Naked in School Homer
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Take Me Home free porn video
I heard the voice the first time Shayna let me into her apartment. I
don't think I mentioned anything to her that first time. I didn't want
to come off as weird or anything. I did at some point, just off-
handedly, and she gave an answer that made me turn it into a joke.
Hearing a voice in her apartment! Was I crazy?
But even back then, I loved her. So I ignored the thin, calling voice
that urged me, "Take me home."
It grew stronger. Every time I was at Shayna's place, I heard it a
little more clearly, a little more insistently. The first night we had
sex, the volume of it suddenly spiked, and I almost couldn't finish. I
couldn't ignore it, so I sort of just incorporated it into my rhythm
until we both came. "Take me home." I think that night was the
beginning of the end.
It was a few nights later that I found myself in her bedroom alone, and
for the first time I heard a direction from the voice. It was calling
me towards her dresser. Towards a drawer. I opened it, and found rows
of folded panties. But there was only one that was calling me, sort of
in the middle, to the left. "Take me home."
I didn't. Not that night. It was weird as hell. But knowing where the
voice was coming from, it didn't take too much longer before I broke
down. "Take me home." Just one night while Shayna was doing something
else, I went into her bedroom, stuffed the pair of panties in my pocket,
and came back out before she knew the difference. I was on edge the
whole rest of the night. Left early, told her I was feeling nauseous.
It was weird being in her apartment without the voice.
I got over that, too. The voice left her apartment, but it started
again soon enough. This time, it was in *my* apartment. "Put me on."
Same voice. Weak, but not as weak as the very first time. Just droning
at me constantly. "Put me on."
The second day of the new voice, I tried to throw the panties out. I
went to the place in my closet where I'd hid them, bent down, picked
them up, but as I stood back up the voice screamed at me. "Put me on!"
I started walking out of the bedroom, but the voice just got louder and
louder. "Put me on!" I wanted to go into the kitchen, but instead
found myself walking into the bathroom and pulling off my pants. "Put
me on!" Then I pulled off my boxers. "Put me on!"
I finally slipped on the white cotton panties, and was rewarded with
silence. For a moment, I marveled at their comfort. They were snug,
but not too tight. It was almost like this pair of panties was designed
for a guy. But that was silly.
I put my pants back on, and went about the rest of my day.
Until night came, and the voice returned. "I want a skirt."
It wanted what? "I want a skirt."
I wised up to this one pretty quickly. If I put on a skirt, it would
stop bothering me. Or maybe I should just take them off and throw them
out. Why hadn't I done that in the first place? I took my pants off,
and went to pull down the panties as well, but the voice got louder. "I
want a skirt!" I could *feel* the voice now. Like it was jumping into
my loins. It felt so horrible, I couldn't make my hands form a solid
grip. "I want a skirt!"
Shayna'd left some clothes with me once. I went over to where she'd
left them and sorted through them. Shirt, shirt, pants... no skirt. "I
want a skirt!" But there was a dress. low-cut, cuffed sleeves, yellow
and flowing. There was a dress. "I want a skirt!"
Hoping the dress was good enough, I took off my shirt and pulled on the
dress. I didn't get even a moment of silence this time. But the voice
sounded different. "I want a bra." It had a different reverberation.
"I want a bra." It seemed like I felt it talking throughout my whole
body. "I want a bra." It was the dress.
To my slight horror, I found very quickly that now, I too wanted a bra.
It was like I was going crazy. It didn't even feel odd when I started
negotiating with the dress. "Let me take you off, and I'll go buy a
bra."
"I want a bra."
"I'll leave the panties on!"
"I want a bra."
"I swear, I'll be back as soon as I can."
"I want a bra."
What could I do? Under the stern watch of Shayna's dress, I took it
off, pulled my pants and shirt back on, and made my way to Target. The
whole time the panties were screaming at me again. "I want the dress!"
I almost couldn't keep my foot steady on the way back. "I want the
dress!" I launched myself up the stairs, slammed the door behind me,
tore off my shirt, and desperately put the bra on as quickly as I was
able. "I want the dress!"
