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Were-Wench By Ellie Dauber Copyright, 1999 This story is rated X and should be avoided by the sort of clear-eyed, clean thinking people who might get upset about such things as well as anybody under the age of 18, who, as such, is obviously too innocent to be reading such trash. How to start? It started that day I had my big fight with Marya. No, I think it started long before that. I guess I should start by telling you a little about Marya. She's a gypsy, a gypsy princess to hear her tell it. No, they call themselves Romany, not gypsies. Anyway, Marya's the sort of girl that'd make most anybody stop roaming. Long black hair, down to her waist when she lets it loose; a figure with plenty of girl where you want plenty of girl and very little where you don't. She had dancer's legs that went almost up to her neck, it seemed, and she knew how to move on them, gliding along gracefully like some sort of sexual animal letting her body just "ripple" as she walked. Her voice oozed sex, too, halfway between a purr and a growl with just a trace of Hungarian accent as sweetener. But what got me was her eyes, dark pools that a man could gladly get lost in. We met at some sort of fund raiser, paired up next to each other at a table mostly with men too old or too married to be competition. I took her home and took her to bed as quickly as I could manage. If I told you how great she was, you wouldn't believe me. (And there's enough else not to believe in this story.) We dated as often as we could manage after that. I was trying very hard to justify the promotion to assistant department head that I'd just gotten. She said that she was some sort of clan leader and had to be available for emergencies or clan business. When we were together, it was great. She was full of surprises and fun, in or out of bed; a great conversationalist who shared -- or claimed to share -- my interests in music, art, and, oh, just ways to have fun. Unfortunately, she also had a temper from something out of grand opera. I'd had to cancel a date at the last minute and fly out to Seattle to meet with one of our major customers. It took three days of nonstop arguing to get them to admit that we weren't at fault for a machine that had broken down, and another half day to say that they wanted to continue the $55,000,000 per year contract they had with us. Signed statements in hand, I took the "red eye" 3 AM flight back home. I got into the office that morning with only about an hour of real sleep. (Time curled up half drowsing in an airplane seat doesn't _really_ count.) My in-basket was about ready to collapse from the overload, and my boss --and his boss -- wanted to be thoroughly briefed on what had happened. I was just beginning to catch up, when Marya stormed into my office. She slammed the door behind her and began to yell at me in three languages. But whichever language she used: Hungarian, English, or Romany, she didn't sound half as sexy as she normally did. She chewed me out royally for: (1) not giving her enough advance notice when I canceled our date of four nights before; (2) not telling her how long I'd be gone; (3) not calling or sending any sort of expensive, suitably appropriate apology gift while I was away; and (4) not calling immediately to say that I was back. The facts that: (1) I hadn't planned on having one of our machines break down out in Seattle two hour before our date; (2) there was no way for me to have known how long I'd be; (3) I was too busy to even shop for the pajamas I'd forgotten to pack and had almost caught a cold without; and (4) I had planned to call her tomorrow, intending nothing more strenuous that night than catching up on my sleep didn't seem to matter. Finally, I lost my temper. "Boy! Listening to you rant over nothing makes me glad I'm not a crazy woman like you." She stopped, stared at me a minute, then smiled mysteriously and said, "Enjoy it while you can, Mike." Then, without another word, she turned and left. I went back to work. The paperwork was going faster than I'd expected it to, so I decided to stay late and try to catch up. It was after six when I decided that I'd made enough of a dent. The office was long deserted. As I got ready to leave, I noticed that the moon was rising over the top of the buildings to the east. I felt suddenly dizzy. Hot. I thought I heard Marya's voice from far away, chanting in that crazy language she spoke sometimes when she was angry. "Just the radio", I figured, but from where? I knew that I was alone in the office. I felt my skin begin to tingle all over. I thought that the cold I'd missed getting in Seattle had managed to catch up with me after all. Then I felt a -- I don't know -- a "tightness" all over my body. My hands seemed to be shrinking somehow. I figured a drink of water might help, but when I got up to go to the water cooler, I nearly doubled over from a sudden weird feeling in my gut. Not a pain really, but more as if things - organs -- were moving around under my skin. My chest felt funny, swelling, pushing against my shirt. My vision blurred. When, I grabbed for a chair, I noticed that my jacket sleeve had become too long somehow, reaching almost down to my fingers. Then I blacked out. I woke up on the floor. The dizziness was gone, but I had trouble getting up. My body felt "wrong", as if my center of balance had changed. I felt different, weaker. And my clothes had become several sizes too large. When I pushed back one sleeve, I noticed that my hand was much smaller with long slender fingers and pointed nails, at least a half inch long. In the confusion, I realized that Marya must have done something. Worked some kind of gypsy magic on me. I suddenly remembered all those old horror movies where a gypsy curse turned some poor guy into a werewolf. I jumped to my feet and ran to my office closet. I had a mirror on the inside of the door. I pulled it open expecting to see long hair, bushy eyebrows, and fangs. I saw long hair, all right. Down past my shoulders. But the eyebrows looked plucked, and, whatever fangs there might be, were hidden by a pair of full, sensuous lips. It was my face. But softer. My nose was smaller, almost cute, and my cheekbones seemed higher. A woman's face and, I had to admit, fairly pretty, even without any make-up. In a panic, I pulled at my shirt. Buttons ripped. My new breasts were pretty nice; soft yet firm, and round as melons. At least a B-cup, I guessed. The nipples were large and erect from my excitement. They'd have been great to look at on some other girl. But this was my own chest. I reached down into my pants expecting the worse. And found it. Or, rather, I _didn't_ find it. No nice, familiar prick, just a vertical slit. My fingers explored inside. It found something -- the clit -- and not knowing what else to do, I began to rub. Oh, Lord, it felt good! Then I realized what I was doing and pulled my hand away as if I'd touched a hot stove. I knew that I had to get out of the office. "Get to Marya's," I thought. "Do whatever you must to get her to change you back." Only, how to get to Marya's. I looked in the mirror again. I was easily a good six inches shorter than before. A women "swimming" in clothes that obviously weren't hers and with no ID that matched my new body. Wait a minute! I did have cash for a cab. It had been raining all day, luckily. That meant that I had my raincoat to cover the now oversized clothes. Still, I felt that I should wear something else under the coat. My pants were now way too long, and they were barely staying up anyway around my new, narrow waist. The last notch of my belt was inches too loose to be of any help, but the belt was too stiff to tie in a knot. I could hardly walk around holding up my pants in a big ball at my waist. And