Frankie free porn video

Frankie by Callie Messenger The bottle had belonged to my great-great-grandfather. He had been an only slightly famous but very passionate archaeologist and Egyptologist. That was about all I knew about him, and what was written in the museum notes. But the museum was being shut down, and the small loan section that had belonged to Harold Arthur D'Arborfield Jenkinson was being returned to his family. That was me, Johnathan Francis Jenkinson. Frank to all that knew me. I was the only surviving member of a once proud family. Or so I had been told. My parents had left me a fair sum of money on their deaths and I had used it to buy a couple of flats which I rented out to make my living. One of them I shared with a computer programmer called Steve. A bit of a nerd, but he was a quiet flatmate and somehow managed to scrape his bills together. It was in this flat, with Steve away for the week, that I was inspecting the bottle. It was very odd. After I had polished it up a little (it had got dusty in the little visited museum) I could almost perceive something inside it. Something cloudy, which reflected the light in odd ways. A liquid perhaps? Perhaps it was a gem. Finally, I uncorked the bottle. At first I was disappointed. The bottle was indeed empty, apart from some smoke exiting the neck. But then the smoke began to spread out and the cloud began to enlarge and coalesce. I would have laughed out loud if I hadn't suddenly become so shit scared! The cloud was taking on human form, and that was one big human! "Mortal!" The form boomed down at me. "You have freed me. That bottle has been my prison for many thousands of years. For that I am grateful, and your thanks will be one wish." "Who are you?" I managed to stammer. "I am the genie Mujared." "I'm dreaming, right?" "If you are, then I am not free, and you will not have your wish!" I laughed out loud finally, freeing the tension. The seeming absurdity of the logic had hit the humour chords. Mujared smiled. "Okay, okay," I said, gradually calming down, "You're a genie, and I've freed you. So why are you still here?" "I have to grant your wish." "The wish! Yes, the wish. Do I have to make it now?" "Not if you don't want to. I've been hanging around your family for just over a hundred years now, and I'm certain I could wait a little longer." Mujared smiled a friendly smile. I laughed again. "So, Mujared, pleased to meet you." I said, holding out my hand. He took it in his huge paw. "My name's Frank." "I know." "So when did you actually get trapped in the bottle?" Mujared and I were sitting at a table at a local bar. He had shrunk himself down to a more human size and exchanged his silk wrappings for jeans and a sweater. With his smooth looks and dark complexion he was attracting glances from the barmaids. "It was Hotpotep I who put me in the bottle. He was a very powerful magician at the court of Menes. It must have been just over five thousand years ago." "Why did he do it?" "We were at war." "What happened?" "Menes eventually won, and united Egypt. He established his capital at Memphis." "Why a bottle?" "A skilled magician can command a genie as long as the genie's essence remains contained. Hotpotep used me to aid in the war effort." "One thing really confuses me about all of this. If I am not mad, or dreaming, then you exist, and therefore so does magic. How come nobody in the world knows about this? Where did it all go?" "You own a car, Frank. If you want to go to visit friends many miles away you use it, don't you, instead of running?" "Of course. This is related?" "Well, in my own obscure way. Anyway, you could run, but you don't. In fact, you could probably only run for half an hour before you got too tired to carry on. You're just not as fit as you once were, Frank." Mujared smiled. "Just get to the point!" "Many many thousands of years ago, human tribes used to run for days after food, which was generally running to get away from them. Agriculture came along, and then only warriors needed to be able to run or march for days to go to battle. Then horses were tamed and finally cars came along. Now there are only perhaps a couple of thousand people in the world who can run for more than a day, and they are generally those whom technology has not caught up with yet, although there are also a few nutters out there." I caught Mujared's wry grin and smiled too. "So we don't need to run for days, and the talent has been lost. Likewise with magic?" "You got it." "Are there still a few nutters out there who practise magic?" "Of course!" "Could I meet one?" "If you wish?" "Oh, no, I'm not going to go wasting that just for an interview." After a few days I began to get used to the fact that Mujared existed. We were spending a lot of time out together as Mujared took in all the sights of a world that he hadn't seen a whole lot of in the last five thousand years. Apparently, time flies when you're stuck in a bottle. It apparently also gives a genie a great sense of humour. Mujared was an insatiable practical joker. Eventually I threatened to stop his bucket-of-water-on-top-of-the-door antics by wishing that he would be returned to his bottle. "No can do!" He replied with that irrepressible grin. "Why not?" "Well, I could do it and leave the top off, so I'd be straight back out anyway. But the major limitation is that I don't have to grant a wish if I don't want to." "You have to grant what I wish for though?" "I don't have to, I want to." "So are there limitations? Can you interpret my wish the way you want to, like you just said about leaving your own bottle top off?" "I can interpret your wish the way I want to, limit it, or even refuse it. But I gave you this wish as a gift, not a curse. I have no interest in misdirecting your wish. As to defined limitations, yes, there are some. The major one is that you can only ask for something less powerful than the wish itself. So you can't ask for two wishes, or to become a genie or a god - " "Do they exist?" I asked, interrupting Mujared. "Yes, they do. Anyway, as I was saying, it must be less powerful than the wish itself." "Can I ask for magical powers?" "Yes, you can ask for one power, or one spell, or for one magical item. Actually, you can ask for more than one spell, as long as you are unable to use them simultaneously." "So I could have something like a book of spells?" "If you wish?" "Hang on, I'm just getting this idea together." I was spending some time alone. Not only was I now used to the fact that Genies existed, but Mujared had taken a few opportunities to display his powers. We had flown around the city a bit, transported down to Egypt to visit a few of his old haunts. I had come to realise how much potential power I had in my grasp. So I had begun to think seriously about what I would wish for. I had plenty of scenarios in my head. I had spent many idle moments dreaming of what I would do if this situation ever came about. Of course, I had never believed it could actually happen. The other downer was that I had always imagined three wishes. Now I had just one, and whatever I wished for I would have to live with. No escape clause. Immortality was out then, just in case I really couldn't stick it. I was quite happy with just one lifetime anyway. Wealth? I had accounts that were just piling up cash from my holdings and I really didn't know what to do with it. Power? What power? Flight? So that I could be spotted by some scientist then captured and put in a lab. Invisibility? What for? To watch women undressing? Or perhaps to steal from jewellers? I could wish for all the jewels I wanted anyway. I went through a whole list and couldn't find anything that was going to change my life, unless I was going to become a superhero, and