Ken was having the most marvelous dream. In this
fantasy, he was a girl—a very beautiful girl—and someone was sucking
his breasts. His luxurious red hair was tickling his shoulders. The tongue
flicking at his nipples was driving him crazy, and every time the person
would take it whole into their mouth and suck—hard . . . Ken could
feel his young, tight, damp pussy quiver, the vaginal secretions
dripping—no, flowing down the crack of his ass into the bed sheets.
He was squirming like a fish on a line as one pair of fingers expertly
slid in and out of his Tunnel of Love, while another set of fingers worked
his clitoris, bringing him every-so-quickly to . . . .
With the orgasm Ken opened his eyes . . . and realized
the best part of his dream—
It wasn’t.
Hell, he wasn’t even Ken anymore . . . .
The powerful orgasm ripping through her body caused
Anna—the person Ken had become—to close her eyes and moan aloud as she
arched her back, trying to lift her ass completely off the bed. "Trying"
was the operative word, as the weight of her breasts pretty much kept her
pinned down. Not that it mattered: she pushed her elbows into the mattress,
lifting her ass and lower back with her hands, All eight of them . . .
.
It was really very simple. The day before Anna—who
then was a guy named Ken Parsons—found something on her computer called
"Personal Manipulator MegaKISS," a Japanese program which also contained
a rather lovely anime girl/help program named Akimi. With Akimi’s help
Ken managed to take an image of himself and overlay it with an image of
tennis player, and all around hot babe, Anna Kournikova. Upon saving said
new image Ken found himself turning into Anna—which was no big deal, since
Ken had always wanted to be a girl.
After she learned a little more about the program
she called up Wendy Kurstin, a woman she worked with—
And they both discovered a few more things not only
about the program’s capabilities—but about each other.
Wendy knew she was a kinky girl. There was very
little she hadn’t already tried, and she was always looking for more. Once
Wendy was convinced this magical "doll changing" program was the real shit,
she asked for something she’d always wanted—big breasts. Upon viewing the
stash of pictures which had been collected over the years on Anna’s computer,
Wendy selected an image which would give her what she wanted—and more—
The image had been a photo manipulation of the Asian
adult star Minka, which showed her with three sets of her infamously huge
breasts, as well as three sets of arms with which to fondle them. Wendy
was transformed, and instantly fell in love with her new look. So did Anna.
Soon after Wendy began to fondle the "new girl on the block" Anna’s years
of built-up repression from not living as a woman was set free, and Wendy
found herself with a tiger by the tail.
Then it was Anna’s turn to change again.
Wendy had made the suggestion, and Anna didn’t deny
the girl her "pleasure" to change her. When Anna had spent all those years
wishing to be a girl—well, it wasn’t always a "normal" girl she wanted
to become. She loved that she now had the body of a famous and beautiful
woman, but when she saw what Wendy did to herself . . . she hadn’t needed
much prodding from her "sister" (which is what she called Wendy; that’s
how she felt about her) to undergo a further transformation.
Wendy admitting she had a thing for large breasts,
and that she wanted to see Anna similarly endowed. Anna wanted the same.
She was curious to see what having tits the size of bowling balls hanging
on your chest would feel like.
Wendy told her to sit on the bed turned away from
her, which Anna did. She knew when she heard Wendy talking with Akimi—the
help program for the MegaKISS—so she could make a few "changes" to the
image she’d overlay that it wasn’t going to be a normal transformation—and
the feeling between Anna’s leg grew even more tingly. She thought she might
cum as she sat here just thinking about what she’d become.
When the change came, she wasn’t disappointed. Anna
had almost forgotten about this image. She’d found it a couple of
years ago on a site that’d went pay-per a while back. The girl in the picture
had been sitting down, and her breasts . . . they were gargantuan. The
bottom of each breast hung even with her calves; the areola was the size
of her head; her nipples looked to be the size of her fist.
Wendy hadn’t stopped there. She gave Anna not one,
but two sets. She could feel the lower set rest on the floor next to her
feet, and the sensation of the carpet rubbing against these immensely sensitive
breasts was driving her wild. Anna tried to stand, figuring she’d never
be able to walk even if she did make it to her feet, and discovered another
"addition"—she now had four sets of arms. She found to her amazement there
was no difficulty in using them; each one seemed to be able to move with
the same degree of control as she had with her regular arms. She was able
to make it to her feet, but as she suspected the weight added to her body—and
the fact her legs were mostly blocked by her lower set of breasts which
just swept the tops of her feet—prevented her from walking.
Wendy came over, pleased with her "sister’s" new
look. She took one of Anna’s enormous nipples and, while almost straddling
her breast, began rubbing it against her vagina. Anna exploded in an orgasm
which left her weak kneed and light headed . . . .
And from there it was to the bed and sex and more
sex and a lot more sex.
Wendy was on the verge of again using one of Anna’s
nipples as a substitute for a dildo. As much as Anna wanted to feel her
nipple inside Wendy’s tight, wet pussy, there was something else she had
to do . . . "Don’t, please," she moaned.
