Adventures in an Adult Bookstore
- 2 years ago
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Bewitching Bookstore free porn video
When I walked into the tattoo parlor, there were already 3 guys ahead of
me. I wanted to get a tat of a king cobra on my left shoulder. It
would compliment the flaming dragon on my right shoulder and I liked to
think that I could make the dragon and the cobra fight it out when I was
doing lats at the gym. My ink guy told me it would be a while.
I decided to wander around the corner where there was this funky, little
used bookstore with a clangy old bell on the door. It was piled high
with old books and no one there seemed to care about organizing the
place, although I have a feeling there was some logic to the madness.
At the front of the store was an old wooden desk. There was a sales
girl sitting there reading Jung. She had on glasses and her hair was
completely frizzy. She smelled like patchouli, too. It was a damned
shame, because she was eminently fuckable, but clearly didn't care at
all about her appearance. No make-up, bad hair, and a shapeless sort of
sack dress that just screamed out, "hey, I'm a granola chomping hippie
chick and I'm too smart to fuck 'roid like you." Behind the desk was a
big, old fashioned mirror.
I started roaming the aisles. It was the only store near the tattoo
shop so I was either stuck looking at books or coming back some other
time. After a while I found a pretty cool classic Camaro buyer's guide
with some awesome pictures and I decided I wanted that. I could take it
back to the tattoo parlor and read there instead of flipping through all
the crap magazines from ten years back that my ink guy refused to get
rid of.
I went back up to the register. Well, I can't call it a register
really, since the hippie chick just wrote down your purchase in a spiral
notebook and counted out change from the desk drawer. It was pretty
lame. There was some woman standing at the desk chatting with the
hippie-dippy girl and I thought for sure it wouldn't take long since she
clearly wasn't buying anything. I tuned out and waited while whatever
was going on went on. But Chatty Cathy there wasn't going anywhere
fast. I was standing behind her but I could see her reflection in the
mirror and she was some old crone with a mole on her cheek and a waddle.
But she was pretty damned tall. She was talking about, I kid you not,
witches.
"It's a very important book," she said. "Bound in what looks like
purple alligator hide." She paused for effect. "If it falls into the
wrong hands, it could be . . . disastrous! If a bad witch had access to
the spells in that book, believe me..." She trailed off and Hippie
Dippy looked intrigued.
I began to shift my weight from foot to foot as the old windbag began to
talk more and more about various aspects of witchcraft and good versus
evil. I rolled my eyes and finally after what seemed like an hour long
dissertation on the history of vexations, amulets, charms, divinations
and whatever else, I could no longer keep silent. She talked about how
some witches were good, some were evil, some used spells for justice,
some just for mischief, yada yada yada yada...
"You have to be a pretty stupid woman to believe in witchcraft," I said.
The old woman turned around slowly, stunned. "Excuse me young man?"
I repeated myself slowly and annunciated for cocky effect. "You have to
be a Pretty. Stupid. Woman. To believe in witchcraft."
"My goodness you're rude," she finally said after staring me up and
down. "I bet you think you're all that and a bag of Fritos, what with
your pecs and your abs and your horrendous little tattoos."
"Hey," I replied. "Bitches love these!"
She sighed heavily and with contempt. "So," she hissed. "You don't
believe in witchcraft?"
"No way," I laughed.
"And there's no way you could be wrong about that?" she asked.
"I'm never wrong," I said cockily.
"I think I can change your mind," she sneered.
"I don't think so," I replied.
She waved her hand behind her and things got really quiet. The Hippy-
Dippy just got bored by us and returned to reading her book. The old
crone stared at me hard and I cold hear her breathing get slow and
deliberate. Her eyes narrowed and I just looked at her hard right back.
No old loon was going to best me in a staring contest.
"You don't very highly of women, do you?" she said.
I felt arrogant. "Nope," I responded.
She waved her hand again, right in front of my face.
"Have you ever beaten a girl? Lied to a girl? Treated a girl with
contempt?"
"Of course," I said. It was like I didn't even care. Admitting this to
the old bitch was just, well, it seemed boring.
I began to feel funny though. Sort of nauseated, like I'd just gotten
off a roller coaster. My vision seemed blurry, too. What the fuck?
Was I losing my cool with this old windbag. I breathed in deeply and
gave up the staring contest. I looked down to stop the dizzy feeling.