spend my whole life chasing down the bad guys and running from the government scientists again. I'm no superhero. What about women? I'd had a couple of long term girlfriends. The attraction fizzled out. How about power over women, so that I could pick and choose. But then part of the attraction to me was the uncertainty. Not knowing whether the beautiful recipient of your attention was going to slap you or sleep with you. They really did have power, and the really attractive ones knew it. I was always jealous of the way that they could pick and choose, the way that a wink from one could turn my knees to jelly. If I had that power, I could rule the world. And it wasn't magical, it wasn't life- changing, it was just completely natural. "Mujared, it's time to talk about this wish." My genie friend walked in from the kitchen wiping his hands with a towel after doing the washing up. "Are you decided?" he asked. "I'm pretty sure. But there is one thing I have to ask you." "Go ahead." "What are you going to do once you've granted this wish? Where are you going to go?" "I might hang around here a bit longer. I'll probably travel. Eventually I'll try to find some of my old friends." "Would I still be able to find you? You know, just in case?" "Well, like I said, I'll hang around here a bit. But," he continued with a querying look, "I'm hoping there'll be no just in case." "Me too. Well," I smiled at him, "here goes. Why don't you sit down?" "It's like this," I began, tentatively. "I don't need anything more out of life, except perhaps experience. I have money, I am happy, and I don't want to change the world. So, I've decided to enact a fantasy that I've been working out over the last couple of days. I want to experience life as a woman." "That's it?" Asked Mujared. "That's simple. For how long?" "Well, that's part of the fantasy. Forever, for the simple reason that if I ever became a mother, there would be no way I'd want to change back, and that possibility must exist." "Okay," said Mujared. "Are you sure about this?" "Therein lies the other part of the fantasy," I continued. "Given the opportunity I would never choose to become a woman ? too much effort in the real world for an incomplete solution, and the pain of explaining to friends and family would scare me to death. So, someone else is going to do this to me, to change me into a woman, I mean. That way I will feel no guilt over the decision." "You do have a plan then?" "Yes, I think so. Steve is at that computer of his all times of day and night. I want you to arrange for him to find, on an obscure site somewhere, a spell, which when cast enables the caster to transform people mentally and physically with the ingestion of their fresh sperm. Each change can only be small, but noticeable. The spell is intended for men to use on women, but Steve has no girlfriends, no chance of getting one, and not enough cash to even hire one, so he'll think of someone else to try the spell out on, which will be me. Eventually he will transform me into the ultimate combination of all his sexual fantasies, and I know he has plenty because he's subscribed to more sex sites than most teenagers, poor deprived guy." "Steve will have control over your eventual form? Are you certain about this, because once you wish this, there is no going back." "You're going to grant this wish then?" "Certainly! It sounds like a lot of fun!" "I hope so. There is one thing. I don't want to end up as some kind of brainless bimbo. At the end of the transformation I want to be myself mentally." "Finished?" "Yes, that's it." "Are you going to wish for this then?" "Oh, yeah." I laughed. "I wish for this to happen." I looked at Mujared. Nothing happened. "Is that it?" "What else did you want?" "Did you actually grant my wish?" "Wish? What are you talking about?" Mujared stood up. "Anyway, I've got to go. Marie will be getting worried sick." "Marie? Who's Marie?" He headed for the door. "You really should see someone about your memory, Frank. I know we only got married last week but you were the best man! See you around!" The door closed behind him. Then it opened again. "Hi, Frank!" It was Steve. "I just saw Mujared leaving. How's his wife?" Steve knew Mujared? But he hadn't been here! And he knew about his wife? I thought he was having me on. What was going on? "Er, she's fine, Steve." I turned and headed for the kitchen. Steve went straight for his room. Over the next couple of weeks further odd things occurred. I met Marie. She was an ex-girlfriend of mine whom I had apparently introduced to Mujared in our last year in college, after we had split up. I found photos of the wedding on a film in my camera. Mujared himself failed to recognise any reference to himself being a genie. Finally I gave up. This was certainly the most complex practical joke he had ever played. So I had to resolve to live with it, otherwise I was going to be talked into admitting that I had dreamt the whole thing. Another major occurrence was the fact that I ordered Steve to leave. Once more he was behind in his rent and begging that there was just no way he could get the money together so soon. After a heated slanging match I gave him two days to pack up and get out. I have to admit, I didn't sleep well that night, and neither did he judging by the sounds coming from his room until the early hours of the morning. When I awoke the next morning, I felt like I hadn't slept at all. That probably explained the salty stickiness on the inside of my mouth. As I rolled over to get out of bed I noticed a glint underneath my wardrobe. I slid out of bed and crouched down to retrieve it. It was a bottle. It was Mujared's bottle. Shit! I was going to go face him with this this evening, and see how he could explain himself away this time. Steve was very bright and cheerful. It was almost as though he wasn't getting thrown out tomorrow. He even offered to make me a coffee. "Yeah," I replied to the question. "I'll need something to clear out my mouth." "What's up? Drink too much last night?" "Feels like it." I replied. "But I didn't touch a drop." "Did you clean your teeth?" He asked with a bright smile, returning with the coffee. "How come you're so friendly? What've you put in my coffee?" I was a little suspicious suddenly. "Nothing. No, really, last night I sorted out a lot of my problems. I took a lot of what you said to heart and I've figured things out." "You're still leaving tomorrow." "Look, if you still want me to leave tomorrow, I'll be out before noon." He turned and headed back to his room. I spent the day checking on my various apartments and properties, collecting monthly rents and banking them. I also found time to arrange a few of my assets more to my satisfaction, including buying and selling a few more shares in assorted companies, and looking for a property that I could convert into a hotel. That was to be my next project. I needed something to pass the time. Toward the evening I remembered that I was going to call round on Mujared and confront him with the bottle. I called him on the mobile, but he wasn't in. Anyway, I seemed to be going down with a headache, so I headed for home. I found myself searching the kitchen for something when I got in, but nothing seemed to be the right thing to satisfy my hunger so I took a couple of aspirin and hit the sack. I had the weirdest dreams. I was walking along the seashore and I came to a rockpool. Sticking my head in I began to lick the salt along the rocks. Then I found myself at Mujared's flat and he opened a bottle, and Steve came out like a cloud. He looked at me and then grinned evilly and I found myself being sucked into the bottle. That's when I woke. There was that same salty taste in my mouth. Was I going