"I just want a girl who's a total baddie, bro. Like – blonde, stacked, wears those little cropped hoodies. A girl who tells me what to do but then…" You'd make that obscene gesture with your hand, miming something your dorky roommate Mitchell did not need to see.
Mitchell – glasses, brown hair, built like a lamppost – would just stare at you from his desk, jaw tight, patience eroding like a cliff face.
"And she'd be, like, a bit stuck up? Bossy? The kind of girl who makes you fetch her stuff but then sucks your cock so good you see God—"
"Bro. Bro. I get it."
But he didn't just get it. He got fed up.
---
The hoody arrived in a package with no return address. Light blue, cropped, with GODDESS stencilled across the chest in hot pink. Mitchell pulled it from the wrapping with trembling fingers.
"A girl in my Lit class – she does… stuff. Wiccan stuff." He held it up. "She said this'll turn whoever wears it into exactly the kind of girl you won't shut up about."
You laughed. "Mate, you're not seriously—"
"I'm dead serious." His jaw set. "You want a bossy blonde baddie who gets everything she wants? Sounds pretty fucking hot from the other side, honestly. So I'm going to become her."
He pulled the hoody over his head.
---
Oooooh…
The fabric slid down his torso and clung – not like cotton but like something alive, something hungry. Mitchell gasped, and the gasp pitched upward, softening into a breathy moan.
"Mmmmmh— fuck—"
His shoulders cracked inward – pop, pop – narrow and delicate. His spine curved with a wet shhhhlick, hips flaring outward with a sound like knuckles cracking, pelvis widening into something made for low-rise shorts and thirsty DMs.
"Oh God— oh fuck my— ahhh—"
Brown hair lightened at the roots, bleaching platinum in streaks, then pouring down past his – her – shoulders like liquid gold. The glasses dissolved. The face beneath softened, sharpened, restructured – cheekbones rising, lips plumping, jawline refining into something that belonged on an Instagram explore page.
(This is… oh fuck this is actually… I'm getting so hot…)
His chest swelled – two mounds pushing outward against the GODDESS lettering, round and firm and perfect, stretching the fabric taut. His stomach flattened. His ass inflated with a obscene pop that made you flinch. Legs slimmed. Feet shrank.
And then the light blue shorts materialised – pink, tiny, riding high on thick hips.
Mitchell was gone.
In his place stood a girl – maybe 20 – with a slim build, blonde hair spilling over her shoulders, and a face that radiated the specific cruelty of someone who'd never been told no. She looked at you with playful, confident eyes and smirked.
Reality shuddered. You felt it – a ripple through the room, through your memories – and suddenly she wasn't your roommate anymore. She was Tiff. Your girlfriend. Six months. The girl who texted you demands at 2am and rewarded compliance with her mouth.
---
"Baby." Her voice was honey and vinegar. She flopped onto your bed, legs crossed, scrolling her phone. "I'm starving. Make me a sandwich. Turkey, extra mayo, cut diagonal – you know how I like it."
You blinked. "Tiff, I—"
"Now." She didn't look up. "And my psych essay's due tomorrow. You're doing the first three paragraphs."
"Tiff—"
She finally looked up. Those eyes – blue, sharp, dangerous – pinned you like a butterfly to a board. "You want me happy, right?" She bit her lower lip. Tilted her head. "Keep me happy and…" Her tongue traced her upper lip, slow and deliberate. "I'll keep you happy."
(God, he's already folding. This is going to be so easy.)
Your mouth went dry. Your cock twitched.
You made the sandwich.
---
Three hours later. Homework done. Sandwich made. Her laundry sorted. Her water bottle refilled twice because the first one was room temperature and she doesn't drink room temperature, obviously.
Tiff pushed you onto the bed.
"Good boy," she whispered.
She kissed down your stomach – slow, deliberate, each press of her lips a reward – and when she finally wrapped those plump lips around your cock, the sound she made was pornographic.
"Mmmmmh…"
You understood everything. Every bitchy demand, every eye-roll, every "fetch me this" – it was all foreplay. She was training you. And the payoff?
Oooooh… fuck…
Her mouth was hot, wet, relentless – tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing, blonde hair spilling over your thighs. She looked up at you with those cruel blue eyes and you saw it: she owned you. Completely.