Wendy—who had found Anna to be the most insatiable
person she’d ever made love to—wondered what the problem was. "What’s up?"
Looking almost embarrassed. "I gotta pee," she whispered.
"Can you change me back. I don’t think . . . ."
Wendy knew she wouldn’t be able to make it to the
john without a wheelchair—and even then, she didn’t know if Anna and her
King Sized Titties would make it through the door. She wend over to the
computer and brought up the images she’d worked on last night: one of the
"converted" Anna, and another from the History directory which showed Anna
as her "normal self." She overlaid the historical image onto the current
image, seeing the breasts and arms disappear. She saved the new image to
Current—
And like that, Anna was back the way she’d been.
With a quick "Thanks!" she popped out of bed and
ran for the bathroom. Wendy heard the grateful "Ahhhhhhhhh" which she herself
had uttered more than a few times in her life. This was quickly followed
by an "Oh, shit," which Wendy thought might require her presence, since
it was obvious Anna had done something wrong.
She found Anna sitting on the pot, her legs spread
slightly. "What’s the matter?"
Anna looked up. "I knew I had to sit, but out a
habit I reached between my legs to, uh, you know, push it down, and—"
"Pissed on your fingers, didn’t you?"
She nodded. "Yeah."
Anna started to get up, but was forced back down
by several sets of hands. "You ain’t done, Sis," Wendy told her sternly.
"Huh?"
As she filled a small cup, Wendy laid it out. "You
rinse your vagina after you piss or shit. Do it two, three times. Since
you don’t have a squirt bottle use a cup. If you don’t have that, wipe
real good, but clean the first chance you get. Wipe anyway after cleaning
yourself." She handed the cup to Anna, who proceeded to follow the instructions.
"With the interaction of sweat, piss, and your own lubrication—not to mention
the semen you might pick up now and then—the female nether regions have
the ability to develop a fragrance not unlike a week-old diaper pail. Practice
feminine hygiene." She smiled. "Trust me, no one wants to fuck in a cesspool."
Anna stood, and Wendy saw that, yes, the other changes
she’d performed—before giving her "sister" the big breasts and extra arms—were
still in place. Anna’s pubic mound was hair-free, allowing a peek at the
top of her vaginal slit. Her hair color was a much more vibrate red as
well, lighter and brighter. And her hair length; originally it fell to
the middle of her back. Using a cloning tool Wendy had made her hair reach
passed her ass almost to her knees, and had "filled it out" a little. While
not quite big hair, Anna certainly had a lot.
She started to squeeze past Wendy, returning to
the darkened bedroom. "What time is it?" she asked.
"About 5:30."
"Christ." It was early October, and it was still
pretty dark. Anna stopped and turned when she heard Wendy laughing. "What
is it now?"
Moving slowly, her breasts bouncing as she walked,
Wendy asked, "How’s your vagina?"
Anna put her hand to it. "Sore."
"And your clitoris?"
"Numb."
"Thought so." She gave Anna a peck on the cheek.
"You were walking bow legged, so I figured I’d rubbed you raw." She whispered
in her ear, "Was it worth it, little sister?"
Anna leaned in and ran her tongue along Wendy’s
neck just below the jaw line. She stopped when she got to Wendy’s left
earlobe and whispered back, "Yes, it was. But why do you call me ‘little
sister’? I’m older than you."
"Look in a mirror lately?" Wendy replied, giggling.
"You look like you’re twenty one or two."
"Yeah, I guess I do." She began nibbling on Wendy’s
earrings, which she’d not taken out during their afternoon and night of
love making. "Wanna try an make my pussy feel better while I eat yours?"
Wendy thought about it. "Can you get around my breasts?"
she asked, using a couple of hand to lift a set while another pair starting
fondling Anna’s nipples.
Turning Wendy so she could sit back on the bed if
necessary, Anna went to her knees and began licking around the nipples
of Wendy’s lower breasts. Her kisses and licks extended around the sensitive
mounds, and eventually found their way to the cleavage. Anna’s tongue probed
deeply as the middle set of breasts rubbed against her forehead. She moved
downward, her tongue pausing on the mohawked-cut mound of pubic hair before
diving into Wendy’s moistened labia. The girl hissed as Anna reviled her
clitoris, and six hands gripped the back of her head, urging her onward.
Don’t worry, big sister, Anna thought. I’ll
always
think of something . . . .
It was close to noon, and the girls were hungry for
something other than sex.
For the first time since finding the program on
her system, Anna felt free. She was in public as a women, dressed like
a woman, having people see her as a woman. She almost couldn’t contain
the glee coursing through her soul.
And the attention she was getting . . . or should
I say, she though, the attention I’m getting after they see
Wendy?
