"Welcome home, Master."
I had a pleasant surprise waiting for me at home. Elle was waiting for me at the door, and not only was her black eye gone, but she looked better than ever.
Part of that was the outfit. Long, white gloves that ran up her arms. Matching white stockings that went just past mid-thigh. A tiny black bikini top with white frills that could barely hide her nipples, let alone contain her breasts. A leather collar with a small but sturdy looking padlock on front. And the most hilarious excuse for an apron I'd ever seen, a black thong whose triangle had instead been replaced with a few inches of white cloth that would take no effort at all to flip up.
The other part was just how submissive, horny, and happy she looked. Her eyes were shining just because I'd returned and she had another chance to serve me. Her whole life's purpose had become pleasing me, and I could think of nothing sexier than that.
"Just where were you keeping that?" I asked as I took in her perverted maid uniform.
"Do you like it? I ordered it online yesterday, and it just came in." She gracefully rose up to her feet and gave me a spin. Her backside was completely naked and the tiny apron flipped up, giving me a nice flash of her shaved cunt.
"It's perfect." Seeing no reason to hold myself back, I grabbed her, squeezing her ass as I lifted her up off her feet. She responded like a natural slut, her legs wrapping around my waist, her arms around my neck, and she came in close for a long, deep kiss, her tongue yielding against mine, her heated moans filling my ears.
I started carrying her towards the bedroom when she pulled back, "Master, I want you to fuck me so, so, so bad! But I prepared a meal for you, Master. Don't you want to eat?"
Before, I'd get so engrossed in my research I'd skip meals. It was why I had been so rail thin before. Back then, my mother had made sure I'd eat something, even if it was just a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or some blue box mac and cheese. I wondered for a moment if this was some remnant of her old personality, but then considered the possibility that this was another manifestation to put my pleasure and well-being over her own: she would rather I fucked her furiously, but believed I would benefit from eating.
Either way, she had a solid point. Now that it was brought back to my attention, my stomach was gnawing at me. The orange pill formula that had transformed my body had used up a lot of energy, and I'd need a lot more just to maintain it.
"Alright, let's see what you've cooked up this time." I sat her back on her feet and followed her to the kitchen, my eyes glued to her round, full ass.
The spread waiting for me was even more impressive than breakfast had been yesterday. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, buttery corn on the cob, a large bowl full of sausage cheese balls, and a whole apple pie. The sights and smells took me back to my childhood, when my mother had gone all out with her cooking for Thanksgiving or Christmas. After the accident, she had become a shadow of herself and we'd mostly skipped those holidays.
It was good to see those skills weren't lost and would serve my Elle well.
I took a seat at the head of the table and started eating. At some point, Elle poured a tall glass of iced tea for me. She stood at my side, hands folded in front of her little apron. This wasn't a meal together with family. This was my maid serving her master.
I surprised myself with my appetite. In spite of the mountain of food in front of me, I was only just satisfied after it was gone. I flexed my arm and could almost feel it getting stronger, the new influx of calories being put to immediate use to continue rebuilding my body into the best it could be.
It made me want to do more research. Take some blood samples, run more simulations, discover just what was going on inside of my body.
But for the first time in my life, I had another drive competing with my intellectual curiosity. After the meal, I didn't even make it upstairs to my room. I had Elle pinned against the wall, one foot standing on tiptoe while the other was resting on my shoulder, her flexible legs completely open so I could slam into her pussy hard enough to make the picture frames on the wall start to shake.
"Ohh...Master! Fuck me, breed my slutty pussy! I've been waiting for this all day! Mmmph...thank you, thank you for using me as your cumdoll!" Elle's voice was breathless and soft, her words tight, broken up by moans every time I pushed deep inside of her.
Her thighs were slick with her juices and her pussy was squeezing down on me as if it were trying to suck me in. I didn't last long before my thrusts slowed down and I poured a fresh batch of my cum inside of her.
From there, we moved to the bedroom and took things at a more leisurely pace. I particularly enjoyed lying in bed with her riding my cock cowgirl style on top, the perfect position to enjoy watching her large, perky tits bounce up and down.
All in all, it was a very satisfying evening.
*******
The next morning I awoke alone in bed. Sniffing the air, I could tell that Elle was already making me another homemade meal. She really had become an ideal domestic slave.
That wasn't what had woken me up though. The doorbell was ringing and I could hear a fist beating on it all the way upstairs, both so incessant you'd think whoever was on the other side was being chased by zombies.
I took the time to throw on a shirt and boxers, then hurried down the stairs two steps at a time. It might be Stephanie delivering bad news about the situation with NPC.
Or as I found out upon opening the door, it could be the other thing. Two of the hottest girls I'd ever seen in my life.
"You have to help us!" The stunning redhead I recognized as Kayla. Yesterday, she'd been gorgeous. Today, she was something else entirely. Her breasts had nearly doubled in size since yesterday, even larger than Elle's now. She was wearing one of my father's old button-up shirts and the top few buttons were left undone, impossible to manage so that her cleavage was practically spilling out, her breasts perky and riding high even without a bra.
She'd gained a few inches of height, her hips had widened and become full and child-bearing, and those glossy pink lips looked delectable. She was an Irish goddess made flesh.
"Yeah. You have to. Fix this or I swear I'll beat you so hard you'll regret ever being born." This girl, on the other hand, I could hardly believe my eyes. If I hadn't know the pills would do exactly this to her in the first place, I don't think I would have believed it at all.
Mark, my father, now looked more like a little sister. She stood a full head shorter than Kayla, and even though her C-cup breasts looked large on her skinny, petite frame, I couldn't help but compare them to the majestic orbs I'd seen on Elle and Kayla already. The pink hair was still there, but it remained only at the tips, her face framed by straight locks of beach blonde hair. With her sunkissed tan skin, she looked like she'd fit right in at the beach. There wasn't a trace of masculinity left on her face, her large eyes and thick eyelashes making her seem even more childish; even if she managed to get a new and valid ID, I doubt there was anyone who would believe she was over 21.
She was wearing one of Kayla's long shirts and I wondered if she even had on anything underneath it. I doubted it.