You came so hard you forgot your own name.
She swallowed, wiped her lip, and smirked.
"Same deal tomorrow, babe. My laundry won't fold itself."
Simping after some neighbourhood princess. Sending gifts. Doing her coursework. Running errands. Grovelling at her feet like a desperate little puppy dog.
You told him he was delusional. A sucker. That Willow was stringing him along for attention and free labour. That no hot girl – especially one like Willow – would ever actually follow through on some insane bodyswap fantasy.
You were so fucking sure of yourself.
---
The text came at 11am. A photo. Your mate – in Willow's body – sitting on her bed in a black and white maid outfit. Corset cinched tight, heart-shaped cutout showing off cleavage that shouldn't exist on someone you used to play Xbox with. Long blonde hair straight and perfect. Full lips curved in a smirk you'd never seen on his face before.
Below it: "She actually did it. 24 hours. Anything she'd usually do. Her boyfriend's coming round at 2. Guess what I'm wearing? 😘"
You stared at your phone so long the screen dimmed.
(That's… that's not… he's actually–)
You scrolled up. Willow's Instagram. The same bed. The same neon sign reading "WILLOW" in glowing pink. The same mirrored furniture. The same everything – except now your best mate was sitting there looking like a fucking lingerie model instead of the scrawny nerd you'd known since secondary school.
Another text. A video this time. Thirty seconds of him – her – adjusting the maid outfit, running his hands over Willow's flat stomach, squeezing her tits through the corset. Breathing heavy. Eyes half-closed.
"These are SO sensitive. Been playing with them all morning. Willow said I can do anything she'd normally do and she ALWAYS dresses up for Brad. He's gonna be here in two hours. Gonna let him do whatever he wants."
"Should've simped harder, bro."
---
You threw your phone across the room.
Your cock was rock hard.
Fuck.
You tried to think about it rationally. Your best friend had swapped bodies with the hottest girl in the neighbourhood – a girl you'd secretly jerked off thinking about more times than you'd ever admit – and he was about to spend the afternoon getting railed by her boyfriend in a maid outfit.
And you'd spent the last month mocking him for it.
(If you'd just… played along. Sent the gifts. Done the tasks. Been a good boy instead of a cynical prick–)
Maybe that would be you in that corset. Maybe those would be your hands squeezing those perfect tits. Maybe you'd be the one waiting for Brad to arrive, already dripping wet, heart pounding with anticipation.
Another photo. This time he'd hiked the skirt up. Bare thighs. Lace stockings. A glimpse of smooth, waxed pussy – Willow's pussy – glistening slightly.
"Getting ready. Willow says Brad likes it when she's already wet before he walks in. Three fingers deep and counting. Wish you were here to watch, loser 😘"
"Actually no I don't. You were mean to me. Stay home and jerk off thinking about what you could've had."
---
2pm.
You imagined the doorbell ringing. Brad walking in. Your mate – in Willow's body – doing that little curtsy thing in the maid outfit. The way Brad's eyes would go dark. The way he'd grab her waist and throw her on that pink and white bed.
The sounds she'd make.
The sounds Willow makes.
You were stroking your cock before you even realised you'd unzipped. Eyes closed. Phone in one hand, dick in the other. That last photo burned into your brain – your best friend's new pussy, wet and ready, about to be filled by a man you'd never be.
I should have simped.
I should have simped so fucking hard.
A final text arrived. Just a voice note. You pressed play.
Willow's voice – breathless, giddy, unmistakably aroused: "He's here. Gonna go be a good little maid now. If you're sorry, Willow says she might do another swap next month. Better start being nice to her, babe. Mmmmmh… gotta go… Brad's waiting…"
The morning light through the cabin window hit your face like a slap. You groaned, rolling over – and immediately noticed two things wrong.
First: you were still a girl. The pill was supposed to last a week, so that tracked. The soft weight of your chest, the curve of your hips, the long blonde hair splayed across the pillow – all still there. Fine. Expected.
Second: between your legs, morning wood. Real morning wood. Your cock, hard and insistent, pressing against the silk sheets.
You threw the covers back and stared.
No pussy. Just… cock. On a girl's body. Your girl's body.
No. No, no, no–
"Oh my God," a voice giggled from the doorway.
