Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I asked for a mirror and some clothes. They went to get me both, quickly too. It was weird to be treated so well after so long in the dungeon. I was waiting to be questioned or de-briefed or whatever they wanted to do to me. They gave me a glass of water and I sipped it nervously.

"It's so good to be free," O'Toole said, practically dancing. He had left his blanket on the bench and his cock swung around powerfully as he walked. I tried not to stare but my eyes were not cooperating. This body had needs and desires that I was quickly becoming aware of.

"Could you… put your blanket back on?" I asked O'Toole meekly.

"Huh?" he said, turning to face me.

I blushed and turned away as if I was staring at the sun, "Your body is… well, arousing mine." I hated my new body.

He nodded sombrely and donned the scratchy blanket, even though it was much too stuffy to wear a blanket in our little holding room.

O'Toole and I stared at each other from either side of the room. It was like the dungeon again, sitting and staring and not saying the things on our mind. I had already had been rescued from the chains, the cold stone floor and those weirdos, all I left to be rescued from was O'Toole and I was certain that we would so go our separate ways. Not that my body wanted that to happen. My body wanted him to pick me right then and there and have his way with me.

My pussy began to lubricate, awaiting the arrival of O'Toole firm appendage. My hand, now in my body's control, began to massage my labia. It was the very first time I had felt it, since I had been chained to a wall. It belonged to me. It felt so foreign and so familiar. I gasped in surprised but didn't stop. I wasn't sure I could stop. Those fucking Dragons had taken away my free will! I threw open my blanket and began stroking one of my nipples. It was hard and erect. I looked like a horny university girl, hamming it up for a web-cam or something. O'Toole watched on, with a look of interest mixed with despair.

"I'm sure they have ways of controlling your sex drive, Jane. You don't have to be a 'Farm-girl' the rest of your life," O'Toole said, his voice cutting the sounds of my moans.

I didn't deserve this, did I? I thought about all the bad things I did.

****

5 years before

I looked at my phone for like thirtieth time in a matter of minutes. There she was, posing for me, begging for me and wearing nothing but a pout. I had never felt so alive and crazy and devilish in my entire life. I know they say that life begins at 40 but as far as I was concerned my life had stalled by 30 and hadn't showed signs of movement for years. For all I knew I was in purgatory. But the introduction of Bliss in my life had recharged me with a vim and vigour I didn't know was inside me.

I know, her name is Bliss and that's a horrible name. She was product of hippies, the type of hippies that live in regional towns, start petitions over every little thing and make and sell organic soap at markets. The type of people that my wife and I used to quietly make fun while walking past, back when my wife was fun.

Bliss was fun and in no way a hippy. I guess the way to rebel against hippy parents is to come to the city and get a degree in commerce. And I guess the way to rebel against a boring wife and a boring life was to sleep with one of my accounting students.

19! She was 19! And she looked it too! So youthful and taut. Standing together we looked like a 'Before' and 'After' photo of a life of too much stress. I balding and tired while her long, red locks seemed to be the personification of vibrancy. I pulled her hair while I fucked her from behind and loved it. My wife's hair had always been far too short for that, not that I ever tried. Bliss begged me too, she was just that crazy.

I thought back to the first time I had sex with her. I gasped as I slid my eager cock into her, feeling the deep enchanting pull of her pussy. Bliss squealed in delight as if I was giving her an expensive present and we enthusiastically made love. It was the first time I had ever cheated on my wife and I drove home feeling so guilty. But Bliss felt so good, she was so tight and wet, it was like being reborn. But I didn't find God, I found the joy of sex.

What made me do it again that night was that the fact I didn't get caught the first time. Cheating was surprisingly easy. I might have cancelled our second rendezvous if I thought I was going to be found out but it was clear my wife didn't suspect a thing. I was being discreet, Bliss was keeping quiet, it was fun and so easy. Tonight, according to what I told my wife, I was attending a fundraiser from the university's film club. What I was really going to do was fuck a student.

Surprisingly after the first time, I felt little guilt. Now that seems terrible and I'll confess that it is terrible. I felt I had earned an affair; there was this entire sense of entitlement. My quite life of boredom and dependable routine was payment for the flurry of my excitement I was now enjoying. I had provided and cared for my family and now it was time to take care of me.

I pulled up at a red light and looked at my phone again. I was only five minutes from her house and thus only six minutes from being buried deep in her pussy. I felt the blood amass in my crotch, Bliss never failed to get me hard. And here I was thinking I had an impotence problem, seems like the cure for that is a 19-year-old plaything.

You have to love a girl who answers the door naked.

"Hi," she said coyly.

I expressed what was going through my mind, "I am the luckiest man in the world!"

"Come here and let me suck your cock!" she purred, pulling me inside and closing the door. My wife had never uttered those words to me. In fact she acted like fellatio was a chore, a chore that wasn't urgent. Bliss however sucked my cock with such glee like it was a sugary treat. Her big green eyes would look up at me seeking approval and I would nod.

