh to burst from within if their skin is penetrated.
(Take note that this is no small task, for the skin of a Hollows-
Wight, while soft to the touch, is remarkably tough. One reported
incident states that a chunk of copper forged into a knife and used
to attempt to end the life of a particularly mean Hollows-Wight is
said to have ended very poorly when the knife-point, driven full-
force by a large and angry man, merely bounced off, and he was
turned into the Hollows-Wight's servant for the rest of his days by
the intoxicative nectar.)
Hollows-Wights are known to keep cattle (see UNDERJORDISKE for
similar behavior from Under-Wights), from which they garner a
remarkable amount of milk and "
"Did you find what you were looking for?"
I startled and found the lady looking at me while I tried to slow my
heart down. I felt like a little kid caught looking at porn. She had
no idea what this creature had done to me, though, so I tried to
calm down. "Uhm," I replied, "Yes, this is just what I was looking
for, thank you." She had broken my concentration, and I fidgeted as
the craving for cock came flooding back.
She leaned in to look at the picture, and her eyes widened. "Well
that's a lucky little bear, wouldn't you say?" she asked, winking at
me.
I giggled. Oh, she didn't know the half of it! "Yeah, but his
girlfriend's luckier," I replied, feeling dumb. But she laughed and
elbowed my ribs, making me feel better. "Uhm," I started, feeling
sheepish, "I need to read lots more of this, can I take it home with
me?"
She frowned. I didn't like that. "I'm afraid this book is classified
as reference-material only. It's very rare and we just can't risk it
going outside, even if you promised to take good care of it." Again
she was talking as if she had puppets on her hands to make the
points clearer. I sighed.
"But I promised someone I'd bring her this book. She said you'd let
me." I frowned.
"I'm sorry, but she was wrong. Perhaps she was thinking of a
different book." the lady replied.
"No, she wrote the note I gave you." Gosh, I barely cared anymore. I
needed a cock so bad and there were STILL NO GUYS ANYWHERE TO BE
SEEN.
"Well, then, perhaps she just wasn't thinking. Is your friend, uhm,
like you?" she said, admirably blunt.
"No," I replied sharply, "she is not. She's smart and her boobs are
tiny." I figured one compliment and one insult would balance each
other out.
"Would you like me to use our scanning system to take images of this
page?" responded the lady, seeming to feel a little bad. "Then you
can read it at home."
"Uhm," I said. Uh-oh. I was being presented with a choice that
involved using preexisting information to come to a new conclusion
which no one had supplied for me. That was asking a lot from me at
that point. I stared at her. "All I know is, I'm supposed to bring
this book back with me, and I promised, 'cause it was really
important. Can you scan every page?"
She laughed, and smiled. "No, sweety, that would take... probably
several years. And I have other things to do today."
"Oh." I frowned. I couldn't take it anymore. I had to find a cock.
Then I'd deal with this problem. "Can I have my bag back?"
"You're leaving?" she asked.
"For now. I'll be back once I think about what to do."
She smiled. "That's a lovely idea. You can talk to your friend and
maybe she can explain what she meant." I nodded. I held my hand out.
She shook her head. "I will give you your bag full of sticky
substances once we're in the lobby. We can't have sticky books in a
library, the patrons would be very upset and they'd cut our funding
again!"
I sighed. "OK. Let's go." Maybe a lower floor would actually have a
man on it. She set my bag down and closed the cover of the book, so
she could put it back.
"Erin!" shouted a voice in the distance. Her eyes widened. "I need
you here, now!"
Why were they allowed to shout, but I got in trouble? I tried to
figure out who was yelling. They sounded like a woman, though, so I
was still disappointed.
"Wait here," said the lady, "I need to see what's going on." Then
she yelled too! Hypocrite! "Coming!" And rushed off.
I stared for about 30 seconds off into the distance, scanning for
men. Then I forgot about the lady coming back entirely, saw the
book, remembered I promised Crystal, and put it in my shopping bag
full of honey-bottles. Oof! I was glad the guy double-bagged...
Then I was wandering downstairs. Fourth floor. Any guys? Any guys at
all? No.
Third floor. Any guys? I wandered a big circle. No guys. I just
wanted to find a guy. If I did I'd drop everything I was doing to
drop his pants. I heard commotion upstairs as I wandered down the
steps toward the second floor. It sounded like the lady, looking for
me.
Second floor. Oh, I realized. She's mad 'cause I took my bag without
her handing it to me. Oops! Oh well. More importantly there were no
guys on the second floor. What the hell? Did this library not stock
Playboy or something?
First floor. Surprise, no men. I was running my thighs together
desperately while I walked and tweaking one nipple anxiously,
enjoying the dull buzz it gave me.
Lobby. I looked for men. Of course, there were none. I sighed and
decided to leave this Library as fast as possible, forever scarred
by the knowledge that libraries were No Sex Zones where men didn't
exist. I heard yelling. I looked up to the third-floor balcony. It
was the lady.
"Stop! Excuse me! You cannot take that book! It's not allowed, and
for heaven's sake, you never even showed me a library card!" she
shouted fretfully, then turned to rush downstairs as I shrugged my
shoulders and kept walking. I wasn't quite sure what she was so
upset about, but I needed cock way too bad to slow down and wait for
her.
I bounced crazily down the library steps because I was moving so
fast, my tits flopping everywhere and my butt wobbling and hair
whipping around in the breeze and my big heavy bag (why did
Crystal's book have to be so big?) hurting my arms and -
And where were the men? I stopped at the bottom of the big steps
outside the library and looked up and down the sidewalk. There were
NO men. I couldn't believe it. I screamed out loud in frustration
and moved my free hand from my nipple to my pussy. Then I saw a cab.
Cabs took you places in exchange for blowjobs. PERFECT. That's what
I needed right now, honey-cum! Yes! I jumped up in excitement, and
my boobs finished following me a while later.
I flagged the cab down, jumped inside, and -
And saw it was a woman driving. I wailed in irritation. Then I saw
the lady from the library come running outside, looking all around.
Uh-oh. She was really mad about the book thing. Mad people yelled at
you, and that slowed you down, and right now I needed cock too bad
to slow down. "Could you drive me somewhere? Fast?" I asked.
The cab woman laughed and pulled away from the curb. "Where's
somewhere, honey?"
"Uh..." I replied.
"You going home?" she asked, trying to be helpful.
"Uhm..." Home sounded good. I knew I lived next to a man. I
remembered getting a key from him a few days ago. He had a cock, I
remembered checking it out when he opened the door. Good. "Yeah,
take me home!"
She laughed. "What's the address, honey?"
I froze. I couldn't remember. My brain was all foggy and empty and I
couldn't remember. "I... I can't remember."
She just laughed. "Late night, huh? Well, you got a friend's house
you wanna go to? I just need an address or you're gonna have a hell
of a fare, honey."
An address. I had an address, didn't I? The... the men! I had the
address of three men! And a shopping bag full of honey! Yes! Yes,
yes, yes, yes, YES! It was written down on a piece of paper, after I
talked on the pay phone, and I put it -
I put it in my jacket.
My man-jacket.
Which I left at the porn studio.
"I... I had one but I lost it." I said.
The driver pulled over. "You lost it, honey? You OK?"
"It was on a piece of paper, but it was in my jacket and I lost my
jacket." I said, fighting back tears. I just wanted to suck a
cock!!!
"Well, what about your bag? Maybe you put it in there?" asked the
woman, with a soft smile.
