type “F” for Frankenstein

The room glowed in brief flashes of green, blue, and a faint white, the twin flat-panel monitors casting light into the otherwise dark room. Her face was motionless, but her eyes were not, darting from screen to screen as her fingers moved in a flurry on the keyboard. The hum of the two power-hungry computers beneath her desk filled the room, broken only by the hurried clatter of the keyboard. A half-empty coffee mug sat on the otherwise clear desk surface, the coffee long since cooled to room temperature. Bleary, wide eyes continued to pore over the code, line after line of complex function calls and nested methods.

She stopped only to check the clock. She had six hours left until she would have to stand before her professors and not only defend her project, but prove that the generous research funding had gone to good use. This was no longer a showcase of whitepapers, theories, or proof-of-concept works. She needed something substantial to show them. And so her fingers resumed their positions and she clattered away at the keys.

Victoria had a lot to prove, not only the youngest graduate of the university’s computer science program, but the first female graduate with the highest GPA, going for her master’s degree. It was easy for the other student to say she wasn’t the “right type,” or “nerdy” enough. Yet she would produce remarkable code, solve countless computing problems, and excel in all her classes. She met every effort with success, each more ambitious than the last. And it was a string of victories; until this one.

A database’s primary function is to retain data. And a good database will make it very easy to access the data. She’d gone much further than that. By using sophisticated algorithms, her databases were so fast they almost could predict what data you wanted. And with several lofty job offers waiting for her, she set even higher goals. Yet her project description was intentionally vague. “Rapid database access and intelligent interaction” was an abstract title to the professors who quizzically examined her introduction paper. To her, it meant she was going to map her brain.

It took the better part of six months, and endless trial-and-error before she got the database right. And then after that, three days of being connected to a machine designed to scan her brainwave patterns, day and night. After the contents of her brain (theoretically) were captured in the database, she had to make it do something, anything.

She finished typing and hit the button to begin the program. It was something she went through many times - she would wear the specially designed headband, the program would try to run, and via specially targeted magnetic impulses, she would access the data in her saved brain.

The headband fit snug, and she waited. The program’s routines had initialized, and she was waiting for something; anything. No errors showed up on screen, no diagnostic messages, nothing. And she sat in the dark, waiting.

Suddenly, she found herself lifting her head off the desk. It took a moment, maybe two, to get her bearings. She saw the screen in front of her, she felt the headband on her head. She rubbed her eyes and looked at the screen. The program’s window sat there, idle, the same as it had been before. The lack of sleep was finally getting to her. She needed a break.

The desk drawer held some caffeine pills, and she reached for it without looking. Reaching in, her hand bumped clumsily against the contents as she fished for the small bottle. Her hands brushed against something cold and smooth. Her fingers went past it, and then back to it. She grasped the object and brought it out of the drawer. It was her vibrator.

The chrome reflected the light cast by the monitors. She held it in one hand, and stroked it longingly with the other. And then, in a flash, she felt herself grow wet. Reaching down into her sweatpants, she found her panties suddenly damp.

Without warning, the screen began flashing codes, numbers, letters; a garbled mess washed across the window. And she felt her eyes widen.

It hit her body like a sudden jolt. More intense than a dream, more real than a flashback, she found herself in the backseat of her second boyfriend’s car. She felt his lips, his hands. She could smell his cheap cologne, mixed in with… popcorn? Yes, the movie theater. And then, yes, his hands wandering, between her thighs, rubbing her through the denim.

She sighed heavily then, and she sighed heavily now.

The code continued to scroll across the screen, and then, a blank again. She was suddenly back in the chair, her shorts around her ankles, her shirt pulled up to her chin leaving her breasts exposed. She was able to blink once and look around, at her own half naked body before the screen filled up again.

This time it was dark. She was lying, she felt something warm, next to her - no, on her, and between her thighs - another past lover, yes, she remembered him, with the curly brown hair. And suddenly she felt warmth slide right over her clit. Her hips shook. Yes, he was so in love with licking her pussy, and her hands went right to the head of curly hair and grasped it tight. The tongue flicking her clit before parting the lips and licking its way up her pussy. She cried out. The hot breath from his nose swirling on the sensitive skin on the insides of her thighs. The wet tongue he used to torture her pussy before fingering her. The fingers slamming in her pussy making lewd noises before his cock would finish her off.

She moaned as it seemed all three things, tongue, fingers, and cock, were on her pussy at the same time.

The screen cleared and went blank again. She was panting, her mouth dry. The panties were pushed to the side and her fingers were slick, lodged between her soft lips. Her other hand was on her breast, nipple between knuckles. She caught herself looking at the vibrator on the desk.

The code poured again on the screen, and she felt herself awash with memories. The images flashed before her eyes, playing only for an instant before melting into another memory. The bed, the flannel sheets. She gripped them tightly; she felt her arms tense and tighten. Looking down she saw his cock pushing its way deep into her. He was the older man, the one her girlfriends were jealous of as they exchanged hushed whispers at the bar. He was both gentler and rougher than her other lovers. He knew what he was doing, and taught her what felt good, both for him, and for her. He taught her to turn over and be fucked from behind, he taught her to clench her thighs together, to flex the muscles in her pussy as he would stand still with his cock deep in her. And at times, he would just fuck her without saying a word, his eyes dark and his passion burning.