they'd look awful funny rolled up at my ankles. Fortunately, I'd worked late enough times to have seen the cleaning crew for my building. They wouldn't be there yet, thank heavens, but they had a small storage room just down the hall from my office. I snuck down to it and checked to make sure nobody was around. (As an assistant department head, I had keys to most of the rooms on the floor.) Inside on a table were a couple of bundles from some laundry. I opened them and found a bunch of work clothes, pants and shirts for the men and smocks for the women. The pants were all for men my former size or bigger. I took one of the smocks back to the office to try on. It was still too big, but it fit a lot better than my pants. And it hid where I'd ripped the buttons off my shirt. I kept on my man's underwear, pinning my shorts to my undershirt to keep them up. There'd been no women's underwear in the storeroom. Even if there had been, at that point, I don't think that I could have worn them. I bundled up my jacket and slacks into my briefcase and went outside. It was really strange standing out in front of the building as a woman. I felt the breeze swirl around my bare legs. I was exposed, vulnerable in a way that I'd never dreamt of being, and I wanted very much to be myself again. Fortunately, I didn't have to wait too long. A cab pulled up to drop off some people in front of my office building. I got in and gave the cabby Marya's address. Marya's place had once been a factory, and her apartment was about half of the top floor. "Nice quiet place for a gypsy witch," I thought to myself as I rode up in the elevator. "Stay calm," I reminded myself, "or you might be wearing dresses a long, long time." I knocked on the door. "Just a minute, Miss Ryan," came the voice from inside. She knew! The door seemed to open by itself, and I walked in. The place was dark, curtains drawn and only a few candles for light. I could smell some sort of strange incense. Marya walked into view. She was wearing only a garter belt, black fishnet stockings, and what had to be at least six inch heels. Her long dark hair was unbraided and hung down almost to her waist. Damn, she looked sexier than I'd ever seen her. If I'd been a man, I'd have fucked her right there. But now, I felt nothing. She reached out and pushed my raincoat off my shoulders. Then she touched my breasts with both hands, kneading them through my clothes. "Not bad. Not bad at all." "Change me back!" "Ummm, eventually. Did you ever hear that old poem: 'Even a man, who says his prayers And stays at home each night, Can become a beast when the wolfbane blooms, And the moon shines full and bright.'?" "What's that got to do with me?" "That's what you are now, girlie. A werewolf. A were-wench, actually. You'll be your normal, stupid, male self most of the time. But the three nights of the full moon, you get these "improvements" from 6 PM till a half hour after the sun comes up." Her rubbing was beginning to make my breasts feel tender. She pinched my nipples, grown erect under my T-shirt. "This is only the first night for this month. Now, strip down, Honey. I want a good look at my work." I couldn't think of any way out. My raincoat was just about off. I unbuttoned the smock and let it fall to the floor, leaving me looking ridiculous in just my male T-shirt and shorts. Marya put her arms around me and pulled me to her. I noticed that she was a bit taller than I was now and seemed much stronger. Before I could do anything else, she kissed me. When I opened my mouth in surprise, she pushed her tongue in and began to move it around. It felt good. Her hand reached down into my shorts and began stroking the hair around my vagina. That felt even more good, and I spread my legs to give her better access. She found my clit and rubbed there. _That_ felt incredible. While she rubbed with one finger, another began moving in and out of my pussy. I heard myself moan, and I felt weak in the knees from the heat that seemed to be spreading through my body from my groin. I pressed myself at her hand and began to rotate my hips in synch with her rubbing. Marya laughed. She picked me up in her arms and carried me to her bed. As Marya placed me down on the bed, one of her breasts hung near my mouth. Without thinking, I leaned over and began to suck on it. She pulled away. "No, Hon. Later maybe. Right now, I want you to get used to what it feels like as a girl." She bent down and began sucking my own left breast. Her right hand tweaked the nipple of my other breast, while her left hand continued that glorious rubbing down below. The pleasure got to me -- I couldn't talk, couldn't think of anything else. My pelvis rose and fell with each stroke. My head rocked back and forth. I could hear my voice, but mostly I was making noises, sighing and moaning, not saying words. All at once there was this incredible flood of sensation. My body arched, lifted off the bed to meet it. I screamed in pure animal joy. And fainted dead away. Again. I must have been out for a while. When I woke up, Marya was dressed normally and sitting on a chair by the bed. "Welcome back. A little overload from the spell got mixed up with the psychic blast of your first female orgasm. Don't worry, it shouldn't happen again." She handed me the smock. "Now get dressed, Hon. We're going shopping." I stood up and put on the smock. "Shopping? What for? Why don't you just change me back?" "I can't now, even if I wanted to. The spell works for all three nights of the full moon. I can't remove it until after the full moon ends, three days from now." "Three nights," I groaned. "Yes, and in the meantime, you'll need more clothes than just that rag you had on. Hobart's Department Store is just a couple miles from here. As I recall you have a charge account there, and they're open nights, now." I got off the bed and put the smock back on. She got a sheet of stationary and a pen from her desk and handed them to me. "Write," she said and began dictating. Thank goodness, my handwriting hadn't changed. "To Whom It May Concern: I, Michael Ryan of 435 Clinton Street in this city, do hereby authorize my cousin,....hmm, what to call you? You'll have to answer to it, so let's make it something close....my cousin, Michelle, to use my charge account at Hobart's Department Store." She looked at the paper for a minute, then, on a whim, added "up to my credit limit". I accepted the inevitable and signed at the bottom. In fifteen minutes (by cab), we were at the credit office at Hobart's. "The airline lost all my luggage, and my clothes got drenched in this rain," I explained. "Cousin Mike was kind enough to let me buy some stuff to tide me over, and Marya was kind enough to offer to come along." I didn't like lying, but -- as Marya had so kindly pointed out -- the alternatives were to spend the next three evenings in the ridiculous outfit I was wearing or to try to convince somebody -- anybody -- that I was a male under a gypsy curse. Lying seemed much easier. I'd dated Susan, a credit manager at Hobart's, a couple of months before. She recognized my masculine handwriting even as she commented on how much my "cousin" and I looked alike. Then she wrote "approved" on my note and gave me directions to the Women's Wear department. As we were leaving, she told me to "Say hello to Mike" for her and to ask him to give her a call one of these days. It was strange, somehow, talking to Susan. I mean, here was this sexy woman whom I'd slept with several times, a honey blonde with pillowy tits and a tongue that could all but tie knots in a cherry stem. We hadn't fought or anything, just hadn't gotten around to going out again since the last time. Especially not since I'd met Marya. In my head, I knew that she was as attractive as ever, but now, all that seemed to interest