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A man has intimate encounters with a Genie
magic transformation body horror
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Will and Claire become close to their siblings in a very intimate sense
The morning light was harsh through the blinds, slicing across the rumpled bed. Claire blinked, her head throbbing with a dull, medicinal ache. Something warm and soft was pressed against her. She looked down.
Amy was nestled in her arms, asleep, her blond hair fanned across the pillow. Except… Claire’s arms were thickly bandaged from wrist to elbow, and the body she held was decidedly male. The firm plane of a chest, the coarse hair on a forearm. Her heart began to hammer against her ribs.
“Amy?” she whispered, her voice a dry rasp. It came out wrong. Deeper. Rougher.
The body in her arms stirred. Blue eyes, so like Will’s, fluttered open. They widened in instant, sheer panic. “Frank? What the hell? Why are you… holding me?” The voice was high, melodic. Amy’s voice. But the tone was all Will—confused, irritable, direct.
Claire—in Frank’s body—pushed herself up on her elbows. Past the tangle of Amy’s blond hair, she saw the closet mirror. The reflection showed Frank’s familiar, lean frame, his own dark hair mussed from sleep, his bandaged arms wrapped around a petite, curvy Amy. But Amy’s face was contorted in a terror that wasn’t hers.
“Will?” Claire breathed, the name feeling foreign in this new throat. “Is that you in there?”
The person in Amy’s body scrambled back, the sheets pooling around a waist that was suddenly, distressingly narrow. “Claire? What did you call me?” He—Will—looked down at himself, at the pronounced swell of his sister’s breasts beneath the thin cotton sleep shirt, and his hands flew to his throat. “That’s my… this is Amy’s voice. What is this?”
“I think… I think I’m you,” Claire said, the reality of it dawning with a sick, dizzying weight. She swung Frank’s legs—her legs—out of bed. The movement was all wrong, the center of gravity shifted, a heavy, unfamiliar weight swinging between her thighs. She ignored it, for now. “The accident. The goodbye. Don’t you remember?”
Will—in Amy—stood up shakily. He looked down at his new body, his hands hovering over the generous curves. “I remember you… you and me, in the car. Crushed. Then nothing. Then waking up here, smothered by my little brother.” He shuddered, a full-body tremor that made the new flesh quiver. “This isn’t right. This is Amy.”
“And this is Frank,” Claire said, staring at Frank’s hands—her hands—as she flexed them. “We’re in our siblings. Our spouses’ siblings.” The sheer, grotesque improbability of it threatened to swallow her. But the throbbing in her bandaged arms was real. The discharge papers on the nightstand were real.
They found them, the crisp hospital printout. Franklin Miller, contusions, lacerations. Amy Miller, contusions, mild concussion. The names were wrong, but the injuries mapped. They had been patched up and sent home, two souls crammed into the wrong, aching containers.
Wordlessly, they moved to the kitchen, the beach house silent except for the distant crash of Pacific waves. The medical instructions said to clean and re-dress the wounds. They worked in a stunned quiet, Claire clumsily winding fresh gauze around Will-Amy’s slender forearm, Will using Amy’s delicate fingers to secure the wrap on Claire-Frank’s broader bicep with a efficiency that was utterly his own.
“We need to shower,” Will said finally, his voice tight. “We’re covered in road grit and… and whatever else.”
Claire nodded. It was practical. A step. They stood in the master bathroom, a spacious tiled room with a large glass-walled shower. The silence grew thick.
“Just… get it over with,” Will muttered, not looking at her. He—in Amy’s body—peeled the sleep shirt over his head, revealing Amy’s full, pale breasts. He froze, his breath catching, his face a mask of profound disorientation. Claire watched, a strange, detached part of her noting how Will’s shock did nothing to diminish the natural, ripe beauty of the form he now wore.
Swallowing hard, Claire turned her attention to Frank’s clothes. The jeans were awkward, the button fly an unfamiliar puzzle for her fingers. She got them open, pushed them down Frank’s hips. The boxer briefs followed. And there it was.
Frank’s penis, soft and nestled in a thatch of dark hair. It was… there. A presence. A weight. She stared at it, this alien appendage that was now, technically, hers. The core of her being, Claire, recoiled. But the body she inhabited didn’t. There was a low, curious hum of sensation, a connection to the thing that was both deeply wrong and undeniably physical.
Will had stripped completely now, standing naked by the sink. He was staring into the mirror, at Amy’s face, with a kind of horrified fascination. His hands skimmed over the dramatic hourglass curve of the hips, the soft swell of the stomach. “God,” he whispered.
“Don’t,” Claire said, her new voice gruff. “Just… don’t think. Clean. That’s all.”
They stepped into the shower together, a bizarre and intimate pantomime of their old married life. The water was hot, a welcome shock. Claire let it sluice over Frank’s broad shoulders, watching as Will soaped Amy’s body with a clinical, hurried desperation. The suds slid over smooth skin, over curves that Will had only ever seen on his sister from a detached, brotherly distance. Now he was mapping them with his own, stolen hands.
Claire’s own washing was more hesitant. The soap slid over Frank’s chest, flat and hard. Down the taut stomach. Her hand, wrapped in plastic to protect the bandages, hesitated again at the groin. She had to clean it. It was just a body part. A piece of biology.
She touched it. Frank’s flaccid penis was soft, vulnerable in her grip. She washed it quickly, the soap slick, her mind screaming the wrongness of it. But as her fingers moved, a jolt went through her—through Frank’s body. A thick, gathering tension. A flood of warmth that had nothing to do with the shower. She gasped, and the thing in her hand began to change, to swell and stiffen, lengthening and thickening in a way that was utterly, overwhelmingly male.
In the mirror of her mind, she was still Claire. But the sensation… the sensation was a deep, insistent pulse, a claiming of blood and flesh that centered entirely on that stretching, hardening shaft. It felt powerful. It felt hungry.
She looked up, water streaming down Frank’s face, and met Will’s eyes. He had seen. He was staring, not at her face, but lower, at the clear, hard evidence of the body’s response. In his own new body, Amy’s body, a sympathetic flush spread across the chest and throat.
“It’s… it’s just the heat,” Claire stammered, the excuse weak even to her own ears.
Will didn’t answer. He was looking down now, at Amy’s body. At the space between her legs. His expression was one of dawning, awful comprehension. “It would… it would stretch,” he said, his voice hollow. “Wouldn’t it? If we… that would stretch this.” He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. The image was there, brutal and visceral: the thick, hard length of Frank, of the penis Claire now felt twitching in her hand, pushing into the tight, small space that was now his.
The thought should have revolted him. It should have revolted her. But standing there in the steam, with the water beating down on their stolen, aching forms, it didn’t. It hummed between them, a forbidden current. A terrible, logical next step. The body Claire was in throbbed with a need that was entirely about filling a space, about the profound, physical truth of fit and stretch. And the body Will was in, for all his mental horror, seemed to soften in response, a faint, unfamiliar ache blooming low in Amy’s belly.
They finished rinsing in silence, the air crackling with things unsaid. They toweled off, avoiding each other’s eyes, avoiding looking too long at the reflections in the fogged-up glass. They were two people, stranded in the wrong skins, with the ghosts of their spouses between them and a terrifying, tantalizing new physics of flesh beckoning from the shadows of their own home.
The morning light was harsh through the blinds, slicing across the rumpled bed. Claire blinked, her head throbbing with a dull, medicinal ache. Something warm and soft was pressed against her. She looked down.
Amy was nestled in her arms, asleep, her blond hair fanned across the pillow. Except… Claire’s arms were thickly bandaged from wrist to elbow, and the body she held was decidedly male. The firm plane of a chest, the coarse hair on a forearm. Her heart began to hammer against her ribs.
“Amy?” she whispered, her voice a dry rasp. It came out wrong. Deeper. Rougher.
The body in her arms stirred. Blue eyes, so like Will’s, fluttered open. They widened in instant, sheer panic. “Frank? What the hell? Why are you… holding me?” The voice was high, melodic. Amy’s voice. But the tone was all Will—confused, irritable, direct.
Claire—in Frank’s body—pushed herself up on her elbows. Past the tangle of Amy’s blond hair, she saw the closet mirror. The reflection showed Frank’s familiar, lean frame, his own dark hair mussed from sleep, his bandaged arms wrapped around a petite, curvy Amy. But Amy’s face was contorted in a terror that wasn’t hers.
“Will?” Claire breathed, the name feeling foreign in this new throat. “Is that you in there?”
The person in Amy’s body scrambled back, the sheets pooling around a waist that was suddenly, distressingly narrow. “Claire? What did you call me?” He—Will—looked down at himself, at the pronounced swell of his sister’s breasts beneath the thin cotton sleep shirt, and his hands flew to his throat. “That’s my… this is Amy’s voice. What is this?”
“I think… I think I’m you,” Claire said, the reality of it dawning with a sick, dizzying weight. She swung Frank’s legs—her legs—out of bed. The movement was all wrong, the center of gravity shifted, a heavy, unfamiliar weight swinging between her thighs. She ignored it, for now. “The accident. The goodbye. Don’t you remember?”
Will—in Amy—stood up shakily. He looked down at his new body, his hands hovering over the generous curves. “I remember you… you and me, in the car. Crushed. Then nothing. Then waking up here, smothered by my little brother.” He shuddered, a full-body tremor that made the new flesh quiver. “This isn’t right. This is Amy.”
“And this is Frank,” Claire said, staring at Frank’s hands—her hands—as she flexed them. “We’re in our siblings. Our spouses’ siblings.” The sheer, grotesque improbability of it threatened to swallow her. But the throbbing in her bandaged arms was real. The discharge papers on the nightstand were real.
They found them, the crisp hospital printout. Franklin Miller, contusions, lacerations. Amy Miller, contusions, mild concussion. The names were wrong, but the injuries mapped. They had been patched up and sent home, two souls crammed into the wrong, aching containers.
Wordlessly, they moved to the kitchen, the beach house silent except for the distant crash of Pacific waves. The medical instructions said to clean and re-dress the wounds. They worked in a stunned quiet, Claire clumsily winding fresh gauze around Will-Amy’s slender forearm, Will using Amy’s delicate fingers to secure the wrap on Claire-Frank’s broader bicep with a efficiency that was utterly his own.
“We need to shower,” Will said finally, his voice tight. “We’re covered in road grit and… and whatever else.”
Claire nodded. It was practical. A step. They stood in the master bathroom, a spacious tiled room with a large glass-walled shower. The silence grew thick.
“Just… get it over with,” Will muttered, not looking at her. He—in Amy’s body—peeled the sleep shirt over his head, revealing Amy’s full, pale breasts. He froze, his breath catching, his face a mask of profound disorientation. Claire watched, a strange, detached part of her noting how Will’s shock did nothing to diminish the natural, ripe beauty of the form he now wore.
Swallowing hard, Claire turned her attention to Frank’s clothes. The jeans were awkward, the button fly an unfamiliar puzzle for her fingers. She got them open, pushed them down Frank’s hips. The boxer briefs followed. And there it was.
Frank’s penis, soft and nestled in a thatch of dark hair. It was… there. A presence. A weight. She stared at it, this alien appendage that was now, technically, hers. The core of her being, Claire, recoiled. But the body she inhabited didn’t. There was a low, curious hum of sensation, a connection to the thing that was both deeply wrong and undeniably physical.
Will had stripped completely now, standing naked by the sink. He was staring into the mirror, at Amy’s face, with a kind of horrified fascination. His hands skimmed over the dramatic hourglass curve of the hips, the soft swell of the stomach. “God,” he whispered.
“Don’t,” Claire said, her new voice gruff. “Just… don’t think. Clean. That’s all.”
They stepped into the shower together, a bizarre and intimate pantomime of their old married life. The water was hot, a welcome shock. Claire let it sluice over Frank’s broad shoulders, watching as Will soaped Amy’s body with a clinical, hurried desperation. The suds slid over smooth skin, over curves that Will had only ever seen on his sister from a detached, brotherly distance. Now he was mapping them with his own, stolen hands.
Claire’s own washing was more hesitant. The soap slid over Frank’s chest, flat and hard. Down the taut stomach. Her hand, wrapped in plastic to protect the bandages, hesitated again at the groin. She had to clean it. It was just a body part. A piece of biology.
She touched it. Frank’s flaccid penis was soft, vulnerable in her grip. She washed it quickly, the soap slick, her mind screaming the wrongness of it. But as her fingers moved, a jolt went through her—through Frank’s body. A thick, gathering tension. A flood of warmth that had nothing to do with the shower. She gasped, and the thing in her hand began to change, to swell and stiffen, lengthening and thickening in a way that was utterly, overwhelmingly male.
In the mirror of her mind, she was still Claire. But the sensation… the sensation was a deep, insistent pulse, a claiming of blood and flesh that centered entirely on that stretching, hardening shaft. It felt powerful. It felt hungry.
She looked up, water streaming down Frank’s face, and met Will’s eyes. He had seen. He was staring, not at her face, but lower, at the clear, hard evidence of the body’s response. In his own new body, Amy’s body, a sympathetic flush spread across the chest and throat.
“It’s… it’s just the heat,” Claire stammered, the excuse weak even to her own ears.
Will didn’t answer. He was looking down now, at Amy’s body. At the space between her legs. His expression was one of dawning, awful comprehension. “It would… it would stretch,” he said, his voice hollow. “Wouldn’t it? If we… that would stretch this.” He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. The image was there, brutal and visceral: the thick, hard length of Frank, of the penis Claire now felt twitching in her hand, pushing into the tight, small space that was now his.
The thought should have revolted him. It should have revolted her. But standing there in the steam, with the water beating down on their stolen, aching forms, it didn’t. It hummed between them, a forbidden current. A terrible, logical next step. The body Claire was in throbbed with a need that was entirely about filling a space, about the profound, physical truth of fit and stretch. And the body Will was in, for all his mental horror, seemed to soften in response, a faint, unfamiliar ache blooming low in Amy’s belly.
They finished rinsing in silence, the air crackling with things unsaid. They toweled off, avoiding each other’s eyes, avoiding looking too long at the reflections in the fogged-up glass. They were two people, stranded in the wrong skins, with the ghosts of their spouses between them and a terrifying, tantalizing new physics of flesh beckoning from the shadows of their own home.
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Vega's BEAUTIFUL face is destroyed by Chun Li so he replaces it.
A reimagining of 'Palette Swap' by Team Lady Valiant & FarhadTG
The final kick landed with a sickening crack. My heel connected squarely with Vega's porcelain mask, shattering it—and the bone beneath—with a sound like splintering china. He went down hard, clutching his ruined face, blood seeping between his perfect fingers. For a moment, there was only his ragged breathing and the ringing in my ears.
Then he started to laugh.
"Beautiful... so beautiful..." he gurgled through the wreckage of his jaw, his once-perfect features now a jigsaw puzzle of gore and ceramic shards. His free hand fumbled at his belt, producing a small device I recognized from Bison's labs. "But beauty... can be transferred."
"No—!" I lunged forward, but too late. He pressed the trigger.
The world exploded in white light and static. I felt myself falling, spinning, my consciousness ripping away from my body like silk tearing. When I could see again, I was looking up at the ceiling from the floor, my perspective completely wrong. Vega's hands—my hands now—rose into view. Long-fingered and pale. I touched my face and felt bandages, surgical tape, the swollen flesh beneath.
Across from me, Vega—now wearing my body—stood staring down at itself with wide, hungry eyes. He immediately grabbed the neckline of my qipao top and tore it open, exposing the breasts I'd known my whole life as if seeing them for the first time. "Exquisite," he breathed in my voice, a sound so wrong it made my stomach turn. He cupped them, his fingers—my fingers once—squeezing the weight of them with obscene fascination.
"Three days later."
The words felt surreal to even think. Three days of surgery, of recovery, of Vega preening and parading in my skin while I lay in his bed, trapped in his broken body. I shifted against silk sheets that smelled of roses and blood, trying to find a position that didn't send agony lancing through Vega's four fractured ribs—my fractured ribs now.
The bedroom door opened. Vega entered—not the Vega I'd fought, but the Vega who now wore my face and form. He'd styled my hair into his signature braid, the dark ropes hanging over one shoulder. My breasts—his breasts now—were completely exposed, moving with a bounce and weight I intimately understood but had never witnessed from this angle. His nipples, my nipples once, were hard on my former breasts and already healed into them was a matching version of Vega's serpent tattoo, coiling around his left breast.
He wore the ceremonial trousers of a matador in murrey and yellow, so tight they might have been painted on. Every curve of what had been my hips, my ass, my thighs—his now—was outlined in devastating detail. The white leggings hugged his calves, the red sash cinched his waist, and the loafers clicked softly on the marble floor. There was no shirt, no vest, no modesty whatsoever.
"How are we feeling today, my beautiful monster?" he purred in my voice, running his hands down his bare torso, fingers tracing the new tattoo. "I've been breaking in your body. The flexibility is... inspiring."
I pushed myself up on Vega's arms—my arms now—so much stronger than my own had been, but currently useless thanks to the ribs. I wore the masculine version of my Street Fighter Alpha outfit: an embroidered vest that strained across his broad shoulders, a navy unitard that did nothing to hide the evidence of my new anatomy, athletic shoes, and studded wristbands. My face was still wrapped in bandages, Napoleon's guise hiding the damage I'd inflicted.
"You're a psychopath," I rasped, his voice grating in my throat.
"I'm an artist," he corrected, striking a pose that made his—my breasts once—lift and press together. "And I've finally achieved my masterpiece. The face I was always meant to have, the body I've coveted for years. But..." He frowned, touching his bandaged visage on my body. "I still need to fix this. Your brutality marred perfection."
Despite everything, despite the pain and violation, I felt a strange heat pooling in my new groin as I watched him touch what had been my face. My old body was undeniably beautiful, even under his control. And his body... I flexed Vega's powerful thighs—my thighs now—felt the weight of different muscles, the tightness of the unitard against an erection I hadn't asked for.
His eyes—my eyes once—caught the movement. "Ah, I see my husband is adjusting. Good." He began to pace, each step deliberate, making my former hips sway. "I've been thinking, my love. About our arrangement. You gave me this gift, this perfect vessel. And I realized something." He stopped at the foot of the bed, hands on what had been my hips. "I'm in love. With you. With the fighter who broke me, who made this possible."
My breath caught. "You're insane."
"Perhaps." He smiled with my lips, then reached down and began to touch himself through the impossibly tight matador trousers. "But watch how your former body responds to the truth." One hand squeezed his breast—the weight of it filling his palm perfectly—while the other rubbed slow circles between his legs. "I've been touching myself constantly, wife. Learning every secret you kept hidden. Did you know you could get this wet?"
He turned, presenting the profile of my former body, and I watched in horrified fascination as his fingers worked faster. The trousers were so tight I could see the outline of his hand, the way the fabric pulled and strained. He was getting wet—I could smell it, that familiar scent from a foreign source, and the dark patch spreading across the murrey fabric.
"Vega, stop—" I protested, but my new voice was weak.
"Why? This is as much yours as mine now." He approached the bed, leaning over my new crotch, my former breasts—his breasts now—swaying. "Let me show you what I've learned as your wife."
His hands moved to my unitard, and before I could protest, he tore the reinforced fabric between my legs with shocking ease. Vega's cock sprang free, already hard and throbbing. I gasped at the sensation—so different, so urgent.
"Beautiful," he whispered, taking it in my former hands. "Just like the rest of your husband."
Then he leaned forward and pressed my erection between his breasts—the breasts I'd once soaped in the shower, the breasts that had fit into specific sports bras, the breasts that were now his to wield as mother to my fatherhood. The sensation was overwhelming. He squeezed them together, creating a channel of soft, yielding flesh, and began to move.
"Watch," he commanded in my voice, looking down at me with my own dark eyes—his eyes now. "Watch what you made of your wife."
He worked faster, the gold rings in his nipples glinting, his braid swinging with each motion. The pleasure built in this unfamiliar body, coiling tighter and tighter. When he lowered his mouth to the tip and took me—Vega—between my own lips—his lips now—I couldn't hold back.
The orgasm ripped through me, a different kind of explosion than any kick or punch. He swallowed, his throat working in a way I'd never felt, then released me with a satisfied smile. Vega's cock—my cock now—still twitched, half-hard and sensitive.
"There," he purred, wiping his mouth with the back of my former hand. "Now we understand each other, husband."
I was panting, each breath sending pain through Vega's ribs—my ribs now. "More," I managed, hips still twitching with aftershocks. "I want..."
"Shhh." He leaned close, my former breasts—his breasts now—pressing against the vest covering his old chest. "Your body is still healing. I had to have extensive reconstructive surgery on your face, you know. These ribs need time." He whispered in my ear, his breath hot against skin that was his but now mine: "We have all the time in the world, my love. When you're whole again, your wife will take you so much further."
He kissed the bandages covering Vega's ruined features—my ruined features now—then rose from the bed, adjusting his trousers with a satisfied smile. My body left the room with his swagger, the door clicking shut behind him.
I collapsed back against the pillows, remembering as Vega removed his breasts from my half-hard penis, the wetness left behind cooling in the air. My mind reeled with the obscene intimacy of what we'd just done. Three days in, and I was already lost, already thinking of this monster in my skin as "my wife." How many more until I didn't want to find my way back?
A reimagining of 'Palette Swap' by Team Lady Valiant & FarhadTG
The final kick landed with a sickening crack. My heel connected squarely with Vega's porcelain mask, shattering it—and the bone beneath—with a sound like splintering china. He went down hard, clutching his ruined face, blood seeping between his perfect fingers. For a moment, there was only his ragged breathing and the ringing in my ears.
Then he started to laugh.
"Beautiful... so beautiful..." he gurgled through the wreckage of his jaw, his once-perfect features now a jigsaw puzzle of gore and ceramic shards. His free hand fumbled at his belt, producing a small device I recognized from Bison's labs. "But beauty... can be transferred."
"No—!" I lunged forward, but too late. He pressed the trigger.
The world exploded in white light and static. I felt myself falling, spinning, my consciousness ripping away from my body like silk tearing. When I could see again, I was looking up at the ceiling from the floor, my perspective completely wrong. Vega's hands—my hands now—rose into view. Long-fingered and pale. I touched my face and felt bandages, surgical tape, the swollen flesh beneath.
Across from me, Vega—now wearing my body—stood staring down at itself with wide, hungry eyes. He immediately grabbed the neckline of my qipao top and tore it open, exposing the breasts I'd known my whole life as if seeing them for the first time. "Exquisite," he breathed in my voice, a sound so wrong it made my stomach turn. He cupped them, his fingers—my fingers once—squeezing the weight of them with obscene fascination.
"Three days later."
The words felt surreal to even think. Three days of surgery, of recovery, of Vega preening and parading in my skin while I lay in his bed, trapped in his broken body. I shifted against silk sheets that smelled of roses and blood, trying to find a position that didn't send agony lancing through Vega's four fractured ribs—my fractured ribs now.
The bedroom door opened. Vega entered—not the Vega I'd fought, but the Vega who now wore my face and form. He'd styled my hair into his signature braid, the dark ropes hanging over one shoulder. My breasts—his breasts now—were completely exposed, moving with a bounce and weight I intimately understood but had never witnessed from this angle. His nipples, my nipples once, were hard on my former breasts and already healed into them was a matching version of Vega's serpent tattoo, coiling around his left breast.
He wore the ceremonial trousers of a matador in murrey and yellow, so tight they might have been painted on. Every curve of what had been my hips, my ass, my thighs—his now—was outlined in devastating detail. The white leggings hugged his calves, the red sash cinched his waist, and the loafers clicked softly on the marble floor. There was no shirt, no vest, no modesty whatsoever.
"How are we feeling today, my beautiful monster?" he purred in my voice, running his hands down his bare torso, fingers tracing the new tattoo. "I've been breaking in your body. The flexibility is... inspiring."
I pushed myself up on Vega's arms—my arms now—so much stronger than my own had been, but currently useless thanks to the ribs. I wore the masculine version of my Street Fighter Alpha outfit: an embroidered vest that strained across his broad shoulders, a navy unitard that did nothing to hide the evidence of my new anatomy, athletic shoes, and studded wristbands. My face was still wrapped in bandages, Napoleon's guise hiding the damage I'd inflicted.
"You're a psychopath," I rasped, his voice grating in my throat.
"I'm an artist," he corrected, striking a pose that made his—my breasts once—lift and press together. "And I've finally achieved my masterpiece. The face I was always meant to have, the body I've coveted for years. But..." He frowned, touching his bandaged visage on my body. "I still need to fix this. Your brutality marred perfection."
Despite everything, despite the pain and violation, I felt a strange heat pooling in my new groin as I watched him touch what had been my face. My old body was undeniably beautiful, even under his control. And his body... I flexed Vega's powerful thighs—my thighs now—felt the weight of different muscles, the tightness of the unitard against an erection I hadn't asked for.
His eyes—my eyes once—caught the movement. "Ah, I see my husband is adjusting. Good." He began to pace, each step deliberate, making my former hips sway. "I've been thinking, my love. About our arrangement. You gave me this gift, this perfect vessel. And I realized something." He stopped at the foot of the bed, hands on what had been my hips. "I'm in love. With you. With the fighter who broke me, who made this possible."
My breath caught. "You're insane."
"Perhaps." He smiled with my lips, then reached down and began to touch himself through the impossibly tight matador trousers. "But watch how your former body responds to the truth." One hand squeezed his breast—the weight of it filling his palm perfectly—while the other rubbed slow circles between his legs. "I've been touching myself constantly, wife. Learning every secret you kept hidden. Did you know you could get this wet?"
He turned, presenting the profile of my former body, and I watched in horrified fascination as his fingers worked faster. The trousers were so tight I could see the outline of his hand, the way the fabric pulled and strained. He was getting wet—I could smell it, that familiar scent from a foreign source, and the dark patch spreading across the murrey fabric.
"Vega, stop—" I protested, but my new voice was weak.
"Why? This is as much yours as mine now." He approached the bed, leaning over my new crotch, my former breasts—his breasts now—swaying. "Let me show you what I've learned as your wife."
His hands moved to my unitard, and before I could protest, he tore the reinforced fabric between my legs with shocking ease. Vega's cock sprang free, already hard and throbbing. I gasped at the sensation—so different, so urgent.
"Beautiful," he whispered, taking it in my former hands. "Just like the rest of your husband."
Then he leaned forward and pressed my erection between his breasts—the breasts I'd once soaped in the shower, the breasts that had fit into specific sports bras, the breasts that were now his to wield as mother to my fatherhood. The sensation was overwhelming. He squeezed them together, creating a channel of soft, yielding flesh, and began to move.
"Watch," he commanded in my voice, looking down at me with my own dark eyes—his eyes now. "Watch what you made of your wife."
He worked faster, the gold rings in his nipples glinting, his braid swinging with each motion. The pleasure built in this unfamiliar body, coiling tighter and tighter. When he lowered his mouth to the tip and took me—Vega—between my own lips—his lips now—I couldn't hold back.
The orgasm ripped through me, a different kind of explosion than any kick or punch. He swallowed, his throat working in a way I'd never felt, then released me with a satisfied smile. Vega's cock—my cock now—still twitched, half-hard and sensitive.
"There," he purred, wiping his mouth with the back of my former hand. "Now we understand each other, husband."
I was panting, each breath sending pain through Vega's ribs—my ribs now. "More," I managed, hips still twitching with aftershocks. "I want..."
"Shhh." He leaned close, my former breasts—his breasts now—pressing against the vest covering his old chest. "Your body is still healing. I had to have extensive reconstructive surgery on your face, you know. These ribs need time." He whispered in my ear, his breath hot against skin that was his but now mine: "We have all the time in the world, my love. When you're whole again, your wife will take you so much further."
He kissed the bandages covering Vega's ruined features—my ruined features now—then rose from the bed, adjusting his trousers with a satisfied smile. My body left the room with his swagger, the door clicking shut behind him.
I collapsed back against the pillows, remembering as Vega removed his breasts from my half-hard penis, the wetness left behind cooling in the air. My mind reeled with the obscene intimacy of what we'd just done. Three days in, and I was already lost, already thinking of this monster in my skin as "my wife." How many more until I didn't want to find my way back?
body swap
+2 more
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0
0
A witch is invited to a college party and offers a special game of Beer Pong. It is a very special version of hooking up.
The silence in the room was thick enough to chew. All eyes were locked on Keisha and the impossible sight of Tai’s arms buried deep within her. Her face was a mask of pure, unadulterated fury, her body trembling not with fear, but with volcanic rage.
“Maybe I can dig it out with my other hand?” Tai offered, his voice muffled and strained from inside her.
“TAI! DON’T YOU DA—” Keisha’s command was obliterated by a guttural, choking scream as his second hand plunged in after the first, the tight ring of muscle at her entrance stretching with an audible, wet sssskkkrtch to accommodate the double intrusion. Inside, the sensation was beyond anything she could have conceived. It wasn't just a presence; it was a colonizing force. She could feel the precise shape of his fingers, the rough texture of his palms as they brushed against her most intimate internal walls, exploring, mapping her from the inside out. A hot, full pressure began to build deep in her core, a feeling of being packed, filled beyond her limits.
“Vivian,” Keisha hissed, her voice dripping with venom, every word a struggle. “There is currently a Korean man wedged shoulder deep in my anal cavity. Would you PLEASE do something about it before he explodes out through my stomach?”
Vivian’s eyes lit up with demonic glee. “Oooh, do something about it?! I thought you’d never ask!” She practically skipped behind Keisha, placing her small foot squarely on the small of Tai’s back, the only part of him still visible.
The kick wasn’t forceful, but it was decisive. With a sound like a giant cork being pulled from a bottle of thick oil, followed by a deep, resonant FWUMP, Tai’s torso was suddenly propelled inward. Keisha’s eyes shot wide, then instantly rolled back into her head, a strangled grunt the only protest she could muster as her body accepted the violation. Her glorious, sculpted ass cheeks quivered violently before clapping together with a final, wet smack, sealing Tai completely inside her. For a moment, she stood there, stunned, her body humming with the shock of the intrusion.
Then, the real transformation began.
A distinct bulge, the unmistakable outline of a man’s face, pushed against the tight, toned skin of her lower abdomen. Keisha looked down, her horror reflected in the faces of the onlookers. “Wha— what is that?” she gasped, her hands flying to the protrusion. As she touched it, the face within seemed to smile, stretching her skin grotesquely.
The rest of Tai followed in a relentless, internal avalanche. She felt him bundling into her stomach, a tangle of limbs and mass forcing her midsection to distend outward. Her flat, hard-won abs disappeared, replaced by a bloated, pregnant dome that strained her skin. Inside, it was a maelstrom. Tai, disoriented and panicked, began to thrash. His knees jerked, and Keisha’s legs buckled involuntarily. His elbows flailed, and her arms spasmed at her sides. She stumbled, a marionette with a frantic puppeteer trapped inside her, emitting a series of choked yelps and moans with every involuntary movement.
“You said you were going to help!” Keisha accused Vivian, her voice wavering as she struggled to remain upright.
Vivian just blinked. “I did help you. Is he still stuck?”
Keisha’s mental struggle was a silent scream in a dissolving prison. My body! This is MY body! she thought, a mantra of defiance. But with every thrash, Tai’s consciousness seeped into her nerves, his confusion and panic becoming her own. She felt his legs, strong and muscular, sliding into the length of her own. It was a horrifying, stretching sensation, like her bones were being remolded. Her thighs, already powerful, gained a new, thicker solidity. Her calves tightened. And then, with a final, psychic click, control of her legs was severed from her brain and handed over to his. He was in charge of moving them now.
The loss of autonomy was more terrifying than the physical invasion. She tried to command her legs to step forward, but they remained rooted. Instead, Tai, blindly seeking leverage, forced them to collapse.
She fell backward, her enormous new ass—now the seat of his consciousness—thudding onto the carpet with a jiggle that sent a shockwave through her frame. The impact seemed to energize him. Using the new-found anchor of her lower body, he began to push upward, trying to climb out of the fleshy well of her torso.
Keisha’s upper body was dragged across the floor, her back arching, her head lolling. She was a passenger, forced to feel every graze of the carpet, every powerful, uncoordinated jerk. Next, his arms slipped into hers. The feeling was one of overwhelming fullness; her biceps and forearms thickened, gaining a lean, wiry strength that was entirely his. Her hands, once her own, now felt alien, their movements his impulses.
The final assault was on her head. The bulging face in her stomach began its ascent, tunneling up through her organs, a relentless pressure moving up her diaphragm, between her lungs, pushing her breasts aside. She could feel the shape of his nose, his lips, his brow ridge moving up through her core. Her neck distended, a grotesque balloon animal version of itself as his head forced its way into the column. She arched her back, a final, desperate attempt to keep her own head above the rising tide of him, her eyes locking with Vivian’s in a final promise of vengeance.
“Remember, bitch. I WILL get you back for this.”
It was her last coherent thought. His skull pressed up against the base of her own, and with a final, full-body spasm that was entirely his doing, he merged. It was like a key turning in a lock. Her consciousness didn’t vanish; it was simply… submerged, pushed into a tiny, dark corner of her own mind. She was aware, but she was no longer in control. She could only watch, a ghost in her own machine, as her eyes—his eyes now—snapped open.
