I rolled out of bed, shaking my hair out of my face. Darrin leaned over and propped himself up on his elbow. "Going already?"
"It's ten 'till eleven," I said. I turned and smiled. "You know I turn into a pumpkin at eleven PM."
As I walked across the large bedroom to the master bath I heard Darrin say, "Still, isn't there anything I could do to get you to stay a little long?"
It was the same dance we went through every month. Darrin always wanted me to stay the night. I could if I wanted to, but I never wanted to. "You know the rules—" I warned. I flipped on the light and started to redo my makeup.
He rolled over and sighed. "Yes, yes, I do. Five hours of your time, only. Nothing more, nothing extra." He sat up. For a guy of 50 he had a pretty good body. Then again, one can afford to work out as much as you'd like when they're a movie producer. "I keep hoping, though, that we could make this a little more— permanent. You know?"
I finished fixing my face, then flipped off the bathroom light. "I do know," I replied. I removed my dress from where I'd laid it, over the back of a rather expensive-looking Elizabethan chair. "And as I've said before, we both know you only want me for my body." I started dressing. "As much as I love our agreement, I need a little more out of a relationship than just casual sex."
"There's nothing casual about it," he told me. He was right there. Darrin usually went at me like a wild animal.
I sighed. "Still . . . I girl needs something more than a warm body to bed with. And we both know you don't have that to offer."
Darrin nodded slowly. He'd been through three wives in the last twelve years and had earned a reputation as a rather cold-hearted bastard who only needed women for sex. He knew everything I was saying was true. "Yeah . . ." he said, rising slowly, saying nothing else. He walked over to the desk in the corner and removed a rather thick envelope. He handed it to me just as I finished sliding on my heels. "Anyway, thank you for an enjoyable evening."
I kissed his cheek and took the envelope. I didn't need to count the money; I knew there'd be $5,000 in $50s and $100s in there. I stuffed it in my purse.
"Same time next month?" he asked.
I pulled out my PDA and began tapping in information. "I already have you penciled in," I told him.
"Any chance you can make it an all-nighter?"
I raised one eyebrow. "You know that's fifteen grand—"
"And you know I can afford it."
I nodded. "6 PM until noon the next day, then." I tapped it in. "Done, honey."
He pulled me close and gave me a hug. As he pulled away he gave me a full appraisal. "I don't know how you did it," he said. "Whoever did your surgery was a fucking miracle worker."
I'd told him that I'd had a guy in Europe sculpt me to look the way I did. "Well, you know those Swedes—" I said, grinning.
"Yeah, but . . . when my second wife had some work done on her face and breasts, the guy who did he was considered the best in Beverly Hills. I could still find the seams when I looked hard enough." He ran a hand over my face. "I don't see anything on you."
I wanted to tell him, oh, I have seams. This just isn't the place to see them. But I didn't. He wouldn't understand, anyway. "Maybe one of these days I can introduce her to my doctor."
"Only if he's willing to fuck her up," he groaned. He'd told me his second wife had been the worst of the bunch. "Turn that bitch into the fuckin' Creature from the Black Lagoon."
I bit my lip, since I really didn't want to say, I can do that, but I figured I had a good thing going and I didn't want things more complicated than they already were. "Maybe one of these days," I whispered. I backed away from Darrin. "Gotta go."
"Another client?" he asked. Even though he tried to sound like he was joking, he wasn't.
"Believe it or not, I do have a life." I headed for the door. "Same time, next month." I paused in the doorway. "Bye, bye," I said, waving.
I headed down the stairs and into the foyer. I was out the door quickly. As much as I liked Darrin's money, he scared me just a little. Word on Darrin was he'd beaten his first wife a lot, which was why she left him. His second wife had used that against him in her divorce, even though I gathered he'd never laid a hand on her. As for the third wife . . . she'd left town after the divorce was final. Some said she was living in New York, others say she moved to Paris. Anyway, it seemed like most people had no idea where she was.
I walked to my car, have expecting Darrin to come running out, grab me, and haul me back inside. Lately it seems like he was pushing more and more to get me to stay longer. I was afraid that one of these days he wasn't going to take no for an answer and try something really stupid.
In a way I hoped he didn't. I enjoyed his money.
My car was parked a little ways down the driveway. A Ferrari Superamerica. 12-cylinder, 6-speed, 540 horsepower convertible with a top end of 199 mph. And red, of course. I slid in behind the wheel and started it up. I put it in gear and roared towards the gate. It was already open. I turned to the right and shifted smoothly up into fourth gear.
I turned on the radio. There was no music, but then I wasn't expecting any. "Miss me?" I asked.
A voice came from the surround-sound speakers. "Of course I do. I would like it if you'd leave in keys in once in a while."
"So you can do what?" I asked. "Go tooling around LA without a driver?" I laughed. "Great way to draw attention."
"Like we don't do that anyway." Amanda giggled. "Hot babe in a hot car. The fuck would you expect?"
I stopped at a light and, without thinking, checked my appearance in the mirror. A blond and voluptuous Shannon Elizabeth looked back at me. She winked at me with my eyes. "You got that right," I whispered, watching my lips move. "Hot as they can be."
