The Competitive Edge Playing The Game IIIChapter 2 Weston West Westy
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Just West Of Happy, Part 6 free porn video
Warning: This story contains MATURE THEMES including nudity, sex,
sexualization, and vulgar language. Do not read if you are under 18 or if
it is otherwise restricted for you to do so. If you wish to share this
story, contact me at [email protected]. I will likely agree, I
just want to know in advance.
I decided to split up the nightclub a bit as one of the pieces of advice I
got was to split up the story into some shorter parts so I could post them
more frequently. So here's part 6 and things are slowly starting to heat
up again. This is the shortest of the parts so far, I believe, a scant 10
pages.
As always, if you're interested in following me more closely, please visit
my DeviantArt website: http://whimsicaltales.deviantart.com/ where I will
be updating everything first!
Plot Synopsis: The "girls" make it to Dance Berry at last, but things
aren't quite as they expect. They come face to face with an unwanted
escort, run into an unhelpful bouncer, and Ione finds herself under the
compulsion of another one of Melinda's whimsical commands. What's a girl
to do?!
Just West of Happy, Part 6
By: Whimsy
The sun was already mostly set on what was shaping up to be a chilly
autumn evening by the time we reached the nightclub Dance Berry, and a
line had already formed at its gaping maw of a door despite the fact that
we'd only had to travel a few blocks. Part of the reason was that we were
hampered by Melinda's choice of footwear. Even Melinda was stumbling on
her high heel sandals, though she was taking it a lot more good-naturedly
than I was, possibly because she hadn't fallen flat on her face no fewer
than twice. I, on the other hand, was a complete basket case. Not only had
I had no experience wearing high heels (a fact that Melinda and I actually
shared), but she'd actually given me platform shoes to walk on. I guessed
this was because she enjoyed seeing me flounder about, but it certainly
caused us to make poor time. Melinda had said that she'd wanted to make it
by opening, but she didn't seem too bothered by our lateness as we took
our place in the back of the line.
Once again, I felt on display. This time, however, it wasn't just my
shattered nerves at being paraded around in a body that was not my own.
Between its swooping neckline and relatively short length, the dress that
Melinda had conjured around me showed far more skin than I was comfortable
showing (though I could be wearing a suit of armor and I would probably
still be showing more skin than I was comfortable showing). Combine that
with my giddy, giggling companion and our relative clumsiness and we were
certainly drawing a lot of unwanted attention from the clientele, though
not the kind of attention I was afraid we would draw, fortunately. After
all, we were neither the most glamorous, nor the most sexy, nor the least
clad girls in line to get into the club, even at this early hour. However,
our general behavior and relatively youthful appearances was causing those
around us to wonder at our motives.
"I am so psyched!" Melinda said, bouncing from foot to foot and nearly
falling over, which drew even more attention to us. I couldn't tell if it
was her excitement causing her to bounce or the chill in the air. I know I
was starting to shiver. The chill was setting my teeth chattering as it
washed through my body, which was thinner than I was used to. Then again,
I'd never gone out into a late September night in a skimpy dress as a
woman before.
"You here for a good time?"
I jumped and toppled over, a strangled cry of alarm escaping my lips. My
shoes clattered flailingly trying to catch some traction, but the
platforms were not meant for grip. The world tilted slightly as I crashed
to the ground. At least, I would have crashed to the ground had I not been
caught by a pair of sure, hard arms that held me aloft. After a moment, I
found that my feet weren't even connected with the ground anymore. I was
being held fully aloft.
In a moment of blind panic, I flailed, but stopped when I heard an awkward
laugh.
"Hey, hey!" came a bemused voice, "Don't worry, babe. I got you."
I stopped flailing, if only because of my surprise, and blinked at my
"savior," if he could indeed have been called that. I was being held like
a bride on my honeymoon (would the awkward, uncomfortable mental images
never cease?) in the arms of the last person I expected to see tonight:
George Worthington. I could feel heat radiating from beneath his half-
buttoned shirt, which was clearly left partially open to showcase his bare
abs beneath. He was shying away slightly from my flailing limbs, but
looked neither injured nor put out. In fact, he was wearing a somewhat
infuriatingly amused expression on his face. He didn't even seem to
remember that he'd punched me just a few hours before...but then I
realized I was a girl. Had I even been in the bathroom this morning? If I
was glad of being held for one reason it was because I was feeling dizzy
trying to figure out the causality of Melinda's spells.