“Holy shit, was that a ride!” The voice that came from her mouth was Tai’s—his cadence, his excited pitch—but filtered through Keisha’s softer vocal cords, creating a strange, androgynous sound. He sat up, using her hands to grab a fistful of her own wispy raven hair, his amazement palpable. “Thank god I landed on this bean bag when I fell though, I’d hate to damage the goods before I got to sample them!” He chuckled, patting the generous curve of her ass beneath him.
From the corner, Danny, still lounging on the actual beanbag, piped up. “But dude, I’m on the bean bag! You didn’t land on anything bro. That’s just Keisha’s…”
A look of dawning, ecstatic comprehension spread across Keisha’s features—Tai’s expressions now. “OH SWEET MOSES!” he exclaimed, the voice a perfect blend of his shock and her tone. He scrambled to his feet—her feet—with an agility that was all his. His hands, her hands, flew to the monumental cheeks he’d just been sitting on, groping and kneading the flesh with ravenous disbelief.
The sensation was double-layered: Tai’s euphoric discovery and, buried deep within, Keisha’s mortified, screaming silence as she felt her own hands violating her in ways she never had. He shook his—their—hips, watching in a nearby reflective surface as the jiggle propagated in a wave of mesmerizing motion.
“Is this what she feels ALL THE TIME!” he whooped, his laughter echoing in the silent, stunned room. Inside, Keisha fought, a desperate mental push against a wall of overwhelming control. She tried to scream, to regain a muscle, but was pulled into Tai. She was no longer separate but now a part of Tai. Her body was no longer hers. It was now Taisha’s. And Taisha was thrilled.
The silence in the room was thick enough to chew. All eyes were locked on Keisha and the impossible sight of Tai’s arms buried deep within her. Her face was a mask of pure, unadulterated fury, her body trembling not with fear, but with volcanic rage.
“Maybe I can dig it out with my other hand?” Tai offered, his voice muffled and strained from inside her.
“TAI! DON’T YOU DA—” Keisha’s command was obliterated by a guttural, choking scream as his second hand plunged in after the first, the tight ring of muscle at her entrance stretching with an audible, wet sssskkkrtch to accommodate the double intrusion. Inside, the sensation was beyond anything she could have conceived. It wasn't just a presence; it was a colonizing force. She could feel the precise shape of his fingers, the rough texture of his palms as they brushed against her most intimate internal walls, exploring, mapping her from the inside out. A hot, full pressure began to build deep in her core, a feeling of being packed, filled beyond her limits.
“Vivian,” Keisha hissed, her voice dripping with venom, every word a struggle. “There is currently a Korean man wedged shoulder deep in my anal cavity. Would you PLEASE do something about it before he explodes out through my stomach?”
Vivian’s eyes lit up with demonic glee. “Oooh, do something about it?! I thought you’d never ask!” She practically skipped behind Keisha, placing her small foot squarely on the small of Tai’s back, the only part of him still visible.
The kick wasn’t forceful, but it was decisive. With a sound like a giant cork being pulled from a bottle of thick oil, followed by a deep, resonant FWUMP, Tai’s torso was suddenly propelled inward. Keisha’s eyes shot wide, then instantly rolled back into her head, a strangled grunt the only protest she could muster as her body accepted the violation. Her glorious, sculpted ass cheeks quivered violently before clapping together with a final, wet smack, sealing Tai completely inside her. For a moment, she stood there, stunned, her body humming with the shock of the intrusion.
Then, the real transformation began.
A distinct bulge, the unmistakable outline of a man’s face, pushed against the tight, toned skin of her lower abdomen. Keisha looked down, her horror reflected in the faces of the onlookers. “Wha— what is that?” she gasped, her hands flying to the protrusion. As she touched it, the face within seemed to smile, stretching her skin grotesquely.
The rest of Tai followed in a relentless, internal avalanche. She felt him bundling into her stomach, a tangle of limbs and mass forcing her midsection to distend outward. Her flat, hard-won abs disappeared, replaced by a bloated, pregnant dome that strained her skin. Inside, it was a maelstrom. Tai, disoriented and panicked, began to thrash. His knees jerked, and Keisha’s legs buckled involuntarily. His elbows flailed, and her arms spasmed at her sides. She stumbled, a marionette with a frantic puppeteer trapped inside her, emitting a series of choked yelps and moans with every involuntary movement.
“You said you were going to help!” Keisha accused Vivian, her voice wavering as she struggled to remain upright.
Vivian just blinked. “I did help you. Is he still stuck?”
Keisha’s mental struggle was a silent scream in a dissolving prison. My body! This is MY body! she thought, a mantra of defiance. But with every thrash, Tai’s consciousness seeped into her nerves, his confusion and panic becoming her own. She felt his legs, strong and muscular, sliding into the length of her own. It was a horrifying, stretching sensation, like her bones were being remolded. Her thighs, already powerful, gained a new, thicker solidity. Her calves tightened. And then, with a final, psychic click, control of her legs was severed from her brain and handed over to his. He was in charge of moving them now.
The loss of autonomy was more terrifying than the physical invasion. She tried to command her legs to step forward, but they remained rooted. Instead, Tai, blindly seeking leverage, forced them to collapse.
She fell backward, her enormous new ass—now the seat of his consciousness—thudding onto the carpet with a jiggle that sent a shockwave through her frame. The impact seemed to energize him. Using the new-found anchor of her lower body, he began to push upward, trying to climb out of the fleshy well of her torso.
Keisha’s upper body was dragged across the floor, her back arching, her head lolling. She was a passenger, forced to feel every graze of the carpet, every powerful, uncoordinated jerk. Next, his arms slipped into hers. The feeling was one of overwhelming fullness; her biceps and forearms thickened, gaining a lean, wiry strength that was entirely his. Her hands, once her own, now felt alien, their movements his impulses.
The final assault was on her head. The bulging face in her stomach began its ascent, tunneling up through her organs, a relentless pressure moving up her diaphragm, between her lungs, pushing her breasts aside. She could feel the shape of his nose, his lips, his brow ridge moving up through her core. Her neck distended, a grotesque balloon animal version of itself as his head forced its way into the column. She arched her back, a final, desperate attempt to keep her own head above the rising tide of him, her eyes locking with Vivian’s in a final promise of vengeance.
“Remember, bitch. I WILL get you back for this.”
It was her last coherent thought. His skull pressed up against the base of her own, and with a final, full-body spasm that was entirely his doing, he merged. It was like a key turning in a lock. Her consciousness didn’t vanish; it was simply… submerged, pushed into a tiny, dark corner of her own mind. She was aware, but she was no longer in control. She could only watch, a ghost in her own machine, as her eyes—his eyes now—snapped open.
“Holy shit, was that a ride!” The voice that came from her mouth was Tai’s—his cadence, his excited pitch—but filtered through Keisha’s softer vocal cords, creating a strange, androgynous sound. He sat up, using her hands to grab a fistful of her own wispy raven hair, his amazement palpable. “Thank god I landed on this bean bag when I fell though, I’d hate to damage the goods before I got to sample them!” He chuckled, patting the generous curve of her ass beneath him.
From the corner, Danny, still lounging on the actual beanbag, piped up. “But dude, I’m on the bean bag! You didn’t land on anything bro. That’s just Keisha’s…”
A look of dawning, ecstatic comprehension spread across Keisha’s features—Tai’s expressions now. “OH SWEET MOSES!” he exclaimed, the voice a perfect blend of his shock and her tone. He scrambled to his feet—her feet—with an agility that was all his. His hands, her hands, flew to the monumental cheeks he’d just been sitting on, groping and kneading the flesh with ravenous disbelief.
The sensation was double-layered: Tai’s euphoric discovery and, buried deep within, Keisha’s mortified, screaming silence as she felt her own hands violating her in ways she never had. He shook his—their—hips, watching in a nearby reflective surface as the jiggle propagated in a wave of mesmerizing motion.
“Is this what she feels ALL THE TIME!” he whooped, his laughter echoing in the silent, stunned room. Inside, Keisha fought, a desperate mental push against a wall of overwhelming control. She tried to scream, to regain a muscle, but was pulled into Tai. She was no longer separate but now a part of Tai. Her body was no longer hers. It was now Taisha’s. And Taisha was thrilled.
possession
+7 more
6
8.5K
1
1
Stacey and her team are chosen to fight an alien invasion
It all started during what should’ve been just another grueling practice session under the sweltering Texas sun. Sweat stung my eyes, and my muscles screamed in protest with every high kick and flip. I was Stacey Robinson, head cheerleader of the Northwood Wildcats, and we were running the pyramid sequence for what felt like the hundredth time.
That’s when the sky tore open.
Not with a crack of thunder, but with a soft, shimmering hum. A light, gentle as a sunbeam, descended, and out stepped a figure that looked less like an alien invader and more like a yoga instructor from a high-end spa. He was tall, slender, with skin that shimmered like mother-of-pearl and eyes the color of a calm sea. He introduced himself as Nagai, an emissary from a distant star.
“Stacey Robinson,” he said, his voice like a melody. “Your world is in grave, albeit peculiar, danger.”
We all just stared, too shocked to even drop our pom-poms.
He explained that an ancient cosmic ruler, a being of immense vanity and twisted ideals, was approaching Earth. Her name was Queen Adiposa, and her goal was to impose her own standard of beauty upon the universe: to make fat not just acceptable, but the only form of beauty, eradicating all others. Her method? A wave of transformative energy, preceded by an army of minions who looked… well, like unnaturally enthusiastic Planet Fitness trainers in their purple and yellow uniforms, forever chanting about “no judgement.”
“Your spirit, your power, your unity,” Nagai said, his gaze sweeping over my team—Chloe, Hannah, Zoe, Maya, and Brianna. “You six are the only ones who can stop her. You will become my champions. The Supersonic Pussy Rangers.”
We glanced at each other. The name was ridiculous. The situation was insane. But the look in Nagai’s eyes was dead serious.
A wave of his hand, and a flash of light enveloped us. I felt a surge of power, a buzzing energy that settled deep in my core. When the light faded, we were all clad in skintight suits. Mine was a vibrant, commanding red. Chloe got pink, Hannah yellow, Zoe a deep purple, and Maya a cool aqua. And then there was Brianna.
Brianna, already the bustiest of us by a mile, was… naked. But not just naked. Her suit was a shimmering, barely-there layer of light that did nothing to conceal her incredible figure. Nagai hadn’t been kidding about the name. Her breasts were so magnificently large, so breathtakingly full, they truly looked like they could swallow a person’s head whole.
“Your power will manifest when you face your enemy,” Nagai said, just as the ground shook.
Our first monster arrived. It was a hulking beast made of what looked like lumpy, pink flesh, with a single massive eye and a microphone headset. It was flanked by a dozen of those smiling, clapping Planet Fitness minions. “Let’s get this party started! No lunkheads, just gains!” one of them chirped.
We fought. It was chaos. We moved with a speed and strength we never knew we had, our colored suits leaving streaks of light in the air. We kicked and punched, our movements synchronized from years of practice, now amplified into something superhuman. We finally took the monster down with a combined energy blast.
But it wasn’t over. The fallen monster began to glow, its body reassembling and swelling, growing taller and taller until it loomed over the school, a five-story tall abomination of jiggling fat and distorted fitness enthusiasm.
“Now, Stacey!” Nagai’s voice echoed in my mind. “It is time!”
A belt of gleaming silver and red, engraved with strange symbols, appeared in his hands. He tossed it to me. I caught it, and without thinking, I slapped it around my waist. A click, a hum, and then… silence.
The world froze. The monster was a statue mid-roar. The minions were frozen in their mindless clapping. My team hovered in the air around me, their eyes glazed over, caught in Nagai’s powerful stasis.
I was lifted into the air. Chloe (Pink) and Zoe (Purple) floated toward me in a dreamlike daze. My legs, guided by an unseen force, slipped into their open mouths. I felt no resistance, only a warm, incredible pressure as my feet slid down, down, coming to rest deep within their stomachs. It was the strangest, most intimate sensation I’d ever felt.
Next, Hannah (Yellow) and Maya (Aqua) drifted over. My arms entered them, sinking into their bodies through their backsides up to just below my elbows. Their legs unwound themselves and wrapped tightly around my torso, locking into place. I could feel the muscles in their thighs tense against my sides.
Finally, Brianna—Naked—floated toward my chest. She pressed against me, her incredible softness moulding to my form. She wrapped her arms and legs around my own, locking us together, and then let her head fall forward, completely vanishing between the immense, soft pillows of her own breasts, pressed firmly against my chest.
I dropped back to the ground, the impact jolting through me. I could feel Brianna’s body on my front, her breasts bouncing with the landing. I tentatively tried to move.
I thought, step forward.
The movement came, but it wasn’t just my leg. It was Chloe’s and then Zoe’s legs moving in perfect unison with me, their bodies moving as extensions of my own. I was controlling them. I was them. I lifted my arms, and saw Hannah and Maya’s arms mirror the movement perfectly.
“This is your Megazord form,” Nagai’s voice explained, sound returning to my private bubble of time. “You are the core. You command their bodies as your own limbs. They will remember none of this. To release them, you must defeat the enemy. When it is weakened, you must yell ‘FINISHER!’.”
I practiced. A step became a mighty stomp from four powerful legs. A punch became a devastating blow from four clenched fists. The power was dizzying. I felt the distinct sensations from each of my teammates—the sleek strength of Chloe, the flexible power of Zoe, the explosive energy of Hannah, the steady grace of Maya, and the overwhelming, soft warmth of Brianna pressed against me.
“Now, Stacey,” Nagai said. “Finish it.”
Time slammed back into motion with a roar.
The giant monster swung a fist the size of a car at me. I—we—blocked it with a forearm, the impact resonating through our combined bodies. We fought, a giantess of flesh and power against a monster of fat. We were faster, stronger, unified. With a series of powerful blows, we weakened it, until it staggered, dizzy and disoriented.
Now.
I took a deep breath, the motion causing Brianna’s chest to rise and fall against mine.
“FINISHER!” I yelled, my voice echoing with the combined power of six girls.
We leaped, a phenomenal jump that carried our combined form high into the air. We twisted, aiming ourselves downward. The monster looked up, its single eye wide with confusion.
We came down on its head, not on its body.
We landed perfectly, with the soft, warm heart of our formation—Brianna—coming to rest directly over the monster’s head. It let out a muffled, gurgled roar, its head completely smothered, suffocated between the immense, world-encompassing softness of her vagina. It struggled for a moment, then fell still, beginning to dissolve into harmless pink mist.
The belt on my waist clicked. The world dissolved in another flash of light, and I was standing alone, back in my red ranger suit. My team stood around me, blinking, stretching.
“Whoa, did we do it?” Chloe asked, looking at the fading pink mist. “I blacked out for a second there. What a rush!”
They remembered nothing. But I remembered everything. The feeling of their bodies as my own. The incredible, intimate power.
And I knew, with a thrilling certainty that shot right through me, that this was only the beginning. Queen Adiposa would send more monsters. And each time, we would combine. Each time, I would feel that connection, that control.
And each time, I would make my teammates more… mine.
It all started during what should’ve been just another grueling practice session under the sweltering Texas sun. Sweat stung my eyes, and my muscles screamed in protest with every high kick and flip. I was Stacey Robinson, head cheerleader of the Northwood Wildcats, and we were running the pyramid sequence for what felt like the hundredth time.
That’s when the sky tore open.
Not with a crack of thunder, but with a soft, shimmering hum. A light, gentle as a sunbeam, descended, and out stepped a figure that looked less like an alien invader and more like a yoga instructor from a high-end spa. He was tall, slender, with skin that shimmered like mother-of-pearl and eyes the color of a calm sea. He introduced himself as Nagai, an emissary from a distant star.
“Stacey Robinson,” he said, his voice like a melody. “Your world is in grave, albeit peculiar, danger.”
We all just stared, too shocked to even drop our pom-poms.
He explained that an ancient cosmic ruler, a being of immense vanity and twisted ideals, was approaching Earth. Her name was Queen Adiposa, and her goal was to impose her own standard of beauty upon the universe: to make fat not just acceptable, but the only form of beauty, eradicating all others. Her method? A wave of transformative energy, preceded by an army of minions who looked… well, like unnaturally enthusiastic Planet Fitness trainers in their purple and yellow uniforms, forever chanting about “no judgement.”
“Your spirit, your power, your unity,” Nagai said, his gaze sweeping over my team—Chloe, Hannah, Zoe, Maya, and Brianna. “You six are the only ones who can stop her. You will become my champions. The Supersonic Pussy Rangers.”
We glanced at each other. The name was ridiculous. The situation was insane. But the look in Nagai’s eyes was dead serious.
A wave of his hand, and a flash of light enveloped us. I felt a surge of power, a buzzing energy that settled deep in my core. When the light faded, we were all clad in skintight suits. Mine was a vibrant, commanding red. Chloe got pink, Hannah yellow, Zoe a deep purple, and Maya a cool aqua. And then there was Brianna.
Brianna, already the bustiest of us by a mile, was… naked. But not just naked. Her suit was a shimmering, barely-there layer of light that did nothing to conceal her incredible figure. Nagai hadn’t been kidding about the name. Her breasts were so magnificently large, so breathtakingly full, they truly looked like they could swallow a person’s head whole.
“Your power will manifest when you face your enemy,” Nagai said, just as the ground shook.
Our first monster arrived. It was a hulking beast made of what looked like lumpy, pink flesh, with a single massive eye and a microphone headset. It was flanked by a dozen of those smiling, clapping Planet Fitness minions. “Let’s get this party started! No lunkheads, just gains!” one of them chirped.
We fought. It was chaos. We moved with a speed and strength we never knew we had, our colored suits leaving streaks of light in the air. We kicked and punched, our movements synchronized from years of practice, now amplified into something superhuman. We finally took the monster down with a combined energy blast.
But it wasn’t over. The fallen monster began to glow, its body reassembling and swelling, growing taller and taller until it loomed over the school, a five-story tall abomination of jiggling fat and distorted fitness enthusiasm.
“Now, Stacey!” Nagai’s voice echoed in my mind. “It is time!”
A belt of gleaming silver and red, engraved with strange symbols, appeared in his hands. He tossed it to me. I caught it, and without thinking, I slapped it around my waist. A click, a hum, and then… silence.
The world froze. The monster was a statue mid-roar. The minions were frozen in their mindless clapping. My team hovered in the air around me, their eyes glazed over, caught in Nagai’s powerful stasis.
I was lifted into the air. Chloe (Pink) and Zoe (Purple) floated toward me in a dreamlike daze. My legs, guided by an unseen force, slipped into their open mouths. I felt no resistance, only a warm, incredible pressure as my feet slid down, down, coming to rest deep within their stomachs. It was the strangest, most intimate sensation I’d ever felt.
Next, Hannah (Yellow) and Maya (Aqua) drifted over. My arms entered them, sinking into their bodies through their backsides up to just below my elbows. Their legs unwound themselves and wrapped tightly around my torso, locking into place. I could feel the muscles in their thighs tense against my sides.
Finally, Brianna—Naked—floated toward my chest. She pressed against me, her incredible softness moulding to my form. She wrapped her arms and legs around my own, locking us together, and then let her head fall forward, completely vanishing between the immense, soft pillows of her own breasts, pressed firmly against my chest.
I dropped back to the ground, the impact jolting through me. I could feel Brianna’s body on my front, her breasts bouncing with the landing. I tentatively tried to move.
I thought, step forward.
The movement came, but it wasn’t just my leg. It was Chloe’s and then Zoe’s legs moving in perfect unison with me, their bodies moving as extensions of my own. I was controlling them. I was them. I lifted my arms, and saw Hannah and Maya’s arms mirror the movement perfectly.
“This is your Megazord form,” Nagai’s voice explained, sound returning to my private bubble of time. “You are the core. You command their bodies as your own limbs. They will remember none of this. To release them, you must defeat the enemy. When it is weakened, you must yell ‘FINISHER!’.”
I practiced. A step became a mighty stomp from four powerful legs. A punch became a devastating blow from four clenched fists. The power was dizzying. I felt the distinct sensations from each of my teammates—the sleek strength of Chloe, the flexible power of Zoe, the explosive energy of Hannah, the steady grace of Maya, and the overwhelming, soft warmth of Brianna pressed against me.
“Now, Stacey,” Nagai said. “Finish it.”
Time slammed back into motion with a roar.
The giant monster swung a fist the size of a car at me. I—we—blocked it with a forearm, the impact resonating through our combined bodies. We fought, a giantess of flesh and power against a monster of fat. We were faster, stronger, unified. With a series of powerful blows, we weakened it, until it staggered, dizzy and disoriented.
Now.
I took a deep breath, the motion causing Brianna’s chest to rise and fall against mine.
“FINISHER!” I yelled, my voice echoing with the combined power of six girls.
We leaped, a phenomenal jump that carried our combined form high into the air. We twisted, aiming ourselves downward. The monster looked up, its single eye wide with confusion.
We came down on its head, not on its body.
We landed perfectly, with the soft, warm heart of our formation—Brianna—coming to rest directly over the monster’s head. It let out a muffled, gurgled roar, its head completely smothered, suffocated between the immense, world-encompassing softness of her vagina. It struggled for a moment, then fell still, beginning to dissolve into harmless pink mist.
The belt on my waist clicked. The world dissolved in another flash of light, and I was standing alone, back in my red ranger suit. My team stood around me, blinking, stretching.
“Whoa, did we do it?” Chloe asked, looking at the fading pink mist. “I blacked out for a second there. What a rush!”
They remembered nothing. But I remembered everything. The feeling of their bodies as my own. The incredible, intimate power.
And I knew, with a thrilling certainty that shot right through me, that this was only the beginning. Queen Adiposa would send more monsters. And each time, we would combine. Each time, I would feel that connection, that control.
And each time, I would make my teammates more… mine.
mind control
+8 more
17
15.8K
1
0
In Cambiada, a bullied boy got possession of a small mirror with the promise that will make him "get out of his own head". He plan to use it to change his life and possible get revenge on his bully.
"Huff... Puff..."
Donnie heaved as the used his hand to balance against the wall. Leo has once again waited for him after school, and not wanting to be somethed to the normal abuse of his opressor, he tried to run.
Miracously, against all odds, this time he had lost his persecutor, but has left him without air and sweating profusedly, his bad atlethic state being the biggest reason behind it.
"Where... am I?" Donnie had run without caring where he was going, running across streets and alleyways. As he looked around, he had finished in front of a small antiquity store, the old sign indicated that he was in front of "Delphi's", whatever it was. From outside he could seen books, drawers and dolls, mirrors and jewelry, a collection of different object that only had one thing in common - they were noticible old.
"When in rome..." the scawny boy would any other day of the week have come as the typical nerd fan of video games and anime, but close friend of his knew that he also had the odd eccentric streak, having a collection of sort obtained principally through the internet or antiquary store whenever he was traveling with his family.
Little light passed through the dirty windows, most of the light came from an old candelabrum that together with the heavy smell of rich incense, gave everything around a rusty feel. Walking by, different shelves were stacked by aged, leather-bound books and the different tables displayed eerie looking items which would not be out of place at a Halloween store.
"Can I help you baby?", Donnie jumped a bit at the old, slightly cracking female voice to see Delphi Grey. She was an old woman, dressed like an eccentric but with a wise face.
"Umm..." did he needed help? His life had more downs than ups. Constant bullying and being compared to her head cheerleader of a sister had brought stress that had accumulated until the point that at any moment he would explode, but in a way that he wasn't sure how. "Um... Yeah", Donnie finally replied, a bit embarrassed,"I was just looking for something that can offer a change of perspective".
"Oh?", Delphi asked,"In what way?". Through the heavy lenses of her, Donnie felt as if she could read his soul.
"Well.... My mom's never home and seems to be stressed all the time", Donnie began in a tirade, "My sister's too into herself and needs to consider others. I am constantly picked up in school... I-I just need to get out of my own head!", Donnie couldn't believe he had divulged all of this to the woman. For some reason, it just poured from him.
"Ah!", Delphi nodded, "I think I have just the thing for you".
The old woman disappeared behind the counter, a heavy curtain blocked the sight of her. Not one minute later she returned with a strange and old hand mirror.
The object was made of a black material with angular definitions all around the handle, the surface seemed to consist on a piece of metal fixed to the structure - the reflection that it gave wasn't clear, nothing like an actual mirror finish, and it made Donnie think of a slice of metal.
"...This is the Dionisan Mirror... in reality nobody knows if that was the original name or something that came to be..." Delphi said when she put the mirror on the counter. On a closer inspection on the frame of the mirror were different inscriptions made in some kind of language that Donnie couldn't recognize. Taking the mirror in his hands, it felt as if it was made from wood. The surface reflected, albeit with difficulties, the scrutinizing gaze of Donnie.
"But... but how is this going to help me?"
"Full left turn to capture the visage... the knob will not turn left any more meanwhile there is a visage inside... Full right turn to release the visage" the gypsy said as she indicated a knob at the bottom down of the handle which had passed unnoticed to Donnie. In closer inspection a fine line created a knob at the bottom of the handle. "Follow the inscription with a finger, from left to right to change appearance with the visage..." she finalized indicating the inscription and the motion to follow.
"I don't understand..."
"You want to get out from your mind. Experimenting a different visage can help you to change your perspectives..." she said as a matter of fact, in a weird trance like voice, was she on drugs?
Some seconds passed between the both of them, Donnie trying to make sense of what Delphi was saying - the stuff with the visage for a start - and Delphi observing the reaction of Donnie; Both of them immobile meanwhile this confrontation happened.
Some more seconds, Delphi becoming exasperated until she finally said, "It's 50 bucks please" returning to her normal tone of voice, the one that she has been using was clearly part of a performance.
"What!? I don't have that money... First of all I still don't know what this does!"
"Ok, ok, let's do this. You can keep it and if it changes your life, you come here and pay me the 50 bucks that I asked, otherwise you give me back the mirror, deal?"
What possibly could a mirror do for him? Donnie was sure that a mirror wouldn't change his life, and the gypsy has been acting strange. Something was telling him that the mirror didn't cost that quantity of money, but Donnie didn't have anything to lose.
"Deal..."
And with that Donnie was out of the store, with a strange looking mirror that supposedly would change his life, "How the fuck should I use this..." Even if the mirror was intended for self exploration - looking at oneself in it - it made a horrible job. At most, he could see his very distorted form and inquisitive gaze.
The walk towards home was filled with these thoughts, the only conclusion that he arrived would be to wait a week and then give it back. Even like that, Donnie was sure that even if he didn't give it back it wouldn't matter, probably the woman wouldn't miss this mirror as she simply gave it away in order to get rid of trash.
---
"Donnie! What is this?" his sister Bella asked once she saw the mirror that Donnie had left on the table of the living room when he arrived back home.
He was preparing himself a sandwich in the kitchen so he answer her back shouting, without looking at what she was doing "A kind of a prop... a gypsy lady give it to me, saying that it's something that can change my life..."
"Yeah, right... If this is a mirror, it's a shitty one... And how should you use it?"
"She said something about rotating the knob at the bottom of the handle to the left." he awaited further questions but they didn't come. Instead the sound of something falling to the floor was heard short after. "Bella?"
Donnie went back to the living room. It was empty and at the feet of the table was the mirror, apparently it has fell when Gabriella left it back from where she took it.
Doonie picked it, but he threw it when he gazed upon his reflection.
"What the-" Picking it up again, there was no more the diffused reflection that was characteristic from the mirror, it has corrected itself and now the strange surface gave a clear image of everything that was reflected in it.
But instead of seeing his face looking back at him, this time was the face of his sister, mimicking each and every one of his movements and expressions, which in these moments was only one;
Fright.
"Bella... Bella! Can you hear me!?" Donnie's sister was moving her mouth in the mirror, but he couldn't hear anything. The look of apprehension on Gabriella's face was agitating Donnie second by second, to the point that Donnie was fearing a panic attack. "Oh God! Bella I will help you!"
Without waiting for an answer Donnie ran to his room, surely there would be something on the internet? If this was real - and if magic was real - the implications were only adding to the list of problem in Donnie's mind. He hoped that all of this was a dream... but everything pointed that in this case, in the best of cases, it was a nightmare.
"Oh god, oh god, oh god...." the room was as he had left it this morning, bedsheets disordered and put together at the end of the bed and on the seat that he used for his computer there were all the clothes yet to be cleaned. The large mirror at the front of his wardrobe reflecting each and every move that Donnie was making, from his frantic movement to his desperate expression. Taking the hand mirror to his eyes height he shouted "Don't worry Bella! I will take you out from there, I just need to-"
Something was off... from his position, he was facing his wardrobe mirror that reflected his full body, and in his hand at around his face height, he has her sister face... Something about the expression of both his and Bella was bugging him out. Slowly, he approached the big mirror and put the small mirror side by side always at his face height. Donnie and Bella expression were the same, differing only in looks alone.
Bringing the free hand to his face, Donnie watched not only as his reflection made the same, but the Bella's one imitate him as if it was his reflection, "Bella...? Can you hear...me?" Bella in the mirror moved her mouth not as if asking for help, but as a reflection of him being Bella. From his face to his hair to his body, Bella imitated every each of his moves. "If this is real, then..." as a final test, he started rising his t-shirt, but meanwhile the image in the little mirror showed the movement of her hand, it wasn't able to move the clothes compared to Donnie.
"Fuck me..."
It was certain that Bella was trapped in the mirror, and that now the mirror reflected him as Bella, but was she aware of what was happening outside the mirror? was she conscious that her brother was making her move in any way that he liked and that he could see her as he would like just by moving the mirror in certain ways... better not go there, she is my sister, Donnie though, still looking at Bella reflection.
"What was what that gypsy was saying.... Full turn left to absorb?" trying to turn the knob to the left, it was locked as she said it would be - meanwhile a visage was inside - "Follow the inscription to change..." he said looking at the runes by the frame, he started touching them but stopped himself when he was at the zenith - wouldn't like to cause an unnecessary transformation - "And full turn right to liberate!" he said at the same time that he did the motion that he had been told to do.
Instantly, as if being sucked out from the mirror, Gabriella body was thrown out from the direction that the mirror was facing, him. The unexpected release together with the weight of Gabriella body made Donnie fell to the floor, with Bella on top of him.
Fortunately she was asleep.
"Bella! Bella, oh my god you are free!" he shouted taking her sister by her shoulder after he was freed of her weight. Gabriella was sleeping normally, dreaming even. "Bella, wake up, please!" What if she couldn't wake up? Because of this fear, he started shaking her from the shoulder, increasing his force until finally, she started moving, She is alive!. Gabriella started to wake up, and after frowning and looking at every side - as disoriented - she looked directly at Donnie.
_What if she remembers everything? What should I tell her? What-_
"What I'm doing in your room, Donnie?" the voice of Bella was very slow, similar to the one that she use at mornings after just waken up, "I was in the living room... and then" she looked lost for words.
"Youstartedtofellasleep... and when I came back to my room, you were sleeping in my bed..."
"Really?... I guess..." and with that she stood up and left, still with a disoriented look.
Donnie remained fixed in his position. What have just happen? The mirror was magical and it was not a prop? I will have to pay 50 dollars!? What more can I do? Can I become anyone? Magic was real? All kind of though started floating in Donnie's mind, the possibilities and implications of his new mirror left him overwhelmed.
The only thing certain for now was that whatever happened meanwhile a person was inside the mirror, they wouldn't remember.
...But this only brought more questions to mind, interrogatives that Donnie needed to figure out before having a plan of action in how to use the mirror.
---
In his room, Donnie was walking left and right, periodically looking towards the mirror resting in the desk, and then again to repeat this routine. He had done this thing for at least one hour now as he thought about the implication of what he could do it, how he could do it, and the fact that magic was real. He had looked online, on the web and in weird forum were people fantasized about being other people.
Donnie had never thought of it, about being other one apart from himself - yes, he wanted to not be a nerd, to be popular with the girls and had thought of how it would be to be another person, but have never entertained the idea. Now instead, given the possibility, it was as if the mirror was whispering to him, to abuse it.
_But... but..._
He had lost time reading different stories and anecdotes, captions and role plays - the fetish unkown to him was more big than he had though.
_What would they do it with this?_
He had wanted to get out from his head, and with the mirror, he could go in another head.
"Donnie, dinner is ready!" from outside his door the voice of his sister had startled him, doing a little jump. The tradition of eating in family was specially more strict now than ever since the divorce of her mom.
Going down and being seated with them, talking about the day and about news Donnie couldn't help for his sight to wander in the bodies of the two people, two females closest to him. His sister with the golden locks and pearl white smile, popular and charismatic with a lot of friends, he didn't want to think about it but her body in perfect condition because of all of the training as cheerleader left her as a prime subject. Just thinking about how earlier in the day he had seen her reflection in the mirror was making him hard... If he had just completed the inscription... But it was wrong...
"Donnie, are you listening?"
"Yes, it's wrong!" a pause and rubor, he cleared his voice, "sorry, what were you saying?"
"I swear, I worked all the day for you and your sister and..." his mother continue with the tirade of a forty something female consumed by divorce and work. His father had always said that your mother was a workaholic, and he couldn't not agree with it. As she talked, Donnie noticed that she released an aura that commanded other to respect her, to listen to her, to follow her, all the qualities that he wished he had.
His sister would become suspicios if she become asleep for the second time in the day without her consciense, so it was later in night when her mother was entering the bathroom to wash herself that Donnie decided to act. Hiding in the corner, his positioned the mirror so her mother would be right in the middle in the moment that she would open the bathroom door. As he heard the knob turnin, Donnie turned left the knob of the mirror. He remained like that, petrified in the spot as he tried to hear for any hint that his mother was still there, the door closing, some steps, anything.