"I guess I can check," I replied, pouting and mad at myself, "but I
know it was in my jacket." I rummaged around. I found the piece of
paper Crystal had written on. I threw it on the floor. Then I
found... another piece of paper. What was that? I picked it up, and
unfolded it. "RICHARD, TED, MARK" it started. I squealed. "You were
right!" I yelled. "You were right, it is in here!" I leapt forward
and hugged her, my giant boobs squashing into her like deployed
airbags.
She laughed. "You're a cutie, aren't you?" She glanced down, then
back up. "And so big for your age."
My age? I looked in the rear-view mirror. Wow. My face looked like
the world's most pornographic 16-year-old. That is, super-sexy in
all the sluttiest ways, especially since I still had my make-up on
from the porno shoot. Even though I was dressed like a nun crossed
with Home Depot. Then I noticed we were pulling away from the curb
again. "So you're gonna take me there?" I asked, excited.
"Sure thing, honey. Looks like an address to me." She smiled.
I was so happy! I was about to be delivered to the doorstep of not
just a cock, but three cocks! The three cocks who found me in the
forest -
And killed Hunny-Bear. I frowned. They shot my imp. That sucked. It
made me mad. I needed their cocks, but... but... but I was going to
yell at them when we were done!
Oh. What about Crystal? I kicked my toe against the heavy book in
the bag. I had gone through so much trouble to try to keep my
promise. I should have the cab lady drop me off at the occult place,
I thought. On the other hand (which I was barely keeping out of my
pants), I needed cock. Bad. I told myself it would be OK if I gave
the book to Crystal later, as long as I kept my promise. That way I
could get cock now, and I really needed it now.
So I let myself give in, for then, and just started dreaming about
cocks the rest of the way there.
- XXXVIII -
"UHM, honey?" came the cab lady's voice. My eyes snapped open, and I
realized my hand was thrusting around inside my pants. Oops!
Oh well. Shame isn't very effective when your attention span
evaporates before you can say the term. "Yeah?" I asked, turning to
look at her happily.
"We're at the address on your note." I looked out the window. A
bland-looking apartment complex stood before me. Yeah, this looked
like the kind of place three graduate students could afford by
pooling their incomes. It looked kinda weirdly familiar, but I
couldn't place why; I was too horny to spend any more time thinking
about it. I started to get out of the vehicle. "Oh, honey - honey, I
need your fare."
I paused. Uh-oh. I turned around slowly, panicking, then remembered
how I had paid my last cab fare. But since the cab lady didn't have
a cock (at least, I assumed not), I combined it with something the
porn man had tried to do to me: "Uhm, can I eat you out instead?"
She frowned pointedly. "No, honey. That's gonna be $19." At least
the library hadn't been far away.
We just stared at each other in silence for a while. I needed to
give her something so she'd let me go. My eyes lit up, and I reached
into my shopping bag: "How about some honey?"
She sighed, growing a little irritated. "No h - sweetie. I just want
to be paid."
I wanted to just bolt and run, but honestly, I was pretty sure my
crazy-big boobies and nutso proportions would make me pretty easy to
outrun. After servicing that cab man, my shirt was bulging off me to
the straining point, and my pants were constricting my butt. I had
been so busy concentrating on my promise in the library that -
My promise! Thinking about how I hadn't thought about my butt
feeling too squeezed inside the pants reminded me of how I had been
concentrating on my promise and -
"Hey!" I said, causing her to blink in surprise. "Uhm, I need you to
give this book to someone." With a grunt I managed to pull the
enormous tome out of my bag and thud it on to the passenger seat.
"Oh really." she replied, nonplused by my nonpayment.
"Yeah. She's at the occult store that's... uhm... it's close to the
library, and, uhm, and a mattress store!" The cab lady just stared
at me, bewildered. "She needs this book, I promised I'd bring it to
her." A candle lit up inside my head. "She'll pay for your fare to
get there! And mine! She takes care of me!"
That seemed to make the cab lady a little happier. "Oh, really?"
"Yeah, honest!" I insisted. "Just tell her that... uhm... well, she
doesn't know my name," the cab lady frowned, "but she knows me,
honest, I swear, just tell her the hunny girl sent you and she'll
pay for my fare and the fare to get you there, honest!"
"O...kay," replied the cab lady, glancing askance at me.
I was feeling nervous, and so, so, so, SO horny, so I kept babbling
as I desperately shifted my thighs together. "Yeah, it's this really
rare book, like there's only one in the whole world now, and, uhm,
yeah, so she wants it because you can't get the stuff in it anywhere
else so it's really important!"
The cab lady's eyes lit up. "Oh, well, hey, honey, no problem! I'll
make sure your... uh... friend at the occult store near the mattress
shop gets it."
"You will?" I squealed, feeling so relieved.
"Right, sure." she said nicely, avoiding eye contact. Well,
whatever.
"Oh!" I said, putting my hand on the cover right before she could
take it, "Hold on, I need one thing from it." And I flipped it open
to page 5878, pondered a moment, shrugged, and tore the page out.
The woman choked mildly:
"Oh, Jesus, no honey!" she shrieked.
"What?" I asked innocently, stuffing the torn page into my bag of
honey-bottles. "I only need that one page, I know Crystal won't
mind." At least, I hoped not.
"Aw, Jesus..." she grumbled.
"Can I go now?" I asked, fidgeting.
"Yeah, honey," she smiled weakly, "go on."
"And you'll bring this to Crystal?" I implored.
"Sure, honey, sure I will." she replied, again avoiding eye contact.
Whatever. It meant I was free! Free to go find cock!
"OK! Thanks so much!" I chirped, then hurried away and up the flimsy
wooden steps that led to the apartment number the cab lady had
pointed me toward. I bounced like crazy the whole way.
Annnnnnd... OK. I admit. It was hard. Finding the right number, that
is. All the doors looked exactly the same, and all the numbers and
letters on them did too. Sometimes the fogginess in my brain would
be manageable - like when I was looking through the library book -
but only when it was something really, really important to me.
Getting cock was important, but picking the right door wasn't,
'cause I bet that lots of the doors had cocks behind them. But
finding the right men was important, 'cause I had already decided to
do that and it was the whole point of coming there. Or was finding a
cock the whole point? See, I got confused so easily that I had to be
stubborn about stuff I was told, or told myself before, or I'd just
stand there masturbating forever trying to decide what to do.
Finally I just gave up, and knocked on a random door. Visible
disappointment coated my face when it was answered by yet another
GIRL. Woman? Whatever. "Do Richard, Mark, and Ted live here?" I
asked.
She smiled sweetly, if a little suspiciously regarding why a
fertility-idol-turned-porn-queen teenybopper was looking for 3 male
graduate students. "No honey, you want number 42H." I giggled. That
sounded like my tit size now. It reminded me of the restaurant and
table 34B. I giggled louder. I remembered when 34B could have been
my tit size. Those tiny little things! Gosh, I was glad I had grown
up. Well, mostly I'd grown down, but my tits had inflated a lot, and
that was cool. "Honey?" asked the woman again, apparently curious
about my sudden fit of giggling.
"Oh, sorry," I smiled, "I was thinking about something funny." She
smiled politely and started to say something. I cut her off: "Uhm,
listen, I know it's 42H but I can't find it."
She flashed one of those "oh, she's one of those types" looks, then
tried to smile kindly. "Oh, alright. Well this is 42D, so if you
just count four doors down from here, you'll be at their apartment."
I stared at her.
"You can do that... can't you?" she inquired, becoming worried.
"I... think so." I replied with honest uncertainty.
"Well... uhm... come back here if you can't, OK?" she asked, and
began closing the door.
"OK! Thanks!" I yelled as it closed and locked.
OK, I told myself, you can do this. One. Two. Three? Or was this
two? Had I counted down two doors already? I looked back down the
row of doors. They all looked the same. Everything in my head
jumbled. Two, or three? I shrugged and went with three. Which meant
the door I was in front of was four.
