Transformed! Nine Magically Erotic Stories (12 page)

Sometimes, he thought about them teaming up to seduce him. Apologizing for all the wrongs they had done them—and there were
plenty
—and sometimes he thought about Amy bringing Catalina over, putting her down on her knees in front of David, and then commanding her to worship...

The gorgeous woman’s gaze, eating him up, seemed only to encourage that kind of thinking. Like she thrived off of it, somehow. Her green eyes were brimming with understanding, as if she knew exactly the sort of thinking she encouraged, and about whom.

She tsked softly, seeming to float toward him, her walk was so graceful.

“Sort of girlfriend? What is this ‘sort of?’ A handsome boy like you, I think to myself, ‘Yasmin, he must have so many girlfriends. It is no use trying to be flirty with him. He has so many, he is fighting girls off with sticks.’ Myself, I do not like being hit with sticks. So don’t worry about me.” She placed a dainty finger inside of the deep, luscious line of her cleavage. “Now, who is this insane woman who is not sure if she is yours or not?”

Every word from this beautiful woman’s mouth—this Yasmin—swelled David’s pride more and more. She was talking about...about not just one girl, but lots of girls vying for him. That he would have to be in a position where women would come to him. If only!

He was sure it was a sales tactic, but still, even that effort made him feel more appreciated than he thought he ever had from regular interaction with other women. With most women, especially beautiful women, he was awkward. It was hard to form words when women were always these lovely collections of everything that was hot and sexy and right in the world.

But with this beauty, this Yasmin...it was easy to relax. Her smile so warm and inviting. He stared openly at her cleavage, and she repositioned her chest, making it even easier for him to look.

Go ahead, she seemed to say. They’re decorated up just for you.

“Her name is Amy. She’s...we worked together. And went to school together, a while back.”

She only noticed him when they started working together and she needed a ride, of course. Six months ago, she had kissed him on the lips when he dropped her off. Since then, he had been in love—and nothing had been able to dissuade him from pursuing her.

“Ah. And she had some enormous crush on you that you are only just now noticing, so she is shy?”

He shook his head. “It’s more the other way around, actually.”

Yasmin’s eyebrows raised up. “Impossible! I cannot believe it! You are handsome! Young! What is the word...a stud! That is what you are!”

She slid on arm on his back, maneuvering him through the store. One big, delectable tit landed on his arm. He could feel the pressure in his pants starting to build. Soon, he’d have a hard-on. But somehow, with Yasmin so near, that did not seem like such an issue. Previously, it would have made him die with embarrassment.

But again, with her, this feeling of wrongness that he had trained himself with was somehow morphing to rightness. She was a beautiful woman. Of course he should have a hard-on. He was a man, after all, and fucking gorgeous women was what men did.

Wow, what a feeling.

She took him to a shelf arranged with many closed boxes.

“This is my exclusive shelf,” she said softly. Each breath coated in her exotic foreign accent. “I promise myself when I open this store, I say, ‘Yasmin, do not let anyone buy anything from this shelf. It is all too precious. Save it only for those customers who come back again and again.’ But then, this handsome man, this stud, he comes inside my shop, and my will disappears.”

She opened a box. Inside were a collection of ornate, violet ropes, coiled up playfully.

“Will is such a troublesome thing. I am so happy for it to be gone in front of you. Your girl, this girl you love, she will be happy it is gone as well.”

David shook his head. The thick fog of arousal this Yasmin produced was making it very hard to think. She was pushing so many buttons, all at once. Talking about her will being gone in front of him. Talking about
Amy
’
s
will being gone. But this gift, these...

“Ropes?”

“Of course. Feel them.” She guided his hand down to their soft surface. “So lovely, so right they feel. She will not be able to do anything but what you say when she is wrapped in them. She will love you, then, exactly how you deserve for being such a beautiful stud. Is that not what you would like?”

She pressed hard into his arm, enveloping his bicep with her large titflesh. She stared into his eyes, her own deep green irises seeming to absorb everything he was.

“Oh god,” he breathed. “Yeah...yeahhhh...”