As he slowly turned the mirror towards him, in it the reflection of his mother could be seen. A crazy smile appeared at this moment as Donnie run towards the bathroom and closed it behind him.
"Yes!" The mirror could be used from away, as long as a person was in the reflection. Just this fact alone justified what he had done, and now it was time to reapt the benefits. Turned towards him, his mother face in the reflection of the mirro, with a slow motion he passed hid index finger over the weird runes of the mirror, until he was back wher he started. It felt as if a fuzzy fog was created within him and the mirror - his image being exchanged with his mother - but it only lasted a moment, and this time in the reflection was his face.
"Did it-" he had to stop, his voice sounding feminine and mature. The hand that held the mirror seemed more delicate and thin, but also older given the wrinkles that could be seen from near. He walked towards the mirror, feeling how his new hips rocket left and right. In it, it wasn't his reflection that he had become accustomed to see, but his mother. Green eyes, short hair, same pearl like teeth as your sister. He could feel her tight clothes, the pain in the bones, the constricted the feeling of her bra and how a piece of cloth was alodged firmly in his mother crack. "I did it!"
In front of the mirror, Donnie frenetically tried to disrobe all of her clothes, having particular problems with the black bra now in his possession. The naked body of his mother, taut and slender didn't seem to be of a forty something woman - she took great care of her body, eating healthy and regularly going to the gym - but the pains on the joints gave away her true age.
"Soooo... I was about to take a shower..."
---
The shower was a long one, Donnie relished in all the feeling that his mother's body could provide him - the temperature at wich point he normally take showers wasn't enough, increasing the heat until copius amount of vapor was generated. His new nipples were sensitive, a current passing through his body every time he cleaned them with the loofah and it wasn't long before her new long and delicate fingers were probing his inside.
His exploration was cut short when his sister asked if everything was alright, given that he had forgotten himself with the exploration and time has fly by. But now inside her mother's bedroom, he had white card to continue his exploration, starting with a full on show of her wardrobe.
Dresses, pants, shirts and lots of underwear, wearing the items of cloth in different combination, in different angles, trying the cat walk that women often used - all meanwhile he used her cellphone to save this experience in video.
But the strong dish of the night was the modeling of the underwear and lingerie that his mother had. From the old fashioned pair that he though his mother usually used to the more daring ones, the type that by only holding in his hands was enough to bring rubor to his face, the kind that he had never expected his mother to have - which only make it better when he put it on and masturbated with it still on, over his new vagina.
"This. Is. The. Life." Donnie said between panting, after having another rocking orgasm. The pristine woman that was his mother was no more, replaced by a sexually hungry deviant, "If only she had... stuffs..." for more that he searched, he couldn't find any sexual toy - his mother seemingly more interested in work that in her own life (maybe the reason why she divorced his dad after an apparent affair with a younger woman).
Regaining his breath as his eyes closed in the dimly lit room, he gently caressed the black mirror. In the reflection his own body was smiling with the biggest smile since starting the last school year - gone were the stress of his life, replaced only by the now, the pleasure of his current body.
"Tomorrow will be great..." he thought in loud voice as he slowly fell asleep, his mind drifting with all the possibilities that he could do at the school the next day.
---
Highschool, the place were boys and girls at the doors of adulthood go in order to learn about the different topics that society consider as basic, learn the stablished social norms who rule society and make memories of the better years of one youth. At least this was what most adults would say, the chorus that many have sung so many times that it was a rule, an expectations - but adults forget in most cases that many times inside a high school, were hormones are in an all time high, the relationship of persons were more akin to the jungle, were the strongest (or popular) reign free to do what they liked.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..."
Everything will be alright, boys will be boys, it helps to form character. This and so many other phrases has been told to Donnie, specially by the guidance counselor Charlotte Smith every time that he had went for help, falling in deaf ear. Even with the sign of abuse as bruises or wet clothes, it didn't matter that the bullying continued to escalated, she still didn't do anything.
"Fat-ass, stop running!"
Donnie didn't want to ask for help of his mother - not only it would be lame - she was always so busy that he doubted that she would be interested in helping. Worse of it, his perpetrator was the little brother of his sister's boyfriend, and Donnie didn't want to win the animosity of her in case his mother did something.
"_Huff... Puff..._"
"You thought you could ran from us? This will be worse than if you haven't ran..."
After a good night of sleep, Donnie had woken still in his mother body. The recolection of what he had done hit him in the face - a depravity never seen before from his side. He turned back to himself, leaving her mother in the same position that he had been - well rested and still on lingerie. The breakfast had been the most uncomfortable thing of that morning, Donnie being unable to look at her mother's face, and she was humming as she prepared everything in a hurry.
Donnie was lost in his mind thinking about how to test the mirror, which was currently secured inside his bag, when he collided with the jocks just outside from the changing rooms. Worse of all, he had have a full on frontal crash with his bully, and instead of saying sorry as one would have expected, his first instinct was to run - this as a learnt habit - which probably was for the worst, not only because it would make them angry, but because his physical state wasn't one capable of outrunning them.
Fortunately the torture didn't last long because as soon as the bell sound started playing the group stormed off. Still, for Donnie it would mean to arrive late to class, first because he couldn't walk from the exhaustion and pain inflicted, and then because of the disaster that they had done with his stuff, taking them out from inside his bag and spreading them, a common tactic that they used.
---
"I think you should go to the Principal... maybe he can do something? Maybe he could fire the counselor?"
"I wouldn't bet on it, there are rumors that he is having as affair with her."
"But Donnie doesn't lose anything by asking!"
"I will think about it..."
In the lunchtime it was time to cry and pass the sorrows with his small group of friends; the one most understanding of his situation - given that he also was an usual victim of Leo - was Mateo - or Matt as he liked to be called - Donnie's childhood friend that has been a constant in both of their life. Son of a single mother, he was picked in school because of his Latin heritage, and together with Donnie - with was picked because of his weight - formed the group of the outcast. This soon became a real friendship, and the rest was history.
The other part of his group that completed the trio - or more like a duet with an unofficial member - was Yui Watanabe, the middle child of the Watanabe's family. Originally an outcast - this time not because of the race, but because of how she spoke English and her short hair that made her look more as a boy. This lasted during all of middle school until she started to develop as a woman - she was a late bloomer. After this, and with a renew confidence she became more outgoing and friendly (and popular), having a bigger social circle that the both of them together. In any case, the time passed together during middle school, created the kind of connection that was difficult to lose, and even now the group of friends still could find activities that all of them enjoyed, being one of them anime, with Yui in particular expressing interest in cosplaying, where in her words, she could pretend to be another person, outside of her tomboy persona.
"Seems like he woke up in a bad mood today... this could be one of the worst beating he had give you"
"Goddammit Yui, are you trying to help or what?"
"What? I'm trying to help! I'm trying to give good advice instead of the self comforting stuff that you are sprouting!" Yui started a shouting match with Matt, something rare but that had become more common since she started expanding her social circle.
"You don't understand anything!"
"Oh! I don't understand anything? Please tell me who was an outcast with the both of you until just some years ago!" Yui said as she put her hands by the hips, "Unlike you, I took control of my life. I fought for it"
"Guys..."
"It's not the same you are a woman! You don't understand what it is for men like us!"
"Oh? Now it is the misogynistic argument. For your information, girls can be more callous that men, they play with your mind, they don't care about inflicting physical pain" the voice of Yui started breaking, with some tears starting to appear in her eyes, with a body language that showed she was offended. "Fuck you Matt, I though you were better than this, you can't accept that you don't want to-"
"GUYS!" Donnie interrupted them, trying to project his voice the louder possible. "This is not like us, don't fight for something like this... I-"
"No Donnie, you don't understand...." from one of her big, black eyes a little tear appeared, "Until you do something for yourself, this will continue to escalate, and neither me, Matt, the principal or even your mother will be able to do anything." She stopped to clean her face with some wiping paper, her mascara destroyed in the process "Sorry Donnie, I can't do this anymore..." and she went away, leaving both guys stunned.
"Fuck!" Matt exploded, trying to hit an invisible can "fuck, fuck, FUCK!"
Silenced arrived between the both of them. A long, uncomfortable silence.
"Don't worry, I will not abandon you" Matt whispered after some minutes.
But in Donnie's mind, the words of Yui were still present. 'Until you do something for yourself' were the words of his friend. He knew that in her own way, she was trying to help him. Maybe Donnie couldn't stand up to Leo in the physical sense, but now with the mirror, he finally could do something about it himself.
"Yui is right, I will do something about it myself" Donnie finally said, as he started searching inside his bag for the mirror.
"What are you searching for?" Matt said looking at what Donnie was doing.
"For the solution to our problems!" and so, Donnie went to search on his bag.
A minute passed, another one and then another, Donnie couldn't find the magic mirror for much he searched on his bag. He had no doubts that he had left it there this morning, secured between the history book and the biology-
"So what it is that you are searching for...?"
"A mirror, my mirror!" Donnie shouted as he turned towards Matt, "My magic mirror that I was going to use against Leo!" he finished, looking squarely at Matt.
An uncomfortable silence descended between both of them, until Matt broke the silence, "Magical? Magical as..."
"Yes! Magical! Magical as a bag of holding or an invisibility ring... what it is that you don't understand?"
"...uhmm, everything?"
Donnie in his exalted state hasn't considered that Matt had yet to know about the existence of the magical mirror. The thought of losing the mirror has short-circuited any rational thought and only now he had caught on this. "I bought a magical mirror to an old lady..." he started as Donnie told the story of how the mirror that had been sold to him could trap one image - a visage - in the mirror, and how it could be used to replace someone else's body - leaving the part where he had enjoyed his mother's visage - and now it was the perfect time to enact vengeance on Leo, but he couldn't find it.
"Let's say I believe you... which I still don't... why you didn't test all of this before..." and as an intruding though flashed illuminated his face, he added "Heck! You could have became your own sister!"
"I was afraid! Ok? I didn't want to test it alone, I wanted to show it to you.... but I forgot..."
Silence again returned between the both of them. During this time, the bell indicating the return to the second half of classes sung.
"Look, I will help you find the mirror after classes... Maybe someone found it and left it in the lost and found!"
"I hope..."
The day hadn't started in the best way for Donnie - it was up there as one of the worst - but he hoped that it would become better.
But as they were returning - with Donnie continuing ensuring his friends that the mirror was real and about all of the things they could do with the mirror, and all the different use case that Donnie had thought since yesterday - Donnie failed to notice the messages that Yui had sent to his phone...
'Im sorry'
'didnt meant wat I said'
'Ill try to do something...'
---
"Shit! It is not here either!"
"Let's go, maybe you dreamed all of it?"
"No... definitely not..."
Both Donnie and Matt had gone towards the lost and found once all the classes had ended, but once that they controlled that it wasn't there, at the insistence of Donnie, they started searching for the mirror all around the school, even in places that Donnie haven't been during the day. Right now, in the stalls of the bathroom, they have been searching for more than one hour and they still haven't had luck.
Right now, Donnie was doubting if what he lived yesterday was real, if it was only part of his imagination that his mind had crafted in order to scape reality. But no... all the proof indicated that he hadn't hallucinated... that, or he had started to suffer schizophrenia, or a severe case of gender disphoria.
"C'mon man, are you sure that it was in your bag... maybe you left it in your house..." could it be? If that was the case....
"Yeah, I think you're right..." If he couldn't do anything anymore he didn't need to cry over spilled water. "Anyway, have you seen Yui?"
"Didn't you had classes with her?"
"Yeah, but she didn't show up" After you have arrived at classes, you have seen her messages. But even after assuring her that she was right and that she shouldn't have to worry, she hadn't answered. 'What if Leo did something to her?' was the preoccupation in his mind, but internally he knew that he wouldn't touch a woman.
"Weird... anyway, if you see her, tell her I'm sorry... I have to go, my mother will start to worry if I don't arrive on time."
"Ok, sure... talk to you later"
"Later!"
Yeah, if Donnie couldn't do anything, maybe it was better to return home, look at some anime and later play some League of Legends with Matt, this would maintain his mind far away from the problem... but first he had to go towards the Watanabe's, to see if everything was fine with his friend.
He hadn't taken two step towards his bicycle when a series of text started arriving. They were from Yui, but something was off about them...
'Loseeer'
'Fatass'
'Little bitch'
'Yui! Everything fine???'
In an uncharacteristic show of character, his friend had started insulting Donnie. Fearing the worst, Donnie called her - it was quicker than waiting for her to answer. The call ended without accepting the call, so he tried two times, three times... It was only when he had started to give up that someone answered.
"Yui! is every-"
"Aaaaaah"
His voice had been interrupted from what he could only describe as a moan, the kind that he have heard before in porn. The long moan didn't stop, instead it continued in a series of smaller ones. What preoccupied Donnie the most was the fact that from the other line he could make the voices of men, but they were far away from the cellphone so he couldn't understand what they were saying.
"Yui, YUI! What the Fuck!?"
"Hey Fatass...." the voice that finally answered him from the other side was without a doubt Leo. In what context would Yui be doing what you feared in the presence of Leo? Was this referred to the fact that she would do something? Would she sacrifice her purity for you?
"Leo you motherfucker, if you do anything to Yui I-"
"What!? You will fight me?" Laughs came from the other side, apparently whatever you said was being broadcaster to an audience that you didn't want to know. "Listen, Yui here is taking your place, aren't you happy? Or maybe, you would prefer to be in her position"
"Bullshit! Yui would never do something like that!"
"Here..." you heard Leo passing the cellphone to another person, but within a second you knew who would answer from the other side, as the proximity of the moans increased.
"Hey bitch..." a sensual voice could be heard coming from Yui.
"Yui! You don't need to do anything, I-I-"
"Heck no! You will not do anything because this is the best thing ever! I'm so fucking tigh!"
"Yui..."
"I'm enjoying myself... you should also do it... almost-" This time a cry was heard right next to Donnie's ear, the orgasm of his friend was loud enough that anyone that would have been near him could have heard it. From a silence that seemed to last an eternity, a weak "here... take some photos" was heard.
"Fatass, don't cry, I will sent you a gift so you can masturbate with the little dick of yours... Yui will be enjoying us" Leo said as he finished the call.
"Wait! Yui!" but it was too late, the call had ended unilaterally, and no matter how many times Donnie tried to call back, it didn't matter, someone had turned off her cellphone.
Some minutes passed and as he was despairing, some message started arriving to Donnie's cellphone from an unknown number. "What the fuck!" was the only thing that Donnie could mutter as he observed the naked body of his friend. The different images showed your friend from different angles and with different expressions. The first ones seemed to be from just after the call, as she rested on her back with a satisfied expression, letting for all the world to see her nether region and the big breast that she normally hide on her hoodie.
But then they turned to her playing with her breast and vagina, sucking her own nipples as she fingered her clit, every image being raunchier than the one before it. The last thing sent was a video, in which after pressing play - against Donnie's better judgement - it showed his friend sucking and tit fucking a dick, filmed in first person. In the back Donnie could make the image of different members of the football team with someone saying "that's so gay...".
Enrapture with the photos, he noticed only now that he have an erection - When was that he had gained one? Before or after the photos? With the first moan or with her orgasm?
"Shit..." Without being able to do anything, he returned back home, trying to hide the erection in the way back.
---
Filthy. Bad Friend. Traitor. Conflicting emotions were appearing in Donnie's head as he masturbated to the image of Yui in his cellphone. The emotion that he had always maintained under control - lust for his female friend - has currently gone out of control. From her naked body, to her bigger than expected boobs, and finally her vagina including the tunnel that shouldn't be looked at, the taboo of the situation made this situation worse for the heart of Donnie.
"Yui... Why? Why them?" truth be told, since he received that call and the following messages with the photos, his mind has been in disarray. He had always expected that the little crush that he have towards his friends would become true, even if he didn't act on it because he didn't want to jeopardize the situation. So when not only had the opportunity to ogle at her, but also when she was doing God knows what with his bully and his friends - the maximum betrayal - Donnie's mind did short circuit.
With a hand on his cellphone as he examined the patch of pubic hair of her friend, and the other doing the pumping motion on his dick, Donnie ejaculated all over his cellphone, not the first one of the day. He had been doing this since he returned from school, he hadn't been able to focus his mind in other tasks.
"Donnie! Time to eat" only when finally the voice of his mother called him for dinner, he noticed how much time have passed, already dark outside, before going downstairs he looked towards the Watanabe's house, just across the yard, and directly towards Yui's bedroom - the curtains on the opposed windows were hiding the dimly lit room.
"Yui..." a whisper escaped his mouth.
Going downstairs, he wondered if he could have done something different, if he could have prevented this, in any form. Looking at his sister and mother putting the table side by side, he wondered if the relationship between his group of friends would return to normal.
"Something happened Donnie? You are pale...."
"N-Nothing.... A ltittle bit stressed..."
Seated across his sister, he wondered, what if he never brought the mirror to the school, only using it at home, far away from his bully only within his group of friends, learning little by little the limitations...
"The mirror!" Donnie jumped from his seat, startling both his mother and sister. How could have he forgotten!? Leo and his group of friends had taken stuff out of his bag and must have got the mirror back then. "Fuck!"
"Donnie! Words!" his mother quickly reprimanded him, but that didn't matter, now he knew what he had to do.
"I have to go, mom!"
"No you don't, now sit back and-"
But he didn't care, standing up and running outside towards his neighbor's house, the Watanabe's, was more important than a week without internet - or whatever punishment his mother would give him.
Arriving to their house and ringing the bell, just now intrusive thoughts have started entering his mind, What I'm going to say? What if they are eating? What is- but without making him wait, Yui's mom, Esther Watanabe opened the door. An ever present smile was in her face. The petit woman was wearing a Japanese type dress that covered her whole body.
"Hi Donni! So long since I have seen you! Is everything alright?"
"Hi Ms. Watanabe... Is Yui home?" you didn't want to lose time answering her, already knowing the answer. Knowing if your friend was alright was more important than giving a good impression.
"Yes, she's in her room... Why?"
"Something from the school... Can I see her?"
"Sure?" She answered you as she stepped aside. He didn't make himself wait, taking quickly his shoes off - a tradition in the Watanabes's house. He runned from the entrance to the second floor and right outside Yui's bedroom, he tried to enter but the door was closed.
"Occupied!" came Yui's voice from inside.
"Yui! open! is me! Donnie!" he shouted, he didn't care if every other person in the house could hear him. Not two seconds passed and the door opened a little bit as he was yanked inside the bedroom, feeling to the floor in the dimly illuminated space, a musky smell permeating all the interior. "Yui, are you-" fine is what he wanted to ask, but as it turned out, he could see that that Yui wasn't his Yui.
His friends had a bemusing smile, looking in his direction, as if proving for a reaction. Donnie didn't care so much about this, as his friend body was wearing only a thong, her bare tits with her nipples looking right back at him. In her current naked state, he appreciated Yui's body as never before - the marked abdominal from her torso, the toned legs that rose until her big hips, her vagina hidden behind a black piece of cloth. A flushed face, perspiration covering her body, the pheromones in the room and the copious amount of clothes scattered around was enough to make him know what Yui - or the person wearing her visage - was doing.
"How-"
"Your Chinese friend has a rocking body, I will not lie" Yui interrupted him before he could finish his sentence "The amount of times that I have came in this body... God! Just thinking about it makes me wet" Yui finished as she stroked her pussy over the thong.
"Don't do that to her!"
"Or what!?" she changed her tone, to a more intimidating one, approaching you little by little, "Is the fat ass going to stop me from touching myself?"
"Give her body back-"
"mmmm... What would happen if I shout "rape"?" This made Donnie stop, feeling a cold shiver running down his spine. One word and his life would be over.
Cold in his feet, Donnie could only mutter a small "D-Don't do it..." almost imperceptible for anyone but him and Yui.
"Yeah, that's what I though." The person in Yui's body turned to the bed, resting her back in one of the many cushions that were there, and spreading her legs at the same time that moved her little thong to the side "Now lick, I have heard that it is awesome".
The smell increased from one moment to the other. Being face to face with the wet hair of her pubic zone was something that he have never dreamt of, even when you resorted to her during some of your masturbating session. He could hear a small ti.... coming from the back of your head as the thumbing on your chest resonate in all of your body. Feeling light weighted, Donnie did one fake step after which he found himself on the floor, with Yui looking down on him, displease present on her face.
"What a bitch..."
His vision now blurry only let him see that Yui had stood up before everything went to dark. In this final moments he could only mutter "Yui..." before Donnie lost consciousness.
"Huff... Puff..."
Donnie heaved as the used his hand to balance against the wall. Leo has once again waited for him after school, and not wanting to be somethed to the normal abuse of his opressor, he tried to run.
Miracously, against all odds, this time he had lost his persecutor, but has left him without air and sweating profusedly, his bad atlethic state being the biggest reason behind it.
"Where... am I?" Donnie had run without caring where he was going, running across streets and alleyways. As he looked around, he had finished in front of a small antiquity store, the old sign indicated that he was in front of "Delphi's", whatever it was. From outside he could seen books, drawers and dolls, mirrors and jewelry, a collection of different object that only had one thing in common - they were noticible old.
"When in rome..." the scawny boy would any other day of the week have come as the typical nerd fan of video games and anime, but close friend of his knew that he also had the odd eccentric streak, having a collection of sort obtained principally through the internet or antiquary store whenever he was traveling with his family.
Little light passed through the dirty windows, most of the light came from an old candelabrum that together with the heavy smell of rich incense, gave everything around a rusty feel. Walking by, different shelves were stacked by aged, leather-bound books and the different tables displayed eerie looking items which would not be out of place at a Halloween store.
"Can I help you baby?", Donnie jumped a bit at the old, slightly cracking female voice to see Delphi Grey. She was an old woman, dressed like an eccentric but with a wise face.
"Umm..." did he needed help? His life had more downs than ups. Constant bullying and being compared to her head cheerleader of a sister had brought stress that had accumulated until the point that at any moment he would explode, but in a way that he wasn't sure how. "Um... Yeah", Donnie finally replied, a bit embarrassed,"I was just looking for something that can offer a change of perspective".
"Oh?", Delphi asked,"In what way?". Through the heavy lenses of her, Donnie felt as if she could read his soul.
"Well.... My mom's never home and seems to be stressed all the time", Donnie began in a tirade, "My sister's too into herself and needs to consider others. I am constantly picked up in school... I-I just need to get out of my own head!", Donnie couldn't believe he had divulged all of this to the woman. For some reason, it just poured from him.
"Ah!", Delphi nodded, "I think I have just the thing for you".
The old woman disappeared behind the counter, a heavy curtain blocked the sight of her. Not one minute later she returned with a strange and old hand mirror.
The object was made of a black material with angular definitions all around the handle, the surface seemed to consist on a piece of metal fixed to the structure - the reflection that it gave wasn't clear, nothing like an actual mirror finish, and it made Donnie think of a slice of metal.
"...This is the Dionisan Mirror... in reality nobody knows if that was the original name or something that came to be..." Delphi said when she put the mirror on the counter. On a closer inspection on the frame of the mirror were different inscriptions made in some kind of language that Donnie couldn't recognize. Taking the mirror in his hands, it felt as if it was made from wood. The surface reflected, albeit with difficulties, the scrutinizing gaze of Donnie.
"But... but how is this going to help me?"
"Full left turn to capture the visage... the knob will not turn left any more meanwhile there is a visage inside... Full right turn to release the visage" the gypsy said as she indicated a knob at the bottom down of the handle which had passed unnoticed to Donnie. In closer inspection a fine line created a knob at the bottom of the handle. "Follow the inscription with a finger, from left to right to change appearance with the visage..." she finalized indicating the inscription and the motion to follow.
"I don't understand..."
"You want to get out from your mind. Experimenting a different visage can help you to change your perspectives..." she said as a matter of fact, in a weird trance like voice, was she on drugs?
Some seconds passed between the both of them, Donnie trying to make sense of what Delphi was saying - the stuff with the visage for a start - and Delphi observing the reaction of Donnie; Both of them immobile meanwhile this confrontation happened.
Some more seconds, Delphi becoming exasperated until she finally said, "It's 50 bucks please" returning to her normal tone of voice, the one that she has been using was clearly part of a performance.
"What!? I don't have that money... First of all I still don't know what this does!"
"Ok, ok, let's do this. You can keep it and if it changes your life, you come here and pay me the 50 bucks that I asked, otherwise you give me back the mirror, deal?"
What possibly could a mirror do for him? Donnie was sure that a mirror wouldn't change his life, and the gypsy has been acting strange. Something was telling him that the mirror didn't cost that quantity of money, but Donnie didn't have anything to lose.
"Deal..."
And with that Donnie was out of the store, with a strange looking mirror that supposedly would change his life, "How the fuck should I use this..." Even if the mirror was intended for self exploration - looking at oneself in it - it made a horrible job. At most, he could see his very distorted form and inquisitive gaze.
The walk towards home was filled with these thoughts, the only conclusion that he arrived would be to wait a week and then give it back. Even like that, Donnie was sure that even if he didn't give it back it wouldn't matter, probably the woman wouldn't miss this mirror as she simply gave it away in order to get rid of trash.
---
"Donnie! What is this?" his sister Bella asked once she saw the mirror that Donnie had left on the table of the living room when he arrived back home.
He was preparing himself a sandwich in the kitchen so he answer her back shouting, without looking at what she was doing "A kind of a prop... a gypsy lady give it to me, saying that it's something that can change my life..."
"Yeah, right... If this is a mirror, it's a shitty one... And how should you use it?"
"She said something about rotating the knob at the bottom of the handle to the left." he awaited further questions but they didn't come. Instead the sound of something falling to the floor was heard short after. "Bella?"
Donnie went back to the living room. It was empty and at the feet of the table was the mirror, apparently it has fell when Gabriella left it back from where she took it.
Doonie picked it, but he threw it when he gazed upon his reflection.
"What the-" Picking it up again, there was no more the diffused reflection that was characteristic from the mirror, it has corrected itself and now the strange surface gave a clear image of everything that was reflected in it.
But instead of seeing his face looking back at him, this time was the face of his sister, mimicking each and every one of his movements and expressions, which in these moments was only one;
Fright.
"Bella... Bella! Can you hear me!?" Donnie's sister was moving her mouth in the mirror, but he couldn't hear anything. The look of apprehension on Gabriella's face was agitating Donnie second by second, to the point that Donnie was fearing a panic attack. "Oh God! Bella I will help you!"
Without waiting for an answer Donnie ran to his room, surely there would be something on the internet? If this was real - and if magic was real - the implications were only adding to the list of problem in Donnie's mind. He hoped that all of this was a dream... but everything pointed that in this case, in the best of cases, it was a nightmare.
"Oh god, oh god, oh god...." the room was as he had left it this morning, bedsheets disordered and put together at the end of the bed and on the seat that he used for his computer there were all the clothes yet to be cleaned. The large mirror at the front of his wardrobe reflecting each and every move that Donnie was making, from his frantic movement to his desperate expression. Taking the hand mirror to his eyes height he shouted "Don't worry Bella! I will take you out from there, I just need to-"
Something was off... from his position, he was facing his wardrobe mirror that reflected his full body, and in his hand at around his face height, he has her sister face... Something about the expression of both his and Bella was bugging him out. Slowly, he approached the big mirror and put the small mirror side by side always at his face height. Donnie and Bella expression were the same, differing only in looks alone.
Bringing the free hand to his face, Donnie watched not only as his reflection made the same, but the Bella's one imitate him as if it was his reflection, "Bella...? Can you hear...me?" Bella in the mirror moved her mouth not as if asking for help, but as a reflection of him being Bella. From his face to his hair to his body, Bella imitated every each of his moves. "If this is real, then..." as a final test, he started rising his t-shirt, but meanwhile the image in the little mirror showed the movement of her hand, it wasn't able to move the clothes compared to Donnie.
"Fuck me..."
It was certain that Bella was trapped in the mirror, and that now the mirror reflected him as Bella, but was she aware of what was happening outside the mirror? was she conscious that her brother was making her move in any way that he liked and that he could see her as he would like just by moving the mirror in certain ways... better not go there, she is my sister, Donnie though, still looking at Bella reflection.
"What was what that gypsy was saying.... Full turn left to absorb?" trying to turn the knob to the left, it was locked as she said it would be - meanwhile a visage was inside - "Follow the inscription to change..." he said looking at the runes by the frame, he started touching them but stopped himself when he was at the zenith - wouldn't like to cause an unnecessary transformation - "And full turn right to liberate!" he said at the same time that he did the motion that he had been told to do.
Instantly, as if being sucked out from the mirror, Gabriella body was thrown out from the direction that the mirror was facing, him. The unexpected release together with the weight of Gabriella body made Donnie fell to the floor, with Bella on top of him.
Fortunately she was asleep.
"Bella! Bella, oh my god you are free!" he shouted taking her sister by her shoulder after he was freed of her weight. Gabriella was sleeping normally, dreaming even. "Bella, wake up, please!" What if she couldn't wake up? Because of this fear, he started shaking her from the shoulder, increasing his force until finally, she started moving, She is alive!. Gabriella started to wake up, and after frowning and looking at every side - as disoriented - she looked directly at Donnie.
_What if she remembers everything? What should I tell her? What-_
"What I'm doing in your room, Donnie?" the voice of Bella was very slow, similar to the one that she use at mornings after just waken up, "I was in the living room... and then" she looked lost for words.
"Youstartedtofellasleep... and when I came back to my room, you were sleeping in my bed..."
"Really?... I guess..." and with that she stood up and left, still with a disoriented look.
Donnie remained fixed in his position. What have just happen? The mirror was magical and it was not a prop? I will have to pay 50 dollars!? What more can I do? Can I become anyone? Magic was real? All kind of though started floating in Donnie's mind, the possibilities and implications of his new mirror left him overwhelmed.
The only thing certain for now was that whatever happened meanwhile a person was inside the mirror, they wouldn't remember.
...But this only brought more questions to mind, interrogatives that Donnie needed to figure out before having a plan of action in how to use the mirror.
---
In his room, Donnie was walking left and right, periodically looking towards the mirror resting in the desk, and then again to repeat this routine. He had done this thing for at least one hour now as he thought about the implication of what he could do it, how he could do it, and the fact that magic was real. He had looked online, on the web and in weird forum were people fantasized about being other people.
Donnie had never thought of it, about being other one apart from himself - yes, he wanted to not be a nerd, to be popular with the girls and had thought of how it would be to be another person, but have never entertained the idea. Now instead, given the possibility, it was as if the mirror was whispering to him, to abuse it.
_But... but..._
He had lost time reading different stories and anecdotes, captions and role plays - the fetish unkown to him was more big than he had though.
_What would they do it with this?_
He had wanted to get out from his head, and with the mirror, he could go in another head.
"Donnie, dinner is ready!" from outside his door the voice of his sister had startled him, doing a little jump. The tradition of eating in family was specially more strict now than ever since the divorce of her mom.
Going down and being seated with them, talking about the day and about news Donnie couldn't help for his sight to wander in the bodies of the two people, two females closest to him. His sister with the golden locks and pearl white smile, popular and charismatic with a lot of friends, he didn't want to think about it but her body in perfect condition because of all of the training as cheerleader left her as a prime subject. Just thinking about how earlier in the day he had seen her reflection in the mirror was making him hard... If he had just completed the inscription... But it was wrong...
"Donnie, are you listening?"
"Yes, it's wrong!" a pause and rubor, he cleared his voice, "sorry, what were you saying?"
"I swear, I worked all the day for you and your sister and..." his mother continue with the tirade of a forty something female consumed by divorce and work. His father had always said that your mother was a workaholic, and he couldn't not agree with it. As she talked, Donnie noticed that she released an aura that commanded other to respect her, to listen to her, to follow her, all the qualities that he wished he had.
His sister would become suspicios if she become asleep for the second time in the day without her consciense, so it was later in night when her mother was entering the bathroom to wash herself that Donnie decided to act. Hiding in the corner, his positioned the mirror so her mother would be right in the middle in the moment that she would open the bathroom door. As he heard the knob turnin, Donnie turned left the knob of the mirror. He remained like that, petrified in the spot as he tried to hear for any hint that his mother was still there, the door closing, some steps, anything.
As he slowly turned the mirror towards him, in it the reflection of his mother could be seen. A crazy smile appeared at this moment as Donnie run towards the bathroom and closed it behind him.
"Yes!" The mirror could be used from away, as long as a person was in the reflection. Just this fact alone justified what he had done, and now it was time to reapt the benefits. Turned towards him, his mother face in the reflection of the mirro, with a slow motion he passed hid index finger over the weird runes of the mirror, until he was back wher he started. It felt as if a fuzzy fog was created within him and the mirror - his image being exchanged with his mother - but it only lasted a moment, and this time in the reflection was his face.
"Did it-" he had to stop, his voice sounding feminine and mature. The hand that held the mirror seemed more delicate and thin, but also older given the wrinkles that could be seen from near. He walked towards the mirror, feeling how his new hips rocket left and right. In it, it wasn't his reflection that he had become accustomed to see, but his mother. Green eyes, short hair, same pearl like teeth as your sister. He could feel her tight clothes, the pain in the bones, the constricted the feeling of her bra and how a piece of cloth was alodged firmly in his mother crack. "I did it!"