He must have mistook my flushed, dizzy features for attraction, for his
grin became a bit more sultry and seductive before he spoke again.
"Trying to get into the club?" he asked infuriatingly, both because it was
obvious what we were trying to do and because there was some hint
in his tone that we either didn't belong in the club or we shouldn't have
gotten in. "You're Ione, right? I've seen you around. Don't think we ever
been introduced, though. I'm George. George Worthington."
I still couldn't find my tongue so, in lieu of responding, I looked around
wildly for Melinda. I was only slightly surprised to see her glaring
wordlessly at George. She still hadn't forgiven him for punching me this
morning.
"I--y-yes," I stammered, realizing long moments had passed without me
responding. I tried to sum up some of the anger I'd felt that morning--or,
if not that, the embarassment
He seemed to find my flustered response charming, for his square features
split into an even wider grin, "Pretty thing like you should probably have
an escort," he said, still not putting me down though I was now squirming
in a passive-aggressive attempt to get him to release me, "I came alone
tonight, so I could devote all kinds of time to you. If you wanted."
The last part was added so hastily that it struck me as an afterthought,
as if he either didn't want me to consider rejecting his proposal or felt
like it was so unbelieveable that I might reject it that he didn't even
need to say it was optional.
His hands weren't entirely what I could call gentlemanly either, and I was
pretty sure I felt a probing brush against the side of my breast, as if he
was searching for something slightly more erogenous. Since the neckline of
my dress made my bare skin more accessible than I would have liked (that
is to say, accessible at all), I stiffened in fear, prepared to redouble
my efforts to escape.
Finally seeming to have had enough of watching me get felt up, Melinda
cleared her throat, "I think we're fine on escorts," she said in a tight
and slightly challenging voice.
I'm not sure why, but the fact that George looked around as if trying to
find who'd spoken put me in a bit of a stand-offish mood and, once again,
I pushed away from him. He seemed to get the point and laughed in what he
probably believed sounded like a nervous fashion, but in actuality sounded
somewhat pretentious, "Sorry about that, babe," he said and, after
"accidentally" letting his hand slide over my ass, set me down carefully
as if he was afraid I was going to topple over again.
I would have been angrier at his care were it not entirely likely that I
would fall over again.
"Oh," he said as I focused almost entirely on staying upright so as not to
give him another excuse to put his grabby hands all over me, "I didn't see
you there."
I adjusted my dress with a huff, praying he didn't see more than I wanted
to show him (which was impossible since I was showing him anything at all)
and said, a bit snapper than I was used to speaking, "We came together."
The boy seemed to look from one of us to the other, a look of calculation
on his face as his gray cool eyes swept from me to Melinda, his head
craning almost comically as he did so. Before he could speak, however, a
throat cleared behind us. I realized after a moment that we had reached
the front of the line.
The bouncer was your typical affair, a meaty man with arms as thick around
as my waist. He stood like an impassive gargoyle and at least 50% as ugly,
staring down at us from behind a clich?d pair of sunglasses. He didn't
even bother to ask us for our IDs, just gave us a scowl.
"Get outta here," he barked.
I blinked in surprise, "Uh...h-hi, we just wanted to--"
"Get out of here," he pronounced more carefully this time. "You don't
speak English, lady?"
I glanced to Melinda, who was looking a bit surprised herself, "Hold on,"
she said, digging in her purse, "you just want to see some ID--"
"Did I ask for ID?" he interrupted.
"But we just--"
"Anything you give me is gonna be fake," he said with cold certainty. "Now
move it, before I toss you ladies onto your asses. I ain't afraid to toss
no girls out."
Melinda narrowed her eyes and I was startled to see a cold fury there that
I'd never seen before, "Listen--" she said through clenched teeth. I could
have sworn I saw a glimmer in her eyes--not a metaphorical glimmer, but an
actual light.
She was cut off again, however, but not by the bouncer. George cleared his
throat and put an arm around me and Melinda, "They're with me, Guss."
"Mister Huntington?" the man asked incredulously. "I ain't gonna get into
trouble for you again, kid."
"Are you going to get into trouble by telling me I can't let my dates into
the club?" George asked with a challenging smile. My skin crawled and I
looked down to Melinda. The conflict in her face was apparent. On the one
hand, I could tell that she despised George almost more than me for what
he'd done to me in the shower. It was a bit startling that she disliked
him so much for something that I considered so trivial, even now. But on
the other hand, she had an equally inexplicable desire to get into this
club.