I knocked on it with my tiny little hand.
A sexy man - a MAN - a COCK-WIELDING MALE - opened the door. He was
dressed in a boring T-shirt and sweatpants. I knew what those
sweatpants must contain, and salivated, then licked my lips. I
stared up into his eyes. "Hi there." I said sweetly, with a hint of
something extra.
"Oh. Oh!" he exclaimed, then eyed me up and down. "Oh, I get it!" He
turned back around. "Hey! Hey guys, that stripper he was gonna send
us just got here!"
"Here? Now?" called another voice - another MAN - "Why? It's the
middle of the day - "
"I dunno man," called the guy who opened the door, "but she's here."
Two more men - TWO MORE MEN!!! - appeared to either side of the
first one, cramming their big, broad bodies into the doorway to get
a look at me. All three's eyes were bulging. "You're the stripper?"
one of them asked.
I stared. I wasn't a stripper, I was just an everyday girl who
needed cock like girls do. But he seemed so excited, I didn't want
to disappoint him: "I can take my clothes off if you want."
He laughed. "Awesome, babe. That sounds good to me."
The third guy peered out the doorway and up-and-down the balcony
hallway. "Hey, where's the keg?"
Keg? I didn't have a keg. Something far in the back of my mind
tingled that he was expecting a keg. But I didn't have one! I tried
to save face: "I have honey!" I said happily, holding up my shopping
bag.
He stared, then burst out laughing. "OK, forget it. Maybe it'll be
delivered later."
The first man held his hand out. My knees quivered a little at the
big, thick palm extended down toward me. "So you coming in, little
lady?" he asked smoothly. I grinned happily and swayed
(uncontrollably) into the apartment. I couldn't resist grabbing at
his thick cock through the sweatpants even before the apartment door
was closed.
"Whoa," he exclaimed, "don't you girls have a hands-off policy?"
I stared at him blankly. "What kind of fun would that be?"
The other two men whistled. One of them piped up: "Holy shit, Rich,
I think that dude bought us way more than a stripper for saving his
sister."
His sister? Oh! OH! It all came flooding back to me, piercing
through the fog of stupidity sitting on my mind. Of course! They
were expecting a stripper to be sent over and then I showed up with
boobs hanging down to my navel. Duhhhh. But, wait, shouldn't they be
confused? Weren't these the men who rescued me? Shouldn't they
wonder why I sent that "sister" to fuck them?
"So, uhm," stumbled Richard, the guy who had opened the door. "Do
you... I mean... are you going to do a show?"
"Uh," I replied, and gave up on coming up with anything clever, "I'm
actually too horny to wait much longer, and my pants are squeezing
my butt and my nipples keep rubbing against this shirt and, like,
could you help me get my clothes off? Then I'll be a stripper for
you, if you want."
They burst out laughing and exchanged "she's not too bright" looks.
"No, babe, don't worry about it. You wanna shag right now, hey, I
dunno about these two, but I'm cool with it." said one of the not-
Richards.
"Definitely cool with it." said the other not-Richard.
"I'm cool with it, it's just... wow, not what I was expecting." said
Richard, bewildered.
"OK!" I said happily, my craving for cock boiling crazily. I needed
a hit so bad. Which reminded me... "Oh. But before you guys cum in
my mouth, could you fill it with honey?" I pointed to my shopping
bag.
They laughed excitedly. "Holy shit, whatever you want, babe."
replied not-Richard #1.
"You seriously swallow?" asked not-Richard #2.
"Duh. Why else would I do it?" I asked. That seemed to make them
even happier.
"Are you... I mean, shouldn't we be wearing condoms? She seems to...
you know... get around," said Richard in a too-loud whisper.
"Oh no I don't have much sex," I said, "you can even look at my
pussy if you want, it's brand new and shiny." That made them pause a
moment, but a quick look up and down seemed to convince them that
even if I was a trannie, they didn't care.
Anyway, my paltry assurance seemed good enough for the not-Richards,
whose cocks were clearly straining at their pants. Upon noticing
this I lost it completely, lunging forward to massage not-Richard
#1's cock through his trousers until he held my hand back long
enough to drop them. I tore through his boxers like a hungry bear at
a campground picnic and was soon happily sucking away.
Meanwhile, not-Richard #2 helped me get my shirt off, exposing my
truly gargantuan tits and instantly stiffening the whole room even
further. "Holy fuck, are those real?" exclaimed not-Richard #2. I
nodded happily as I bobbed up and down over not-Richard #1's cock.
"Mark, this is goddamn incredible. This girl must cost a fortune."
Mark - previously not-Richard #1 - could only nod weakly as I sucked
him down with furious skill. Soon I felt him tense, and I pulled
off, pinching his cock brutally. "Honey!" I exclaimed with
irritation. Mark stared at me, then came out of his preorgasmic fog
long enough to take the honey-bottle that not-Richard-and-not-Mark
had handed him. I felt the sweet taste drip onto my tongue and
quivered with anticipation. Oh, god, it had been so long since I got
honey-cum! Like, at least... maybe two hours! I dove back eagerly
onto Mark's cock just in time to catch the first pulse. It mixed
gloriously with the honey and the buzz of euphoria crawled through
me.
This time, though, the cock hadn't even finished pulsing and the
craving had already flooded back into me. Argh! It was getting
harder and harder to get a hit! I turned to not-Richard-and-not-Mark
like a hungry wolf. "Look out, Ted!" said Richard, laughing, as Mark
slumped against the wall with a dreamy look on his face. Ted barely
had time to react before I had his cock in my mouth; I had gotten
warmed-up on Mark and was now moving in my fully skilled, ruthlessly
efficient cock-mongering mode. Ted soon was squeezing honey into my
mouth, and then delivering the lovely ejaculated goods.
They both looked tired now, which annoyed me, so I turned to
Richard. He held up his hand: "Hey, listen, you're really hot -
really hot - but I dunno if I can go for this kind of thing."
I shrugged and turned back to Mark, trying to rouse him. He groaned
weakly. "Couple more minutes... come on you stupid cock..."
OK then. Fine. I had to take matters into my own little hands. I
remembered what the porno studio boys had liked, and decided to try
that. Swaying over to a thick glass table in their living room, I
bent myself over it, my tits spreading across the glass gloriously,
my ass propped way into the air. Oh, this felt good. Anticipating,
waiting to receive... mmmm. "OK boys," I called out in my voice of
utter, bimbo lust, "who wants to help me out of these pants and slip
something more comfortable into me?"
That did it, and fast. Ted and Mark bolted across the room so quick
they practically left dust clouds, and I felt my jeans sliding down.
Yes! My big, thick, firm butt bobbled free. "Holy - look at that
ass!" exclaimed Mark, slapping it. I thrilled. I squealed. I felt a
hard cock brush up along my cheeks and hover in-between,
tantalizingly. It hesitated.
"Don't wait, go for it you bastard!" I shrieked. He laughed happily
and I felt it plunge in. It was nice, but it wasn't honey-cum. I
turned over my shoulder to look at Ted: "Wanna fuck my mouth?"
Wow, did he ever! Soon I was being sawed into from both ends,
bouncing back and forth between alternating thrusts. Then I felt
Richard, who had hung back nervously until now, reach under me and
begin fondling my tits. I moaned happily. I hoped Ted wouldn't
forget the honey. He didn't. I shrieked in ecstasy as the drops hit
my tongue, then needed more, even worse. Gosh! The craving just
never ended, did it?