Talking Heads once sang, "I've changed my hairstyle, so many times now/I don't know what I look like." That was me. The Nora who'd been changed through a wish by her lover no longer existed. Sure, there were photos showing what I once looked like, but I wasn't that girl anymore. Hadn't been for a while. Last night I was Shannon, during tricks with a Hollywood producer. The night before I'd been Jane Fonda done up in a Barbarella costume, giving someone their jollies. The week before I'd been Emma Watson, and while I know you're thinking there was some pervert shit going on, you'd be wrong; it was just one teenage girl spending the day with another, no charge.
I was a near perfect fantasy girl. I say "near perfect" because without Amanda to help with the change I'd just be another mix-and-match person who'd need to be changed into a mannequin to get anywhere. Yes, sir, there was magic in that girl, and since I was the only one who could control it I used it to my advantage.
And to the advantage of others.
I jazzed Amanda around Mulholland Drive, running her as hard as I could. She loved being a sports car, and the faster the better. I think if there was anything she could be for me all the time, it'd be a Ferrari. I understood where she was coming from. I'd switched places with her a couple of times (when I wasn't being her outfit) and being a car was definitely a fuckin' trip. You could feel so many different things, including your passengers, and there is this incredible sensation of power . . . I don't know how else to describe it except to say you should try it.
Amanda would normally ask me how my "job" for the night had gone, but tonight she was quiet. She just wanted to run. Plus, she didn't care for Darrin. She and I had traded places one night, and when it was over she hopped inside me, asked to switch, and never spoke about what had happened. I couldn't blame her; I knew what Darrin was capable of doing, and he'd probably grossed her right out.
Eventually we headed out of the mountains and down into Beverly Hills. We didn't live here—we had a nice condo outside of Brentwood—but I wanted to head over to Rodeo Drive and check out our display. I pulled up in front of the store and got out.
Ronnie was there, looking as beautiful as always. I didn't recognize the designer she was wearing, but I was certain it wasn't some cheap rag. I stood where she could see me. I knew how she was feeling, 'cause I'd been in that window before.
The only thing was, I'd never done it for a month. Or two. Or, as was with Ronnie now, three.
She seemed happy.
I turned and headed back to the car.
A lot had happened in the last two years . . ..
I didn't see the look on Ronnie's face when she walked in on Amanda and I, but from what Amanda told me later it was priceless. I suppose the sight of some Asian porn starlet with pink dildos instead of hands going at it with some armless, hands-where-her-feet-should-be, six-breasted Brazilian girl unable to speak English was just a little too much for her to take. It took a little while to get things straightened out, but eventually everything was put right as rain.
Ronnie had known I was going to try and bring Amanda in on this deal of ours; she didn't know that she'd not only be affected in the same way as us, but that I'd decide to have sex with her. I assured her that everything was cool, that Amanda was here to both help us and have sex with us if we wanted, but after that first meeting it took Ronnie a while to warm up to Amanda.
So I did what any girl in my position would do: I changed Ronnie into her mannequin self, then changed Amanda into a pretty dress and let Ronnie model her. After I fixed it so they could talk to each other. And then left them like that for a couple of days.
They both were in a much better mood after I changed them back.
With Amanda in the mix we could now "work" and not have to worry about suddenly changing into something we didn't want to. Since Ronnie and I worked together we could watch for each other, and should neither of us check in ever so often with Amanda, why she'd just utter the magic words and we'd pop back into the land of the living. So everything was great, fabulous, just hunky-dory. Not a problem in the world for the six months after Amanda became part of our family.
There was only one problem: Ronnie and I were very bored.
For six months we were good girls. We changed each other (and Amanda) in privacy, sometimes even in public, but Ronnie didn't rent me out for a weekend anywhere. Nor did I her. And so every time I changed Amanda into a dress or shoes or boots and wore her out, or even changed her into a mannequin (which I did a couple of times) and put her in the window for everyone to see, I sort of wished that it was me instead of her getting changed.
I spoke to Ronnie one night after Amanda had fallen asleep. "So why aren't you renting me out?" I asked.
She gave me a quizzical look. "I don't know," she said. "I didn't think—"
"You wanted it. Not with Amanda around."
Oh, fuck. So that was it. "You think I like her more?" I asked.
I was kind of stupid not to expect Ronnie to be just a little jealous. After all, we'd been intimate for a while before I snagged Amanda, so it only stood to reason that Ronnie was going to have a few issues with the new girl on the block. Still, Ronnie and I shared something that few other girls would ever have, and it was sorta . . . silly to think that I was going to up and blow her off.
"It's not like that, Ronnie," I said. "I still like you—"
"Yeah. Like. A lot. Just like I do with Amanda." I was starting to get a little pissed. "Nothing has changed between us, okay? Understand?"
Before Ronnie could say anything, she froze. She was suddenly a mannequin, sitting there, decked out in a silk baby doll, a peaceful look on her face.
"I hope you don't mind," said Amanda from behind me. I turned. She was leaning against the opening to the hall leading to the bedrooms. "But it sounded like you guys were arguing over me."
I nodded. "A little, yeah." I felt somewhat embarrassed. I was starting to think that going to Amanda wasn't such a good idea, and now that she was cursed like us . . . all sorts of bad feelings were starting to well up inside.
