Second Changes - Maggie

1...2...3...4...

Maggie stopped to catch her breath during her morning-turned-afternoon exercise. Her lungs burnt, filled with gunk that she kept hacking up. Whatever Annie had brought to work, Maggie now had too. She opened her eyes and took a deep breath.

5...6...7...8...9.

She stopped again, heaving. She told herself that the stretch was waking her up, giving her energy. Her body responded that no, it wasn't, and demanded she get back in bed, safe under a blanket or two. Maggie pushed up into a plank position and counted.

1...2...3...

She collapsed onto her bounteous breasts, sending a painful jolt throughout her chest. Maggie groaned, then coughed up some more gunk as she rose. Her yoga pants groaned to remind her how fat her ass was getting; she self-consciously slipped them off.

Maggie spit her loogie into the bathroom sink, coughed up another, then rinsed out the sink and her mouth with some tap water. Her clothes went on the floor, and she went in the shower to enjoy the steam.

Afterwards, she felt a little better. The fog of congestion had subsided a bit, but now the apartment air felt even colder. She climbed into a pair of pink pajamas and the thickest sweater in her closet. The fabric was irritating, so she took it back off, pulled on a tank, then slid the sweater back over it all. Finally, she slipped on a pair of socks and her fuzziest slippers. Satisfactorily warm, Maggie proceeded to find lunch.

Bacon and scrambled eggs, so easy that a shitty cook like Maggie could make them. And so she did. Michael could certainly cook, having done so on their second date. Grilled chicken with a special spice rub and made from scratch mashed potatoes: the meal was so sexy she'd almost dropped to her knees as soon as she smelled the pepper. Instead, she kept her legs crossed, had a great dinner, then half-watched a movie as they made out. After he was good and worked up, she had a salty, cock-flavored dessert. Then, she left. Tonight, she hoped to stay over, but that was certainly up to Michael.

The food was gone quicker than it had come. Still hungry, she threw a couple more strips of bacon in the pan. In the already hot grease, they didn't take long. She chewed on them as she made her way to her couch to relax. Meanwhile, Maggie found a playlist on her Apple TV and laid back. She silently asked herself what she was going to wear.

Maggie had busted out the big guns on the 1st date: a tight black shirt, a tight pair of jeans, and a daring pair of heels. It made the intended impression. When he politely and frequently moved his eyes back up from her balletic body, he found her pretty, freckled face and big blue eyes waiting for him. She'd smile to let him know it was okay; the embarrassed look he gave her was utterly adorable.

For the second date, going into his house, she'd worn something from school: a green blouse and a white sweater with a black, knee-length skirt. Still cute, but less inviting, for safety sake. She wanted to get laid, not raped. The schoolteacher outfit had even felt a little dirty. Naughty.

Need to get a pair of glasses to go with it. Tell him I'm gonna have to give him an F for...fucking...or something...

She laughed, then coughed. Maggie sat up to get a breath. She wanted to sleep, but sleep would just bring on the cold. A cold would fuck up her Saturday; it could even stop her from getting fucked. She needed caffeine. Maggie grabbed her keys and left.

* * *

When the car honked behind her, Maggie jumped, then pressed the accelerator hard. She shook her head again to wake up. Her whole body was starting to ache, the cold aggressively trying to subdue her; her concentration was in tatters. The coffee from Terri's helped, but she was still losing the fight.

Hungry, she pulled into Wanda's drive-thru, and ordered two steaming cups of chili, a Bacon Bacon Cheeseburger plus fries and a Dr. Pepper. She picked at the fries, unable to resist having just one more again and again. Some of her energy started to return; the grogginess subsided.

Maggie spotted a liquor store and pulled into its lot. She pulled her hair back into a sloppy pony tail, and pushed on a pair of sunglasses to cover her dilated, bloodshot eyes before getting out.

The only apparent employees were two guys stocking a shelf; they briefly broke off their conversation, then continued as Maggie scanned the aisle markers. She spotted the whiskey on the aisle beside them.

"Take 95 out a few miles, the road curves, there's a hill shaped like two tits, with a tree right on top of each like a nipple, and one in between like a dick...I'll have to show you," one of them, an absolute, pimple-faced nerd, was saying. "It's dark, and kinda scary, but no one can see you..." He noticed Maggie; his bespectacled eyes skimmed her body as he grinned. "How are you doing today?"