In front of the mirror, Donnie frenetically tried to disrobe all of her clothes, having particular problems with the black bra now in his possession. The naked body of his mother, taut and slender didn't seem to be of a forty something woman - she took great care of her body, eating healthy and regularly going to the gym - but the pains on the joints gave away her true age.
"Soooo... I was about to take a shower..."
---
The shower was a long one, Donnie relished in all the feeling that his mother's body could provide him - the temperature at wich point he normally take showers wasn't enough, increasing the heat until copius amount of vapor was generated. His new nipples were sensitive, a current passing through his body every time he cleaned them with the loofah and it wasn't long before her new long and delicate fingers were probing his inside.
His exploration was cut short when his sister asked if everything was alright, given that he had forgotten himself with the exploration and time has fly by. But now inside her mother's bedroom, he had white card to continue his exploration, starting with a full on show of her wardrobe.
Dresses, pants, shirts and lots of underwear, wearing the items of cloth in different combination, in different angles, trying the cat walk that women often used - all meanwhile he used her cellphone to save this experience in video.
But the strong dish of the night was the modeling of the underwear and lingerie that his mother had. From the old fashioned pair that he though his mother usually used to the more daring ones, the type that by only holding in his hands was enough to bring rubor to his face, the kind that he had never expected his mother to have - which only make it better when he put it on and masturbated with it still on, over his new vagina.
"This. Is. The. Life." Donnie said between panting, after having another rocking orgasm. The pristine woman that was his mother was no more, replaced by a sexually hungry deviant, "If only she had... stuffs..." for more that he searched, he couldn't find any sexual toy - his mother seemingly more interested in work that in her own life (maybe the reason why she divorced his dad after an apparent affair with a younger woman).
Regaining his breath as his eyes closed in the dimly lit room, he gently caressed the black mirror. In the reflection his own body was smiling with the biggest smile since starting the last school year - gone were the stress of his life, replaced only by the now, the pleasure of his current body.
"Tomorrow will be great..." he thought in loud voice as he slowly fell asleep, his mind drifting with all the possibilities that he could do at the school the next day.
---
Highschool, the place were boys and girls at the doors of adulthood go in order to learn about the different topics that society consider as basic, learn the stablished social norms who rule society and make memories of the better years of one youth. At least this was what most adults would say, the chorus that many have sung so many times that it was a rule, an expectations - but adults forget in most cases that many times inside a high school, were hormones are in an all time high, the relationship of persons were more akin to the jungle, were the strongest (or popular) reign free to do what they liked.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..."
Everything will be alright, boys will be boys, it helps to form character. This and so many other phrases has been told to Donnie, specially by the guidance counselor Charlotte Smith every time that he had went for help, falling in deaf ear. Even with the sign of abuse as bruises or wet clothes, it didn't matter that the bullying continued to escalated, she still didn't do anything.
"Fat-ass, stop running!"
Donnie didn't want to ask for help of his mother - not only it would be lame - she was always so busy that he doubted that she would be interested in helping. Worse of it, his perpetrator was the little brother of his sister's boyfriend, and Donnie didn't want to win the animosity of her in case his mother did something.
"_Huff... Puff..._"
"You thought you could ran from us? This will be worse than if you haven't ran..."
After a good night of sleep, Donnie had woken still in his mother body. The recolection of what he had done hit him in the face - a depravity never seen before from his side. He turned back to himself, leaving her mother in the same position that he had been - well rested and still on lingerie. The breakfast had been the most uncomfortable thing of that morning, Donnie being unable to look at her mother's face, and she was humming as she prepared everything in a hurry.
Donnie was lost in his mind thinking about how to test the mirror, which was currently secured inside his bag, when he collided with the jocks just outside from the changing rooms. Worse of all, he had have a full on frontal crash with his bully, and instead of saying sorry as one would have expected, his first instinct was to run - this as a learnt habit - which probably was for the worst, not only because it would make them angry, but because his physical state wasn't one capable of outrunning them.
Fortunately the torture didn't last long because as soon as the bell sound started playing the group stormed off. Still, for Donnie it would mean to arrive late to class, first because he couldn't walk from the exhaustion and pain inflicted, and then because of the disaster that they had done with his stuff, taking them out from inside his bag and spreading them, a common tactic that they used.
---
"I think you should go to the Principal... maybe he can do something? Maybe he could fire the counselor?"
"I wouldn't bet on it, there are rumors that he is having as affair with her."
"But Donnie doesn't lose anything by asking!"
"I will think about it..."
In the lunchtime it was time to cry and pass the sorrows with his small group of friends; the one most understanding of his situation - given that he also was an usual victim of Leo - was Mateo - or Matt as he liked to be called - Donnie's childhood friend that has been a constant in both of their life. Son of a single mother, he was picked in school because of his Latin heritage, and together with Donnie - with was picked because of his weight - formed the group of the outcast. This soon became a real friendship, and the rest was history.
The other part of his group that completed the trio - or more like a duet with an unofficial member - was Yui Watanabe, the middle child of the Watanabe's family. Originally an outcast - this time not because of the race, but because of how she spoke English and her short hair that made her look more as a boy. This lasted during all of middle school until she started to develop as a woman - she was a late bloomer. After this, and with a renew confidence she became more outgoing and friendly (and popular), having a bigger social circle that the both of them together. In any case, the time passed together during middle school, created the kind of connection that was difficult to lose, and even now the group of friends still could find activities that all of them enjoyed, being one of them anime, with Yui in particular expressing interest in cosplaying, where in her words, she could pretend to be another person, outside of her tomboy persona.
"Seems like he woke up in a bad mood today... this could be one of the worst beating he had give you"
"Goddammit Yui, are you trying to help or what?"
"What? I'm trying to help! I'm trying to give good advice instead of the self comforting stuff that you are sprouting!" Yui started a shouting match with Matt, something rare but that had become more common since she started expanding her social circle.
"You don't understand anything!"
"Oh! I don't understand anything? Please tell me who was an outcast with the both of you until just some years ago!" Yui said as she put her hands by the hips, "Unlike you, I took control of my life. I fought for it"
"Guys..."
"It's not the same you are a woman! You don't understand what it is for men like us!"
"Oh? Now it is the misogynistic argument. For your information, girls can be more callous that men, they play with your mind, they don't care about inflicting physical pain" the voice of Yui started breaking, with some tears starting to appear in her eyes, with a body language that showed she was offended. "Fuck you Matt, I though you were better than this, you can't accept that you don't want to-"
"GUYS!" Donnie interrupted them, trying to project his voice the louder possible. "This is not like us, don't fight for something like this... I-"
"No Donnie, you don't understand...." from one of her big, black eyes a little tear appeared, "Until you do something for yourself, this will continue to escalate, and neither me, Matt, the principal or even your mother will be able to do anything." She stopped to clean her face with some wiping paper, her mascara destroyed in the process "Sorry Donnie, I can't do this anymore..." and she went away, leaving both guys stunned.
"Fuck!" Matt exploded, trying to hit an invisible can "fuck, fuck, FUCK!"
Silenced arrived between the both of them. A long, uncomfortable silence.
"Don't worry, I will not abandon you" Matt whispered after some minutes.
But in Donnie's mind, the words of Yui were still present. 'Until you do something for yourself' were the words of his friend. He knew that in her own way, she was trying to help him. Maybe Donnie couldn't stand up to Leo in the physical sense, but now with the mirror, he finally could do something about it himself.
"Yui is right, I will do something about it myself" Donnie finally said, as he started searching inside his bag for the mirror.
"What are you searching for?" Matt said looking at what Donnie was doing.
"For the solution to our problems!" and so, Donnie went to search on his bag.
A minute passed, another one and then another, Donnie couldn't find the magic mirror for much he searched on his bag. He had no doubts that he had left it there this morning, secured between the history book and the biology-
"So what it is that you are searching for...?"
"A mirror, my mirror!" Donnie shouted as he turned towards Matt, "My magic mirror that I was going to use against Leo!" he finished, looking squarely at Matt.
An uncomfortable silence descended between both of them, until Matt broke the silence, "Magical? Magical as..."
"Yes! Magical! Magical as a bag of holding or an invisibility ring... what it is that you don't understand?"
"...uhmm, everything?"
Donnie in his exalted state hasn't considered that Matt had yet to know about the existence of the magical mirror. The thought of losing the mirror has short-circuited any rational thought and only now he had caught on this. "I bought a magical mirror to an old lady..." he started as Donnie told the story of how the mirror that had been sold to him could trap one image - a visage - in the mirror, and how it could be used to replace someone else's body - leaving the part where he had enjoyed his mother's visage - and now it was the perfect time to enact vengeance on Leo, but he couldn't find it.
"Let's say I believe you... which I still don't... why you didn't test all of this before..." and as an intruding though flashed illuminated his face, he added "Heck! You could have became your own sister!"
"I was afraid! Ok? I didn't want to test it alone, I wanted to show it to you.... but I forgot..."
Silence again returned between the both of them. During this time, the bell indicating the return to the second half of classes sung.
"Look, I will help you find the mirror after classes... Maybe someone found it and left it in the lost and found!"
"I hope..."
The day hadn't started in the best way for Donnie - it was up there as one of the worst - but he hoped that it would become better.
But as they were returning - with Donnie continuing ensuring his friends that the mirror was real and about all of the things they could do with the mirror, and all the different use case that Donnie had thought since yesterday - Donnie failed to notice the messages that Yui had sent to his phone...
'Im sorry'
'didnt meant wat I said'
'Ill try to do something...'
---
"Shit! It is not here either!"
"Let's go, maybe you dreamed all of it?"
"No... definitely not..."
Both Donnie and Matt had gone towards the lost and found once all the classes had ended, but once that they controlled that it wasn't there, at the insistence of Donnie, they started searching for the mirror all around the school, even in places that Donnie haven't been during the day. Right now, in the stalls of the bathroom, they have been searching for more than one hour and they still haven't had luck.
Right now, Donnie was doubting if what he lived yesterday was real, if it was only part of his imagination that his mind had crafted in order to scape reality. But no... all the proof indicated that he hadn't hallucinated... that, or he had started to suffer schizophrenia, or a severe case of gender disphoria.
"C'mon man, are you sure that it was in your bag... maybe you left it in your house..." could it be? If that was the case....
"Yeah, I think you're right..." If he couldn't do anything anymore he didn't need to cry over spilled water. "Anyway, have you seen Yui?"
"Didn't you had classes with her?"
"Yeah, but she didn't show up" After you have arrived at classes, you have seen her messages. But even after assuring her that she was right and that she shouldn't have to worry, she hadn't answered. 'What if Leo did something to her?' was the preoccupation in his mind, but internally he knew that he wouldn't touch a woman.
"Weird... anyway, if you see her, tell her I'm sorry... I have to go, my mother will start to worry if I don't arrive on time."
"Ok, sure... talk to you later"
"Later!"
Yeah, if Donnie couldn't do anything, maybe it was better to return home, look at some anime and later play some League of Legends with Matt, this would maintain his mind far away from the problem... but first he had to go towards the Watanabe's, to see if everything was fine with his friend.
He hadn't taken two step towards his bicycle when a series of text started arriving. They were from Yui, but something was off about them...
'Loseeer'
'Fatass'
'Little bitch'
'Yui! Everything fine???'
In an uncharacteristic show of character, his friend had started insulting Donnie. Fearing the worst, Donnie called her - it was quicker than waiting for her to answer. The call ended without accepting the call, so he tried two times, three times... It was only when he had started to give up that someone answered.
"Yui! is every-"
"Aaaaaah"
His voice had been interrupted from what he could only describe as a moan, the kind that he have heard before in porn. The long moan didn't stop, instead it continued in a series of smaller ones. What preoccupied Donnie the most was the fact that from the other line he could make the voices of men, but they were far away from the cellphone so he couldn't understand what they were saying.
"Yui, YUI! What the Fuck!?"
"Hey Fatass...." the voice that finally answered him from the other side was without a doubt Leo. In what context would Yui be doing what you feared in the presence of Leo? Was this referred to the fact that she would do something? Would she sacrifice her purity for you?
"Leo you motherfucker, if you do anything to Yui I-"
"What!? You will fight me?" Laughs came from the other side, apparently whatever you said was being broadcaster to an audience that you didn't want to know. "Listen, Yui here is taking your place, aren't you happy? Or maybe, you would prefer to be in her position"
"Bullshit! Yui would never do something like that!"
"Here..." you heard Leo passing the cellphone to another person, but within a second you knew who would answer from the other side, as the proximity of the moans increased.
"Hey bitch..." a sensual voice could be heard coming from Yui.
"Yui! You don't need to do anything, I-I-"
"Heck no! You will not do anything because this is the best thing ever! I'm so fucking tigh!"
"Yui..."
"I'm enjoying myself... you should also do it... almost-" This time a cry was heard right next to Donnie's ear, the orgasm of his friend was loud enough that anyone that would have been near him could have heard it. From a silence that seemed to last an eternity, a weak "here... take some photos" was heard.
"Fatass, don't cry, I will sent you a gift so you can masturbate with the little dick of yours... Yui will be enjoying us" Leo said as he finished the call.
"Wait! Yui!" but it was too late, the call had ended unilaterally, and no matter how many times Donnie tried to call back, it didn't matter, someone had turned off her cellphone.
Some minutes passed and as he was despairing, some message started arriving to Donnie's cellphone from an unknown number. "What the fuck!" was the only thing that Donnie could mutter as he observed the naked body of his friend. The different images showed your friend from different angles and with different expressions. The first ones seemed to be from just after the call, as she rested on her back with a satisfied expression, letting for all the world to see her nether region and the big breast that she normally hide on her hoodie.
But then they turned to her playing with her breast and vagina, sucking her own nipples as she fingered her clit, every image being raunchier than the one before it. The last thing sent was a video, in which after pressing play - against Donnie's better judgement - it showed his friend sucking and tit fucking a dick, filmed in first person. In the back Donnie could make the image of different members of the football team with someone saying "that's so gay...".
Enrapture with the photos, he noticed only now that he have an erection - When was that he had gained one? Before or after the photos? With the first moan or with her orgasm?
"Shit..." Without being able to do anything, he returned back home, trying to hide the erection in the way back.
---
Filthy. Bad Friend. Traitor. Conflicting emotions were appearing in Donnie's head as he masturbated to the image of Yui in his cellphone. The emotion that he had always maintained under control - lust for his female friend - has currently gone out of control. From her naked body, to her bigger than expected boobs, and finally her vagina including the tunnel that shouldn't be looked at, the taboo of the situation made this situation worse for the heart of Donnie.
"Yui... Why? Why them?" truth be told, since he received that call and the following messages with the photos, his mind has been in disarray. He had always expected that the little crush that he have towards his friends would become true, even if he didn't act on it because he didn't want to jeopardize the situation. So when not only had the opportunity to ogle at her, but also when she was doing God knows what with his bully and his friends - the maximum betrayal - Donnie's mind did short circuit.
With a hand on his cellphone as he examined the patch of pubic hair of her friend, and the other doing the pumping motion on his dick, Donnie ejaculated all over his cellphone, not the first one of the day. He had been doing this since he returned from school, he hadn't been able to focus his mind in other tasks.
"Donnie! Time to eat" only when finally the voice of his mother called him for dinner, he noticed how much time have passed, already dark outside, before going downstairs he looked towards the Watanabe's house, just across the yard, and directly towards Yui's bedroom - the curtains on the opposed windows were hiding the dimly lit room.
"Yui..." a whisper escaped his mouth.
Going downstairs, he wondered if he could have done something different, if he could have prevented this, in any form. Looking at his sister and mother putting the table side by side, he wondered if the relationship between his group of friends would return to normal.
"Something happened Donnie? You are pale...."
"N-Nothing.... A ltittle bit stressed..."
Seated across his sister, he wondered, what if he never brought the mirror to the school, only using it at home, far away from his bully only within his group of friends, learning little by little the limitations...
"The mirror!" Donnie jumped from his seat, startling both his mother and sister. How could have he forgotten!? Leo and his group of friends had taken stuff out of his bag and must have got the mirror back then. "Fuck!"
"Donnie! Words!" his mother quickly reprimanded him, but that didn't matter, now he knew what he had to do.
"I have to go, mom!"
"No you don't, now sit back and-"
But he didn't care, standing up and running outside towards his neighbor's house, the Watanabe's, was more important than a week without internet - or whatever punishment his mother would give him.
Arriving to their house and ringing the bell, just now intrusive thoughts have started entering his mind, What I'm going to say? What if they are eating? What is- but without making him wait, Yui's mom, Esther Watanabe opened the door. An ever present smile was in her face. The petit woman was wearing a Japanese type dress that covered her whole body.
"Hi Donni! So long since I have seen you! Is everything alright?"
"Hi Ms. Watanabe... Is Yui home?" you didn't want to lose time answering her, already knowing the answer. Knowing if your friend was alright was more important than giving a good impression.
"Yes, she's in her room... Why?"
"Something from the school... Can I see her?"
"Sure?" She answered you as she stepped aside. He didn't make himself wait, taking quickly his shoes off - a tradition in the Watanabes's house. He runned from the entrance to the second floor and right outside Yui's bedroom, he tried to enter but the door was closed.
"Occupied!" came Yui's voice from inside.
"Yui! open! is me! Donnie!" he shouted, he didn't care if every other person in the house could hear him. Not two seconds passed and the door opened a little bit as he was yanked inside the bedroom, feeling to the floor in the dimly illuminated space, a musky smell permeating all the interior. "Yui, are you-" fine is what he wanted to ask, but as it turned out, he could see that that Yui wasn't his Yui.
His friends had a bemusing smile, looking in his direction, as if proving for a reaction. Donnie didn't care so much about this, as his friend body was wearing only a thong, her bare tits with her nipples looking right back at him. In her current naked state, he appreciated Yui's body as never before - the marked abdominal from her torso, the toned legs that rose until her big hips, her vagina hidden behind a black piece of cloth. A flushed face, perspiration covering her body, the pheromones in the room and the copious amount of clothes scattered around was enough to make him know what Yui - or the person wearing her visage - was doing.
"How-"
"Your Chinese friend has a rocking body, I will not lie" Yui interrupted him before he could finish his sentence "The amount of times that I have came in this body... God! Just thinking about it makes me wet" Yui finished as she stroked her pussy over the thong.
"Don't do that to her!"
"Or what!?" she changed her tone, to a more intimidating one, approaching you little by little, "Is the fat ass going to stop me from touching myself?"
"Give her body back-"
"mmmm... What would happen if I shout "rape"?" This made Donnie stop, feeling a cold shiver running down his spine. One word and his life would be over.
Cold in his feet, Donnie could only mutter a small "D-Don't do it..." almost imperceptible for anyone but him and Yui.
"Yeah, that's what I though." The person in Yui's body turned to the bed, resting her back in one of the many cushions that were there, and spreading her legs at the same time that moved her little thong to the side "Now lick, I have heard that it is awesome".
The smell increased from one moment to the other. Being face to face with the wet hair of her pubic zone was something that he have never dreamt of, even when you resorted to her during some of your masturbating session. He could hear a small ti.... coming from the back of your head as the thumbing on your chest resonate in all of your body. Feeling light weighted, Donnie did one fake step after which he found himself on the floor, with Yui looking down on him, displease present on her face.
"What a bitch..."
His vision now blurry only let him see that Yui had stood up before everything went to dark. In this final moments he could only mutter "Yui..." before Donnie lost consciousness.
transformation
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These stories tells you about Peter Parker and his lovely redheaded big-tittied wife, Mary-Jane Waston-Parker with her transformations.
(PETER PARKER, in his classic red-and-blue Spider-Man suit, though the mask is off and pushed back like a hood, sits on a comfortable couch next to his wife, MARY JANE WATSON-PARKER. She’s stunning, with a cascade of fiery red hair and a confident, loving smile. They’re both turned slightly, as if addressing a camera. A soft, romantic light glows around them.)
PETER: (Clears his throat, a little nervous) So, uh… hey. Hi. If you’re watching this, you probably know the deal. Radioactive spider, great power, great responsibility, all that. The whole… thing.
MARY JANE: (Laughs, a warm, rich sound. She playfully elbows him.) The whole ‘thing’? Tiger, you saved the city, like, a dozen times last week. You can say it. You’re Spider-Man. The Amazing Spider-Man.
PETER: (Blushes slightly, smiling at her) Right. That. And this… this is my wife, Mary Jane. The most amazing woman in any universe, multiverse, or frankly, any conceivable dimension. Geez, I'm just getting tired of all the multiverse now.
MARY JANE: (She leans into him, her head on his shoulder) Flatterer. But he’s not wrong. We’ve been through it all, haven’t we, Pete? That dorky, nervous kid from Queens who tripped over his own feet asking me out…
PETER: (Groans good-naturedly) Do we have to bring that up?
MARY JANE: Absolutely. And our first kiss… up on that web-line, with the city lights sparkling below us. I knew you were my Spider then. I’ve known you were Spider-Man since we were teenagers, and I’ve loved every single crazy, web-slinging, villain-punching minute of it.
PETER: (He looks at her, his expression full of adoration) And we got married. For real. No devil deals, no retcons, no editors from on high deciding we’d be better off miserable and apart. Just… us.
MARY JANE: (Her expression turns wry, addressing the ‘camera’ directly) You hear that, certain comic book writers? We’re happy. We’re together. We’re a team. And we have a life that’s… well, let’s just say it’s never, ever boring.
PETER: Understatement of the century, MJ. Because while my life is pretty consistently weird, yours… yours has taken some truly unexpected turns.
MARY JANE: (A mischievous glint appears in her emerald eyes) Oh, you have no idea. Or, well, I guess you’re about to. We thought we’d share some stories. The kind of stories they’d never let us tell in the funny pages these days. The good stuff.
PETER: (Rubs the back of his neck, a familiar gesture) Right. The… ahem… transformative experiences.
MARY JANE: (She grins, a brilliantly wicked smile) That’s one way to put it. Remember that time, a few years back, when that weird black goo from space didn’t latch onto you, Tiger? It decided it liked my fashion sense better, including improving everything within me.
PETER: How could I forget? I came home and instead of my beautiful wife, there was… a towering, powerful, incredibly voluptuous creature of pure alien symbiote. White spider emblem and everything. You called yourself… Venom or Venomess.
MARY JANE: (Her voice drops to a playful, sultry growl) We… are Venom. And we had… needs. Very specific, very physical needs. And let’s just say my strong, sticky husband was more than equipped to handle them. All those extra tendrils came in very handy.
PETER: (His face is now completely red. He fans himself with his hand.) Wow. Okay. Yeah. That’s… that’s a story. Then there was the summer you and I went to Central Park and found that weird geode that fell from the sky…
MARY JANE: Oh, the Omnitrix! Yeah, instead of a kid named Ben Tennyson, I received it instead. One touch and suddenly I had access to many alien forms. Pyronite was great for roasting marshmallows, Tetramand was basically She-Hulk but an alien with four arms and four eyes… but my personal favorite is Galvanic Mechamorph because it would allow us to-
PETER: (Sputtering) MJ! The kids might—
MARY JANE: They’re not listening! Relax, tiger. Then there was the mishap at that gala at the Natural History Museum. I fell right into the exhibit…
PETER: The Clayface exhibit! Yes, I remember. Plus, Bruce Wayne and Reed Richards help you recover yourself from Joker. At that time, it didn't work right away. By the time I takes you home, you’re starts to become a shapeshifting mound of living clay. And you know what? You were still the most beautiful woman in the room. Even if you're a blob clay monster. That was… a unique experience.
MARY JANE: (Winking) You didn’t complain. Not once. And let’s not forget your own upgrade, Mr. Kamen Rider. When that ancient belt fused with your web-shooters…
PETER: (Strikes a mock-heroic pose) “Henshin!” Yeah, the armored suit was cool, I’ll admit. But it was nothing compared to you bursting through our bedroom wall as Cutey Honey, ready for… ahem… ‘action’.
MARY JANE: “Honey Flash!” It was all in the name of justice. And very, very thorough lovemaking.
(They both laugh, lost in the memory for a moment. Peter looks at MJ with utter love.)
PETER: Through it all… symbiote, aliens, clay, magical girl transformations, and many things… you’ve always been you, MJ. My Mary Jane. And I wouldn’t change a single, bizarre, incredible second of it.
MARY JANE: Me neither, Tiger. Me neither. Now, how about we tell our friends here about the time I—
(Suddenly, a door bursts open off-screen. A young girl, MAYDAY PARKER, about 8 years old, runs in, followed by her little brother, BENJY, who’s about 5.)
MAYDAY: Mom! Dad! Uncle Johnny is on fire in the backyard again!
BENJY: (Holding a action figure) He says it’s ‘flame on’ but it’s just the barbecue! It’s boring!
(Peter and MJ look at each other and sigh in perfect, happy unison.)
PETER: (To the ‘camera’, shrugging apologetically) Duty—and family—calls. Don’t worry, True Believers… there are plenty more stories where those came from.
MARY JANE: (Blows a kiss) And they’re all much, much better than ‘One More Day’. Promise!
(They get up from the couch, Peter swooping Benjy into his arms while MJ puts an arm around Mayday, and they walk out of the frame together, a perfect, loving, chaotic family.)
[STORY TITLE CARD APPEARS:]
PETER PARKER THE AMAZING SPIDER-MAN & MARY-JANE WITH MANY TRANSFORMATIONS STORIES
[UPCOMING ATTRACTIONS LIST:]
* Peter Parker and Mary-Jane - The Amazing SPIDER-MAN & Venomess What if Mary-Jane bonds and has the symbiote at first instead Peter Parker.
* Spider-Man & MJ-10 What if Mary-Jane wields and have the Omnitrix instead of Ben Tennyson
* Spider-Man & ClayMJ MJ becomes a shapeshifting clay creature, and Peter proves his love is more than skin deep.
(PETER PARKER, in his classic red-and-blue Spider-Man suit, though the mask is off and pushed back like a hood, sits on a comfortable couch next to his wife, MARY JANE WATSON-PARKER. She’s stunning, with a cascade of fiery red hair and a confident, loving smile. They’re both turned slightly, as if addressing a camera. A soft, romantic light glows around them.)
PETER: (Clears his throat, a little nervous) So, uh… hey. Hi. If you’re watching this, you probably know the deal. Radioactive spider, great power, great responsibility, all that. The whole… thing.
MARY JANE: (Laughs, a warm, rich sound. She playfully elbows him.) The whole ‘thing’? Tiger, you saved the city, like, a dozen times last week. You can say it. You’re Spider-Man. The Amazing Spider-Man.
PETER: (Blushes slightly, smiling at her) Right. That. And this… this is my wife, Mary Jane. The most amazing woman in any universe, multiverse, or frankly, any conceivable dimension. Geez, I'm just getting tired of all the multiverse now.
MARY JANE: (She leans into him, her head on his shoulder) Flatterer. But he’s not wrong. We’ve been through it all, haven’t we, Pete? That dorky, nervous kid from Queens who tripped over his own feet asking me out…
PETER: (Groans good-naturedly) Do we have to bring that up?
MARY JANE: Absolutely. And our first kiss… up on that web-line, with the city lights sparkling below us. I knew you were my Spider then. I’ve known you were Spider-Man since we were teenagers, and I’ve loved every single crazy, web-slinging, villain-punching minute of it.
PETER: (He looks at her, his expression full of adoration) And we got married. For real. No devil deals, no retcons, no editors from on high deciding we’d be better off miserable and apart. Just… us.
MARY JANE: (Her expression turns wry, addressing the ‘camera’ directly) You hear that, certain comic book writers? We’re happy. We’re together. We’re a team. And we have a life that’s… well, let’s just say it’s never, ever boring.
PETER: Understatement of the century, MJ. Because while my life is pretty consistently weird, yours… yours has taken some truly unexpected turns.
MARY JANE: (A mischievous glint appears in her emerald eyes) Oh, you have no idea. Or, well, I guess you’re about to. We thought we’d share some stories. The kind of stories they’d never let us tell in the funny pages these days. The good stuff.
PETER: (Rubs the back of his neck, a familiar gesture) Right. The… ahem… transformative experiences.
MARY JANE: (She grins, a brilliantly wicked smile) That’s one way to put it. Remember that time, a few years back, when that weird black goo from space didn’t latch onto you, Tiger? It decided it liked my fashion sense better, including improving everything within me.
PETER: How could I forget? I came home and instead of my beautiful wife, there was… a towering, powerful, incredibly voluptuous creature of pure alien symbiote. White spider emblem and everything. You called yourself… Venom or Venomess.
MARY JANE: (Her voice drops to a playful, sultry growl) We… are Venom. And we had… needs. Very specific, very physical needs. And let’s just say my strong, sticky husband was more than equipped to handle them. All those extra tendrils came in very handy.
PETER: (His face is now completely red. He fans himself with his hand.) Wow. Okay. Yeah. That’s… that’s a story. Then there was the summer you and I went to Central Park and found that weird geode that fell from the sky…
MARY JANE: Oh, the Omnitrix! Yeah, instead of a kid named Ben Tennyson, I received it instead. One touch and suddenly I had access to many alien forms. Pyronite was great for roasting marshmallows, Tetramand was basically She-Hulk but an alien with four arms and four eyes… but my personal favorite is Galvanic Mechamorph because it would allow us to-
PETER: (Sputtering) MJ! The kids might—
MARY JANE: They’re not listening! Relax, tiger. Then there was the mishap at that gala at the Natural History Museum. I fell right into the exhibit…
PETER: The Clayface exhibit! Yes, I remember. Plus, Bruce Wayne and Reed Richards help you recover yourself from Joker. At that time, it didn't work right away. By the time I takes you home, you’re starts to become a shapeshifting mound of living clay. And you know what? You were still the most beautiful woman in the room. Even if you're a blob clay monster. That was… a unique experience.
MARY JANE: (Winking) You didn’t complain. Not once. And let’s not forget your own upgrade, Mr. Kamen Rider. When that ancient belt fused with your web-shooters…
PETER: (Strikes a mock-heroic pose) “Henshin!” Yeah, the armored suit was cool, I’ll admit. But it was nothing compared to you bursting through our bedroom wall as Cutey Honey, ready for… ahem… ‘action’.
MARY JANE: “Honey Flash!” It was all in the name of justice. And very, very thorough lovemaking.
(They both laugh, lost in the memory for a moment. Peter looks at MJ with utter love.)
PETER: Through it all… symbiote, aliens, clay, magical girl transformations, and many things… you’ve always been you, MJ. My Mary Jane. And I wouldn’t change a single, bizarre, incredible second of it.
MARY JANE: Me neither, Tiger. Me neither. Now, how about we tell our friends here about the time I—
(Suddenly, a door bursts open off-screen. A young girl, MAYDAY PARKER, about 8 years old, runs in, followed by her little brother, BENJY, who’s about 5.)
MAYDAY: Mom! Dad! Uncle Johnny is on fire in the backyard again!
BENJY: (Holding a action figure) He says it’s ‘flame on’ but it’s just the barbecue! It’s boring!
(Peter and MJ look at each other and sigh in perfect, happy unison.)
PETER: (To the ‘camera’, shrugging apologetically) Duty—and family—calls. Don’t worry, True Believers… there are plenty more stories where those came from.
MARY JANE: (Blows a kiss) And they’re all much, much better than ‘One More Day’. Promise!
(They get up from the couch, Peter swooping Benjy into his arms while MJ puts an arm around Mayday, and they walk out of the frame together, a perfect, loving, chaotic family.)
[STORY TITLE CARD APPEARS:]
PETER PARKER THE AMAZING SPIDER-MAN & MARY-JANE WITH MANY TRANSFORMATIONS STORIES
[UPCOMING ATTRACTIONS LIST:]
* Peter Parker and Mary-Jane - The Amazing SPIDER-MAN & Venomess What if Mary-Jane bonds and has the symbiote at first instead Peter Parker.
* Spider-Man & MJ-10 What if Mary-Jane wields and have the Omnitrix instead of Ben Tennyson
* Spider-Man & ClayMJ MJ becomes a shapeshifting clay creature, and Peter proves his love is more than skin deep.
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Will and Claire become close to their siblings in a very intimate sense
The morning light was harsh through the blinds, slicing across the rumpled bed. Claire blinked, her head throbbing with a dull, medicinal ache. Something warm and soft was pressed against her. She looked down.
Amy was nestled in her arms, asleep, her blond hair fanned across the pillow. Except… Claire’s arms were thickly bandaged from wrist to elbow, and the body she held was decidedly male. The firm plane of a chest, the coarse hair on a forearm. Her heart began to hammer against her ribs.
“Amy?” she whispered, her voice a dry rasp. It came out wrong. Deeper. Rougher.
The body in her arms stirred. Blue eyes, so like Will’s, fluttered open. They widened in instant, sheer panic. “Frank? What the hell? Why are you… holding me?” The voice was high, melodic. Amy’s voice. But the tone was all Will—confused, irritable, direct.
Claire—in Frank’s body—pushed herself up on her elbows. Past the tangle of Amy’s blond hair, she saw the closet mirror. The reflection showed Frank’s familiar, lean frame, his own dark hair mussed from sleep, his bandaged arms wrapped around a petite, curvy Amy. But Amy’s face was contorted in a terror that wasn’t hers.
“Will?” Claire breathed, the name feeling foreign in this new throat. “Is that you in there?”