With the bra secured, I pulled the dress on over my head, over the
jeans, and it yelled at me: "I don't want pants!" I took them off.
"I want to be full." This voice was new. It seemed to echo inside my
chest. "I want to be full." The bra felt like it was tightening around
my skin, pushing itself as close to me as possible. "I want to be
full." It didn't make sense. Was the bra moving on its own? "I want
to be full." Tighter and tighter, the bra felt firmer against my skin.
"I want to be full." The voice was weakening. I hoped that was a good
sign as I made my way into the bathroom. As I got into the bathroom and
looked at the mirror, it gave one last, quiet call. "I want to be
full."
I should have known by now. The only way a voice goes away is if it
gets what it wants. The bra wasn't tightening against my chest, my
chest had been expanding out into the bra. Looking into the mirror, it
was clear that I now had plenty of cleavage spilling out of the yellow
dress.
Before I had a chance to react, I heard a new voice. No, this one
wasn't a sound, it was more of a feeling. I felt a new voice. "I want
a necklace." The breasts. They were talking to me. "I want a
necklace." Suddenly, I wanted one, too. They were my breasts. A part
of me. What they wanted could influence what I thought. "I want a
necklace."
I left the bathroom, genuinely hoping I'd find a necklace somewhere.
I'd never worn one before. The thought echoed in my head now, along
with my chest. "I want a necklace." Where would I have one? I got a
flash of inspiration. I opened a drawer that hadn't seen daylight in
years and pulled out a box that hadn't been opened in longer. I pulled
out a Bible, a picture of Jesus, and... the crucifix necklace they'd
given me on my Confirmation. I'd worn it for a month, then put it away.
There was nothing in the world that could have made me happier. I had a
necklace.
"I want a slender neck." The necklace made its pronouncement almost
immediately. "I want smaller shoulders." The breasts didn't even give
me time to think. "I want smooth arms." The bra. "I want a smaller
waist." The dress. "I want a flat tummy." The panties.
The chorus of demands just erupted from there. My neck joined in. My
shoulders joined in. Half my body wanted things, and it was almost
immediately afterwards that they got them. "I want a bigger butt." "I
want shorter legs." "I want nail polish." "I want a pretty face." "I
want long hair." "I want small feet."
The more parts of me changed, the more detailed the demands became. I
lost track of who was saying what. "I want brown eyes." "I want a
shorter hemline." "I want thinner body hair." "I want french-tip nails."
"I want a birthmark over my left ankle."
Then things started getting more refined. "I want a 32" waist." "I
want to be C-cups." "I want nude pantyhose." "I want frosted pink
lipstick." "I want to look like I've just been waxed." "I want to be
wavy and drop down between the shoulder blades." "I want to fit into
size 7 shoes." "I want to be the same color as the dress." "Me too."
"I want a pointed chin." "I want a vagina."
Then I was in silence. I looked at myself in a mirror, and after all
the twisting and changing, I realized that I looked just like Shayna.
What was happening? Was there some sort of curse that Shayna had fallen
victim to, and now I had as well? Was this somehow something that
Shayna had done intentionally to punish me for something? Maybe it was
a test, something to turn me into what I desire, and so by turning into
her I passed?
"I don't care." It came from my crotch. The voice seemed calm, but
firm. "I don't care." The statement and the sense of apathy
reverberated between my hips. "I don't care." My tummy seemed to agree
now, and my thighs too. "I don't care." My chest, my knees, suddenly
felt entirely uncurious about everything. "I don't care." Down my
calves, up my shoulders and arms. "I don't care." My hands, my feet.
My whole body didn't care.
I took a deep breath, held it a moment, then let it out. "You know, I
really don't care. I'm Shayna. That'll do fine."
I took off my dress, changed into my nightgown, and slipped into bed.
Whatever I was, it was what I wanted to be.
Sherry
- 19.03.2022
- 20
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