The Queen Of Cups free porn video

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, fair warning. I'm working on this OTHER story...more grounded and realistic with a fairly complex and likeable main character who gets caught in a web of bad decisions. This...is NOT that story. Here, a total jerk--through a magical conceit that I'm rather proud of--gets sent on a humiliation conga. I didn't skimp on the writing so it's still got some funny bits and neat twists, but if huge boobs and lots of sex aren't your thing, then I'll catch you next time. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy! THE QUEEN OF CUPS By Jenny North "Pleeeease?" "No!" "Please please please please please," Monica begged. "C'mon, you know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't life or death!" Becca rolled her eyes. "I hardly think covering your stupid fortuneteller booth qualifies as life or death," she countered. "And just in case I was unclear: No!" "Becca, c'mon, I booked the gig weeks ago. I can't back out the day before! And I just found out my callback for the TV show is tomorrow afternoon. I'm stuck!" "Monica." Becca looked her friend in the eyes. "I can't do it. I don't KNOW any of that tarot junk," she waved around her friend's apartment at the assorted occult paraphernalia she collected. "You don't need to!" Monica said desperately. "It's just a stupid carnival. It's going to be bored housewives and giggling teenagers. Nobody is going to know what a real tarot reading looks like, anyway. They just know from the movies. Trust me. You look at them and tell them what they want to hear. Everybody's happy." Becca shook her head. "I swear, you are SUCH a bullshit artist." "There, see how good you are at reading people?" Monica said brightly. "Look. Last week--my hand to God--I was doing a reading for this girl and I flipped over the Death card, and she bursts into tears thinking she was going to die. Actual tears! Everyone takes it so literally. All you have to do tomorrow is sit around and make up stories. You're a writer, you do that all the time! It'll be like a creative writing exercise!" Becca's eyes narrowed. "That's a cheap shot." "So you'll do it?" Monica asked hopefully. "Oh my GOD, do you owe me for this," Becca groaned. "YES!" Monica jumped off the couch gleefully and retrieving some items from the shelf. "Okay, here you go. Here's a good beginner's book on the tarot, just skim through it and it'll give you some ideas. And c'mon, I'll let you borrow some clothes. Trust me, if you look the part you're like eighty percent of the way there. Heck, with the dark hair and everything, you already look better than me. Just make vague comments about your gypsy heritage." "Is that what YOU do?" Becca asked, looking at her friend's light blonde hair. "I thought you said your family was from Sweden?" Monica shrugged. "I'm sure they had gypsies in Sweden. Probably." "Well, for what it's worth, I actually am something like one sixteenth gypsy on my mom's side. My great-grandmother came from the old country." "Which one?" "I dunno," Becca admitted. "I was a kid when she died. All I knew was that she smelled funny and had crap candy in her house." Monica nodded knowingly. "Oh! Here, this'll help," she said, retrieving an item from a drawer. She handed over a small metal case. "This is pretty, what is it?" "There's a tarot deck inside. I picked this up at an estate sale a few months ago. It looks old, so it'll help sell the image." Becca opened the case and pulled out the deck. "Wow, these are beautiful," she said, looking at the images. "Ow!" she cried suddenly, jerking her hand back. "You okay?" "Paper cut," Becca replied, sucking on the small cut on her finger. "Okay, let's go look at clothes," Monica said. "I've got some stuff that should fit you. You just flash some cleavage in a peasant blouse and the guys'll be too busy looking at your boobs to tell you're making stuff up." "That's comforting." Monica turned to look at her friend. "Look, it's easy. If you get one or more guys, you tell them how they're gonna be a huge success and get laid. One or more girls, you tell them that they're going to fall in love...and get laid. If you get a couple come in together, you can probably assume they're ALREADY getting laid, so give 'em the Romeo and Juliet treatment about how their love will be tested but they'll come out stronger in the end." "Romeo and Juliet died in the end." "See, you know this stuff! You're a natural!" Monica enthused. "What if I get a couple that doesn't get along?" Monica