But it didn't seem to be bothering Amanda. "It's cool," she said. She walked into the living room and stood before Ronnie's frozen form. "Listen . . . I knew this might be a problem, but, you know, we girls are big enough to work this out, right?" She leaned over and kissed Ronnie on the forehead, then turned to me. "Do you trust me?"
"Yeah, I do," I told her, nodding.
"Good." She popped Ronnie's head off her body. "'Cause I'm thinkin' . . . what this babe needs is a makeover—"
The next day, Ronnie's head in hand, we went to see Amanda's brother. We got there early, about a half hour before he opened his store, so we could speak in private. Amanda wanted me to hang back while she spoke with her brother— mostly because she had "a surprise" she didn't want me to know about, and partially because her brother was getting a bit overheated when he realized I was the same girl who'd bopped his knob a week or so before just to get an outfit. That last was a good idea, since he looked at me like he wanted to give it another go right the fuckin' moment, sister watching or not.
They talked for about fifteen minutes. After they were done Amanda handed over the box that contained Ronnie's head, and told her brother to give her a call. I didn't say a word until we were outside. "What is your brother gonna do with Ronnie?" I asked, a bit worried.
"You said you trusted me, right?"
She smiled at me. "You'll see in about . . . a week. I think."
"Should be a week."
I didn't say anything until we were almost to the car. "She'll be alright?"
"She should be."
She stopped, turning me towards her. "You gotta trust me. I think you'll like it."
"I hope so," I warned. "'Cause if anything were to happen to her—"
"You'd turn me into a roll of toilet paper and use me." Well, I hadn't thought about that, but I suppose it was possible . . . "I know this, okay? Something happens to Ronnie, I'm fucked. So nothing going to happen." She took three quick steps towards the car and unlocked it, then hopped inside. I waited for her to unlock the passenger side, then got in.
"This gonna cost anything?" I asked.
Amanda started the car. "Well . . . you have to go out with my brother."
"And fuck him?"
"That was your idea the first time. Remember?"
"I do." A pause, then: "So when do I go out with him?"
"You guys work fast, don't ya?"
She laughed. "I have to give him some kind of incentive to do shit for me, don't I?"
It was my turn to laugh. "I suppose you do. Now, what should I wear . . .?" There was no question to either of us that Amanda was going to come along on "our" date. I fantasized about the perfect outfit, one that would get her brother worked up and steamin' in no time—
So when I showed up on his porch wearing a black silk mini dress with a plunging neckline and a scooped back, accessorized with black nylons and black knee high boots, it was little wonder he started tenting the moment he laid eyes on me. He was panting throughout the night when we went out to eat, and on the way from and back to his house.
And he was even more crazed when I stripped off the dress and revealed my garter and smokin' hot matching silk thong. And he thought it was kinky as hell when I just pulled the thong aside and told him to fuck me and when he pulled out my thong would snap back into place and catch all his drippings.
I wonder what he would have said if he'd know when I put the outfit together I'd made sure Amanda's "face" was right where my vagina was?
I knew what she'd have said if I could have heard her voice . . ..
Which I did the next day.
After I washed her.
Surprisingly, Amanda wasn't bothered by my treatment of her. She did admit getting a little dizzy in the dryer, but other than that—"It was the closest I could get to giving my brother a blow job," she told me after I got her back to herself. "Pretty fucking wild."
I told her it was a turn on to me as well, knowing she was down there—well, all around me, actually, she was the entire outfit—and that she was experiencing me having sex with someone she knew . . . "I guess there's a part of me that wants to share my voyeuristic impulses," I told her.
"You're just a pervert at heart, I guess," she replied.
"I don't think its my heart driving my impulses," I told her.
I suspected that Amanda might try and get back at me. After all, we had a week before we'd see Ronnie again (and I sure as shit wondered what was going on there), so I figured I'd probably find myself getting propped up some night in her brother's store decked out in about the wildest outfit one could envision.
Little did I know.
I went to bed that night without a problem. Slept soundly. Woke up the next morning and went to get out of bed so I could pee.
"Went" was the operative word.
I squirmed around trying to sit up and get to my feet, but I couldn't. I could roll around, but that was it. I turned my head and went face-first into a huge shock of light blond hair. That was the first clue that Amanda had probably changed me while I was sleeping.
Which meant I knew what she'd done to me . . ..
She wandered into the bedroom. She must have been waiting for me to wake up and heard me moving about. "Morning," she said softly. "Sleep well?"
"Did you change me into a mannequin last night and remove all my limbs?" I asked.
Amanda nodded. "Yeah," she said sheepishly. "Mad?"
"Well . . ." I took a deep breath. "I need to piss, honey. And if I can't walk to the bathroom—"
"Right." She bent down and picked me up, cradling me in her arms. Without my arms and legs I weighed a hell of a lot less than I would normally, so while I wasn't exactly light, I wasn't that much of a burden, either. She set me upon the toilet and held me while I relieved myself. After I was done she wiped me with paper, then moved me to the sink and used a cloth on me. Then it was into the shower where she bathed me, washed my hair and brushed my teeth. After drying me she laid me on the bed and began to dress me. Panties, yes, but she didn't bother with a bra. She slipped a leather skirt and a sleeveless gray knit top on me.