me was the way she'd done her hair and how nice her blouse and shirt looked. I didn't think about it then, but I had become a woman inside, too. We left the office and headed to the elevator. Riding up, I felt dizzy again for a minute. Marya was singing something, but just a little too faintly for me to make out the words. I noticed that the dizziness stopped about the time Marya stopped singing, but I was too relieved to make any connection. The elevator doors opened onto "No Man's Land", the women's wear floor. Dresses and skirts to the left of me, stocking and lingerie to the right. Marya walked out ahead of me, grabbed a few things off some racks and pulled me down an aisle after her. The next thing I knew, I was in one of the dressing rooms with her. "Strip," she said in a no-nonsense tone. I hung up the borrowed smock on a hook and stepped out of my shoes. My socks and male underwear got tossed on a low bench along one wall. Marya handed me a peach colored garter belt with lace trimmed garters. "You always said how sexy you thought garter belts were," Marya said. "Now you can see how much trouble they are". I put it on the way I'd seen her put on garter belts. Then she handed me a bra and panties set trimmed in pearl white lace that matched the garter belt. I stepped into the panties and pulled them up and over the garter belt. They felt soft and cool against my skin, so different from my old cotton shorts. The bra was a little tricky. I leaned my new breasts into it and put my arms through the straps okay, but Marya had to help me with the hooks in the back. My first guess had been wrong. I was a 34-C. The bra gave my new breasts support, but the silk moved against my nipples, tickling them, when I breathed. Marya handed me a pair of sheer black nylons. "Bunch one up and put it carefully around your toes," she said. "If I'd had the time I would have painted your nails, but we can do that later. Now, very, very carefully pull it up your leg. That's right. Be careful not to snag them." With a lot of care, I managed to get both stockings up. Marya showed me how to attached them to the garters, and I felt them grow taut, seeming to caress my legs. I stepped into a matching half-slip and pulled it up to my waist. The sensation as it flowed against my stockinged legs was amazing. "Do women get turned on like this every time they get dressed?" I thought. I could tell from Marya's expression that she knew what I had thought. I didn't want to take chances on high heels, so I asked Marya to bring me a pair of flats. Instead, she bought a lovely pair of low pumps. I was nervous about them, but I seemed to have very little trouble walking in them. I did have to take a smaller step, though, and swivel my hips a little. Even without looking in the dressing room mirror, I knew that I now had a much more feminine walk. Over all this finery was a pale blue dress that Marya had brought into the dressing room with the shoes. She said showed off my new figure and seemed to bring out the color of my eyes. I wriggled into it, noticing how well it seemed to mold to my altered body. I knew that I should feel uncomfortable, a grown man wearing women's clothing, but these clothes weren't strange or wrong on me. They were what I felt I should be wearing. I hardly noticed that I didn't seem to have very much trouble putting on things, like a bra, that I'd never worn before. I looked right, looked pretty in them. I turned left and right admiring my reflection in the mirror, the way my dress clung to the new curves of my bust and my hips. I actually felt a sense of physical pleasure from the way I looked. Marya opened her purse and got out a small cosmetic case. A little lipstick and mascara, and I was ready to face the world. The fact that I was wearing woman's make-up hardly crossed my mind. Now that I was dressed, Marya dragged me through the aisles, picking item after item for me. She almost always seemed to choose the sexiest, most feminine things: lacy camisoles and teddies, skirts cut high and blouses cut low, or blouses sheer enough to see my bra through. When I got her off away from the salesgirl for a minute, I asked her about this. "Isn't it bad enough that you've made me a girl? Do you really have to rub it in with all these clothes.?" She just smiled and led me over to a display of French-cut panties. "Why, Michelle, I just want you to be dressed your very prettiest for all the fun that we'll be having together the next three days." I had only planned to buy one or two sets of clothes; just enough to wear over the next three nights or until I could convince Marya to cancel the spell. But everything was suddenly so very pretty that I couldn't help myself, and Marya seemed to enjoy egging me on. We even stopped at the cosmetics counter. Marya selected several shades of lipstick and eyeshadow, some blusher, and mascara. We even bought three bottles of nail polish that matched the lipsticks. I was looking at the growing pile of little bottles, when I heard Marya call my name. I turned just in time to get hit with a fine mist of perfume. I made a face at the taste of a little that had gotten on my tongue, but Marya just smiled and said, "A girl isn't really properly dressed, if she isn't wearing perfume." Then she added in a whisper, "and I do want you dressed as a proper girl." The clerk was ringing up my order -- well over $500, when one of the salesgirls ran over. I'd left Mike's clothes -- that smock and my male underwear -- in the dressing room. They just hadn't seemed like mine anymore. I thanked her and stuffed them into one of the shopping bags. I picked out a purse that I liked, and put in the make-up that I'd just bought, my wallet, and my keys. "Send everything else to Mr. Ryan's," I said and gave her the address. I did take a shopping bag, though, it had a nightgown (the least sexy one Marya had talked me into buying) and Mike's clothes, including the smock. I planned to sneak the smock back into the workroom in a day or two. We managed to hail a cab without much trouble. The cabby even jumped out to open the door for us. As we climbed in, I noticed that Marya had also brought a bag from my shopping spree with us. Marya gave the cabby her address, and we sped away. We almost didn't get to Marya's, though. The cabby pulled over on a side street and stopped the car. "Hey, Babes," he said, turning around to face us and with a big sexy (sexy?) grin on his face. "How's about you forget where you're headed and come over to my place. I just got some brand new CDs, and I've got a fifth of good bourbon to go with them." He reached back and stroked my hair. "We three could have us a real good time." I didn't know what to do. Most of me was repulsed by the idea of spending time alone with this guy, but something, some tiny part, was -- well -- interested. He was young and fairly handsome. For a second, my mind flashed the image of him when he'd opened the door to let us into the cab. He was wearing very tight pants that had hinted at a really large penis. And when he'd turned away, I found myself noticing a gorgeous pair of buns. "No!" My mind, what was left of my male self, shouted down the idea. Maria bristled. "We could also go to the Cab Bureau, so I can file charges of sexual harassment." That scared him. "Hey, I was just kidding, Lady. I really didn't mean anything, and, if you took it wrong, well, there's no charge for the ride from here on." He turned around, flipped down the meter, and started the cab again. I sat in the back shaking. It wasn't from his crude invitation, but because I knew that I'd almost accepted it. We got to Marya's apartment building without any other delays. The meter showed only $4.85, but I tossed him a ten from my purse. "Keep it," I said. The poor guy couldn't know how wrong his