considered that. "Huh," she said. "Well then, I guess you're screwed." She nodded towards her bedroom. "C'mon, let's go see if I've got a bodice you can squeeze into." * * * * * That evening when Becca got home she dumped the fortuneteller's costume on her couch and sighed heavily. She sat down on the couch with the metal case that contained the cards and the book, figuring she'd better read up to have SOME idea what she was doing. She flipped quickly through the pages. Ugh! There was so much there, how was she ever going to learn it all? Fortunately it was still fairly early, so she'd at least have a few hours to practice. She leaned back on the couch to gather her thoughts. She fell asleep in moments. In her dream, Becca found herself standing behind a dark-haired woman. The surroundings were hazy and indistinct, but it was nighttime and the space was lit by candlelight. The woman was sitting at a crude wooden table and was chanting something indistinct. Becca stepped closer and the woman stopped chanting. Looking over the woman's shoulder, Becca could see that on the table were the same tarot cards that Monica had given her earlier that day. The dark-haired woman spoke. Although Becca still didn't recognize the language, she found that she could nonetheless understand the meaning of the words. Such was the nature of dreams. "Sit," the woman said. Becca saw a second chair next to the woman and she sat down. "The covenant has been made," the dark-haired woman said. "I don't understand." "The pact has been sealed with the blood," the woman told her. "Blood?" Becca echoed. Quick as a blink, the woman's hand darted out and grabbed Becca's wrist. She opened Becca's palm and touched the finger where she'd cut herself on the deck earlier. "What does that mean?" Becca asked, frightened. The woman gazed at Becca with a disturbing intensity. "The first card of the first reading will set things in motion," she said. "Then you will see the path to power." Becca shook her head. "Please, I don't under--" With that, a strong wind blew through, snuffing out the candles and plunging the room into darkness. Becca struggled against the woman's grasp and an unearthly green light blinded her. The last thing she heard was the sound of a woman screaming. "AAAAHHH!" Becca woke with a start. She was breathing hard and her heart was pounding. She sat up on the couch trying to get her bearings and looked around her apartment. The clock read 9:00. She breathed a sigh of relief, realizing she'd only slept for a couple hours. As she calmed down and her breathing slowed, she tried to remember what her nightmare was about, but it was gone. She saw the tarot deck sitting on the coffee table in front of her and it triggered some vague memory, but it was fast slipping away, fading like morning mist. Morning... Becca, still disoriented, looked at the window. If it was 9:00 at night, then why was the sun up? "Oh, NO!" she cried, realizing she'd actually slept all night. She was late! She ran for the bathroom, spun around, ran back to grab the clothes Monica had given her, spun around again, and rushed to get ready. The tarot deck sat patiently on the table. * * * * * Becca arrived at the fairgrounds in a tizzy, feeling a little ridiculous in her faux gypsy costume. She checked in and was directed to her tent, which had already been set up with Monica's signage, which read: "Madame Charisma - Astrological and Tarot Readings." The carnival operated on tickets rather than cash, but it was all pretty much spelled out on the sign outside her tent: individual readings for five tickets, group readings for ten. Taking a deep breath--a task made more difficult in the snug-fitting bodice--Becca headed inside. There was a single round table covered with a lace tablecloth with a large almost throne-like wicker chair on one side, and four folding chairs on the other. There was indirect light coming in from the peak of the tent, but otherwise was cool and shady and there was a gentle breeze coming in through the open flaps on side. "Home sweet home," she said, sitting down in the wicker chair. She fished out the metal case out of her bag and removed the deck of cards, getting used to the feel of them in her hands. "I hope I wasn't supposed to pull out the jokers first," she muttered. She fanned them out in front of her, half-expecting one of them to be titled, "The Rules of Poker." Nervously, she retrieved the book about the tarot from her bag, placing it in her lap so that she wouldn't get caught reading it if someone came in. She