After morning sex and breakfast Wendy decided it
would be good if they got out of the apartment and went shopping. Though
she realized they could used the KISS program to import clothing and then
"apply" it to their bodies, as Wendy told Anna, "Sometimes you simply have
to go out and try things on, if for no other reason than it’s better than
sitting on your ass at home." And as she pointed out, shopping was a "girl
thing," and would give them something to do besides drench each other in
saliva and cum.
"I need to get you a vibrator anyway," Wendy mumbled
over her coffee, "so you can have some good orgasms."
"If they’re any better than the ones I’ve been getting,
I’m a dead woman," Anna yelled back from the kitchen.
But there was the matter of what to wear. Anna didn’t
have anything in the apartment to put on other than the little red number
and the school girl’s outfit, and Wendy—back to having one set of arms
and breasts—wanted to dress in something that would look great on her "super
sized tits," as she called them. Wendy had also forgot to put back on the
shirt and bra she’d been wearing during her initial transformation, and
now both items were completely useless, since they didn’t transform back
when she did.
Wendy wanted to pick out something for Anna, which
initially worried her. "I don’t want to look like some young tramp," she
said. "Sexy, yes. But no further."
Looking hurt, Wendy asked, "You don’t trust me?"
Anna knew Wendy was learning the ins and outs of
the program pretty quickly, and it was her who realized how to use the
Cloning Tool to make "adjustments" to her body instead of major transformations.
But this really didn’t bother Anna. She knew—well, figured—Wendy
wouldn’t do anything really strange to either of them.
Besides, she had to trust someone.
"Yeah, I trust you. But this is my first time out,
and—"
"You want to make a good first impression."
"Yeah."
"Okay." She brought up the Internet browser. "Let’s
look together."
After about twenty minutes of surfing they found
what they were looking for, and Wendy applied the overlays to the foreground.
"Ready?" she asked. Anna stepped back about six feet and nodded.
As with all the transformations, the moment Save
was pressed the change occurred. One moment Anna was naked . . . then found
herself stumbling foreword as the heels formed under her feet. After getting
her balance she made her way confidently to the mirror on the walk-in closet
door to see how she looked.
Wanting a short skirt Wendy had selected something
in dark brown suede which, while revealing, looked classy. She’d also selected
a sleeveless matching knit top which clung to her body enough to insinuate
her lines rather than show them. The boots were a compromise: Anna had
wanted high heels, but Wendy knew she’d be in trouble if did a lot of walking
and suggested something with more support around the ankles. They’d found
the pair Anna now sported on a Japanese pop star site, and Anna just had
to have them—she thought they were "stylish." Flat black with a solid crepe
soles an inch thick and heels four inches higher, they laced up almost
to her knees. Anna thought they looked better on her than the other girl.
She completed her outfit with a black leather coat which reached to her
thighs, and pink bra and panty set they found on the Victoria’s Secret
site.
Turning to Wendy she spun and said, "How do I look?"
Wendy gave her a thumbs up. "Very good for a first
time. I’ll help you with the makeup after . . ." She clicked the mouse
and changed as well. The outfit was simple: a blue, long sleeve knit pull
over that clung to Wendy’s breasts like a drowning man to a life vest.
Tight, low riding, hip hugging knit pants which flared over black pumps
with four and a half inch heels. The top was short enough that you could
just make out Wendy’s navel and the two rings piercing her flesh, and taut
enough that her breasts seemed larger than they already were. Anna felt
something stirring inside when she saw Wendy’s nipples sticking straight
out, thanks to the brass post which kept them erect. She bit her lower
lip, promising to deal with those feelings later.
Wendy clicked the mouse again, and Anna suddenly
felt something strange . . . even with the slightest movement there was
this feeling— She thought she knew what it might be. She lifted
her top a saw the second set of breasts beneath her first. "Hey!" she cried.
"What’s the matter?" Wendy acted as if nothing had
happened.
"You gave me another set of breasts!"
"So? You’re only a little bigger than a B cup, and
with that jacket it’ll be hard to see them." She gave Anna a wink. "Don’t
you want to see if anyone notices?"
Wendy took two fast steps then had to stop and readjust;
her center of gravity was way off, and regardless of how many years she’d
been walking in heels, it would take some time to get used to her new body.
She looked down and smiled. "Damn, can’t see my feet anymore. Ain’t this
fun?!"
They went to Wendy’s apartment after that and spent
the next couple of hours working on Anna’s makeup, seeing what looked good
as Wendy taught Anna how to apply it correctly. "If done right, you’ll
look fantastic," she said as she applied a dark red color to Anna’s full
lips. "Do it wrong and you’ll look like a slut trolling for a gang rape.."
When she was finished Wendy had to admit Anna looked very hot: the light
blue eye shadow brought out her gray eyes; the blush made her cheeks stand
out and gave her color, and her lips . . . almost to die for. Loaning Anna
a purse they hit the ATM and then departed for the local mall.
It was a whole new experience for Anna from that
point. They were no sooner out of the car when Wendy whispered, "You’re
walking like a guy. Do as I do," and moved to the front. Anna didn’t think
about her natural gait, which was a little on the open-stance stance side.
