Just West Of Happy, Part 9 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. After a brief delay, I'm back on the horse with Ian and Melinda. Things get back to the sexy in this chapter, so do read on. Or don't if that bothers you. But if it does, this account might not be the best place for you! Also, yes, there is a hint of J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter mythos in the "wizarding community" in JWoH, but I am neither setting this story in that universe nor borrowing too heavily from it. As always, please visit me on Deviant Art at http://whimsicaltales.deviantart.com/ for more frequent updates and to keep up with my the goings on of my TG stories. Updates happen there first! It had been an interesting day. When I had woken up Friday morning, I had been a boring guy. Ian West. Shut- in, socially inept, and more or less friendless. I had been expecting a visit from a girl I had met on the internet with some mixed anticipation and trepidation but, overall, I had nothing going for me and my life was both blissfully and woefully boring. Over the course of the day, I had: Met a new girl, Had sex (for the first time in my life) with that girl, Found out that girl was a witch, Watched her make her breasts grow two cup sizes, Watched her make my penis grow a good five inches, Had sex with her again, Had my penis vanish, Grown a vagina, Had my new girlfriend eat out of my vagina and drive me to my first female orgasm, Woken up as a woman, Gotten dragged off to a nightclub, Met two new people by the names of Quincy and Makayla (the former of whom made out with me on the dance floor while the latter, his girlfriend, watched), Was accosted by my arch-nemesis (if someone so boring as me could be said to have an arch nemesis), who probably would have raped me, Was saved by my new "friends" and aforementioned girlfriend, Watched my girlfriend almost turn HIM into a girl (though, for all intents and purposes she succeeded), Found out her parents had died and that all of this might be some sort of bizarre coping mechanism, And, finally, traded (female) orgasms with her. I think I can be forgiven for sleeping in a bit on Sunday. Just West of Happy, Part 9 By: Whimsy Sunday dawned as a bitterly cold and brilliantly bright morning, but I hardly noticed. I had no energy to get up before noon. I had no energy to get up after noon, but by the time eyes registered the painful assault of my slightly-parted shades, it was too late for me. Even though I felt like I could sleep for years, I knew I wasn't getting to sleep. Not with the extra weight on my chest. Oddly enough, the weight on my chest was not breasts, for when I awoke that morning, I had none. No, when I cracked my eyes open, it was to see my girlfriend sleeping on my male chest, the one I had been born with (plus about 20 years, of course). I could see my member, hard with morning arousal, standing proudly in my crotch. It was a welcome sight. And an odd one considering what Melinda had said just yesterday. "I think I'll keep you like this for awhile." I couldn't say I was disappointed, but it was still odd. I even checked to make sure I still wore the magical silver ring that allowed her full control over my body. It glinted in the cold afternoon sunlight, as if it was waving to me, as if it was saying, "yup, I'm still here. Weird, huh?" I could almost have imagined that everything had been a dream were it not for that ring and the lithe, almost girlish woman on my chest. Melinda barely stirred when I stroked her thick, messy mane of brown hair, recalling everything I had gone through over the past day with her. Some of it made me smile slightly in reminiscence. Some of it made me shudder. But none of it helped my growing erection. It was still stiff with arousal. I noticed grimly that her skin, usually a deep, tan hue, was still the clammy, pallid gray tone that it had taken after she had cast magic on George Worthington, turning him into an androgynous girl without his consent. I grew more worried the longer the remained with her strange, alien skin tone and resolved to ask her about it. And a great deal of other things. With my mind (somewhat) cooler now after out sexual encounter last night, I was viewing my decision to not ask her about her parents' deaths with a new perspective. I hadn't wanted to ruin the mood last night, but today, I was more worried than horny. After a few minutes of reminiscing, Melinda stirred. It seemed as though she sensed my being awake and it gave her a modicum of wakefulness as well. She did not immediately turn her soulful brown eyes on me, but when she did my desire to bother her with such dramatic and grim things as her parents' deaths fled me. "Morning," she cooed at me, kissing my now flat chest and causing me to flush. "M-Morning," I stammered back. "I-I notice you gave me back my penis." "Disappointed?" she mewled, propping up her head on her hands and watching me