The person in Amy’s body scrambled back, the sheets pooling around a waist that was suddenly, distressingly narrow. “Claire? What did you call me?” He—Will—looked down at himself, at the pronounced swell of his sister’s breasts beneath the thin cotton sleep shirt, and his hands flew to his throat. “That’s my… this is Amy’s voice. What is this?”
“I think… I think I’m you,” Claire said, the reality of it dawning with a sick, dizzying weight. She swung Frank’s legs—her legs—out of bed. The movement was all wrong, the center of gravity shifted, a heavy, unfamiliar weight swinging between her thighs. She ignored it, for now. “The accident. The goodbye. Don’t you remember?”
Will—in Amy—stood up shakily. He looked down at his new body, his hands hovering over the generous curves. “I remember you… you and me, in the car. Crushed. Then nothing. Then waking up here, smothered by my little brother.” He shuddered, a full-body tremor that made the new flesh quiver. “This isn’t right. This is Amy.”
“And this is Frank,” Claire said, staring at Frank’s hands—her hands—as she flexed them. “We’re in our siblings. Our spouses’ siblings.” The sheer, grotesque improbability of it threatened to swallow her. But the throbbing in her bandaged arms was real. The discharge papers on the nightstand were real.
They found them, the crisp hospital printout. Franklin Miller, contusions, lacerations. Amy Miller, contusions, mild concussion. The names were wrong, but the injuries mapped. They had been patched up and sent home, two souls crammed into the wrong, aching containers.
Wordlessly, they moved to the kitchen, the beach house silent except for the distant crash of Pacific waves. The medical instructions said to clean and re-dress the wounds. They worked in a stunned quiet, Claire clumsily winding fresh gauze around Will-Amy’s slender forearm, Will using Amy’s delicate fingers to secure the wrap on Claire-Frank’s broader bicep with a efficiency that was utterly his own.
“We need to shower,” Will said finally, his voice tight. “We’re covered in road grit and… and whatever else.”
Claire nodded. It was practical. A step. They stood in the master bathroom, a spacious tiled room with a large glass-walled shower. The silence grew thick.
“Just… get it over with,” Will muttered, not looking at her. He—in Amy’s body—peeled the sleep shirt over his head, revealing Amy’s full, pale breasts. He froze, his breath catching, his face a mask of profound disorientation. Claire watched, a strange, detached part of her noting how Will’s shock did nothing to diminish the natural, ripe beauty of the form he now wore.
Swallowing hard, Claire turned her attention to Frank’s clothes. The jeans were awkward, the button fly an unfamiliar puzzle for her fingers. She got them open, pushed them down Frank’s hips. The boxer briefs followed. And there it was.
Frank’s penis, soft and nestled in a thatch of dark hair. It was… there. A presence. A weight. She stared at it, this alien appendage that was now, technically, hers. The core of her being, Claire, recoiled. But the body she inhabited didn’t. There was a low, curious hum of sensation, a connection to the thing that was both deeply wrong and undeniably physical.
Will had stripped completely now, standing naked by the sink. He was staring into the mirror, at Amy’s face, with a kind of horrified fascination. His hands skimmed over the dramatic hourglass curve of the hips, the soft swell of the stomach. “God,” he whispered.
“Don’t,” Claire said, her new voice gruff. “Just… don’t think. Clean. That’s all.”
They stepped into the shower together, a bizarre and intimate pantomime of their old married life. The water was hot, a welcome shock. Claire let it sluice over Frank’s broad shoulders, watching as Will soaped Amy’s body with a clinical, hurried desperation. The suds slid over smooth skin, over curves that Will had only ever seen on his sister from a detached, brotherly distance. Now he was mapping them with his own, stolen hands.
Claire’s own washing was more hesitant. The soap slid over Frank’s chest, flat and hard. Down the taut stomach. Her hand, wrapped in plastic to protect the bandages, hesitated again at the groin. She had to clean it. It was just a body part. A piece of biology.
She touched it. Frank’s flaccid penis was soft, vulnerable in her grip. She washed it quickly, the soap slick, her mind screaming the wrongness of it. But as her fingers moved, a jolt went through her—through Frank’s body. A thick, gathering tension. A flood of warmth that had nothing to do with the shower. She gasped, and the thing in her hand began to change, to swell and stiffen, lengthening and thickening in a way that was utterly, overwhelmingly male.
In the mirror of her mind, she was still Claire. But the sensation… the sensation was a deep, insistent pulse, a claiming of blood and flesh that centered entirely on that stretching, hardening shaft. It felt powerful. It felt hungry.
She looked up, water streaming down Frank’s face, and met Will’s eyes. He had seen. He was staring, not at her face, but lower, at the clear, hard evidence of the body’s response. In his own new body, Amy’s body, a sympathetic flush spread across the chest and throat.
“It’s… it’s just the heat,” Claire stammered, the excuse weak even to her own ears.
Will didn’t answer. He was looking down now, at Amy’s body. At the space between her legs. His expression was one of dawning, awful comprehension. “It would… it would stretch,” he said, his voice hollow. “Wouldn’t it? If we… that would stretch this.” He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. The image was there, brutal and visceral: the thick, hard length of Frank, of the penis Claire now felt twitching in her hand, pushing into the tight, small space that was now his.
The thought should have revolted him. It should have revolted her. But standing there in the steam, with the water beating down on their stolen, aching forms, it didn’t. It hummed between them, a forbidden current. A terrible, logical next step. The body Claire was in throbbed with a need that was entirely about filling a space, about the profound, physical truth of fit and stretch. And the body Will was in, for all his mental horror, seemed to soften in response, a faint, unfamiliar ache blooming low in Amy’s belly.
They finished rinsing in silence, the air crackling with things unsaid. They toweled off, avoiding each other’s eyes, avoiding looking too long at the reflections in the fogged-up glass. They were two people, stranded in the wrong skins, with the ghosts of their spouses between them and a terrifying, tantalizing new physics of flesh beckoning from the shadows of their own home.
The morning light was harsh through the blinds, slicing across the rumpled bed. Claire blinked, her head throbbing with a dull, medicinal ache. Something warm and soft was pressed against her. She looked down.
Amy was nestled in her arms, asleep, her blond hair fanned across the pillow. Except… Claire’s arms were thickly bandaged from wrist to elbow, and the body she held was decidedly male. The firm plane of a chest, the coarse hair on a forearm. Her heart began to hammer against her ribs.
“Amy?” she whispered, her voice a dry rasp. It came out wrong. Deeper. Rougher.
The body in her arms stirred. Blue eyes, so like Will’s, fluttered open. They widened in instant, sheer panic. “Frank? What the hell? Why are you… holding me?” The voice was high, melodic. Amy’s voice. But the tone was all Will—confused, irritable, direct.
Claire—in Frank’s body—pushed herself up on her elbows. Past the tangle of Amy’s blond hair, she saw the closet mirror. The reflection showed Frank’s familiar, lean frame, his own dark hair mussed from sleep, his bandaged arms wrapped around a petite, curvy Amy. But Amy’s face was contorted in a terror that wasn’t hers.
“Will?” Claire breathed, the name feeling foreign in this new throat. “Is that you in there?”
The person in Amy’s body scrambled back, the sheets pooling around a waist that was suddenly, distressingly narrow. “Claire? What did you call me?” He—Will—looked down at himself, at the pronounced swell of his sister’s breasts beneath the thin cotton sleep shirt, and his hands flew to his throat. “That’s my… this is Amy’s voice. What is this?”
“I think… I think I’m you,” Claire said, the reality of it dawning with a sick, dizzying weight. She swung Frank’s legs—her legs—out of bed. The movement was all wrong, the center of gravity shifted, a heavy, unfamiliar weight swinging between her thighs. She ignored it, for now. “The accident. The goodbye. Don’t you remember?”
Will—in Amy—stood up shakily. He looked down at his new body, his hands hovering over the generous curves. “I remember you… you and me, in the car. Crushed. Then nothing. Then waking up here, smothered by my little brother.” He shuddered, a full-body tremor that made the new flesh quiver. “This isn’t right. This is Amy.”
“And this is Frank,” Claire said, staring at Frank’s hands—her hands—as she flexed them. “We’re in our siblings. Our spouses’ siblings.” The sheer, grotesque improbability of it threatened to swallow her. But the throbbing in her bandaged arms was real. The discharge papers on the nightstand were real.
They found them, the crisp hospital printout. Franklin Miller, contusions, lacerations. Amy Miller, contusions, mild concussion. The names were wrong, but the injuries mapped. They had been patched up and sent home, two souls crammed into the wrong, aching containers.
Wordlessly, they moved to the kitchen, the beach house silent except for the distant crash of Pacific waves. The medical instructions said to clean and re-dress the wounds. They worked in a stunned quiet, Claire clumsily winding fresh gauze around Will-Amy’s slender forearm, Will using Amy’s delicate fingers to secure the wrap on Claire-Frank’s broader bicep with a efficiency that was utterly his own.
“We need to shower,” Will said finally, his voice tight. “We’re covered in road grit and… and whatever else.”
Claire nodded. It was practical. A step. They stood in the master bathroom, a spacious tiled room with a large glass-walled shower. The silence grew thick.
“Just… get it over with,” Will muttered, not looking at her. He—in Amy’s body—peeled the sleep shirt over his head, revealing Amy’s full, pale breasts. He froze, his breath catching, his face a mask of profound disorientation. Claire watched, a strange, detached part of her noting how Will’s shock did nothing to diminish the natural, ripe beauty of the form he now wore.
Swallowing hard, Claire turned her attention to Frank’s clothes. The jeans were awkward, the button fly an unfamiliar puzzle for her fingers. She got them open, pushed them down Frank’s hips. The boxer briefs followed. And there it was.
Frank’s penis, soft and nestled in a thatch of dark hair. It was… there. A presence. A weight. She stared at it, this alien appendage that was now, technically, hers. The core of her being, Claire, recoiled. But the body she inhabited didn’t. There was a low, curious hum of sensation, a connection to the thing that was both deeply wrong and undeniably physical.
Will had stripped completely now, standing naked by the sink. He was staring into the mirror, at Amy’s face, with a kind of horrified fascination. His hands skimmed over the dramatic hourglass curve of the hips, the soft swell of the stomach. “God,” he whispered.
“Don’t,” Claire said, her new voice gruff. “Just… don’t think. Clean. That’s all.”
They stepped into the shower together, a bizarre and intimate pantomime of their old married life. The water was hot, a welcome shock. Claire let it sluice over Frank’s broad shoulders, watching as Will soaped Amy’s body with a clinical, hurried desperation. The suds slid over smooth skin, over curves that Will had only ever seen on his sister from a detached, brotherly distance. Now he was mapping them with his own, stolen hands.
Claire’s own washing was more hesitant. The soap slid over Frank’s chest, flat and hard. Down the taut stomach. Her hand, wrapped in plastic to protect the bandages, hesitated again at the groin. She had to clean it. It was just a body part. A piece of biology.
She touched it. Frank’s flaccid penis was soft, vulnerable in her grip. She washed it quickly, the soap slick, her mind screaming the wrongness of it. But as her fingers moved, a jolt went through her—through Frank’s body. A thick, gathering tension. A flood of warmth that had nothing to do with the shower. She gasped, and the thing in her hand began to change, to swell and stiffen, lengthening and thickening in a way that was utterly, overwhelmingly male.
In the mirror of her mind, she was still Claire. But the sensation… the sensation was a deep, insistent pulse, a claiming of blood and flesh that centered entirely on that stretching, hardening shaft. It felt powerful. It felt hungry.
She looked up, water streaming down Frank’s face, and met Will’s eyes. He had seen. He was staring, not at her face, but lower, at the clear, hard evidence of the body’s response. In his own new body, Amy’s body, a sympathetic flush spread across the chest and throat.
“It’s… it’s just the heat,” Claire stammered, the excuse weak even to her own ears.
Will didn’t answer. He was looking down now, at Amy’s body. At the space between her legs. His expression was one of dawning, awful comprehension. “It would… it would stretch,” he said, his voice hollow. “Wouldn’t it? If we… that would stretch this.” He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. The image was there, brutal and visceral: the thick, hard length of Frank, of the penis Claire now felt twitching in her hand, pushing into the tight, small space that was now his.
The thought should have revolted him. It should have revolted her. But standing there in the steam, with the water beating down on their stolen, aching forms, it didn’t. It hummed between them, a forbidden current. A terrible, logical next step. The body Claire was in throbbed with a need that was entirely about filling a space, about the profound, physical truth of fit and stretch. And the body Will was in, for all his mental horror, seemed to soften in response, a faint, unfamiliar ache blooming low in Amy’s belly.
They finished rinsing in silence, the air crackling with things unsaid. They toweled off, avoiding each other’s eyes, avoiding looking too long at the reflections in the fogged-up glass. They were two people, stranded in the wrong skins, with the ghosts of their spouses between them and a terrifying, tantalizing new physics of flesh beckoning from the shadows of their own home.
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Vega's BEAUTIFUL face is destroyed by Chun Li so he replaces it.
A reimagining of 'Palette Swap' by Team Lady Valiant & FarhadTG
The final kick landed with a sickening crack. My heel connected squarely with Vega's porcelain mask, shattering it—and the bone beneath—with a sound like splintering china. He went down hard, clutching his ruined face, blood seeping between his perfect fingers. For a moment, there was only his ragged breathing and the ringing in my ears.
Then he started to laugh.
"Beautiful... so beautiful..." he gurgled through the wreckage of his jaw, his once-perfect features now a jigsaw puzzle of gore and ceramic shards. His free hand fumbled at his belt, producing a small device I recognized from Bison's labs. "But beauty... can be transferred."
"No—!" I lunged forward, but too late. He pressed the trigger.
The world exploded in white light and static. I felt myself falling, spinning, my consciousness ripping away from my body like silk tearing. When I could see again, I was looking up at the ceiling from the floor, my perspective completely wrong. Vega's hands—my hands now—rose into view. Long-fingered and pale. I touched my face and felt bandages, surgical tape, the swollen flesh beneath.
Across from me, Vega—now wearing my body—stood staring down at itself with wide, hungry eyes. He immediately grabbed the neckline of my qipao top and tore it open, exposing the breasts I'd known my whole life as if seeing them for the first time. "Exquisite," he breathed in my voice, a sound so wrong it made my stomach turn. He cupped them, his fingers—my fingers once—squeezing the weight of them with obscene fascination.
"Three days later."
The words felt surreal to even think. Three days of surgery, of recovery, of Vega preening and parading in my skin while I lay in his bed, trapped in his broken body. I shifted against silk sheets that smelled of roses and blood, trying to find a position that didn't send agony lancing through Vega's four fractured ribs—my fractured ribs now.
The bedroom door opened. Vega entered—not the Vega I'd fought, but the Vega who now wore my face and form. He'd styled my hair into his signature braid, the dark ropes hanging over one shoulder. My breasts—his breasts now—were completely exposed, moving with a bounce and weight I intimately understood but had never witnessed from this angle. His nipples, my nipples once, were hard on my former breasts and already healed into them was a matching version of Vega's serpent tattoo, coiling around his left breast.
He wore the ceremonial trousers of a matador in murrey and yellow, so tight they might have been painted on. Every curve of what had been my hips, my ass, my thighs—his now—was outlined in devastating detail. The white leggings hugged his calves, the red sash cinched his waist, and the loafers clicked softly on the marble floor. There was no shirt, no vest, no modesty whatsoever.
"How are we feeling today, my beautiful monster?" he purred in my voice, running his hands down his bare torso, fingers tracing the new tattoo. "I've been breaking in your body. The flexibility is... inspiring."
I pushed myself up on Vega's arms—my arms now—so much stronger than my own had been, but currently useless thanks to the ribs. I wore the masculine version of my Street Fighter Alpha outfit: an embroidered vest that strained across his broad shoulders, a navy unitard that did nothing to hide the evidence of my new anatomy, athletic shoes, and studded wristbands. My face was still wrapped in bandages, Napoleon's guise hiding the damage I'd inflicted.
"You're a psychopath," I rasped, his voice grating in my throat.
"I'm an artist," he corrected, striking a pose that made his—my breasts once—lift and press together. "And I've finally achieved my masterpiece. The face I was always meant to have, the body I've coveted for years. But..." He frowned, touching his bandaged visage on my body. "I still need to fix this. Your brutality marred perfection."
Despite everything, despite the pain and violation, I felt a strange heat pooling in my new groin as I watched him touch what had been my face. My old body was undeniably beautiful, even under his control. And his body... I flexed Vega's powerful thighs—my thighs now—felt the weight of different muscles, the tightness of the unitard against an erection I hadn't asked for.
His eyes—my eyes once—caught the movement. "Ah, I see my husband is adjusting. Good." He began to pace, each step deliberate, making my former hips sway. "I've been thinking, my love. About our arrangement. You gave me this gift, this perfect vessel. And I realized something." He stopped at the foot of the bed, hands on what had been my hips. "I'm in love. With you. With the fighter who broke me, who made this possible."
My breath caught. "You're insane."
"Perhaps." He smiled with my lips, then reached down and began to touch himself through the impossibly tight matador trousers. "But watch how your former body responds to the truth." One hand squeezed his breast—the weight of it filling his palm perfectly—while the other rubbed slow circles between his legs. "I've been touching myself constantly, wife. Learning every secret you kept hidden. Did you know you could get this wet?"
He turned, presenting the profile of my former body, and I watched in horrified fascination as his fingers worked faster. The trousers were so tight I could see the outline of his hand, the way the fabric pulled and strained. He was getting wet—I could smell it, that familiar scent from a foreign source, and the dark patch spreading across the murrey fabric.
"Vega, stop—" I protested, but my new voice was weak.
"Why? This is as much yours as mine now." He approached the bed, leaning over my new crotch, my former breasts—his breasts now—swaying. "Let me show you what I've learned as your wife."
His hands moved to my unitard, and before I could protest, he tore the reinforced fabric between my legs with shocking ease. Vega's cock sprang free, already hard and throbbing. I gasped at the sensation—so different, so urgent.
"Beautiful," he whispered, taking it in my former hands. "Just like the rest of your husband."
Then he leaned forward and pressed my erection between his breasts—the breasts I'd once soaped in the shower, the breasts that had fit into specific sports bras, the breasts that were now his to wield as mother to my fatherhood. The sensation was overwhelming. He squeezed them together, creating a channel of soft, yielding flesh, and began to move.
"Watch," he commanded in my voice, looking down at me with my own dark eyes—his eyes now. "Watch what you made of your wife."
He worked faster, the gold rings in his nipples glinting, his braid swinging with each motion. The pleasure built in this unfamiliar body, coiling tighter and tighter. When he lowered his mouth to the tip and took me—Vega—between my own lips—his lips now—I couldn't hold back.
The orgasm ripped through me, a different kind of explosion than any kick or punch. He swallowed, his throat working in a way I'd never felt, then released me with a satisfied smile. Vega's cock—my cock now—still twitched, half-hard and sensitive.
"There," he purred, wiping his mouth with the back of my former hand. "Now we understand each other, husband."
I was panting, each breath sending pain through Vega's ribs—my ribs now. "More," I managed, hips still twitching with aftershocks. "I want..."
"Shhh." He leaned close, my former breasts—his breasts now—pressing against the vest covering his old chest. "Your body is still healing. I had to have extensive reconstructive surgery on your face, you know. These ribs need time." He whispered in my ear, his breath hot against skin that was his but now mine: "We have all the time in the world, my love. When you're whole again, your wife will take you so much further."
He kissed the bandages covering Vega's ruined features—my ruined features now—then rose from the bed, adjusting his trousers with a satisfied smile. My body left the room with his swagger, the door clicking shut behind him.
I collapsed back against the pillows, remembering as Vega removed his breasts from my half-hard penis, the wetness left behind cooling in the air. My mind reeled with the obscene intimacy of what we'd just done. Three days in, and I was already lost, already thinking of this monster in my skin as "my wife." How many more until I didn't want to find my way back?
A reimagining of 'Palette Swap' by Team Lady Valiant & FarhadTG
The final kick landed with a sickening crack. My heel connected squarely with Vega's porcelain mask, shattering it—and the bone beneath—with a sound like splintering china. He went down hard, clutching his ruined face, blood seeping between his perfect fingers. For a moment, there was only his ragged breathing and the ringing in my ears.
Then he started to laugh.
"Beautiful... so beautiful..." he gurgled through the wreckage of his jaw, his once-perfect features now a jigsaw puzzle of gore and ceramic shards. His free hand fumbled at his belt, producing a small device I recognized from Bison's labs. "But beauty... can be transferred."
"No—!" I lunged forward, but too late. He pressed the trigger.
The world exploded in white light and static. I felt myself falling, spinning, my consciousness ripping away from my body like silk tearing. When I could see again, I was looking up at the ceiling from the floor, my perspective completely wrong. Vega's hands—my hands now—rose into view. Long-fingered and pale. I touched my face and felt bandages, surgical tape, the swollen flesh beneath.
Across from me, Vega—now wearing my body—stood staring down at itself with wide, hungry eyes. He immediately grabbed the neckline of my qipao top and tore it open, exposing the breasts I'd known my whole life as if seeing them for the first time. "Exquisite," he breathed in my voice, a sound so wrong it made my stomach turn. He cupped them, his fingers—my fingers once—squeezing the weight of them with obscene fascination.
"Three days later."
The words felt surreal to even think. Three days of surgery, of recovery, of Vega preening and parading in my skin while I lay in his bed, trapped in his broken body. I shifted against silk sheets that smelled of roses and blood, trying to find a position that didn't send agony lancing through Vega's four fractured ribs—my fractured ribs now.
The bedroom door opened. Vega entered—not the Vega I'd fought, but the Vega who now wore my face and form. He'd styled my hair into his signature braid, the dark ropes hanging over one shoulder. My breasts—his breasts now—were completely exposed, moving with a bounce and weight I intimately understood but had never witnessed from this angle. His nipples, my nipples once, were hard on my former breasts and already healed into them was a matching version of Vega's serpent tattoo, coiling around his left breast.
He wore the ceremonial trousers of a matador in murrey and yellow, so tight they might have been painted on. Every curve of what had been my hips, my ass, my thighs—his now—was outlined in devastating detail. The white leggings hugged his calves, the red sash cinched his waist, and the loafers clicked softly on the marble floor. There was no shirt, no vest, no modesty whatsoever.
"How are we feeling today, my beautiful monster?" he purred in my voice, running his hands down his bare torso, fingers tracing the new tattoo. "I've been breaking in your body. The flexibility is... inspiring."
I pushed myself up on Vega's arms—my arms now—so much stronger than my own had been, but currently useless thanks to the ribs. I wore the masculine version of my Street Fighter Alpha outfit: an embroidered vest that strained across his broad shoulders, a navy unitard that did nothing to hide the evidence of my new anatomy, athletic shoes, and studded wristbands. My face was still wrapped in bandages, Napoleon's guise hiding the damage I'd inflicted.
"You're a psychopath," I rasped, his voice grating in my throat.
"I'm an artist," he corrected, striking a pose that made his—my breasts once—lift and press together. "And I've finally achieved my masterpiece. The face I was always meant to have, the body I've coveted for years. But..." He frowned, touching his bandaged visage on my body. "I still need to fix this. Your brutality marred perfection."
Despite everything, despite the pain and violation, I felt a strange heat pooling in my new groin as I watched him touch what had been my face. My old body was undeniably beautiful, even under his control. And his body... I flexed Vega's powerful thighs—my thighs now—felt the weight of different muscles, the tightness of the unitard against an erection I hadn't asked for.
His eyes—my eyes once—caught the movement. "Ah, I see my husband is adjusting. Good." He began to pace, each step deliberate, making my former hips sway. "I've been thinking, my love. About our arrangement. You gave me this gift, this perfect vessel. And I realized something." He stopped at the foot of the bed, hands on what had been my hips. "I'm in love. With you. With the fighter who broke me, who made this possible."
My breath caught. "You're insane."
"Perhaps." He smiled with my lips, then reached down and began to touch himself through the impossibly tight matador trousers. "But watch how your former body responds to the truth." One hand squeezed his breast—the weight of it filling his palm perfectly—while the other rubbed slow circles between his legs. "I've been touching myself constantly, wife. Learning every secret you kept hidden. Did you know you could get this wet?"
He turned, presenting the profile of my former body, and I watched in horrified fascination as his fingers worked faster. The trousers were so tight I could see the outline of his hand, the way the fabric pulled and strained. He was getting wet—I could smell it, that familiar scent from a foreign source, and the dark patch spreading across the murrey fabric.
"Vega, stop—" I protested, but my new voice was weak.
"Why? This is as much yours as mine now." He approached the bed, leaning over my new crotch, my former breasts—his breasts now—swaying. "Let me show you what I've learned as your wife."
His hands moved to my unitard, and before I could protest, he tore the reinforced fabric between my legs with shocking ease. Vega's cock sprang free, already hard and throbbing. I gasped at the sensation—so different, so urgent.
"Beautiful," he whispered, taking it in my former hands. "Just like the rest of your husband."
Then he leaned forward and pressed my erection between his breasts—the breasts I'd once soaped in the shower, the breasts that had fit into specific sports bras, the breasts that were now his to wield as mother to my fatherhood. The sensation was overwhelming. He squeezed them together, creating a channel of soft, yielding flesh, and began to move.
"Watch," he commanded in my voice, looking down at me with my own dark eyes—his eyes now. "Watch what you made of your wife."
He worked faster, the gold rings in his nipples glinting, his braid swinging with each motion. The pleasure built in this unfamiliar body, coiling tighter and tighter. When he lowered his mouth to the tip and took me—Vega—between my own lips—his lips now—I couldn't hold back.
The orgasm ripped through me, a different kind of explosion than any kick or punch. He swallowed, his throat working in a way I'd never felt, then released me with a satisfied smile. Vega's cock—my cock now—still twitched, half-hard and sensitive.
"There," he purred, wiping his mouth with the back of my former hand. "Now we understand each other, husband."
I was panting, each breath sending pain through Vega's ribs—my ribs now. "More," I managed, hips still twitching with aftershocks. "I want..."
"Shhh." He leaned close, my former breasts—his breasts now—pressing against the vest covering his old chest. "Your body is still healing. I had to have extensive reconstructive surgery on your face, you know. These ribs need time." He whispered in my ear, his breath hot against skin that was his but now mine: "We have all the time in the world, my love. When you're whole again, your wife will take you so much further."
He kissed the bandages covering Vega's ruined features—my ruined features now—then rose from the bed, adjusting his trousers with a satisfied smile. My body left the room with his swagger, the door clicking shut behind him.
I collapsed back against the pillows, remembering as Vega removed his breasts from my half-hard penis, the wetness left behind cooling in the air. My mind reeled with the obscene intimacy of what we'd just done. Three days in, and I was already lost, already thinking of this monster in my skin as "my wife." How many more until I didn't want to find my way back?
body swap
+2 more
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A witch is invited to a college party and offers a special game of Beer Pong. It is a very special version of hooking up.
The silence in the room was thick enough to chew. All eyes were locked on Keisha and the impossible sight of Tai’s arms buried deep within her. Her face was a mask of pure, unadulterated fury, her body trembling not with fear, but with volcanic rage.
“Maybe I can dig it out with my other hand?” Tai offered, his voice muffled and strained from inside her.
“TAI! DON’T YOU DA—” Keisha’s command was obliterated by a guttural, choking scream as his second hand plunged in after the first, the tight ring of muscle at her entrance stretching with an audible, wet sssskkkrtch to accommodate the double intrusion. Inside, the sensation was beyond anything she could have conceived. It wasn't just a presence; it was a colonizing force. She could feel the precise shape of his fingers, the rough texture of his palms as they brushed against her most intimate internal walls, exploring, mapping her from the inside out. A hot, full pressure began to build deep in her core, a feeling of being packed, filled beyond her limits.
“Vivian,” Keisha hissed, her voice dripping with venom, every word a struggle. “There is currently a Korean man wedged shoulder deep in my anal cavity. Would you PLEASE do something about it before he explodes out through my stomach?”
Vivian’s eyes lit up with demonic glee. “Oooh, do something about it?! I thought you’d never ask!” She practically skipped behind Keisha, placing her small foot squarely on the small of Tai’s back, the only part of him still visible.
The kick wasn’t forceful, but it was decisive. With a sound like a giant cork being pulled from a bottle of thick oil, followed by a deep, resonant FWUMP, Tai’s torso was suddenly propelled inward. Keisha’s eyes shot wide, then instantly rolled back into her head, a strangled grunt the only protest she could muster as her body accepted the violation. Her glorious, sculpted ass cheeks quivered violently before clapping together with a final, wet smack, sealing Tai completely inside her. For a moment, she stood there, stunned, her body humming with the shock of the intrusion.
Then, the real transformation began.
A distinct bulge, the unmistakable outline of a man’s face, pushed against the tight, toned skin of her lower abdomen. Keisha looked down, her horror reflected in the faces of the onlookers. “Wha— what is that?” she gasped, her hands flying to the protrusion. As she touched it, the face within seemed to smile, stretching her skin grotesquely.
The rest of Tai followed in a relentless, internal avalanche. She felt him bundling into her stomach, a tangle of limbs and mass forcing her midsection to distend outward. Her flat, hard-won abs disappeared, replaced by a bloated, pregnant dome that strained her skin. Inside, it was a maelstrom. Tai, disoriented and panicked, began to thrash. His knees jerked, and Keisha’s legs buckled involuntarily. His elbows flailed, and her arms spasmed at her sides. She stumbled, a marionette with a frantic puppeteer trapped inside her, emitting a series of choked yelps and moans with every involuntary movement.
“You said you were going to help!” Keisha accused Vivian, her voice wavering as she struggled to remain upright.
Vivian just blinked. “I did help you. Is he still stuck?”
Keisha’s mental struggle was a silent scream in a dissolving prison. My body! This is MY body! she thought, a mantra of defiance. But with every thrash, Tai’s consciousness seeped into her nerves, his confusion and panic becoming her own. She felt his legs, strong and muscular, sliding into the length of her own. It was a horrifying, stretching sensation, like her bones were being remolded. Her thighs, already powerful, gained a new, thicker solidity. Her calves tightened. And then, with a final, psychic click, control of her legs was severed from her brain and handed over to his. He was in charge of moving them now.
The loss of autonomy was more terrifying than the physical invasion. She tried to command her legs to step forward, but they remained rooted. Instead, Tai, blindly seeking leverage, forced them to collapse.
She fell backward, her enormous new ass—now the seat of his consciousness—thudding onto the carpet with a jiggle that sent a shockwave through her frame. The impact seemed to energize him. Using the new-found anchor of her lower body, he began to push upward, trying to climb out of the fleshy well of her torso.
Keisha’s upper body was dragged across the floor, her back arching, her head lolling. She was a passenger, forced to feel every graze of the carpet, every powerful, uncoordinated jerk. Next, his arms slipped into hers. The feeling was one of overwhelming fullness; her biceps and forearms thickened, gaining a lean, wiry strength that was entirely his. Her hands, once her own, now felt alien, their movements his impulses.
The final assault was on her head. The bulging face in her stomach began its ascent, tunneling up through her organs, a relentless pressure moving up her diaphragm, between her lungs, pushing her breasts aside. She could feel the shape of his nose, his lips, his brow ridge moving up through her core. Her neck distended, a grotesque balloon animal version of itself as his head forced its way into the column. She arched her back, a final, desperate attempt to keep her own head above the rising tide of him, her eyes locking with Vivian’s in a final promise of vengeance.
“Remember, bitch. I WILL get you back for this.”
It was her last coherent thought. His skull pressed up against the base of her own, and with a final, full-body spasm that was entirely his doing, he merged. It was like a key turning in a lock. Her consciousness didn’t vanish; it was simply… submerged, pushed into a tiny, dark corner of her own mind. She was aware, but she was no longer in control. She could only watch, a ghost in her own machine, as her eyes—his eyes now—snapped open.
“Holy shit, was that a ride!” The voice that came from her mouth was Tai’s—his cadence, his excited pitch—but filtered through Keisha’s softer vocal cords, creating a strange, androgynous sound. He sat up, using her hands to grab a fistful of her own wispy raven hair, his amazement palpable. “Thank god I landed on this bean bag when I fell though, I’d hate to damage the goods before I got to sample them!” He chuckled, patting the generous curve of her ass beneath him.
From the corner, Danny, still lounging on the actual beanbag, piped up. “But dude, I’m on the bean bag! You didn’t land on anything bro. That’s just Keisha’s…”
A look of dawning, ecstatic comprehension spread across Keisha’s features—Tai’s expressions now. “OH SWEET MOSES!” he exclaimed, the voice a perfect blend of his shock and her tone. He scrambled to his feet—her feet—with an agility that was all his. His hands, her hands, flew to the monumental cheeks he’d just been sitting on, groping and kneading the flesh with ravenous disbelief.
The sensation was double-layered: Tai’s euphoric discovery and, buried deep within, Keisha’s mortified, screaming silence as she felt her own hands violating her in ways she never had. He shook his—their—hips, watching in a nearby reflective surface as the jiggle propagated in a wave of mesmerizing motion.
“Is this what she feels ALL THE TIME!” he whooped, his laughter echoing in the silent, stunned room. Inside, Keisha fought, a desperate mental push against a wall of overwhelming control. She tried to scream, to regain a muscle, but was pulled into Tai. She was no longer separate but now a part of Tai. Her body was no longer hers. It was now Taisha’s. And Taisha was thrilled.