That would be incredibly hot. Slim, busty Amy just doing only what he said. Amy wrapped completely in ropes, her big eyes looking up at him, expectant. Needing him to tell her to exist. Begging for him to own her more and more. Needing him to fill her until she was absolutely full of his seed. His cum. His babybatter. In his darkest dreams, his most emphatic fantasies, that was the image most prominent in his mind. Gorgeous blond Amy, so tiny and supplicating, her big tits wrapped down with constraints of his choosing.

Fuck.

“You deserve to have your girlfriend do what you say, don’t you? That is what these ropes will do. They have power, David, just as you have power.”

Had he told her his name? She was so close, so soft...he didn’t care.

Power, she was promising him. Power over Amy. Her hand slid along his bulge. His mind barely noticed it, though of course his body did. He was just staring at those ropes, imagining Amy in them. Helpless to do anything except obey his will. Needing his say-so to be let out, to be free.

Constraining Amy. Containing her. Making her his and his alone. She would never be able to say no to him again. She would never say anything to him except “Please” and “Thank you” and an endless string of happy, angelically-crafted compliments. The thoughts ran over his mind without even beckoning them—it was like they belonged on his mind, like he deserved that kind of thinking.

Fuck fuck oh fuck.

“You deserve whatever you want for working so very hard,” Yasmin purred. “Won’t you take them? Take the ropes? Please?”

Her tits were so heavy and full against his chest. Her hands nimbly unzipped his pants, freeing his cock from the futile restraints they posed. There was nothing that could get in the way of this woman’s desires, he knew suddenly. She would have her way. And she would give him incredible pleasure as she did so. Darkness gathered up around the two of them. It was impossible to see anything except for the shelf and her.

Her lips brushed against his ear, breathing warmly. Everything about her was so warm—almost otherworldly so, as if she was from a completely different dimension. A dimension, perhaps, based entirely on sex, loving, fucking, and hot bondage games where everyone belonged to someone else.

Sprouting forward, his cock slipped inside her open hand.

“Oh yes,” her voice so soft and breathy. “Yes, that’s right. Pay me for my goods.”

“P-pay?” he asked softly, her hand so incredibly smooth.

Struggling to mend his reality with his completely shattered expectations, he remembered suddenly how his wallet was in his car.

“I...my money. Outside.”

“Don’t be silly. Money from a stud like you? No. I need only one payment.” She pressed her lips to his ear. “Give it to me, stud. Give me your gift. Pay me. Please?”

Her other hand waved through the air. Little blue light trails followed her fingers. Suddenly, on the top of the shelf with all the boxes was a tall mirror. He could watch her as much as he wanted—see how completely hot she was.

“Look into the mirror. Watch my face, my breasts. Watch my excitement. This is what a woman should be for you.”

Shadows began to merge and meld in the darkness of the mirror. Behind Yasmin’s gorgeous reflection, the shelves of the store distended and morphed into a picture of Amy. The ropes from the box wrapped around her hands, and then framed around her tits.

He could see her clearly, her styled blond hair looking deliciously sexy around her young, happy face. She was mouthing his name, moaning it, needing him. He could very nearly make out her voice.

Yasmin’s voice was soft and pressing as she stroked his hot, hard cock. Her tits bouncing against his arm. Everything about her was so warm and good.

“This is what you deserve, for being what you so clearly are. For being a hunk, a stud, an ace. You need women like this, serving you like this, at all times. This is your reward for gifting us with your existence. Cum, my sweet stud. Cum for me and let me give you my perfect ropes!”

Staring at Yasmin’s bouncing tits in the mirror, at Amy silently calling out for him, David could not help but cum. He sprayed some directly into her hand, all the cum somehow landing there. She licked it all up right as he watched, treating it like it was holy ambrosia. Her eyes—beautiful emerald eyes—seemed to get only greener as he watched her.

He closed his eyes.

When he opened them, the lights of the store were no longer quite as dimmed, and the mirror on the shelf was gone. He could not even say for certain that it had ever really been there.

“Thank you, Sir,” she purred, closing the box and sliding it in his hands. “Get used to hearing that, holding those ropes. ‘Thank you, Sir.’ She will not be able to stop herself from saying it. She should say it. You deserve to hear it”

Still speechless, David stumbled out of the store, nodding and waving at the gorgeous store owner, not even remembering to zip his pants back up until he was outside.

