Curses Ch 02

Chapter 2: Fellatrix - What Dawn Brings

In the event I did play with myself, and overslept. Surfacing gradually, I vaguely remembered some sexy-but-weird dreams. And then I took in the pleasant fact that I was lying curled on my side with my hand on my very stiff cock ... while using my tongue to savor a lovely bead of precum on its tip. I hastily threw back the sheets to reveal that, contrary to my expectations, I still was the proud owner of firm tits, a prehensile tongue, and a cunt 'n clit-wang combo. Nothing whatever had changed since the night before. Now what?

If being an unusually equipped girl hadn't worn off yet, it probably wouldn't until my next fantasy gig.

I took stock. Today's meeting was off, which at this point mattered not at all. The real issue was that my flight home was probably off as well. I might somehow manage to pass as the dude on my driver's licence, but the idea of spending two hours confined with a hundred daydreaming people did not appeal.

More immediately, my motel room was due to be relinquished in less than an hour. My first course of action should be to buy more time to think, by booking another night or two. I used my tie to lash my cock up between my breasts, and then pulled on the clean socks and shirt from my carry-on bag (I was travelling light). Once I'd topped off my ensemble with my equally ill-fitting pants and jacket, I went around to the front desk.

Marion's car was gone. I wondered whether she would have remembered me if she'd seen me this morning. I also wondered if she too retained her enhancements (or enchantments). I rather hoped she had, possibly excepting the awkward pregnancy thing. But in my case ...

Somehow I startled myself when I asked the clerk for another day - my voice was, as I should have anticipated, an octave higher than before. It occurred to me that (squealing aside) I had never even bothered to speak to Marion, and she'd only spoken to scold me, first for being late (?!) and then for what she took to be vanity when I'd stared gobsmacked at my reflection (as, possibly, she was this morning).

Naturally there were no rooms available. "It's Friday," the girl at the counter told me, as if that explained everything. She also gave me an odd look ... but it must not have been a sexual one, since I didn't find myself servicing her all the rest of the day. I suspect she was just wondering how she'd failed to notice my gender the day before. Or to notice my limp -- it being damned difficult to walk with that erection.

I tried calling other places for a room but, well, Friday. That left finding a car rental. As it happened, there was one only two miles away ... as the crow flies. Better yet, the crow flew through a residential neighborhood -- so a lower density of potential fantasies.

First, I upgraded my improvised cock-lashing with strips of torn toweling. Packing merely involved stuffing my carry-on with my toiletry bag (comb, toothbrush and razor, although that last item was beginning to look like excess baggage), plus yesterday's underwear and shirt. I was already wearing the rest, such as it was. With bag and briefcase I nervously set off.

I felt self-conscious in the full light of day, but there were only about three commercial blocks before the suburban zone ahead, and hardly any traffic. Who has actionable fantasies before eleven? After which thought, I abruptly swerved into a little dress shop.

"What have you got in a size three?" I had no idea how big that was, but to judge by the way the clerk was looking me up and down, it wouldn't fit... yet. "It's not for me," I claimed. "My um, girlfriend said she'd like something sexy in red. For her, ah, birthday." After another bleak stare at my deeply un-sexy outfit, she went to work.

Mission accomplished, I came away with a skimpy red dress, a black bra and panties combo, and even shoes - all way too small for me. I then crossed the street to a doorway in an alcove. Looking at the buzzer panel (I'd managed to forget about all the apartments above me) I found my summoner: Jenkins, 240.

Jenkins240 buzzed me in without comment, and on the way up I changed into my new dress. It was one of those elevators with big mirrors, so I could see the new me. Essentially like the immediately preceding 'me', really, but with a rounder (and, I'll admit, prettier) face. Also, my smallish nose now featured a sizable gold ring through its base. And, in spite of my smaller frame, I now sported bigger boobs and a wider butt. Also my skin had darkened slightly, to a light caramel shade, and my now black hair was longer and wavy. Most importantly, to my new client, was that my recently acquired clit-staff was gone. I missed it, a little.

When I stepped into the hallway with my stuff, Mr. Jenkins was there to greet me.

He seemed like a regular guy: mid-thirties, a bit short maybe, but pleasant enough. I greeted him with a broad smile, and he led me into his also regular-looking bachelor suite. And my smile was genuine, which was personally unsettling because I knew I was about to get fucked by a guy, which had never been on my bucket list.

"Great dress," he exclaimed, as though he hadn't basically ordered it.

"Thank you, I purred, in a husky voice. "What shall I sing for you, Steve?"

I knew both his name and his answer only just before I'd asked, of course.

"Tina Turner, please!"

I delivered a rather good acappella rendition of Private Dancer while I was undressing him, finishing the tune at the same time I released his fantastic, as it were, erection. Well, I would probably have dreamed up the same thing. His cock was a good foot long and over two inches thick.

After a playful squeeze on his knob, I began to strip, more of a burlesque performance this time. And as before, moving my new body seductively was intuitive. The fact that my pussy had been leaking constantly, pretty much since I'd got in Stevie's door, contributed to the effect. My final reveal surprised me more than him, although it shouldn't have -- a big gold ring matching the one in my nose pierced my clit. I finished my show by using my sodden panties and his cock for a sort of carnal ring-toss; the poor man shuddered with the effort of containing a nearing orgasm.

"What would you have me to do next, Master?" In spite of my startlingly servile question, I managed to act all coy, rather than leaping onto my back in the middle of his bed, legs high and wide. I knew very well what he wanted.