What a great way to start a date, being dragged inside to have my cock dutifully serviced. This girl was something special and she made me feel alive. Alive and happy. After I had shot my load into her waiting mouth she undressed me, peeling off my clothes. "How was your day?" she asked after getting up off her knees.

"Good, good," I replied, "There's this hot little redhead in my class and she was wearing this little skirt. Very distracting," I gave Bliss a wolfish smile.

"Oh yeah? How did you ever keep your mind on the class?" she said as she ruffled what was left of my hair.

"It was tough, believe me, every time I took a breath she would spread her legs wide enough so that I could see her panties." Talking dirty was something I wasn't really familiar with but it was enchanting.

Bliss' long, twig-like fingers entangled my cock, grasping tightly and rubbing. "But she wasn't wearing any panties, was she?"

I gulped. I had never been so turned on in all my life. "No, you weren't." Bliss' eyes widened as she felt me 'awaken' in her hand. A wry smile crept onto her lips, she was in total control and she knew it.

"I've been a bad girl," she purred and bit my ear lobe.

"Oh yeah," I moaned.

"Aren't you going to punish me, Professor?" I always got a bit of a rush when anyone called me 'Professor', that time I nearly ejaculated.

"Huh?" I asked. My wife, nor any of my few conquests had ever asked to be punished. I always tried as hard as I could to make sure I never ever hurt them. Bliss, however, was not like any other girl I had ever had before.

"Naughty school girls, like me, should… No! MUST be spanked!" she said as she helped herself to whopping handfuls of my arse, "Or else we'll wont learn anything."

This was further than I've ever been before. I had lived my entire life on one side of the sexual experience: vanilla, boring, missionary, boy-atop-girl, sanctioned sex. Bliss stood before me, dangling the keys that unlocked a gate. A gate I had often gazed longingly at: spanking, minor bondage, dirty talk, oral, maybe even anal. Nothing too perverse, just stuff that 'other couples' would do. My wife would talk about these 'other couples' (on the rare occasions that she did) as though she pitied them. I looked at these 'other couples' with envy. They had the tools of excitement lying in front of them to spice up any night. All I had was the unimpressive question of, "How's your back feeling, honey? Feeling up to 'it' tonight?"

Bliss jangled the keys louder, "Spank me!"

Once I went through the gate I knew there was no going back.

"Bend over my knee, you dirty girl!"

****

This girl didn't feel like Bliss. Sure she was 19 and had long flowing red hair but it just wasn't the same. While it was plainly obvious that no two girls are exactly the same, it is ever more obvious when you are cock-deep inside them. Alicia just wasn't Bliss.

"Mmmm, that feels good, Mr. Jane!"

Even her dirty talk was boring. Bliss would call me 'Professor'. I grunted as I worked hard. That was the problem, fucking this girl felt like work. I grabbed her hips and pounded her pussy a little harder, she responded favourably.

Bliss was long gone. I had been searching for a replacement for a few years now, trying to recapture the excitement of the first girl, the first time. Each new school year I would eye off my hottest students, the ones with the longest legs and perkiest boobs and try and get them into my bed. If I was turned down, I would try the second most attractive one and so on. Let's just say Alicia was not my first pick. And I doubt I was hers too.

Fucking my students just wasn't that much fun anymore. A lot of the danger was gone now. My wife had discovered my philandering ways, I had become sloppy and hadn't covered my tracks well enough. She found out about my 'girls' and decided that I was a horrible man. Perhaps I was. I don't blame her for leaving, our only child was almost an adult and didn't need parenting from me anymore. So, I was alone, renting a shitty flat and chasing that empty feeling away with students, booze and the greyhounds.

I was bored. Work was unfulfilling, my home life was dreary and Alicia wasn't kinky enough for my liking. I could never find a girl as kinky as Bliss. But she outgrew me. Her words. She 'outgrew' me. Show me any 20-year-old girl more mature than a 44 academic. Well, she's 24 now, she was 20 when we parted ways. I hadn't seen her in years at yet could not stop thinking about her.

This girl wasn't any fun. I was just going through the motions. I wouldn't be satisfied unless things got a little more exciting. "I like it, I like it," Alicia whispered. How generic. What she needed was a hard firm spank, to throw a little danger into the mix. A small amount of pain can really double the pleasure. One of my hands, my good one, lifted high in the air. Maybe a swift spanking will kick start this girl. I felt the air gush between my fingers as my palm came crashing down on my round, soft, buttock.

"Ouch! What the fuck are you doing!?!"

Ah well, she wasn't that good anyway. I could still get to the track in time for the start of the greyhounds.

****

So, I wasn't the best man alive. So, I cheated, I gambled, I borrowed with no intention of returning. There were a lot of men far worst than me that received far less a punishment. There were murders out there walking around scot-free. And I had been turned into a 'Farm-Girl'. I now wore the body of a beautiful, sensual sex-slave. Lady Justice definitely had something against me.

My hands could not keep to themselves. I did not have enough free will to pull them away from my privates. I threw back my head and moaned, "Oh yes!" as my middle finger began to rub my clitoris. My hips began to involuntarily buck to maximise the pleasure, which made my boobs jiggle provocatively. I couldn't look at O'Toole I didn't want to see what he thought of such a display.