Maybe it was that her desire to get into the club outweighed her hatred of
a boy she barely knew for doing something that morning, but she didn't
speak, nor did she shoot George any more hateful glances. I don't know
what I felt about her choosing the club over my pride, but I kept my mouth
shut as well.
The bouncer, for his part, seemed conflicted as well. It was clear he'd
played this game with George and I got the distinct feeling that he felt
it to be a "damned if you do, damned if you don't situation. Perhaps he'd
let George in with underaged girls before and had gotten chewed out by his
bosses about it. On the other hand, George seemed to have some sway over
this nightclub, and the bouncer seemed equally afraid of losing his job
for defying George as he did for letting in two obviously underage girls.
Finally, he sighed and stepped aside, "You ladies better behave
yourselves," he rumbled, pulling the door open. "I don't wanna get into no
trouble for this."
"Thanks a bunch Gus," George said. He seemed to feel like he deserved
something for his trouble, for he'd leaned in with his arm over my
shoulder and squeezed my right breast, causing me to jump. "Thank the nice
man, ladies."
Neither of us spoke for a moment, but George's steadfast reluctance to
move and the disgrunted rumblings of the delayed patrons behind us were
strong incentives. I finally nodded, "Th-thank you," I said, my entire
body stiff. His hand was still on my breast, but I dared not move it now.
I did venture a glance down at Melinda. I was somewhat glad to see he
wasn't making similar moves on her, probably in part because it would have
required a more awkward stretch to get his hands around her shorter body
and in part because she had less there to grab. Then I realized that this
meant he was focused solely on me.
I should have found the irony amusing, me being hit on by the man who had
so recently punched me in the face (for having a bigger penis than him),
but all I could feel as he ushered us cockily into the club was sick.
I immediately wished we had not been allowed inside the club, and not just
because George's hand was clamped to my breast. Everything about the club
was so against my nature that I felt a little light headed just being
inside. The thumping, amelodic music was blindingly loud, sending my
vision swaying with each throb of bass, the colored lights were so alive,
so frantic, that I was almost positive I saw some colors that didn't
exist.And then there were the people. Tall, short, fat, thin, there was
every kind of person mingling around, swaying rhythmically to the music,
chattering, fondling, it was so alive in the building that I'd wondered if
I'd been dead for years.
Then again, if this was life, I wasn't sure if I cared for it. It was too
busy, too...much.
Melinda, however, had been distracted from everything that had happened
and swept into the room, slipping willfully out of George's arm and gaped
around like she was seeing for the first time. Her jaw was slack and wide
in awe. She was nearly trampled by a couple that was blythely heading to
one of the many dark corners, the man with his pants unbuttoned, the woman
with her hand in his hair, their lips locked in as tight an embrace as
they, but she hardly cared.
"This place is awesome!" she cried at the top of her lungs. I just barely
made out what she said. She turned to me, her smile returning heedless of
my proximity to the man that she so loathed.
I can't explain it. I felt a warm, lifting feeling at her smile that made
me smile at her as well, a bit sickly but a genuine smile.
"Your little sister is cute," George said at conversational volume right
into my ear. Despite the proximity, I barely heard him. But his voice
served to remind me that he was there. Then his hand, which tried to make
its way under the neckline of my dress. "Not as cute as you, though," he
continued. "You wanna follow those two and find a nice quiet corner? I
know all the good ones."
I felt something warm and wet in my ear and flailed, trying to push him
away. Thankfully, the surprise of my rejection and frantic, panicked push
jarred him loose and Melinda picked that moment to grab my hand and yank
me away. I thought for a moment that she was saving me from George, but
her awe-struck grin showed me that she had utterly forgotten about our
predicament and was, instead, enamored with our new surroundings.
Fortunately, her spontaneous tactic so took George off guard that we were
able to slip into the crowd, vanishing from his side long enough to lose
sight of him in the throngs of people that were already gathered in the
club.
I grabbed her hand and yanked her aside. I completely forgot my place for
a moment, so aching to escape from George's grabby hands. Melinda proved
amiable to my guidance, however, and together we ducked into a small
alcove where I peered around the corner to see if we were being followed.
I breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to see Melinda beaming up at
me.
"Pretty smooth moves with the boy there," she shouted over the thump thump
thump of the music. Her grin was back to being mischevious and playful,
which simultaneously put my mind at ease and made me fear what she was
thinking.
