Incubus Pupa Ch 04

Disclaimer: All characters engaging in sexual activity are 18 years of age or older

*****************

A couple of days later in the evening, my phone alerted me that I'd received a text from a number I didn't recognize.

'Poke'

Hmm. I didn't remember giving Sandy my number, but she seemed the most likely explanation, so I checked the slip of paper she gave me. Sure enough...

Well, she's resourceful, I'll give her that.

I stared at the phone, undecided as to whether I should finally call her. What was I going to say? It still hadn't resonated that she wanted to out with me on Friday. I probably should have at least asked what the plan was.

A moment later, I got another text.

'Hey'

, and then a second later,

'Poke'

I got the sense that this was going to go on until I responded, so I sent back

'Poke??'

'Yeah. Poke. Like, u need to call me'

Okay, weird... I sighed inwardly. Here goes nothing...

I punched the call button, scrambling for something to say, but would learn soon enough that I needn't have bothered.

She answered before the first ring was done. "Finally! I swear, Adam Connor, you've been ghosting me for three days! Why haven't you called?"

"Sorry! I had a lot of stuff going on tonight"

"Stuff? What stuff?" Was that a hint of suspicion?

"Yeah, like homework and stuff?"

Her voice lifted. "Oohhh, yeah, okay.

That

stuff."

"Hey, I forgot to ask you earlier -- where are we going on Friday? Should I plan on getting dressed up?

"And by the way, how did you get my number? I don't think I gave it to you."

"Don't worry about that. Yeah, you definitely need to look nice. We're going to this sick club downtown. Stephanie's big sister is dating the bouncer there. He gets us in."

"Ohh, okay. Yeah, that sounds cool."

Clubbing? Really? I hated clubbing. Expensive, noisy as fuck, and I'd have to dance. Not exactly my idea of a good time. It'd be hot and sweaty. A huge crowd of people all pressing in on one another. Well now... On second thought, maybe this wouldn't be all bad with someone like Sandy. I pictured her curves in one of those strapless mini dresses with a long slit up one side, showing off miles of supple thigh.

"Aaaaa-daaam... Helloo? Are you paying attention to me?"

I wasn't.

"Sorry, my...Mom asked me something."

"Well, I was

ask

-ing if you saw my insta post this afternoon."

"I haven't. I don't do the whole social media thing. I mean, I have accounts, but I don't post anything."

"Oh, well, you should check it out. I...hope...you...like...it." she sing-songed, then immediately bulled on. "So, guess what Amy told me yesterday? It's so crazy. I can't believe it."

I paused, expecting her to tell me the big news, but she just waited, apparently serious about wanting me to guess. Really? Why the hell would she think I would want to guess about something someone I didn't even know would say?

"Uh, I don't know." I said, but realized after a split second that I sounded irritated, quickly adding, "what?" in a higher pitch.

"Oh-em-gee, she told me that her Dad was going to buy her a car! Isn't that lit?"

Sigh, I was quickly learning the reality that possibly dating (

were

we dating?) the hottest cheerleader in our school could be. She was still talking as my thoughts rolled on, but it no longer appeared to matter that I wasn't paying attention because she pretty much held the conversation by herself.

"So then he says..."

I tuned her out, figuring that I'd distract myself from her adolescent rambling about which actors she thinks are hot and the latest annoying and disgusting thing her brother did. I pictured her on the dance floor, giving me a sultry look over her shoulder as she dipped and swayed. That gorgeous ass a prominent curve from her back down to her slender thighs. A hefty bulge in her top peeking at me from the side as she lured me in with a sinuous finger.

As my mental peep show played out, I'd occasionally gift her with an "uh-huh" or an emphatic "ohhh, yeah" to acknowledge something or other she was saying, but I clearly wasn't doing it flawlessly. She had to re-ask more than a few questions.

I wanted to steer us back to the topic she claimed to want to talk about before school this morning -- those feelings she got when I looked at her. But I needed her to bring it up. Asking about it myself would make me sound pretty skeezy, like I'm only talking to her because of her smoking hot body. Which, come to think of it, might not have been entirely untrue.

Twenty minutes later, I just couldn't take any more of the gossip mill churning about people I didn't even know, so I lied and told her that my Dad was kicking me off the phone until I work on my college applications, but it only enticed her to talk about her own aspirations.