Imitating Wendy, Anna tried to put each foot in front of the other, which
on one hand was easy due to her hips being wider, but hard because of her
soreness in her vagina. Before they reached the doors Anna was moving in
a kind of bow-legged gait, which forced her to swing her hips even more
than she figured they would naturally.
She knew now it was a good thing she was wearing
boots and not just high heels; a couple of times she felt her ankles start
to snap to one side while talking with Wendy. It took a good fifteen minutes
of just walking, nothing else, before she got to where she didn’t have
to think about walking.
What she couldn’t stop thinking about, however—
Her underwear clung to her crotch, and she had to
resist the urge to reach down and pull it out. When she was Ken and her
underwear started getting tight around the sack she’d put her hand in a
pocket and give things a little jiggle. Now she’d have to reach inside
her skirt and perform some sort of major operation—very un-lady like.
And she knew the reason her panties were clinging:
her pussy was soaked. The rubbing of her silky bra on her upper set of
breasts was one thing, but it seemed like every time she breathed
her knit top was gliding across her lower set of breasts—and her erect
nipples were driving her crazy!
And her ass . . . she was fully cognizant of her
butt swinging back and forth as she walked. She’d never realized how much
movement
there was back there. And unlike her former bony ass, the skin of her now-full
and firm buttocks was so—soft. Just like her whole body, it seemed.
Her ass was moving against her panties, rubbing against them so—sensually.
And also against the cool, satiny liner of her skirt, and . . . .
Wendy could see Anna’s nostrils flair, the glazed
look in her eyes. "You feel like you’re going to cum?" she whispered.
Anna nodded. "I can’t help it."
"That’s okay." Wendy patted her on the shoulder.
"You’re going through puberty a little late, is all. Try to keep it inside
until we get home—"
"I don’t think I can."
"I don’t think you can keep quiet playing with yourself
in a dressing room, either." Wendy remembered when she did that
after feeling much as she expected Anna was now. "Don’t worry: Big Sister
will take care of you." Wendy couldn’t tell if Anna’s response was a whine
or a moan—or a little of both.
They tried on clothes. They tried on shoes. They
went shopping for lingerie and fragrances and makeup.
It was only when they were sitting in the food court,
picking at their salads, that Anna was able to talk about her feelings.
"God, I am so fuckin’ horny," she moaned. She glanced
down for the one hundredth time to look at her legs crossed so effortlessly,
one dangling over the other as they should. And sitting on this nice ass—while
it wasn’t like "sitting on a pillow" as some people had described in stories,
it certainly felt nicer—and softer—and sitting with a man’s ass.
"You want to be a woman, you have to deal with this."
Wendy was surprised when Anna ordered a salad and a mineral water. She
half expected a little of Ken to pop out and order a big, greasy hamburger
or a load of burritos and a beer—but, no, she wanted something light and
filling. Already thinking like a girl, Wendy thought. As I told
her in the car on the way over here: if you don’t watch your figure, no
one else will. "We all do."
"I know." Anna got that wistful look on her face
again.
"What’s on your mind?" Wendy asked.
"I won’t go back to being a guy," she said softly.
"This is what I want to be. But . . ."
Wendy knew where she was going. After they’d bought
a few items on Wendy’s plastic, they realized they’d forgotten one very
important thing: As a person, Anna didn’t exist. At least as far as those
things which make life worth living are concerned. "You don’t have a job,
you have no credit, you don’t have a driver’s license, how are you going
to make money, buy things, that sort of shit, right?"
She nodded. "On the nose."
Wendy’s reply was interrupted when she again hit
her breasts as she lifted her fork to her mouth. Learning to drive with
your breasts squeezed between your arms took a little getting used to,
but Wendy was discovering that even eating with these monsters was something
of a chore. Remember: when you have tits a foot across, it’s lift out
before up . . . She wiped the mess from her top, then said, "Let’s
look at this logically. You have a program which can turn a person into
just about anything that can be transferred to a image. Correct."
"Yep."
"Now, neither of us has really gotten that deep
into the program, nor ask little Akimi about some of the more advanced
functions it might have."
Anna thought for a moment. "True."
Leaning forward, Wendy said, "So who’s to say that
there isn’t some kind of function that will either change the stuff you
had as Ken so that it’s in your name, or even give you all new things?
We don’t know." She looked down and realized her breasts were pressing
into the table top. "And as for a place to say," she continued after sitting
up, "You can always stay with me."
Grinning, Anna asked, "And where would I sleep?"
"With me," Wendy told her, raising her eyebrows
for just a second. "My bed’s big enough for two."
"You only want to take advantage of me, you incestuous
lesbian."
Wendy giggled. "I’m not the lesbian—you are. I’ve
had dick inside my pussy, sister dear, and semen dribbling down
my leg. The only cum you’ve had is mine. You’re the one who’s gay." She
looked at Anna sideways and told her out of the corner of her mouth, "And
if you ain’t good enough for me, then you ain’t good enough for anyone
else." She chewed some of the salad before continuing: "Besides, any real
sister of mine would be like her big sister and have pierced nipples. Probably
a couple or rings in each nipple. And she’d let her sister do the
piercing—"
"So when are you going to stop talking about it
and do it, Sis?"
