The Honeypot Ch 02

The muted chirp of Senator O'Neal's cellphone brought her up from the depths of a bright and sunny dream. She clutched at the dream as she woke; rarely were they as happy and simple as the one she was waking from. Usually, she dreamed of huge, dark figures moving slowly across a shattered landscape. She was nearly always being chased by something in those dreams while, around her, people screamed in pain and terror. And, so, she desperately grabbed for the wispy strands of her fading dream while her phone continued to ring.

She sighed when her phone stopped mid-ring. Gray light filtered through the translucent hotel curtains and she knew she'd have to wake up soon. Instead, she pressed her face deeper into the thick, uncomfortable pillows.

Weren't there puppies,

she wondered.

In the dream, I think-

"Senator," came a quiet, respectful voice from the hallway outside her room. After a pause, the figure knocked. "Senator, are you awake?"

Senator O'Neal groaned. Unable to put off her duties any longer, she sat up, her brown hair falling to her shoulders. She yawned, stretching to work out the kinks in her back and shoulders. She stood, naked but for her black panties, and then shivered in the cool morning air. Her left nipple tightened in protest against the sudden lack of warmth. Grabbing her green silk robe, she pulled it on, tying it tightly around her slim waist.

"Senator," the voice called again. "You wanted me to make sure you were awake on time."

"It's okay, Paul," Senator O'Neal answered. "I'm up." She shuffled along the thick carpeting, relishing the way it tickled at her feet. Unlatching the security lock, she opened the door to let her assistant inside. Paul Cox stood impeccably dressed in a suit and tie with his black hair slicked back. "I'll start getting ready if you'll pack my things. My notes are next to the laptop."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll have a limo arriving in roughly an hour but I can delay if you need extra time."

"No," she told him. "It's fine. But, the Town Car, not the limo, please. I've done as much prep work as I can and it's just a simple media event, not a hearing. I'm sure I can handle whatever curveballs come my way from whomever Senator Bowman has planted in the crowd."

"I know you can, ma'am. I'll have everything ready. There's a Starbucks downstairs as well. Sixteen ounce vanilla Frappuccino?"

"Oh, yes. That's absolutely required. Thanks again, Paul."

Senator O'Neal turned away, padding over to the large bathroom. Her silk robe slid along her body as her hips worked. She surprised herself by finding the light touch of the cool fabric to be nearly sensual. Nearly as light and erotic as April's touch. She sighed mentally. It'd been almost a month since she'd seen her lover and their encounters had become increasing secretive as the media decided more and more to try to make her orientation their business. And, thus, the business of the rest of the world. She grit her teeth in frustration. Never mind that almost every week, another state legalized same sex marriage. Never mind that they lived in the 21st century. All that mattered was the supposed sensationalism of the story.

And so, Paul,

she told herself with yet another sigh. Senator O'Neal stood in front of the tri-fold mirror of her bathroom. Untying her belt, she shrugged her shoulders to let her robe slip to the ground. She could hear Paul moving around beyond the closed bathroom door. She counted herself lucky to have him as he seemed honest and genuinely nice - a rare commodity in her line of work. A little less than six months ago, she'd been forced to hire him as her assistant in order to allay more rumors of her sexuality. Of course, people still knew she was gay but quite a few were superficial enough that simply having a male assistant mollified them.

Turning left and right slightly, she looked herself over. Slim, skin still smooth and pale from long days spent indoors. Senator O'Neal ran her hands lightly down her sides and along her narrow hips. She noted a few stray hairs she'd need to trim. Her left nipple was still oddly erect. She poked at it with a cocked eyebrow. April loved her little pink nipples. She looked back at herself in the mirror and, in her mind's eye, her lover appeared behind her. Warm and soft. She could almost feel April's breasts pressing against her back. Her lover was just under six feet tall, nearly half a foot taller than the senator. She'd feel her lover's bush against the gentle curve of her ass as long, smooth arms wrapped lovingly around her, just around her pert, small breasts.

Senator O'Neal groaned quietly as she pictured her lover. She grew wet as she leaned against the bathroom sink, spreading her legs slightly. Her nipples ached, pulsing in time to her heartbeat. April's large hands would slide down her naked back and along her hips, holding her tightly. Senator O'Neal moaned. She worked her hips in small movements, rocking them back and forth against her imaginary lover.