down with something? A cold perhaps, or the flu? The headache was gone at least. After a shower I went to get breakfast. Steve was still in his room. There was no noise so I assumed he was still sleeping. I hadn't even thought of getting someone in to replace him. I thought of what I could do with the space once he was out. I knew I was going to have to hang around today to make sure he went. I was sorry, but sometimes these things had to be done. I consoled myself with the fact that having him around was bad for business, but I did feel sorry for him. Eleven o'clock came and went and still Steve hadn't emerged from his room. So I went to wake him up. He didn't need waking. He was sat at his computer, and from the guilty look that came over his face as he turned to the door he had been checking out his favourite women on the net. "Frank! That time come already, huh?" I'm afraid so, Steve. I just wanted to make sure that you were all ready to go." Steve turned back to face his computer. He just sat there for a few moments, and then I caught an odd gesture. He was crossing his fingers, like for luck. "You don't really want me to leave, do you, Frank?" "No, Steve, I don't really want you to go," I said, feeling worse about the whole situation suddenly, "but that doesn't change the fact that you haven't paid your rent, and you have to leave." "No, no, no!" Said Steve, suddenly looking a little frantic. "That's not what I meant. I meant, you want me to stay, don't you?" I began to get a little worried by his new attitude, like he was going to get angry with me or something. "Yes, I want you to stay." I said, hoping to placate him. He laughed out loud in relief. "So you're letting me stay then? You don't want me to pay? No, I mean, you don't want me to pay." He stated, putting emphasis on the 'don't'. "You can stay. I don't want you to pay." What was coming over me? Suddenly I was almost afraid of Steve. Afraid of his anger. Afraid of doing anything to upset him. He laughed again, a long, simple laugh, almost sighing. "It really worked." He said, mostly to himself. "Shit! Unbelievable!! No, wait, you're not kidding me now, are you, Frank. You really do want me to stay?" "Yes," I said more forcefully, "I want you to stay." "I'm going to try something out, Frank. Please don't get upset or scared by this. Drop your trousers!" Did I hear that right? Steve was telling me, no, commanding me to drop my trousers. I looked at him in shocked surprise. "I said drop your trousers, Frank. Do it!" Steve's tone brooked no argument. I hurriedly loosened my belt and slipped my trousers down to my ankles. "Good boy!" For some reason the compliment registered almost as strongly with me as the command had done previously. I smiled embarrassedly at Steve, like I would have done had a woman at a bar told me I was good looking. "Can I pick them up again now?" I asked gently, afraid to upset him. I really didn't want him to be upset. "Sure. Just one more thing, Frank, do you feel any odd cravings at the moment? Hungry? Thirsty?" "No, Steve, not right now." Odd question, I thought. "Okay. Well, you just be sure to come back to me when you do." I left the room and decided to go out to visit Mujared. I didn't want to be in if Steve didn't want me there. Mujared was out. It was almost as though he was suddenly avoiding me. I really would have liked to talk with him. The events of the last couple of weeks were strange enough, but what had transpired between Steve and myself this morning had been downright weird. I know I had felt sorry for him, but to keep him on like this? He hadn't even really asked, he had told me to keep him on, and I had submitted. Then the trousers thing. I mean, I wasn't embarrassed or anything, but thinking back on it I did something really out of the ordinary, and because he told me to. Had he hypnotised me or something? If so, I was the one who had to get out of the flat and avoid him before anything else occurred. Yet there was this strange feeling. I couldn't place it but though I'd just eaten lunch I felt an odd hunger. Perhaps a type of craving, but I couldn't think of what for. Steve had said that if I should experience an odd craving I should see him about it. I did want to avoid him based on my earlier suspicions, but I should really talk to him about this. I could pick up my stuff at the same time and leave the flat for somewhere else. "Frank, how can I help you?" Said Steve, opening his door. "You did say that I should come to see you if I experienced any odd cravings. Anyway, I thought I should tell you at the same time that I'm moving out of the flat." "Are you?" Asked Steve. "Why's that?" "Well, our relationship hasn't been too great recently, and what with you staying on here I thought it would be best if I left." "Come in," he said, gesturing to his bed with his hand. It was the only place in the room where there was space to sit. "We ought to talk this over." "Do we have something to talk about?" "I do. You see, your odd craving is intimately tied to me. The night you told me to leave I wanted to do something really bad to you, as a kind of revenge. I've been having it really hard recently, and your decision was the last straw. I don't like being pushed around. Then I found this site on the web. What a page, you know, occult and stuff. Anyway, this guy, thousands of years ago, decided that he didn't like his wife pushing him around, so he decided to take control and wrote a spell to do it. I cast the spell on myself. It makes my cum magical, and gives me control over whoever it gets in to. I guess that guy didn't bank on it being usable against other guys. Anyway, you've been drinking it for the last two nights. "First I made you addicted to it, and then I made you completely submissive to me. And just because I've got a place to stay now don't think it's over! No, now I can make my fantasies come true, and you're going to become one of them! Kneel down!" The command was abrupt and forceful. I sank off the bed and onto my knees in front of him. I looked up into his face as he pulled out his dick and began to masturbate himself. I had an intense feeling of deja vu. The grin on his face was the same evil one that I had seen in my dream. Was I about to be sucked into the bottle? With his penis hard in moments sweat began to form on his forehead. "Open your mouth!" He commanded. "And keep it open." I complied. With a sudden sense of fear I knew exactly what he was going to do, and in the same moment it happened. He came in my mouth. And over the rest of my face as well. I wanted to gag, choke, cough, be sick and any other physical reaction to a repulsive action, yet something else overcame all those reactions. For some reason, I needed the cum. I don't know if it was more of a physical or mental desire, but I knew that if I ate it, it would relieve the craving. "Drink it!" There was no choice now. Steve's command overrode any objections my mind was putting up. I drank the cum. Every last drop. It was sticky, gluey, salty and slippery, but my stomach wasn't objecting. He laughed. A long laugh, as though the whole situation was a great joke. I didn't find it that funny. "What have you done to me now?" He took a few breaths. "Well," he said, "I kind of like long hair on my girlfriends, don't you?" I stood up to look in Steve's washroom mirror. He didn't object. My hair looked the same to me. Maybe he was deluded about having physical control over me and it was just mental. I could escape that. "Don't worry, it doesn't grow straight away." He laughed again. "You can go now. But stick around, I'll probably be inviting you back in just as soon as I've recovered. Now that I'm started with you I can't wait for the finished object!" My hair did