It wasn't until she returned with makeup that I spoke my first words in about 45 minutes. "You're really diggin' this whole Boxing Helena vibe, aren't you?"
Amanda blushed. That was a first for her. "Yeah," she said softly.
"You could really fuck with me if you wanted."
"I know." She started going through my meager jewelry collection looking for necklaces. "But I wouldn't."
"Why's that? I'm totally helpless."
She turned and grinned. "I know. It's just . . . when you're like this, it makes me feel as if I have to take care of you. You need me— and that means something to me." She lowered her eyes and smiled. "Something important."
I was starting to get a better impression of how Amanda thought "You submissive?"
She shook her head. "Not particularly," she told me. "But I've always fantasized about having to tend to the needs of a woman like . . . this, and, well . . ." She shuddered a little, just a little. "You're a dream come true. So I figured . . . might as well see if it's all I thought it would be--— right?"
"So right you are," I said, winking at her. I saw where she was coming from—a little. If someone tried to lay some big time submission role play on her, Amanda would just blow them off. No fucking way she'd do that under normal circumstances.
But with me . . . she was the one forcing herself into a submissive posture. She wanted to wait on me hand and foot—no pun intended. Ergo, she was enjoying herself, playing the part of my sexy little care giver. No, really, it was more than just enjoyment: I imagined that from Amanda's point of view, she was achieving some form of fulfillment of purpose.
After she dressed me she hauled me down to her car and we went off to breakfast. She still had that wheelchair (don't ask me where the hell she got that) and she wheeled me inside to eat. She fed me, she wiped my face, she helped me sip my coffee. Apparently happy the whole time.
We were getting a lot of stares, and for once it wasn't because of how I was dressed or my tits being too big. Seems a good looking woman who's had too little of something gets just as much attention has one who has too much of something.
Guess it depends on what that something is.
After that we went (where else?) shopping. She wheeled me around the downtown area, where we did a lot of looking. It felt strange having Amanda do everything for me, but I did like it. Enjoyed it, actually. I could tell she loved it, too. The way she doted on me . . . there was more to this than just some submissive role playing. I got the distinct impression I could stay like this forever and she'd always be there, taking care of me.
See a mannequin in a window I asked, "So, how long did you say Ronnie was going to be away?"
"One week," said Amanda.
"And will she?"
Amanda didn't even try to bullshit me. "No."
"So when's she coming back?"
A small pause, then, "About two, two and a half weeks."
I figured as much. "What's being done to her."
"Getting a makeover."
"Amanda . . ." I tried to give my voice a hint of warning without trying to sound like a total non-badass. "I'm not in the mood, okay? What's going on?"
"She's have a process done to her where it'll be possible to remove her face and replace it with another," she said. She wheeled me slowly down the sidewalk. "As well as getting a smoking body."
I almost lost it. "You've fucking with her face?" I screeched. "Cutting it off? Aren't you worried you'll kill her?"
"No." She sounded very positive. "I thought about it, and I think that as long as the head isn't destroyed she'll be okay." She didn't say anything for about thirty seconds. "My brother knows this guy who does it. He did it for a couple of displays that my brother owns." I could see her reflection smiling in the passing windows. "He's really good."
"What are you having her turned into?" I agreed with Amanda. I didn't think we could be "killed" unless you crushed our heads and ground up the plastic. Still . . . shit. I couldn't imagine lying there and feeling you face getting cut off. I wondered if Ronnie would still be able to see anything with her face missing.
Amanda wasn't going to tell me. "Something nice," she told me. "You'll like it. I'll bet she does."
"And you gonna do something with me after that?" I asked.
"Would you like me to?"
I wanted to say "no", I really did. I even tried. "Yes," I said softly. "I think I would."
"You want the face thing done to you as well? So you can be anyone?"
I mumbled, "I'd like it if we switched places," and just like that I was the one walking and pushing the wheelchair. I leaned over in time to hear "myself" gasp. "I can be anyone I like," I said, "whenever I like."
"But wouldn't you like for me to make you over?" Amanda asked in my lovely accent.
I had us switch back so we were in our right bodies, then told her, "Yeah. I think I might. It could be fun." I looked up and smiled. "Particularly with your imagination."
Amanda patted me on the shoulder. "I'm nothing without you," she said. "You inspire me."
Of that I had no doubt.
After a few hours Amanda and I went home. There she squeezed my body into a latex outfit I hadn't remembered buying (no surprise there), and then she made love to me. And I do mean love. She spent hours going over my body with her hands, her lips, tongue, nipples, breasts, toes . . . I'd never, ever been treated to such an experience. Maybe it was my current state of helplessness that put me in the right mindset, but fuck, I'd never had anyone make me feel the way Amanda made me feel. Not even Ronnie, and I knew Ronnie dug me.
Three hours later she hardened me up and reattached my legs and arms, then turned me real. I rubbed myself all over. "O Damn, isso sentiram-se grande!" I whispered. "You know how to make a quad-amputee feel wonderful."
"That was the idea," said Amanda. She held up a pair of platform sandals that were made for dancing and pink nylons. "Up for a little dress up?"
I leapt out of bed, on my feet for the first time today. "For you, anything." I put them on along with a little pink peak-a-boo teddy and looked wonderful against my skin. "Anything else?" I asked, knowing damn well where this was going.
