Missed the first chance
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Breadwinner free porn video
The smell of baking bread wafted from the kitchen into the living room
and over to the front door as I came home. I love the smell of fresh-
baked bread. Wally knows it, which is why he made baking his new hobby
ever since he gave up on finding a new job.
I put down my purse and drifted into the kitchen, clicking my tongue.
"Wally, we've still got three rolls left from the last batch!" I
gestured to the basket sitting on the counter that held three breads
that resembled fat hot dog rolls. Although they taste much better than
hot dog rolls.
"Those aren't rolls any more," he countered, wiping his hand on a flour-
caked apron and pulling one of them out of the basket, "they're
bludgeoning devices." Wally tapped the roll against the counter,
receiving a hollow thud in response.
I grinned. "I'll bet they're still good for something."
"Something, sure. But what are we going to eat with dinner?"
I smiled warmly. Wally made for a really ugly housewife, but he tries.
He doesn't really have any other option. It's hard to be fifty-five and
already know that you're useless to society. That the job you worked at
all your life is now obsolete, and nobody's training people at your age.
Sometimes I feel like baking for me is the only time he feels useful to
anybody anymore.
I think it's even harder on him because he knows that we don't even need
his second income to stay solvent. We've had the mortgage paid off for
years, we never had kids, and I reached tenure at the university a few
years ago, so I've got a salary as long as I want to work and when I
retire we'll have my significant pension.
He was still waving that roll at me as I came up to him and smothered
him in an embrace. Then I started to feel guilty about something else,
something that's always bothered me in this relationship, although I
guess it's silly. Wally claims it's part of what attracted him to me in
the first place.
Wally's not a small guy, but I'm still a good three inches taller than
him in my flats. I guess you could call me a "big girl." I'm not fat
or anything, although nobody's ever accused me of being skinny either.
I'm just, well, big. It makes me feel like I'm exaggerating his
problems just by existing. Not only am I the breadwinner, I wear bigger
pants than him, too.
But he always says he doesn't see it that way. After a few moments of
me holding him like that, he pushed me away and started muttering
something about burnt bread not doing anybody any good, then went to put
on his oven mitts. I grabbed the two remaining stale rolls and slunk
out of the kitchen, telling Wally to meet me in the bedroom when he was
done. I looked at the two rolls in my hand with severity. I needed
something that Wally had made so it could work as a conduit. Something
that represented his bond to me. Bread.
I went to my makeup drawer and pulled out a few jars that aren't exactly
makeup. I twisted one open and used the brush on the lid to paint the
rolls with the transparent liquid. Then I twisted the others open and
sprinkled a little powder from each on the rolls. Then I put them on my
bed stand and changed into something that Wally would find more
interesting.
Part of it was my guilt, part of it was selfishness, but I'd made the
decision fairly soon after Wally was fired. That's why I nudged him
towards baking, and that's why I established the tradition he was about
to put into practice.
"Mia," he called from the stairway.
"You know where I am," I replied.
Wally walked into the doorway, holding a small roll carefully in his
hands. First roll of every batch, we came up to the bedroom and ate
together. Wally sat down on his end of the bed and pinched the roll at
one end, tearing it down the middle. Steam rose from the fresh bread
inside as I untied Wally's apron from behind him and flipped the neck
strap back over his head. He tossed away the apron and turned to me,
handing me half of the bread.
This would work to connect us more strongly while I did what I had to
do.
My eyes didn't leave his as the aromatic steam wafted into my nose and
the soft bread brushed my lips. We bit into our halves simultaneously,
and my lips slipped into a smile again. I always love Wally's baking,
but today's bread was even better than normal.
The taste of the bread was still in my mouth as I leaned over to kiss
him and unbuttoned his shirt. He started pushing his hands up
underneath my own shirt, but I stopped him. No, today was going to be a
bit different.
I put on my best seductive face and told him to lie down on his stomach.
He did so, and I pulled the now-unbuttoned shirt off of his back,
leaving him in just his around-the-house shorts. Then I took one of the
stale rolls and started rubbing his back.
"Mia," he said with mock suspicion, "what are you doing?"
His fake suspicion triggered my very real guilt, and I faltered a bit
before saying "Back massage. I told you the rolls were still good for
something." Then I started pressing the stale bread harder into his
back. Through a combination of the good quality of his baking and my
little enchantment, the roll never even cracked.
"Whoa, it's starting to itch a bit back there. Am I getting crumbs?"