grow. Probably about an inch an hour. It was touching my shoulders when Steve came out of his room and found me in mine. This time he had a glass containing his sperm. I drank it on his command, though I must admit that when I saw it, I didn't really need to be commanded to drink it. I guess I was resigned to the fact that I would anyway. "It repulses me to see you drink that probably as much as it repulses you to drink it." Said Steve, matter of factly. "I really don't get any sexual kicks from homosexual stuff. But, hey, we all have to make sacrifices for pleasure. Some of us more than others." I knew exactly whom he meant. "What will happen this time?" I asked. "You know, I spent a long time wondering why you didn't leave in the last couple of hours. Then I figured I told you to stick around. I might forget to do that some other time, so I had to figure out a way of keeping you here for a while. This might hurt a little bit." As he said those words I began to feel an ache in my feet which quickly spread up to my ankle and grew in intensity. I fell back onto my bed in pain as the bones in my feet began to creak, distorting and remoulding themselves into a new formation. The pain shot constantly up the back of my ankle through various tendons. That was the worst pain. Whilst the pain in my feet was a creaking, cracking pain, that in my ankles was a shooting, high, stretching pain that was the equivalent of nails being scraped down a blackboard. The pain lasted for hours, or perhaps minutes, as when I regained my senses Steve was still watching me. "It won't ever be that bad again, I don't think. At least, I will either concentrate on smaller parts or spread the change over larger parts. This was just necessary. Anyway, we have to test out my handiwork. Stand up." I really didn't want to use my feet. I could still feel echoes of the pain. I looked down at them. It looked as though I was pointing my toes downward, like a gymnast might, though not as straight. I flexed my right foot to point it out straight without a problem. I tried to flex the foot so that the toes pointed back toward me, and though I could feel the strains and pressures, my toes still pointed slightly downwards. I put my feet on the floor and went to stand, but fell straight back off my heels and onto my backside on the bed. Steve giggled into his hand. "Go on. Try again." I placed my toes on to the floor and managed to stand up on tiptoe. I tried to get my heels onto the floor but they remained about an inch off it unless I leaned back, which would lead to me falling over again. The only way I could stand unsupported was on tiptoe. That became very tiring within moments. I sat down again. "Don't worry," said Steve, "I'll go out and get you some new shoes tomorrow. In the meantime you can crawl around the flat for anything you need." With that he left me alone to contemplate what I'd let myself in for. This was it. From this point onward there was no way I could back out of this wish. I probably wouldn't have been able to anyway ? Mujared had been either denying that he had any powers or ignoring me completely. Now that I knew the wish was working there was no way I could get to him. Well, I'd wished for this. Was I stupid or what? I'd not wished for money on the basis that I had plenty. How the hell could I get to it if I was at Steve's beck and call? I'd not wished for some magical mutant power on the basis that I didn't want to change my life too much. Here I'd gone and put my life in the hands of a sex-starved nerd. Far from having power I was his to command. And to humiliate. Suddenly I realised the atrocity of my position. It is often said that a major sexual fantasy among women is to be raped, but that they never want the fantasy to become real. For some incredible reason I had wished for my rape fantasy to become real. And I felt humiliated. And I felt used, bruised, broken and helpless. I lay back on my bed and began to pray that there was not worse to come. When I woke in the morning there was that same sticky, salty residue in my mouth. I stood to go to the bathroom and immediately fell back onto the bed. "Shit!" I swore out loud as I felt pain shooting through my feet. I tried again, this time tiptoeing over to the bathroom and putting my weight onto my hands on the sink. In the mirror I could see my hair now grown down to about the base of my shoulder blades. There was something else as well. I couldn't quite put my finger on it at first, then suddenly it was obvious. I looked like I'd had a nose job. My nose was now small, straight and turned up slightly at the end. In short, a woman's nose. On my plain face it looked like some kind of cosmic joke. My old big and broken conk had been replaced by something that belonged above the lips on a commercial. Actually, were my lips a little larger too? Or was it just the nose? I washed, brushed my teeth and shaved, not daring to take a shower for fear of falling in the bath because of my feet. I didn't bother to dress. Somehow I knew that I wouldn't be going out today. Not if I could only walk about twenty yards at a time before needing to sit down. Steve would be after me within moments. Unless, I thought, unless he couldn't move for long enough to catch me. With that in mind I dressed myself. No shoes would fit though. Steve came in as I was pulling on my socks. "Thinking of going somewhere?" I kept quiet. If I could catch Steve unawares perhaps I could knock him out with something then get to the phone for a taxi, or to call Mujared? There was nothing to hand though. "Here!" I looked up. "I've brought this for you." Another glass of his sperm. Well, anyway, at least if I drank this I wouldn't be suffering the effects of withdrawal while I was trying to make my escape. I downed the lot. "Good girl!" He commented. "Not yet." I said under my breath. "Sorry, I didn't quite hear that. Say it again, but louder." "I said, not yet!" I squeaked. What the hell had happened to my voice! "You bastard! What have you done." "Hey, no need for insults. I've just given you a great singing voice." He probably had. It was about two octaves higher and I sounded like my mother used to. All plans of calling Mujared just went out of the window. Still, I was pissed, and plan b came into action of it's own accord. I swung my fist at Steve's face. It connected and he went down in a heap. Unfortunately, I'm no boxer, and he was still conscious, and looking shocked. Before he had a chance to recover I leapt at him. Mistake. The pain tore through my achilles again as I forgot my disability. Instead of flying at his face I landed painfully at his feet. "Stop it!!" He yelled. I cowered down. "You have just earned yourself hell without reprieve, Frankie, my girl. I'm going to make sure you suffer, and that you don't enjoy it. I was just going to make you into woman that I would enjoy fucking. Now I reckon you're going to have to become a woman I enjoy fucking around with. Go sit on the bed!" I dragged myself to my knees and crawled to the side of the bed. I sat on it. Steve got up and stood in front of me. Once again he masturbated into my mouth, though I could see that he didn't enjoy cumming so soon after the last effort. This transformation was not going to be quick. This time the pain was in my hips, and once more it was excruciating as bones remoulded themselves and flesh moved into new positions. At the end of the experience I went to check my groin. The bits I was looking for were still there. Concentrating on feeling what had happened I realised that my legs felt as though they'd been turned in to face each other, and the curving of my pelvis had pushed my backside prominently out behind me. As I looked myself over, I realised that it did