Anna was giving Wendy an extremely confident look.
Wendy could tell the girl’s question hadn’t been simple feminine bravado.
"When do you want it done?"
Anna put her elbows on the table and rested her
chin on her hands. "Tonight."
"You know I’ll use a needle?"
"Yes." Her eyes didn’t leave Wendy’s.
"I’ll ice your nipples down to numb them, but it’ll
still hurt a little."
"I know."
Now Wendy leaned forward, chin resting on the back
of her hands. "I’ll do it twice for each nipple."
"And?"
"And I’ll put in some of my old rings—"
"And?"
"And once they’re in I won’t ever let you take them
out."
"Why not?"
"Because . . . it shows my sister that I love her.
It makes me—connected to her."
Anna smiled. "Why don’t you enlarge my nipples—make
them a couple of inches long and an inch across? Then you can put in a
lot more rings."
Wendy almost came when she focused on the image
of Anna with huge nipples, three or four rings in each one. "That’s a thought."
Anna leaned closer. Wendy thought for a moment she
might kiss her, but Anna whispered instead, "And what can your sister do
to show her love to you?"
Now there was an unexpected question. Wendy
wasn’t about to admit she might have a thing for Anna, but . . . she had
liked Ken. A lot. Although she never said anything, she knew that had they
"stopped for drinks" a few more times and she would have invited him back
to her place for a nightcap, and maybe a blow job. And Anna . . . she was
Ken inside, but just like with her late brother Roger, Anna was and wasn’t
Ken. She was someone completely different, even though he (she?) probably
didn’t think so.
And what did she feel for Anna? The way they went
at each other yesterday and this morning—Wendy knew that was a little more
than "just sex." Though she knew Anna wasn’t her sister, Wendy was finding
it more difficult today to remember this somewhat trifling reality. Something
else had changed besides Anna, because . . . Because last night I went
to bed with a guy who used a magical program to change into a woman,
she had thought at one point while they were shopping, and this morning
I was convinced I was having sex with my beautiful sister. I had to force
myself to recall who Anna had been. Just as I am now doing .
.. . .
Wendy was finding herself more turned on by Anna
with each passing moment. In part because she was a sexy and sensual woman—and
partially because the idea of having an incestuous homosexual relationship
was pushing all the right buttons in Wendy’s libido.
During the few heartbeats where their eyes never
wavered from each other, Wendy knew what her answer would be.
"Listen to me when I give advice; do as I ask—"
she said in a voice that was cracking.
Now it was Anna’s turn to raise an eyebrow. "Are
you trying to dominate me, Big Sister?"
"Is that what you want?"
"Per—haps," Anna said, looking up and off to the
side. "Do you want me to love you as well?"
"Yes."
"Do you want me to remain true only to you?"
Wendy thought for a moment at the implications of
that statement. Christ, it’s almost like she’s asking me to marry her!
"If you mean, do I want you to have sex only with me . . ." She took Anna’s
hands, her fingertips lightly caressing Anna’s soft cheeks. "I want you
to experience as much of womanhood as you can. I’m not telling you to go
out and gang bang a thousand guys at some frat party, but I want you to
try other partners, other experiences. I can show you a great deal—but
I’m not the whole world." Her voice grew softer. "You’re a woman now. Make
up for the years you’ve already missed."
"What if I only want to be with you?"
"I can dig that," Wendy said, shrugging. "If that’s
what you want."
Before Anna could continue, they were interrupted
by the clearing of a throat and the words, "Excuse me?"
Wendy backed away from Anna, sitting upright quickly.
She was almost embarrassed; to realize Anna and her had probably been on
the verge of a little kissy-feelly right here in the food court—something
that people who are easily freaked out would complain loudly about . .
.. and that’s what she figured was happening here: they were going to get
bitched out about this scene of near mutual affection occurring between
two females in public, the "That’s disgusting, can’t you keep your hands
off each other, don’t you know that’s going to cause my daughter to grow
up wanting to eat pussy, you lezbos?!" rap which happens everywhere in
the US outside San Francisco, Key West, and Providencetown, Massachusetts.
Anna, however, didn’t move at all. She looked up,
blinked her eyes—rather seductively, Wendy thought—and replied, "Yes?"
The woman standing there was not the sort of person
one would remember. Dressed in a simple jeans smock mini dress, sandals,
and a white, short sleeve tee shirt, she possessed a sort of commonness
which wouldn’t let her stand out in a crowd no larger than three no matter
what you did to her.