He would slam himself deeper than any other man she fucked, and it scared her at first - she learned that she liked it. That she wanted desperately to feel his cock as deep as it could go, his pelvis pushing up and against her clit. Or was it his balls, swaying as he gripped her hips with both hands and stared down her bare back.

She swirled around the feeling of his cock penetrating her. Again. And maybe it wasn’t him, but the first boy she kissed in high school. Again. Was it that cute freckled boy she would bump into in the mall? Again. Her first boyfriend, who clumsily kissed and groped his way all over her body. Again. The older man. Again. The younger man. Again. She was fucked by them all, together, apart, individually, and at once. And she came, body slumped in the soaked seat of the chair, with her left leg folded back with the heel of her foot holding the vibrator deep in her pussy, her hands at her nipples, her mouth agape.

The screens went blank, no longer scrolling code endlessly. The room too, went quiet, save for the vibrator, which continued to hum, joining the droning sound of the computers under the desk, until finally, some time in the morning, the batteries ran out.

Many thanks to Z, who may not realize it, but did come up with the idea behind this story.

rapt

They had snuck off down the hall. The museum’s annual costume fund raiser party had been a fantastic success, and after the announcements were over, the attendees were busy dancing and drinking - the two of them would not be missed.

Nadia had seen him earlier, tall, olive-skinned, wearing the same costume as her. She was annoyed at first, just as bad as two women wearing the same dress to a party. But there was something about him…

“My costume is better,” Nadia heard a deep voice declare behind her. She turned to see that someone else had come as the same thing - a mummy.

She thought her last-minute costume was a brilliant idea. She’d run to the drug store and bought up about twenty rolls of cloth bandages, and boiled a cup of tea to dip them in. With the help of her roommate, she wrapped her bikini-clad body up, and voila, she was a mummy, with the browned bandages to help with the realism.

And standing in front of her now, grinning through the slits of the bandages wrapped around his head, an olive-skinned man with the exact same costume.

“How so?” she fired back arrogantly.

“For one, I covered my head,” he answered.

Yes, she’d left her head unbandaged. And she didn’t care, she wanted to be able to see during the party. She left her jet-black hair, flowing over her shoulders. And it’s not like her face was untended to; she’d gone and affixed heavy eye-liner, for that “Egyptian” look on her eyes. She quite liked it. This man seemed to as well. He brought her drinks. He complimented her. They danced, they flirted, and now, they found themselves taking a turn down the empty hallway and over to the Egyptian exhibit.

“It’s only appropriate,” he said, as he pinned her body against one of the large pillars.

She felt his body press up against hers, the bandages rubbing against each other, making a rough scraping sound. But more than anything else, she felt the heat rising from his body - and her own. His lips were dry, but hot. They pulled and tugged at hers, they sucked and caressed. She wrapped her arms around him and pushed her hips up and into his. He noticed.

“Someone might still walk by,” he broke the kiss to say. And then he looked over at the faux temple, in the middle of the large room. “Mmmm, some privacy over there,” he suggested.

She ran first, up and onto the raised exhibit, as he trailed behind. She giggled and laughed as she ran, the bandages now slipping and coming undone from her waist. She reached the temple first, the tiny interior room made from fake sandstone blocks. He was there an instant later, grabbing on the loose bandage, using that to yank her back to his body.

“Your costume is already coming undone,” he said, as he pulled and spun her around. Her waist was now bare, and he fell to his knees, kissing the bare flesh. She sighed at the contact, and felt his arms circle her, pulling more and more of the bandages off. Her bikini bottom was now exposed, and his mouth toying with the waistband.

“Oh…” he said, making her look down at him. “That’s cheating.”

She cocked her eyebrow. “What do you mean?” and then, knowingly, “Well what do you have under your bandages?”

He leaned back, and raised himself to a sitting position on the altar, right where the sarcophagus lay. The bulge in the bandages was noticeable. She kneeled forward, and then began to peel back his bandages. She was marveled at just how many layers there were, as she continued to pull and tear away, looking up at him with lusty eyes.

And then, finally, skin. And nothing else.

She was shocked that he would be bare nude under his costume. “Authentic,” she said, as her hands went to his cock. She grabbed it tight, making him wince just a little. It twitched under her grip. It twitched again, right as she placed her mouth over the head.

He leaned back and sighed as she sucked him in her mouth, those eyes again up to look at him. She grabbed his balls and tugged down, making him wince again. She was surprised to feel his hands on the side of her head, pulling her off of him. Back on their feet, he began tearing away at her bandages, now revealing all of her ass, all of her breasts, leaving her arms, stomach, and legs wrapped. The bikini was shed. She tore at his bandages, revealing rippling muscles on his arms, chest, and around his midsection.

There was something exotic about him, his tanned and olive skin, his physique, his presence. She clung to his body, his cock up and rubbing between them. Her imagination ran wild, the two of them as lovers in ancient Egypt, meeting up under the harvest moon on the banks of the Nile. Or were they lovers reunited in the afterlife, now tearing apart their bandages, finally able to join each other in eternal ecstasy?