Soon Richard was in my mouth and Ted was on tits duty. I looked down
at the glass, and was startled by my reflection. I was crazier-
looking than Moo-Girl! I mean, like, I had thought she looked like a
cartoonish, ludicrously-exaggerated female face. But she looked
average compared to me! It was as if someone had gone through a
checklist and ticked off every single feature that would be
associated as "extremely female" on a girl, and then freakishly
glued them all together to make my face.
I blinked my huge eyes. Moo-Girl. Is this how she had started?
Hunny-Bear had said she got away from him. And then this happened.
And then, he never really explained it, but then she ended up
turning into Moo-Girl. Was I going to become a milky, horny cow-slut
too? Was that the end result of this? Lactating with four huge boobs
all the time, while being crazily horny all day long, living from
one tit squeeze or fucking to another?
I felt Mark squeeze my tit as I was rolled off the table and onto my
back, being fucked by Richard now. Ted lowered himself into my mouth
from above and I eagerly sucked more cock into me. Cock was my new
oxygen. Maybe Moo-Girl didn't have it so bad, you know? This was
pretty fucking great, and I loved it every time my titties got
bigger and made me even more sexier. All this honey-cum I was
swallowing was inflating them to ludicrous sizes, but thankfully the
boys were too involved in their orgy to pay close attention. And I
think maybe I was getting dumber all the time, but I couldn't tell
if that was from honey-cum or just me. I giggled.
Then I was on my stomach, being fucked from behind with by butt
arched into the air and my huge boobies literally propping me off
the ground, a cock in my mouth - I didn't know whose anymore, I
didn't care - and someone cumming all over my back. That was new,
but made me feel thrilled and used inside, which for some reason was
a powerful turn-on. I salivated from all the relevant orifices even
more, and was soon rolled over onto my side and fucked even more.
When the boys seemed to be tiring out, another candle lit up in my
head and I offered them my asshole. That seemed to perk them up like
the earlier table stunt had, and I got 5 or 6 more swallows of
honey-cum out of it. Then I did something else to keep them going.
It all gets really blurry. I can't remember much. It was just a
crazy, endless, primal bout of cum-extraction and sexual
exploitation from both directions. I had my legs up against the
wall. I was leaned over the balcony. I was on the kitchen counter
with a banana up my cunt. I was in their bedroom. I was under the
computer sucking them off while they read forums. I was in the
closet. I was in the shower. I think every square inch of their
apartment got coated with my sweat and come, including the ceiling,
thanks to creative use of two boys for support and a few step-
ladders.
- XXXIX -
AND then I came back to my senses. We were back in the living room,
apparently. Richard was sprawled out on the couch. Mark was face-
down on the floor. Ted was hanging halfway-out the back slider onto
the balcony. I tried to rouse each one in turn, but couldn't even
get a mild groan. They were out cold. I tried sucking on their
cocks, but couldn't even get an auto-pilot response from their
bodies. My toys were out of batteries, plain and simple, and had to
recharge. I pouted.
The buzzing all over my body that had been consuming me in the
library was still there. The more I fucked and sucked, the worse I
seemed to need it. It was an addiction that no hit could soothe, not
even for a moment - not anymore. But there was no more cum around,
for awhile. I briefly wondered if I could just rip off their balls
and eat them, but immediately decided that was too gross, and wasn't
sure if I even had enough brains to be correct about cum coming from
balls.
I decided to try to pass the time until one of their cocks could
feed me again. How, though? I was all-consumed by cocklust. I sat on
the floor, nude and coated in layers of cum like a public statue in
pigeon scat, masturbating hopelessly with one hand while bouncing my
tits with the other. Oh boy. My tits. Wow. They swelled up - along
with the rest of my feminine fertility-goddess exaggeration - with
every dose of delicious honey-cum I sucked down. And I had just
sucked down a very large amount of delicious honey-cum doses, after
starting with H-cup knockers.
They filled my lap. I could barely move. I'm serious. They were
ludicrous and gigantic. They started from these tiny little anchor
points on my chest - I mean, they took up my whole torso, but my
ribcage was so tiny now that that's not saying much - and then
flooded outward in this big, graceful set of curves. Nothing at all
like big silicone stripper tits that are blatantly artificial
hemispheres or giant ellipses. These had a smooth, natural flow to
them that made it blatantly clear they were real, but real in a way
no human being has been documented as possessing.
I tried standing up. It was really, really hard. Not only were my
tits huge beyond the alphabet-sizing system, my body was even tinier
and weaker than before. I managed to sit up on my knees. My tits
touched the carpet. Holy shit, I exclaimed in my head. I could just
barely reach the big nipples on the end, and gave them a little
tweak. oOoOoOoOoh, that felt good! I tried standing up again. It
just wasn't happening. I gave up and crawled - backwards, so I could
drag my giant boob-sacks - over to my shopping bag, then fished out
the page I had torn from the book.
It was all nonsense to me now. I had been able to read it in the
library, but now it was hopeless. Wait. I concentrated really,
really hard. Concepts blurred into existence from inside the fog of
the page. Little black blobs made meanings. I skimmed over it, it
was all stuff I remembered. Nothing new about Hunny-Bear -
I froze. Hunny-Bear! I turned my attention to the overwhelming
honey-cum cravings coursing through me. Hunny-Bear sated my
cravings! I needed Hunny-Bear again! I leered at the three men lying
comatose in the room. Them! They had taken Hunny-Bear from me! I
almost walked over and started kicking them, until I realized I
couldn't walk anymore. I skimmed further down the page, and
something caught my attention:
" The Hollows-Wight is summoned through a ritual that opens a
gateway between the waking mortal world and the Second Circle of
Hell. Unlike many imps, the Hollows-Wights have over the millenia
formed an organization for the purpose of serving their interests
with respect to treatment and working conditions. This allows the
Hollows-Wights to have more bargaining power in the unstable power
structure of the upper circles of Hell. As such, it is not the
permission of the imp's master that you must garner to summon them
onto our plane, but the approval of the current Wight-Head who
manages their "
BLAH blah blah blah is all I saw. But I got the general idea. I
could summon a new Hunny-Bear! And then the unstoppable cravings
might actually slow down for a second! As fun as it was to get
fucked, I was becoming desperate for some kind of actual release
after waiting forever and never reaching one. I looked all over the
page for how to summon a new Hunny-Bear. Then I saw:
" ... and for details on their summoning see more general guidelines
at SUMMONINGS, IMP on page 24824. "
NOOOOOO! I threw the page down in frustration and went back to
masturbating, having to reach through a tunnel in my cleavage to get
to my damp pussy. I needed the book back but I didn't have Crystal's
number and I didn't know if the boys had a phone book and and and
and and and
And hold on, I thought. When I was a man - yuck, really? - I used to
do something to find stuff that wasn't in books. It had something to
do with what the library lady showed me. Sur... Searching! And,
uhm... I used a computer -
I looked across the room at the boys' computer and my eyes lit up.
Soon I was dragging my giant tits back across the floor and arrived
at the little computer desk. There was just one problem: I couldn't
get my tits off the floor, and I was too short now to reach up and
use the keyboard. Fuck. Hey, that sounded good - but no, the boys
were still comatose, and I needed to concentrate! I sighed, and
looked back at the computer with adorable determination in my
ludicrous, feminine caricature of a face. I got onto my knees,
feeling my huge tits supported by the floor. Still too short. If I
could just get onto the chair...
An unbelievable flash of brilliance burst through my brain, and I
crawled back toward a footstool that was laying tipped-over in the
kitchen and had been used to get me into a creative sexual position.
Dragging it back with me, I approached the computer and hefted one
giant tit on to the footstool. That provided enough support that I
could, with monumental effort, lift the other tit just using my
muscles, and I managed to drag myself into the chair. One huge
boobie dangled off the chair comically, forcing me about 40
centimeters away from the desk's edge. The other was still propped
up on the footstool below, though it dangled somewhat also with my
higher location.
