Brian woke up on the bathroom floor and, for a second, completely forgot what had happened. Then he saw the mess on the patterned tile and white walls. Had he really passed out? He looked down and saw that his dick was soft, but still so large he couldn't believe it was his. The sound of the front door opening pierced the silence. "Fuck," he muttered.
One of his roommates was back, probably Kyle. He locked the door and cranked on the shower. As he cleaned up he pondered his condition, the veil of lust now lifted from his thoughts. He was a skeptic by nature. Grounded in reality and doubtful of ghost stories and myth. But there was simply no reasonable way to explain this. He decided to put the "how" aside, it wasn't being helpful. More important was the "why." Only one person could answer that question. Her brief touch and that strange feeling must have been the catalyst for this change. It was the only other vaguely paranormal thing that had every happened to him. Somehow, he needed to find Betsy.
When he finished with the bathroom he hopped into the shower. As he stared at his dick with the water pounding the back of his head, it came to him. His phone! She had used his phone for something. He toweled off in a hurry and got to his room, shouting a hello to Kyle on the way. He threw on some underwear and then realized that they were now too tight to be comfortable. His jeans gave him the same problem. He ransacked his closet and eventually settled on no underwear and elastic sweatpants.
His cock was still pretty visible under the fabric. It stood out against his thigh where the sweatpants pulled it, and his balls made an undeniable bulge. It would do for now. He grabbed his phone and scrolled through his texts until he found the one she had sent. It was to a number he didn't recognize, and the message was just an address. He pulled it up on google and saw that it was close by, not far from where they'd met. He took a deep breath and reached into his closet once more.
"Found you."
He donned his winter gloves.
--xxx--
Brian stepped into the cold air and set out at a brisk pace. It was only mid afternoon but the sun was already on its way down. He noticed the moon hanging in the baby blue sky. It almost seemed like it was being defiant, mocking the natural order by showing itself in the daylight. The genetalia brushing against his legs as he walked was a constant reminder of the impossible. What was happening to him?
Somebody appeared ahead on the sidewalk, and he suddenly became very aware of the bulge in his sweatpants. Anybody who looked down would notice. As the pedestrian neared, he saw that she was a middle aged woman. He started to attempt a subtle turn of his crotch away from the woman's field of view. Then his mouth fell open. A soft glow was coating the woman's body. Loops and swirls of light danced across her profile in dark green and orange. The lady must have noticed his staring, because she quickened her pace as she passed. What the fuck was happening to him?
The rest of the trip was uneventful. Save for the whirlwind of thoughts in Brian's head. He had just discounted accidental ingestion of LSD and clinical insanity when he realized he was at the mysterious address. It was an apartment complex like any other. The text said "Apt 8," so he found the front door and hit the appropriate buzzer. He listened for what felt like forever until a loud buzz sounded in response. Somebody was home.
Every step up the stairs made a thud that he felt like the whole building must be hearing. Halfway up he hesitated and almost turned around, but he'd come too far to quit. He reached the door with a metal eight on it and knocked. Immediately, it swung inwards. He saw a hand grip the door frame before anything else. Purple nail polish. Betsy appeared with a smile.
"I've been waiting Brian, please come in."
He didn't budge, though Betsy was just as striking at second gaze. She was in a tight green blouse with a very short skirt. Even more than that, he had to pull himself away from her cleavage, underlined by the low cut of the blouse. He hadn't realized how busty she was behind the overcoat and sweater. "What the hell is happening to me?"
"I'll show you." Betsy turned around and he couldn't help but stare at her butt, half bared under the meager fabric of the skirt. He was pretty sure she wasn't wearing panties. He swallowed and followed her in. She disappeared around a hallway, and with her gone he focused on his surroundings. There was no electric light, only candles. It seemed like there was at least one on every open surface. They were the main source of light now that the sky beyond the windows was dark. Old books and strange jewelry littered a coffee table in the living room, it lied in front of a green velvet sofa. No TV.
Classical paintings of orgies and people posturing in the nude adorned the walls. The kitchen, built as an extension of the living room, was smattered with flasks and round glass bottles. A cauldron that looked like it'd come right out of some medieval land was on the floor. One of the flasks had a liquid in it that seemed photoluminescent. He approached to get a better look, and in the process noticed something that made him double take. Blood splattered knives in the sink. "This is fucking crazy," he muttered.
Moments later, Betsy yelled from around the hall, "Coming," and after a pause, "don't touch anything."
He took a seat on the couch. Ready for anything, to run if he had to. When she re-appeared she had a book in her hands. Older even than the ones on the table. She sat on a wooden chair opposite the couch and crossed her legs. Absolutely nothing would have been left to the imagination if she hadn't.
"Brian, I've chosen you."
He found himself admiring her full lips as she talked, then shaking himself out of it. "For what exactly?"
"To be... like me."
"A candle collector?"
She laughed, "that's only a side effect."
"Well it doesn't explain what's happening to me."
"Ah yes, it looks like the transformations already occurred." Betsy bit her lip and looked down at his crotch. Brian always thought that the lip biting thing looked forced on most girls, but Betsy didn't even seem conscious of it. She looked like a lioness in heat. He felt his cock start to harden as she stared. "It's easier if I show you," Betsy said as she stood and walked towards him.
He watched her thighs rub against each other as she skirted the coffee table and knelt at his lap with the book still in hand. He was glued to the couch. She opened up her tome and rested it on his legs, covering up his growing erection. She batted her eyelids up at him as she turned the page, then looked back down and scanned it. She proceeded to open her mouth and chant under her breath. "Legatum proferet atra luxuriae."