To be perfectly honest, it felt amazing. I didn't want it to stop. The pleasure felt powerful enough to run a whole city block. My 'Farm-Girl' body was responding to every little movement. I moaned loudly but didn't care who heard me, the pleasure was my only concern.

It began to build. I didn't think it was possible but it felt even better, more intense. I thought I heard O'Toole say something but it was just garble in my ears. My breathing quickened. My long, dainty finger, now covered in my own juices began to pump in and out at an alarming rate. "Fuck yes!"

"Fuck yes!"

"Oh yes!"

I hit my peak. An orgasm.

It felt incredible.

I basked in the glow of pure joy, hugging myself a little. I slid the finger out of my tight pussy. It was soaked in my juices but I didn't care. I would have cut that entire finger off it felt that good. I finally felt relaxed. That orgasm was precisely what I needed. 'Perhaps this body isn't my sworn enemy after all,' I thought. I quickly rethought that when I looked over at O'Toole and my first though was to give him a generous head job.

A squat and petite woman came in and delivered O'Toole and I some clothes. We were told it wouldn't be too long before our briefing, just a few more minutes. Atop my small pile of clean clothes was a little hand mirror. I hadn't seen my new face since the transformation and had no idea what I looked like. That's a very weird position to be in, not knowing what you look like, considering how much of a person's identity is based on what you look like. Whenever I thought about it I pictured my old, weathered, masculine face sitting atop of the gorgeous, young and utterly feminine body. The mirror would reveal the truth.

"Fuck," I cursed with my feminine voice. It was a curse of surprise and also of dread. Surprise, because I was more beautiful than I imagined and dread because I would have to live the rest of my life as the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.

"What's wrong?" O'Toole asked me as his face emerged from his new T-shirt.

"I'm really, really hot," I sighed, defeated. I had hoped for an ugly, or even a plain looking face. I already knew my body was spectacular but I wished I was a bit of a 'butter face'. This exquisite body I could hide, underneath piles of baggy, dowdy clothes but my gorgeous face was on show for all to see.

My large brown eyes were the centrepiece of my face. They lit up the room, remarkably they were filled with both lust and innocence in a weird mix. My eyebrows were perfectly and seemingly naturally arched, making me look mischievous. I wriggled my little upturned nose, just to make sure the reflection was mine.

My inspection was interrupted by a now fully clothed O'Toole, "I'm sure there are worst fates than being a beautiful woman." He reached up and gave me a reassuring squeeze on my shoulders, brushing my luxuriously long brown hair out of the way. It felt nice to have someone touch my soft skin, I revelled in the way his warm hands felt on my bare skin. I had the fight the temptation to kiss him again. Luckily, O'Toole was on the page as me, "Come on, let's get you dressed."

He grabbed the plain white tee that was on top of the stack. "Arms up," he instructed me, like I was a petulant child he was dressing. I complied, but only because I didn't want to get into a fight with him or kiss him. He pulled the cotton shirt passed my hands, over my head and down over my expansive chest. Accidentally, his hands brushed past my nipple and I got a burst of pleasure. I'm sure most women aren't catapulted in a bliss frenzy when their nipples are grazed, but I am a 'Farm-Girl' and built for giving and receiving pleasure.

"Oh!" I excitedly moaned, my hands leaping up to massage my now erect nipples through their cotton confines, "That felt good!"

"Let's keep our goal in mind, Wallace." O'Toole usually called me by my last name, Jane, but since I became a real 'Jane' he'd been calling me by my seldom used first name. "Step into these."

Panties. That's what he held out - white, little, cotton panties. No room in them for a penis or testicles. Sure there was a little more room in the back, but that was for a female's more ample behind. I took them for him. I was stable enough to put on my own underwear. My legs were annoyingly long, I felt I was tugging them up forever. I was always a leg-man and now I was a leggy woman, karma or some such was surely at play. The panties came to rest at the top of my legs, where my privates lay.

The navy blue sweat pants were the most colourful item in my ensemble but that wasn't saying much. I pulled them over my long legs once more and past my wide hips. It was rudimentary, but I was dressed. O'Toole was dressed in identical attire, except he wore underwear and not 'panties'. It felt good to be dressed, it certainly decrease my immense sexual urges, if only because there was layer of clothes between me and making love. My nipples however made their presence known, poking through and rubbing sensually against their cotton captures.

But I was dressed and that made me feel much more like a real human than I had for the last 3 months.

"They're ready for you, ma'm," said the short squat woman who motioned for me. I took a deep breath, watching my large breasts expand and started towards the door.

I walked down the winding corridors. The floor was cold on my bare feet, I had not been provided with shoes yet. "Just through there, ma'm," she told me.

I tentatively opened the door. "Hello?" I asked as I peeked in.

Inside, sat a beautiful woman. A woman I knew.

****

Thanks so much for reading. As always you can send me an email if you want to discuss anything about my stories, [email protected]