Anna didn’t think she was unattractive. On the contrary:
the blond hair and the sprinkling of freckles on her fair skin made her
sort of cute. But Anna could also see her faults: her hair was dull. Her
skin didn’t shine. And the biggest problem . . . the girl (after her initial
impression faded that this person couldn’t be much past her early twenties,
if that) was a little on the "chunky" side. Not fat, no. But her face was
a tad round; her upper arms flabby; her thighs and knees a bit on the pudgy
side; and her thickening waist would turn into a pot belly in a few more
years.
For some reason Anna felt there was someone behind
this façade just dying to get out.
"I didn’t mean to interrupt—" The girl’s manor was
halting, and her speech was awkward due to an overbite which was being
corrected by braces.
"Not at all. What can I do for you?"
"Well . . . I was wondering." The girl was starting
to blush. "You aren’t Anna Kournikova, are you?"
Batting her eyes, Anna said, "Would you like to
sit down?" After the girl did, Anna continued. "No, I’m not. But I do look
a great deal like her." It was her turn to smile. "I have this happen all
the time."
The girl was visibly disappointed. Anna figured
she was a fan, and to run into a—star in the local mall . . . Of
course to have Anna Kournikova show up at this mall would be a near
impossibility. Not that it would stop some people from hoping—
"Ah, shit . . ." The girl shrugged. "I figured you
might be her. I mean . . . you look—"
"You might say I look like her twin?"
"Yeah. Except for the hair."
Anna leaned over closer to the young girl. "What’s
your name?"
"Amy."
Hesitating for only a heartbeat, Anna ask, "What
would say if I told you I didn’t always look this way?"
Amy Beetler was on the verge of getting up and splitting
.. . . but she couldn’t. When she’d first seen this girl sitting in the
food court she was positive she was Anna Kournikova, which sent
her excitement meter heading for the stratosphere. She had to meet her.
Amy wasn’t a big tennis fan, but she loved Anna. She loved the way
she looked, the way she moved, her trim thighs, her cute ass poking out
of those tennis whites . . . .
By no means was Amy gay. She’d had a few boyfriends,
and the sex they had—while it wasn’t great, she had managed an orgasm a
few times. She really
did like guys. It was just . . . well, there
were times when certain
women made her feel all funny inside. Funny
in a good way, mind you.
When she was fourteen, she’d had a crush on Wynona
Rider. Not that she’d ever told anyone about it, but it was pretty obvious
that the girl had some sort of influence on her when Any started showing
up in school dressed in black morning regalia straight out of "Beetlejuice."
A few years after that she’d started having naughty thoughts about the
woman who played Gabrielle on "Xena." She knew a lot of people had
homosexual fantasies, so as far as Amy was concerned there was nothing
wrong dreaming about straddling Gabby’s "big stick" and rubbing
her pussy against it while Gabrielle sucked on her nipples like a baby
searching for milk--
Then came Anna. She saw her picture in a magazine
one day, and that night she’d had a dream. In the dream Anna had tired
her up so she lay across a bed— naked, her ass sticking in the air—and
began rubbing oil all over her body. Then whipped cream. The she brought
out a tennis racket and began beating her ass. Hard. When she was done
she smeared K-Y all over the handle and worked it into her tight, squirming
pussy, pushing it deeper every time Amy gasped. She forced a tennis ball
into Amy’s mouth, then ran her shapely, ruby-red painted fingernails over
her nipples, flicking them playfully before lubricating her right hand
and, every so slowly, finger by finger, pushed it into her anus and fisted
her ass . . . .
It got so Amy couldn’t pass a picture of Anna without
having a fantasy of the two of them together snap to the forefront of her
thoughts. Again, she knew this didn’t make her gay: she knew a lot
of girls had fantasies about other girls, and they weren’t gay. And besides,
Amy had never slept with another woman, so she couldn’t be gay.
Or even bisexual. She just had fantasies, is all.
And now this Anna was telling her that she’d
not always looked this way. What did she look like before? Amy thought.
Not that it matters, she sooooooo beautiful . . . .
"Wha—what do you mean?" she stammered.
‘How old are you?" Anna asked.
"Twenty."
"Do you always want to be who you are now?"
"Uh . . ." Amy didn’t have to think long over this
question. Since she’d been a little girl she’d had a problem with her weight.
As she got older her mother told her the reason she had to wear a size
14 dress was due to her being "big boned", but Amy’s mother had an ass
big enough to hid a car in, and Amy knew the woman didn’t have any bones
back there filling out her stretch pants.
Even when she starved herself damn near to death,
and rode the exercise bike until she nearly passed out, Amy couldn’t lose
weigh, thanks to her mother’s fucked up genes. If she didn’t watch what
she ate she’d would get fat, but even without eating she’d never be anything
but chubby.
So of course she wanted to be someone else.
Just who she’d never said: it was just too weird . . . .
"No, I’ve never wanted to be myself," she said confidently
to Anna.
"By the way, this is my sister, Wendy." Anna indicated
Wendy, who smiled and waved. "Just to let you know, she didn’t always have
this magnificent bosom she now possesses—"
"Really?"
Anna reached over, took Amy by the wrist, and placed
her hands upon her "new" set of breasts. "Just as I wasn’t born with these
.. . . ."