You looked up. Your two mates – Ryan and Kyle – were leaning against the frame, already dressed in those plaid skirts they'd found in the cabin's closet. Both still blonde, still stacked, still looking like they'd stepped out of a fantasy. Ryan's pink skirt was tied up high, showing off her perfect ass. Kyle's green one matched, the dark streak in his – her – hair catching the light.
They were smirking.
"Looks like somebody didn't read the instructions," Ryan – now going by Riley – purred.
"What… what the fuck happened to me?" you stammered, clutching the sheet over your hard-on.
Kyle – now Kayla – stepped forward, biting her lip to contain her laughter. "Didn't you read the leaflet? Like, at all?"
"What leaflet?"
The two girls exchanged a look of pure, bratty delight.
"No sex for twenty-four hours whilst the changes stabilise," Riley read aloud from memory, mimicking a public service announcement. "That's, like, rule number one. Printed right on the back of the packet."
"We didn't make out last night," Kayla added, flipping her skirt up. Bare underneath. Smooth, perfect, genuine pussy on display. "Not once. Not even a kiss. Sat on our hands like good girls whilst you were in there getting railed by every frat boy in the building."
"Three of them," Riley confirmed. "I counted. You were so loud."
Your stomach dropped. The memories flooded back – the first night, the heat, the need. You'd been so desperate, so wet, so eager to feel them inside you. You'd begged for it. Screamed for it.
And now…
"Changes didn't stabilise," Kayla said, snapping her skirt back down with a smirk. "So your body got confused. Half-girl, half-boy. Tits and ass up top–" She gestured at your chest. "–cock down below. No pussy. Just that sad little boner."
"It's not little," you protested weakly.
"It's not the point either, babe." Riley leaned in close. "The point is: we stabilised. We're proper girls now. All week. Every hole, every position, as much cock as we want."
She flipped her own skirt up. Pink plaid, bare pussy, glistening slightly in the cold morning air.
"See? Perfect. Functional. Ready."
Kayla mirrored her, green skirt up, showing off her own smooth slit.
"Meanwhile you're stuck with that thing," Kayla said, nodding at your crotch. "All week. A pretty girl with a dick and nowhere to put it."
"The frat boys are gonna be so confused," Riley giggled.
"They already know," Kayla said. "Told them this morning. Brad said he'd still fuck you but only if you top. The others just laughed."
Your cock twitched under the sheet. They both saw it.
"Awwww," Riley cooed. "Does the little shemale want to play?"
"Too bad," Kayla said. "We've got a week of getting railed to catch up on. And you've got a week of watching."
They turned, skirts swishing, heading for the door. Riley paused, looking back over her shoulder.
"Should have read the label, babe."
The door closed. Their laughter echoed through the cabin.
You sat on the bed, hungover, hard, and ruined – listening to the sounds of your friends getting exactly what you'd thrown away.
Everyone loves my Mom... though it's actually kind of embarrassing how horny all my mates are for her.
Not only is she fun and mischevious, but she was a supermodel back in the nineties and now in her forties she isn't looking bad at all. Sure... having a Mom with a huge rack and killer body who loves to wear tight sweaters and revealing dresses can be a LITTLE embarrassing, but at the same time it's kind of cool.
Certainly all the guys like to get invited to mine. My Mom - Karen - definitely likes the attention too. If I didn't know better I'd say being surrounded by horny twenty year old guys all perving over her must really turn her on.
Not that she'd do anything whilst I'm there of course.
My best mate Andy was the worst though. Like he had an ACTUAL obsession with my Mom. He was always trying to get photos of her and be near her. He probably jerked off to photos of her, as gross as that was.
Still... his horny obsession was intriguing and it gave me the idea for a little prank.
I'd managed to score some Dupli-8 recently and had been itching to try it. Mixed with a strand of my Mom's hair it would turn me into a clone of her if I drank it. It seemed like it might be fun to have a go and prank Andy using the drug.
I packed a satchel with a load of my Mom's sexiest lingerie, makeup and the Dupli-8 and headed over to Andy's house. We'd agreed to hang out together and watch some bad movies.
I waited till Andy was relaxed and his guard fully down, then pretended to go to his toilet.
In the bathroom I took off my clothes and then naked, hesitated with the vial of Dupli-8 close to my lips. I had to admit I was feeling nervous and excited at the same time... was I really gonna do this?