"Good," she said. Maggie sniffled, for emphasis. "Just sick."

"That sucks," he said. "Guess you got the day off, huh?"

"Yup," Maggie replied. She found a nice, big bottle of cheap stuff that she liked and headed for the front counter. Her geeky admirer followed her. Up close, she could see his name tag said "Eric".

"Gotta check your ID," he said as he pulled up the register. She handed it to him. His grinned then sheepishly tried, "You're 29?"

"Yeah," she said, nonchalantly getting her debit card ready as well.

"You don't look 29," Eric said, handing the license back to her as he took her card.

"Thank you," she said with a smile.

"What do you do?"

"I'm a teacher." She pointed to her red nose. "Guess where I picked this up from?"

Eric chuckled. He finished the transaction, and Maggie took her bottle from him.

"Have a good day," she said on her way out. She could feel them both still watching her.

The compliment was nice.

In the car, she realized her nipples were apparent through her sweater, and laughed as she laid a hand across her chest to cover them up.

You're welcome.

Maggie mused over the experience as she enjoyed the remainder of her food. She wondered if they'd be jacking it later to thoughts of her. In their fantasy, she'd walk back in, having forgotten something, then accidentally drop her wallet or her purse or whatever. Eric would probably have her bending over, giving him a big, stretched Kitty face. She knew she had a great ass, whether it was getting fat or not. If her mom was any indicator, it'd be nice for years to come.

So Maggie imagined him imagining her bent over, presenting. She'd give him a look over her hip, catching him looking. He'd be so busted. And then she'd smile, and start lowering her pants, giving him a glimpse of those perfect cheeks. Next thing she'd know, he'd be pushing into her slit or her asshole, whichever he preferred.

Maggie giggled at the inappropriate imagined imagining. Her amusement slowly melted into the troubling realization that she was sitting in her car, fantasizing about a guy masturbating...fucking her.

I really do need to get laid...

* * *

Her neighbor, Abbey, was leaving as Maggie arrived back at her apartment; her small boy followed closely behind. Maggie gave him a big smile and a wave, then grinned at her diminutive neighbor.

Or perhaps you're just a tall freak,

she told herself as she greeted Abbey.

"We're heading off to Daddy's for the evening," Abbey said pleasantly. She smirked. "Then Momma's going to figure out what she's doing."

"Have fun," Maggie replied, with a final wave.

The playlist was still playing inside. She screwed the cap off the whiskey, then took a good swill. Fire filled her mouth, plunged down her throat, and smoldered out in her stomach. A pleasant warmth spread out through her body.

Playfully, Maggie tried to sing along with the song, but her usually melodic voice was rendered hoarse and uneven. She coughed roughly, then drank some more. Eventually, she started to buzz, and actually felt crazy enough to dance along. She gave up after a minute, heaving for breath.

Maggie found some pizza rolls in her freezer, then nursed her whiskey bottle as she waited for them to heat up. The alcohol just made her hungrier, but her head was feeling clearer than it had all day, even with the buzz. She devoured the rolls and washed them down with some more whiskey. Then, still hungry, she threw some more pizza rolls on the same plate and started them.

She set the bottle down to adjust her tits. The casual adjustment surpassed her; just touching them made her wince. She was about to lift her sweater to inspect further when more pizza rolls caught her attention. She ignored her boobs, and devoured the food.

Maggie had a snack cake as a dessert, then took her bottle back with her as she returned to the couch. As soon as she hit the cushion, she had a craving for another snack cake, but determined it was too late; she was already comfy. Instead, she filled herself with more liquor. After a few more swigs the bottle was a third gone.

Maggie couldn't find the cap nearby, so she just sat the unfinished bottle on one of her end tables. She sat back, sighed, and enjoyed the buzz and easier breathing. She looked lazily over at a clock, and noted it was getting incredibly late.

The whimsical buzz brought up silly ideas, like wearing her kitty cat costume from two Halloweens ago or just wearing nothing at all. The latter seemed to cut through the bullshit.

Why not just get to it?

she inquired of no one.

Maggie scolded herself, telling her mischievous mind that there was something to like about Michael other than just his body. Like his...something...it was hard to think of right now.

The liquor had gone right in between her legs. Her pussy was already squishy. She teased her lips briefly, then went for her clit. It was too sensitive, so she moved her fingers a little off to the side. She found the sweet spot and sighed.