She wanted him.

She pushed him back, and onto the altar. His ass cheeks made contact on the cold stone, and she quickly pushed against his body. And climbed on top, her ass now slowly lower herself onto him. He gasped as she lowered herself down, down, down, until her weight was on his hips. Rocking back and forth, she leaned down to kiss him again, and again, those dry lips.

She could feel him clenching and unclenching his ass, those tiny movements rippling up his cock, and into her pussy. Her eyes closed, and she leaned back upright before making her own movements, pushing herself up and down. It wasn’t long before she was bouncing, her breasts jiggling and jumping as her ass landed on his hips.

His hands reached up, grabbed her breasts, and held tightly. She placed her hands over his, and continued to bounce, to rock, to grind. He sat himself up, and placed his mouth on her nipple, sucking on them gently, lapping at her soft skin. She pressed his head into her chest, her body no longer in the recreated temple in the museum, but in Egypt now, surrounded by the night and the desert sands.

She felt her body being lifted up, as he got to his feet, still inside her, with no effort. She felt the cold stone on her ass, as he had lifted her up and onto the sarcophagus. He was now in the position to do the pushing, and dove in and out of her pussy. She pressed her nails into his back, felt her breasts against his hard chest, and heard his voice in her ear.

“… An eternity, waiting for this?” the half question coming to her in a whisper.

“Yes, please yes,” she answered, feeling her pussy building an orgasm, around his cock.

She felt herself go limp, her body shaking as her pussy exploded around his cock. She felt him cum into her, his cock jerking inside her. She felt him fall onto her, his arms wrapping around her, her arms wrapping around him.

Her breath was ragged, gasping for air, yet his chest remained solid, hard, motionless. She lay there for a moment, waiting for him to move. He did not. Her body began to cool, the heat slowly fading into the cold stone. She waiting some more.

Pushing against him now, she half slid him off, half slid herself under. His body was stiff. His skin was dry. Finally freed, she shook his shoulder. And then she turned him over.

She got one good look before shrieking in fear. His skin was dry and leathery, his body stiff, the muscles shrunk down to the bone, the bandages browned not with tea, makeup, or dirt, but with age. His costume really was better than hers.

hot chocolate

And now, for something completely different.

Swiss Miss and I found ourselves at a Starbucks catching up with a few of the things we’ve been up to. I swear, they not only broke, but incinerated, ground up, and then threw the ashes of the mold she was made from to the four corners of the earth. The weather has gotten quite chilly in New York, and she wore only jeans and a t-shirt. No jacket, but a scarf, since she admitted it was chilly. Yes, I agreed it was quite chilly, as I stared down the hint of nipples poking through her bra.

She was surprised to learn that it was my birthday in a week. We’d been chatting via texts, im’s, emails, phone. I could have sworn I had told her.

“[six] don’t be silly, you told me nothing,” she said, her melodic German finding its way through the cracks in the words. “We must do something special.” Her foot stroked my leg underneath the table. A couple a few tables to our side noticed.

I asked her what constituted as being “special.” She thought about it for a second, her hands clasped together under her chin, her eyes up and to the left. Then, back on me.

“Tuesdays are no fun, [six], no. So we celebrate early. Saturday. I will come over, bring presents, make you lunch, we go out, maybe spend time at the park. Then we come back. I will make you dinner. We fool around. I will make you hot chocolate, naked. It’s very Suisse.”

I nearly dropped my cup of coffee as she giggled.

step 1: cut a hole in the box

The hot apple cider was most definitely spiked. From the slight burn, Marcy guessed vodka. Diane speculated that it was Grey Goose.

They’d arrived a few hours later than most of the attendees, and for good reason: Marcy’s grass skirt would not stay on, and she didn’t want to suddenly have a bare ass. Not that it’d be a bad thing, Diane had said, before giving it one final slap as they left their apartment. And it was how they arrived, arm in arm, a Hawaiian hula girl in grass skirt and coconut bra, and a Roman gladiator-ette with a very short and low-cut toga.

Diane was annoyed they had missed bobbing for apples - Marcy joked (a little too loudly) that Diane would have won given her talent at keeping her mouth wide open. And so the two of them partied on, the cider downed, and cute boys flirted with. Then the host and hostess, dressed as French nobility (really stunning costumes, Diane noted), announced another game.

A white box was brought out, about an arm length in each direction. It was placed on a round table with a black satin tablecloth. The game was deceptively simple. The player would be blindfolded, and allowed to reach into the box, and then he or she would have to announce what was inside. “Can’t be that hard,” Marcy found herself saying, a bit too loudly.

First up was a baseball player. He removed his hat, and a black blindfold was covering his eyes. The lid of the box was lifted, and the nearest guests peered in, trying to get a look. The hostess quickly scolded them.

“Now, now, let’s just watch the look on his face - don’t ruin the fun!”

The baseball player reached in with one arm, moving his arm around at first, searching, scanning. And then his hand seemed to touch the contents of the box. He frowned at first, then smiled. Then frowned again.

“It’s soft… and… ” he started. “Wriggling around? I feel… like… it’s… a box of worms?”