I drank it all.
Hot delicious fire burned through my body making me moan and gasp in pleasure as my Mom's DNA surged through me and my skin tingled and stretched. It was working.
I felt my short hair begin to lengthen into an identical copy of my Mom's. She'd been to the hairdressers just the other day and blonde hair, slightly darker at the roots, tickled my neck as sexy manicured nails shot out of every finger.
I admired the nail patterns, feeling happy at how pretty my hands looked as they morphed into my Mom's. I shrunk in height, crunching down as bones popped and shifted and my hips pushed out.
I giggled, my voice changing as my waist crunched in a little and I felt my ass expand. I still looked amazing even though I was in my forties... some women had let themselves go, but I hit the gym everyday and knew I still looked good.
I? Me?
I realised my personality and sense of self was changing too as I effortlessly adopted my Mom's memories, body language and posture. Dupli-8 was literally making me identical to her.
New thoughts and feelings flooded my transforming body - though I still knew I was me deep down inside - I was also becoming Karen Green in body and mind.
"Fuck yeah," I moaned as my chest began to tingle. I had always been in love with my big tits and wouldn't be me without them. Feeling them began to expand and grow made me feel so good. I sighed and tossed back my long blonde hair as my massive mammaries flopped out, the nipples hard as I cupped them. Fuck yes. Now I was ME.
I was Karen.
Well almost. As my ass finished pushing out and my features became those of a sexy woman, my cock suddenly began to tingle. Like a stop motion animation it began to shrink in on itself - getting smaller and smaller till it finally vanished inside me with a wet pop.
Giggling I reached down and stroked my new pussy.
NOW I was Karen. I was the full package.
My son was a naughty boy for wanting to prank his friend. He had no idea what a bad girl his Mom could be though.
I reached into the satchel and began to put on my lingerie and grab my makeup. This was going to be fun...
***
Andy's mouth dropped open as I swayed into the room.
"M...Mrs Green?' he gasped.
"Hiya baby," I purred strutting over and feeling super sexy as I slid onto his lap.
"Wh... how?" He thought furiously for a second and realisation hit. "Wait are you?"
"That's right baby, it's actually me your friend. But I took Dupli-8 to become my Mom because I know you love her so much. Haha, you should see your face. This is priceless."
I slid off his lap and kneeling in front of him began to fumble at his crotch and unzip his fly.
"Woah. Wh... what are you doing?" gasped Andy as I slide my manicured hands around his cock and enticed it out of his pants.
"Taking this prank further than my son would want. Too bad for him I'm in control now. He'll remember everything he did as a copy of me, so this is MY prank on him for being rude and making himself into a copy of me without my permission."
Spitting on Andy's cock I slid it into my mouth and began to suck. I felt it stiffen and harden as I expertly blew him... my cheeks concave as I used my tongue to tease the sensitive end of his dick and took his dick deeper and deeper.
Spit oozed down my chin as I got nice and sloppy. I needed his cock coated in saliva for what came next.
Unhooking my bra I let my big tits hang free and flop out. Gathering them in my hands I hefted them up onto Andy's lap and wrapping them round his cock began to give him a titfuck.
"Mmmmh ever had your dick inside such a big pair of tits before?"
Andy moaned as all his dirtiest fantasies came true and his best friends hot MILF Mom flopped her perfect titties up and down around his cock. I squeezed them, gripping his dick tight in my breasts to maximise the pleasure.
He couldn't last long and with a cry of pleasure he began to cum, hot sticky jizz oozing out over my big tits as I urged him to give me every drop.
"Mmmmh such a good boy," I giggled. It had only taken Andy a couple of minutes to cum. He just couldn't cope with this situation. It was kind of cute.
I scooped up and ate some cum, letting the rest drip down my tits.
"So... have a few minutes to recover and then we'll try round two. By the end of tonight you'll have fucked every one of my tight holes. Let's make sure my son has some good memories by the time I turn back into him."
Everyone loved my Mom, but she could be a real mischievous bitch sometimes.
Holding his strangely flat tummy and running his hands up his torso, Kyle shivered in pleasure at the feel of Amy's soft body and the swelling curve of her magnificent tits. They were fully on show, huge rounded globes barely contained by her white low-cut halter and pushed up by the partially zipped pink top hugging his torso.