Spreading my arms like a hugging crab, I reached around my spilling
titflesh and used extreme effort to remember how to get an Internet
browser open. Then I spent several minutes trying to remember what
website to search with, and finally ended up at Google, feeling very
proud of myself. I held up the page I had torn from the book, and
very carefully hen-pecked the keyboard, imitating the letters on the
page one by one: "summoned hollows-wight". I pressed random buttons
until the page changed. I spent several more minutes figuring out
how to use search results, and that I needed to click on them with
the mouse cursor.
I'll spare you the endless failures I encountered along the way, but
after about 25 minutes I brought up a webpage that hit all the right
notes. It had a lot of pop-up ads and irritating flashing banner
ads, and annoying MIDI music in the background, and too many stupid
animated .GIFs cycling over and over, and the background wallpaper
was really ugly and had no sense of design or even readability, and
there were a lot of spelling errors... but it also said the
following:
" SUMMONING IMPS
(blah blah blah, I scanned past it)
The Hollows-Wight
The ritual of the Hollows-Wight involves using the tools of the
Second Circle of Hell to invoke the creature to your location on
Earth. That would be Lust and various dfemonic components that the
hollows-Wights are fond of, and for there magical abilities to
summon from the Otherworlds. You need three (3) sexually-exhosted
individuals (this creates a void area where the imp will be drawn
to) -- do not use 5!!! Penatagrams are not always what is needed in
summoning rituals, this misconception can be very disappointing or
somethimes even dangerous when the ritual is attempted!! Three is
important to Hollows-WightS because it represents the carnal points:
Mouth, Genitals, Anus, as well as Penis and 2 Testicles, and Two
Lips and a Clitoris. Do not use more or less than 3 individuals!!
Also beware because their souls will likely be collected in exchange
for the Hollows-Wight being granted passage to our World, as the imp
leaders in the 2nd circle have influence dur to their organization
but are still thrals of the succubi and incubi and so cannot act
without appeasing them and collecting souls is a good way to do
that). You must draw a line bwteen each einvidual made of salt (JUST
TABLE SALT, NO PEPPER), strip them naked, and make sure they are
arranged in the shape of a triangle (E.G. not a line!).. Collect a
sexually-charged object (example: used condom will do fine) and
place it in the center of the triangle. then masturbate (male OR
female is fine for this step) while standing over the object; you do
not have to cum that is not necessary just make sure you keep
masturbating until the salt-lines glow, then the ritual is complete
and from there you must negotiate with the hollws-wight's leader. Be
careful if doing so while under the influence of sexual magics like
[blower dust] beca "
I tried really, really hard to make sure I followed it. It was even
more confusing than normal words 'cause so many of them were weird
or spelled wrong. But I managed to get it into my foggy little head,
'cause it was soooooo important to see Hunny-Bear, so, so, so
important! But when I saw the link to "blower dust", it reminded me
of what Crystal had called bussie-boppers, and I wanted to know if
this website could tell me what the flower had done to me, and so I
clicked the link and didn't read the rest of what it said 'cause I
had already memorized the ritual.
The page was loading, and the pop-up blocker was going to town
trying to keep everything off the screen. I got tired of waiting
(after half a second) and turned around. My eyes lit up. Richard on
the couch... Mark on the floor... and Ted over on the balcony. They
were already in a triangle! It was perfect! I didn't really want to
sell the boys' souls to Hell, since they had fucked me so nicely,
but... then again... anger flashed in my eyes. These boys killed
Hunny-Bear! Maybe they deserved some payback for blowing away my
boyfriend, huh? Especially since I'm the one who was supposed to be
"blowing away" Hunny-Bear. I giggled at my inane joke.
I noticed the new page had loaded.
" BLOWERS
Properly called Fell Clocks, these resemble dandeliobns to the
untrained eye and indeed most people will neveer see a blower in
their life. They are considered one of the purest and riskiest drugs
in the occult community and so have come to have a sort of mystique
and symbolism to them as something hardcore; e.G. oif you've done
blowers and you're talking about it then you're a really experienced
user. Blowers cause an initial reaction that seems like really bad
allergies or hay-fever, but it ios not a histamine reponse and
cannot be tamed with any man-made allergie medication. It is a
magical reaction.
The primary effect of a blower is to literally eat a hole into a
person's mind. The blower spores slowly seep into a person's brain,
consuming their thoughts from the inside out. Usually the reaction
proceeds in a "top down" fashion i.e. the highest most advanced
levels of knowledge are burned up first and then it moves down from
there, so a common description of an imporperly-adminstered blower
hit is thjat the person feels like/seems to be constantly getting
dumber every minute. This reaction can take days to finish
completely and at first they may just feel thjey're being more
forgetyful than usual.
Blowers seem to leave the "reward pathways" of the brain for last so
things that are simple and gratifying i.e. hedonistic behaviors like
drug use or especially sex, will often remain intact quite strongly
even as the rest of the brain falls apart; this can lead tyo cases
of blower victims continuing to hunt for even more blower achenes to
inhale, speeding up the reaction in a vcious cyucle. In those who do
not have a preexisting addiction (i.e. alcohol, drugs) usually sex
(which for most people is an addiction in its own way) will take the
place as the obsessive behavior. This is why many end-result users
of imporoperly-prepared blower achenes will end up as basically
mindless sex-obsessed sluts or rapists, only smart enough to get
themselves from "fuck to fuck" to so speak.
A small percentage of users in the mystical circles are known to
have a severe physical reaction to the magic as well, swelling up
quite visibly in human erogenous zones (both male or female e.g. a
female will get very swollen clitoris and a man might get very large
boobs, et cetera) but these swellings will dissipate either with
proper magical treatment or time. This is in contrast to the mental
deterioration of blowers which is very hard to reverse and will only
worsen with time. A frwequent experience when using blowers is a
powerful itching sensation, which is triggered by the magical
destruction of thoughts echoing into the neurons and vibrating down
through the nervous system; scratching and medications have no
effect.
Treating blowers is nearly impossible, once disturbed their clocks
release very powerful magical spores. This is why blowers are among
the most epensive occult drugs on the market: they must be prepared
in extremely specific conditions and under exacting processes so
that just enough essence is extracted to create a brief, thrilling
loss of intelligence and control, but the effect can be recovered
from. Those who have had properly-prepared blower achenes and
survived claim it is one of the most amazing drug-induced
experiences a mortal can have. Most, however, end up as brain-dead,
as described above, due to the volatility of the magic. Even
experienced blower-cutters have been known to fall to the effects.
ONe treatment tyhat has been known to work is the impressive
medicinal qualities of [Hollows-Wight] "nectar" (which is really a
euphemism for their genital secretions), known for treating a great
many conditions, but there are side effects: namely the nectar only
counteracts the blower magic, it can not remove it, and so constant
dosage is requried; also it tends to "stabilize" rather than reverse
blower changes i.e. some mental deterioration remains, especially
the obsessive focus on some satisfying experience, and also the
blower's exaggeration of erogenous zones usually remains (as opposed
to untreated where it fades quickly), but to a less exaggerated
degree than the initial swellinsg. Reports of full-on sex changes
caused by the blower-nectar interaction are not to be dismissed, as
the body essentially becomes a petri dish wherein two extremely
toxic, powerful magics are perpetually competing for control.