'Mouth or fingers,'

April asked in her daydream. Her ghostly lover's fingertips ran along Senator O'Neal's spine and the women shivered at her touch. She could feel her wet lips rubbing slightly together and she spread her legs further apart while arching her back.

"No," Senator O'Neal whispered with her eyes closed. She felt a heat, deep within herself. It burned from her chest to her stomach to her pussy. She was nearly feverish with it and swore her lips were swollen. Her lover's mouth would feel amazing but only on the surface and she ached so badly deep inside. Fingers.... they could never reach far enough. She needed to be filled. She had to be opened wide, to have every inch inside of her wetness touched. The senator whimpered. She ached so badly. She was so empty. "The... no. I need more. I don't... god... I..."

Her soaking wet pussy lips separated slightly. Senator O'Neal could barely breathe as the fire raged through her body, burning out rational thought. Her hand reached between her legs of their own accord and the woman's knees trembled as all five of her fingers touched her swollen mound. She held her fingers together, turning her wrist to reach as well as she could.

Senator O'Neal's fingers slid easily between her engorged lips. She'd never been so wet in her entire life. She buried her fingers past her second knuckle. Her hips dropped from the sudden sensation and she almost collapsed to her knees. Beads of sweat broke out along her brow and she gasped for air, her voice making small squeaking noises.

It wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. She couldn't do more with her fingers from her awkward angle. Senator O'Neal whimpered again. Her mind struggled against the heat. She needed to be fucked. She needed to be filled. Her whole body ached until she could feel it in her teeth.

As she frantically tried to fuck herself with her fingers, small bones popped in her hips. Senator O'Neal kneeled on the ground in front of the sink and then rolled to her side, gasping for air with her legs spread and her hand frantically pumping between her legs. Bones cracked around her tailbone, fragmenting, and she couldn't feel a thing. Her ears roared, burning to their tips and her mouth worked soundlessly. Muscle and fat tissue pushed gently at her waist.

Rolling to her chest and knees, Senator O'Neal arched her back again, raising her ass as she tried desperately to find a position that would allow her to push deeper. Above her fingers, skin bulged slightly. Her nearly non-existent ass expanded. The senator rocked her new hips hard while she fucked herself, face to the cold ground. Her taut, petite ass was gone. Now, her ass cheeks slapped together wetly while she frantically worked her fingers.

Senator O'Neal's nipples brushed over and over against the ground. Her nipples, small and pink, thickened, doubling in size. Slowly the nipples pushed closer to the ground as her breasts filled. Her small b-cup breasts grew to c-cup and the nipples dragged along the cool tile, back and forth, driving the young woman even more wild. Her breasts bulged further, adding a cup size until the skin and nipples flattened against the ground.

Her orgasm eluded her. Her fingers weren't enough. Not nearly enough. She ached so deep inside that she didn't think she could reach it even if she were able to fist herself. Her mind was savage, lowered. It had one need. The senator pushed herself back up to her knees. Her right hand was completely covered in her thick cum and she absently sucked at her fingers. She sat back on her heels with her larger, softer ass. Her nipples were low and painfully erect on her firm breasts. Senator O'Neal's eyes searched the bathroom. Nothing looked right. The bathroom soap bottles were far too small. The head of the hotel hair dryer was too short. Nothing had knobs and nothing was long or thick enough or....

Paul,

she thought. Her mind was wild. Chaotic. All rationality was gone, scrambled by the heat she felt.

He could. He could fuck me. Oh fuck. He's got a cock and he could press it deep into my web pussy until I felt the end of it against my body. God. Hot and hard and thick. He has to. He has to do it.

She reached eagerly for the door but her hand stopped an inch away. She frowned at it, lips turning into a pout as she tried to understand why she stopped. She stared at her hand. The light reflected slightly off of the clear cum coating her hand. The bathroom, as large as it was, smelled strongly of sex and she could feel how slick her thighs were from it.

Her body ached for an orgasm. It demanded to be fucked senseless and she was panting from the need. She knew that all she had to do was open the door and Paul would be there. She knew it, even through the fuzz in her brain.