as she spoke. It was very much like the cat who was preparing to swallow the canary. "I could also turn you back." I felt my chest begin to swell again and said quickly, "N-No!" To my surprise, it stopped and I was once again sporting a flat, featureless body. "I was just surprised," I went on. "You sounded like you wanted to--" "I don't know what I want," she said casually, rolling over onto her back luxuriously and stretching. "You need a better bed, baby. This one isn't very comfortable for two people." "We just need to be closer together," I offered in a lame bit of romanticism. Romanticism that elicited a giggle from her. "That was so corny," she proclaimed, sitting up. "Come on. I want to get some breakfast." I groaned and put the pillow over my face, "Can't you just conjure some up?" I asked, unable to hide a bit of whining from my tone. "I don't wanna go out." "But out is fun!" Melinda declared. "And how else am I going to mess with you if we don't go out?" she kissed the tip of my nose, causing me to flush profusely. "But you're still--" I began, looking her naked body over. It was still strange, moreso now that I was less aroused than last night (though more than I had been a few minutes ago), seeing her body in that strange gray hue. It was like her body was painted, but there was no glimmering sheen, no unevenness. It was, for all intents and purposes, like she simply had gray skin. "I'm still what?" she cooed in response, seemingly oblivious to my concerns. "Stunning? Gorgeous?" she tousled her hair erotically. "Gray," I offered lamely. She looked herself over, "Hey yeah, weird," she muttered, examining the back of her arm as if she too was looking for unevenness in coloring, as if expecting it to be a paint job. "That's a little weird, isn't it?" "It's a lot weird, Melinda," I complained, trying to put on my best concerned face. I hoped I would come across as sweet, worrying about her health like this, and not overbearing and weird. I appeared to come off as the former, for she gave me a grateful smile, "You're sweet," she said, leaning in and kissing my cheek. "I'll just change it back." "Change it back?" I asked as she hopped off the bed and padded to the center of my room. "You can just change it back?" "Sure," she proclaimed happily, beginning to mutter in those strange undertones that did not impede her ability to speak-something that was still exceedingly strange to me. "I used to walk around the house with green skin. I love green. My parents were furious with me." My stomach sank at the mention of her parents, but there wasn't even a hiccup in her voice, as if she didn't even remember they were dead. As if they weren't actually dead. I had no reason not to trust her word, but it seemed strange that she could speak so freely about them without even a mention of their deaths. In fact, I realized she hadn't even seemed bothered when she mentioned them numerous times over the last two days either. I decided to breach the subject cautiously, but breach it nonetheless. I felt like it had to be done. "Melinda," I began hesitantly, sitting on the edge of my bed and watching her continue to cast her spell. "How did your parents--" "Damnit!" she spat. I realized with a start that her muttering had stopped. But she was still gray. "What is it?" I asked, subconsciously happy to let the uncomfortable topic drop for a moment. "Why are you still--" "It's not working!" she said, sounding frustrated for the first time since I met her. "I tried every color, every shade from pale white to black." I tried to imagine her as a black girl. It was a strange sight indeed. "But none of it worked," she went on, not privy to my thoughts (though she had, on occasion, hinted that she knew what I was thinking). "I guess I can't change my skin anymore. Damnit!" she spat again, kicking at the air and stomping around as if she was five and throwing a tantrum. "What are you going to do?" I asked with a quivering air. This was bad. She couldn't live a normal life like this. People were bound to notice such an alien skin tone. "I should be able to put a glamor on myself," she muttered, pacing around the room, tapping her chin. "A glamor?" I asked hesitantly. My mind sprung to life with images of bangles and pretty, glamorous dressed. I didn't exactly disapprove of the images, though I didn't see how it was going to help. "You know, an illusion," she said, beginning to mutter again. It was strange, but I could have sworn I heard a different tone, a different rhythm to her mutterings this time around. "Everyone else will see me a certain way, but it won't actually change how I look. It's a loophole." I watched as she cast another spell. This time, I was certain I saw a glittering something fall down around her, like a veil of tiny, sparkling stars. As they passed over her, she suddenly had her regular skin tone again. "It worked!" I proclaimed. "Yeah," she said, looking herself over