Marcy and Diane both were on their tiptoes, looking like they were attempting to peer into the box; they were in reality, checking out the baseball player, his uniform clinging to his body, especially his muscular legs, and the lump in his crotch.

“It’s got to be a box of worms, I can feel them moving,” the baseball player said, and the host leaned forward, and looked down, then back up to the audience, shaking his head but not saying a word.

The baseball player was wrong, and the box was tilted and shown to everyone - it was filled with what looked like giant spaghetti noodles. Grit and dirt were added for realism.

“I could swear it was moving against me,” the baseball player exclaimed, to chuckles and general merriment amongst the guests. And then, it was Diane’s turn.

Another box was brought out, and the blindfold was affixed, then the box top removed. Diane reached in.

“Ew gross!” her first words stirred laughter. “Round… slimy… ew, did I say ‘ew’ already?” More laughter. Marcy was by her side, and was now getting into the game.

“C’mon Diane, what is it?”

Diane continued to feel around. “There’s like this stringy thing in there too, it’s all slimy like snot, Todd, you’re sick” she said, addressing the host to more laughter and cheers. “These are like… eyeballs?”

They were olives. The slimy snot-like material was a lightly minced jello. Marcy laughed the hardest, very amused by this game.

Todd and his hostess turned to her. “Would you like to try?”

Marcy nodded, gulped the last of the cider in her glass, and proclaimed, “Bring it on!”

The other box was discarded, and a new box was produced. The blindfold went over Marcy’s eyes. Blackness. And she could still hear the party around her, hushed now as they awaited her responses. And then the feel of the cardboard, a slightly waxy coating, and then reaching down and in, finding the corner. Empty. Then moving her hand around, slowly now. And then, something soft.

“It’s soft!” she announced, a few chuckles here and there. She continued to touch it, and found out that she could wrap her fingers around it. She gave it a squeeze. In fact, the one thing she was glad of was that it wasn’t slimy. It was actually quite dry. Almost spongy, but warm, and soft… and suddenly her grip was loosening - she squeezed again to make sure, but it almost seemed to bounce back against the pressure in her hands; was it getting harder? She let go and continued to feel around, moving gingerly, the surface still remaining the same, somewhat soft, dry, but no longer spongy - it was getting harder. Stiffer.

“Is it getting harder?” Marcy herself couldn’t help giggle.

Her fingers moved up and found a ridge. And then a smoother texture… and a tip? Rounded and with a nub, no, was it? No…

“Is this… a cock?” Marcy asked, this time, with no answer. No sounds at all, and she suddenly got worried. “Okay this is just weird, is this a dildo?” she asked, to no one. She reached in with her other hand now, and with both arms in the box, she felt around and yes, for all she knew, it was a cock, growing quite stiff with her moving her hands up and down. There was pubic hair at the base, she could feel veins running up the shaft, and the head, spongy-hard and was that, a slickness on her thumb, was that pre-cum?

“Okay, this is a cock, and somebody say something!” she took her hands out of the box and reached for her blindfold. She tore it off her head and blinked her eyes. Blackness.

She could not see.

Panic hit her immediately and she flailed her arms around - “Diane, what the fuck- Todd? Angela? What is going on?!”

Silence, and darkness.

Marcy became worried. Suddenly feeling very small, very afraid, and very alone. There was no sound, there was no light, and there was nothing. She felt herself take steps forward, backwards, to the side, she reached down to touch the floor, to feel around for the carpet, for something - anything. She screamed, she yelped, she felt the tears coming down the sides of her face, she felt her own body to make sure it was still there, she felt herself pinch her arm.

She began to sob, back on her feet, wiping away her tears with the backs of her hands. And then, the box. She felt the box, the waxy-smooth-stiff cardboard. She felt the edges of the open top, she felt the corner and she reached in. She felt the cock - still warm, stiff, and spongy-soft at the tip. And she felt the last thing she had felt before she was engulfed in darkness.

She gripped it tightly now, with both hands. She demanded to know what was going on. She demanded answers. She swore, spat, squeezed. She dug in with her nails, she raked it up and down, she pinched. And yet she felt the cock still there. The tears didn’t stop rolling down her cheeks. And with her head down, defeated, deflated, she pulled. And suddenly the edges of the box were gone.

The cock in Marcy’s hands felt weightless, it floated effortlessly up and she sniffled in her confusion. She held it in one hand while reaching around for the box for the other. It was gone. And then back to the cock, she gripped it and moved her hands all over, stumbling at the base, finding the coarse pubic hair, the warm balls. It was all she had left.

Holding it tightly with both hands, she felt herself bringing it to her mouth. The warm cock head rested on her lips. And she slowly took it in.

She concentrated on the feeling, her eyes meeting only with darkness. The cock slid in easily into her mouth, and she ran her tongue up and down, over the top of the head, and underneath. She held the base as she moved her head back and forth. She fondled the balls and took one into her mouth as she stroked the cock, slick with her spit. She felt herself get wet.

The cock back in her mouth, Marcy reached down to the grass skirt and felt it slip off her hips, and around her ankles. She untied the straps of her tie-on bikini bottom and those too fell, and she leaned back, now somehow seated - no, lying down. And she sucked, taking the cock deep in her mouth, one hand moving to her puffy pussy lips.