WARNING: Do NOT attempt to create "nouveau nectar" by mixing insect
honey (i.e. bee's) into various substances, as an alternative to
rare and epxensive nectar dosages. After ingesting hollows-wight
nectar the body becomes highly sensitized, some theorize a magical
residue remains permanently in the body afer ingesting nectar, much
like a dormant virus can flare up in humans many years after the
initial sickness; HONEY FOR SOME REASON HAS A VERY COMPLICATED MAGIC
INTERACTION WHEN COMBINED WITH NECTAR RESIDUES AND CREATES A WIDE
RANGE OF DISTURBING SIDE-EFFECTS, usually having to do with the
conditions at hand: in the case of blowers this is relevant because
the "erogenous effects" seem to spin wildly out of hand with each
dose of honey administered. Repeat: IN THE CASE OF BLOWER-NECTAR
TREATMENT, HONEY IS A POWERFUL MAGICAL CATALYST AND MUST BE AVOIDED
AT ALL COSTS. It does not, however, seem to exaggerate the mental
deterioration of the blowers; nor does it, though, slow it down. But
the physical effects are (reportedly) reason enough NOT to do this!!
You may temporarily "feel better" because it imitates the "magical
rush" the body gets from nectar dosage but IT WILL NOT MAKE YOU
BETTER, I GARANTEE IT. "
I blinked, trying really hard with my vapid little mind to take all
this in. It didn't work very well. I just understood that bussie-
boppers were bad, and... uhm... they made me dumb, apparently. And
Hunny-Bear made me better with his hunny from his big delicious
cock. And... and he was dead now - I glared at the three exhausted
men behind me - and I needed a new Hunny-Bear or I'd, like, lose all
my brains. I wondered what was left to lose, and giggled loudly.
Richard roused mildly. "Uhmmm... guys, I totally figured out where I
remember her from... you know how we said she looked familiar?" The
others didn't respond, sleeping soundly. He continued anyway,
completely out of it: "She's Busty Bop-Her, guys! That hot
fucking... fucking chick from... from..." He passed out again. Had I
really worn these poor boys out that much? Well, I was a needy girl!
I giggled.
Busty Bop-Her, huh? Was that what the porn guys had thought my name
was? I stopped and thought about it. Bussie-Bopper. Busty Bop-Her.
Huh. They were kind of similar. I wonder if that's what Hunny-Bear
named the blowers after, like when I heard "mugril" for "Moo-Girl".
Moo-Girl... I needed to do the ritual before I turned into something
like her... I thought. I rubbed my pussy happily, maneuvering
awkwardly around my inhumanly large tits to do so. This was pretty
fun, being a crazy little fuck-toy...
Oh. But nothing I did gave me a hit any more. I'd have to go my
whole life never getting sexual release, at least not like Hunny-
Bear gave me. That... even my dumb, slutty little brain could
identify that as a Bad Thing. I removed my hand and slid off the
chair, my tits making everything weird as I crashed to the carpet
and was followed by huge boobies a few seconds later. They flopped
on top of me and pinned me down, and I had to roll and wrestle for
several sweaty minutes before I managed get on my hands and knees
again. I dragged myself into a position to survey the room and went
over a mental checklist I had proudly succeeded in memorizing.
I needed:
- 3 sexually-exhausted humans. (check... perfect!)
- Arranged in a triangle. (check... how convenient!)
- With salt-lines drawn in-between. (hmmm)
- And a sexually-charged object. (hmmm)
- And to masturbate in the middle. (boy, I had that covered)
So I dragged myself into the kitchen and started looking for salt. I
checked all the floor-level cabinets and was disappointed to know my
life wasn't going to be that easy. Then I spied a big cylinder of
table salt - it looked like they didn't even use salt shakers, just
poured it out of the package - sitting up on the kitchen counter. I
was so puny by then that I couldn't have reached it even if I stood
up, were that possible. I sighed, dragged myself back to the
computer, and grabbed the footstool. I placed it in position. Then I
grabbed one of the step-ladders they had used to fuck me on the
ceiling, and then the other one.
Soon I had constructed a terrifyingly unsafe set of "stairs" upon
which I could place myself, then drag each tit up, then move to
another level, then drag each tit up again, with enough support
along the way that my weak arms would have a chance at managing it.
It worked, and I soon had the salt container in my hand. It didn't
feel full, but it was so big I couldn't imagine it running out. I
began to carefully lower myself back onto my three-supports set-up,
but it was harder with only one hand available, and -
Crash. I slipped, one stepladder tipped, I hit the stool with one
giant tit and it flipped over, the other ladder fell, I got bruised
and smashed and rolled around and giant wobbling tits and butts were
everywhere and... Eventually it came to a stop. I was either tougher
now, or oblivious, 'cause the fall didn't slow me down much. I had
managed to keep the salt from spilling when I fell, which was my
primary goal, and I giggled at my heroism, feeling proud. I heard
two of the men stir at all the commotion, and froze. No no no no!
They couldn't move now!
"What the fuck?" asked Mark groggily.
"I'm just, uh, making you guys dinner... don't get up?" I called.
They mumbled happily and passed out again. I grinned. That was one
promise I wasn't concerned about keeping, especially since I'd be
trading them to Hell in exchange for Hunny-Bear soon. The rotten
bastards. They deserved it, too.
I dragged my tits over to Mark, pulled open the metal spout on the
salt container, and then dragged myself backwards toward the couch
where Richard was. A centimeter-wide, bright white line poured out
in front of me as I backed onwards, and then I reached the couch.
Hmmm. The line had to go all the way to Richard, right? So I poured
some salt on the couch cushions up to his arm. I tried pouring some
vertically down the couch but it just fell to the floor, so I
shrugged and figured it would be OK.
Then I was dragging my boobs backwards, past the computer, toward
the patio where Ted was hanging halfway inside, halfway outside.
Success. I scooted back, watching Ted recede and my white line
follow me, just having to reach Mark again to complete the triangle,
and -
And ran out of salt. About 10 centimeters away from Mark. I shook
the container like crazy, but couldn't get any more salt out. Oh
well! I had no more time left, and certainly couldn't go get salt
from somewhere else. And if I asked the boys to get it for me, well,
I'd have some explaining to do. So I shrugged. Hopefully this would
work!
I just needed a sexually charged object at that point. I really
didn't really have any ideas. My tits and my pussy didn't detach,
and neither did the boys' cocks. I never used condoms 'cause then
the yummy cum was wasted. Then I saw... a honey-bottle lying on the
ground near the couch. Would that count? I always made the boys
shove it into my mouth and squeeze right before I swallowed their
cum. I hoped that would do, 'cause at that point I could almost feel
myself gettin' dumber by the second, honestly, and cravin' cock
crazier than ever. I would probably give up and just start rubbin'
myself like wild against one of boys' cocks, even if it was limp as
a shoelace, if I didn't get this ritual goin' like THEN.
So I dragged my titties over there, tryin' real hard not to mess up
the salt-lines, but makin' sure the carpet scraped my nipples 'cuz
that felt super-awesome. I picked up the honey-bottle and crawled
back, set it... about where I guessed the middle of the freakin'
triangle was, I wasn't about to measure the damn thing, and thought
real hard about the last step. OK. OK. Uhm... uhm... oh yeah! Fuck
yeah! All I hadda do was fuck myself! I squealed in delight, lurched
to my knees with my huge tits draped over my thighs and onto the
carpet, and started crammin' one finger in an outta my mouth and the
other hand in an outta my gushin' pussy like crazy. I dunno how long
that went on 'cuz it coulda gone on forever and I wouldna complained
'cuz it felt sooooooooooooooo fuckin' gooooooooooooood.