There were no crumbs. But I stopped a moment to examine what was
happening, both for his benefit and to make sure I was doing this right.
Just as I expected, there was a patch of skin right in the middle of his
back that had a slightly different tone than the rest of his body. It
almost looked like a rash or a sunburn, but I knew better.
"It's alright, honey," I assured him, "it's going to itch a little, but
it'll feel so much better when I'm done." As I said this, I gently
rubbed the patch of new skin with my bare fingers. The skin there was
soft as a baby's, and a deep moan escaped out of Wally's mouth.
"Yeah," he said, "I guess you can keep doing that."
I'd gotten over that hurdle, so now the rest would be easy. I started
rubbing around the edges of the patch in the middle of his back, and it
grew with my ministrations. Slowly, the shape of Wally's back began to
change too, as the new parts of him pushed outward against the old
parts. His deltoids and shoulders grew outwards, the small of his back
grew longer. I worked my way down to his waist, out to his sides, up to
the nape of his neck. Any skin I could see until it was all one solid
tone: a smooth, blemish-free surface.
I took a moment to look at Wally's new back. For a split second I was
jealous, but I reminded myself that I didn't need this. Wally did.
Then I looked at the roll in my hand. Like I expected, it had gotten a
bit thinner along most of the length, and fatter over at one end. Part
of me couldn't really believe that this was working, but I chose to
ignore that part as I started kneading the roll into Wally's butt.
The fabric of his shorts changed more quickly than his skin had, and the
change spread by itself. Soon, instead of polyester knee-length grey
shorts, Wally was wearing a cotton knee-length grey skirt. By this
point, Wally had his eyes closed and didn't seem to notice the change in
fabric. I took a moment to admire how the light material displayed his
butt, then I reached under the skirt with the roll and started massaging
the backs of his thighs with it.
When my hands reemerged from under the grey fabric, the backs of his
legs down to the knees were the same tone as his back, and the flesh
there had expanded in all directions. His butt was bigger, too, and l
didn't have to lift the skirt to see the obvious panty line that the
added mass had caused. The roll had refined its shape more. Now the
bread was clearly phallic, but still rounded and indistinct. It had
gotten harder, too.
I finished making my way down his legs, going over his calves and heels.
I nudged him in his now-rounded shoulder and whispered "roll over, now
it's time for the front."
Without saying anything, without opening his eyes, Wally rolled over on
the bed, over to my side. I noticed with some satisfaction that his
feet were at the same place on the flower-print quilt as mine usually
were when I was in that position.
I forced myself to stop admiring Wally's resting form and start working
again. Too long a break and he might open his eyes. I started with his
feet, rubbing them with the bread until the skin was soft and his rough
toenails were crystal clear. The feet grew a little. Wally and I had
always had the same size feet, but I guess now his are finally bigger
than mine.
I moved up to the shins, the knees, watching as coarse hair and hardened
muscle gave way to soft skin and gentle curves, seeing his flesh expand
ever so slightly. Further, up his thighs and under the skirt again. I
could feel it as his hips flattened, widened, and finally his member
shrank and disappeared.
He moaned lightly as I rolled the bread over his belly. He already
looked younger, if oddly proportioned. My selfishness, my selflessness.
Part of me made him younger for his sake, to be able to learn and adapt,
to feel useful again and to know that he had a future he could develop.
Another part of me did it for myself. I didn't want to see him
deteriorate, so I gave him so much youth that by the time he reached
this point in his life again, I'd be long gone and unable to witness it.
But that wasn't enough. The spell needed a template, and I guess I
could have found one other than myself, but I convinced myself that he'd
be better off as a woman. He wouldn't feel pressured into being the
primary provider. If he felt useless again, he would feel satisfied
with a house-bound role, because society would tell him that it was
okay. Then again, maybe it was so that I wouldn't have to see my
husband's face every time I looked at him.
In either case, I took away his problem, and made him more capable of
dealing with it on the off chance that it came back. Belt and
suspenders, I thought to myself. Ironic how he wouldn't be needing
either of those garments anymore.
His arms, his belly, his neck... all that was left below the chin was
his chest. I wasn't sure how this would work. The roll was basically a
penis and a set of balls now. I grabbed the shaft and pressed the balls
end on top of his left nipple, then rubbed around in a circle. Once
again, the flesh changed tone and expanded, although a bit more
dramatically than the rest of his body. When the skin stopped changing,
when the chest stopped expanding, he had a single large boob, bigger
than my own I noticed. And soon after he had two large boobs, perfectly
proportioned.