And then she felt it move.

She let go but the cock seemed to hover in the darkness, and then pull in and out by itself. She felt a pressure hold her head steady as the cock began to speed up and fuck her mouth. More pressure, now at her breasts, the coconut bra lifted up. Marcy’s hands went to her pussy, where another pressure started pushing up against her slit. She gasped as the unseen hands went to work on her body, kneading her breasts, pushing against her pussy.

Marcy moaned, mouthful of cock. She tried to lift her hips against the pressure on her pussy, she tried to reach the invisible hands on her breasts. The cock in her mouth pulled out, and Marcy whimpered as it left her lips. She cried out for it, she yelled in the darkness. And then she felt something between her legs. Her hands shot to her pussy, and found the cock again. Greedily she grasped the shaft, she pulled it to her and herself towards it.

Pussy lips spread apart, it pushed in. Marcy bit her lip as she was stuffed. She gyrated her hips, she rocked her butt back and forth, she arched her back. And the cock sat stiff and buried in her pussy. Then it moved. It pulled back and pushed in, scraping gently upwards against her g-spot. Marcy’s hands went to either side and stretched her pussy open, inviting, welcoming this phantom cock. She wanted it to fuck her, to fill her, and it drowned her sense of touch.

Suddenly she was on her hands and knees, feeling the cock enter her from behind, the pace steady. She felt the pressure on her ass cheeks with every downward thrust, the pressure on her breasts, a heat on her back. She felt her arms give way, her face and shoulder against the ground. She felt her ass being spread apart, the cock pushing deeper. She felt her fingers reach her clit, she felt her wetness on her fingertips. She felt a pressure right on her ass, and then the sudden jolt as it was penetrated. She felt the cock continue to pound into her pussy, her pussy throb, her clit burn. She felt the cock twitch, her pussy clench, and her ass pucker around whatever was in it. She felt the hot splash deep in her pussy, the wash of pleasure ripple through her body, her knees give out. She felt it all.

“Marcy!”

Diane’s voice piercing through the darkness. Marcy opened her eyes and felt the fabric of the blindfold on her. She tore it off and was flooded by what she could finally see and hear. Her hand in the box. The guests all staring at her. She dumbly stood still before noticing that her grass skirt had fallen off her curvy hips and lay on the floor around her ankles.

“Oh my God,” she cried out as she quickly picked it back up and into place, face beet red. She ran for the bathroom, to affix the skirt back, Diane only a step behind her. As the two girls got into the bathroom, Diane shot her a look, “What the fuck happened out there?”

Marcy felt it warm between her legs as she ran. She didn’t pay attention to Diane - she had lifted the grass skirt, and reached down with her finger.

“For real, girl, what the fuck…” Diane stopped mid-sentence, as she saw what Marcy was doing.

On her fingertip, something shiny, something wet; Marcy had swiped up a drop of cum. And placed it right in her mouth.

Many thanks to Ms. Tara Tartly for the idea behind this story.

these witching hours

“And you’re still fine with it?” Fiona asked her sister.

“Yeah, he can get rough…” Selena answered, fingering the bruises on her arms tenderly. “But I know he loves me. And it’s not like he won’t stop when I say no.”

Fiona eyed her the bruises. She closed her eyes and flashed the vision of her sister’s boyfriend, Andy, over her, big hands pinning Selena down, a grip tight enough to create those bruises.

“Have you thought about…” Fiona trailed, cautiously surveying the surroundings, to make sure no one in the supermarket was in earshot before speaking again, “witching him?”

Selena was the sweetest witch Fiona had known. She was so innocent, so trusting, so giving, so loathe to use her powers. And at times Fiona wanted to ask their mother if Selena had been adopted, or if she simply wasn’t fit for witching.

“No, I couldn’t do that,” Selena answered. And it’s true, Selena would use her powers sparingly - and when she did, it would never be for such a selfish reason. She never looked at her sister with jealousy either; Fiona certainly had no problems using her powers and spells for her own gain, dressed in the fanciest shoes, wearing expensive jewelry, and always glamorous. Compared to her, Selena looked very plain, tennis sneakers, blue jeans, her personality shining brighter than her appearance.

Selena’s purse buzzed - it was Andy on the phone. He wanted her to pick up some beer while she was there, and that he didn’t want to go out to dinner tonight, that she should “get whatever” and cook at home. Fiona’s eyes narrowed and she scowled.

“That man needs to be taught a lesson,” she said as Selena closed her phone and placed it back in her bag. “You know, I’d love to show him who he’s fucking with…” her voice burning with anger at the way Serena was treated. “You could always…”

“No, Fiona.” Serena spoke firmly. She turned to look at her sister. “I’m not going to do anything like that, and you know it.” And that’s how it was - Fiona would cast her spells at a whim, Serena would contemplate hers. Fiona always called her sister a waste of magic, and in many ways, it was true.

They had walked out to the parking lot before Fiona brought it up again. “Selena, I’m fucking serious - he needs to be taught a lesson.” She held her sister’s arm, but pleadingly this time.

Selena thought about it. The bruises hurt, he treated her rough, and it would it really hurt for him to be nicer? “I… well…” she stammered.