"How about a real sexy pose?" asked Amanda.
I moved into position. I thought she was going to harden me, but instead she moved up closer and began running her finger lightly over my groin. "You do know I love you," she said.
I nodded, feeling the excitement starting to swell. "Uh, huh."
"It doesn't bother you?"
"I could give a shit," I hissed, holding back on the orgasm.
"What about Ronnie?"
What about her, indeed. "I like Ronnie," I said. "Even love her. But . . . it feels different with you."
"Fuck if I know." I knew I was going to cum any moment. I forced myself into a nice pose. "Freeze me," I begged.
"I was going to all along," said Amanda, grinning. She froze me just before I orgasmed, and fuck, it was like I was stuck in a never-ending feedback loop, right on the verge of peaking and staying there, right at the top, over and over and over and over . . . the only thing that might have been better would have been to freeze the moment I started cuming, but considering how I felt now, I didn't know if I could of handled that for very long.
And as soon as I was plastic Amanda started taking me apart and boxing me up.
Some time later (who knew how long; I was in the middle of ecstasy and couldn't be bothered with time), I felt myself being put together. I recognized the place right away: Amanda's brother's place. And she was setting me up next to the mannequin I'd been only a little while before.
He came over to check me out as Amanda was affixing my head. "Damn . . . how the fuck did you get one like her?" he asked.
"She modeled for this a while back," Amanda told him. She shot me a quick wink while I was "looking" at her.
Her brother suddenly got an idea. "Hey, uh, you're not . . . with her or anything, are you?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Well, it's just you seem . . ." He was trying to be diplomatic. "Friendly with her, if you know what I mean."
"You wanna know if I'm fucking her?" was Amanda's retort.
"Something like that, yeah." He seemed relieved that she'd said it and not him.
Amanda smiled. "Lips deep, baby."
He seemed to deflate a bit at this news. "So I don't have a chance with her, do I?"
Rather than give him a straight yes or no, Amanda said, "You know, I got to taste your cum as it was running out of her—"
That was a little more than he could take. He screwed up his face and looked away. "Okay, that's it!" he grunted. He moved behind the counter and grabbed his jacket. "I am not gonna stay here and listen to my sister's perverted shit! There are guys who would kill their sisters for hearing shit like that! La, la, la, I can't fucking hear you!" He reached the door and paused. "I am outta here!" And with that, he was gone.
"He'd shit if he know how I was tasting his cum," said Amanda to me, snickering. She stepped back to admire me. "You look beautiful. Can you let me hear what you're thinking?"
I did and greeted her for a long, pleasurable moan. "Christ, this is incredible," I said. "How long you gonna keep me this way?"
She appeared to think for a moment. "Well, I'm having Ronnie shipped here, so . . . until she arrives."
"That's two weeks!"
"Oh, is it?"
"Little bitch!" But I was only joking. Two weeks of pleasure, I thought. I just wished I could touch myself. When I came out of this I'd be ready for the biggest gang bang ever just to scratch the itch that was forming.
Amanda moved behind the counter, getting ready to run things for the night. Through my haze of bliss I figured, What the hell?, and started thinking about how I'd like her.
And then I let it go.
Most of Amanda's transformations seemed to occur in the blink of an eye. If you don't do anything about it, that is. I learned that I could make the transformation move along slowly, just as long as it was something that I wanted.
And I did want it.
As she started to change she rolled her eyes back and smiled. Amanda knew something was coming. Her breasts began to distend; her pants began getting tight around her hips. Her hair turned a jet black and grew longer while the features of her face started changing. She gasped as the zipper on her jeans shredded as her hips expanded, then kicked off her shoes when she realized how tight they were becoming. I heard the latch on her bra snap as the garment became unable to restrain her expanding bosom.
After a minute or so it was over. Amanda once again looked like her Felicia Tang self, only now she was six and a half foot tall, with gigantic breasts that supported themselves well as there likely wasn't an off-the-shelf bra that could hold them, and hips and ass that seem large enough to live in. I'd exaggerated her facial features; her eyes were very slanty, her nose little more than an upturned button, and her lips full enough that they could be employed as flotation devices. Last of all I'd given her real claws: four inch nails, unbreakable, each painted a dark and shinny burgundy.
She stepped out from behind the counter, her nude form simply perfect. Her pubic area was completely smooth, and her labia appeared swollen. "Felicia so sexy," she purred. Her voice was accented like that of a Chinese girl, and was softer and much higher in pitch than Amanda's normal voice. "Daniela make perfect Felicia."
"I certainly did," I said, giggling. I figured it would only be a moment or two before "Felicia" noticed the last changed I'd put into place.
She ran her hands over her breasts, noticing her fingernails for the first time. "Oh, Felicia nails! Me have claw now. Felicia . . ." And then it hit her. She screwed up her face as she looked at me. "Felicia sound like girl just get off boat! No talk right English!" She frowned. "Daniela why do this?"
"Because you fuckin' sound sexy as hell," I told her. "If I could get wet right now I would."
Her face softened and a slight smile played upon her lips. "Felicia love Daniela kink. Strange mind." She moved over and kissed my plastic cheek. "Make Felicia want Daniela more always."