not look as bad as it felt, and that my feet were still facing out in front of me. "Stand up!" Ordered Steve. "Walk!" I did so, and realised that the realignment of my hips now meant that I couldn't swing my legs like I used to. In fact, each step was forced in front of the other one giving an exaggerated swing to my hips. I couldn't even keep up walking like that for two steps without support as my centre of gravity was spun all over the place. "Now you ain't going nowhere, bitch!" He stated viciously. To prove his point he nudged me with his fist and I fell backwards to the floor. Before I could get back to my feet he was gone. I lay back on my bed. All hope was gone. I began to cry. Lunch was a couple of tomatoes and an apple, and a transformation that I felt all over my body. Being stuck in my bed I was unable to see what had happened. During the afternoon Steve came in with a load of garbage bags and proceeded to place all of my clothes and shoes in them. Some he took to his own room. After a few quiet hours he came back into my room with a couple of shopping bags. "You don't know how embarrassing it was for me to get these, Frankie. Another joyous experience that you can pay me back for." He took out a shoebox from one, and from that a pair of stiletto heeled sandals, in black. "Put these on. I'd love to see how they look. Don't worry though, you won't have them long." I had no idea what that meant. It didn't sound menacing. I strapped them on to my feet. "Now take a walk to the kitchen." I stood up. The experience was so odd. Standing on the shoes it felt so normal. The two inch heels made me feel like I had felt the day before when standing on level ground. I headed for the kitchen. Even the exaggerated sway of my hips didn't catch me out as each foot seemed to naturally find its place. What's more, wearing the shoes enabled me to tuck my backside in straighter, everything coinciding to make me feel normal again. Normal but for the fact I was walking in heels like some kind of catwalk model. In the kitchen I turned to face Steve. "Well done!" He said, pleased. "Now I know that you can walk from the bedroom to the kitchen. From now on you'll cook all my meals and bring me drinks when I require. You'll also do all the washing up, and other household chores. I suppose you'd better start now. You need a lot of practice." With that he left me alone. Shrugging to myself I reached for the washing up liquid. Life did settle into a routine for the next couple of days. That evening Steve set my nails growing. They stopped at about half-an-inch long. He obviously didn't want to make my jobs easy for me. My hair stopped growing once it had reached the small of my back. I couldn't spot anything new in the morning though my new shoes seemed a little loose when I put them on. At midday my jaw-line was reshaped and during the afternoon my hands followed suit. Before I went to bed Steve reshaped my lips. I looked like the ugliest guy on the face of the planet for the next day. When I woke up in the morning and looked in my bathroom mirror I finally began to realise what had been happening to me overnight. I had been getting shorter. I was still wearing the two inch heels, but I was now noticeably shorter than my former 5'11", perhaps 5'9", which put me eye to eye with Steve. Without the heels I would be around 5'7" if I could stand flat on the ground. The height loss must have had a corresponding weight loss, though being in a man's bathroom I had no scales with which to check. That day involved alterations to my eyes, teeth and head shape. Overnight I lost all my hair apart from that on my head and genital region. Finally, when I looked in the mirror in the morning I looked normal. For a woman, at least. I really didn't look too bad. I think Steve had taken most of his inspiration from Cindy Crawford, obviously bearing in mind my brown hair and eyes. Still, the flat chest, muscular arms and the contents of my boxer shorts told another story. I headed into the kitchen to prepare breakfast and then took it into Steve in his room. The room was looking a lot better, even if I do say so myself. Steve actually complimented me on my appearance, even though he did say I could use a little makeup. I actually blushed. It was still obvious how much power his words held over me. "Actually," he said, "I could probably imagine you were a woman if you kept your clothes on." He was right. I hadn't noticed that he'd been concentrating on the extremities first ? hands, feet and face. With a bit of padding I could probably pass as a woman, even talking. "So," he continued, "I can probably get past my hang-ups over gay sex now. Let's try it out and see what happens. Frankie," he said, more commandingly, "you're going to give me a blow job, and you're going to make it as good as you possibly can for me, with plenty of moans, groans and dick-worshipping gestures." There was no resistance. When he spoke to my like that I simply had to do his bidding. I felt as though resistance would be severely punished, but I also felt as though there were simply no other options except those that Steve allowed. He moved his duvet aside and I sank down onto his exposed penis. One thing remained in my favour, overpowering all other emotions. This cock produced Steve's sperm, and I wanted some of that badly. Placing my lips directly over the head I proceeded to suck, whilst moving my head slowly up and down. The taste wasn't all bad. Sweaty, perhaps, but with a residue of salty sperm that was to me like chocolate spread on a plain biscuit. I began to lick it off. Steve reacted by pushing my head down forcefully onto his dick and then proceeding to fuck my mouth. I gagged and swore, but the words came out as a muffled cry. Fortunately, Steve had not experienced many blowjobs, if he had ever had anything other than the loving attention of his hands, and he came into my mouth as soon as he heard my moan. My reward for the blow of his life was a tingle running through my arms for the rest of the day. By the evening they had lost all their muscle and seemed to me to be as thin as broom handles. Lunch was another meal of Steve's meat and the shrinking of my shoulders. The afternoon work began on my stomach. Evening saw a start being made on resizing my chest. By morning I could see that I had narrower, but proportional shoulders and slim arms. My chest didn't look different as it was now in proportion too. And what had been a reasonably toned abdomen was now as smooth as an ironing board, and as flat. My legs were still too big, but something had happened to them. Unless Steve just liked his women with low centres of gravity. Perhaps not. The new day saw my legs transformed into perfect pins, slender and suave. Then my chest began to sprout growths. I suppose I had been waiting for this day. Really the product of a normal boyish fantasy it had always been my desire to know what breasts felt like. Now I was growing a pair of my own. They were initially small, and much harder than I had imagined, but they soon blossomed into prominence, proudly sticking out from my ribs. In fact, they looked my larger to me than they actually were, as they ended the afternoon around a b-cup. They dragged down on my chest mildly uncomfortably, though I could get used to it. They didn't feel all too wonderful either, being no more sensitive than my own chest had been, although the enlargement of the aureolae and nipples provided a greater erogenous zone. In fact, in my own experimentation I came to the conclusion that they were actually more of a hindrance than they were worth. That evening Steve asked me for an opinion on my new bust. "I don't really like it. Well, I'm sure a bra could help 'cause they're really