again, "though I can see through the illusion, so I still look gray. And a strong witch or wizard could do the same. Though I doubt we'll see any of those around here." I blinked at her. This was the first I'd heard of her mentioning other witches (and wizards, which I assumed were male to the female witch) except when she mentioned her parents, who she'd never told me a great deal about. "Are there many of them?" I asked as I watched her walk, still nude, to her rolling luggage, which I knew to be a simple ruse to hide a nearly infinite black hole of storage space. She began to rummage around in it, her face scrunched in concentration, but she answered after a moment. "Many what? Witches and wizards? Sort of," she pulled out a tank-top with a big, pink heart on a white backdrop and tossed it aside. "They keep to themselves mostly. Only the purest magical families have any real power anymore. My family is very old and they don't really mingle with outsiders." I felt a pang of regret, like I was helping her break some long-standing family tradition. She didn't seem to care about what she'd just said however, pulling out a pair of panties and holding them up to me, "Are you sure you don't want to wear these again?" she asked with a cattish grin. "N-No, that's alright," I said, waving my hands quickly and trying to change the subject, "what about other families? Did you know many witches growing up?" "No," she admitted. "I mean, I knew a few other families, but most of them had boys. Wizards," she set aside a pair of tattered jeans. "Most of the other families were trying to maneuver to get me, to keep the blood pure, you know." I stared at her in awe as she began to clothe herself, unable to speak. "You should get dressed too," she said with a coy smile, walking up to me with her jeans on and a bare chest, "or I might not give you a chance." I jumped to my feet, still digesting yet more strange circumstance. Everything about this girl was complicated, I hardly knew what to tackle first. So much seemed to need my attention: her strange symptoms from rampant magic use, her parents' death, this strange sort of forced courtship I assumed she was running away from. I suddenly wondered something. "Am I going to have to fight off some wizard for your honor?" I asked in a rather tight voice as I pulled out a pair of jeans and a blue button-up shirt for my own outfit. "Don't wear any underwear," she said in a complete non-sequitur, wiggling a finger at me. "And no. I'm pretty sure they don't know where I am." I blanched. Had she...run away? "Oh Ian," she sighed, walking to me and putting a hand on my chest. "I chose you. They will just have to accept that. My parents are gone, they can't force me to get married anymore." The casualness with which she said this troubling statement jarred me into action and, almost as if I couldn't stop myself, I found myself blurting out, "How did your parents die?" Melinda regarded me for a moment with an unreadable expression. Blank, empty eyes swept up into mine and she seemed to regard me calculatingly for a moment before shaking her head, "It doesn't matter right now," she said quickly. "Can we just get some breakfast?" I sighed, "Melinda, if you want to talk about--" "I don't want to talk about it!" she snapped. "And if you say one more thing about it, you are spending the day as a girl again! And I may not allow you any clothes this time!" I stumbled at her unexpected ire. I was faced with a difficult choice: to challenge her and incur her wrath in order to try and pries more information out of her or to acquiesce and learn nothing about her troubles. I knew as a man, as her boyfriend, I should have pushed her. I should have fought try and help her, the consequences be damned. But I was never much of a man. I was Ian West, a rather feeble excuse for a man. "S-Sorry," I said feebly. "Sorry what?" she asked, her voice still hard, almost alarmingly so. I watched her for a moment, a rather pathetic, hang-dog look on her face before I muttered, "Sorry mistress." "You're damn right," she snapped. I was startled to see tears her in her eyes and once again found myself reaching out for her, but she recoiled. "If I say I don't want to talk about something, you damn well better believe I do. Not. Want. To. Talk. About. It." She pronounced this final proclamation with such force that I actually took a step away from her. "But," she said, letting herself deflate slightly?\but only slightly?