He was a far better lover than I expected, gentle and knowledgeable. Teasing me with a gradual, inch-at-a-time insertion, he kept me in a long state of arousal, agonizingly close to coming, until I was begging him to put me over the edge. When he finally did, I launched into a string of end-to-end orgasms, while he toiled on. It was my turn to nearly pass out - like Marion had - when he at last joined me and pumped his load into my belly. Stubbornly, I chose to blame my curse for my intense pleasure.

After some ensuing snuggles, he pulled his all-but-defeated instrument out of me and stood at the foot of the bed. I sat up, knowing he was ready for a resurrecting blow job. But, smiling, he tugged on my nose ring and led me back to the living room. Actually, he flipped it to the horizontal and flat out pulled me along by the thing - but it didn't hurt at all, or even stretch my skin. It may as well have been anchored in my skull. I should have been annoyed. Once there, he used it to lift my head, and then gazed into my eyes for a moment before winking and releasing me to assume the position. I should have been annoyed ... maybe it was the wink that brought me around.

Having knelt in front of him, I was a bit nervous. Not because I was about to put a man's junk in my mouth, and an unnaturally large one at that - apparently the curse had taken away any concern about that. It was simply that I've always had gag-reflex issues. Tentatively I managed to stretch my lips to accommodate the cum-greased head of Steve's half-masted business. It felt like a giant hot plum in my mouth.

Once I'd gobbled that much, I found a little tongue-work quickly brought his whole apparatus back to life. And thus revived, he slowly started to ease it in and out. To my relief, when his thrusts reached the back of my throat I found I was gag-free ... although so far I'd only taken a third or so of the thing.

We continued on that way for quite a while, Steve's fingers gently woven in my curls to brace my head as he settled into a steady rhythm. Over time I was pleased to find my technique was improving. My teeth and tongue were no longer an issue, and my stretched lips had molded more comfortably around his lovely thick shaft. Also, I'd discovered that if I tilted my head back, just so, I could take even more of his warm cock, surface for air and do it all over.

After a while I realized all I needed to do was to breathe through my nose. At that point I started taking yet more of that mighty wang, since now I didn't need to pull myself all the way free. His pace didn't change but his well-lubricated strokes were now reaching ever deeper. To my slight embarrassment, I realized it felt purely wonderful.

By and by, Stevie drove it home at last - my sensitive nose was smooshed into his curly nest and his balls were pressed hard against my chin. I'd swallowed the whole thing! After a pause, he delivered a few fierce victory strokes, knob to root, before holding his straining tool inside me. What with that and the vibration of that monster against my inner flesh -- from my stretched lips deep down into my throat -- well, I finally lost it. My overpowering orgasm had my whole body in its throes, and as I shuddered, my empty pussy began to spasm, and my throat did likewise, squeezing along the full length of his fat member.

I remember feeling thick drool leaking from between my chin and his testicles, and then the lurch as, with one last hard thrust, my lover finally came himself ... and feeling the sensation of his pulsing fat phallus as it pumped umpteen rounds of jism into me. The notion of swallowing never even entered my mind. For sure I was sucking hard on his meaty hose, but his spunk would simply have surged down into my belly regardless.

We stayed locked together like that for maybe five minutes, while the last of his semen drained into me, before our bodies relaxed. Steve was beginning to exhibit a thousand-yard stare, and I knew our revels were about to end. He let go of my head and gave it a kiss on top, and then he slowly withdrew his still engorged cock from my mouth. Once disengaged, he wandered into his bedroom and I was free to go.

I figured a shower would be a good idea, and so I got unsteadily up to my feet. When I saw in my reflection in the bathroom mirror it became clear why my cock-suckage was such a triumph ... my mouth was now a true cunt. My satin cheeks segued pleasingly into plump vertical ruby lips, the upper edges of which merged in a fetching fold which embraced the top of my still functional button nose -- but which was now an over-sized clitoris, although the gold ring still remained. The bottom of my realigned labia met to snuggle against my petite chin, and the overall effect seemed perfectly natural. I reached up and gently separated the fleshy deep-red petals to expose, under my cute clit-nose ring, my inner set of labia.

Pulling those secret lips apart, I peered inside. Tucked between these lovely guardians was the entrance to a pussy-tunnel. It was still gaping from its carnal exertions, and awash with cum ... lovely, slippery cum. I eased my fingers deeper into my stretchy hole and found that with a little work I could get my whole hand inside to explore. It was in well past my tonsils when my forearm brushed my clit-nose and triggered another come.

I ended up sitting on the bathroom floor with my legs spread, alternately pulling my nose and rubbing the G-spot in the soft flesh where my palate used to be, while likewise groping my lower attributes. I also experimented with simultaneously grinding my palms on each clit while my fingers worked their magic in both upper and lower pussies. That was good for quite a few more orgasms. While I was down there, I also studied that clit ring. It was nearly an inch in diameter, and when I slid it around through my flesh - fuck, I thought, her comes another cum - I was not particularly surprised to find no sign of how it could be opened for removal.

Eventually I got my act together and had that shower. As I scrubbed, I reviewed my limited options. As beautiful as I thought myself to be, I knew I could hardly be seen in public like this. In particular I would be getting hungry soon, cum-dinner notwithstanding (my belly was actually a little swollen from its yummy contents); and dining at the Golden Arches was right off until I'd scored another fantasy to perform.

I also somehow knew that rousing Steve to provide a fresh and more traditional fantasy was not an option -- he'd been perfectly happy with this one. And if I understood the Curse Rules correctly, I couldn't re-up with another client until dawn. Time to move on.