getting annoying when I move around." He placed his hands on my tits and began to feel them. It didn't even occur to me to resist. "This doesn't feel good?" "It feels okay, but not much better than when you stroke my backside, or run your fingers through my hair." "Hmmm." He muttered, his hands not ceasing their roaming around my new nipples. "Tomorrow we'll go shopping for a bra for you. Today we'll just have to think of something else." The something else came about two minutes later, after the evening blow. I felt a tingle begin in my crotch region. I thought it was the beginning of the end for my descent into womanhood, but it wasn't to be. The tingle passed up through my abdomen and spine, and sank into my tits from behind, gradually narrowing and intensifying as it progressed toward my nipples. The feeling was somewhere between an itch and a tickle, and I grabbed my tits in an effort to reduce or avoid the sensation. The contact only served to provide a focus for the ecstasy that I suddenly felt, and I groaned as a grabbed my tits tighter and forced them against my chest. The tingling intensified and began to pulse in waves back down to my groin from under my hands. I moved my hands around my tits to scratch the infernal itch but merely producing stronger waves of erotic pleasure. My cock hardened and began to pulse, and I began to thrust my hips around in response to its demands. I couldn't reach for it as my hands were stuck to my chest, grabbing and stroking. I began to play with my nipples, finding there a more concentrated pleasure source. Bucking and thrusting, my cock was rubbing against my jeans, finding little stimulation but aching for relief as my thoughts sank into oblivion behind the pleasure overload coursing through my body. I felt my cock being released from its confines. It leapt up to new heights and I blindly thrust it out toward whatever was offering the alleviation of my situation. My eyes were closed and my moaning made thought inaudible. Perhaps a palm clasped around my pulsing member, and within moments the extra stimulation caused two wave-fronts of pleasure to collide, contractions ran through every muscle group of my body, and then they all exploded outward, spraying my cum all over the room. "Interesting." Commented Steve plainly as I came down from the cloud I had been on. "I hadn't realised that playing with a dick could be such a turn on, but then it should be when it's attached to such a sexy woman as yourself. "What did you do to me?" "I merely solved the predicament. Your tits are now incredibly sensitive to pleasure. If I was you I'd try to get control over them. Once you've started playing with them, you might not be able to stop." I groaned. Steve's fantasy woman had tits that elicited the kind of reactions you would expect from a porn star. I suddenly realised a couple of mistakes that had entered into my own desires. The first was in becoming Steve's fantasy woman. So far it had been heading toward a fairly reasonable ending, but this changed things. The second was that I had asked to remain mentally unchanged, but this last event was a demonstration of how much power the body had over the mind. And his comment about playing with my dick? Was he going to make me keep it? The last question had been answered by the next morning. I thought back. It was a Tuesday, and the seventh day since I had told Steve to leave. The sixth night had seen my penis disappear. I actually didn't notice until I got into my morning bath, and began to wash the area. The disappearance wasn't a shock ? it felt quite natural ? but it did prompt me to think about my situation again. I had wished to become a woman. The transformation was complete. I wasn't changed mentally, so Mujared had stuck by his word, though I was worried about remaining entirely submissive to Steve. Shouldn't he restore my more masculine nature? And addiction to his sperm wasn't physically possible either, was it? The resulting form was beautiful, I decided as I got out of the bath. Looking in my mirror I could see a tall, slim woman. I stepped into my heels and stood at just under 5'9". I was curvaceous, with pleasantly rounded tits that looked smaller in the mirror than they felt on my body. I put my hand up to weigh one, and immediately felt the urge to cup them both and stroke them, and a pulse of pleasure shot through my new plumbing. I pulled my hand away. This could make putting on a bra a real chore. My hair tumbled down into the small of my back, stopping just above my rounded buttcheeks. My legs were slim and long, seeming to extend up into my armpits. My hips weren't wide, and my waist was slim. My face was reminiscent of Cindy Crawford, but I could still see my own brown eyes, even if they seemed a little wider. I started to inspect it for blemishes. I didn't hear Steve enter the bathroom, but I felt the cold air blow in. I turned around, wrapping my towel around me. He whistled. I blushed slightly. I could feel it. "Drop the towel." I slowly lowered it to the floor. He wasted no time in removing his bathrobe as I stood there. I wasn't turned on by his scrawny body. This was the first time I had seen it in all its naked glory. Small and skinny. Even his cock looked tiny, as it started to erect. Tiny or not, though, it was that sperm source that attracted my attention. Steve watched me eyeing it up. "You will have it in a moment, Frank, or should I call you Francesca? Frankie, that will do." The abuse of my name riled me for a moment. "I'm going to take your virginity with it. The problem is, I know you're looking forward to that, but only because of the addiction I gave you. So, I'm going to remove that." I looked up at him. This was it! Freedom. "Anyway, I'm going to have to replace it with something else, because you're a man, and men really don't like to fuck other men. You look like a woman, and that's fine for me, but for you it's a problem. I'm just going to have to turn you into a proper woman." What! He wasn't supposed to be messing with my mind! What the hell was he going to do now? I reached for my towel. "Stop!" I looked at him. "Drop it!" I did. He walked over to me and ran a finger up my side. I cringed away slightly. Then he reached across for my nipple, catching it and rolling it between his finger and thumb. I moaned and tried to pull away from the erotic shock that arose, but he reached up with his other hand to cup my other breast. I grabbed for his hands, clasping them tightly into my bosom. My mind went blank and I began to rub my body against his hands, and thrust my hips toward the pleasure source. I came in a glorious technicolour explosion as I felt his sperm gush into my mouth. As I kneeled on the floor recovering my senses I felt a peculiar buzzing in my head. Perhaps it wasn't a buzzing, as it wasn't audible, but I could feel it as a kind of physical fuzziness. The bastard was playing with my head! I shook it, as hard as I could, but some sort of cloud seemed to be settled into it. I looked up at Steve. "What have you done?" I asked. "It's the first part of turning you into a woman." He stated. "I've made you dumb." "But you're not allowed to do that!" I cried. "What do you mean, not allowed?" "When I made the wish I said that I didn't want my mind to be changed." Steve looked at me carefully. "What wish was that, Frankie?" Oops. What was I saying? I'd told him about the wish. He wasn't supposed to know about that, was he? "Not a wish. I mean?no, I mean, um-" "Frankie?" "Well, there was this genie, and I made a wish and I wanted to be a beautiful woman and you were going to change me because I didn't want to do it myself. But you weren't allowed to change my brain!" "I see. But I have changed your brain, so something