The silence in the room was thick enough to chew. All eyes were locked on Keisha and the impossible sight of Tai’s arms buried deep within her. Her face was a mask of pure, unadulterated fury, her body trembling not with fear, but with volcanic rage.
“Maybe I can dig it out with my other hand?” Tai offered, his voice muffled and strained from inside her.
“TAI! DON’T YOU DA—” Keisha’s command was obliterated by a guttural, choking scream as his second hand plunged in after the first, the tight ring of muscle at her entrance stretching with an audible, wet sssskkkrtch to accommodate the double intrusion. Inside, the sensation was beyond anything she could have conceived. It wasn't just a presence; it was a colonizing force. She could feel the precise shape of his fingers, the rough texture of his palms as they brushed against her most intimate internal walls, exploring, mapping her from the inside out. A hot, full pressure began to build deep in her core, a feeling of being packed, filled beyond her limits.
“Vivian,” Keisha hissed, her voice dripping with venom, every word a struggle. “There is currently a Korean man wedged shoulder deep in my anal cavity. Would you PLEASE do something about it before he explodes out through my stomach?”
Vivian’s eyes lit up with demonic glee. “Oooh, do something about it?! I thought you’d never ask!” She practically skipped behind Keisha, placing her small foot squarely on the small of Tai’s back, the only part of him still visible.
The kick wasn’t forceful, but it was decisive. With a sound like a giant cork being pulled from a bottle of thick oil, followed by a deep, resonant FWUMP, Tai’s torso was suddenly propelled inward. Keisha’s eyes shot wide, then instantly rolled back into her head, a strangled grunt the only protest she could muster as her body accepted the violation. Her glorious, sculpted ass cheeks quivered violently before clapping together with a final, wet smack, sealing Tai completely inside her. For a moment, she stood there, stunned, her body humming with the shock of the intrusion.
Then, the real transformation began.
A distinct bulge, the unmistakable outline of a man’s face, pushed against the tight, toned skin of her lower abdomen. Keisha looked down, her horror reflected in the faces of the onlookers. “Wha— what is that?” she gasped, her hands flying to the protrusion. As she touched it, the face within seemed to smile, stretching her skin grotesquely.
The rest of Tai followed in a relentless, internal avalanche. She felt him bundling into her stomach, a tangle of limbs and mass forcing her midsection to distend outward. Her flat, hard-won abs disappeared, replaced by a bloated, pregnant dome that strained her skin. Inside, it was a maelstrom. Tai, disoriented and panicked, began to thrash. His knees jerked, and Keisha’s legs buckled involuntarily. His elbows flailed, and her arms spasmed at her sides. She stumbled, a marionette with a frantic puppeteer trapped inside her, emitting a series of choked yelps and moans with every involuntary movement.
“You said you were going to help!” Keisha accused Vivian, her voice wavering as she struggled to remain upright.
Vivian just blinked. “I did help you. Is he still stuck?”
Keisha’s mental struggle was a silent scream in a dissolving prison. My body! This is MY body! she thought, a mantra of defiance. But with every thrash, Tai’s consciousness seeped into her nerves, his confusion and panic becoming her own. She felt his legs, strong and muscular, sliding into the length of her own. It was a horrifying, stretching sensation, like her bones were being remolded. Her thighs, already powerful, gained a new, thicker solidity. Her calves tightened. And then, with a final, psychic click, control of her legs was severed from her brain and handed over to his. He was in charge of moving them now.
The loss of autonomy was more terrifying than the physical invasion. She tried to command her legs to step forward, but they remained rooted. Instead, Tai, blindly seeking leverage, forced them to collapse.
She fell backward, her enormous new ass—now the seat of his consciousness—thudding onto the carpet with a jiggle that sent a shockwave through her frame. The impact seemed to energize him. Using the new-found anchor of her lower body, he began to push upward, trying to climb out of the fleshy well of her torso.
Keisha’s upper body was dragged across the floor, her back arching, her head lolling. She was a passenger, forced to feel every graze of the carpet, every powerful, uncoordinated jerk. Next, his arms slipped into hers. The feeling was one of overwhelming fullness; her biceps and forearms thickened, gaining a lean, wiry strength that was entirely his. Her hands, once her own, now felt alien, their movements his impulses.
The final assault was on her head. The bulging face in her stomach began its ascent, tunneling up through her organs, a relentless pressure moving up her diaphragm, between her lungs, pushing her breasts aside. She could feel the shape of his nose, his lips, his brow ridge moving up through her core. Her neck distended, a grotesque balloon animal version of itself as his head forced its way into the column. She arched her back, a final, desperate attempt to keep her own head above the rising tide of him, her eyes locking with Vivian’s in a final promise of vengeance.
“Remember, bitch. I WILL get you back for this.”
It was her last coherent thought. His skull pressed up against the base of her own, and with a final, full-body spasm that was entirely his doing, he merged. It was like a key turning in a lock. Her consciousness didn’t vanish; it was simply… submerged, pushed into a tiny, dark corner of her own mind. She was aware, but she was no longer in control. She could only watch, a ghost in her own machine, as her eyes—his eyes now—snapped open.
“Holy shit, was that a ride!” The voice that came from her mouth was Tai’s—his cadence, his excited pitch—but filtered through Keisha’s softer vocal cords, creating a strange, androgynous sound. He sat up, using her hands to grab a fistful of her own wispy raven hair, his amazement palpable. “Thank god I landed on this bean bag when I fell though, I’d hate to damage the goods before I got to sample them!” He chuckled, patting the generous curve of her ass beneath him.
From the corner, Danny, still lounging on the actual beanbag, piped up. “But dude, I’m on the bean bag! You didn’t land on anything bro. That’s just Keisha’s…”
A look of dawning, ecstatic comprehension spread across Keisha’s features—Tai’s expressions now. “OH SWEET MOSES!” he exclaimed, the voice a perfect blend of his shock and her tone. He scrambled to his feet—her feet—with an agility that was all his. His hands, her hands, flew to the monumental cheeks he’d just been sitting on, groping and kneading the flesh with ravenous disbelief.
The sensation was double-layered: Tai’s euphoric discovery and, buried deep within, Keisha’s mortified, screaming silence as she felt her own hands violating her in ways she never had. He shook his—their—hips, watching in a nearby reflective surface as the jiggle propagated in a wave of mesmerizing motion.
“Is this what she feels ALL THE TIME!” he whooped, his laughter echoing in the silent, stunned room. Inside, Keisha fought, a desperate mental push against a wall of overwhelming control. She tried to scream, to regain a muscle, but was pulled into Tai. She was no longer separate but now a part of Tai. Her body was no longer hers. It was now Taisha’s. And Taisha was thrilled.
possession
+7 more
6
8.5K
1
1
Stacey and her team are chosen to fight an alien invasion
It all started during what should’ve been just another grueling practice session under the sweltering Texas sun. Sweat stung my eyes, and my muscles screamed in protest with every high kick and flip. I was Stacey Robinson, head cheerleader of the Northwood Wildcats, and we were running the pyramid sequence for what felt like the hundredth time.
That’s when the sky tore open.
Not with a crack of thunder, but with a soft, shimmering hum. A light, gentle as a sunbeam, descended, and out stepped a figure that looked less like an alien invader and more like a yoga instructor from a high-end spa. He was tall, slender, with skin that shimmered like mother-of-pearl and eyes the color of a calm sea. He introduced himself as Nagai, an emissary from a distant star.
“Stacey Robinson,” he said, his voice like a melody. “Your world is in grave, albeit peculiar, danger.”
We all just stared, too shocked to even drop our pom-poms.
He explained that an ancient cosmic ruler, a being of immense vanity and twisted ideals, was approaching Earth. Her name was Queen Adiposa, and her goal was to impose her own standard of beauty upon the universe: to make fat not just acceptable, but the only form of beauty, eradicating all others. Her method? A wave of transformative energy, preceded by an army of minions who looked… well, like unnaturally enthusiastic Planet Fitness trainers in their purple and yellow uniforms, forever chanting about “no judgement.”
“Your spirit, your power, your unity,” Nagai said, his gaze sweeping over my team—Chloe, Hannah, Zoe, Maya, and Brianna. “You six are the only ones who can stop her. You will become my champions. The Supersonic Pussy Rangers.”
We glanced at each other. The name was ridiculous. The situation was insane. But the look in Nagai’s eyes was dead serious.
A wave of his hand, and a flash of light enveloped us. I felt a surge of power, a buzzing energy that settled deep in my core. When the light faded, we were all clad in skintight suits. Mine was a vibrant, commanding red. Chloe got pink, Hannah yellow, Zoe a deep purple, and Maya a cool aqua. And then there was Brianna.
Brianna, already the bustiest of us by a mile, was… naked. But not just naked. Her suit was a shimmering, barely-there layer of light that did nothing to conceal her incredible figure. Nagai hadn’t been kidding about the name. Her breasts were so magnificently large, so breathtakingly full, they truly looked like they could swallow a person’s head whole.
“Your power will manifest when you face your enemy,” Nagai said, just as the ground shook.
Our first monster arrived. It was a hulking beast made of what looked like lumpy, pink flesh, with a single massive eye and a microphone headset. It was flanked by a dozen of those smiling, clapping Planet Fitness minions. “Let’s get this party started! No lunkheads, just gains!” one of them chirped.
We fought. It was chaos. We moved with a speed and strength we never knew we had, our colored suits leaving streaks of light in the air. We kicked and punched, our movements synchronized from years of practice, now amplified into something superhuman. We finally took the monster down with a combined energy blast.
But it wasn’t over. The fallen monster began to glow, its body reassembling and swelling, growing taller and taller until it loomed over the school, a five-story tall abomination of jiggling fat and distorted fitness enthusiasm.
“Now, Stacey!” Nagai’s voice echoed in my mind. “It is time!”
A belt of gleaming silver and red, engraved with strange symbols, appeared in his hands. He tossed it to me. I caught it, and without thinking, I slapped it around my waist. A click, a hum, and then… silence.
The world froze. The monster was a statue mid-roar. The minions were frozen in their mindless clapping. My team hovered in the air around me, their eyes glazed over, caught in Nagai’s powerful stasis.
I was lifted into the air. Chloe (Pink) and Zoe (Purple) floated toward me in a dreamlike daze. My legs, guided by an unseen force, slipped into their open mouths. I felt no resistance, only a warm, incredible pressure as my feet slid down, down, coming to rest deep within their stomachs. It was the strangest, most intimate sensation I’d ever felt.
Next, Hannah (Yellow) and Maya (Aqua) drifted over. My arms entered them, sinking into their bodies through their backsides up to just below my elbows. Their legs unwound themselves and wrapped tightly around my torso, locking into place. I could feel the muscles in their thighs tense against my sides.
Finally, Brianna—Naked—floated toward my chest. She pressed against me, her incredible softness moulding to my form. She wrapped her arms and legs around my own, locking us together, and then let her head fall forward, completely vanishing between the immense, soft pillows of her own breasts, pressed firmly against my chest.
I dropped back to the ground, the impact jolting through me. I could feel Brianna’s body on my front, her breasts bouncing with the landing. I tentatively tried to move.
I thought, step forward.
The movement came, but it wasn’t just my leg. It was Chloe’s and then Zoe’s legs moving in perfect unison with me, their bodies moving as extensions of my own. I was controlling them. I was them. I lifted my arms, and saw Hannah and Maya’s arms mirror the movement perfectly.
“This is your Megazord form,” Nagai’s voice explained, sound returning to my private bubble of time. “You are the core. You command their bodies as your own limbs. They will remember none of this. To release them, you must defeat the enemy. When it is weakened, you must yell ‘FINISHER!’.”
I practiced. A step became a mighty stomp from four powerful legs. A punch became a devastating blow from four clenched fists. The power was dizzying. I felt the distinct sensations from each of my teammates—the sleek strength of Chloe, the flexible power of Zoe, the explosive energy of Hannah, the steady grace of Maya, and the overwhelming, soft warmth of Brianna pressed against me.
“Now, Stacey,” Nagai said. “Finish it.”
Time slammed back into motion with a roar.
The giant monster swung a fist the size of a car at me. I—we—blocked it with a forearm, the impact resonating through our combined bodies. We fought, a giantess of flesh and power against a monster of fat. We were faster, stronger, unified. With a series of powerful blows, we weakened it, until it staggered, dizzy and disoriented.
Now.
I took a deep breath, the motion causing Brianna’s chest to rise and fall against mine.
“FINISHER!” I yelled, my voice echoing with the combined power of six girls.
We leaped, a phenomenal jump that carried our combined form high into the air. We twisted, aiming ourselves downward. The monster looked up, its single eye wide with confusion.
We came down on its head, not on its body.
We landed perfectly, with the soft, warm heart of our formation—Brianna—coming to rest directly over the monster’s head. It let out a muffled, gurgled roar, its head completely smothered, suffocated between the immense, world-encompassing softness of her vagina. It struggled for a moment, then fell still, beginning to dissolve into harmless pink mist.
The belt on my waist clicked. The world dissolved in another flash of light, and I was standing alone, back in my red ranger suit. My team stood around me, blinking, stretching.
“Whoa, did we do it?” Chloe asked, looking at the fading pink mist. “I blacked out for a second there. What a rush!”
They remembered nothing. But I remembered everything. The feeling of their bodies as my own. The incredible, intimate power.
And I knew, with a thrilling certainty that shot right through me, that this was only the beginning. Queen Adiposa would send more monsters. And each time, we would combine. Each time, I would feel that connection, that control.
And each time, I would make my teammates more… mine.
It all started during what should’ve been just another grueling practice session under the sweltering Texas sun. Sweat stung my eyes, and my muscles screamed in protest with every high kick and flip. I was Stacey Robinson, head cheerleader of the Northwood Wildcats, and we were running the pyramid sequence for what felt like the hundredth time.
That’s when the sky tore open.
Not with a crack of thunder, but with a soft, shimmering hum. A light, gentle as a sunbeam, descended, and out stepped a figure that looked less like an alien invader and more like a yoga instructor from a high-end spa. He was tall, slender, with skin that shimmered like mother-of-pearl and eyes the color of a calm sea. He introduced himself as Nagai, an emissary from a distant star.
“Stacey Robinson,” he said, his voice like a melody. “Your world is in grave, albeit peculiar, danger.”
We all just stared, too shocked to even drop our pom-poms.
He explained that an ancient cosmic ruler, a being of immense vanity and twisted ideals, was approaching Earth. Her name was Queen Adiposa, and her goal was to impose her own standard of beauty upon the universe: to make fat not just acceptable, but the only form of beauty, eradicating all others. Her method? A wave of transformative energy, preceded by an army of minions who looked… well, like unnaturally enthusiastic Planet Fitness trainers in their purple and yellow uniforms, forever chanting about “no judgement.”
“Your spirit, your power, your unity,” Nagai said, his gaze sweeping over my team—Chloe, Hannah, Zoe, Maya, and Brianna. “You six are the only ones who can stop her. You will become my champions. The Supersonic Pussy Rangers.”
We glanced at each other. The name was ridiculous. The situation was insane. But the look in Nagai’s eyes was dead serious.
A wave of his hand, and a flash of light enveloped us. I felt a surge of power, a buzzing energy that settled deep in my core. When the light faded, we were all clad in skintight suits. Mine was a vibrant, commanding red. Chloe got pink, Hannah yellow, Zoe a deep purple, and Maya a cool aqua. And then there was Brianna.
Brianna, already the bustiest of us by a mile, was… naked. But not just naked. Her suit was a shimmering, barely-there layer of light that did nothing to conceal her incredible figure. Nagai hadn’t been kidding about the name. Her breasts were so magnificently large, so breathtakingly full, they truly looked like they could swallow a person’s head whole.
“Your power will manifest when you face your enemy,” Nagai said, just as the ground shook.
Our first monster arrived. It was a hulking beast made of what looked like lumpy, pink flesh, with a single massive eye and a microphone headset. It was flanked by a dozen of those smiling, clapping Planet Fitness minions. “Let’s get this party started! No lunkheads, just gains!” one of them chirped.
We fought. It was chaos. We moved with a speed and strength we never knew we had, our colored suits leaving streaks of light in the air. We kicked and punched, our movements synchronized from years of practice, now amplified into something superhuman. We finally took the monster down with a combined energy blast.
But it wasn’t over. The fallen monster began to glow, its body reassembling and swelling, growing taller and taller until it loomed over the school, a five-story tall abomination of jiggling fat and distorted fitness enthusiasm.
“Now, Stacey!” Nagai’s voice echoed in my mind. “It is time!”
A belt of gleaming silver and red, engraved with strange symbols, appeared in his hands. He tossed it to me. I caught it, and without thinking, I slapped it around my waist. A click, a hum, and then… silence.
The world froze. The monster was a statue mid-roar. The minions were frozen in their mindless clapping. My team hovered in the air around me, their eyes glazed over, caught in Nagai’s powerful stasis.
I was lifted into the air. Chloe (Pink) and Zoe (Purple) floated toward me in a dreamlike daze. My legs, guided by an unseen force, slipped into their open mouths. I felt no resistance, only a warm, incredible pressure as my feet slid down, down, coming to rest deep within their stomachs. It was the strangest, most intimate sensation I’d ever felt.
Next, Hannah (Yellow) and Maya (Aqua) drifted over. My arms entered them, sinking into their bodies through their backsides up to just below my elbows. Their legs unwound themselves and wrapped tightly around my torso, locking into place. I could feel the muscles in their thighs tense against my sides.
Finally, Brianna—Naked—floated toward my chest. She pressed against me, her incredible softness moulding to my form. She wrapped her arms and legs around my own, locking us together, and then let her head fall forward, completely vanishing between the immense, soft pillows of her own breasts, pressed firmly against my chest.
I dropped back to the ground, the impact jolting through me. I could feel Brianna’s body on my front, her breasts bouncing with the landing. I tentatively tried to move.
I thought, step forward.
The movement came, but it wasn’t just my leg. It was Chloe’s and then Zoe’s legs moving in perfect unison with me, their bodies moving as extensions of my own. I was controlling them. I was them. I lifted my arms, and saw Hannah and Maya’s arms mirror the movement perfectly.
“This is your Megazord form,” Nagai’s voice explained, sound returning to my private bubble of time. “You are the core. You command their bodies as your own limbs. They will remember none of this. To release them, you must defeat the enemy. When it is weakened, you must yell ‘FINISHER!’.”
I practiced. A step became a mighty stomp from four powerful legs. A punch became a devastating blow from four clenched fists. The power was dizzying. I felt the distinct sensations from each of my teammates—the sleek strength of Chloe, the flexible power of Zoe, the explosive energy of Hannah, the steady grace of Maya, and the overwhelming, soft warmth of Brianna pressed against me.
“Now, Stacey,” Nagai said. “Finish it.”
Time slammed back into motion with a roar.
The giant monster swung a fist the size of a car at me. I—we—blocked it with a forearm, the impact resonating through our combined bodies. We fought, a giantess of flesh and power against a monster of fat. We were faster, stronger, unified. With a series of powerful blows, we weakened it, until it staggered, dizzy and disoriented.
Now.
I took a deep breath, the motion causing Brianna’s chest to rise and fall against mine.
“FINISHER!” I yelled, my voice echoing with the combined power of six girls.
We leaped, a phenomenal jump that carried our combined form high into the air. We twisted, aiming ourselves downward. The monster looked up, its single eye wide with confusion.
We came down on its head, not on its body.
We landed perfectly, with the soft, warm heart of our formation—Brianna—coming to rest directly over the monster’s head. It let out a muffled, gurgled roar, its head completely smothered, suffocated between the immense, world-encompassing softness of her vagina. It struggled for a moment, then fell still, beginning to dissolve into harmless pink mist.
The belt on my waist clicked. The world dissolved in another flash of light, and I was standing alone, back in my red ranger suit. My team stood around me, blinking, stretching.
“Whoa, did we do it?” Chloe asked, looking at the fading pink mist. “I blacked out for a second there. What a rush!”
They remembered nothing. But I remembered everything. The feeling of their bodies as my own. The incredible, intimate power.
And I knew, with a thrilling certainty that shot right through me, that this was only the beginning. Queen Adiposa would send more monsters. And each time, we would combine. Each time, I would feel that connection, that control.
And each time, I would make my teammates more… mine.
mind control
+8 more
17
15.8K
1
0
In Cambiada, a bullied boy got possession of a small mirror with the promise that will make him "get out of his own head". He plan to use it to change his life and possible get revenge on his bully.
"Huff... Puff..."
Donnie heaved as the used his hand to balance against the wall. Leo has once again waited for him after school, and not wanting to be somethed to the normal abuse of his opressor, he tried to run.
Miracously, against all odds, this time he had lost his persecutor, but has left him without air and sweating profusedly, his bad atlethic state being the biggest reason behind it.
"Where... am I?" Donnie had run without caring where he was going, running across streets and alleyways. As he looked around, he had finished in front of a small antiquity store, the old sign indicated that he was in front of "Delphi's", whatever it was. From outside he could seen books, drawers and dolls, mirrors and jewelry, a collection of different object that only had one thing in common - they were noticible old.
"When in rome..." the scawny boy would any other day of the week have come as the typical nerd fan of video games and anime, but close friend of his knew that he also had the odd eccentric streak, having a collection of sort obtained principally through the internet or antiquary store whenever he was traveling with his family.
Little light passed through the dirty windows, most of the light came from an old candelabrum that together with the heavy smell of rich incense, gave everything around a rusty feel. Walking by, different shelves were stacked by aged, leather-bound books and the different tables displayed eerie looking items which would not be out of place at a Halloween store.
"Can I help you baby?", Donnie jumped a bit at the old, slightly cracking female voice to see Delphi Grey. She was an old woman, dressed like an eccentric but with a wise face.
"Umm..." did he needed help? His life had more downs than ups. Constant bullying and being compared to her head cheerleader of a sister had brought stress that had accumulated until the point that at any moment he would explode, but in a way that he wasn't sure how. "Um... Yeah", Donnie finally replied, a bit embarrassed,"I was just looking for something that can offer a change of perspective".
"Oh?", Delphi asked,"In what way?". Through the heavy lenses of her, Donnie felt as if she could read his soul.
"Well.... My mom's never home and seems to be stressed all the time", Donnie began in a tirade, "My sister's too into herself and needs to consider others. I am constantly picked up in school... I-I just need to get out of my own head!", Donnie couldn't believe he had divulged all of this to the woman. For some reason, it just poured from him.
"Ah!", Delphi nodded, "I think I have just the thing for you".
The old woman disappeared behind the counter, a heavy curtain blocked the sight of her. Not one minute later she returned with a strange and old hand mirror.
The object was made of a black material with angular definitions all around the handle, the surface seemed to consist on a piece of metal fixed to the structure - the reflection that it gave wasn't clear, nothing like an actual mirror finish, and it made Donnie think of a slice of metal.
"...This is the Dionisan Mirror... in reality nobody knows if that was the original name or something that came to be..." Delphi said when she put the mirror on the counter. On a closer inspection on the frame of the mirror were different inscriptions made in some kind of language that Donnie couldn't recognize. Taking the mirror in his hands, it felt as if it was made from wood. The surface reflected, albeit with difficulties, the scrutinizing gaze of Donnie.
"But... but how is this going to help me?"
"Full left turn to capture the visage... the knob will not turn left any more meanwhile there is a visage inside... Full right turn to release the visage" the gypsy said as she indicated a knob at the bottom down of the handle which had passed unnoticed to Donnie. In closer inspection a fine line created a knob at the bottom of the handle. "Follow the inscription with a finger, from left to right to change appearance with the visage..." she finalized indicating the inscription and the motion to follow.
"I don't understand..."
"You want to get out from your mind. Experimenting a different visage can help you to change your perspectives..." she said as a matter of fact, in a weird trance like voice, was she on drugs?
Some seconds passed between the both of them, Donnie trying to make sense of what Delphi was saying - the stuff with the visage for a start - and Delphi observing the reaction of Donnie; Both of them immobile meanwhile this confrontation happened.
Some more seconds, Delphi becoming exasperated until she finally said, "It's 50 bucks please" returning to her normal tone of voice, the one that she has been using was clearly part of a performance.
"What!? I don't have that money... First of all I still don't know what this does!"
"Ok, ok, let's do this. You can keep it and if it changes your life, you come here and pay me the 50 bucks that I asked, otherwise you give me back the mirror, deal?"
What possibly could a mirror do for him? Donnie was sure that a mirror wouldn't change his life, and the gypsy has been acting strange. Something was telling him that the mirror didn't cost that quantity of money, but Donnie didn't have anything to lose.
"Deal..."
And with that Donnie was out of the store, with a strange looking mirror that supposedly would change his life, "How the fuck should I use this..." Even if the mirror was intended for self exploration - looking at oneself in it - it made a horrible job. At most, he could see his very distorted form and inquisitive gaze.
The walk towards home was filled with these thoughts, the only conclusion that he arrived would be to wait a week and then give it back. Even like that, Donnie was sure that even if he didn't give it back it wouldn't matter, probably the woman wouldn't miss this mirror as she simply gave it away in order to get rid of trash.
---
"Donnie! What is this?" his sister Bella asked once she saw the mirror that Donnie had left on the table of the living room when he arrived back home.
He was preparing himself a sandwich in the kitchen so he answer her back shouting, without looking at what she was doing "A kind of a prop... a gypsy lady give it to me, saying that it's something that can change my life..."
"Yeah, right... If this is a mirror, it's a shitty one... And how should you use it?"
"She said something about rotating the knob at the bottom of the handle to the left." he awaited further questions but they didn't come. Instead the sound of something falling to the floor was heard short after. "Bella?"
Donnie went back to the living room. It was empty and at the feet of the table was the mirror, apparently it has fell when Gabriella left it back from where she took it.
Doonie picked it, but he threw it when he gazed upon his reflection.
"What the-" Picking it up again, there was no more the diffused reflection that was characteristic from the mirror, it has corrected itself and now the strange surface gave a clear image of everything that was reflected in it.
But instead of seeing his face looking back at him, this time was the face of his sister, mimicking each and every one of his movements and expressions, which in these moments was only one;
Fright.
"Bella... Bella! Can you hear me!?" Donnie's sister was moving her mouth in the mirror, but he couldn't hear anything. The look of apprehension on Gabriella's face was agitating Donnie second by second, to the point that Donnie was fearing a panic attack. "Oh God! Bella I will help you!"
Without waiting for an answer Donnie ran to his room, surely there would be something on the internet? If this was real - and if magic was real - the implications were only adding to the list of problem in Donnie's mind. He hoped that all of this was a dream... but everything pointed that in this case, in the best of cases, it was a nightmare.
"Oh god, oh god, oh god...." the room was as he had left it this morning, bedsheets disordered and put together at the end of the bed and on the seat that he used for his computer there were all the clothes yet to be cleaned. The large mirror at the front of his wardrobe reflecting each and every move that Donnie was making, from his frantic movement to his desperate expression. Taking the hand mirror to his eyes height he shouted "Don't worry Bella! I will take you out from there, I just need to-"
Something was off... from his position, he was facing his wardrobe mirror that reflected his full body, and in his hand at around his face height, he has her sister face... Something about the expression of both his and Bella was bugging him out. Slowly, he approached the big mirror and put the small mirror side by side always at his face height. Donnie and Bella expression were the same, differing only in looks alone.
Bringing the free hand to his face, Donnie watched not only as his reflection made the same, but the Bella's one imitate him as if it was his reflection, "Bella...? Can you hear...me?" Bella in the mirror moved her mouth not as if asking for help, but as a reflection of him being Bella. From his face to his hair to his body, Bella imitated every each of his moves. "If this is real, then..." as a final test, he started rising his t-shirt, but meanwhile the image in the little mirror showed the movement of her hand, it wasn't able to move the clothes compared to Donnie.
"Fuck me..."
It was certain that Bella was trapped in the mirror, and that now the mirror reflected him as Bella, but was she aware of what was happening outside the mirror? was she conscious that her brother was making her move in any way that he liked and that he could see her as he would like just by moving the mirror in certain ways... better not go there, she is my sister, Donnie though, still looking at Bella reflection.
"What was what that gypsy was saying.... Full turn left to absorb?" trying to turn the knob to the left, it was locked as she said it would be - meanwhile a visage was inside - "Follow the inscription to change..." he said looking at the runes by the frame, he started touching them but stopped himself when he was at the zenith - wouldn't like to cause an unnecessary transformation - "And full turn right to liberate!" he said at the same time that he did the motion that he had been told to do.
Instantly, as if being sucked out from the mirror, Gabriella body was thrown out from the direction that the mirror was facing, him. The unexpected release together with the weight of Gabriella body made Donnie fell to the floor, with Bella on top of him.
Fortunately she was asleep.
"Bella! Bella, oh my god you are free!" he shouted taking her sister by her shoulder after he was freed of her weight. Gabriella was sleeping normally, dreaming even. "Bella, wake up, please!" What if she couldn't wake up? Because of this fear, he started shaking her from the shoulder, increasing his force until finally, she started moving, She is alive!. Gabriella started to wake up, and after frowning and looking at every side - as disoriented - she looked directly at Donnie.
_What if she remembers everything? What should I tell her? What-_
"What I'm doing in your room, Donnie?" the voice of Bella was very slow, similar to the one that she use at mornings after just waken up, "I was in the living room... and then" she looked lost for words.
"Youstartedtofellasleep... and when I came back to my room, you were sleeping in my bed..."
"Really?... I guess..." and with that she stood up and left, still with a disoriented look.
Donnie remained fixed in his position. What have just happen? The mirror was magical and it was not a prop? I will have to pay 50 dollars!? What more can I do? Can I become anyone? Magic was real? All kind of though started floating in Donnie's mind, the possibilities and implications of his new mirror left him overwhelmed.
The only thing certain for now was that whatever happened meanwhile a person was inside the mirror, they wouldn't remember.
...But this only brought more questions to mind, interrogatives that Donnie needed to figure out before having a plan of action in how to use the mirror.
---
In his room, Donnie was walking left and right, periodically looking towards the mirror resting in the desk, and then again to repeat this routine. He had done this thing for at least one hour now as he thought about the implication of what he could do it, how he could do it, and the fact that magic was real. He had looked online, on the web and in weird forum were people fantasized about being other people.
Donnie had never thought of it, about being other one apart from himself - yes, he wanted to not be a nerd, to be popular with the girls and had thought of how it would be to be another person, but have never entertained the idea. Now instead, given the possibility, it was as if the mirror was whispering to him, to abuse it.
_But... but..._
He had lost time reading different stories and anecdotes, captions and role plays - the fetish unkown to him was more big than he had though.
_What would they do it with this?_
He had wanted to get out from his head, and with the mirror, he could go in another head.
"Donnie, dinner is ready!" from outside his door the voice of his sister had startled him, doing a little jump. The tradition of eating in family was specially more strict now than ever since the divorce of her mom.
Going down and being seated with them, talking about the day and about news Donnie couldn't help for his sight to wander in the bodies of the two people, two females closest to him. His sister with the golden locks and pearl white smile, popular and charismatic with a lot of friends, he didn't want to think about it but her body in perfect condition because of all of the training as cheerleader left her as a prime subject. Just thinking about how earlier in the day he had seen her reflection in the mirror was making him hard... If he had just completed the inscription... But it was wrong...
"Donnie, are you listening?"
"Yes, it's wrong!" a pause and rubor, he cleared his voice, "sorry, what were you saying?"
"I swear, I worked all the day for you and your sister and..." his mother continue with the tirade of a forty something female consumed by divorce and work. His father had always said that your mother was a workaholic, and he couldn't not agree with it. As she talked, Donnie noticed that she released an aura that commanded other to respect her, to listen to her, to follow her, all the qualities that he wished he had.
His sister would become suspicios if she become asleep for the second time in the day without her consciense, so it was later in night when her mother was entering the bathroom to wash herself that Donnie decided to act. Hiding in the corner, his positioned the mirror so her mother would be right in the middle in the moment that she would open the bathroom door. As he heard the knob turnin, Donnie turned left the knob of the mirror. He remained like that, petrified in the spot as he tried to hear for any hint that his mother was still there, the door closing, some steps, anything.
As he slowly turned the mirror towards him, in it the reflection of his mother could be seen. A crazy smile appeared at this moment as Donnie run towards the bathroom and closed it behind him.
"Yes!" The mirror could be used from away, as long as a person was in the reflection. Just this fact alone justified what he had done, and now it was time to reapt the benefits. Turned towards him, his mother face in the reflection of the mirro, with a slow motion he passed hid index finger over the weird runes of the mirror, until he was back wher he started. It felt as if a fuzzy fog was created within him and the mirror - his image being exchanged with his mother - but it only lasted a moment, and this time in the reflection was his face.
"Did it-" he had to stop, his voice sounding feminine and mature. The hand that held the mirror seemed more delicate and thin, but also older given the wrinkles that could be seen from near. He walked towards the mirror, feeling how his new hips rocket left and right. In it, it wasn't his reflection that he had become accustomed to see, but his mother. Green eyes, short hair, same pearl like teeth as your sister. He could feel her tight clothes, the pain in the bones, the constricted the feeling of her bra and how a piece of cloth was alodged firmly in his mother crack. "I did it!"
In front of the mirror, Donnie frenetically tried to disrobe all of her clothes, having particular problems with the black bra now in his possession. The naked body of his mother, taut and slender didn't seem to be of a forty something woman - she took great care of her body, eating healthy and regularly going to the gym - but the pains on the joints gave away her true age.