That was all Fiona needed to hear. She spoke comfortingly, “Selena, dear, you’ll do it in your own time.”

Of course, Fiona would made sure that the time came sooner than later. And later that night, after the couple had dinner (which Selena cooked), cleared off the table (which Selena did while Andy watched Sportscenter), and drifted off to sleep (after Andy made sure Selena serviced him), a black cat snuck its way up to the bedroom window and peered in. Its eyes twinkled green. And then she waited.

Selena woke up, and felt the need to go to the bathroom. She blinked once or twice, slowly waking enough to slide her legs off the side of the bed and trudge over to the bathroom. Andy snored without stirring. Selena reached the bathroom, closed the door, and sat on the toilet. And let out a scream.

The cat raised its head and tried to look in; the light in the bathroom spilled from the crack on the floor. It knew what Selena had cried out about.

She was standing in front of the mirror, looking down between her legs, her hands holding… a cock. She scowled and spoke low and fast. Fiona what the fuck did you do to me?!

The cat’s eyes sparkled again. Selena, shut up. Don’t question me!

Selena found herself strangely holding the flesh in her hands. She saw the soft balls below, and held them gingerly. Well, now what?

The cat answered. Maybe you should show Andy…

Selena’s eyes went to the door, as if she could see right through it and to the slumbering boyfriend. You didn’t!

The cat was motionless. Watching. Waiting.

Selena sat back on the toilet - she needed to pee. And with the strangest feeling ever, she stood up, and decided to try it out. She washed her hands, turned off the light, and had decided she liked it her way better.

Andy had rolled over onto her side of the bed; he would often do that, hogging the sheets, rolling over and crowding her during the night. In fact, as she stood there, watching him snore, there were many things she wasn’t entirely happy with. Not to mention that he would often want her to go down on him, and then complain that he was too tired, that he had to wake up early - leaving her very frustrated. Standing there, she felt that frustration build. And suddenly, she felt the fabric of her panties become very tight - she had her first erection.

The cat watched intently. Selena shot it a look - don’t laugh at me!

Andy rolled over, onto his back. And the blanket slid as he moved, revealing his boxer shorts. Selena reached out - curious. Her hand slid into the fly, and reached his furry pubic hair… she felt the skin, searching now… and… nothing. Andy stirred a little, and his hand moved down, finding hers. He felt her hand, and then opened his eyes.

“What is going on?” he asked, wondering why in the world his girlfriend would be standing, hand in his boxer shorts.

The cat sat on its hind legs now; face pressed to the glass.

Selena realized what her sister had done. And maybe it was that she was fed up, maybe it was that the way Andy treated her was enough, maybe it was just that she now had a hard-on and the desire to get off - she snapped.

“What’s going on,” her voice cool and stern, “is that you’re missing a little something between your legs - and I’ve got a little extra in mine.”

Andy’s eyes shot open and his hand went further into his pants. He soon had both hands searching. It was like a bad dream. Yet for Selena, she saw this as the exact opposite of a nightmare. The cat meowed. And Selena stepped forward, now kneeling on the bed.

Andy shrunk back, realizing that the bulge in her panties… the void in his boxers… he backed up and further back, knocking over the lamp on the nightstand. Selena looked towards it, and then to him.

“Scared?” she asked. She drank in the sudden shift in power. Andy would wake up fully though, surprise yielding to anger. Selena had to act quick. She spoke hushed words, and Andy felt himself weaken… his movements were all slowed, his limbs heavy, leaden. Selena had reached him and put a hand to his face.

“You treat me like shit,” she said bluntly. “And even tonight, you made me suck your dick - and did you do anything for me… now how is that fair?” Selena’s voice was cold. It was vengeful. “Maybe it’s because of this little…” she let out a giggle, “cock.”

Andy couldn’t fight back - and found himself under Selena’s control. She made him kneel forward, she pulled his head close, and pushed her cock in front of his face. “C’mon baby,” Andy’s words now her own, “suck daddy’s cock.”

The feeling was so much different, Selena said to herself. The warmth was just different, as she felt the hot tongue wrap itself around the head. Mmmm, what was that, oh it must be that sensitive spot - Selena felt herself shiver, but it was very different than having her clit fondled. She felt a heaviness in the balls just dangling beneath that cock. She made sure that Andy reached out and held them firmly. And wide-eyed, paralyzed with fear, under Selena’s control, he massaged those balls, and sucked her cock.

The cat meowed.

“I feel like we’re almost even, Andy,” Selena said, eyes closed as she leaned back, his mouth now up and down her shaft. “But you know, I’m just so much of a nicer person than you are. And maybe you need to learn how a nice person should fuck.”

Andy stopped mid-motion. He felt Selena pull out and then grip his arms. She pushed him on his back, removed his boxers, and spread his legs. He looked down in amazement as the spot where his cock had been was gone. In its place was a mound. In its place, was a slit. In its place was a pussy.