guess about this fare had been. When we got inside, Marya began to laugh. "If you could have seen the look on your face when that cabby propositioned us. I was almost tempted to accept, just to see how you'd react." "I didn't think it was at all funny." "Well, relax, Michelle, cause I didn't accept his little offer." She paused for a moment and smiled. "Even if it didn't look so little in those pants of his." I blushed and turned away from her knowing gaze. The elevator stopped. Marya let us in to her apartment. "I've got my own plans for you tonight, Missy." We put down the bags from the store. Then she turned and suddenly kissed me. Hard! I felt my nipples stiffen and push against my bra. I opened my mouth in surprise. Her tongue slid in and wrestled with mine for a moment. Then she broke free and stepped back. "Well, that was just lovely, but before we go any further, strip. I want to see you in all your new finery." I started unloading the shopping bags, while Marya went into her bedroom to get something. Besides my, or rather, Mike's clothes and that one nightgown, we'd brought home a couple of panty and bra sets, an electric blue teddy with matching garter belt, two packages of stockings, some shoes and a dress that I didn't remember picking out, and a pink "baby doll" nightie. Almost everything was skimpy, sheer, and extremely feminine. I took everything out of the two shopping bags and put them on the table in her living room. Marya came back in with a portable video camera. She put it on the same table and went over to her stereo system. She must have owned a couple hundred CDs. She looked through her rack for a minute or two, then pulled one out and put it in the stereo. It was instrumental jazz, low and sexy with a solid beat. I recognized the trumpet almost at once. "Big Joe" Briggs, a local musician who was getting something of a national reputation. I was something of a fan of his, and I'd taken Marya to hear him play at a couple of clubs. I started to walk over towards the bar Marya had set up in one corner of the room. I knew from experience how well stocked it was, and I figured that a good whiskey and some good music would make up for a lot of what I'd gone through this evening. "Hold it, Missy," Marya said. "Just where do you think you're going?" "Over to get a drink. Do you want one?" "I do, but you don't. Fix me a vodka and tonic and go stand in front of the couch." I was so startled that I didn't argue. I just fixed her the drink and walked over near the couch. Marya waited until "Big Joe" finished his first song. As the second one, a slow number called "Saturday Blues" began. She started the camera. "Okay," she said. "Take off your dress." I looked at her for a minute, not quite understanding. "Your dress," she said, sounding a little impatient. "Take it off." I wasn't sure what she had in mind. She didn't expect me to do a strip. Or maybe she did. Well, I wasn't going to play _that_ game. I stood perfectly straight and reached behind to unbutton the dress. I was very careful not to move in any way that might match the music. "No, dammit," she said angrily. "Strip, girl. To the music, slow and sexy." I was right! She was trying to embarrass me, and it wasn't going to work. I stopped working on the buttons and put my hands at my sides. Marya put down the camera. "Oh, all right go have a drink. Maybe it'll make you more willing to cooperate." I walked over to the bar and fixed myself that whiskey I'd been thinking of earlier. "That's a nice song," Marya said. "Sounds a little like an old Romany tune my Papa used to sing. She began to sing something. The words didn't seem to quite fit the music, but at least she wasn't shouting orders at me. It sipped at the whiskey, savoring the nice warm glow it gave me. The song ended, and a new fast tune came on. This one was full of fancy trills that really let "Big Joe" show off his skills. Marya still seemed to be singing that old tune of her father's. Somehow, I could still hear a little of it over the trumpet. I finished my drink and walked back over to sit on the couch. Just as I got near the couch, "Big Joe" started another slow song. Marya picked up the camera and set it on a tripod. "Feeling more cooperative now?" she said. For some reason, I was. Maybe if I cooperated, she'd change me back. I reached my arms up above my head and began swaying my hips to the music. Marya turned the camera on and began watching me through the small monitor on its side. I touched palm to palm and began to move my arms as well. Then I left the right arm straight up and still. I slowly moved my left hand down caressing the right arm as it went. When my hand got to my shoulder, I slowly moved it behind me and started to fiddle with the buttons. My right hand moved back there a moment later. I undid the top button, making an exaggerated movement with my arms to the beat of the music as if to show that I'd begun undoing the dress. I repeated the movements with the remaining three buttons. Then I brought my hands up to the collar and moved it, so the dress was just barely resting on my shoulders. As I did that, I stopped for a second and wondered _why_ I was being so cooperative. Did I really want to do this sexy strip tease for Marya. I couldn't think of a good reason why I should, but I couldn't think of a good reason why I shouldn't. I thought that it might be the whiskey, but liquor never hit me that way before. Of course, as Michelle, I was a lot smaller than I had been. Maybe that was it. Anyway, I had a dance to finish. I shook my shoulders suddenly, letting the dress slip off them. My hands shot up, and I caught it jut as it fell to the top of my breasts. I held it there for a moment, leaning forward just a bit, as if trying to modestly hide my breasts, yet still swaying to the music. Then I stuck my hands into the air and let the dress fall to my waist. It couldn't go any further because of my wide hips. I stood straight, pushing my breasts out for Marya to see and admire. Now I reached down to where the dress was gathered around my hips. Still swaying to the music, I bent forward just a little and slowly pushed it down past my hips. "Look at the camera," Marya yelled. I didn't stop fiddling with my dress, but I looked up, straight at the camera, and smiled my most suggestive smile. When the dress was below my hips, I let it go. It fell down around my ankles. I stepped out of it. As I did so, I lifted it on one foot and gave a sudden sharp kick that sent it flying across the room. I stood in the classic feminine stance, one knee bent slightly, hand on my hip. All I was wearing now were my panties and bra, garter belt and hose, and those heels. I leaned forward again and blew a kiss to the camera. Then I stood straight again for a moment. The music was still playing, a brassy tune with a very strong beat. I began moving my hips to that beat. I clasped my arms in front of me, not an easy thing to do with my new breasts and began to move my whole body to the beat. "Yeah," Marya shouted. "Shake it, Baby!" I should have stopped, feeling totally humiliated, but I found myself enjoying the role I seemed to have fallen into. Shaking my hips and ass to the beat, I began to strut back and forth in front of Marya and the camera. After about thirty seconds of that, I stopped in the center of the room. I reached behind my back and undid the clasps on my bra. They fell free. The bra was now held on, such as it was, by the straps on my shoulders. I put my left hand up between my breasts and held the bra in place. I turned my head slightly to the right, smiling a shy but still somehow sexy smile. Then I reached my right hand over and, with a quick flip of my finger, knocked the strap off my left shoulder. I put my right hand next to my left to hold the bra in place. Then