I turned bright red as she pointed at my dress. The neckline was askew and
the slightest bit of pink was visible in the flashing lights. I flailed
for a moment, adjusting it and trying to forget what I saw, "H-He was
groping me!" I cried, trying to make my indignancy heard over the sound of
the music. "I didn't--!"
Melinda just continued to beam at me playfully and I let it slide for a
more pressing question, "Wh-why didn't he remember punching me?" I asked,
too quiet to be heard. Melinda tilted her head to the side, clearly
indicating she hadn't heard me over the roaring music. I sighed and leaned
in, yelling my question again, which made her and I both wince. My voice
still sounded halfway between strange and familiar. It was unsettling.
Melinda sighed. I saw her lips moving for a moment and recognized the
strange shapes they were making. She was casting a spell. A moment later,
the sounds of the music suddenly faded into a soft, perpetual buzzing
sound.
"There," she said. "No one can hear us and we can't hear them."
I looked around, surprised by this proclomation. It was true. Not only
could I not hear the blasting music, I also couldn't hear the two men next
to us talking, nor the DJ, who was appearently making some kind of
announcement over the extremely loud speakers.
"Can you keep this spell up all night?" I asked, awed once again by the
tricks she had up her sleeves. She just smiled at me and waved a finger
warningly. I sighed. Of course she wanted the whole experience. "Why
didn't he remember punching me?" I asked again, my voice hesitant and
nervous. The memory of it was still a bit raw, almost as if the pain in my
jaw and transferred to my pride.
"Don't you remember?" she asked in an exasperated voice that may or may
not have been in jest. "The magic changes things around it. I normalized
your gender so as far as he's concerned, that never happened."
"That...never happened?" I gaped.
She smirked at me, "It did happen," she said patiently, "but according to
him it didn't. Remember when I said that your parents will believe that
they have a lovely daughter instead of a son? Well," she continued after I
nodded lamely, "as far as they're concerned, they do have a son. All the
relevant memories were changed to accomodate that. But the things you did,
the real you, those things never changed. The ability to rewrite history
and change time is pretty significant."
"But my driver's license!" I cried, feeling like I was losing my grasp on
reality.
"I changed that," she explained with a guilty giggle, fishing my wallet
out of her purse and digging through it to retrieve my driver's license. I
looked at it and was surprised to see it still bore my name. "I was just
messing with you. However," she slipped the wallet back into her purse
after I reached for it awkwardly (not that I had a place to put it), "if
you were pulled over and the officer looked at the license, it would look
to him like your female picture."
I stared at her dumbly.
Melinda just shrugged, "The magic is weird like that. If you have any
family portraits at home, your parents will see the female you in them,
even if it really was a male you. You and I would see the real picture
because we're exempt from the normalization."
I stared at her dumbly.
"Look," she said, wrapping her arms around my arm with a playful grin, "we
could sit here all day and discuss magical theory or we could go dance!"
"Y-You go ahead," I stammered lamely, trying to resist her grip. "I--I was
never much of a dancer." Even before she put me in platform shoes that I
could barely walk in. I was surprised that I managed to escape from George
in them. Perhaps it was a testament to just how badly I wanted to get away
from George.
Melinda let my arm drop limp and, for a moment, I thougth she was letting
me off the hook.
Then I remembered who I was dealing with.
"Alright," she said sweetly. "You can stay here."
"I can?" I asked, blinking in surprise. That was surprisingly magnanimous
of her.
"Of course!" her smile matched her saccharine tone, rolling back and forth
on her heels with a beaming smile on her face. "But the longer you stay
here, the more aroused you're going to feel."
I blinked once again at her, not quite following her rather obscure and
cryptic statement. It didn't take me long to "get it," however. I felt my
crotch begin to grow warm and damp, not an explosive feeling, but a
gradual swell. By now I could recognize the feeling: arousal. I was
feeling aroused.
"It'll stop as long as you're dancing," Melinda said, heedless of my
plight. "But it'll pick right up again where it left off when you stop."
"B-But I don't know how to dance!" I protested, squirming my legs together
to try and abate the pleasant, growing warmth. As good as it felt, I tried
to resist it, suddenly feeling the presence of the people around me quite
acutely. Would they be able to tell?
"It doesn't matter," she said encouragingly. "You're a girl! All you have
to do is go out there and wiggle your jiggly bits around and let everyone
stare at you! It'll be fun!"
That didn't fill me with a great deal of confidence, "I--I can't dance all
night," I whined. It was starting to feel noticeable. I could feel a
trickle of my juices running down my leg.