Selena reached down and shot him a glance as she rubbed a finger right on the clit. Andy felt his legs tighten, his back wanting to arch. “You see how good that feels?” Selena asked. Andy was biting his lip. “Why did you stop doing that to me, Andy? Knowing how good it feels… do you know why I have to reach down and finger myself now that you don’t pay any attention to what I need…” Selena continued to rub, to prod, to move her fingers around in his pussy. “Don’t you understand that you could be doing just a tiny bit more… to make me happy… before fucking me?!”

She had positioned herself between his legs, and moved her cock closer. She thrusted forward and in one swift motion, buried herself deep in his pussy. Andy yelped at the feeling. Selena sighed and tried to understand, the tightness enveloping the cock, the textures of the pussy, everything that was different.

The cat watched as she fucked him.

Selena used sharp thrusts, telling Andy why those hurt, he bit his lip and nodded. She went too fast, too deep, Andy learned why it didn’t feel good. She neglected his clit, he found his arms crawling down to take care of it himself. Selena taught him many lessons.

And as she felt the tightness in her balls (such a strange feeling!), she wanted to know what it felt like to cum as a man. Her pace quickened, her body veiled in a mist of sweat. She held onto his hips and rocked back and forth before slamming herself in, over and over again. She let go only to rub his clit rough. “And last,” she said between gasping breaths, “you should know just how good it feels to cum together… and why I always wished we could.” Andy was lost, feeling everything different, his role reversed, flooded with her words, her thoughts, her cock. He nodded, he shook, he came.

And so did Selena.

She felt the first spurts from her cock, the twitching, the pressure suddenly erupting from her balls. She felt her cock being tugged, being pulled, being milked. She felt the release, the relaxation, and the result. And as she slid out, body now weak, she fell beside him, and looked him in the eyes before surrendering one last time, now under her terms.

The cat’s eyes twinkled again, and it leapt down from the window. Satisfied, it retreated back into the night. Fiona was smug, satisfied, successful. I’ll recant the spell in the morning, she thought to herself. She thought of what she had just seen, the shift not only in Andy, but in her sister. And she hoped it would last.

moonlit

She tossed and turned, the clock blared green, its face lit in digital: 3:21 AM. For fuck’s sake, she thought.

Dan had been away for three days, and he wasn’t due back for another three. The kids had been around, yes, and with them she wasn’t lonely. But as she let her arm drift over from between her legs onto his side of the bed, cold, empty, bare, she knew she missed him dearly.

They’d inherited the farmhouse three years ago, and although it was further than they had wanted to live,they made it work; Dan telecommuting, having converting a bedroom into an office, while Jill gradually scaled back her own career to spend time with the kids. Slowly but surely they fixed up the fences along the border of their farm, repaired the barn, and lent out the majority of the land to the neighboring farmers - who, planned to use it for fallow. While they did their fair share of cursing the remoteness of the countryside, they found themselves happier, healthier.

Dan would have to visit clients on occasion, and would drive the three hours to the airport, leaving Jill with the children - and while she hated it, she knew he had to go. The neighbors looked after her and the kids, checking in, and became cherished friends. There was never an incident, and they were only a phone call away. She was safe.

But she didn’t want safe. She wanted Dan. She would wake in the middle of the night, her hand stuffed in her panties, with visions of his face, his body against hers, his hands on her skin. The drawer next to the bed held her favorite toy, but it was not the same. She sighed as she reached over to it blindly, ready to submit to her desires.

And then she heard a howl.

It was close, almost too close, booming through the open window. They had never heard wolves, coyotes, or anything else in the area, even from the tree-line a few acres away. She held her breath, she lay still… waiting to see if it was just her imagination, her pussy still moist and laden with desire.

One hand between her legs, the other midway to the drawer, she felt her arm begin to tire - and as she started moving towards the drawer again, the howl returned. And it was very, very close.

The moonlight broke free of the clouds and poured in through the window. Jill was on her feet and peered outside cautiously, the phone in her hand. Her eyes scanned from the porch to the barn and back, looking for shadows, movement, anything. The barn door was left open, probably from the kids earlier in the day. She had told them to keep it closed, to keep from the few stray cats from making it their home. Another sigh. But then, movement. In a flash, a glimpse of… a naked girl? Bare back and ass reflecting the moonlight, for a second, then disappearing into the darkness of the barn. And as she stared at the door, she saw it close.

The neighbors had a teenage daughter - and she’d admitted to sneaking into their barn once to make out with a boy. Jill was sure to scold her in front of her parents, but later invited the girl over for a margarita - and they had a talk, not as a child and an adult, but as a woman and a girl. And she looked up to Jill like a big sister.

Jill smiled, imagining what must be going on for the poor girl to be hopping in their barn nude. And then, her hand back on her moist panties, she toyed with an idea… a stray thought now fueled by the slow circles she found her fingers making: she was going to spy on her.

With quick steps, Jill hurried across the dusty path from the house to the barn, wearing her robe and nightgown, feet swimming in Dan’s clunky boots. As she neared, she thought heard murmuring, and voices. A male voice and a female voice… and growling? Grunting? She wondered if it was the cute soccer player they’d talked about. She envisioned the tall, muscular teen nude, and shook her head at the taboo thought.

She rounded the barn, to the side door, and peered right in through the space between the door and the frame. Face pressed as closely as she could without splinters stabbing her face, her eyes widened. The moonlight cast a grayish blue glow. And in the middle of the barn floor, on the blankets the children had laid out earlier in the day, a man and a woman were having sex.