went wrong. What exactly did you wish for, Frankie?" "I wished that you would find a spell on your computer that would make your cum magical and that you could change people with it to whatever you want. And then I wished that you would change me into a fantasy woman. But I didn't want to be a bimbo so I remember asking that I would be myself at the end of it." Steve barely suppressed a laugh. "My dear Frankie, oh, this is a treat. Who ever said that this was the end? That I had finished?" I suppose that made sense. If he hadn't finished turning me into his fantasy woman, then he could mess with my head. "But while I enjoy the irony of your situation, tell me, where is the genie now?" "He's ? well, he's ? I don't know." "Not very convincing, Frankie. You know you must tell me. Tell me." "It's Mujared." There, said it. Oh, I hope I wasn't getting him into any trouble! Steve couldn't suppress the laugh this time. "Are you trying to tell me that your best friend, sorry, ex-best friend, is a genie?" "Yes." I responded, a little petulantly. "Where's his lamp?" "It was a bottle. And it's in my room." "I think we should go and drag it out. Then I'll have to invite Mujared and Marie over for dinner." Steve took me outside the flat for the first time since the beginning of my physical transformation began. We went shopping, with my credit cards! Somehow I felt like he should have been buying me stuff, and not me paying for it myself. Everywhere we went he paraded me like a trophy on his arm. But I liked it. The looks that he and I were getting made me feel quite proud of myself and the way I looked. After buying myself a couple of outfits, he took me into a Salon, where I sat for a couple of hours whilst my hair, nails and makeup were treated to an overhaul. The final product, including waved, conditioned hair, and a flawless face with enhanced eyes and lips made me gasp when I saw it in the mirror. I was beautiful. I saw a really beautiful woman in front of me, and though I tried to consider myself rationally, I couldn't quite grasp the concept that this wasn't how I was meant to be. The picture eventually framed itself in my mind as my face. Pretty faces were meant to be shown off by women and admired by men. Again, the only simple logic that I could follow from that told me that I had to be admired by men. Suddenly I revelled in vain, flirtatious, ultimately feminine thoughts. I gave Steve a kiss. Back at the flat I began to prepare dinner. Leaving a casserole to cook in the oven I went to my room to get dressed. I chose a new pair of shoes, red, to go with a red cocktail dress. I was slightly uncomfortable on the heels, which were higher than I'd worn before. Steve came in to see the finished article and when I saw how impressed he looked I felt wonderful, and went over to kiss him again. I had to bend down very slightly and my hair fell into his face, but he returned the kiss passionately. I knew what that meant, and anyway I was feeling hungry in that way, so I went down on him. A quick pang of fear led me to check my dressing table. My lipstick was there. It was okay, I would be able to touch up again afterwards. The blow was short and sweet, and afterwards I felt the old tingle right throughout my body. I stood up again to kiss Steve before re-applying my make-up. I had to reach up slightly this time. Huh? Did he get taller? Dinner was odd. Steve had ordered me to pretend that I was his girlfriend, Francesca, and that Frank had gone away on holiday. Mujared wasn't too upset, but Marie seemed to miss him. I served everyone right up to brandies, when the guys went down to sit in front of the TV and talk. I wanted to join them, but Marie trapped me in the kitchen. "So," she began, "when did you meet Steve?" "Oh, I've known him since he moved here." "I have to be honest, Francesca, you're a good-looking woman, what the hell attracted you to Steve?" What was I supposed to say to that? I stood, lost for words. "It's okay, honey, I didn't mean to insult your boyfriend. He's really a nice guy. But there must be something about him that I haven't noticed?" "I guess there is something." "Yeah, go on girl, what is it?" Marie pressed. "He, er, he kinda made me who I am." "What, he's a closet psychotherapist or something?" "Umm?" "He has friends who are great plastic surgeons?" "Something like that." "Something like what? Come on, honey, you can tell me anything." "I don't know if you'll believe me. I mean, it's like magic or something. He can transform me every time I give him a blow job." I looked up at Marie sheepishly. She looked surprisingly un-shocked. She took a deep breath. "Well, I can think of other forms of payment, but none that men would rather have. Well, it works for you, whatever he does. I wish Mujared could do the same for me." "He can." I declared, excitedly. "He's a genie!" "Whoah, now, sweetie. The first was a nice joke, but you should have quit while you were ahead. Genie, pah!" Marie leaned over to fill up her glass of wine. "I guess we should go join the boys sometime." She walked out. After our guests left I cleared up. Steve came into the kitchen. He wasn't impressed that I had almost told Marie about us, and what he had been doing. "Are you so dumb that you have no imagination!" He shouted. I dropped a plate and began to cry. It wasn't my fault. Well, I hadn't asked for it anyway. He came over to hug me. "It's alright." He said, consoling me. I felt his chest squeezing against mine. Soon my fear of Steve's anger was overpowered by erotic sensation as I began to rub myself against him. I felt his hand travel down my back, and my dress slip to the floor. His hands quickly covered my body, travelling from my ass to my tits and back again, and pulling my hips towards his. I could feel the hard swelling contained in his trousers, and felt it spring out as he dropped them. He slid my knickers down, and then lifted me up onto the counter. My legs parted to admit him, and he slowly manoeuvred his cock between my damp pussy lips. Once he was in place he moved slowly forward, and I felt my lips part and the opening to my vagina squeezed outward. He hit a dry spot, and I felt like my skin was being pinched for a brief, fiery moment, before he relaxed for a second and then resumed his forward motion. This time I wiggled around his dick, and it slid past the obstruction and on into my body. I don't know when he stopped moving in. The motion teased highly sensitive pleasure sensors that began to build up a head of pleasure throughout my body. I had to hold the counter with my hands to counter his motion, but our actions set my tits in motion, and they likewise sent communicative waves down to my cunt. The pleasure folded around Steve's penis, and drove me back and forth on it in growing ecstasy. My rhythm began to become automatic as I lost myself in the motions, noises and feelings. Then something changed. Steve increased his tempo, thrust deep inside me, and just as abruptly stopped. I tried to maintain the motions but he held me still in his arms. The senses and urgings that I felt would not lie still though, and I began to buck to free myself from his embrace, thrashing wildly to feel that sensational motion. Then, I was empty, his cock was gone. The sudden lack was boldly outlined by the circling sensuality of my vaginal lips, which were hot, wet, and gasping for delight, prompted still by the fluctuating feelings emanating from my breasts. I put my hand to the spot, and my body cried out, "Yes! Closer!" I had to touch myself, to replace the keenly felt loss. Circling the rim, I found the button to switch on rapture. I aroused myself moments later. I was alone in the kitchen. I thought back to what had happened, and thought at the same