But, she couldn't. Her hand wouldn't move. Slowly, ever so slowly, the ache melted away, focusing into a ball in her stomach. As she sat, her thighs thickened. Her smooth skin tightened as her legs swelled to match her larger ass and hips. The effect was subtle enough that she didn't notice.

"What," she gasped. "What am I doing? I almost..." Senator O'Neal came back to herself as a thin line of blood dripped from her nose. She felt drugged and slow, as if recovering from a night of heavy drinking. The young woman pressed her hands to her stomach but the ache wouldn't go away. It hurt but it also made her want to wriggle her hips a little. The feeling was not unlike someone biting on her nipple, painful and pleasurable all at once. The senator struggled to her feet, swaying under a new weight and center of balance that hadn't existed minutes away. Her larger breasts lay flat against her chest and she massaged them gently. They were sore to the touch and the massage felt good. Too good. When she felt the ache starting to expand again, she dropped her hands and shivered.

Senator O'Neal started her shower, feeling the water until it ran hot enough for her tastes. She breathed in the steam and sighed as it helped to clear her mind. Blood fell unnoticed from her nose in small drops, quickly vanishing under the hot steam. The young woman stepped in carefully, bowing her head under the hot water. The last few minutes were unclear in her mind, slipping away as if they were a fading dream.

"That was terrifying," she told herself. Her hands worked soap along her body, slipping along her hips and along her ass. Something tugged at her thoughts but vanished when she tried to focus on it. The water and soap felt wonderful along her body. She cleaned carefully along her still swollen pussy lips, ignoring the ache that threatened to escape from her stomach.

She knew she was stronger than the urge to touch herself. That whatever happened was just her missing April and the stress from... from... from what? What was she doing? The... thing. There was a thing. A meeting? With a group of people. They... what? Her fingers explored her sex carefully, fingertips along the edge, lightly tracing just on the inside. A single finger dipped between her slick lips. Muscles along the length of her vagina tightened. A second finger joined the first and her pussy gripped both fingers greedily.

The people... they... people...

Senator O'Neal froze.

No. No, this isn't right.

A polite knock made her squeak, a sudden rush of fear pushing away her need to cum. "Senator O'Neal? We have thirty minutes until we need to leave. I've laid some clothes out on the bed and I'll be waiting outside."

"O... okay!" the senator answered. Pieces of it came back to her. She was supposed to meet with people to talk about something that happened. She'd spent the night before writing down notes and things to talk about. It was important. It was... right. Senator Bowman. And the money he'd accepted for turning a blind eye. More details followed the others until she remembered what she was supposed to be doing. The ache retreated once more and the senator hurried through the rest of her shower.

After her shower, she ran on autopilot, toweling off, drying her short brown hair and then she stopped. She couldn't find her makeup kit. While the bathroom was large, there weren't many places her kit could've gone and, with a quick look, she couldn't find it anywhere. The young woman stamped her foot, pouting.

How in the world can I go out without makeup?

Another line of blood fell from Senator O'Neal's nose, tickling slightly as it trailed down to her lips. She absently wiped at it with the back of her hand.

"Senator Bowman," the young woman said in near sing-song. "Bow. Man. Sen. A. Tor." She leaned forward to examine her face. A few small wrinkles at the corner of her eyes and mouth made her frown. She pushed her thin lips out, plucking at them with her fingers. She'd never noticed how severe her lips made her look. "Senator Bowman and the Ethics Committee," she sang, to the tune of 'Baby Beluga'. "Spend so hard and... and...take money." The young woman giggled at her own joke while she touched various parts of her face.

With a heavy sigh, Senator O'Neal opened the bathroom door to step out into the main hotel room. It was warmer now as she walked around the room. The only things left behind were her purse, her packed suitcase and a dark outfit laid out on the bed. She pursed her lips at it. A long, dark skirt with a white button-down shirt and gray jacket. Sensible black pumps faced way from the foot of the bed.

"Boring," she said to the empty room. Stepping over to her suitcase, the young woman stared at it, contemplating whether she should find other, brighter clothes to wear. She frowned. Her clothes were tightly packed and the thought of re-packing the suitcase seemed far too difficult. Instead, she grabbed a pair of black panties and simple white bra from the suitcase's large zippered pocket.