His perfect blonde hair was swept back by a pink head-band and his long cheerleaders legs fully on display. When he moved his peachy ass bounced and his white skirt swished with every movement of his lithe young body.
His pedicured toes were crammed into Amy's favourite converse sneakers and he was wearing her favourite perfume. He could taste her lipstick on his mouth and see her long lashes every time he blinked her eyes. Best of all, his vision was now as perfect as his dazzling white smile. He could feel the neat little row of perfectly aligned teeth in his mouth and it was hard not to smile feeling this way.
Kyle's hand crept down and he shivered and let out a slight gasp as he found his flat crotch and felt the excitement of having Amy's tight pretty pussy rather than his tiny little dick between his legs.
His trembling hands went to the back of his neck where he could feel the almost invisible seam of the skin he was wearing and the tiny zipper which would allow him to slide Amy open and struggle out of her.
"This is fucking nuts," he whispered in Amy's controlled and feminine voice. It was the voice of a confident, bitchy cheerleader... which of course is exactly what she was.
Amy was the most popular girl at school and the one all the boys had wet dreams over. She was the Alpha girl, the mean queen and the biggest bully. Amy KNEW she was better than everyone else and she acted at all times like a spoiled entitled Princess. Her Daddy owned the one viable business in the small town and pretty much everyone worked for him, which is why everyone had to do what she said. It was a bad idea to get on Amy's bad-side.
Or at least it had been until Kyle and his girlfriend Monica had used the magic zipper to turn Amy into a wearable skin suit to limit her power and stop her running for school president. This way she could no longer hurt the nerds and the geeks.
The plan was now to take turns wearing the skin for the next few days until the election was over. Amy wasn't allowed to drop out of the Presidential race but Kyle and Monica had plans to ruin Amy's reputation and ensure she didn't get elected.
If she did, Amy would use her power to further cement the influence of the bullies and the mean girls. Once the election was over they'd reverse the zips effect and turn Amy back to normal. By that time it would be too late for her to win.
They'd tossed a coin and Kyle had won. It was his turn to go first and wear Amy. Now he was standing in her bedroom inside her body wondering what to do next. His head was awash in strange unfamiliar memories. Amy's knowledge was sinking into his mind, allowing him to impersonate her more easily. She had some... interesting memories and ideas that was for sure.
Pulling his mind to the present, Kyle took a deep breath and picking up Amy's handbag walked to the door. This was a good plan. What could possibly go wrong?
***
Monica felt the nervous shiver she always felt as she watched Amy advancing down the corridor with her flunkies Heather and Carlie. Even knowing her boyfriend was inside Amy didn't ease her anxiety.
Outwardly it was hard to tell anything had changed. Amy still looked dazzlingly beautiful and walked with a cheerleaders grace and perfection. Yet maybe there was a flash of uncertainty in her eyes, a lack of her usual condescending haughtiness. She looked a bit like Bambi learning to walk for the first time.
"What the fuck do you want loser?" snapped Heather as they reached the end of the corridor to find Monica blocking their way.
"Yeah nerd, get the fuck out of here," laughed Carlie.
Each girl tilted their heads, their eyes alight with evil glee as they waited to see what withering put down their leader would issue.
Amy hesitated and Monica felt a surge of her own glee as she prepared for Kyle to put stage one of their plan into effect. Amy was going to back down and apologise. Her friends were about to see their leader become a beta.
"If you don't get the fuck out of our way loser," hissed Amy leaning close so her massive tits were right in Monica's face, "I'll ram your head so far down the toilet you'll drown in your own fucking nerd piss. Never get in our way again. When I'm President you are FUCKED."
Monica whimpered as Amy shoved her hard and she crashed into the wall. The bigger more dominant girl laughed as her victim slid down the wall and a wicked grin slid over her beautiful face.
"Mmmmh that felt fucking GOOD. Come on ladies."
Amy walked away, her stride now fully confident as Monica lay in a dazed heap trying to process what had just happened.
***
Kyle was a drooling oozing mess. Inside Amy's skin he was fading away, being consumed by her stronger personality. He felt like he was orgasming. It felt like he was BECOMING Amy and Kyle didn't even exist anymore.