\as she looked back to me, "the fact still remains that you defied me. "That doesn't sound like something a slave does to her mistress, does it? The fact that you finally backed down doesn't change the fact that you pushed me at all." I winced but this, at least, sounded more like the Melinda I knew. The Melinda that played sexual games and teased me. "Since I am a wise and benevolent mistress," she continued, pacing around the room in her jeans and no shirt, "I will give you a choice. You can either spend the rest of the day as a woman, or spend half an hour as one." I blinked in surprise. That hardly seemed like a choice, but I was sure there would be a catch. There had to be. Otherwise she wouldn't have offered it up. "What will I have to do if I choose the half an hour?" I asked warily, guessing that she would make me do something for half an hour if I took that option. She grinned suddenly, making me wonder if her anger hadn't all been just a plot, "You catch on quick, slave," she said with her haughty "mistress voice." "You are rather stinky after last night's activities," she said this last word with some emphasis, looking at me with a significant expression. "You offend my sensibilities somewhat and would like for you to shower. Alone." I paled a bit, "You...want me to shower as a woman?" Somehow I doubted she would conjure up a private shower in my room. "I'm sure you can guess where you will be showering." I was right. "I--" I hesitated. Part of me had been exceedingly happy to be a man again. I felt like I'd finally get a chance to please her the right way. Not with my finger or my mouth, but with my manhood. Maybe I felt like I could prove something to her if I did this. But in order to have a chance to do that today, I would have to shower as a woman. With a shower full of men. I looked her over, an almost pleading look on my face, as if I wanted her to understand my thoughts without my having to speak them. But she was resolute. She remained staring at me with an impassive expression of cold impatience. "You have ten seconds to chose," she said after a moment, as if she was tired of me thinking it over. I blanched, "I-the day!" I said quickly. Suddenly, I felt the somewhat familiar weight on my chest. I looked down and sighed. My breasts were back, heavy and round on my slight, girlish frame, hanging naked and proud. My shaggy, straw-blonde hair rustled against the back of my neck and obscured my vision slightly, causing me to bat it aside resignedly. My pants slipped slightly, but I tried to catch them. "You might as well let them go," Melinda said, grinning suddenly as she unbuttoned her own jeans. "We still need to shower." I sputtered, "but you said--!" "I never said you didn't have to shower if you chose to be a woman all day!" she said with a gleeful cackle. "I only implied it." Once again, I did my award-winning broken-down car impression as I stared at her in disbelief. Then I realized that she was disrobing. "What are you--?" "Being the kind and benevolent mistress I am, I do not succumb to word games.," she said, tossing her panties at my face. I removed them and stared, once again, at her naked body. "But I only implied you had to shower alone if you picked the other choice. We're going to shower together." I blinked stupidly at her for a moment as she walked to my closet and threw it open, "Where do you keep the towels?" I was no help whatsoever, staring gapingly at her as she walked around the room, looking for my towels and toiletries. With a triumphant cry, she found both and started for the door. "Ione," she said warningly, not stopping to look at me. "I'm going to count to three." Not wanting to see how worse she could make this for me, I whimpered and stumbled out after her. The hallway was, blissfully, empty. Since it was a Sunday, however, many of the students were in their rooms finishing their procrastinated weekend homework. That meant several doors were open, blasting thumping music that would have been at home in Dance Berry. I realized several of the open doors were between us and the bathroom. "Come on," Melinda said pleasantly, trotting without a care, completely nude and holding the towel at her side, down the hallway. I scrambled to keep up, trying to grab the towel from her to cover her up, but she was having nothing of it. I glanced into the doorway of an open room as we passed and was pleased to see the boy inside busy scrutinizing his computer screen. So much for homework, I thought with a relieved sigh. He was playing a game. We were not so lucky with the next room. As we walked past, the pair of boys inside, quizzing each other for a test, happened to glance up. Their jaws hit the ground as we walked past, their necks rubber-banding to follow us. I sped up to pass by quicker, giving my breasts a nice bounce and my butt an inadvertent wiggle. Melinda just smiled and waved. I was even more mortified to hear the water running in the bathroom when we entered. I prayed that Melinda was going to give up when she heard this, but she simply turned to me. "How many shower heads are there in there?" she asked, trying to peer around the corner and into the open shower area where I had rather stinging memories of being punched in the face only a day before. I rather wished I could take the punch and leave. "Four," I sighed pathetically. I prayed she saw three boys in there. Or, better yet, four. I