I quickly moved my left hand and knocked off the right bra strap. All that way keeping my bra in place was my right hand. My left was now down on my hip. I faced forward and raised the bra off my breasts and over my head. I spun it around a couple of times then threw it over towards the couch. It landed on the couch near my dress. I kept my right arm raised straight up towards the ceiling and stood there moving my hips to the music. My breasts, of course, were now visible for anybody to see. I could feel the air on my nipples, which were tingling. I reached for them and held my breasts in my hands, palms underneath to make them look even bigger and sexier. I looked down at them. The nipples were erect, sticking out like two pencil erasers. I touched one with the finger. Oh, lord, it felt good! I began to message my breasts, rubbing the nipples as I did so. The sensations were incredible. I closed my eyes and rolled my head back and forth to the rhythm of the music and of my own caresses. I felt a warmth spreading out from my breasts through my entire body, but especially to my pussy which began to feel moist and - to tell the truth - a little empty. "Ahem," Marya said in a loud voice. "I'm sure that it feels very nice, but the music is still going. Move it, Michelle." "Pooh!" I said, sticking my tongue out at her. Yet, somehow, I knew that she was right. For some reason that I didn't understand, didn't even _want_ to understand, it was important to me to finish the strip that I was doing. I hated having been turned into a woman, but at the same time, I wanted to show Marya what a sexy woman I had become. I held my arms out from my sides, fingers together, elbows bent slightly and began walking back and forth again. I moved my hips to the music, cocking each one in turn as I walked. Sometimes, I cocked my shoulders, too, making my breasts sway as I walked. Always, as I walked, I kept my face toward the camera and a big smile on my lips. After walking the width of the room three, no, four times, I stopped and stood in the center again. I took the woman's pose again. Then I smiled and took the top hem of the panties between the thumb and forefinger of each hand. I very, very slowly began rolling the panty down over my hips. As I did this, I kept my hips still, but I moved my shoulders to the beat of the music. I was leaning over as I did all this and my breasts swung freely to the same beat. My face, of course, was still facing forwards towards the camera. Eventually, my panties were rolled down. My pussy was fully exposed. I dropped the panties to the floor and stepped out of them. Another quick kick, and they flew over, landing near the couch. In a display of false modesty, I put one hand up to cover my face, while the other shot down to hide my pussy. My fingers touched the pubic hair, and I shivered at the sensation. I could feel how wet I was. Without thinking, I stuck one finger inside. That felt good, and I began to move it in and out. At the same time, another finger found my clitoris and began to rub against it. Oooh! My other hand moved down from my face, and I began to message my breast again. An incredible glow was flowing like electrified honey through my body. I began to thrust my hips forward to meet the inward thrusts of my finger. My eyes closed and my head was rolling back and forth. I could hear a woman moaning from a long way off. It sounded very sexy until I realized that it was me. I was panicking at what I was doing to my new body, but I was unable to stop. My knees began to buckle. I felt Marya guide me over onto the couch. I sat down and continued what I was doing. Suddenly, I felt Marya pull my hand away from my wonderful new pussy. I broke free and tried to put it back. But I couldn't. There was something in the way, something moving in and out to the same rhythm that my hand had been moving. Something big, and humming, and turning my insides to pure jelly as they clenched and unclenched around it. Marya took my hand and, without missing a beat, put it around the vibrator. She took her own hand away. It was up to me now. I took over and kept the thing going to that same wonderful rhythm. I was moaning louder, thrusting my hips, my whole body to the rhythm. I felt something build within me. It built with each stroke. Then it broke loose and my entire body was filled with the pleasure of it. I screamed, I rocked back and forth, and I stopped my hand. The afterglow was almost, _almost_, as good as the orgasm. Then Marya gently took my hand in hers and began the rhythm again. A new jolt of pleasure began to grow in my groin. It built and built until it too ran loose through me. So did a third orgasm a few minutes later. I wanted to continue. I would have been happy to use that little electric wonder on my body until I melted into a puddle on the couch. But I was just too tired to continue. I lay back on the couch and rested, enjoying the warmth of my multiple orgasms. I realized after a minute or two that I was sitting on my new dress. I reached down between my thighs and touched it. It was actually wet from what had flowed out of me. I gently put my finger into my vagina. It was sopping wet - and a little tender. I brought my finger up to my face and smelled my new, feminine juices. They smelled good. I stuck my finger in my mouth on an impulse. I always thought that I had good taste in women. Now I was a woman who tasted good. While I had sat - or maybe laid there recovering. Marya had been fiddling with the camera. She finally pulled out a cassette and put it in her VCR. "Now you get to see just how sexy you are," she said, and she clicked on the TV. She had, I should mention, one of those 32-inch home entertainment systems. I heard the music and saw this sexy girl strutting back and forth. There was no hint of anything male about her. And I looked. No, this was a _woman_. And she was moving in a very seductive way. Putting all of the sexual _tease_ into the strip. As I watched her taking off her dress, I began to feel my nipples tingling again. I was actually turning myself on. My mind was still male enough to appreciate what I was seeing, but my body was reacting in a feminine manner. By the time she - I -- had her - had my - bra off, my hand was up messaging my breast again. It was crazy, watching myself performing like that. I couldn't turn away, and I could stop turning on. After a couple more minutes, my other hand began to reach for my pussy. Marya intercepted it and handed me the vibrator again. She turned it back on. Then she guided my hand, so I was rubbing it along the edges of my pussy. "You like that, don't you, Michelle." "Oh, yes!" I gasped, then I added, "she's so sexy." "Yes, Michael likes looking at the sexy woman, but you're _Michelle_. What you like are the feelings going through your oh, so _female_ body. The fingers caressing your womanly tits; the vibrator moving like some man's big cock in and out of your quivering pussy. Isn't that what you like?" "Yes," I shouted. "Yes, yes, yes!" Then another orgasm raced through me. I stopped shouting and just enjoyed the feelings. I closed my eyes. There was nothing I wanted to look at. I wanted to focus entirely on the feelings pulsing through my body. "Open those eyes, Michelle," Marya shouted. I couldn't help myself and did so. "Now, you can keep going for as long as you want. But you _will_ keep looking at yourself on the TV. I've programmed the VCR for "Loop", so it'll keep rewinding and re-showing your performance for as long as I want. And you, as I said, _will_ keep watching." Marya got up and walked over to a nearby chair. She was close enough to the line of sight to the TV that I could see her. She smiled and watched as I kept playing with my self, bringing on orgasm after orgasm. And all the time watching that