time that I would feel repulsed by what I had done. However, the memories of the pleasure that I had received came back, and associated themselves firmly with the situation. No, I had to admit, I had loved it, and I would probably do it again, though I could imagine it not being with Steve. That thought prompted a further line of self-enquiry. Was I now free of the addiction to his sperm? I don't know. How could I tell? Could I leave him and live somewhere else for a while as a test, perhaps? But I wanted to be clever again first. So I had to get him to transform me again, which meant more of his sperm. And more fucking, of course. Well, a girl's gotta do? I had to get him to do to me what I wanted him to do. How was I going to do that? He could still order me around as I was still submissive to his every command. I had to get him to want to do things for me. Perhaps that meant that I had to do things without him needing to ask. Then he would soften a little. I needed to pay him attention, to be the best thing that he could ever want. I also had to make him want to change the things that I wanted. So I would have to persuade him that it was better for me to be cleverer. Yeah, that was it! Perhaps I could play dumb, and he would think that I was really dumb, and make me cleverer. Double bluff, wasn't it? "Frankie?" "Yes, darling?" "Now what's with this 'darling' shit? I just want you to come here for a second." "Okay, darling." I nearly ran over. "I want you to invite Marie over for a drink tomorrow lunchtime. I'll be here, but I'll be in my room. I'll tell you more tomorrow." "Steve?" I asked gently, sliding up closer to him. "Yes, Frankie?" "How would you like to repeat what we did earlier?" "I'm a bit?" My hand slid over his crotch and began to undo his fly. "?tired, but, oh, what the hell!" I didn't get the chance to ask him for anything. But when I finally got up off the sofa I noticed that the heels that I'd been wearing fit perfectly comfortably, and they were about three inches high. Marie came over at about two. Steve's orders were simple. I was to make her a drink in a glass that I would collect from his room. I was not to wash it first. No problem, I suppose. When Marie arrived the first thing she noticed was my hair. "Wow, Francesca, you've decided to become a blonde!" "Well, it wasn't really my decision." "Are you saying that Steve made you do it? Hadn't you better start getting a life of your own, girl?" I handed Marie an irish cream in the glass. The gunk that had been in there really didn't show. I felt sorry for Marie drinking out of a dirty glass, but I couldn't tell her. We chatted about various things, but I really didn't know what to say. I mean, I had had a life, but now I was a woman, and it was like my life had started over, and so far nothing had happened. "You have to get away from that boyfriend of yours," Marie was saying. "He's a bad influence on you." At that moment Steve came out of his room. He looked straight at Marie's empty glass. "Am I really such a bad person, Marie?" He asked her directly. "I wouldn't say a bad person, but you could ease up on Francesca." She stopped suddenly and put her hands to her head. "Wow, I feel so dizzy suddenly!" Steve waited for her to recover. He smiled at her. "I'm not hard on Francesca at all, am I, Marie?" "No," she replied, thoughtfully, "no, you're not." "In fact, I'm a very good person. I should really treat Francesca more harshly, shouldn't I?" Marie paused. "Shouldn't I?" Shouted Steve. "Yes!" Screamed Marie. "Yes, you should! Oh, what have you done to me?" "I haven't done anything to you, Marie. You merely feel submissive in my presence. All women should feel that way, shouldn't they?" "Yes, they should." "Now, as a display of your submission to me, I want you and Frankie to kiss each other." Marie looked at me, stood up and walked toward me. There was something odd in her eyes. Didn't she like me? Huh, wasn't I pretty enough for her? I mean, she was a looker. I think I always wanted to get into her knickers. "Kiss!" Stated Steve. I stood up from my chair and Marie stood before me. I could see she was scared. Why? I put my arms around her and tilted my lips up toward hers. She closed her eyes and pursed them. I planted a peck on them. "Passionately!" I forced myself toward them and took a tighter hold of Marie. I could feel her resistance to my embrace but she pushed her lips toward mine. I opened them up with my tongue and began to explore the inside of her mouth. At that point she released a moan. "That's better. Now with lust!" I locked myself around Marie and began to rub my leg up and down hers. She began to run her arms up and down my back and approached my ass. I grabbed one of her hands and held it there, and pushed my cheek out to meet it. Our tongues began a struggle for space, each wanting to taste the other. I began to feel her tits pressing against mine, and the thought rather than the feeling provoked a flush of fervour. I felt my crotch heat up and began to rub it against hers. I don't know whether she was responding or not, but I could still feel her tongue, her hand, her body, and I wanted more of it all. I pulled her down onto me on top of the chair and pushed her head down toward my chest. I think she fought, but I pulled her into my tits and I could feel her mouth moving over them her hair stroking my face. "Stop!" Oh, shit, no, Steve! Marie got up from on top of me. You can't do this to me. I released a groan. I could feel my tits tightening like they were shrivelling up. My crotch was wet and itching. I slid a hand straight into my skirt and reached for my love button. "Leave her to satisfy herself, Marie. You come over here and satisfy me." Watching Marie blow Steve kicked me right over the edge. I came in convulsions and couldn't stop for as long as I could see her head and hand bobbing back and forth on his cock. When he finally came she licked every little bit off her hands and face just as she was told. Steve sent her to wash herself off, then he sent her home. "What did you do to her, Honey?" I asked Steve when she was gone. "The same as I did to you at the start, Frank. She's submissive to me and addicted to my sperm. She'll do anything I want. And what I want is for her to bring Mujared here." "Why do you want that, Honey?" "Because I want Mujared in my power. After all, he is a genie." "So?" "So he'll grant my wishes then! You are stupid, aren't you? And what's with all this 'Honey' crap, anyway?!" He stormed off into his room. He didn't want me for sex so often now. He was sometimes occupied with Marie. I could kill her, you know, taking my man like that! But you know, he wasn't really my man, I still just had to get him to change me the way I wanted. But I never got the chance. I liked the changes he made, though. Now, when I passed him in the room I could see his eyes follow me round and I knew he wanted me. I would put on my highest heels and then I would be able to look at his chin, and then look up into his face with my big blue eyes. I would sway my butt for him to follow, and stick out my chest, though I didn't really need to, as now it stuck out enough by itself. I always wore a tight skirt, to show off my butt. I took little mincing steps in it, which he thought were really cute. I took really mincing steps out of it, come to think of it. I looked in the mirror one morning, and I looked shocked, like a bunny caught in the headlights. I shook myself awake and brushed the hair out of my eyes. I smiled my perfect smile at myself. That was better. But sometimes, when I was thinking hard about something, I would rouse and catch my reflection in the glass, looking like that bunny again. Eyes wide and mouth open, with my wide cupid's bow