Jill watched intently, the woman on her hands and knees, eyes shut closed as the man knelt behind her, plunging his cock in and out of her pussy. They were both moaning, breathless, as they fucked. He had a firm grip on her hips, and slammed as hard as he could, again and again. Jill felt her mouth open. The woman’s arms trembled with each blow, shook, and crumbled, her face turning to the side as the man continued to lunge, his cock buried deep in her pussy. The woman grunted and moaned, the man growled and panted. They fucked like animals.

Jill suddenly noticed her hand had snuck beneath the nightgown - she rubbed her fingers, they were drenched. Her clit was swollen, full, and flush. Her breathing had increased, and she felt her knees grow weak. She was leaning forward, and used her hand to prop herself up, her other hand getting wetter, her pussy feeling hotter. And she felt herself continue to fall forward, despite her hand resting on… the… door?

She saw their eyes on her, wide and wild, their two bodies still joined in mid-fuck. The strangers looked at her, standing there in oversized boots, one hand in her panties, while she stared at them dumbly. It felt as if no one moved for an eternity.

And then without warning the woman ground her hips back, the man pushed forward, and slowly began again. Jill hadn’t moved her hand out of her panties, fingers pressed between her folds. And with their eyes on her as they moved in unison, slowly building up speed, she too slowly restarted the motion between her legs.

All three of them watched each other, and it wasn’t long before the man was grunting, the woman’s blinks became longer, and Jill’s mouth opened involuntarily. She found herself kicking the boots off, barefoot on the blanket, only inches away from the woman, her face back on the blanket. The man kept his eyes on Jill, peering right at her fingers. The woman would look too, in the precious few moments she could will them open.

Jill let her legs spread wider as she continued to rub her clit - secretly wishing she had brought her toy with her. And with those thoughts, she let her leg slide even closer to the woman. It was a dare - and the woman took it. She reached with her arms, hands touching Jill’s skin, sending shivers followed by the warm pressure of the embrace. Jill felt herself grow wetter with the contact, that first human touch. And then she felt herself being pulled closer.

The woman dragged Jill by the leg closer, the man behind her now slowing, Jill’s fears were drowned out by lust, her hand soaked. The woman’s head was now between Jill’s thighs. The woman nuzzled against Jill’s hand, gently at first, then more forcefully. The pressure just pushed Jill’s fingers deeper into her pussy, and she gasped, moaned, and cried out. Without warning, the woman bit, grasping the damp panties and tore them right off of Jill’s hips.

Exposed to the night air, Jill felt a chill on her pussy, but only for a moment. Her hand was pushed out of the way, and she felt the woman’s hot tongue plunge into her. Jill cried out, arched her back, and thrust her hips forward. She shut her eyes, clenched her fists, and desperately wanted more. The woman obliged, lapping with her tongue, stabbing with her tongue, biting gently with her teeth. Jill’s hands went to the woman’s head, fingers diving into the matted sweaty hair. She was trying desperately to hold the tongue there. And then the woman pulled away suddenly - leaving Jill yelping.

Eyes shot open, Jill saw the woman pushing her body on top of hers now. The woman brought her face to Jill’s and licked her with the same tongue that was just between her legs. Jill, too, let her tongue out, tasting the salty skin on the woman’s face mixed with the juices from her own pussy. Between licks, between breaths, Jill found herself still yelping, her pussy vacant, void of any attention. And then she heard the growl. She felt a presence growing closer, and then suddenly, she felt her pussy stretching wide.

The man had crawled up too, his cock no longer buried deep within the woman’s but now in Jill’s with one thrust. Jill gasped and arched her back again, pushing her abdomen up, her belly rubbing the woman’s wet pussy. The woman pulled back herself, startled by the sudden contact on her pussy. Jill yelped again, now feeling the man start his motions, cock jerking in and out of her pussy.

Faster. The man pushed faster and harder, fucking Jill deep. The woman growled as each thrust from the man pushed Jill’s belly up, rubbing the navel against her pussy.

Faster. Jill felt her arms go numb, limp, and the trembling building in her legs. The man continued to pound, mercilessly drilling, hips a blur. The woman continued to grind her pussy into Jill’s stomach, sliding on the layer of juices pouring out and over the skin.

Faster. The man growled and howled, grunted and grimaced - Jill felt her pussy shudder - the woman dug her nails into Jill’s breasts.

Jill felt the heat swell in her pussy, the contraction of her hips, the explosion of wetness on top of her stomach. And in the moonlit barn, she came.

* * *

As the first rays of the morning sun penetrated the cracks in the wood walls of the barn, Jill found herself reaching over to her left - where Dan would be. And finding warmth, she smiled. Her eyes slowly opened, her senses began to sharpen. She felt fur beneath her fingertips; this was not Dan. And the harsh fabric of the blanket beneath her; this was not her bed.

Startled, her eyes opened, and felt movement, the warm body pulling away from her. And as she realized where she was, the memories flooding back to her, she saw the two wolves, eyes wild, looking back at her one last time before turning and escaping through the side door of the barn.