damned TV. At one point, she got up and walked away. I wanted to stop, but I couldn't summon up the will to do so. After all, she wanted me to continue, and I wanted to be cooperative, so she'd change me back. Besides, it felt so good. She came back after a few minutes wearing a floor length silk negligee and carrying a glass of brandy. She sat back down and just said, "Continue." I did. Eventually, she must have gotten bored watching me. She reached down and turned the vibrator off. "You can stop now," she said. And I did. I came down, heaving great sighs of relief. I was actually beginning to feel a little tender, but I wanted to continue - until she had said that I could stop. After a minute, she tossed me a towel and I wiped myself clean. I followed her into the bedroom, holding the towel at my groin to catch any additional fluids that might leak out. She took off the negligee and hung it in her closet. By this time, I felt it was safe to dispense with the towel and tossed it into a hamper near the bed. She tossed some pajamas onto the bed, the pink "baby doll" nightie, actually. I stood up at the foot of her bed and quickly put them on, if only to postpone any more "fun and games" Marya might have in mind. The top had a built-in half bra. My breasts were still tender from the "exercise" they'd just been through, and it felt good to have something supporting them. "Bedtime, honey." She said. "Only, I get the bed." Before I could say a word, she pulled out a collar from under the bed and locked it around my neck. A chain was attached, the other end being hooked to the foot of the bed. A small padlock held the collar loosely around my neck. The key was on a small night table that seemed halfway across the room. Well out of my reach, as I found out after several tries. Marya put on her own nightgown, blew out the candles, and got into bed. In a few minutes, I began to hear her snoring. I tried a couple more times to get the key, turning this way and that, reaching out with hand or foot. No use. I lay awake in the dark. What if I never changed back? Was I going to be her toy, her female sex slave, forever? I think that I fell asleep just before dawn. Marya was gone when I woke up. But my prick was back! I was a man again. I was now tall enough to easily reach the table with my foot, pull it to me, and get the key. In a minute I was free. The nightie was much too small for me now. I more tore it off than took it off. My old, familiar male clothes were in the next room. Marya had even folded them to avoid wrinkling. She also left a note on top of them. "Mike: You're back to normal for now, but only for now. Be here at 6 PM. You'll be Michelle at 6:01, and I can make her life permanent." It was quite a threat. I checked my watch: 7:15. I had plenty of time before I had to be at the office. I caught a cab home, showered, shaved, and changed for work. It seemed a little odd looking at myself in the mirror. I kept expecting to see a woman. But there was no sign of Michelle. At work, my memories of the night before seemed to get fuzzier and fuzzier as the day wore on. I decided that it all must have been some kind of dream. A gypsy trick of Marya's? Hypnosis? Or a drug, maybe? Anyway, I'd figured the thing out, so it was over. No, it wasn't. Marya called just after 5. "Just wanted to remind you about tonight," she said. "Forget it, Marya. I'm on to your tricks. You may have gotten me to believe something yesterday, but today I'm on to you." "Trick, Mike? Look at your left hand." I held up my hand. It seemed okay, same as ever. Then it began to tingle all over. As I watched, it shrank The fingers got thin and supple. The nails grew long. It was a girl's hand! "Convinced?" she asked. "Convinced?" I was defeated. She really had changed me into a woman yesterday, and whatever she'd done once, she could do again. I caught a cab right away. At about 5:50, I was knocking on her apartment door. Marya opened the door with a flourish. She'd won, and she knew it. "Strip," she ordered. I'd like to watch the transformation this time. I did as she said, hanging my suit in her closet. A wave of dizziness hit me. I could feel my body twisting inside. There was a swelling sensation at my chest. My scalp tingled. Everywhere else, I felt a pressure pushing me in, compacting me. I could feel my penis erect. Then, it seemed to grow numb. Marya was staring at me, but I didn't have the guts to look down at myself. My legs became wobbly, and I collapsed on the couch. I felt the fabric move under me as I shrank. Then I closed my eyes and tried not to black out again. Marya was standing over me when the dizziness went away, and I cautiously opened my eyes. I glanced down at my body. It had happened again. I stared past two large breasts at a narrow waist and long, shapely legs. A brown triangle of hair guarded the slit at my crotch. I instinctively covered my breasts and crotch with my hands. Inside and out, I was a girl again. "Welcome back, Michelle," Marya laughed and handed me a pile of clothes. "Time to get dressed." I sat up. The clothes were new to me; a simple white cotton bra, half-slip, and matching panties, long pink elastic-topped knee socks, and a shapeless pink dress. They were rather frumpy looking. I vaguely remembered saying just that to Marya during our spree the night before. They'd stood out among all the flashy, sexy stuff she was insisting on buying. "Put them on now, dear, and come over here by me," Marya said. I did. Fortunately, I seemed to remember how to put on a bra from the night before. "Come over here and see how we look," Marya said. She was standing next to a full length mirror. I could see myself as I walked to her. Marya had me sit at a small table near the mirror. She put my hair in a conservative bun and put some make-up on me, nothing fancy, just some lip gloss and a little rouge With the dowdy clothes I'd just put on, I looked like an old maid school teacher or something equally nerdy. Marya, on the other hand, dressed in a stunning dark green evening dress, looked like the soul of sophistication. "Shoes," she said, handing me a pair of woman's sneakers. "Put 'em on. We're going out for some supper." She had my wallet in her hand. While I got the sneakers on, I saw her open it and take out all of my cash. "You're buying." She tossed my wallet on the coffee table and all but pulled me out the door. The next thing I knew we were walking into "Emilio's," one of the fancier restaurants in the new center city shopping district. A $20 bill slipped to the maitre 'd got us a good table right away. Marya ordered the Maine lobster and the good house white wine for herself. She insisted that I was on some sort of special diet, and I had to make do with a chicken salad and iced tea. Marya took her time over the dinner, relishing every bite. The chef had taken very little time with my salad, and it showed. "Delicious," she finally said wiping a little dab of butter off her chin. "We'll have think about coming back tomorrow with our dates." "Dates?" "Sure, Michelle. You remember Andy Parkhurst from your cousin, Mike's, office. He asked me out for tomorrow night, when I was there to see you --um, your cousin, Mike, yesterday afternoon. He said that he had an out-of-town client, a Mr. Rolffson, and asked me to scare up a date for him as well. Though, we'll see tomorrow which of us gets Parkhurst and which gets Rolffson." Things had gotten even worse. Andy Parkhurst was one of the top men in sales in my company, and Joe Rolffson was his best customer. Office policy was that whatever made the client happy was okay. So Andy would be on his expense account, and Rolffson would be sure to be expecting a real fun evening. From what I knew about both men that meant an evening of "3D", "dinner, dancing, and debauchery". And