She stepped back, a shimmer of tears in the corner of her eyes. "Must change. People see Felicia naked, want fuck hard." She grabbed a few things off the rack and disappeared into the back. When she returned about ten minutes later she was wearing a red latex mini dress—about the only thing that could hold her form—and matching platform sandals that made her nearly seven feet tall. She posed for me. "Daniela like?"
"I like," I told her. "I could look at you looking like that all the time."
"Always?" She was grinning slyly.
I knew what she wanted. She wanted me to make her like that for always. Make that her form. And I was really considering it, 'cause she was so fucking hot, so delectable. If I could have moved I'd have jumped her and dragged her Asian ass to the floor and did her right there and now. I couldn't help the feelings I had. I think it was that moment that I realize I truly loved Amanda/Felicia/Miss What-ever-the-fuck-her-name-would-be. I just wanted to be with her so much, and damn which ever form we possessed.
Before I could "say" anything the door to the store opened and I heard someone enter. There was a slight glimmer of recognition in Amanda's eyes, however. She asked, "Felicia help please?"
I still couldn't see the person, but I heard the voice—a woman's voice. "Yeah . . . I'm looking for Jack. He here?"
I knew Jack was Amanda's brother. Amanda/Felicia smiled. "Jack off now," she said, and I would have laughed out loud if I could. Sometime the transformation just writes its own jokes . . ..
The mystery woman didn't seem to think Felicia's comment was that funny, however. "Yeah, right," she growled. She finally stepped into view as Felicia backed up towards the counter. She looked like your average 20-something girl with a bad blond dye job (her roots were all over the place) and wearing a cheap short skirt and tank top. As she spoke she turned. She'd gotten implants—probably from some doctor she'd found in the phone book. There was enough space between her tits to park a truck. "Is his dumbass sister around?" she asked.
Felicia's face darkened slightly. She didn't take the comment too kindly. "Amanda no here," she said flatly. "You need help?"
The girl sighed. It was pretty apparent she didn't want to deal with this big-ass girl who could barely speak English. "Yeah, I guess," she finally said, sounded bored to hell and gone. "Jack order something for me . . . something special, if you know what I mean. I wanna see if it came in."
Felicia moved behind the counter to check on the claim. Why no ask Jack about item?"
"'Cause I wanna get it and make it a surprise for him—tonight. Get it?" She was started to sound pissed, like she didn't want to have to explain herself. "Christ, when did Jack hire you?"
"Felicia just work start." Those slanty eyes narrowed even more.
"What happened to Amanda? Little slut get caught with her face between someone's legs?"
I didn't have to know Felicia was getting pissed; I just knew it. "Amanda change work," she said, holding it in check. "Name, Miss?"
"Nancy." She was checking me out and didn't bother looking at Felicia, who was now shooting lasers beams into Nancy's back. "When did Jack get this thing?" The "thing", of course, being me.
"Arrive today." Felicia pulled out a bill. "Miss order dress, yes?"
"Yeah, ordered dress." She ran her hand over my face. "I should get a tan; maybe Jack would show more interest in me. He has a thing for these niggers, and I just don't get it."
Now Felicia was really pissed. "Model Brazil, Miss."
Nancy shrugged. "Yeah, whatever." She turned back to the counter. "Just ring the fuckin' thing up so I can get outta here."
"Yes, Miss." Felicia looked down at the bill. "Must get order." She stepped around the counter and headed into the back.
Nancy just stood there, looking around, seeming pissed that she had to wait some more. "Jack's gotta do something about the help," she muttered. She stared at the doorway to the back. "Fuckin' chink bitch," she mumbled. She turned back and started taking things out of her purse, looking for her credit cards. A lot of shit came tumbling out: wallet, compact, slips of paper, gold coin—
What the fuck? I couldn't believe it. It was the coin—again. This Nancy had it in her purse. Like a goddamn magnet, it had somehow come back to me in a round about way. This meant that Nancy would probably wish something and have it come true. Considering the sort of nasty bitch she was making herself out to be, I was fearful she'd say something that would involve Amanda. I didn't know if she could be affected by another wish from someone else, but I didn't want to take any chances.
"Yo, Felicia," I said, knowing she'd hear me even in the back room. "This bitch Nancy has the coin. It's sitting on the counter. Be careful what you say to her, okay?"
She came walking out of the back a few seconds later. "Felicia understand," she said softly as she passed me. "Here Miss package," she said. "Sexy dress. Very nice."
"I'm glad you rike," she said in a mocking tone. "Can you ring it up? I'm in a hurry."
Felicia spotted the coin but said nothing. "Yes, Miss." She looked up, smiling. "Felicia may ask Miss question?"
Nancy didn't bother to look up from re-stuffing her purse. "Yeah, if you can say it in fucking English."
"Do like Felicia body?"
I could tell by her body language that Nancy didn't like the question. "I'm not a lesbian, if that's what you mean," she growled.
"Felicia not mean," she replied. She stepped out from behind the counter. "Felicia mean Miss sexy girl. Know Jack like. Know Jack like more. Miss understand?"
Sighing, Nancy said, "Yeah, I understand. Jack likes strange, foreign pussy, is what he likes." She continued taking the rest of the contents from the counter and put them in her purse, the gold coin among the items.