At first Amy thought it was a joke. The girl
has a set of breasts on her stomach? She was beginning to wonder
just what sort of weirdoes these girls were. After all, who wanders around
a mall with fake breasts? Then Amy started feeling them—and when
they started to give, when she could feel they weren’t rubber or silicon
or latex—she started to wonder if they were real.
Seeing the amazement—as well as puzzlement—on Amy’s
face, Anna slid the girl’s hands under her top, putting flesh to flesh
so there’s be no mistakes. Amy’s eyes were like saucers as she began to
massage Anna’s breasts—and watched her respond with a sharp intake of breath
and a long, easy sigh. Feeling her nipples harden convinced Amy there wasn’t
any sort of fakery going on here. These things were real.
"How—did this happen?" she asked, utterly flabbergasted.
Anna pulled Amy’s hands away. Not only was the girl’s
eyes glazing over, she was developing a death grip on her tits. She then
leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Would you like to find out?"
Amy was beginning to wonder if this was such a good
idea.
She had been in a daze ever since the afternoon.
Running into Anna had made her become—preoccupied for the rest of
the day. It was fortunate she had a small apartment all to herself, because
the moment she returned home she slipped out of her clothes and stared
at herself in a mirror for what seemed like hours. She touched her body,
her thick, ugly body that she was growing to hate with a passion
.. . . and then passion washed over her as she thought about Anna—Anna and
her four breasts fondling her large breasts (at least there was
something about her body she liked!) and then kissing her neck, her breasts,
her . . . nipples, her stomach, and, and . . . .
And with that Amy started pulling out her collection
of toys: Jasmine oil, cocoa butter, an eight inch vibrator, a twelve inch
vibrator, an eighteen inch dildo, and a set of nipple clamps. She worked
herself into a lather, and almost didn’t have time to shower before returning
to the mall.
She waited to be picked up, because Anna told her
someone would. Anna said she couldn’t give directions to her place, but
that if she left her car at the mall someone would give her a ride . .
.. Amy didn’t know if she should do this: after all, these girls could be
psychos looking to rape her and kill her. But when Anna whispered, "And
bring an overnight bag if you like," she couldn’t help herself. Anna promised
nothing bad would happen. She promised Amy would find out how to the "the
girl of her dreams." She promised they’d have fun . . . .
Amy also packed all her toys—just in case.
Wendy, the girl with the enormous breasts, finally
showed. On the ride from the mall Amy couldn’t help but stare at the girl’s
cleavage, since was wearing a dress that didn’t hide a thing. She
was almost falling out of the top. Amy—still ripe from her afternoon of
"manual stimulation"—felt her nipples grow rigid. She thought it was a
good thing it was dark, since she wasn’t wearing a bra—she’d been too sore—and
Wendy would have noticed . . . .
Wendy must have sensed something. "You like my breasts?"
she asked.
Amy nodded, then muttered, "Uh, huh."
Giving a wink, Wendy said, "You’d look good with
three of these."
For a moment Amy wasn’t sure if she’d heard the
girl right. "Th—three?"
"Or four." Her laugh was very light. "We’ll see
when we get home."
The only time there was a problem was when they
reached Anna’s apartment. Wendy told the girl to knock, and Amy hesitated.
She froze. There was a part of her that knew if she knocked and the door
opened, something in her life would change. Really change. She would
come out of this place a different person—if she came out at all. She couldn’t
explain what she felt; it wasn’t fear as much as it was anticipation.
One always pauses before moving on to the next
stage of life, Amy thought.
She knocked.
While Amy was wearing the same outfit she’d worn
to the mall, the outfit Anna had on when she opened the door certainly
wasn’t. She was wearing stylish black pumps with thick heels. Her legs
were bare. She had on a black leather mini skirt which was snug around
her hips. And there was her black leather halters—one for each set of breasts.
The upper one was just as you would expect, but attached below that was
another halter which covered the breasts attached to her abdomen. Amy stared
hard, and barely heard Anna when she spoke. "Wh—what?" she muttered.
"It’s nice to see you again," Anna said, acting
as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "Would you like to come in?"
Amy was so entranced she was literally sleepwalking.
She knew Anna was speaking, but wasn’t paying much attention to her. She
didn’t notice Wendy leave, and just barely registered the quick flash of
light out of the corner of her eye. All she could think of was removing
her bra—bras!—and maybe being allowed to fondle her breasts. And that Anna
might want to fondle hers as well. Or kiss them. Or make her get on her
hands and knees and—
"So, can you keep our secret?"
Amy snapped out of it. "Your secret?" she repeated.
Both girls were sitting on the sofa. Anna was leaning
back in a very seductive, reclining position. She quickly sat up and leaned
closer to Amy. "Our secret we want to share with you."
"You mean this thing where you say you can change
me?"
Anna nodded. "I can sense . . . you want to be someone
else. Just like I did. And like Wendy did as well." Anna lowered her voice,
as if sharing a secret. "You may not believe this, but yesterday I was
a man."