It wasn't like he was even fighting very hard to be fair. It felt so good to let Amy's words come out of his mouth, feel her personality and drive for power fit over his own like a glove. Being Amy felt too damn amazing.
"The body gets what the body wants," purred a voice in his head. "I've come too far to ultimate power to let some nerds stop me."
He had always been weak... until now. He had always let girls push him around. Until now it had been that loser Monica. Now Amy was in the driving seat and it felt good to obey her.
"You're so fucking pathetic that I'm wearing you and not the other way round," laughed Amy's voice. "You're melting inside me. You're becoming me. It won't be long now loser. You're going to love being the most popular girl around."
Kyle orgasmed again at the thought of being Amy.
"Just one last thing to do. Rip off the zip. Trap yourself inside me. Admit you want this."
Kyle moaned, and reaching up to his perfect neck felt the tiny zip. With a groan he ripped it free, feeling the suit tighten and permanently seal around him.
"What's that babe?" asked Carlie curiously.
"Oh... nothing," gloated Amy as she dropped the zip and crushed it beneath a heel. "Come on. Let's find some more guys to flirt with. Every vote I get towards School President helps."
When I came out, he didn't judge or react. Just listened and told me there's no way a change in "gender" would affect our friendship.
While I felt finally at peace with all the estradiol and progesterone making my body in sync with my soul, it was him that made me feel happy.
To spending nights with me at the hospital while I recovered from my bottom surgery, and taking me to follow ups, I didn't know when I actually fell for him.
I was on cloud nine when he told me that he shared the same feelings for me..
So, here we are on our 6 month anniversary. My gut tells me (and his sister, who's my bff), I'll leave here as his fiance ❤️🥰
Joe found the spell on a forum that shouldn't have existed.
Body Possession Ritual — Full Immersion. Target must be known to you. Light a pink candle. Speak the words. Close your eyes. You will inhabit their form for two hours. ONE RULE: Do not orgasm. Each climax erases a layer of your original memories. You have been warned.
The target was obvious.
Pixie. Twenty years old. Pink hair cascading in waves past her jawline, baby blues lined with thick lashes, lips permanently pouted and glossy. Her OnlyFans had twelve thousand subscribers. Her body was impossible — heavy round tits that defied gravity, a tiny cinched waist, and an ass like two ripe peaches stuffed into thigh-high socks. She was the e-girl of his dreams. The girl he'd spent — God — probably a thousand hours watching, tipping, jerking off to in the dark of his bedroom.
Two hours before her boyfriend got home to film content.
Two hours inside her.
Joe lit the candle. Spoke the words. Closed his eyes.
And fell.
---
Mmmmmh…
The first thing he felt was the weight on his chest.
Heavy. Warm. Two perfect orbs pressing against the fabric of — what was this? A tiny pink crop top. No bra. He could feel his nipples — her nipples — stiffening against the cotton, fat and sensitive, sending little sparks down through his stomach.
He opened her eyes.
Pink walls. LED strips. A ring light on a stand. A bed covered in plushies and pink satin sheets. A mirror on the wardrobe door.
And in the mirror — Pixie.
"Oh fuck…" The voice came out of her throat — high, breathy, a little bratty. Her voice. His lips moved and she moved. Pink hair swayed. Those big blue eyes blinked.
Joe raised her small, manicured hand. Acrylic nails painted pink with little rhinestones. He watched her hand rise in the mirror and his cock — wait. No cock. Nothing there. Just a smooth, warm, wet little slit nestled between soft thighs.
He cupped her tits through the crop top. The sensation was electric — a deep, heavy ache that pulsed straight down between his — her — legs. He squeezed. Soft. Impossibly soft. And heavy. He could feel the weight of them pulling at her chest, the way they sat high and round and perfect.
"Don't…" he whispered to himself. "Don't get carried away. Two hours. Don't cum. That's the rule. Just… explore. Be careful."
He pulled the crop top over her head.
Her tits bounced free — big, round, pink-nippled, with a subtle undercurve that made them look engineered. He hefted one in her small hand. The nipple was fat and puffy and so sensitive. Just brushing it with his thumb made her pussy clench.
Oooooh… that's… that's really sensitive…
He pinched. A little moan slipped out of her mouth. Her thighs pressed together.