"Oh, I want to get into Barnard next year. I think I want to live in the city. Shelly says she thinks I will get in. She knows this girl that got in last year and I have

way

better credentials than she did."

I cut her off a few seconds later.

"-Oh, nice. Well, sorry Sandy, I really gotta go. I'll talk to you later."

I hung up.

Man, that was a little draining, if I was honest with myself. The thing was, I knew Sandy was smart -- she was in some of the same classes as me -- but she seemed to be mired in the role of the gossipy cheerleader. She wasn't always that way. We'd been acquaintances for years, both having grown up in Fairfield. Her bubbly personality and quirky attitude used to be cute, but she must have changed with the introduction of boys into her social circle.

Idly, I wondered what it must be like for those super attractive and popular people that had groups form up around them naturally throughout life. I doubted she even sought out all that attention; at least not at first. She might have hung with the egotistical crowd, but I'd never seen her demean anyone like some of her friends did.

Deep down, I bet the old Sandy was still in there, somewhere. Maybe I could do something one-on-one with her and get the real Sandy to show up.

Oh well, I guess I'd better take a look at those applications.

******************

The next several days flew by pretty quickly, which was surprising considering how anxious I was about Friday night.

Christine texted me a few times, asking when she could see me again. I told her I had some time this coming weekend if she was around. She was, and making plans to get together seemed to satisfy her, but she persisted in sending me kissy emojis and happy little nothings, like

'Thinking about u. Can't wait for this weekend!'

throughout the week.

She was such a sweetheart. I didn't know her that well, but I was getting the impression that she had a very loving personality.

My body continued to change day by day. By midweek, my cock had grown to almost eight inches, with a commensurate increase in girth. I could still wrap my hand around it, but just barely. I'd always thought of eight inches as sort of the unofficial lower bound to 'huge dick' territory, so I was hoping I could eek past that barrier.

My balls were bigger too. They looked to be about the size of small eggs (not those 'Grade A Jumbos' you get at the grocery store), and I could feel their weight tugging down on my sack when they dangled freely. A very odd sensation. Hopefully, it would disappear as I got used to it.

The biggest issue now was positioning the damned things in the narrow space between my legs without crushing them. Moving quickly was a careful tap dance where every misstep was quite painful.

I'd read fetish stories on my favorite smut site about guys sporting testicles of

ludicrous

proportions. Seen terms like 'softballs' and 'grapefruit' thrown around. But I suspected that these authors hadn't had to deal with the logistics of such a reality. And while the freak in me got a sick thrill of imagining what a guy could do with factories like

those

in his drawers, I desperately hoped this growth thing wasn't going to continue until I found out just what that would be like.

As it was, I had to line them up in tandem to walk comfortably. By Wednesday night, the lack of support from my boxers drove me to hit up Wal-Mart for a pack of boxer briefs. That helped a lot.

Gratefully, the pain and pleasure spells had stopped since I had sex with Christine, but other changes started to occur in their place.

As I was lathering up in the shower one morning, I noticed my chest looked a bit more defined than I remembered it. I had always been lean. My parents were strict when it came to foods - they enforced healthy portion control and a balanced diet. I also ran track in the spring and enjoyed the outdoors, so my body fat was relatively low, though I certainly wasn't what you'd consider ripped. But when I ran the soap over my abs that morning, they didn't feel as featureless as before. I could faintly see their ridges.

Getting out of the shower, I gave myself a more careful inspection in the mirror. My pecs were definitely more than just a vague notion of chest muscles now, and flexing, I saw that my triceps had developed that cut shape that bodybuilders had. Sweet! I'd have to start wearing shorter-sleeved t-shirts.

But that wasn't all. When I showered, I noticed some of my pubic hair near the drain. Checking myself over again, I saw that the thatch of hair at my groin was noticeably thinner, and my balls were now naked. The wispy hair on my lower back was almost gone, and even my pit hair looked thinner. The hair on my head seemed unaffected, but if the trend continued, it looked as though I'd soon be hairless from the neck down. I wasn't quite sure how I felt about that.

Lastly, even my face looked different. Not

much

different, but more...mature, or something. Maybe it was my jaw? It looked a little wider, I thought. Hard to say, but it was a good look.