"Really?" she gulped. "You’re kidding."
"Not at all. I changed myself into this—" With a
flourish Anna waved her hands over her body, "because—well, you’re not
the only one who thinks Kournikova is sexy."
Amy was fully attentive. She didn’t want
to believe that Anna had been—a guy?—but the thing with the extra breasts
.. . . that was real. And it wasn’t something you grew up with. Or went
and got surgically implanted. To add those to your body would take something—magical.
She did believe. If for no other reason than she
had to believe.
Anna moved next to Amy, putting her soft, warm hand
on her thigh. She squeezed her leg lightly, then allowed her fingers to
slow glide along Amy’s slightly moist flesh, stopping just under the hem
of her dress. When Amy gave no indication she was going to stop her, Anna’s
hand continued moving. She finally stopped when her fingers came to rest
upon the front of her cotton panties.
"You do think I’m sexy, don’t you?" Anna asked.
"Yes." The girl was almost gasping for air. "Yes,
I do."
"Do you believe me when I say we can turn you into
anyone you want to be?"
"I-- I don’t know. I guess."
"You guess?"
"It’s just that . . . you know how that sounds."
Moving her face close to Amy’s, Anna breathlessly
whispered, "Let me show you something." She turned her gaze to the ceiling
and, in a much louder voice, cried out, "Wendy? Do it."
Amy didn’t let her eyes wander from Anna’s face.
Nonetheless, something
happened to the girl; it was as if Amy had
blinked. Then she felt something strange. It was Anna’s hand, the one on
her panties. She could feel it against her leg again. But there was also
the slight pressure on her pubic area . . . and a caress along her right
ear. And was she also playing with the underside of her left breast?
She pulled her eyes away—and saw . . . .
Anna had changed. The mini skirt was still there,
but it was now bright red, the same as the knee-high boots she had on.
Her bras had vanished, and she was wearing leather opera gloves on her
arms. All six of them. Three had appeared on each side of her body. One
left hand was up her dress, another was playing with her breast, and the
third was touching her leg. One of Anna’s right hands was cupping her ear
as she knelt with the other two right arms resting on the back of the couch.
Anna’s breasts had also multiplied. Not only were
they bigger, but there was six of them, sitting across her body in two
rows of three. To Amy they were perfect—round and firm with little or no
sag. The sort of breasts you saw on women in comics; impossible to find
in real life. But Anna possessed them.
Illustration by Ariel
Hours later, Wendy and Amy—both back in their "original"
bodies—were in the living room, sprawled on the sofa, recounting their
experiences.
When they’d recovered from their daze they’d discovered
Anna had used the MegaKISS program to change them—and that their testicles
were now the size of basketballs. Besides finding it difficult to move,
their erections were constant—and somewhat painful.
Of course, that’s what Anna had wanted.
The last of her inhibitions removed, Anna went wild.
She fucked Wendy from on top; she let Amy fuck her from behind; she fucked
both girls missionary style; she sucked gallons of cum from their balls;
she jerked them both off at the same time and let their cum soak her tits,
her face, her hair.
When she was done with them, Wendy and Amy left
Anna passed out amid the cum-stained sheets, the semen drying upon her
body, her boots, and her gloves, while they in turn sought a change back
to their other bodies, so they could be rid of these now tender and aching
penises and throbbing testicles.
Wendy took the time to explain to Amy how the program
worked, and how all they needed was a photo—like the one Wendy had taken
of Amy as she first walked through the door—to begin manipulating their
bodies.
Amy took it all in, then asked, "So, I can stay
this way forever?"
Wendy nodded, then shrugged. "We only discovered
this program yesterday, but from what I’ve seen . . . I would think so."
She smiled at her new "sister." "You going to keep that body?"
"I’d love to," Amy said. "And change my name, of
course."
"To?
Amy thought for a moment. "Lucy Chung?"
"I like that," Wendy told her. "Anna doesn’t want
to change back to what she was, either."
"She was a guy?"
"Yeah."
"Wow." Amy suddenly had the same thought which Anna
had earlier. "But . . . what are we going to do about IDs an stuff like
that?"
Wendy had been playing with the program a lot more
than Anna had—and had developed a pretty good rapport with Akimi, the interactive
AI/help program. "I think I have that one figured out," she said. "The
program should be able to help us there." She moved closer to Amy. "It’s
a lot more powerful than you would imagine."
Fondling Wendy’s breasts, Amy—who was repeating
Lucy over and over in her mind, to get used to the new name—asked,
"So, we can keep changing as much as we want, and then some?"
"Yep." She rubbed Amy’s tiny clitoris and smiled
when she elicited a sudden gasp. "As long as we got the Internet and strange
photos to play with, I don’t think there’s anything we can’t do." She plunged
her finger into Amy’s pussy and watched her squirm. "As long as we can
keep our strength up, that is . . . . ."
To Be Continued . . . .