dared not look. Melinda peered in for a moment before beaming, "Good, one for each of us!" she said, prancing into the shower before I could even react. I felt my vision falter a bit as my body went numb. One for each of us meant two shower heads were available. That meant there were two boys in there. I tried to make my feet move towards the shower, a part of me not wanting Melinda to go in alone, but it was difficult to move. I could feel each thump of my heart as though it was a jackhammer. "Hey guys!" At Melinda's words, I found myself scrambling for the shower, that bit of me that wanted to protect her from this insanity rising to the surface. The scene I found inside was laughable. The two boys were rather unremarkable. One stood about six and a half feet tall, almost too lanky for his own good, and the other was a few inches shorter, a bit broader but with more of a gut and slightly balding though he looked to be no younger than me. They were staring rather pathetically at Melinda, who was fiddling with her shower knob and trying to get it to work. It was almost like they couldn't bring themselves to move. Of course, they were on opposite sides of the shower, which left the two, open shower heads next to them and also on opposite sides, so I couldn't take one next to Melinda. I tried to speak, but found my mouth and my stomach too dry. I started towards Melinda as she got a steaming jet of water to splatter over her, but she shook her head, "That one's open over there!" she said, pointing to the tall, lanky boy. I turned and, without realizing it, looked up at him. He had closely-shorn hair, placid, deer-like features, and squinty brown eyes. But I hardly noticed that. What I noticed was his not-unimpressive member, buldging almost throbbingly in front of him. I hesitated but knew Melinda wasn't going to let me leave if I didn't at least go through the motions so, putting my head down and trying not to picture the image of the boy's throbbing cock in my mind (which proved almost impossible to do and, even worse, sent a warmth rush through me that had nothing to do with the steam in the shower), I trudged to the shower and turned it on. It was ice cold. I had forgotten, this one was broken. I tried to fiddle with the shower, dancing around the stream and whining. "What'samatter?" Melinda asked, watching me. The boy next to her hadn't moved an inch. His somewhat less impressive penis was pointing right at her as if he expected to get something that I swore to myself I was not going to allow him to get. "B-Broken," I managed to stammer weakly. "Th-that shower is broken," the tall boy next to me suddenly said, turning bright red when he realized I had just said it. "S-Sorry..." he offered feebly. "Well, that's ok," Melinda said with a gleeful expression. "Do you mind sharing with her, sir?" Both he and I stared at Melinda with comically mirrored expressions of disbelief. No sound escaped either of our lips and our jaws were practically on the floor. "There's plenty of water," Melinda added with a return of her mischievous expression. "I-I guess not," the boy offered feebly. To his credit, he was not staring at me, was not taking in the sight of my breasts, heaving with my gasping, terrified breasts, or my vagina, which was glistening with shameful arousal at the scene. "I-I'm almost done though--" "Nonsense! Ione, go ahead," Melinda said, turning her back to me and starting to wash her own hair. If I had been a bit more observant, I would have noticed lather appearing there without shampoo anywhere near her. I glanced to the boy with a helpless expression and he just hung his head, scooting over a bit. Even he seemed to understand Melinda was not one to argue with-it was like arguing with a brick wall. "I-Is this a dare?" he asked. I noticed that his soap wasn't even wet. He'd just started. I didn't dare look at him, but found myself responding in a meek voice, "S- Something like that." He nodded, but didn't respond. We stood, practically shoulder-to-shoulder, in the stream for a good few minutes. I could sense more than see the throbbing of his cock, but I didn't dare move towards my toiletry bucket, which was sitting next to the other shower head, nor did I dare leave. Suddenly, I felt arms wrap around me. Melinda's dainty hands clamped to my chest and she began to run hot, creamy lather all over my chest, "You're not going to get clean like that, sweety!" she whispered in my ear. "You have to work it." The boy, for all his politeness and discomfort, couldn't help but stare now as Melinda's dainty hands smooshed and molded my breasts into each other, lather streaming from her hands magically. The soapy substance trickled down my body with the water and gave me a soapy sheen that undoubtedly called the boy's stamina into question. "You better do something about that," Melinda whispered, continuing to soap up my breasts. "Or he might do something you'll regret." The color