When my vision focused again I noticed the oddest thing. The air around
me seemed to be shimmering like a mirage in the desert. Suddenly I
noticed that my jeans seemed like they were moving, twisting, rising up
towards my waist. I closed my eyes and shook my head and looked again.
By this time my jeans had reached almost my crotch and below that I was
naked.
"What the..." I muttered.
By this point my skin felt like it was on fire. My whole body was
itching and aching and I felt like I was getting pummeled by some pretty
angry dudes. My shirt sleeves began to recede just like my pants. As I
watched I could see through the shimmering air that my skin was getting
paler, less hairy. My nails began to extend out and they turned a
glossy bright pink. I felt my chest throb and I found it even harder to
breathe. Slowly, my pecs began to expand, growing out into what seemed
like giant, fleshy orbs. My shirt shrank around them and soon my vision
was even further impaired by a curtain of yellow that blocked my view.
It took me a moment to realize the curtain was hair. I shook my head.
"What the fuck," I completed my thought.
I looked past the old biddy at the mirror behind the desk. The Hippy
Chick kept reading her book. It was as if I wasn't even there. In the
mirror I saw what I understand was my reflection, since it blinked when
I did and moved when I did. But it wasn't me. Not the me that had
walked in the shop. I was clearly now a blonde chick with a supermodel
face, made up in the most fuck me expression I could imagine. I was
wearing a shiny pink lycra halter top with a zippered front holding back
those massive orbs, which I now realized were -duh - breasts. My naked
midriff sported an oversized tattoo of a pink heart with the word "LOVE"
emblazoned inside it and roses growing all around it. I was wearing
matching pink lycra hot pants and south of that nothing but a pair of
six inch flaming red stilleto shoes. I was also now shorter than the
old hag, so I was probably something shy of 5 foot 6 inches tall. My
blonde hair fell down to my shoulders. My mouth hung open in shock.
The old lady smiled weirdly.
"Do you believe in witchcraft now?" She asked.
"Oh my god," I said. "What just happened? What have you done to me?"
My voice was high-pitched, almost squeaky. "What did you do!"
"I put a spell on you," she said. "And her." She waved at granola girl,
who seemed engrossed in her book."
"Fuck," I said. "This is not cool, lady."
"Well," she asked again, "do you believe in witchcraft now?"
"Fuck! Yes. Yes, is that what you want me to say? Just turn me back?
Shit. What the fuck am I wearing?" I felt my lycra hotpants with my
now very petite manicured hands. "AGHHH. I have a pussy? OH MY GOD!"
"Do you believe in witchcraft now"
"YES!!! I believe in witchcraft! Now turn me back!"
"Ah," she said mischievously, "but only pretty, stupid women believe in
witchcraft." Then she smiled again.
"What? What are you talking about. I said I believe you're a witch, now
turn me back!"
"But you said only a pretty, stupid woman would believe in witchcraft.
And you also said you couldn't possibly be wrong about that. Now the
universe must be in balance. If you aren't wrong about that AND you now
admit you believe in witchcraft, there is no other logical possibility
than for you to be a pretty, stupid woman."
"But you just turned me into a woman. A fucking hot one, too. But I'm
not stupid." I paused and she smiled again. "NO! No, no, no, no -
please just turn me back. I promise, I'll never be bad or lie or..."
The old woman just widened her smile and waved her hand in front of my
face again.
"Oh god no," I said. The air began to shimmer again. "Oh god." I
closed my eyes tightly and clenched my little fists.
I knew the old woman walked out the door when I heard the bells ring. I
kept my eyes closed for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, and
slowly, I opened my eyes. Staring at me from the old mirror was the
gorgeous blonde I had become. My mouth hung open limply and my giant
blue eyes seemed dull.
"May I help you," the girl behind the desk said. I looked at her and
everything shimmered slightly again.
"Ummmmm," I heard myself say. I couldn't think of anything else.
"Ohmygod. Ummmm. Like isn't this the tattoo shop? I really thought the
tattoo shop was like right here."
"Does this look like a tattoo parlor?" the girl said to me, shifting her
glasses.
I just looked at her.
"We're a bookstore. Hello?"
"Ohmygod, like, you know? I mean maybe, like..." I looked around
again. "Ohhhhhhh," I squealed. "I am soooo stupid!"
I smiled and went out to try to find the tattoo parlor. For some reason
I wanted to get a tattoo of a little witch flying on a broom. Wouldn't
that be cute? Like right on butt cheek? Heehee.
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