Michael lingered in her mind as she relished in the sweet sensation. The taste of him in her mouth. She imagined slipping under a table to pull that nice, hard cock of his out and try choking on it. Even better was the thought of flashing him while everybody else went about their business. Maybe somebody would notice, and she'd wink at them. They'd know she was a slut, she'd know she was a slut, Michael would know she was a slut.

Maggie stretched and contorted, moving here and there, her body aglow with warmth and energy; finally, she was able to get right at her clit. The first hint of orgasmic pleasure spread quickly through her body. Her muscles tightened, but she forced them to relax and kept going. Changing it up, she slurped up her fingers while her thumb pressed right above her clit. She melted, and fluid oozed over her fingers. Her sensitive tits ached and tingled; the delight kept building. She panted with effort. Finally, with a long, loud moan, Maggie came.

She closed her eyes, a small smile on her face, and slid a hand back up under her top to lazily trace a nipple. To her surprise, the flesh was wet. She pulled up her tops, and zoomed in on one of her puffy, thick nipples. Small, white spots speckled the otherwise pink flesh. She ran her finger and thumb along the length. The sensation was overwhelming, causing Maggie to gasp and shiver. Her attention immediately turned to the thin discharge on the tip of her finger and thumb. She frowned and cautiously sniffed her digits. It had a sweet and sour smell, not unpleasant but still disgusting. She wiped it on her pants.

Still a bit concerned, but not sure what more to do, Maggie pushed her two shirts back down. She didn't know what to think...so she didn't. Instead, she let herself relax and drift in her orgasmic, alcoholic buzz. Sleep slowly crept up on her...

But Maggie sat up, shaking her head vigorously. She wasn't going to go to sleep. She didn't know what she was going to do, but she wasn't going to do that; the cold would not win. Determination didn't bring ideas though. She stood, looping through the same thoughts again and again, The world seemed a little wobbly, and her tits...Maggie decided she should take a look in her closet. She could get dressed.

Her closet wasn't overflowing, but Maggie had some choices. She immediately eliminated the previous two dates' ensembles. She pushed her "teacher clothes" aside as well. And a few t-shirts. That narrowed it down to a couple dresses, a few skirts, and just a couple tops that didn't look absolutely trashy. She considered each remaining item carefully, working hard through her buzz.

Maggie undressed to her panties. She picked up a bra from the closet floor, secured the hooks across her stomach, before twisting the bra around and pulling it up around her breasts. She gasped at the sharp sensation in her breasts. They were always sensitive after she came, even more today. There was a hot tingle behind her nipples that was very hard to ignore. She snuck a quick squeeze.

She tried one halter-skirt combo, then checked herself in the bathroom mirror. It wasn't too bad, but she thought she could do better. She grabbed her jeans to try instead. The shirt didn't look right with them. She switched back to the skirt, trying to match it with a few more tops before she gave up. She stripped back to her underwear and reached for a silky purple and black dress.

It fit perfectly. Maggie pushed the bra straps off her shoulder, and hid them in the side of the dress. Her cleavage was small, but the dress ran smoothly over the curve of her breasts and hips without clinging too tightly. Her tummy didn't stand out. It looked casual, but sexy. It was perfect.

Satisfied, Maggie returned to her closet, humming along to the song playing in the living room as she quickly decided which flats she wanted to wear. Maggie slipped the dress's straps off, and pushed it down a bit. She contorted herself to unhook her bra, then tossed it aside.

Thick, yellow-white fluid dripped from her nipples. Maggie gasped at the sharp sensation, then grabbed a nipple to inspect it. Another small gush of the sweet smelling substance followed, which Maggie quickly wiped away. Just brushing her nipple made her entire breast turn into pins and needles. She dropped it, and balled her hands into fists as a building pressure behind her nipples released into a hot rapid gush over her stomach.

Maggie gagged and quickly grabbed the nearest t-shirt to wipe the mucous discharge away. Small trickles followed the sudden burst, which were caught by the shirt. In seconds, all discharge had ceased, leaving Maggie shivering and confused.

She walked rapidly to the living room and grabbed the whiskey, taking a long, hard drink. She watched her breasts as she waited for the alcohol to catch up with her. She hesitated to touch them further, then did. Her nipples remained erect and sensitive, but the leaking had apparently stopped.