drained from my face and, almost unbidden, my eyes travelled down to his cock, which was twitching slightly with the strain he was under. He barely seemed to notice, watching Melinda soap up my body with a dazed, vague expression. "Go ahead," Melinda whispered. "He let you borrow his shower. You owe him something at least." I whimpered and looked at Melinda, but she just grinned up at me in such a way that I knew I wasn't getting out of this without doing something humiliating. I hesitated a moment longer before my hand slowly reached out. But Melinda took my wrist and held it with a free hand. "Don't use your hands." "What?!" I squeaked. "That leaves only three orifices," she said in a mock thoughtful expression. "You can decide which one you want to use. But you're not getting out of here until this guy gets his satisfaction." I whimpered again and looked up at him. His face was...almost pleading as he watched Melinda continue her ministrations on my tits. In a way, I was glad for Melinda's hands. It was driving my arousal through the roof and made what she was forcing me to do seem almost bearable. "Time's ticking," she cooed, licking my ear slightly. "If you don't want me to choose hole, you better get cracking." I let out a deep, shuddering sigh before taking a feeble step forward. This seemed to snap him out of his reverie and he looked at me with a blank, pleading expression. Without a word, I lowered myself to my knees and, before I realized it, I was face to head with his cock, pulsing slightly purple, a tip of precum there as if waiting for me. I let my eyes travel up to his face, which was now shocked and more than a little hungry, as if he couldn't believe but was infinitely pleased at his luck. I cast one more look towards Melinda, but she was heading back to her shower, the boy next to her in the exact same pose as he had been in when she'd left him, still standing rigid and "pointing" at her with his crotch. I looked back to my target. I took a moment and just stared at his healthy- sized member, trying to rationalize what I was looking at. Ok, it was another man's penis. That was no big deal. I had been a woman for the better part of two days. I could handle this. I realized I was lying to myself, but I could feel Melinda's eyes on me and knew I had to do something so I leaned forward, rather feebly, and kissed the tip of his member. The sticky pre-cum met my lips, slightly salty and creamy. Without thinking, I licked it off. I didn't realize what I'd done until the boy above me groaned at seeing it. I turned a bright red and did my best not to look at him. I placed another kiss on the tip, as if pacing myself, but it made working my way up to the act no easier. Finally, I clenched my eyes shut and opened my mouth. I moved my head forward until, finally, I felt something long, warm, and hard in my mouth. Even though he was relatively clean from the shower, it was still slightly salty from sweat and tasted alive, pulsing and twitching as I forced myself to close my warm mouth around it. I heard the boy's groan and felt a trickle more of cum in my mouth. I opened my mouth to cough, but was surprised to feel the boy's hands on the back of my head. Suddenly, I couldn't pull away. I got the feeling, vaguely in the back of my mind, that he was just trying to do what he'd seen done on the internet. I know I had seen my fair share of fellatio therein, and the boy usually held the girl's head. He certainly had the earnest na?ve look of a boy who just wanted to help...but I realized suddenly from even my tiny bit of experience (that is, that moment just then) that this was not an act meant to help the girl. If he'd wanted to help me, he would have let me pull my head back and catch a breath, but instead, he seemed lost in his own feeling and his own idea of what he should be doing. He began to move my head back and forth on his member and I did my best to close my mouth around it without biting down, though the thought occurred to me that I might be able to snap him out of his reverie and breathe if I did so. My breath flaring in my nostrils, I tried to feebly swirl my tongue around his member, even suck at it a little bit, anything to make this go faster, but my ministrations were those of a clumsy girl with no idea what to do with a cock in her mouth and now that he was in the midst of the act, he almost seemed to be unable to cum. I groaned and tried to move with his hands, tried to help him reach his final climax, but it was slow going. The hard length of his member continued to glide in and out, thrusting with more and more speed. At some points, I felt like I was going to gag, but I fought it back with a frankly amazing show of will power and clenched my eyes shut. Something about seeing that boy's crotch rapidly approach and retreat, feeling his balls slapping against my chin, made me feel ashamed. I heard a groan rebound around the room and tried to crane