* * * * *

S
itting alone in the coffee shop, Amy sighed, getting off the phone with Hank, the boy she was seeing later that night for a free dinner and hopefully some good old fashioned making out.

She didn’t like Hank that much, but he was super cute and a jock at the local university and it was a lot of fun to rope guys into giving her whatever she wanted when she needed it.

She was an incredibly cute babe, and she knew it. It was okay that she was a little shorter than most other girls—she made up for it with a startlingly pretty face with big blue eyes and soft, precious lips and a dynamite body carved from years of working on cardio machines. Her tits were her pride and joy—they had netted her more jobs, more free clothes, and more admirers than she could even really handle.

She tried to get more and more anyway, of course. Where was the fun in being a pretty girl if you weren’t going to milk every idiot you came across for all he was worth? If they wanted to give her things for something she was born with, she was more than fine with it.

A barista came by, asking her if she needed anything, practically panting on her. For the third time, she said no.

Amy had tried to dress a little conservatively for the meeting. She had on a denim miniskirt and fun pink platform sandals, a plain white short-sleeved sweater doing little to hide the substantial curve of her cloth-stretching cleavage. Fun hoop earrings dangled from her ears. With her body, there wasn’t a whole lot she could do to dress stylish and conservatively at the same time.

Where was David? Already, he was five minutes late. She was going to give it another two before storming out. Nobody stood her up.

This coffee meet-up had been giving her anxious pits in her stomach ever since David had asked for it, and double that ever since she had accepted.

David was just some skinny goof who she had worked with for two weeks at the laser tag center in the county before she had quit the job, having used up all the fun from working in such a place. Somehow, he had gotten her number, and texted her incessantly. He was nice enough, she supposed, but she knew he was hopelessly in love with her.

She knew this largely because of the text he sent her a week or so before at 3 AM, reading: “Fuck, Amy, I am so helplessly in love with you.”

She believed him, of course.

Of course he was in love her—lots of guys were. She knew her beauty, while not phenomenal, was of the exact kind that drove guys nuts because she was hot enough to be desired, but not so hot that she was intimidating. She had that kind of “girlfriend” level of hotness that made some actresses so appealing to the male demographic. A gift and a curse...though obviously, Amy felt it was more of a gift. She loved her body—loved the way her jaw was clearly defined, loved the way her tits were so naturally bouncy and firm (and probably always would be, judging from her mother), loved the lovely turn of her legs. Beauty was power in this world, and she had it.

She knew that, and her BFF Catalina knew it too. Catalina was getting married in a month or so to someone purely for power and cash—Amy was, of course, the maid of honor. She and Catalina saw eye-to-eye on everything—how their beauty made them privileged and better than other people, how guys were just suckers who deserved to have their stuff taken away from them, and of course, on David.

Poor, sad, lovably loserish David.

So she had agreed to this meeting only on the terms that this would be their very last meeting, ever. That after this, she had complete power to shut him down and push him out of her life. She already had a speech planned. It ran in her head, over and over, as she waited out the clock:

“David, I think you’re a nice guy and everything, I guess? But really, you are just completely not my type. In this town? I’m practically a goddess. I deserve a guy who is rich, devastatingly handsome, and able to give me
everything
my heart desires. And you just aren’t, well, any of those things.”

It would be cruel, but she had to be cruel. He wouldn’t get the message if she was nice. Or at least, he hadn’t so far gotten the message when she had been nice in the past. The coffee shop door dinged, and in came David’s shambly dressed form. He wore a thin red hoodie, his rail-like frame barely supporting the skinny jeans hanging loosely around his waist.

Oh god.

He had a present with him.

It was wrapped in a purple box with a red bow. It was about the size of a jewelry box, maybe a little larger. She hoped to god it wasn’t jewelry. She would take it, of course, and wear it if it were pretty, but some part of her would always feel a little naughty, knowing she had gotten it through breaking a boy’s heart. But odds were, with the way David dressed himself, that it would be as ugly as sin. She could just resell it on eBay or something, or have some guy do it for her. It was a game she knew pretty well, after years of having terrible jewelry gifted to her. Why was the taste of men so awful all the time?