"I suppose you can't," Melinda sighed. I didn't dare believe she was
changing her mind, of course. "Tell you what," she held up a finger as
though she was trying to sell me a new car. "If you grind against someone
for ten seconds, it'll 'reset.' How does that sound?"
I paled a bit. "G-Grind?" I didn't like the sound of that.
For the first time, Melinda looked surprised, "You know," she said,
"grind." She pressed her crotch up against me and began to do a rather
sensual looking dance and she did indeed grind against me in an act very
reminiscent of our previous day's (and this morning's) activities. "Like
this! You have to really get into it though. No half-assing it!"
I looked at her, my head already beginning to swim with the warm glow of
arousal.
"I'll tell you what," she said, her grin turning a bit more sultry. "You
can start with me. But this is the only freebie. I want you making
friends, girl," she giggled to herself, but I could tell her voice was a
bit huskier, almost like it had been last night.
I felt confusion mingle with the foreign, alien arousal again. What was
Melinda playing it here? I couldn't really think about it for long,
however. The feeling was becoming too intense, and soft, little moans kept
escaping my lips unbidden. I had to do something.
So, with a deep, resigned, and shuddered sigh, I walked up to her. My
crotch came up to about her stomach, as short as she was, and her eyes
were level with my breasts. She didn't move, just watching me expectently.
"Make it good," she said again, her usual grin on her face.
I took a deep breath, nibbling on my lip but, eventually, I started to
sway my hips a bit, as it trying to get into the mood. But I didn't really
need any more help getting into the mood. Her previous "command" was doing
that for me. Slowly, the throb of the music came back. It almost felt like
it was pulsing in time with my pussy, and I could feel my body moving with
the same rhythm. I pressed my crotch into her stomach, a deep red glow in
my cheeks and my body as the sound started to roar in my ears. Faster and
faster I went, my body swaying and bouncing with each thrust of my body. I
could feel myself getting into it. I hardly knew what I was doing. I was
lost in the sound. I was lost in my own throbbing need. I pictured Melinda
on top of my rock hard cock, bouncing, moaning, her head thrown back, her
hair wild. I cried out loud...
I blinked my eyes open. I was on the ground. I'd fallen over. A few of the
nearby patrons of Dance Berry were watching me in confusion and some in
concern. Most, however, didn't seem to care. Melinda, on the other hand,
was hovering over me with a satisfied grin on her face.
"That was a freebie," I heard Melinda's voice say from very far away. The
music seemed muted, dull. My whole body was rippling with the aftermath of
some great shock that had run through my it, stealing away my
consciousness and my rational mind for a moment. I felt like I'd gotten
sick and passed out, but with the exact opposite sensation. Rather than
feeling ill, I felt fantastic, a warm glow--
I tried to sit up, but another wave of euphoria rushed through my, sending
ripples up and down my limbs. I lay back down, letting out a breathy moan.
I couldn't help myself, it was just so good whatever it was. Melinda just
continued to watch me with a cattish grin on her face. Someone had spilled
something, something sticky, and my bottom half was laying in it. I felt
like it had gotten all over, up my dress, on my butt, especially in my
crotch. I squirmed a bit, but this too sent surges of sensation rushing
through my body, so I had to force myself to stop. I wondere d if I
slipped on whatever it was that someone had spilled. But I felt like I'd
lost consciousness somehow...
Melinda took my hand, snapping me out of my reverie. I wasn't sure why,
but her look was causing me to blush, "That was pretty intense," she
admitted.
"What was?" I asked lazily.
Melinda's smile grew even wider as she helped me to my feet, a struggle
every inch of the way, "You don't even know, do you?" she said with a coy
smile. I was surprised to see a blush on her features as well. What was so
embarassing that she would blush? "I nudged you a bit with the magic," she
said, reaching over to tap my ring as she got me staggeringly to my feet.
"You just went over the edge, baby."
"Over the edge?" I asked lamely, but my mind was starting to sharpen up a
bit and I was starting to think something really, really embarassing had
happened.
"You just had your first orgasm," she said, patting my shoulder and
turning to head out to the dance floor. "Congratulations!"
I stared at her, my jaw slack, my expression pathetic. I looked to my
right and saw a man watching me with an appreciative expression on his
face. When he saw me looking, he licked his lips and winked.
I felt like I was going to be sick. But then, the arousal began to mount
again, the pulsing of my vagina in time with the music. I didn't have any
time to lose unless I wanted to go through that all over again, this time
without Melinda to help me out.
I already hated this place.
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