And then... a glow appeared. It started with Mark. His whole body
glowed a big bright white color, then it turned ta this cool glowin'
blue. And then the salt next ta him glowed blue, and the glow
traveled down the salt line, turnin' it all blue glowin' lines-like,
and then, it hit Richard and he turned blue, and then, it went down
the other line and hit Ted and he turned blue, and then it went down
the last line and...
Uh-oh. OK, then the blue glowin' tried to go past the end of the
salt line where it broke 'cuz I had run outta salt. Annnnnnnnd...
well. Well, it didn't work. It sparked like crazy and big scary arcs
of like, fire behaving like electricity went sparkin' over the gap
between Mark and where the salt-line stopped. And then, well, that
sparkin' connection stayed, and with a big, "FWOOMP!" all the glows
turned bright, fuckin' red-hot sexy red colored, and the glow rose
up into these big glowin' walls, like, I could see through them but
they looked solid too, and, uhm, yeah, so I was stuck inside this
glowin' red triangle shaped walled energy fire thing. Yeah.
OK so anyway. Yeah. OK. I concentrated reeeeeeal hard 'cuz somewhere
in my foggy brain I knew I needed Hunny-Bear reeeeeeal bad. And so,
all of a sudden, the honey-bottle underneath me, it rattled and
danced and went swoopin' into the air and then "FWOOMP!" again and
this big Hunny-Bear appeared holdin' the honey-bottle! And he was
kind-of see-thru, and kinda looked like TV static in spots, and he
was glowin' red.
"I am Sunny-Nair, the current Wight-Head of the Second Circle of
Hell. How may I *skrrrrrrr* sist you in your *skrrrrrr* mortal
needs, summoner?" He was like Hunny-Bear, but bigger, an' meaner
lookin', and he had a big bushy white beard and big bushy white
eyebrows, an' he wore a big black robe instead'a a T-shirt, and his
big huge cock stuck out his robes and made me sooooo horny. I didn't
get a chance to reply yet 'cuz he looked around: "Your *skrrrrr*
nection is terrible, mortal, what have you *skrrrrrr* with the salt
*skrrrrrrr*?"
"Uhm," I said meekly, an' he looked down as if noticin' me fer the
first time. I concentrated SOOOOOOOO hard so I wouldn't sound dumb
when I asked him fer a Hunny-Bear, and my brain came back into
focus, a little bit. "Uhm, I kind of ran outta salt." I said
sheepishly.
"Ran out of *skrrrrr* lt? What kind of *skrrrr*-shit ritual is this,
when you don't even bother checking your salt *skrrrr* plies before
you start?" he ranted. Before I could respond, he took a deep
breath: "Sorry, the *skrrrrr* is giving me Heaven today, what with
all the *skrrrr* making lust in short supply this week due to
*skrrrrr*. Stupid holiday. Anyway, what request have you, mortal?"
"I need a Hunny-Bear." I said, meekly.
"A Hunny-Bear? What the fu *skrrrrrr* is a *skrrrr*-Bear?" He
paused. "Oh, my. You mean you want a Hollows-Wight servant, and
you've met Hunny-Bear." He smiled.
"No, well yes," I babbled, "But, uhm, Hunny-Bear, uhm, he got, they
killed him."
He looked shocked. "Is THAT why Hunny-Bear *skrrrr* in *skrrrrrr*? I
thought *skrrrrr* but that news is *skrrr* ful indeed, he was one of
our finest *skrrrr* currently in the mortal realm. Who dared to slay
one of my Hollows-Wights?"
I pointed around me in a circle, indicating the three glowing boys.
"Ummm, them, which is why I thought I'd offer them to you in
exchange for a new Hunny-Bear."
He laughed. "What a lovely idea, young *skrrrrr* child with the
*skrrr* normous tits." Then a series of agonized screams intertwined
with deep, lusty moans echoed in the background. "Hold on," he said
curtly, "I need to attend to this and select a Hollows-Wight for
you." Then he walked "away", which for me just meant his image got
smaller.
I played with myself absent-mindedly for a few minutes, feeling
impatient and really nervous. Then he came back. "OK. I boosted the
torment-aura going to the flux capacitor, so I should be able to get
rid of that interference problem. Anyway, I'm sorry, but we simply
don't have any Hollows-Wights to spare right now." My face dropped
in shock. No! "Sorry, lady. It's lean times for the Second Circle
right now. F'you had asked me for an imp in 1960, even 1970... I'd
give you three, we were doing so good up here. Nowdays..." He shook
his head. "The Seventh, Eigth, and Ninth circles have been doing
great the last few decades though, you might want to try asking them
for an imp."
"No!" I cried. "I need a Hunny-Bear real bad!"
He looked at me crossly. "Oh, you want Hollows-Wight nectar, then.
You're one of those types, those occult drug farmers." He seemed
really scary. I quivered.
"No," I said meekly, "I just need his help."
"Sure, sure. Listen, I don't have time to deal with your eyeblink
lifespans and other mortal crap that you worry about. I will gladly
take these souls - thanks a ton, we're behind on quota and the
succubi are riding our asses (literally) - but you're not getting an
imp, we got none to spare." I started crying. "Aw, there there," he
continued, and I looked up hopefully.
His face turned into a casually disinterested expression as he
looked at a clipboard. "But you know, Hunny-Bear was a key portion
of our fell-management scheme in your sector of the mortal plane.
His absence has caused our charts to go crazy and all sorts of
fluctuations are showing up. Those damn leaking-meadows just can't
function without proper supervision. So you know, even though I
can't spare any, we really do need a Hollows-Wight out there."
I perked up further. He was going to give in! Yay! It must have been
the tears, I smirked inwardly. Cute girls crying could even move
demons and imps.
He smiled wryly. "So I'm going to take these nice souls here, and in
exchange, provide your area with a Hollows-Wight." I nodded rapidly,
happily, jiggling my boobies wildly. I waited for a Hunny-Bear to
show up. Instead the Wight-Head just continued with casual
indifference: "So thank you for your time, thank you for choosing to
use Hell for all your occult needs, et cetera, and so on. I really
need to get back to my duties. Enjoy these ones, you'll have 'em a
long time!"
I frowned. He disappeared. The red glow faded out of the chalk
lines, and a dull yellow glow emerged from the heads of Richard,
Mark, and Ted, pulsing away from their bodies and down the salt
lines. The yellow glows then swerved into the center of the triangle
and swirled around before fading into thin air. The room went
silent. I huddled in the eerie cold and quiet that had suddenly
descended. The sound of the boys' breathing had stopped. A light
wind drifted through the apartment and rattled the half-open slider.
I started crying again. I didn't mean to do that to them, even
though they had killed Hunny-Bear! And now I didn't even have a new
Hunny-Bear! I looked at my huge titties. I was stuck with them
forever and now I'd keep gettin' dumber and become some useless slut
with no brain and I'd never get satisfied 'cuz I'd never have Hunny-
Bear and... I sobbed, and sobbed.
- XXXX -
A few minutes later, the salt-lines suddenly flared up into a
furious, incredibly bright red, scaring me. I looked around
frantically. The Wight-Head suddenly popped into view in front of me
in a swirl of sensuous flames; he wasn't transparent or reddish now,
he looked like he was really next to me. His cock was erect. I
looked up at him fearfully, he looked down at me with wild eyes and
a casual smirk: "PEEK-A-BOO!" he shouted, and I screamed. He waved
one stubby arm-paw in an elaborate swirl, causing iridescent, lilac-
green flames to dance into existance in the air wherever his motion
passed by. I realized the flames were flying toward me. I tried to
back up, but my giant tits slowed me down way too much. The flames
touched me, igniting my body, and I screamed.