Maggie slowly staggered back to her closet. The remnant of her discharge was three small wet spots on the carpet. She tossed the t-shirt over the mess, if only to dampen the offensive smell.

Even as toasted as she was, the disgusting ordeal made Maggie realize just how sick she felt. Weak and tired. Her arms and legs felt like they were trembling.

Michael is never off on weekends. You can get through this. Go to the doctor Monday.

Maggie stoically wrapped a strapless bra around her chest, and pulled her dress back on. She fixed it in the bathroom mirror once again. She looked okay, all things considered. The line under her eyes were standing out against her sickly complexion. Her lips were cracked.

She checked the time. It was still a bit early to do her makeup, so she just made sure her makeup bag was open and ready in the bathroom before she returned to the living room. Maggie put off another drink, deciding she needed to sober up a bit. Exhaustion gnawed at her, making her thoughts fuzzy and driving her to the couch. She stayed upright, resisting the urge to lay back, as she knew it would make her sleep. Resistance brought on a headache.

The music grew obnoxious, making her head pound harder, so Maggie switched it off before cradling her head in her hands. It was impossible to think, just sit and breathe. She slowly relaxed, resistance collapsing altogether.

Maggie stood and stumbled, moving almost by instinct into the bedroom. She flopped onto the bed, then made a weak attempt to crawl before her energy wained and she collapsed. Soon she was snoring and dreaming.

* * *

Nude and hot with passion, she lay in a grassy field, panting and calling for satisfaction. Michael and the kid from the liquor store were there, the only important faces in a crowd of blurs. She loved the way the blurs looked down upon her as her two dream lovers took her. Michael and the boy passed her back and forth, laughing and groaning, stuffing her in every hole. Soon, it was just hot, sticky cum pouring over her. She crawled in their cum, enjoying its stickiness passing over her.

Slave. Chattel. Property. Servant. Serf. Thrall.

The words were warm and sticky as the cum. They crawled inside her and made her feel all good inside.

Her massive dream tits began to gush. Thick and white and sweet. Michael and her other lover were back, drinking. Their eyes were dark, black and brown pools staring up at her. Her orgasm neared.

* * *

And Maggie woke up all wet.

Her breath was already short; her muscles felt tight and sore; her crotch was a sticky mess, screaming for satisfaction. Maggie didn't resist. She pushed her panties to the side and went to work on her clit. In moments she had pushed herself over the edge, and was rewarded with a soft, pleasant orgasm.

Maggie dully looked at her bedside clock, and realized she only had 30 minutes before Michael was supposed to pick her up. She slowly stood, then took a whiff of herself. Body odor overwhelmed her nostrils, followed by an unpleasant sour smell. Maggie followed the latter smell to her own chest. Her bra was wet, more than from her light sleep-sweat. Slightly pulling the cup from her tit flesh sent a hot, strong whiff up to her nose.

Michael,

she remembered suddenly, letting the cup go as her arm dropped. Maggie imagined herself opening the door to find him in the hallway grinning. She leapt at him for a kiss, and let him swing her around.

Maggie trundled to her closet, then stripped, letting all the wet garments fall away. Her attention briefly dwelled on the white specks at the ends of her nipples, but she quickly forgot about them as she squeezed into different underwear. She decided to go ahead with a skirt-top combo she'd vetoed earlier. Even after a change, she still reeked, so Maggie bathed herself in body spray until she smelled like a stripper.

Next, Maggie was back in the bathroom, rinsing her face. To her delight, her skin looked much better than earlier. The dark lines around her eyes had faded, and even the small patches of acne scars along her jaw were barely noticeable. Her lips didn't seem as dry and cracked. Maggie zoned in the smooth, creamy feeling of her skin as she ran her fingers over it. She shivered, and returned to the task at hand. She brushed on a little foundation and some mascara, then applied her lipstick. She was done; she looked perfect.

Maggie hummed her way back into the living room, then the kitchen, where she poured herself a small glass of whiskey on the rocks and had a couple cookies out of the cabinet. She was about to have some more when someone knocked on the front door. Maggie's heart nearly leapt out of her chest. She started for the door automatically, quickly checking her breath on the way. She could smell the alcohol, so she headed away from the door as Michael knocked again. She grabbed a mouthwash strip from her purse, then finally went to answer the door.