Stop it. Don't play with them too much. You know the rules.
But they felt so good. Heavy and warm and his — hers — and he'd spent so long imagining what they'd feel like and now they were right there in her hands.
He padded across the room in her bare feet — tiny feet, painted toenails — and looked at himself — herself — in the full-length mirror.
She was wearing a tiny pink pleated skirt that barely covered her ass. Beneath it: a pink thong, the string disappearing between the most perfect, round, juicy ass cheeks he'd ever seen. He turned. Looked over her shoulder at the mirror. The skirt rode up and there it was — her ass — plump and taut and begging to be grabbed.
God, she's even more perfect from this angle…
He bent over slightly. The skirt rode up further. He could see the thong stretched tight over her pussy — smooth, waxed, a tiny camel toe.
His — her — mouth watered.
Don't.
---
Twenty minutes in. He'd managed to limit himself to looking.
He sat on her bed, surrounded by plushies, scrolling through her phone. Messages from subs. A DM from her boyfriend — Tyler 💕: be home in 2 hrs babe. gonna film that anal scene u promised. got the new plug.
Anal scene.
Joe stared at the message. His stomach did something strange. A hot little flutter.
She does anal. On camera. For thousands of people.
He looked at the bedside table. Opened the drawer.
Lube. A pink jewelled butt plug. A string of anal beads — pink, graduated, the last one thick. A vibrator. Several dildos.
He picked up the butt plug. It was heavier than he expected. The jewel on the end was pink. The shaft was slim but present.
I could… try it. Just to see what it feels like. It's not my pussy. It's my ass. The rule is don't cum. Anal isn't going to make me cum. That's not how that works.
He was already rationalising.
He lubed the plug. Pulled the thong aside. Found her asshole — tight, wrinkled, warm — and pressed the tip against it.
"Ohhhhh…" Her voice. High and breathy. Her toes curled.
It slipped in. Slowly. The stretch was intense — a deep, filling pressure that made her pussy throb. The plug slid home with a soft click and the jewel nestled against her cheeks.
Fuck. That felt… that felt really, really good. A constant low hum of pressure right against something inside — something that made her pussy drip.
Okay. That's fine. That's just… anal. That's just what anal feels like. It's not going to make me cum. It's fine.
He pulled the beads out. Lubed them. Pressed the first one against her already-stretched rim.
It popped in. Then the second. Bigger. Her breath hitched. Then the third — oh God — and her pussy was clenching around nothing, dripping onto the pink sheets, and the pressure was building somewhere deep inside, something he'd never felt before, a tight hot coil right behind the plug—
The fourth bead. Thick. Her back arched. Her tits pressed into the mattress. Her ass was stuffed and the pressure was right there, right on that spot, and her pussy was spasming—
"Oh fuck — oh fuck — what is—"
The fifth bead. The biggest. It popped in and her whole body seized.
"FUCK—!"
And Pixie came.
Not from her pussy. From her ass. A deep, rolling, devastating anal orgasm that made her thighs shake and her toes curl and her pussy gush clear fluid onto the sheets. Her asshole clamped down on the beads and the plug and the pleasure radiated out in waves — up her spine, down her thighs, through her clit — and she screamed into a plushie.
When it passed, Joe lay there. Panting. Drooling. Her ass still stuffed. Her pussy still twitching.
And something was… missing.
What was I… what was the rule? There was a rule. Something about…
It was there. Faint. Like a word on the tip of his tongue.
Don't cum.
But he'd already cum. And the memory of why was already fading.
---
He pulled the beads out. One by one. Each one made her pussy flutter. Each pop made her whimper.
That felt… that felt so good. I should… I should try the pussy. Just to see. Just to feel what it's like.
He reached for the vibrator.
No. Something in the back of her mind. Faint. Don't.
But the voice was so quiet now. And her pussy was so wet. And the plug was still in her ass, humming with pressure, and she just needed—
She pressed the vibrator to her clit.
"Ooooooh FUUUCK—"
Within thirty seconds she was cumming again. Harder this time. Her pussy gushed. Her tits heaved. Her back arched off the bed. And another layer of Joe dissolved like sugar in hot water.
What was… my name is… I'm…
Pixie.
She was Pixie.