The Wight-Head cackled, and then vaporized in another swirl of
flames, his laughing continuing to echo as it faded. The glow of the
salt-lines died down and the salt itself sizzled and evaporated. The
flames roiling over my body didn't burn like heat. Instead they
felt... they felt... they felt like every inch of my skin was an
ejaculation wanting to happen, but stopped at the last second. That
horrible, desperate, infuriating itching for release. It coated
every inch of me. It was maddening. My mind exploded under the
stress and I screamed. Suddenly I could stand up, somehow, and I
fled from the apartment, bursting through the front door and leaping
off the balcony, desperately looking for a way to end the maddening
flames that were consuming my body, eating deeper and deeper into
it. I kept screaming, "Help me!" over and over again.
I kept running, not knowing where, just trying to run somewhere,
anywhere. As I ran across the street I realized why the apartments
had looked so familiar: they were the ones right on the edge of
town, right across from the forest. The Forest! The whole reason I
was suffering now! I screamed louder as the itching frustration
carved its way deeper and deeper into my body, rending my mind,
splitting apart my soul. I fled into the forest blindly, I ran
forever, running, running, with nowhere to go but a desperate need
to keep moving, a desperate hope I'd find someone to put the flames
out.
Suddenly, I was at the meadow. The Meadow! How? Had I run so long?
Time had lost all meaning as I was consumed by the agonizing
eldritch heat. I stumbled, rolled down a slope, past a broken, dirty
cell phone, into the grasses and flowers, and found myself staring
into the creepily-blue stream of the Leaking Meadow. I saw my face.
No, actually, I didn't! That wasn't my face! Not any face I'd had
any time recently, even with all transformations! I screamed, and
screamed, and screamed some more.
My face was Hunny-Bear's. No, not quite. It was almost like Hunny-
Bear's, but with big fat cartoonishly girly lips on my thin little
mouth, and sexy eyelashes extending off my beady little eyes. I was
smooth-headed like him, though. I stood up, fighting through the
tormenting flames, to take a look at my body. It was tiny and just
like Hunny-Bear's, except I had a gigantic pair of titties for my
3'5" body - not as bad as I had been right before the summoning
ritual, I could actually move with these - but still big tits for
such a little ... bear? They were casually covered by a blood-red
camisole which allowed their fat sexy nipples to poke through. No
giant cock emerged between my stubby little legs; instead huge,
ludicrously puffy pussy lips hinted at what lay there. Other than
these features, I was the spirit-and-image of Hunny-Bear. There were
still a few lingering human features - like fingers, instead of
stubs, at the end of my little arms - but the flames were rapidly
lapping away at all of them.
I screamed, again, loud and bloodcurdling, terrified. Then the
infuriating digging of the flames kept carving at me, carving at my
mind, carving at my body, and I began running again, running
blindly, looking for salvation anywhere. Time blurred again, and
suddenly I found myself in familiar ground... I found myself looking
at Oak-House. I had vowed never to come back here, never to face the
guilt over Hunny-Bear, the Oak-House being like a gravestone...
I kept fleeing, blindly, as I felt the flames burn as deep as they
could and start coming out the other side, of my body, of my mind,
scouring me away, consuming me with that horrific itching
frustration, impossible lack of satisfaction and release... I
stumbled again, and tumbled down a slope. And then... the Barn! I
screamed at the agony of the flames, and shuffling from within the
Barn was heard. Desperate, I broke through the front door-gate, and
saw Moo-Girl, chained to the floor with a plethora of locks, bolts,
and other restraints. A simple dildo was lodged halfway into her
gaping pussy, a huge puddle of vaginal fluids under her.
Was this how the other Forest inhabitants had solved her horny
rampage? She looked up at me, confused, and lowed agonizingly,
pleadingly. Her tits were insanely swollen and stretched, looking
like they could simply burst from the pressure. Sad droplets rolled
out of the four nipples constantly, but she couldn't move her arms
or legs to try to increase the flow. She let out another agonized
low; I kept screaming at my own torment. I was overcome by sympathy.
I couldn't help myself, but perhaps I could save Moo-Girl...
I reached forward, to undo the complicated system of locks and
chains, and the flames extended from me without any will of my own.
They rapidly spread over the chains and melted them to nothingness.
Moo-Girl leapt up stiffly, desperately, lowing in both agony and
gutteral appreciation for freeing her. I reached out to touch her,
caress her side, reassure her - and the flames flared up, erupted
out of me, consumed Moo-Girl as well, and we both screamed in shock
as our worlds became searing white flashes of pure flame as we were
wholly consumed, and everything - sight, sound, thought - burned
away, whited-out, ceased...
But then, some long time later, I awoke. I found myself lying on my
back with my big tits sqooshed over my chest and draping down my
torso. I rolled over, feeling them jiggle and lurch, and also felt
my big damp pussy tingle at my rubbing thighs. Then I stood up,
feeling remarkably strong compared to the frail body I last
remembered trying to lug around crazily-oversized tits. I
reflexively smoothed-out my camisole and tugged it down to remove
any fabric wrinkles. My tits perked up in response and big fat
nipples tented it out.
I gasped as I looked over at Moo-Girl. She was not a Moo-Girl
anymore. She was a Moo-Man. A delightfully gigantic cock extended
out from her firm, muscled form; still starkly black-and-white, but
now as exaggeratedly hot and manly as she had once been
exaggeratedly womanly. Except... for her balls. Which weren't quite
balls. They were huge, to be sure, to go along with her giant cock.
But they were also tits. Big, fat, jiggling titties. They had no
nipples, though they were clearly titflesh.
I smiled. I understood. Moo-Man stirred, looked at me hungrily, and
instantly set about satisfying the empty, yearning feeling inside my
pussy with her new equipment. I realized that the relationship
Hunny-Bear had with Moo-Girl had been preserved. I would provide her
- him, I mean - sexual satisfaction, and in exchange, I'd benefit
when I relieved him of his milky burden.
And that's how it worked out. I live in the Oak-House now, I do all
the chores myself, I milk Moo-Man twice a day (often more if I'm
feeling horny... oh, he's a wonderful milking experience, mmmm), and
I'm friends with all the Forest inhabitants again. They've forgiven
me for slaying Sam the Spider in my ignorance, and being involved in
cluessly leading Hunny-Bear to his doom. I'm one of them now. I'm
free. I frolick naked whenever I wish, I operate on my own time, not
any calendar or clock other than the sunlight. I am with great,
fearless pleasure a female, with all the needs and desires that
entails. I am such a happy, happy little hunny-bear. Well, everyone
calls me Cunny-Bear. Hee hee hee.
- - -
AND that, my friend, is the story of how I came to be what I am now.
It sounds crazy to think it all started with a simple little hike,
on a beautiful day in May just like this one, that led to a peculiar
Meadow and a mystical affliction, that led to a magical Forest and a
charming Oak-House and a little friendly bear-creature that lived
there. And of course, it sounds craziest of all to think that so
much of that experience was motivated by that little bear's
strangely delicious, powerfully addictive hunny, that leaked from
his genitals so freely...
Well, actually, it doesn't sound very crazy to you, does it, my
friend? Oh, I have waited so long for a dear friend and companion to
share this lovely Oak-House with, the way I did with my Hunny-Bear
so long ago. Yes, I know you love it now too, my dear friend. That's
always how it ends up. No, no, don't stop licking... my pussy likes
it very much, and you need your medicine. That's it, yes, get all
that delicious medicine oozing out of my lovely pussy. Oh, my dear
friend...
I promise I'll not make same the mistakes my dear Hunny-Bear did,
never ever. I'll never let the people take you away from here, oh
no, never ever. I'll always keep you so very close to me. I'll
always make sure you have your hunny. Yes, that's right, you can
smile, friend. You're never going away...
Never ever.
END.