I took a step back. The body wasn't exactly mine. I was a template,
but he wasn't an exact copy of me. He still held most of his physical
characteristics, just shaped into my general mold. I noticed that he'd
grown some more, his feet almost coming to the end of the bed. It made
me deeply happy for him. That, finally, my husband was taller than me,
and he wouldn't have to worry about people looking at him strangely when
we walked together.
But then again, would we be walking together any more? The spell should
have created a bond that would keep us together, but our relationship
would have to be different.
I looked at his face. That wonderful face that I'd spent half my life
with. I was about to make it disappear. Suddenly I had second
thoughts. Could I reverse what I'd done? Find some other way to help
him? How could I live knowing that this new person I was creating used
to be my husband?
I didn't have time to think about that, because as I stood next to the
bed, Wally opened his steely blue eyes. His expression was confused,
worried. He looked up at me wordlessly, eyes pitifully staring directly
at me with this sad, pleading look. The magic was too well infused into
him now, he wasn't really a full person. But he still felt, and I could
see the pain in his face.
There was only one way for me to ease that pain.
I wrapped Wally in my arms and rested my head next to his. Then I
started stroking the bread roll against his hair. I don't know if it
was the magic or my physical contact that calmed him down, but I felt
his breathing slow, and when I pulled back I saw that his eyes were
still glassy, but the expression wasn't pain, it was just numb. The
more I stroked, the longer his hair grew, the more his grey areas
darkened to chestnut brown. His face widened as his skin softened, his
features becoming more rounded, like mine. His eyes closed, and I was
free from the haunting gaze. When they opened again, they opened wider
than I'd ever seen them go, and his irises were a deep brown.
The tears were gone.
The pain was gone.
She just had this curious look, so stark a change from how Wally had
been just a moment ago. She curled her lips into a smile, and I had to
turn away so she wouldn't see my own tears start to form. I couldn't
let her first new experience be my crying, She would be confused, she'd
react badly, and it might taint our life-long relationship. I didn't
want that, so I left her to her own devices for a few minutes.
She found the roll, the one that had changed her, just like she was
supposed to, and pushed it under her skirt, barely even noticing me.
That was fine. For her, there was nothing special about today. This
was a part of our normal routine, I guess.
I looked over at the second roll I'd prepared. Should I?
"Oh," the new girl moaned, "how do you get bread to come out like this?"
I buried my head in a pillow quietly enough that she wouldn't notice. I
couldn't do this. I couldn't live knowing who this person used to be,
even knowing that I'd helped her, improved her life. I still wanted us
to stay close, and we would, but I wanted to remember too. Wanted to
keep Wally in my head so he could still exist in some way.
But it would never work. I couldn't have both. If she stayed in my
life, she'd always remind me of Wally, and if she left then I would lose
the bond. I'd made a mistake by even trying this in the first place.
So I didn't have a choice.
I silently lifted myself up, reached for the second roll, brought it to
the side of my head and, for the second time that afternoon, I killed my
husband.
It felt weird. Like, when your sinuses are clogged and you turn your
head, the feeling of all the gunk inside moving from one side to the
other. That's what it felt like. Just little waves of pressure moving
out of my head and into the roll. Little waves of discomfort, my small
price for a lifetime of blissful ignorance. Little waves causing silent
tears to press themselves out of my eyelids as I squeezed them shut.
Why was I crying? I was losing something, but what? I'm usually not
this unstable. Especially when Wendy's around. She just makes me feel
better. Maybe it was this sinus headache.
I opened my eyes and rubbed them. Had I been crying? Maybe an eyelash
fell into them or something. What was this I had in my hand? It looked
like a small bread roll, but it was molded into the shape of a man.
That was odd.
I looked up at Wendy, still going at it on her own, and decided it was
time for me to join the younger girl. Normally getting involved with
one of my students was repulsive, but what I did with Wendy, well, it
didn't feel that way. It wasn't a romantic thing. It just felt natural
for us to be together. Maybe it was how we were both big girls. Maybe
it was our shared bread fetish. Even though we were clearly doing
something sexual, it didn't really feel that way.
I unbuttoned my blouse and started rubbing Wendy on the backs of her
shoulders. She leaned back into me and the warmth of her body just felt
so comfortable. Like it was something I'd lived with all my life, and
couldn't live without.
Well, I wouldn't have to. Wendy's a special girl. She's going to be
somewhere amazing one day, and I'm going to be with her every step it
takes to get there.
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