my neck up to look at him, sure that I would see him lost in his ecstasy and nearing release. But I didn't see anything new, just the scrunched face of the lanky boy trying desperately to cum. I swiveled my eyes around and just about bit clean through the boy's cock in my mouth. Melinda was locked in much the same pose I was, the broad boy's cock in her mouth, entering and retreating with almost the same rhythm as my boy's. His hands too were on the back of her head, and I felt a rush of hot anger at seeing that. That boy was face-fucking my girlfriend! I was about to struggle when I felt my boy's body tense and go rigid before he collapsed against the wall. A hot stream of semen blasted from the end of his cock, pelting the back of my throat. Luckily, he let me go and I fell back, coughing and gagging at the sudden velocity of his cum. He wasn't done yet, however, and a few more spurts struck me in the face and splattered against my cleavage. This sight must have inspired even more arousal in him, for he had a few more spurts on my tits after that. The semen was quickly washed away by the stream of water, but I hardly noticed. I had rounded on Melinda, who had apparently just finished on her man, who had apparently been a bit more receptive than mine. "Wh-what was that?!" I practically shrieked. Both of the boys looked at each other, one slightly abashed and the other still completely dazed. They seemed to think that they had gotten all they were going to get out of the encounter and had no desire to stay in the middle of a screaming match between the two girls that had given them free felatio, for they bid a hasty retreat, leaving me staring in disbelief at Melinda, feeling shocked and more than a little betrayed. Melinda wiped her chin, still grinning, "What was what?" she asked, spitting out a bit of the warm white cream but otherwise not looking like it bothered her. "What you were doing with that guy!" I shot back, aware of the disgusting taste in my own mouth, which just reminded me more of the shame and betrayal I was feeling. My eyes stung a bit, but I tried to fight back the tears. Something told me then that I should be angry, not sad, that I should yell, not cry. "What?" she blinked almost comically, as if thinking it absurd that something was bothering me. "I didn't want him to feel left out--" "But you just...I mean..." I sputtered, put a bit off balance by her cavalier attitude towards the affair. It would have been one thing if she'd offered an excuse or tried to deny it. But here she was, carefree and happy as could be about it as if she didn't even register that she'd done something wrong. "I gave him a blow job," she said with the same sort of casual tone she'd had before but a little more wary. She had the expression and tone of a child who'd just been caught doing something wrong but didn't know what it was or why it was wrong. "Just like you did--" "Like you made me do!" I sputtered. "Yeah, so?" she asked, sounding a bit put out now. "What's the big deal?" I just stared at her, shocked that she could ask such a question. How could she not understand? However, I suddenly realized that she'd made me give a blow job to another man and hadn't been bothered by it. Did she think of these things so casually that it simply didn't matter to her? These sexual encounters-did they mean nothing to her? Or was this just another part of the game? Was this just another sign of what I had been afraid of, the reason she'd turned me into a girl in the first place? Was she looked to replace me already? I slumped against the wall and just stared at her, unable to even think about what to say. She'd turned me into a woman again. She'd found an excuse to make me a woman after I woke up a man. She could have had sex with me this morning as a man, we could have fooled around like we had that first night, but instead I found myself a woman again, giving a blow-job to a guy I didn't know and trying to explain to her why it bothered me that she was giving a blow-job to a guy she didn't know. "C-Come on," she said in a concerned voice as we heard the door open in the bathroom proper. She muttered some of those magical syllables and the showers stopped. By the time the newcomer had entered the shower, both Melinda and I were dry fully clothed, she in her pink-hearted tanktop and I in a pair of jeans and a blue-button up shirt, oddly like what I had been intending to wear earlier than morning as a man. Melinda smiled a bit distractedly at the confused man and reached down to help me to my feet. "Come on, Ione," she said, giving me a worried smile. Deciding anything was better than sitting around in the men's bathroom, in the very spot I had just given a blow job to a complete stranger, I accepted her help. Unable to look at her, we left hand-in-hand while the half naked man just stared in confusion at us. "Hey, you can't be in here!" we heard him call just as we closed the door.