She rolled onto her back. Spread her thighs. Looked at herself in the mirror across the room — pink hair fanned across the pillows, big tits swaying, thighs shaking, pussy dripping.
God, I'm so hot.
She grabbed the biggest dildo from the drawer. Eight inches. Thick. Pink.
And she fucked herself with it.
Long, slow, deliberate strokes. Watching herself in the mirror. Watching her pussy stretch around it. Watching her tits bounce. Moaning in her voice — high and bratty and slutty — and cumming again and again and each time something else dissolved and it felt less important and more right and she was Pixie, she was always Pixie, she was a hot horny slut who loved cumming and—
"FUCK YES—!"
Another orgasm. Her pussy squeezed the dildo. Her eyes rolled back. The last thread of Joe — some vague sense that he'd come from somewhere, that he'd been someone else — frayed.
Who… who was I before? Was I… someone?
The thought drifted away like smoke.
---
An hour and fifty minutes.
Pixie lay on the bed. Drenched in sweat and cum. The plug still in her ass. The dildo still in her pussy. Her thighs streaked with her own juices. Her eyes were half-lidded. Her mouth was open. Drool on the pillow.
…so good… more… need more…
She heard the front door open.
"Babe? I'm home."
Tyler.
Her boyfriend. Big. Muscled. Tattooed. And — she remembered, somehow, with a hot thrill — huge.
She heard his footsteps. The bedroom door opened.
And there he was. Six-two. Broad shoulders. Black t-shirt stretched across his chest. And when he saw her — spread out on the bed, plug in her ass, dildo in her pussy, drooling and desperate — he grinned.
"Started without me, slut?"
Pixie moaned.
Oh God… he's so… he's so big…
He pulled off his shirt. Unbuckled his jeans. And his cock sprung free — thick, long, veiny — and Pixie's pussy clenched around the dildo at the sight of it.
That's… that's the biggest cock I've ever… I need it… I need it now!
"Tyler…" she whimpered. "Please…"
He pulled the dildo out. Pulled the plug out. And replaced them with his cock — first in her pussy, deep, stretching her wider than the dildo, and Pixie screamed.
"That's it, baby. Take it."
He fucked her. Hard. The bed shook. The plushies fell off. Her tits bounced with every thrust and she was cumming — over and over — and each thrust drove something out of her mind, some last stubborn fragment of a person who'd been someone else, a loser, a nobody, a boy in a dark room—
And each orgasm erased it.
Until there was nothing left but Pixie.
A drooling, cumming, empty slut with a big cock in her pussy and her eyes rolled back and her tongue out and nothing behind it but pleasure.
Tyler flipped her over. Spread her ass. Pushed into her asshole.
"Time to film, babe."
Pixie just moaned.
---
The Next Day
Pixie sat in her pink room. Hair in pigtails. Makeup perfect. Sipping an iced coffee.
Tyler was editing last night's video. The anal scene was going to do numbers.
She scrolled her phone. Twitter. News.
LOCAL: Man, 24, Found Unresponsive in Bedroom.
She tapped it.
Police discovered a 24-year-old man in his apartment yesterday evening, unresponsive and uncommunicative. Paramedics reported that the individual appeared to be in a catatonic state, staring at the ceiling and unresponsive to stimuli. A pink candle was found burning on his desk. Authorities are investigating but suspect no foul play. The man's identity has not been released. A neighbour described him as "quiet, kept to himself, always on his computer."
Pixie sipped her coffee.
"That's sad," she said.
She scrolled past.
"Tyler, baby — when's that video going up? My subs are begging."
The world was full of sad lonely boys, but Pixie… Pixie was a princess and her life was amazing.
"B-but that means you can decide that I didn't pass the test yet after I've been fucking my ass for months!"
"That's toooo bad~ It's up to you to convince me that you're not gay and the only way I'll be convinced is if you don't cum while fucking your ass with this big~ thick~ dildo I got you~ You're the one that wants to date me so you better try your best!"
She hands me what looks to be a giant 12 inch cock
"Oh by the way cutie~ You'll have to give me your chastity keys so I know you're not cheating on the test. AND you'll go allll the way down on that toy to convince me that you're not chickening out!
I hope you enjoyed this lil gay test scenario~ -Pinkfemgurl
Black Reaper @blackreaper125 - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
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