Marya had set me up to be one of the debauchees. Marya must have guessed what I was thinking. "Don't pout so, Michelle. It's so unbecoming in a girl." The waiter came with the bill on a little silver tray. She looked at the bill and put the cash -- my cash -- down on the tray. "Come, Michelle," she said and got up to leave. "Emilio's" was next to the new downtown mall. We left by the mall entrance and began walking towards a loud noise at one end of the mall, "The Blue Note". I thought about heading back to my place until I realized that I had no money or ID. The mall was miles from my office, my apartment, or Marya's. I was trapped! "The Blue Note" is a little jazz club, one of the best ones in the city. The music was pretty good, and it was something of a showplace for local musicians. But the main attraction for a lot of guys was the view. The waitresses dressed in blue lycra teddies that were all but invisible under the lighting they used. They also wore stockings and high heels, so they looked like those naked little "nymphets" on the Playboy jokes page. I'm something of a jazz fan -- and a sex fan, I'll admit -- so Marya and I had been there a couple of times. The place was fairly well packed for a week night. "Big Joe" Briggs was showing off with his new group. Marya and I got a small table over by the corner after a bit of a wait. I tried to just sit back, forget what had happened to me, and enjoy the music. Trouble was, I kept getting reminded. A couple of guys came over to the table about five minutes after we sat down. The taller one introduced himself as "Vince", and his friend was "Jimmy". Jimmy smiled and asked if they could join us. I was totally flustered. A part of me actually felt flattered by their offer. Marya just smiled, "Thanks, boys. Maybe another time, but all we're here for tonight is to enjoy the music." The two men headed off after other targets. "Cute, weren't they, Michelle?" Marya said to me. "And I think that one, Jimmy, really was interested in you, you sexy thing." "Cut it out, Marya!" I said. "It's bad enough I'm here like this. You don't have to rub it in." "Oh, but I want to, Michelle. I want you to be very aware of what's happened to you." Just then, one of the waitresses walked by. She was a tall, slender blonde with a damn good figure that I normally would've given at least a second look to, but I felt no attraction at all for her, now. Marya stopped her. "Waitress, can you take our orders now. I'd like a Bloody Mary and my friend here would like a -- what did you say you wanted, Dear." "I'm sorry," the waitress said. "This isn't one of my tables. We're a little short handed tonight. One of the girls got sick." She pointed to another waitress, a short, busty brunette a few tables away. "That's your waitress, Allie. I'll tell her you're ready to order." "Thanks," Marya said. The woman hurried off, but Allie came over in a moment. Marya ordered her Bloody Mary, and I asked for a double scotch. Allie was back in a few minutes with the drinks. After she put them down, she pointed to a tall man over by the bar. "Fella over at the bar gave me ten bucks to ask if he could join you. Said he'd pay for those drinks of yours, too." "Tell him 'Thanks, but no thanks'", Marya said. Allie nodded and headed away. I was nervous as a cat We'd been hit on twice in less than fifteen minutes. Marya smiled and tasted her drink. She began to hum something. I needed some reinforcement, so I downed mine in one gulp. I closed my eyes, letting the warmth of the scotch and the cool of the band flow over me for awhile. I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I heard was a gruff voice saying, "That'll be eight bucks, Sleeping Beauty". I opened my eyes. Marya was gone! Standing next to the table were Allie and a short, mean-looking man, who I recognized as Bert, the manager. "Your friend skipped out with that louse at the bar," Bert said. "The ten he gave Allie more than covers his tab, but you and your missing friend ain't paid for your drinks." Bert held out one very large hand. "Not yet, anyway." "Sure," I said. I reached down into my purse. In a way, I was relieved. Marya was gone. I could head for home and wait till morning when, she said, I'd be myself again. I'd have to spend the night as a woman, but I'd be home. Who'd know? While I'd been thinking, I'd been feeling around in the purse. There was plenty of make-up and such. But -- I suddenly remembered -- no money! My credit card was there. I could feel it, but it was in Mike's name, not Michelle's. I pulled it out anyway; it was worth a shot. "Can I use this? It's my cous -- my brother's card, but he lets me use it." "We don't take plastic, lady. Especially, when it don't belong to the one who asks." He grabbed my arm and forced me down into the chair. "Wait here while I call the cops." "Wait a minute," Allie said. "Let her work it off. We're short tonight with Rhonda out sick, and she looks like she can fill in." Bert looked me over. "Stand up and let me see the goods." I stood and slowly turned around. It felt like I was under a magnifying glass. In spite of knowing that I was fully dressed, I felt suddenly stark naked. "Get her into Rhonda's outfit, and we'll see what she really looks like." Allie took me back into a small dressing room with five or six lockers. She played with the lock on one, and it sprang open. "Here you go, Honey." She took out a waitress outfit from a locker and handed it to me. "Hurry up and put this on before Bert changes his mind." I didn't need to be reminded. I quickly unbuttoned my dress and hung it in the locker. My slip went in next. "Better take it all off, Honey," Allie said. "That thing's pretty tight, and Bert don't like no underwear to show." That I didn't like, but I really had no choice. In a minute, I was wearing just the outfit, everything else was in that locker. I hadn't realized just how tight the teddy was until I put it on. It was sleeveless and cut very low. The fabric was shear enough that you could all but see the nipple through the fabric. The bottom wasn't much wider than a g-string in front. In back, it was a thong that went up between my ass cheeks so that, from behind, it looked like I wasn't wearing anything below the waist. Allie handed me a pair of stockings. I put them on slowly, so as not to get in more trouble for putting a run in them. Allie had to help me with the garters. "Looks good," Allie said, stepping back, "but that hairdo's the worst." She reached up and pulled out the pins holding my hair in the bun. It fell loose around my shoulders. "Much better," she said, fluffing it out some. She redid my lipstick to make my lips look fuller and fixed my eyes with a little eye shadow and mascara from her own locker. Finally, she helped me into a pair of five inch heels. I'd never worn heels of any sort before this damn spell, but I didn't have much trouble after a couple of hesitant first steps. The thing was, my walk was now just short little steps that made my ass and hips sway in a really feminine and damned sexy way. Allie was ecstatic. "Honey, you're a knockout." I was totally embarrassed, and felt my face redden at the sight of me in the dressing room mirror. Then suddenly I realized that it was the embarrassment of having to work as a waitress walking with that sexy strut in such a revealing outfit, not of being a man in the outfit . Which embarrassed me even more. What was happening to me? Was there any of Mike left? I took a deep breath and stepped out of the dressing room. Allie called Bert over for another look. "Not bad," he smiled. "Not bad at all. Allie, show her the ropes, then give her tables seven through twelve." Allie handed me a pad and pencil. "Those six tables over by the stage," she pointed, "are yours. Watch the tables to see when somebody