"Soooo... I was about to take a shower..."
---
The shower was a long one, Donnie relished in all the feeling that his mother's body could provide him - the temperature at wich point he normally take showers wasn't enough, increasing the heat until copius amount of vapor was generated. His new nipples were sensitive, a current passing through his body every time he cleaned them with the loofah and it wasn't long before her new long and delicate fingers were probing his inside.
His exploration was cut short when his sister asked if everything was alright, given that he had forgotten himself with the exploration and time has fly by. But now inside her mother's bedroom, he had white card to continue his exploration, starting with a full on show of her wardrobe.
Dresses, pants, shirts and lots of underwear, wearing the items of cloth in different combination, in different angles, trying the cat walk that women often used - all meanwhile he used her cellphone to save this experience in video.
But the strong dish of the night was the modeling of the underwear and lingerie that his mother had. From the old fashioned pair that he though his mother usually used to the more daring ones, the type that by only holding in his hands was enough to bring rubor to his face, the kind that he had never expected his mother to have - which only make it better when he put it on and masturbated with it still on, over his new vagina.
"This. Is. The. Life." Donnie said between panting, after having another rocking orgasm. The pristine woman that was his mother was no more, replaced by a sexually hungry deviant, "If only she had... stuffs..." for more that he searched, he couldn't find any sexual toy - his mother seemingly more interested in work that in her own life (maybe the reason why she divorced his dad after an apparent affair with a younger woman).
Regaining his breath as his eyes closed in the dimly lit room, he gently caressed the black mirror. In the reflection his own body was smiling with the biggest smile since starting the last school year - gone were the stress of his life, replaced only by the now, the pleasure of his current body.
"Tomorrow will be great..." he thought in loud voice as he slowly fell asleep, his mind drifting with all the possibilities that he could do at the school the next day.
---
Highschool, the place were boys and girls at the doors of adulthood go in order to learn about the different topics that society consider as basic, learn the stablished social norms who rule society and make memories of the better years of one youth. At least this was what most adults would say, the chorus that many have sung so many times that it was a rule, an expectations - but adults forget in most cases that many times inside a high school, were hormones are in an all time high, the relationship of persons were more akin to the jungle, were the strongest (or popular) reign free to do what they liked.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..."
Everything will be alright, boys will be boys, it helps to form character. This and so many other phrases has been told to Donnie, specially by the guidance counselor Charlotte Smith every time that he had went for help, falling in deaf ear. Even with the sign of abuse as bruises or wet clothes, it didn't matter that the bullying continued to escalated, she still didn't do anything.
"Fat-ass, stop running!"
Donnie didn't want to ask for help of his mother - not only it would be lame - she was always so busy that he doubted that she would be interested in helping. Worse of it, his perpetrator was the little brother of his sister's boyfriend, and Donnie didn't want to win the animosity of her in case his mother did something.
"_Huff... Puff..._"
"You thought you could ran from us? This will be worse than if you haven't ran..."
After a good night of sleep, Donnie had woken still in his mother body. The recolection of what he had done hit him in the face - a depravity never seen before from his side. He turned back to himself, leaving her mother in the same position that he had been - well rested and still on lingerie. The breakfast had been the most uncomfortable thing of that morning, Donnie being unable to look at her mother's face, and she was humming as she prepared everything in a hurry.
Donnie was lost in his mind thinking about how to test the mirror, which was currently secured inside his bag, when he collided with the jocks just outside from the changing rooms. Worse of all, he had have a full on frontal crash with his bully, and instead of saying sorry as one would have expected, his first instinct was to run - this as a learnt habit - which probably was for the worst, not only because it would make them angry, but because his physical state wasn't one capable of outrunning them.
Fortunately the torture didn't last long because as soon as the bell sound started playing the group stormed off. Still, for Donnie it would mean to arrive late to class, first because he couldn't walk from the exhaustion and pain inflicted, and then because of the disaster that they had done with his stuff, taking them out from inside his bag and spreading them, a common tactic that they used.
---
"I think you should go to the Principal... maybe he can do something? Maybe he could fire the counselor?"
"I wouldn't bet on it, there are rumors that he is having as affair with her."
"But Donnie doesn't lose anything by asking!"
"I will think about it..."
In the lunchtime it was time to cry and pass the sorrows with his small group of friends; the one most understanding of his situation - given that he also was an usual victim of Leo - was Mateo - or Matt as he liked to be called - Donnie's childhood friend that has been a constant in both of their life. Son of a single mother, he was picked in school because of his Latin heritage, and together with Donnie - with was picked because of his weight - formed the group of the outcast. This soon became a real friendship, and the rest was history.
The other part of his group that completed the trio - or more like a duet with an unofficial member - was Yui Watanabe, the middle child of the Watanabe's family. Originally an outcast - this time not because of the race, but because of how she spoke English and her short hair that made her look more as a boy. This lasted during all of middle school until she started to develop as a woman - she was a late bloomer. After this, and with a renew confidence she became more outgoing and friendly (and popular), having a bigger social circle that the both of them together. In any case, the time passed together during middle school, created the kind of connection that was difficult to lose, and even now the group of friends still could find activities that all of them enjoyed, being one of them anime, with Yui in particular expressing interest in cosplaying, where in her words, she could pretend to be another person, outside of her tomboy persona.
"Seems like he woke up in a bad mood today... this could be one of the worst beating he had give you"
"Goddammit Yui, are you trying to help or what?"
"What? I'm trying to help! I'm trying to give good advice instead of the self comforting stuff that you are sprouting!" Yui started a shouting match with Matt, something rare but that had become more common since she started expanding her social circle.
"You don't understand anything!"
"Oh! I don't understand anything? Please tell me who was an outcast with the both of you until just some years ago!" Yui said as she put her hands by the hips, "Unlike you, I took control of my life. I fought for it"
"Guys..."
"It's not the same you are a woman! You don't understand what it is for men like us!"
"Oh? Now it is the misogynistic argument. For your information, girls can be more callous that men, they play with your mind, they don't care about inflicting physical pain" the voice of Yui started breaking, with some tears starting to appear in her eyes, with a body language that showed she was offended. "Fuck you Matt, I though you were better than this, you can't accept that you don't want to-"
"GUYS!" Donnie interrupted them, trying to project his voice the louder possible. "This is not like us, don't fight for something like this... I-"
"No Donnie, you don't understand...." from one of her big, black eyes a little tear appeared, "Until you do something for yourself, this will continue to escalate, and neither me, Matt, the principal or even your mother will be able to do anything." She stopped to clean her face with some wiping paper, her mascara destroyed in the process "Sorry Donnie, I can't do this anymore..." and she went away, leaving both guys stunned.
"Fuck!" Matt exploded, trying to hit an invisible can "fuck, fuck, FUCK!"
Silenced arrived between the both of them. A long, uncomfortable silence.
"Don't worry, I will not abandon you" Matt whispered after some minutes.
But in Donnie's mind, the words of Yui were still present. 'Until you do something for yourself' were the words of his friend. He knew that in her own way, she was trying to help him. Maybe Donnie couldn't stand up to Leo in the physical sense, but now with the mirror, he finally could do something about it himself.
"Yui is right, I will do something about it myself" Donnie finally said, as he started searching inside his bag for the mirror.
"What are you searching for?" Matt said looking at what Donnie was doing.
"For the solution to our problems!" and so, Donnie went to search on his bag.
A minute passed, another one and then another, Donnie couldn't find the magic mirror for much he searched on his bag. He had no doubts that he had left it there this morning, secured between the history book and the biology-
"So what it is that you are searching for...?"
"A mirror, my mirror!" Donnie shouted as he turned towards Matt, "My magic mirror that I was going to use against Leo!" he finished, looking squarely at Matt.
An uncomfortable silence descended between both of them, until Matt broke the silence, "Magical? Magical as..."
"Yes! Magical! Magical as a bag of holding or an invisibility ring... what it is that you don't understand?"
"...uhmm, everything?"
Donnie in his exalted state hasn't considered that Matt had yet to know about the existence of the magical mirror. The thought of losing the mirror has short-circuited any rational thought and only now he had caught on this. "I bought a magical mirror to an old lady..." he started as Donnie told the story of how the mirror that had been sold to him could trap one image - a visage - in the mirror, and how it could be used to replace someone else's body - leaving the part where he had enjoyed his mother's visage - and now it was the perfect time to enact vengeance on Leo, but he couldn't find it.
"Let's say I believe you... which I still don't... why you didn't test all of this before..." and as an intruding though flashed illuminated his face, he added "Heck! You could have became your own sister!"
"I was afraid! Ok? I didn't want to test it alone, I wanted to show it to you.... but I forgot..."
Silence again returned between the both of them. During this time, the bell indicating the return to the second half of classes sung.
"Look, I will help you find the mirror after classes... Maybe someone found it and left it in the lost and found!"
"I hope..."
The day hadn't started in the best way for Donnie - it was up there as one of the worst - but he hoped that it would become better.
But as they were returning - with Donnie continuing ensuring his friends that the mirror was real and about all of the things they could do with the mirror, and all the different use case that Donnie had thought since yesterday - Donnie failed to notice the messages that Yui had sent to his phone...
'Im sorry'
'didnt meant wat I said'
'Ill try to do something...'
---
"Shit! It is not here either!"
"Let's go, maybe you dreamed all of it?"
"No... definitely not..."
Both Donnie and Matt had gone towards the lost and found once all the classes had ended, but once that they controlled that it wasn't there, at the insistence of Donnie, they started searching for the mirror all around the school, even in places that Donnie haven't been during the day. Right now, in the stalls of the bathroom, they have been searching for more than one hour and they still haven't had luck.
Right now, Donnie was doubting if what he lived yesterday was real, if it was only part of his imagination that his mind had crafted in order to scape reality. But no... all the proof indicated that he hadn't hallucinated... that, or he had started to suffer schizophrenia, or a severe case of gender disphoria.
"C'mon man, are you sure that it was in your bag... maybe you left it in your house..." could it be? If that was the case....
"Yeah, I think you're right..." If he couldn't do anything anymore he didn't need to cry over spilled water. "Anyway, have you seen Yui?"
"Didn't you had classes with her?"
"Yeah, but she didn't show up" After you have arrived at classes, you have seen her messages. But even after assuring her that she was right and that she shouldn't have to worry, she hadn't answered. 'What if Leo did something to her?' was the preoccupation in his mind, but internally he knew that he wouldn't touch a woman.
"Weird... anyway, if you see her, tell her I'm sorry... I have to go, my mother will start to worry if I don't arrive on time."
"Ok, sure... talk to you later"
"Later!"
Yeah, if Donnie couldn't do anything, maybe it was better to return home, look at some anime and later play some League of Legends with Matt, this would maintain his mind far away from the problem... but first he had to go towards the Watanabe's, to see if everything was fine with his friend.
He hadn't taken two step towards his bicycle when a series of text started arriving. They were from Yui, but something was off about them...
'Loseeer'
'Fatass'
'Little bitch'
'Yui! Everything fine???'
In an uncharacteristic show of character, his friend had started insulting Donnie. Fearing the worst, Donnie called her - it was quicker than waiting for her to answer. The call ended without accepting the call, so he tried two times, three times... It was only when he had started to give up that someone answered.
"Yui! is every-"
"Aaaaaah"
His voice had been interrupted from what he could only describe as a moan, the kind that he have heard before in porn. The long moan didn't stop, instead it continued in a series of smaller ones. What preoccupied Donnie the most was the fact that from the other line he could make the voices of men, but they were far away from the cellphone so he couldn't understand what they were saying.
"Yui, YUI! What the Fuck!?"
"Hey Fatass...." the voice that finally answered him from the other side was without a doubt Leo. In what context would Yui be doing what you feared in the presence of Leo? Was this referred to the fact that she would do something? Would she sacrifice her purity for you?
"Leo you motherfucker, if you do anything to Yui I-"
"What!? You will fight me?" Laughs came from the other side, apparently whatever you said was being broadcaster to an audience that you didn't want to know. "Listen, Yui here is taking your place, aren't you happy? Or maybe, you would prefer to be in her position"
"Bullshit! Yui would never do something like that!"
"Here..." you heard Leo passing the cellphone to another person, but within a second you knew who would answer from the other side, as the proximity of the moans increased.
"Hey bitch..." a sensual voice could be heard coming from Yui.
"Yui! You don't need to do anything, I-I-"
"Heck no! You will not do anything because this is the best thing ever! I'm so fucking tigh!"
"Yui..."
"I'm enjoying myself... you should also do it... almost-" This time a cry was heard right next to Donnie's ear, the orgasm of his friend was loud enough that anyone that would have been near him could have heard it. From a silence that seemed to last an eternity, a weak "here... take some photos" was heard.
"Fatass, don't cry, I will sent you a gift so you can masturbate with the little dick of yours... Yui will be enjoying us" Leo said as he finished the call.
"Wait! Yui!" but it was too late, the call had ended unilaterally, and no matter how many times Donnie tried to call back, it didn't matter, someone had turned off her cellphone.
Some minutes passed and as he was despairing, some message started arriving to Donnie's cellphone from an unknown number. "What the fuck!" was the only thing that Donnie could mutter as he observed the naked body of his friend. The different images showed your friend from different angles and with different expressions. The first ones seemed to be from just after the call, as she rested on her back with a satisfied expression, letting for all the world to see her nether region and the big breast that she normally hide on her hoodie.
But then they turned to her playing with her breast and vagina, sucking her own nipples as she fingered her clit, every image being raunchier than the one before it. The last thing sent was a video, in which after pressing play - against Donnie's better judgement - it showed his friend sucking and tit fucking a dick, filmed in first person. In the back Donnie could make the image of different members of the football team with someone saying "that's so gay...".
Enrapture with the photos, he noticed only now that he have an erection - When was that he had gained one? Before or after the photos? With the first moan or with her orgasm?
"Shit..." Without being able to do anything, he returned back home, trying to hide the erection in the way back.
---
Filthy. Bad Friend. Traitor. Conflicting emotions were appearing in Donnie's head as he masturbated to the image of Yui in his cellphone. The emotion that he had always maintained under control - lust for his female friend - has currently gone out of control. From her naked body, to her bigger than expected boobs, and finally her vagina including the tunnel that shouldn't be looked at, the taboo of the situation made this situation worse for the heart of Donnie.
"Yui... Why? Why them?" truth be told, since he received that call and the following messages with the photos, his mind has been in disarray. He had always expected that the little crush that he have towards his friends would become true, even if he didn't act on it because he didn't want to jeopardize the situation. So when not only had the opportunity to ogle at her, but also when she was doing God knows what with his bully and his friends - the maximum betrayal - Donnie's mind did short circuit.
With a hand on his cellphone as he examined the patch of pubic hair of her friend, and the other doing the pumping motion on his dick, Donnie ejaculated all over his cellphone, not the first one of the day. He had been doing this since he returned from school, he hadn't been able to focus his mind in other tasks.
"Donnie! Time to eat" only when finally the voice of his mother called him for dinner, he noticed how much time have passed, already dark outside, before going downstairs he looked towards the Watanabe's house, just across the yard, and directly towards Yui's bedroom - the curtains on the opposed windows were hiding the dimly lit room.
"Yui..." a whisper escaped his mouth.
Going downstairs, he wondered if he could have done something different, if he could have prevented this, in any form. Looking at his sister and mother putting the table side by side, he wondered if the relationship between his group of friends would return to normal.
"Something happened Donnie? You are pale...."
"N-Nothing.... A ltittle bit stressed..."
Seated across his sister, he wondered, what if he never brought the mirror to the school, only using it at home, far away from his bully only within his group of friends, learning little by little the limitations...
"The mirror!" Donnie jumped from his seat, startling both his mother and sister. How could have he forgotten!? Leo and his group of friends had taken stuff out of his bag and must have got the mirror back then. "Fuck!"
"Donnie! Words!" his mother quickly reprimanded him, but that didn't matter, now he knew what he had to do.
"I have to go, mom!"
"No you don't, now sit back and-"
But he didn't care, standing up and running outside towards his neighbor's house, the Watanabe's, was more important than a week without internet - or whatever punishment his mother would give him.
Arriving to their house and ringing the bell, just now intrusive thoughts have started entering his mind, What I'm going to say? What if they are eating? What is- but without making him wait, Yui's mom, Esther Watanabe opened the door. An ever present smile was in her face. The petit woman was wearing a Japanese type dress that covered her whole body.
"Hi Donni! So long since I have seen you! Is everything alright?"
"Hi Ms. Watanabe... Is Yui home?" you didn't want to lose time answering her, already knowing the answer. Knowing if your friend was alright was more important than giving a good impression.
"Yes, she's in her room... Why?"
"Something from the school... Can I see her?"
"Sure?" She answered you as she stepped aside. He didn't make himself wait, taking quickly his shoes off - a tradition in the Watanabes's house. He runned from the entrance to the second floor and right outside Yui's bedroom, he tried to enter but the door was closed.
"Occupied!" came Yui's voice from inside.
"Yui! open! is me! Donnie!" he shouted, he didn't care if every other person in the house could hear him. Not two seconds passed and the door opened a little bit as he was yanked inside the bedroom, feeling to the floor in the dimly illuminated space, a musky smell permeating all the interior. "Yui, are you-" fine is what he wanted to ask, but as it turned out, he could see that that Yui wasn't his Yui.
His friends had a bemusing smile, looking in his direction, as if proving for a reaction. Donnie didn't care so much about this, as his friend body was wearing only a thong, her bare tits with her nipples looking right back at him. In her current naked state, he appreciated Yui's body as never before - the marked abdominal from her torso, the toned legs that rose until her big hips, her vagina hidden behind a black piece of cloth. A flushed face, perspiration covering her body, the pheromones in the room and the copious amount of clothes scattered around was enough to make him know what Yui - or the person wearing her visage - was doing.
"How-"
"Your Chinese friend has a rocking body, I will not lie" Yui interrupted him before he could finish his sentence "The amount of times that I have came in this body... God! Just thinking about it makes me wet" Yui finished as she stroked her pussy over the thong.
"Don't do that to her!"
"Or what!?" she changed her tone, to a more intimidating one, approaching you little by little, "Is the fat ass going to stop me from touching myself?"
"Give her body back-"
"mmmm... What would happen if I shout "rape"?" This made Donnie stop, feeling a cold shiver running down his spine. One word and his life would be over.
Cold in his feet, Donnie could only mutter a small "D-Don't do it..." almost imperceptible for anyone but him and Yui.
"Yeah, that's what I though." The person in Yui's body turned to the bed, resting her back in one of the many cushions that were there, and spreading her legs at the same time that moved her little thong to the side "Now lick, I have heard that it is awesome".
The smell increased from one moment to the other. Being face to face with the wet hair of her pubic zone was something that he have never dreamt of, even when you resorted to her during some of your masturbating session. He could hear a small ti.... coming from the back of your head as the thumbing on your chest resonate in all of your body. Feeling light weighted, Donnie did one fake step after which he found himself on the floor, with Yui looking down on him, displease present on her face.
"What a bitch..."
His vision now blurry only let him see that Yui had stood up before everything went to dark. In this final moments he could only mutter "Yui..." before Donnie lost consciousness.
"Huff... Puff..."
Donnie heaved as the used his hand to balance against the wall. Leo has once again waited for him after school, and not wanting to be somethed to the normal abuse of his opressor, he tried to run.
Miracously, against all odds, this time he had lost his persecutor, but has left him without air and sweating profusedly, his bad atlethic state being the biggest reason behind it.
"Where... am I?" Donnie had run without caring where he was going, running across streets and alleyways. As he looked around, he had finished in front of a small antiquity store, the old sign indicated that he was in front of "Delphi's", whatever it was. From outside he could seen books, drawers and dolls, mirrors and jewelry, a collection of different object that only had one thing in common - they were noticible old.
"When in rome..." the scawny boy would any other day of the week have come as the typical nerd fan of video games and anime, but close friend of his knew that he also had the odd eccentric streak, having a collection of sort obtained principally through the internet or antiquary store whenever he was traveling with his family.
Little light passed through the dirty windows, most of the light came from an old candelabrum that together with the heavy smell of rich incense, gave everything around a rusty feel. Walking by, different shelves were stacked by aged, leather-bound books and the different tables displayed eerie looking items which would not be out of place at a Halloween store.
"Can I help you baby?", Donnie jumped a bit at the old, slightly cracking female voice to see Delphi Grey. She was an old woman, dressed like an eccentric but with a wise face.
"Umm..." did he needed help? His life had more downs than ups. Constant bullying and being compared to her head cheerleader of a sister had brought stress that had accumulated until the point that at any moment he would explode, but in a way that he wasn't sure how. "Um... Yeah", Donnie finally replied, a bit embarrassed,"I was just looking for something that can offer a change of perspective".
"Oh?", Delphi asked,"In what way?". Through the heavy lenses of her, Donnie felt as if she could read his soul.
"Well.... My mom's never home and seems to be stressed all the time", Donnie began in a tirade, "My sister's too into herself and needs to consider others. I am constantly picked up in school... I-I just need to get out of my own head!", Donnie couldn't believe he had divulged all of this to the woman. For some reason, it just poured from him.
"Ah!", Delphi nodded, "I think I have just the thing for you".
The old woman disappeared behind the counter, a heavy curtain blocked the sight of her. Not one minute later she returned with a strange and old hand mirror.
The object was made of a black material with angular definitions all around the handle, the surface seemed to consist on a piece of metal fixed to the structure - the reflection that it gave wasn't clear, nothing like an actual mirror finish, and it made Donnie think of a slice of metal.
"...This is the Dionisan Mirror... in reality nobody knows if that was the original name or something that came to be..." Delphi said when she put the mirror on the counter. On a closer inspection on the frame of the mirror were different inscriptions made in some kind of language that Donnie couldn't recognize. Taking the mirror in his hands, it felt as if it was made from wood. The surface reflected, albeit with difficulties, the scrutinizing gaze of Donnie.
"But... but how is this going to help me?"
"Full left turn to capture the visage... the knob will not turn left any more meanwhile there is a visage inside... Full right turn to release the visage" the gypsy said as she indicated a knob at the bottom down of the handle which had passed unnoticed to Donnie. In closer inspection a fine line created a knob at the bottom of the handle. "Follow the inscription with a finger, from left to right to change appearance with the visage..." she finalized indicating the inscription and the motion to follow.
"I don't understand..."
"You want to get out from your mind. Experimenting a different visage can help you to change your perspectives..." she said as a matter of fact, in a weird trance like voice, was she on drugs?
Some seconds passed between the both of them, Donnie trying to make sense of what Delphi was saying - the stuff with the visage for a start - and Delphi observing the reaction of Donnie; Both of them immobile meanwhile this confrontation happened.
Some more seconds, Delphi becoming exasperated until she finally said, "It's 50 bucks please" returning to her normal tone of voice, the one that she has been using was clearly part of a performance.
"What!? I don't have that money... First of all I still don't know what this does!"
"Ok, ok, let's do this. You can keep it and if it changes your life, you come here and pay me the 50 bucks that I asked, otherwise you give me back the mirror, deal?"
What possibly could a mirror do for him? Donnie was sure that a mirror wouldn't change his life, and the gypsy has been acting strange. Something was telling him that the mirror didn't cost that quantity of money, but Donnie didn't have anything to lose.
"Deal..."
And with that Donnie was out of the store, with a strange looking mirror that supposedly would change his life, "How the fuck should I use this..." Even if the mirror was intended for self exploration - looking at oneself in it - it made a horrible job. At most, he could see his very distorted form and inquisitive gaze.
The walk towards home was filled with these thoughts, the only conclusion that he arrived would be to wait a week and then give it back. Even like that, Donnie was sure that even if he didn't give it back it wouldn't matter, probably the woman wouldn't miss this mirror as she simply gave it away in order to get rid of trash.
---
"Donnie! What is this?" his sister Bella asked once she saw the mirror that Donnie had left on the table of the living room when he arrived back home.
He was preparing himself a sandwich in the kitchen so he answer her back shouting, without looking at what she was doing "A kind of a prop... a gypsy lady give it to me, saying that it's something that can change my life..."
"Yeah, right... If this is a mirror, it's a shitty one... And how should you use it?"
"She said something about rotating the knob at the bottom of the handle to the left." he awaited further questions but they didn't come. Instead the sound of something falling to the floor was heard short after. "Bella?"
Donnie went back to the living room. It was empty and at the feet of the table was the mirror, apparently it has fell when Gabriella left it back from where she took it.
Doonie picked it, but he threw it when he gazed upon his reflection.
"What the-" Picking it up again, there was no more the diffused reflection that was characteristic from the mirror, it has corrected itself and now the strange surface gave a clear image of everything that was reflected in it.
But instead of seeing his face looking back at him, this time was the face of his sister, mimicking each and every one of his movements and expressions, which in these moments was only one;
Fright.
"Bella... Bella! Can you hear me!?" Donnie's sister was moving her mouth in the mirror, but he couldn't hear anything. The look of apprehension on Gabriella's face was agitating Donnie second by second, to the point that Donnie was fearing a panic attack. "Oh God! Bella I will help you!"
Without waiting for an answer Donnie ran to his room, surely there would be something on the internet? If this was real - and if magic was real - the implications were only adding to the list of problem in Donnie's mind. He hoped that all of this was a dream... but everything pointed that in this case, in the best of cases, it was a nightmare.
"Oh god, oh god, oh god...." the room was as he had left it this morning, bedsheets disordered and put together at the end of the bed and on the seat that he used for his computer there were all the clothes yet to be cleaned. The large mirror at the front of his wardrobe reflecting each and every move that Donnie was making, from his frantic movement to his desperate expression. Taking the hand mirror to his eyes height he shouted "Don't worry Bella! I will take you out from there, I just need to-"
Something was off... from his position, he was facing his wardrobe mirror that reflected his full body, and in his hand at around his face height, he has her sister face... Something about the expression of both his and Bella was bugging him out. Slowly, he approached the big mirror and put the small mirror side by side always at his face height. Donnie and Bella expression were the same, differing only in looks alone.
Bringing the free hand to his face, Donnie watched not only as his reflection made the same, but the Bella's one imitate him as if it was his reflection, "Bella...? Can you hear...me?" Bella in the mirror moved her mouth not as if asking for help, but as a reflection of him being Bella. From his face to his hair to his body, Bella imitated every each of his moves. "If this is real, then..." as a final test, he started rising his t-shirt, but meanwhile the image in the little mirror showed the movement of her hand, it wasn't able to move the clothes compared to Donnie.
"Fuck me..."
It was certain that Bella was trapped in the mirror, and that now the mirror reflected him as Bella, but was she aware of what was happening outside the mirror? was she conscious that her brother was making her move in any way that he liked and that he could see her as he would like just by moving the mirror in certain ways... better not go there, she is my sister, Donnie though, still looking at Bella reflection.
"What was what that gypsy was saying.... Full turn left to absorb?" trying to turn the knob to the left, it was locked as she said it would be - meanwhile a visage was inside - "Follow the inscription to change..." he said looking at the runes by the frame, he started touching them but stopped himself when he was at the zenith - wouldn't like to cause an unnecessary transformation - "And full turn right to liberate!" he said at the same time that he did the motion that he had been told to do.
Instantly, as if being sucked out from the mirror, Gabriella body was thrown out from the direction that the mirror was facing, him. The unexpected release together with the weight of Gabriella body made Donnie fell to the floor, with Bella on top of him.
Fortunately she was asleep.
"Bella! Bella, oh my god you are free!" he shouted taking her sister by her shoulder after he was freed of her weight. Gabriella was sleeping normally, dreaming even. "Bella, wake up, please!" What if she couldn't wake up? Because of this fear, he started shaking her from the shoulder, increasing his force until finally, she started moving, She is alive!. Gabriella started to wake up, and after frowning and looking at every side - as disoriented - she looked directly at Donnie.
_What if she remembers everything? What should I tell her? What-_
"What I'm doing in your room, Donnie?" the voice of Bella was very slow, similar to the one that she use at mornings after just waken up, "I was in the living room... and then" she looked lost for words.
"Youstartedtofellasleep... and when I came back to my room, you were sleeping in my bed..."
"Really?... I guess..." and with that she stood up and left, still with a disoriented look.
Donnie remained fixed in his position. What have just happen? The mirror was magical and it was not a prop? I will have to pay 50 dollars!? What more can I do? Can I become anyone? Magic was real? All kind of though started floating in Donnie's mind, the possibilities and implications of his new mirror left him overwhelmed.
The only thing certain for now was that whatever happened meanwhile a person was inside the mirror, they wouldn't remember.
...But this only brought more questions to mind, interrogatives that Donnie needed to figure out before having a plan of action in how to use the mirror.
---
In his room, Donnie was walking left and right, periodically looking towards the mirror resting in the desk, and then again to repeat this routine. He had done this thing for at least one hour now as he thought about the implication of what he could do it, how he could do it, and the fact that magic was real. He had looked online, on the web and in weird forum were people fantasized about being other people.
Donnie had never thought of it, about being other one apart from himself - yes, he wanted to not be a nerd, to be popular with the girls and had thought of how it would be to be another person, but have never entertained the idea. Now instead, given the possibility, it was as if the mirror was whispering to him, to abuse it.
_But... but..._
He had lost time reading different stories and anecdotes, captions and role plays - the fetish unkown to him was more big than he had though.
_What would they do it with this?_
He had wanted to get out from his head, and with the mirror, he could go in another head.
"Donnie, dinner is ready!" from outside his door the voice of his sister had startled him, doing a little jump. The tradition of eating in family was specially more strict now than ever since the divorce of her mom.
Going down and being seated with them, talking about the day and about news Donnie couldn't help for his sight to wander in the bodies of the two people, two females closest to him. His sister with the golden locks and pearl white smile, popular and charismatic with a lot of friends, he didn't want to think about it but her body in perfect condition because of all of the training as cheerleader left her as a prime subject. Just thinking about how earlier in the day he had seen her reflection in the mirror was making him hard... If he had just completed the inscription... But it was wrong...
"Donnie, are you listening?"
"Yes, it's wrong!" a pause and rubor, he cleared his voice, "sorry, what were you saying?"
"I swear, I worked all the day for you and your sister and..." his mother continue with the tirade of a forty something female consumed by divorce and work. His father had always said that your mother was a workaholic, and he couldn't not agree with it. As she talked, Donnie noticed that she released an aura that commanded other to respect her, to listen to her, to follow her, all the qualities that he wished he had.
His sister would become suspicios if she become asleep for the second time in the day without her consciense, so it was later in night when her mother was entering the bathroom to wash herself that Donnie decided to act. Hiding in the corner, his positioned the mirror so her mother would be right in the middle in the moment that she would open the bathroom door. As he heard the knob turnin, Donnie turned left the knob of the mirror. He remained like that, petrified in the spot as he tried to hear for any hint that his mother was still there, the door closing, some steps, anything.
As he slowly turned the mirror towards him, in it the reflection of his mother could be seen. A crazy smile appeared at this moment as Donnie run towards the bathroom and closed it behind him.
"Yes!" The mirror could be used from away, as long as a person was in the reflection. Just this fact alone justified what he had done, and now it was time to reapt the benefits. Turned towards him, his mother face in the reflection of the mirro, with a slow motion he passed hid index finger over the weird runes of the mirror, until he was back wher he started. It felt as if a fuzzy fog was created within him and the mirror - his image being exchanged with his mother - but it only lasted a moment, and this time in the reflection was his face.
"Did it-" he had to stop, his voice sounding feminine and mature. The hand that held the mirror seemed more delicate and thin, but also older given the wrinkles that could be seen from near. He walked towards the mirror, feeling how his new hips rocket left and right. In it, it wasn't his reflection that he had become accustomed to see, but his mother. Green eyes, short hair, same pearl like teeth as your sister. He could feel her tight clothes, the pain in the bones, the constricted the feeling of her bra and how a piece of cloth was alodged firmly in his mother crack. "I did it!"
In front of the mirror, Donnie frenetically tried to disrobe all of her clothes, having particular problems with the black bra now in his possession. The naked body of his mother, taut and slender didn't seem to be of a forty something woman - she took great care of her body, eating healthy and regularly going to the gym - but the pains on the joints gave away her true age.
"Soooo... I was about to take a shower..."
---
The shower was a long one, Donnie relished in all the feeling that his mother's body could provide him - the temperature at wich point he normally take showers wasn't enough, increasing the heat until copius amount of vapor was generated. His new nipples were sensitive, a current passing through his body every time he cleaned them with the loofah and it wasn't long before her new long and delicate fingers were probing his inside.
His exploration was cut short when his sister asked if everything was alright, given that he had forgotten himself with the exploration and time has fly by. But now inside her mother's bedroom, he had white card to continue his exploration, starting with a full on show of her wardrobe.
Dresses, pants, shirts and lots of underwear, wearing the items of cloth in different combination, in different angles, trying the cat walk that women often used - all meanwhile he used her cellphone to save this experience in video.
But the strong dish of the night was the modeling of the underwear and lingerie that his mother had. From the old fashioned pair that he though his mother usually used to the more daring ones, the type that by only holding in his hands was enough to bring rubor to his face, the kind that he had never expected his mother to have - which only make it better when he put it on and masturbated with it still on, over his new vagina.
