Chapter 4 - Big Bad & Little Red
I slipped into the alley beyond the back hedge, and quickly discovered that it isn't easy to cut a low profile wearing a wrinkly oversized coat, rolled up trousers and a scarf up above your nose - at least not on a warm late-spring day. Not to mention the red high-heeled shoes. I leaned out into the alley and plotted a route from tool shed to garbage can to recycle bin.
Continuous re-plotting took me a fair ways before I managed to literally run into an old man, who gave me a suspicious squint. Unable to mutter apologies, I gave him a wide-eyed nod from behind my scarf, and added a small curtsy. This baffled him enough to let me hustle around the next corner ... and straight into some tall and thorny bushes. Luckily, I was also unable to curse, and managed to push myself out of sight.
I was still considering what to do next when the now familiar crawly sensation returned. I could feel my mouth reorganizing itself, and my throat reopening; my teeth were now growing and my tits shrinking.
I was becoming a man again, a slightly bigger one than the original.
It was a good thing I'd shed the little red dress - as it was, I barely had time to kick off the shoes. I expanded into the thorns until my clothes were tight on me. Importantly, my mouth ran side to side again - I checked with my restored tongue. My face was different enough for me to notice: a heavier jaw, a straighter nose, and wider-set eyes than Mark One Dave. Also, my cock now hung well down my right trouser leg. From the inside, I chose to think that I now resembled James Bond.
The old man seemed to think so - he must have cogitated a bit before electing to follow, and then stepped around the corner just after I'd fought myself free of the vicious shrubberies. He bumped into a sizable (and slightly scratched) man that had replaced whoever it was who'd just cross-checked him ... wearing the same clothes. No further deep thinking was applied. He performed the same wide-eyed curtsy I'd delivered (and added a grunt), then wheeled about back around the corner.
I promptly forgot about him. My summons was coming from beyond the wicked hedge ... specifically, from the basement of a house even older than the one I'd been holed out in, albeit in far better condition. I ducked into the yard, in bare feet, and then put my downmarket black oxfords back on before rescuing the red heels from within the bushes: again, it seemed unnecessary to leave a trail of small mysteries.
This, I thought, shouldn't be too bad. I would perform some minor afternoon kink with a horny housewife ('I'd be delighted to oblige, Miss Moneypenny ...') and then get over to that car rental shop before closing time. I could be tooling home in the closest thing they had to an Aston Martin, right through the night, secure in the knowledge that I wouldn't risk another call to sex until dawn - as per Curse Rules.
Having slipped through a side gate, I was surprised to find an in-ground pool. I stashed my excess winter wear behind some deck chairs, straightened my jacket and unrolled my trouser legs. I also put on my slightly cum-stained tie - which was, I felt, what Bond would wear (although probably not including the splotches).
When I reported to the basement door, it opened to reveal a beautiful teenage girl. She exhibited thick wavy red hair and a pleasing sprinkling of freckles on her face, shoulders, arms ... as well as on her proud chest, round belly and firm thighs. She also sported a faint puff of downy red fuzz between her thighs. I had definitely not expected a naked nymph to step out into the sunshine.
Still, this did not look to be an arduous gig. In fact it occurred to me that in the future I could maybe just hang around colleges each morning to lock-in relatively vanilla fantasies. It's funny how your memory can play tricks on you like that.
"Hiya Daddy, come on in!" Okay ... Unless I'd misheard 'daddy-o' (and probably even then), this had become somewhat perverse; but manageable.
She took my little carry-on (gods know why I'd felt the need to carry something), dropped it by the door and swept her arm to display her home. We were in a beautiful bed sitting room, furnished with antiques which were not of a set, but instead chosen to complement each other. The walls were covered with pictures - not posters, mind you, but etchings and painting, the theme of which could be summed up as Early Naughty. Thick brocade covered the windows, and the coziness of the room was augmented by a completely unnecessary warm fire, in which a crackling log was restrained by the crossed phalluses of a pair of iron lions. Several large mirrors helped out by reflecting the cheerful light around the room.
I stood gaping, and she mimed for me to be quiet by setting a finger in front of her plump lips, then mine. Then she continued her silent instructions by pointing up, arching her back, bobbling her pert little tits with both hands, and finally goose-stepping around the low-ceiling room.
It was entertaining, but I was perfectly baffled, and must have looked it, because she leaned in close and whispered, "Mom's home, silly!"
With that, she knelt in front of me and pulled open my fly. My oversized cock sprang free of its confinement and stood tall for her. I stared at it, surprised by the familiar gold ring penetrating my glans. She just giggled and said, Cool - they match."
I finally clued in - I still wore the golden ring piercings I'd acquired yesterday - it was just that this one had, until this morning, transfixed my clitoris. Probably, I felt, they deflated my Bond persona. But, even as I reached up to the one I knew I'd find suspended from my nose, this girl took a deep breath and engulfed my tool to the hilt in one go. I was impressed, and wondered if I would have been bold enough to swallow a prick with such a big ornament.