Humming a mindless tune, the young woman stepped into her panties and pulled up, working her wider hips back and forth. The silky material slid past her smooth, larger thighs, pulling tightly between her legs. Senator O'Neal hooked her fingers under the edge of her panties to spread them out, covering the exposed, rounded cheeks of her ass. She twisted her hips left and right, admiring how the fabric clung to her larger frame. It seemed...

right

somehow.

The bra wouldn't fit. The young woman struggled with it, pulling and twisting and grunting until finally giving up. She tentatively held the bra against her breasts and looked at herself in the mirror. The wireframe of the small bra centered and covered her enlarged areola and nipples and some of the surrounding skin but that was all. Her heavier, rounded breasts made the bra look like something a stripper would wear to barely cover her nipples while still showing everything off.

"What the hell?" Senator O'Neal whispered. She dropped her bra and then cupped her breasts, feeling their weight. Still looking in the mirror, she suddenly realized how different she looked. Her midsection gently curved away into hips that, turning to the side, flared into an ass that belonged on a larger woman. A larger woman that spent her days on the stair climber at the gym. Her thighs and lower legs matched her hips and ass, subtly thicker. "Oh god, what the he-"

Senator O'Neal cried out, falling to her knees. Blood dripped to the carpet, falling freely from her nose. She trembled, leaning heavily on her hands. Sweat broke out along her hairline and a wave of nausea rippled from the top of her head to her stomach. The young woman swallowed twice, fighting back the sudden, hard urge to vomit. Pressing the back of her hand to her mouth, she closed her eyes. Her thin lips filled out against her hand. Skin swelled slowly as the skin stretched into full, pouty lips. Senator O'Neal shuddered and then stood on shaky legs.

"Eww," she said, staring at the blood on the back of her hand. The young woman walked to the bathroom and her hips swayed in hypnotic motions as if she'd been born to them. She cleaned herself off quickly and returned to her clothes. The young woman quickly picked up her skirt to struggle into it.

A quiet knock came from the front door. "Five minutes, ma'am," Paul said.

"Oooookaaaay," Senator O'Neal sang out. The fabric of her skirt strained slightly against her hips and she found she couldn't pull the zipper the entire way. She pulled as far as she could and then left it. Her shirt was easier. Senator O'Neal had no interest in wearing tight clothing in order to give the media any more ammunition or to flaunt her sexuality. And, so, she was able to button the shirt without trouble. Her new fat nipples tented the fabric and she bit her full lips at the feeling of the shirt rasping against her body. Gaps showed through the shirt around the buttons and did nothing to hide her larger chest.

Finally, Senator O'Neal pulled her dark jacket on. She twirled and then giggled. Looking at herself in the mirror, she struck a pose, fingers pointed out into the shape of a pistol. "Samantha O'Neal! FBI!" She told her reflection. Her breasts swayed alarmingly as she turned.

Biting back her giggles, the young woman zipped up her suitcase and grabbed her purse.

"Time for serious business," she said, walking to the door with her wheeled suitcase.

A small pool of blood, flecked with pink surrounded her old, small bra as she closed the hotel door behind her.

-----

Robert woke and groaned. His head spun and the light through his windows stabbed daggers into his eyes. His tongue and the rest of his head felt as if they'd been wrapped in thick bandages. He stared at his bathroom through watery eyes while trying to mentally will the bottle of aspirin from the medicine cabinet onto his nightstand.

Although the day wasn't as hot as it promised to be later, he'd somehow sweated through his clothes. With a sigh and his eyes closed against the impending crushing headache, the man rolled and sat up. Sharp pains lanced through his templates and he ground his teeth against the feeling. His first thought was to eat the entire bottle of aspirin while his second was to shower. The damp clothes clung to him and he felt particularly sensitive to the way they touched his skin. His nipples were sore, as if he'd gone for a jog and his sweat-soaked running shirt had rubbed his nipples raw.

The ache in his head migrated to his jaw and he stood, ignoring the pain. Robert clicked on the TV as he made his way to his bathroom, staring at the world through half-closed eyes. He quickly shook a handful of pills into one hand and then bent down to take a mouthful of water from the bathroom sink. Titling his head back, he dropped the pills into his mouth and swallowed. Leaning forward on the counter, he waited for the pain to subside, totally oblivious that he'd swallowed six large pills and a mouthful of water without choking.