Felicia stood next to me. "Miss have body like us, Jack very much love more." She ran her hands over my form. "So sexy, yes?"
"Yeah, if you like that shit." She snapped her purse shut. "Ring up my fuckin' order or I'm just with it. Okay, bitch?"
Felicia put her arm around me and moved cheek-to-cheek. "Miss no wish have our body?"
"I'll tell you what I wish—" Nancy snapped, and Felicia was quick enough to finish her statement, "Miss like body ours, with mouth perfect sex?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah! What-fucking-ever!"
There was no slow-motion change with Nancy. One moment she was her bitchy self—
And the next she was fucked.
Her wish seemed to give her all that she wanted—Felicia's body as well as mine. However, the wish also seemed to be giving her our bodies tacked onto hers, and so she was turned into a conglomeration of parts of all three of our forms.
She now had six legs. There were hers, naturally, but situated at thirty degree angles to her left and right behind her were two more pairs of legs. One pair was dark, the other sort of a creamy yellow in the store's light. My legs and Felicia. Her panties—unable to conform to her new crotch—lay shredded on the floor around all her ankles. I was betting under her cheap skirt she also had our vaginas. I didn't see any room for her —or our— asses, but hey, one can't have everything.
Her tank top was in a similar state as her panties: shredded and hanging in tatters upon her body. Her fake breasts were still encased in her white bra, but below those were Felicia's full, round tits, and below those were my delicious, dark brown breasts. And since there were now six tits filling up Nancy's torso, it was fortunate that she now had our arms and hands as well to allow her to feel her new additions— Felicia's arms (complete with long nails) below Nancy's arms, and my arms below Felicia's.
Lastly there was Nancy's face. Our hair types were mixed in with hers, so her head was a combination of dirty brown, light blond and jet black strands. She'd also been given our eyes as well, but not the brows. Down her cheeks, below her own blue orbs, were Felicia's jade green eyes, followed by my extremely dark brown-going-on-black eyes.
The most startling change was to Nancy's mouth, however. She'd wished—through Felicia—to have "mouth perfect sex", and what sort of mouth would be better for sex than one that looked like a vagina? Or, better yet, a real vagina—which was what Nancy now had sitting dead center in the middle of her head, replacing her nose and mouth, sliding vertically between her three sets of eyes.
She couldn't make a sound, not even a gasp. There were only beads of moisture on her face vagina, and a terrified look in Nancy's eyes as she came to grips with what had happened to her.
Felicia laughed. "Miss much pretty now," she crowed. "Jack like much, very much." All six of Nancy's arms were failing about as panic set in. "Jack much love strange, no, Miss?" Felicia whispered in my ear, asking for a change to her body. I would have smiled had I been able to, since I agreed that Little Miss Changed Cunt probably deserved everything that she'd gotten.
Felicia's dress began to tent a little in the area between her legs. "Oh, what this?" she cried in mock surprise. "Felicia maybe have something Miss." She pulled up her dress and exposed a foot of erect penis nestled between a pair of testicles that looked as big as regulation basketballs. "This must be Miss want," Felicia said smoothly. "Felicia think Miss go to knees, let Felicia see if Miss good for Jack."
Nancy was trying to back up, but she just hadn't gotten the hang of having six legs in a tripod formation, and after a couple of steps she went down on her non-existent ass. Felicia reached down and grabbed Nancy by the hair and yanked her head upward. "Felicia want fuck Miss perfect cunt mouth," she told her, then bent her head backwards, slipped the head of her large cock into Nancy's new orifice, and pushed all the way in.
Felicia moaned loudly and began mumbling in Chinese as she began pumping away at Nancy's face. Her strokes quickly became quicker and harder, her titanic balls thumping against Nancy's chin and chest. Nancy didn't —couldn't— make a sound; there was only the wet slurping of Felicia's cock sliding in and out of Nancy's now extremely wet face hole.
After about two minutes Felicia pulled Nancy's face in close to her crotch. Yelling, "Felicia no hold!" she pushed into her face as hard as she could several time. She was cuming into Nancy's new pussy, and I could only imagine what was going through Nancy's mind at this moment--assuming she hadn't lost it completely in the last few minutes.
When she was done Felicia pushed Nancy roughly away. Nancy slid to the floor, tears streaming down her face, the little white cream pie of ejaculated semen visible in her new vaginal opening. Felicia roared. "Miss Freak good, yes! Jack like you very much!" She looked at me and shook her penis; I got the hint and made it disappear.
Felicia picked up Nancy's purse and dropped it on the floor next to her, then went behind the counter to retrieve her package. "Clothes free charge, Miss," she said, throwing the package at Nancy. "Now you have surprise. Go, now, Cunt Face Miss."
Nancy looked up with pleading eyes, but Felicia was having none of it. "Cunt Face leave now; Felicia lock in back if not!" She gave her a soft kick in the side. "Go Jack; show him Miss freak!" She kicked her harder. "Leave!"
Nancy picked herself up, gathered her things, and quickly made her way out the door. Felicia watched the door close, unconcerned about what she would do next. I wasn't all that concerned, either. Considering the way she acted, I couldn't give a shit if what had happened to her was fair or not.