comes or goes. You wait a couple of minutes after they sit down before you go over. Smile and tell 'em your name, if you want. I usually don't. Guys think you're coming on to them, and dates get jealous. Write down what they want. Drink orders go to Billy at the bar. Food -- such as it is -- you get from Pete in the kitchen over there." She pointed again, this time to a small door near the bar. "After 10 o'clock, there's no kitchen, so you really don't need to worry 'bout it, I guess. Just make sure you get the money when you bring the drinks or food. I guess you know about that. Money goes to Billy at the bar. Tips go into a pot he keeps. We split that up when we close. Any trouble call Bert, but it better be serious. Bert likes happy customers, and he'll put up with a lot. Better move it, cause somebody just got to table eight. I got my own troubles, so good luck." She turned and hurried off to the bar. I took a deep breath and began walking towards the table. Three rather tough looking men in work clothes were sitting there talking. "Hi," I said and smiled gamely. "Can I take your orders?" They stopped talking and looked me over. One of them smacked his lips and said, "Yeah, Sugar, my order is for you to join us." He reached up and grabbed my waist, pulling me towards him. I wriggled free. "How about just your drink orders for now," I said. I thought I could get out of this by pretending it was all just a joke. "Sure, Honey," said one of the others. "For now." He reached over and stroked my exposed ass. "We'll talk about other stuff when you bring the drinks. A pitcher of Bud. And four glasses, so you can join us." I went to the bar and got the pitcher. And three glasses. "Can't drink while I'm working," I said. "That'll be seven bucks." The first one took a ten from his wallet. "Okay, Sugar, but you keep the change to remind you to come back later." I expected him to hand me the bill. But he reached over and shoved it into the top of my outfit. His fingers went in with it, and he managed to tweak my nipple before he pulled them out. I stood there for a second, totally bewildered. Then good sense told me to move off quick. I took the money out and gave it to Billy. Sure enough, it went into the register, but he took three bucks out and put them into a coffee can labeled "Tips". Billy was a skinny guy, about forty five, with thinning brown hair. "Don't let those guys throw you, Babe. They're mostly harmless, and they tip pretty good for just a quick grab or two." I decided that he was right. My best bet was to try to accept what was happening and get through till closing. It turned out not to be too bad. Most of my customers weren't grabbers. I could take care of them and still enjoy some pretty good music. I did get my ass pinched a few times, though, and that first guy wasn't the only one who found a way to play with my tits. It was about a half hour to closing, and the place was pretty empty. I looked over and saw somebody sit down at one of my tables. I got up and walked over. It was Marya! "What happened to you?" I asked. "They said I stiffed them over our drinks, and they've been making me work the price off since you left." "I know all that, Michelle," Marya smiled. "Bert's an old friend of mine. He's letting you work her as a favor to me. I set this whole thing up this afternoon. He thinks I'm getting an old friend back for a joke that she played on me. By the way, you make one sexy cocktail waitress." "Well, it's no joke to me. Get me out of here!" "What's the matter, Honey? Getting bored? Well, we certainly don't want that." She got up and started walking towards the door to the waitresses' dressing room. "Come with me," she said in a stern voice. I followed her in, not sure what to expect. She turned and locked the door behind her. Then she opened her purse and took out a glass vial with some kind of blue powder. She popped the top and tossed the powder over me. "By the powers of Dark and Light, you cannot move!" I felt a tingle all over. The powder tickled a little, and I tried to brush some off. But I couldn't move! It was like I was a statute. Marya smiled. "Don't worry, Michelle. That's a hypnotic powder. It wears off in about an hour. Till then, you just be compelled to obey the commands of whoever put it on you; which was little old me." I was scared but still paralyzed. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't do anything more than blink. Marya spoke slowly in a low voice. "Hear me, Michael Ryan. When you hear the words '_Look_, _Michelle_', you will become a woman aroused. Your nipples will grow stiff and extended, hard as little rocks, and you will feel the warm hunger for sex in your loins. As your clothes rub against your body, it will be as a caress. When you see a man look at your breasts or your legs, your ass or your cunt, you will actually feel his warm hands stroking that part of you. And, if a man does touch you, it will be as if a hundred men were caressing your body. You will thrill to these sensations and want them all the more, even though you know that it is a spell and that you yourself are a male under a curse. Only the phrase 'Calm, Michele' can free you from these sensations." Marya paused and walked over to the door. "Wait one minute, then you will be able to move and can return to work." She unlocked the door and left. I soon found that I could move again. When I got back into the crowded room, I didn't feel all that different, so I figured the rest of her little hypnosis dust spell hadn't worked. Maybe the first thing she said, that I couldn't move, had somehow countered the second. In any case, I figured that I had better get out of the dressing room and back to work since she hadn't said anything about paying for the drinks. I'd wait tables until I had a chance to find out if it was okay to stop. In the meantime, I'd be busy and away from anything else Marya wanted to try. Marya was already back at her table, and she wave her hand to call me over. "Light beer, please," she said without so much as a glance at me. I brought it, and she gave me a ten. She finally looked up when I came back with her change. "You do seem a little bored. Maybe this will help." She reached over and threw her glass to the floor, yelling "Idiot, I said a martini, not a beer." In a very low voice she whispered. "_Look, Michelle_, every man here is staring at you." I looked up. They were staring at me. And that damned powder suddenly kicked in. I felt hands all over my body; hands rubbing, squeezing my breasts, pinching my nipples. Other hands brushed up and down my legs, from knee to upper thigh. There were hands stroking my ass, and -- ohh! ? fingers playing along the lips of my cunt, caressing my clit. I went crazy from the sensations. I squirmed. I moaned. I dropped my waitress's pad and began to rub my breasts, squeezing them in orgasmic fury. Then, I heard Marya again. "_Calm, Michelle_." I realized that the place was dead silent. I looked around the room. Most people were looking back at me. A few started to applaud, and there were catcalls that I get up on stage and finish the show I'd been giving. "Big Joe" played something brash and sexy on his trumpet. Marya just sat there smiling. I curled my fingers into a fist. That had been the last straw. No matter what she did, I was going to punch her teeth out. "_Look Michelle_!" She turned it -- turned me -- back on. Oh, Lord, it felt good! I couldn't control the sensations of being caressed all over. I just stood there rubbing my body, my breasts, my belly, and on down my legs. Then back up. Slowly. Putting on quite a show for every one in the room, while Marya just sat there and smiled. After a few minutes, I got a little self-control. I gritted my teeth and walked past Marya to another table. The spell was still going