"This. Is. The. Life." Donnie said between panting, after having another rocking orgasm. The pristine woman that was his mother was no more, replaced by a sexually hungry deviant, "If only she had... stuffs..." for more that he searched, he couldn't find any sexual toy - his mother seemingly more interested in work that in her own life (maybe the reason why she divorced his dad after an apparent affair with a younger woman).
Regaining his breath as his eyes closed in the dimly lit room, he gently caressed the black mirror. In the reflection his own body was smiling with the biggest smile since starting the last school year - gone were the stress of his life, replaced only by the now, the pleasure of his current body.
"Tomorrow will be great..." he thought in loud voice as he slowly fell asleep, his mind drifting with all the possibilities that he could do at the school the next day.
---
Highschool, the place were boys and girls at the doors of adulthood go in order to learn about the different topics that society consider as basic, learn the stablished social norms who rule society and make memories of the better years of one youth. At least this was what most adults would say, the chorus that many have sung so many times that it was a rule, an expectations - but adults forget in most cases that many times inside a high school, were hormones are in an all time high, the relationship of persons were more akin to the jungle, were the strongest (or popular) reign free to do what they liked.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..."
Everything will be alright, boys will be boys, it helps to form character. This and so many other phrases has been told to Donnie, specially by the guidance counselor Charlotte Smith every time that he had went for help, falling in deaf ear. Even with the sign of abuse as bruises or wet clothes, it didn't matter that the bullying continued to escalated, she still didn't do anything.
"Fat-ass, stop running!"
Donnie didn't want to ask for help of his mother - not only it would be lame - she was always so busy that he doubted that she would be interested in helping. Worse of it, his perpetrator was the little brother of his sister's boyfriend, and Donnie didn't want to win the animosity of her in case his mother did something.
"_Huff... Puff..._"
"You thought you could ran from us? This will be worse than if you haven't ran..."
After a good night of sleep, Donnie had woken still in his mother body. The recolection of what he had done hit him in the face - a depravity never seen before from his side. He turned back to himself, leaving her mother in the same position that he had been - well rested and still on lingerie. The breakfast had been the most uncomfortable thing of that morning, Donnie being unable to look at her mother's face, and she was humming as she prepared everything in a hurry.
Donnie was lost in his mind thinking about how to test the mirror, which was currently secured inside his bag, when he collided with the jocks just outside from the changing rooms. Worse of all, he had have a full on frontal crash with his bully, and instead of saying sorry as one would have expected, his first instinct was to run - this as a learnt habit - which probably was for the worst, not only because it would make them angry, but because his physical state wasn't one capable of outrunning them.
Fortunately the torture didn't last long because as soon as the bell sound started playing the group stormed off. Still, for Donnie it would mean to arrive late to class, first because he couldn't walk from the exhaustion and pain inflicted, and then because of the disaster that they had done with his stuff, taking them out from inside his bag and spreading them, a common tactic that they used.
---
"I think you should go to the Principal... maybe he can do something? Maybe he could fire the counselor?"
"I wouldn't bet on it, there are rumors that he is having as affair with her."
"But Donnie doesn't lose anything by asking!"
"I will think about it..."
In the lunchtime it was time to cry and pass the sorrows with his small group of friends; the one most understanding of his situation - given that he also was an usual victim of Leo - was Mateo - or Matt as he liked to be called - Donnie's childhood friend that has been a constant in both of their life. Son of a single mother, he was picked in school because of his Latin heritage, and together with Donnie - with was picked because of his weight - formed the group of the outcast. This soon became a real friendship, and the rest was history.
The other part of his group that completed the trio - or more like a duet with an unofficial member - was Yui Watanabe, the middle child of the Watanabe's family. Originally an outcast - this time not because of the race, but because of how she spoke English and her short hair that made her look more as a boy. This lasted during all of middle school until she started to develop as a woman - she was a late bloomer. After this, and with a renew confidence she became more outgoing and friendly (and popular), having a bigger social circle that the both of them together. In any case, the time passed together during middle school, created the kind of connection that was difficult to lose, and even now the group of friends still could find activities that all of them enjoyed, being one of them anime, with Yui in particular expressing interest in cosplaying, where in her words, she could pretend to be another person, outside of her tomboy persona.
"Seems like he woke up in a bad mood today... this could be one of the worst beating he had give you"
"Goddammit Yui, are you trying to help or what?"
"What? I'm trying to help! I'm trying to give good advice instead of the self comforting stuff that you are sprouting!" Yui started a shouting match with Matt, something rare but that had become more common since she started expanding her social circle.
"You don't understand anything!"
"Oh! I don't understand anything? Please tell me who was an outcast with the both of you until just some years ago!" Yui said as she put her hands by the hips, "Unlike you, I took control of my life. I fought for it"
"Guys..."
"It's not the same you are a woman! You don't understand what it is for men like us!"
"Oh? Now it is the misogynistic argument. For your information, girls can be more callous that men, they play with your mind, they don't care about inflicting physical pain" the voice of Yui started breaking, with some tears starting to appear in her eyes, with a body language that showed she was offended. "Fuck you Matt, I though you were better than this, you can't accept that you don't want to-"
"GUYS!" Donnie interrupted them, trying to project his voice the louder possible. "This is not like us, don't fight for something like this... I-"
"No Donnie, you don't understand...." from one of her big, black eyes a little tear appeared, "Until you do something for yourself, this will continue to escalate, and neither me, Matt, the principal or even your mother will be able to do anything." She stopped to clean her face with some wiping paper, her mascara destroyed in the process "Sorry Donnie, I can't do this anymore..." and she went away, leaving both guys stunned.
"Fuck!" Matt exploded, trying to hit an invisible can "fuck, fuck, FUCK!"
Silenced arrived between the both of them. A long, uncomfortable silence.
"Don't worry, I will not abandon you" Matt whispered after some minutes.
But in Donnie's mind, the words of Yui were still present. 'Until you do something for yourself' were the words of his friend. He knew that in her own way, she was trying to help him. Maybe Donnie couldn't stand up to Leo in the physical sense, but now with the mirror, he finally could do something about it himself.
"Yui is right, I will do something about it myself" Donnie finally said, as he started searching inside his bag for the mirror.
"What are you searching for?" Matt said looking at what Donnie was doing.
"For the solution to our problems!" and so, Donnie went to search on his bag.
A minute passed, another one and then another, Donnie couldn't find the magic mirror for much he searched on his bag. He had no doubts that he had left it there this morning, secured between the history book and the biology-
"So what it is that you are searching for...?"
"A mirror, my mirror!" Donnie shouted as he turned towards Matt, "My magic mirror that I was going to use against Leo!" he finished, looking squarely at Matt.
An uncomfortable silence descended between both of them, until Matt broke the silence, "Magical? Magical as..."
"Yes! Magical! Magical as a bag of holding or an invisibility ring... what it is that you don't understand?"
"...uhmm, everything?"
Donnie in his exalted state hasn't considered that Matt had yet to know about the existence of the magical mirror. The thought of losing the mirror has short-circuited any rational thought and only now he had caught on this. "I bought a magical mirror to an old lady..." he started as Donnie told the story of how the mirror that had been sold to him could trap one image - a visage - in the mirror, and how it could be used to replace someone else's body - leaving the part where he had enjoyed his mother's visage - and now it was the perfect time to enact vengeance on Leo, but he couldn't find it.
"Let's say I believe you... which I still don't... why you didn't test all of this before..." and as an intruding though flashed illuminated his face, he added "Heck! You could have became your own sister!"
"I was afraid! Ok? I didn't want to test it alone, I wanted to show it to you.... but I forgot..."
Silence again returned between the both of them. During this time, the bell indicating the return to the second half of classes sung.
"Look, I will help you find the mirror after classes... Maybe someone found it and left it in the lost and found!"
"I hope..."
The day hadn't started in the best way for Donnie - it was up there as one of the worst - but he hoped that it would become better.
But as they were returning - with Donnie continuing ensuring his friends that the mirror was real and about all of the things they could do with the mirror, and all the different use case that Donnie had thought since yesterday - Donnie failed to notice the messages that Yui had sent to his phone...
'Im sorry'
'didnt meant wat I said'
'Ill try to do something...'
---
"Shit! It is not here either!"
"Let's go, maybe you dreamed all of it?"
"No... definitely not..."
Both Donnie and Matt had gone towards the lost and found once all the classes had ended, but once that they controlled that it wasn't there, at the insistence of Donnie, they started searching for the mirror all around the school, even in places that Donnie haven't been during the day. Right now, in the stalls of the bathroom, they have been searching for more than one hour and they still haven't had luck.
Right now, Donnie was doubting if what he lived yesterday was real, if it was only part of his imagination that his mind had crafted in order to scape reality. But no... all the proof indicated that he hadn't hallucinated... that, or he had started to suffer schizophrenia, or a severe case of gender disphoria.
"C'mon man, are you sure that it was in your bag... maybe you left it in your house..." could it be? If that was the case....
"Yeah, I think you're right..." If he couldn't do anything anymore he didn't need to cry over spilled water. "Anyway, have you seen Yui?"
"Didn't you had classes with her?"
"Yeah, but she didn't show up" After you have arrived at classes, you have seen her messages. But even after assuring her that she was right and that she shouldn't have to worry, she hadn't answered. 'What if Leo did something to her?' was the preoccupation in his mind, but internally he knew that he wouldn't touch a woman.
"Weird... anyway, if you see her, tell her I'm sorry... I have to go, my mother will start to worry if I don't arrive on time."
"Ok, sure... talk to you later"
"Later!"
Yeah, if Donnie couldn't do anything, maybe it was better to return home, look at some anime and later play some League of Legends with Matt, this would maintain his mind far away from the problem... but first he had to go towards the Watanabe's, to see if everything was fine with his friend.
He hadn't taken two step towards his bicycle when a series of text started arriving. They were from Yui, but something was off about them...
'Loseeer'
'Fatass'
'Little bitch'
'Yui! Everything fine???'
In an uncharacteristic show of character, his friend had started insulting Donnie. Fearing the worst, Donnie called her - it was quicker than waiting for her to answer. The call ended without accepting the call, so he tried two times, three times... It was only when he had started to give up that someone answered.
"Yui! is every-"
"Aaaaaah"
His voice had been interrupted from what he could only describe as a moan, the kind that he have heard before in porn. The long moan didn't stop, instead it continued in a series of smaller ones. What preoccupied Donnie the most was the fact that from the other line he could make the voices of men, but they were far away from the cellphone so he couldn't understand what they were saying.
"Yui, YUI! What the Fuck!?"
"Hey Fatass...." the voice that finally answered him from the other side was without a doubt Leo. In what context would Yui be doing what you feared in the presence of Leo? Was this referred to the fact that she would do something? Would she sacrifice her purity for you?
"Leo you motherfucker, if you do anything to Yui I-"
"What!? You will fight me?" Laughs came from the other side, apparently whatever you said was being broadcaster to an audience that you didn't want to know. "Listen, Yui here is taking your place, aren't you happy? Or maybe, you would prefer to be in her position"
"Bullshit! Yui would never do something like that!"
"Here..." you heard Leo passing the cellphone to another person, but within a second you knew who would answer from the other side, as the proximity of the moans increased.
"Hey bitch..." a sensual voice could be heard coming from Yui.
"Yui! You don't need to do anything, I-I-"
"Heck no! You will not do anything because this is the best thing ever! I'm so fucking tigh!"
"Yui..."
"I'm enjoying myself... you should also do it... almost-" This time a cry was heard right next to Donnie's ear, the orgasm of his friend was loud enough that anyone that would have been near him could have heard it. From a silence that seemed to last an eternity, a weak "here... take some photos" was heard.
"Fatass, don't cry, I will sent you a gift so you can masturbate with the little dick of yours... Yui will be enjoying us" Leo said as he finished the call.
"Wait! Yui!" but it was too late, the call had ended unilaterally, and no matter how many times Donnie tried to call back, it didn't matter, someone had turned off her cellphone.
Some minutes passed and as he was despairing, some message started arriving to Donnie's cellphone from an unknown number. "What the fuck!" was the only thing that Donnie could mutter as he observed the naked body of his friend. The different images showed your friend from different angles and with different expressions. The first ones seemed to be from just after the call, as she rested on her back with a satisfied expression, letting for all the world to see her nether region and the big breast that she normally hide on her hoodie.
But then they turned to her playing with her breast and vagina, sucking her own nipples as she fingered her clit, every image being raunchier than the one before it. The last thing sent was a video, in which after pressing play - against Donnie's better judgement - it showed his friend sucking and tit fucking a dick, filmed in first person. In the back Donnie could make the image of different members of the football team with someone saying "that's so gay...".
Enrapture with the photos, he noticed only now that he have an erection - When was that he had gained one? Before or after the photos? With the first moan or with her orgasm?
"Shit..." Without being able to do anything, he returned back home, trying to hide the erection in the way back.
---
Filthy. Bad Friend. Traitor. Conflicting emotions were appearing in Donnie's head as he masturbated to the image of Yui in his cellphone. The emotion that he had always maintained under control - lust for his female friend - has currently gone out of control. From her naked body, to her bigger than expected boobs, and finally her vagina including the tunnel that shouldn't be looked at, the taboo of the situation made this situation worse for the heart of Donnie.
"Yui... Why? Why them?" truth be told, since he received that call and the following messages with the photos, his mind has been in disarray. He had always expected that the little crush that he have towards his friends would become true, even if he didn't act on it because he didn't want to jeopardize the situation. So when not only had the opportunity to ogle at her, but also when she was doing God knows what with his bully and his friends - the maximum betrayal - Donnie's mind did short circuit.
With a hand on his cellphone as he examined the patch of pubic hair of her friend, and the other doing the pumping motion on his dick, Donnie ejaculated all over his cellphone, not the first one of the day. He had been doing this since he returned from school, he hadn't been able to focus his mind in other tasks.
"Donnie! Time to eat" only when finally the voice of his mother called him for dinner, he noticed how much time have passed, already dark outside, before going downstairs he looked towards the Watanabe's house, just across the yard, and directly towards Yui's bedroom - the curtains on the opposed windows were hiding the dimly lit room.
"Yui..." a whisper escaped his mouth.
Going downstairs, he wondered if he could have done something different, if he could have prevented this, in any form. Looking at his sister and mother putting the table side by side, he wondered if the relationship between his group of friends would return to normal.
"Something happened Donnie? You are pale...."
"N-Nothing.... A ltittle bit stressed..."
Seated across his sister, he wondered, what if he never brought the mirror to the school, only using it at home, far away from his bully only within his group of friends, learning little by little the limitations...
"The mirror!" Donnie jumped from his seat, startling both his mother and sister. How could have he forgotten!? Leo and his group of friends had taken stuff out of his bag and must have got the mirror back then. "Fuck!"
"Donnie! Words!" his mother quickly reprimanded him, but that didn't matter, now he knew what he had to do.
"I have to go, mom!"
"No you don't, now sit back and-"
But he didn't care, standing up and running outside towards his neighbor's house, the Watanabe's, was more important than a week without internet - or whatever punishment his mother would give him.
Arriving to their house and ringing the bell, just now intrusive thoughts have started entering his mind, What I'm going to say? What if they are eating? What is- but without making him wait, Yui's mom, Esther Watanabe opened the door. An ever present smile was in her face. The petit woman was wearing a Japanese type dress that covered her whole body.
"Hi Donni! So long since I have seen you! Is everything alright?"
"Hi Ms. Watanabe... Is Yui home?" you didn't want to lose time answering her, already knowing the answer. Knowing if your friend was alright was more important than giving a good impression.
"Yes, she's in her room... Why?"
"Something from the school... Can I see her?"
"Sure?" She answered you as she stepped aside. He didn't make himself wait, taking quickly his shoes off - a tradition in the Watanabes's house. He runned from the entrance to the second floor and right outside Yui's bedroom, he tried to enter but the door was closed.
"Occupied!" came Yui's voice from inside.
"Yui! open! is me! Donnie!" he shouted, he didn't care if every other person in the house could hear him. Not two seconds passed and the door opened a little bit as he was yanked inside the bedroom, feeling to the floor in the dimly illuminated space, a musky smell permeating all the interior. "Yui, are you-" fine is what he wanted to ask, but as it turned out, he could see that that Yui wasn't his Yui.
His friends had a bemusing smile, looking in his direction, as if proving for a reaction. Donnie didn't care so much about this, as his friend body was wearing only a thong, her bare tits with her nipples looking right back at him. In her current naked state, he appreciated Yui's body as never before - the marked abdominal from her torso, the toned legs that rose until her big hips, her vagina hidden behind a black piece of cloth. A flushed face, perspiration covering her body, the pheromones in the room and the copious amount of clothes scattered around was enough to make him know what Yui - or the person wearing her visage - was doing.
"How-"
"Your Chinese friend has a rocking body, I will not lie" Yui interrupted him before he could finish his sentence "The amount of times that I have came in this body... God! Just thinking about it makes me wet" Yui finished as she stroked her pussy over the thong.
"Don't do that to her!"
"Or what!?" she changed her tone, to a more intimidating one, approaching you little by little, "Is the fat ass going to stop me from touching myself?"
"Give her body back-"
"mmmm... What would happen if I shout "rape"?" This made Donnie stop, feeling a cold shiver running down his spine. One word and his life would be over.
Cold in his feet, Donnie could only mutter a small "D-Don't do it..." almost imperceptible for anyone but him and Yui.
"Yeah, that's what I though." The person in Yui's body turned to the bed, resting her back in one of the many cushions that were there, and spreading her legs at the same time that moved her little thong to the side "Now lick, I have heard that it is awesome".
The smell increased from one moment to the other. Being face to face with the wet hair of her pubic zone was something that he have never dreamt of, even when you resorted to her during some of your masturbating session. He could hear a small ti.... coming from the back of your head as the thumbing on your chest resonate in all of your body. Feeling light weighted, Donnie did one fake step after which he found himself on the floor, with Yui looking down on him, displease present on her face.
"What a bitch..."
His vision now blurry only let him see that Yui had stood up before everything went to dark. In this final moments he could only mutter "Yui..." before Donnie lost consciousness.
transformation
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These stories tells you about Peter Parker and his lovely redheaded big-tittied wife, Mary-Jane Waston-Parker with her transformations.
(PETER PARKER, in his classic red-and-blue Spider-Man suit, though the mask is off and pushed back like a hood, sits on a comfortable couch next to his wife, MARY JANE WATSON-PARKER. She’s stunning, with a cascade of fiery red hair and a confident, loving smile. They’re both turned slightly, as if addressing a camera. A soft, romantic light glows around them.)
PETER: (Clears his throat, a little nervous) So, uh… hey. Hi. If you’re watching this, you probably know the deal. Radioactive spider, great power, great responsibility, all that. The whole… thing.
MARY JANE: (Laughs, a warm, rich sound. She playfully elbows him.) The whole ‘thing’? Tiger, you saved the city, like, a dozen times last week. You can say it. You’re Spider-Man. The Amazing Spider-Man.
PETER: (Blushes slightly, smiling at her) Right. That. And this… this is my wife, Mary Jane. The most amazing woman in any universe, multiverse, or frankly, any conceivable dimension. Geez, I'm just getting tired of all the multiverse now.
MARY JANE: (She leans into him, her head on his shoulder) Flatterer. But he’s not wrong. We’ve been through it all, haven’t we, Pete? That dorky, nervous kid from Queens who tripped over his own feet asking me out…
PETER: (Groans good-naturedly) Do we have to bring that up?
MARY JANE: Absolutely. And our first kiss… up on that web-line, with the city lights sparkling below us. I knew you were my Spider then. I’ve known you were Spider-Man since we were teenagers, and I’ve loved every single crazy, web-slinging, villain-punching minute of it.
PETER: (He looks at her, his expression full of adoration) And we got married. For real. No devil deals, no retcons, no editors from on high deciding we’d be better off miserable and apart. Just… us.
MARY JANE: (Her expression turns wry, addressing the ‘camera’ directly) You hear that, certain comic book writers? We’re happy. We’re together. We’re a team. And we have a life that’s… well, let’s just say it’s never, ever boring.
PETER: Understatement of the century, MJ. Because while my life is pretty consistently weird, yours… yours has taken some truly unexpected turns.
MARY JANE: (A mischievous glint appears in her emerald eyes) Oh, you have no idea. Or, well, I guess you’re about to. We thought we’d share some stories. The kind of stories they’d never let us tell in the funny pages these days. The good stuff.
PETER: (Rubs the back of his neck, a familiar gesture) Right. The… ahem… transformative experiences.
MARY JANE: (She grins, a brilliantly wicked smile) That’s one way to put it. Remember that time, a few years back, when that weird black goo from space didn’t latch onto you, Tiger? It decided it liked my fashion sense better, including improving everything within me.
PETER: How could I forget? I came home and instead of my beautiful wife, there was… a towering, powerful, incredibly voluptuous creature of pure alien symbiote. White spider emblem and everything. You called yourself… Venom or Venomess.
MARY JANE: (Her voice drops to a playful, sultry growl) We… are Venom. And we had… needs. Very specific, very physical needs. And let’s just say my strong, sticky husband was more than equipped to handle them. All those extra tendrils came in very handy.
PETER: (His face is now completely red. He fans himself with his hand.) Wow. Okay. Yeah. That’s… that’s a story. Then there was the summer you and I went to Central Park and found that weird geode that fell from the sky…
MARY JANE: Oh, the Omnitrix! Yeah, instead of a kid named Ben Tennyson, I received it instead. One touch and suddenly I had access to many alien forms. Pyronite was great for roasting marshmallows, Tetramand was basically She-Hulk but an alien with four arms and four eyes… but my personal favorite is Galvanic Mechamorph because it would allow us to-
PETER: (Sputtering) MJ! The kids might—
MARY JANE: They’re not listening! Relax, tiger. Then there was the mishap at that gala at the Natural History Museum. I fell right into the exhibit…
PETER: The Clayface exhibit! Yes, I remember. Plus, Bruce Wayne and Reed Richards help you recover yourself from Joker. At that time, it didn't work right away. By the time I takes you home, you’re starts to become a shapeshifting mound of living clay. And you know what? You were still the most beautiful woman in the room. Even if you're a blob clay monster. That was… a unique experience.
MARY JANE: (Winking) You didn’t complain. Not once. And let’s not forget your own upgrade, Mr. Kamen Rider. When that ancient belt fused with your web-shooters…
PETER: (Strikes a mock-heroic pose) “Henshin!” Yeah, the armored suit was cool, I’ll admit. But it was nothing compared to you bursting through our bedroom wall as Cutey Honey, ready for… ahem… ‘action’.
MARY JANE: “Honey Flash!” It was all in the name of justice. And very, very thorough lovemaking.
(They both laugh, lost in the memory for a moment. Peter looks at MJ with utter love.)
PETER: Through it all… symbiote, aliens, clay, magical girl transformations, and many things… you’ve always been you, MJ. My Mary Jane. And I wouldn’t change a single, bizarre, incredible second of it.
MARY JANE: Me neither, Tiger. Me neither. Now, how about we tell our friends here about the time I—
(Suddenly, a door bursts open off-screen. A young girl, MAYDAY PARKER, about 8 years old, runs in, followed by her little brother, BENJY, who’s about 5.)
MAYDAY: Mom! Dad! Uncle Johnny is on fire in the backyard again!
BENJY: (Holding a action figure) He says it’s ‘flame on’ but it’s just the barbecue! It’s boring!
(Peter and MJ look at each other and sigh in perfect, happy unison.)
PETER: (To the ‘camera’, shrugging apologetically) Duty—and family—calls. Don’t worry, True Believers… there are plenty more stories where those came from.
MARY JANE: (Blows a kiss) And they’re all much, much better than ‘One More Day’. Promise!
(They get up from the couch, Peter swooping Benjy into his arms while MJ puts an arm around Mayday, and they walk out of the frame together, a perfect, loving, chaotic family.)
[STORY TITLE CARD APPEARS:]
PETER PARKER THE AMAZING SPIDER-MAN & MARY-JANE WITH MANY TRANSFORMATIONS STORIES
[UPCOMING ATTRACTIONS LIST:]
* Peter Parker and Mary-Jane - The Amazing SPIDER-MAN & Venomess What if Mary-Jane bonds and has the symbiote at first instead Peter Parker.
* Spider-Man & MJ-10 What if Mary-Jane wields and have the Omnitrix instead of Ben Tennyson
* Spider-Man & ClayMJ MJ becomes a shapeshifting clay creature, and Peter proves his love is more than skin deep.
(PETER PARKER, in his classic red-and-blue Spider-Man suit, though the mask is off and pushed back like a hood, sits on a comfortable couch next to his wife, MARY JANE WATSON-PARKER. She’s stunning, with a cascade of fiery red hair and a confident, loving smile. They’re both turned slightly, as if addressing a camera. A soft, romantic light glows around them.)
PETER: (Clears his throat, a little nervous) So, uh… hey. Hi. If you’re watching this, you probably know the deal. Radioactive spider, great power, great responsibility, all that. The whole… thing.
MARY JANE: (Laughs, a warm, rich sound. She playfully elbows him.) The whole ‘thing’? Tiger, you saved the city, like, a dozen times last week. You can say it. You’re Spider-Man. The Amazing Spider-Man.
PETER: (Blushes slightly, smiling at her) Right. That. And this… this is my wife, Mary Jane. The most amazing woman in any universe, multiverse, or frankly, any conceivable dimension. Geez, I'm just getting tired of all the multiverse now.
MARY JANE: (She leans into him, her head on his shoulder) Flatterer. But he’s not wrong. We’ve been through it all, haven’t we, Pete? That dorky, nervous kid from Queens who tripped over his own feet asking me out…
PETER: (Groans good-naturedly) Do we have to bring that up?
MARY JANE: Absolutely. And our first kiss… up on that web-line, with the city lights sparkling below us. I knew you were my Spider then. I’ve known you were Spider-Man since we were teenagers, and I’ve loved every single crazy, web-slinging, villain-punching minute of it.
PETER: (He looks at her, his expression full of adoration) And we got married. For real. No devil deals, no retcons, no editors from on high deciding we’d be better off miserable and apart. Just… us.
MARY JANE: (Her expression turns wry, addressing the ‘camera’ directly) You hear that, certain comic book writers? We’re happy. We’re together. We’re a team. And we have a life that’s… well, let’s just say it’s never, ever boring.
PETER: Understatement of the century, MJ. Because while my life is pretty consistently weird, yours… yours has taken some truly unexpected turns.
MARY JANE: (A mischievous glint appears in her emerald eyes) Oh, you have no idea. Or, well, I guess you’re about to. We thought we’d share some stories. The kind of stories they’d never let us tell in the funny pages these days. The good stuff.
PETER: (Rubs the back of his neck, a familiar gesture) Right. The… ahem… transformative experiences.
MARY JANE: (She grins, a brilliantly wicked smile) That’s one way to put it. Remember that time, a few years back, when that weird black goo from space didn’t latch onto you, Tiger? It decided it liked my fashion sense better, including improving everything within me.
PETER: How could I forget? I came home and instead of my beautiful wife, there was… a towering, powerful, incredibly voluptuous creature of pure alien symbiote. White spider emblem and everything. You called yourself… Venom or Venomess.
MARY JANE: (Her voice drops to a playful, sultry growl) We… are Venom. And we had… needs. Very specific, very physical needs. And let’s just say my strong, sticky husband was more than equipped to handle them. All those extra tendrils came in very handy.
PETER: (His face is now completely red. He fans himself with his hand.) Wow. Okay. Yeah. That’s… that’s a story. Then there was the summer you and I went to Central Park and found that weird geode that fell from the sky…
MARY JANE: Oh, the Omnitrix! Yeah, instead of a kid named Ben Tennyson, I received it instead. One touch and suddenly I had access to many alien forms. Pyronite was great for roasting marshmallows, Tetramand was basically She-Hulk but an alien with four arms and four eyes… but my personal favorite is Galvanic Mechamorph because it would allow us to-
PETER: (Sputtering) MJ! The kids might—
MARY JANE: They’re not listening! Relax, tiger. Then there was the mishap at that gala at the Natural History Museum. I fell right into the exhibit…
PETER: The Clayface exhibit! Yes, I remember. Plus, Bruce Wayne and Reed Richards help you recover yourself from Joker. At that time, it didn't work right away. By the time I takes you home, you’re starts to become a shapeshifting mound of living clay. And you know what? You were still the most beautiful woman in the room. Even if you're a blob clay monster. That was… a unique experience.
MARY JANE: (Winking) You didn’t complain. Not once. And let’s not forget your own upgrade, Mr. Kamen Rider. When that ancient belt fused with your web-shooters…
PETER: (Strikes a mock-heroic pose) “Henshin!” Yeah, the armored suit was cool, I’ll admit. But it was nothing compared to you bursting through our bedroom wall as Cutey Honey, ready for… ahem… ‘action’.
MARY JANE: “Honey Flash!” It was all in the name of justice. And very, very thorough lovemaking.
(They both laugh, lost in the memory for a moment. Peter looks at MJ with utter love.)
PETER: Through it all… symbiote, aliens, clay, magical girl transformations, and many things… you’ve always been you, MJ. My Mary Jane. And I wouldn’t change a single, bizarre, incredible second of it.
MARY JANE: Me neither, Tiger. Me neither. Now, how about we tell our friends here about the time I—
(Suddenly, a door bursts open off-screen. A young girl, MAYDAY PARKER, about 8 years old, runs in, followed by her little brother, BENJY, who’s about 5.)
MAYDAY: Mom! Dad! Uncle Johnny is on fire in the backyard again!
BENJY: (Holding a action figure) He says it’s ‘flame on’ but it’s just the barbecue! It’s boring!
(Peter and MJ look at each other and sigh in perfect, happy unison.)
PETER: (To the ‘camera’, shrugging apologetically) Duty—and family—calls. Don’t worry, True Believers… there are plenty more stories where those came from.
MARY JANE: (Blows a kiss) And they’re all much, much better than ‘One More Day’. Promise!
(They get up from the couch, Peter swooping Benjy into his arms while MJ puts an arm around Mayday, and they walk out of the frame together, a perfect, loving, chaotic family.)
[STORY TITLE CARD APPEARS:]
PETER PARKER THE AMAZING SPIDER-MAN & MARY-JANE WITH MANY TRANSFORMATIONS STORIES
[UPCOMING ATTRACTIONS LIST:]
* Peter Parker and Mary-Jane - The Amazing SPIDER-MAN & Venomess What if Mary-Jane bonds and has the symbiote at first instead Peter Parker.
* Spider-Man & MJ-10 What if Mary-Jane wields and have the Omnitrix instead of Ben Tennyson
* Spider-Man & ClayMJ MJ becomes a shapeshifting clay creature, and Peter proves his love is more than skin deep.
ftf
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Chapter by
smatster · 21 Oct 2025 -
A man fucking a sexy female genie, says "he wishes she was always with him."
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I could feel her warmth wrapping around me, every thrust sending waves of pleasure through both of us. Her name—if genies even have names—was Lila, and she was everything I’d ever dreamed of: fierce, magical, impossibly beautiful. Her dark eyes locked with mine, her lips parted in a breathless moan as I moved inside her.
“I wish you were always with me,” I breathed into the space between us, the words slipping out before I could think better of them.
Her eyes widened just a fraction, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. I felt her tighten around me, her body shuddering with the beginnings of her climax. At the same moment, my own release surged through me, hot and overwhelming.
That’s when she snapped her fingers.
A soft, shimmering light enveloped her, and before my eyes, Lila began to dissolve—not into nothing, but into swirls of violet and gold smoke. The scent of jasmine and ozone filled the air. Panic shot through me as her form evaporated, the smoke curling like living tendrils, spiraling downward, drawn inexorably toward my still-throbbing cock.
“What the—?” I choked out, but it was too late.
The smoke poured into me, a strange, tingling sensation flooding my veins. My penis swelled, heavier, fuller than it had ever felt, almost unnaturally so. I stared down, half-expecting to see something grotesque, but it looked… normal. Except for the faint, shimmering glow just beneath the skin.
Then her voice—Lila’s voice—echoed not from the air around me, but from somewhere deep inside.
“Mmm, much cozier than a lamp,” she purred, her tone dripping with satisfaction.
I stumbled backward, falling onto the bed, heart hammering against my ribs. “Lila? Where are you? What did you do?”
Her laugh was a soft vibration that seemed to ripple through my entire body. “You wished for me to always be with you, my dear. And a wish is a wish.” She sounded utterly pleased with herself. “Consider me… relocated.”
“Relocated?” I repeated, my voice trembling. “You’re inside my… my…”
“Your magnificent new vessel, yes,” she finished for me, her tone light and teasing. “Don’t worry, I won’t be a bother. Well, not unless you want me to be.”
I stared, dumbfounded, at my own body. “How do I get you out?”
“The usual way, of course,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “A genie must be released from her vessel by the one who possesses it. All it takes is a rub—a good, firm, intentional one—and I’ll manifest. Though I must say,” she added, her voice dropping to a husky whisper, “I’m rather enjoying the view from in here.”
I could feel her presence like a warmth pooling low in my belly, a constant, intimate hum. Part of me was terrified. The other part… well, the other part was already imagining what it might be like the next time I “rubbed” her out.
“So,” I said slowly, my hand hovering uncertainly near my hip. “Any time I… touch myself… you’ll come out?”
Her laughter vibrated through me again, warm and rich. “Only if you mean it, my dear. But I have a feeling you will.”
And just like that, my life got a whole lot more interesting.
No more chapters.
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