What happened had happened. It was no different than what had occurred to Felicia/Amanda, Ronnie, or I.
Felicia turned to me, her face flush. She kissed me on the lips. " Daniela know how Felicia very horny." She embraced my plastic form as if I were a real woman, kissing me long and passionately. I came violently. If I had been alive I probably would have collapsed in a heap on the floor.
Neither of us were concerned about someone walking in and interrupting us—
For the next two weeks I was on display at Jack's store. Amanda was working about three times a week, but she'd come by on her nights off after the store was closed and do things like dress me and take me apart and try out other bodies on me, and sometimes even has sex with my immobile form. Whenever she was present I'd change her into Felicia, even when she was working.
Amanda thought it amusing when Jack questioned her one night before she took over. He'd been asked by a customer about who the "big Asian chick" had been in the store during her shift the night before, and Jack wanted to know who it was. Amanda told him that she was some porn star that just happened to stop by—news that damn near made Jack have a heart attack. "Porn star here?" he whined. "And you didn't call me?" I thought he was going to start crying.
And as for Jack . . . when Amanda wasn't around—which was most of the time—he spent a lot of time staring at me. He was completely in love with me, I could tell. He asked Amanda once about where I was, and when could he see me again. She smiled that coy smile (something she was getting very good at doing) and told him I was a lot closer than he thought.
One night, while he was changing me, Jack got this funny look on his face as he examined me closely. I mean, he really checked me out. It wasn't until a few minutes into this routine that I realized he was masturbating over my form. I felt his semen spray upon my legs and midsection soon after that. Jack, looking embarrassed, cleaned himself and me up, quickly dressed me, and split like the cops were gonna come busting in any second. After that night he stopped looking at me, more than likely out of embarrassment over what he did.
Not that it mattered much, 'cause three nights later Amanda started breaking me down. "Time for a little trip, honey," she told me as she started boxing me up. Before she put my head in the box she kissed my lips. "You're gonna love it, trust me." I had no idea what "it" was, but at the moment I had no say in the matter. Whatever Amanda had planed for me, I was along for the ride.
Time went by . . . well, it just went by. Like when I'd been boxed before, it was impossible to feel time slipping by. I just went into the box, and then—ta, da! I was out. It felt like maybe an hour, maybe a day. For all I knew it was a couple of weeks.
When I came to I was still in part, lying about in a shop. There was a guy looking over me, measuring my head, in particular the area about my face. I knew where I was: this had to be the place where Ronnie had been sent, were she supposedly got her face fixed so any number of faced could be attached to her head. I was a bit worried, 'cause I didn't know if Ronnie was all right, if she was still "alive". I feared that as soon as my face was cut off I was going to die. Well, hell, as they say it was too late to do anything about it now.
The guy didn't start working on me until the next day. He clamped my head in a type of vise, then started using a saw on my head. I could hear the saw working; I could feel the blade cutting through my "skin". But I felt nothing. There was no pain. Maybe because I was still under the effects of the near orgasm Amanda had given me right before she froze me. I was being cut open, but I felt good. I could feel my head opening up, but I was alright.
And when my face came off . . ..
That was the only time I really wanted to scream, 'cause it did feel like a part of me was being taken away. It wasn't painful, don't get me wrong. It just felt . . . really fucking strange. I could see my face being lifted off my head, as if my eyes were still attached. I had this vision of me being alive, and having my face removed, and all that remained was this ugly, bloody mass with my teeth showing and a hole where my nose was, and these blank, staring eyes.
Then the guy got out some more tools and started working around inside my head, putting the support posts in place . . . at that point I just sorta did my best to shut myself down. I didn't want to think about this, not one damn bit.
I don't know how long I was like that— maybe a couple of days. When he was finally finished he pulled out a face (I couldn't see what it was), then put it down on my head. I felt it more or less snap into place—and then everything seemed normal. I couldn't even feel the seams in my skull where my face had been. It was just like, "Oh, yeah, another face."
The guy pulled that face off and put on like a half dozen more after that. Then he put me together. I didn't get to see what I looked like, but from the way he gazed at me he seemed pretty pleased that I was okay.
Then it was back in the box and the return trip home.
It seemed like I'd just left when the box opened up and Amanda started reassembling me. There was bright sunlight coming from somewhere, and . . . I thought I could hear waves somewhere off in the distance.
Then this beautiful blond girl picked me up—I mean, just stunning. She had broad shoulders and this platinum blond hair, the bluest eyes, a lovely mouth . . . she smiled and said in slightly accented English, "Welcome home, Nora." There were only two people who knew me as Nora, and this sure as shit wasn't Amanda. It had to be Ronnie—the "remade" Ronnie. She looked great. More than great— fantastic.
Finally I was completely together. I saw Ronnie and Amanda standing side-by-side, smiling. Ronnie had indeed been transformed: she was this tall, blond Amazon, the sort of girl that Amanda just loved—and which pulled at me in a strange was a well.
Amanda kissed my lips once more, just as she had when she'd shipped me off. "Welcome home, babe," she said softly. "A lot's happened since I sent you off—
"For example—" She walked over to the gauze curtains and threw them open. Beyond the window was sun, surf, and a deep blue ocean. "Honey, welcome to California . . .."
To be Continued—