I'd searched WebMD and a few other websites offering self-diagnosis, but none of them gave me any kind of clue what this could be. I had no choice other than to let this play out and see what the future had in store. I hoped I didn't have some kind of strange cancer. Aside from some of the early pain I'd experienced (most of which had stopped), none of the symptoms were particularly concerning.

**************

I somehow made it to Friday night without dropping in on Christine or going out and trying to pick up a new piece of ass. It was a little test of mine -- to see how long I could hold out until it became unbearable. By Wednesday, it was a near thing, especially with Sandy sending me nightly selfies of outfits she was considering for Friday.

I nearly caved when she sent another pic on Thursday night. The little vixen had laid a pair of slinky dresses on her bed, asking

'which would look better on me?'

in the caption. It happened to 'accidentally' reveal her dresser mirror reflecting Sandy in a sultry pose wearing nothing more than a matching lavender bra and thong.

She was

killing

me, but I held firm.

Now, getting myself ready for our date, I must have spent 45 minutes considering what I should wear. I knew all too well how she would be dressed, so I didn't want to look like a slob, but my wardrobe was 90% t-shirts and jeans, most of which didn't look 'club' enough.

Eventually, I settled on one and added a pair of fitted jeans. Putting everything on made it clear how much my body had changed. After stuffing my package into the jeans alongside a maxi-pad I took from my mom's supply (the best idea I could come up with to deal with all the pre), I sported a noticeable -- but not obscene -- bulge. The shirt clung to my biceps and pecs nicely as well. The result, I hoped, was more 'sexy' than 'I bought the wrong size'. Yeah, it might have been a little grungy looking, but I know I'd seen Adam Levine rock this look in some of his videos, and if it was okay for People's sexiest man alive 2013, I figured it would work for me too.

I rolled up to Sandy's parent's house -- a ritzy upper middle-class two-story colonial with a beautifully landscaped lot -- at five minutes till 8 pm. I was late. She had told me to show up at 7:30 to give us a little time to talk before her other friends showed up, but I was too busy second-guessing all my wardrobe choices.

Waiting for someone to answer the door, I admired her picture-perfect neighborhood. It was one of those with larger lots, so the houses weren't right on top of one another. The wide strip of lawn between the sidewalk and street had mature oak trees lining it, giving the whole block a stately air.

Just then the door opened, and I caught a glimpse of Sandy's Mom. She was classically beautiful, impeccably dressed, and manicured. Sandy must have inherited her boobs from her dad's side of the family though, as she was slight up top. Still, I couldn't help taking in the fitted skirt that was on the short side of decorum for a woman of her age. She had some lovely hips. I would have felt bad checking her out, but she didn't shy away from giving me a good glance over either. She grinned.

"Well, hello there. You must be Adam."

"That's right...Mrs. Mathers?"

"It's Deborah, please! Well, come in!" she opened the door further and welcomed me into the foyer.

She really did have a beautiful smile. Sandy got it honest.

"Okay then...Deborah. Is...Sandy here?"

"Oh! Yes, of course! I think she's just about ready." She started across the bright two-story foyer with marble tile floor and chair rail with wainscoting, entreating me to follow with a wave of her arm. "She's up in her room; this way."

Naturally, I couldn't help checking out Deborah's pert backside and incredibly toned, muscular calves as she slowly (a little

too

slowly) made her way up the stairs. Soon enough we came to Sandy's room.

"Sweetie, your friend is here." She called through the door before knocking softly and pushing the door open.

I heard a bang from within along with the sounds of a teenage girl bounding across the room. A split second later, Sandy was right before me wearing one of the gorgeous little black dresses I had seen in some of the photos she'd teased me with. My green-eyed date beamed, and her excitement was palpable as she grabbed my arm and drew me in. I briefly turned around, catching her mom mouth "

He's

c

ute!

" behind her hand.

She turned to go. "You kids behave! And let me know if you need anything." her voice floated up from the stairway down the hall.

Then we were alone.

Sandy's room was...for lack of a better word, eclectic. I'd been in teen girl's bedrooms before, including Ella's, but this was on a whole other level. Every inch of free space seemed to be occupied by photos, artwork, shelves with sentimental-but-otherwise-worthless knick-knacks, collages, and so much more. It was like she had some kind of gigantic bin in her closet full of "girl stuff" and about a million photos of her with her friends, and she was determined to fill every square inch of shelf-, desk-, or wall-space with it in the most artful way possible. Her bed, of course, was a frilly thing that seemed to suit her perfectly. A queen size, of course, for what was probably daddy's princess.

"I'm sorry, I know I'm running behind." She said, "But I guess you are too." Leveling a disapproving look at me, she quickly got over it, sitting down at her vanity while facing away from me.

"Have a seat, I'm almost done with this."

I sat on her bed, having to move several of the outfits I had seen modeled in photos over the last several days. Watching the untouchable Sandy Mathers primp herself, I could hardly believe it was all for a date with

me

.

Spying a few pairs of very lacy and/or sheer underwear cast carelessly across the bed amongst the throw pillows, I decided to be bold. I picked up a particularly diminutive black thong, holding it up as if I had no idea what it was. I smirked into her mirror. She was applying eyeliner when she happened to glance in the mirror to check on me and saw the smirk on my face.

Sandy launched herself out of her chair and snatched the thong out of my hands, quickly collecting the rest of the underwear and stuffing them into a drawer.

"Adam!" she sounded scandalized. Her cheeks colored, surprising me. I found it adorable that she could even

be

embarrassed.

"Wasn't supposed to see those yet..." I heard her say under her breath.

"Hey, it's no big deal. My sister used to leave that stuff lying around all the time when she was living at home."

"

Not

the same thing."

Well, that was a good sign. She returned to her beautification process.

"Oh my God, Adam" she murmured distractedly, "tonight is going to be

so

much fun. You don't even know."

The sexy curve of her ass drew my eye like a magnet, spreading across the stool she sat on. Every inch of her was lovely. I admired the graceful way she applied her makeup, each stroke practiced and sure.

Realizing I was staring, I tried to regain the thread of the conversation, such as it was.

"Mhm. Yeah, I'm pretty stoked." I rambled. "How many of your friends are coming with us?"

"Most of them couldn't make it, so it's just seven of us tonight, including me and you."

I was relieved that it wasn't going to be a massive group. A minute later she finished with her makeup and bent over to slip on her heels.

Then she came to me and bade me stand, seeing me for the first time without the distraction of getting ready. As she leaned in for a hug and pecked my cheek, I felt the paradoxical firm-and-soft sensation that only large, youthful breasts can have. I didn't expect such a familiar welcome, but only lost a moment before returning her embrace, boldly feeling the sinuous line of her back where it met her shelf-like upper glutes. The heady scent of her herb-infused shampoo and exotic perfume coupled with the sublime feel of her body made the moment seem surreal. Christine was one thing. She was still out of my league, but not by that much. Sandy was a whole different story. I'd never dreamed that I could get a woman this fine.

She stepped back to look over my outfit. I looked underdressed next to her, but it didn't look like she was bothered by it. She put her hands on my shoulders, palming them to feel my delts. Sandy murmured her approval, trailing fingers down over my chiseled upper arms.

"Mmm, where have you been hiding

these

?" she squeezed my biceps. "Have you been working out?" Her eyes sparkled with interest.

"Not especially." I shrugged. "Just weight training class at school."

"Oh, well, I was going to get on you for not wearing something a little nicer, but you look

hot

in that." Eyes glittering, she tilted her head, bangs falling from behind her ear to drape across her face.

Checking out the rest of me, I caught her eyes widen when they crossed my beltline. Her inspection halted there. "Mmm...and those jeans," she licked her lips, "fit

just right

."

Just then we heard the doorbell ring. She shook off her stupor and grabbed my hand, jerking me toward the door to bring me downstairs.

She waved her mom off as we arrived in the foyer, opening the door to two girls and a guy. All three looked as though they could be fashion models for The Gap -- thin, beautiful, and suffering from an acute case of resting bitch face. I recognized one of the girls as a member of Sandy's posse from school. Amy, I thought her name was. The other two I didn't know. The instant they realized I was there, I saw the gears turning in the unfamiliar couple's heads: 'Who is

this

loser?' 'Is he coming with

us

?' 'What is he

wearing

?'

Sandy gave each an ass-out hug in turn, and a little kiss on the cheek to her bestie. Still holding hands, the two of them pulled aside to whisper animatedly to each other while I stepped forward to introduce myself to the strangers. I could feel Amy and Sandy's eyes on me as they giggled and carried on.