skipped over the sections detailing the history and got to the cards themselves. There were apparently four suits, kind of like a regular deck of cards. The suits could be called different things, but in her deck seemed to be Swords, Staffs, Pentacles, and Cups. Each of those suits had fourteen cards--ace through ten, and four "court cards": Jack, Knight, Queen, and King. In addition, there were 22 "trump" cards that had no suits...these were the weird ones she remembered from movies, like "Death," "Wheel of Fortune," or "The Lovers." She flipped to the section with the meanings of the cards and her eyes grew wide. Each of the 78 cards had a particular meaning, which seemed to change based on context. Worse, if the card was dealt upside-down, it changed the meaning again, either reversing its meaning or indicating that it was losing power or something. There was no way she could remember all of these! "Monica, I am going to freaking kill you for this," she muttered. She was just about to get to the section on how to deal and organize the cards when someone cleared their voice from the front of the tent. She looked up and it was a nervous-looking teenage girl. "Madame Charisma?" she asked. "That's me," Becca said. Then, trying to affect a more serious air, she smiled and added, "Please, come in, child." She winced inwardly. The girl sat down and asked, "Could you do an astrological reading for me?" Becca froze. What she knew of astrology came from reading her horoscope on her birthday. If you held a gun to her head she might be able to name all twelve signs of the zodiac. "I'm so sorry," Becca answered sympathetically, "but I'm only able to do tarot readings today. Is that all right?" "Oh, sure," the girl agreed gamely. She handed Becca her tickets and looked at her expectantly. "What's your name, dear?" Becca asked. "Amy." "Amy." Becca repeated. "Tell me, Amy, have you ever had a tarot reading before?" "No, never," the girl replied. Becca smiled in relief. "Well then, my dear, you are in for a treat!" she smiled. "Now this first card represents your...past," she started, making it all up. She flipped it over and it was The Sun. For a moment she had a vague feeling this was significant for some reason, but wasn't sure why. "This can be interpreted many ways," Becca continued, her mind racing for possibilities. "It represents light and warmth, such as the warmth of...friendship?" she said, watching the girl's reactions. "Tell me, are there any old friends you might have been thinking about today?" Amy's eyes widened. "Oh my gosh, I totally was!" she marveled. Hours later, Becca was kind of enjoying herself. She'd had several clients come in for readings and while she hated to admit it, Monica had been right...most people knew even less about the tarot than she did after her few minutes of reading. Mostly they were just looking for a few minutes of entertainment, which her storytelling provided. And some people just wanted to get out of the sun into the cool shade of her tent for a few minutes. A couple people saw through her charade in a heartbeat and got upset, but she just quietly refunded their tickets so they left more disappointed than angry. "What did you expect at a place like this?" she overheard one of them say. For most people, Becca just relied on her powers of observation to guess at what they wanted to hear. She'd also learned the power of staying quiet...sometimes if she just flipped over the cards people would blurt out what they were most concerned about. "Is this guy like a priest?" one college-aged girl asked, pointing at The Hierophant card. "It can be," Becca equivocated. "Though it can also mean knowledge, or education." She vaguely recalled reading that. The girl's friend gasped and pointed at the card. "Kelly, look! It's paired with the 'Judgment' card! It must be about the midterms next week!" Becca just smiled and nodded sagely. Later, when an athletic young man came in wearing in the t-shirt for a local college, she looked at him gravely and said, "I sense...that you will very soon be facing a series of difficult tests..." "Whoa, yeah!" he blurted out. She took a short break for lunch and put a sign out stating that Madame Charisma was busy communing with the spirits and would return in 30 minutes. Originally she'd intended to use the time to study more about the tarot, but things seemed to be going smoothly so she used the opportunity to get a quick bite to eat and stretch her legs. Not far away, a couple was having an argument. "Marlene!" the guy snapped. "C'mon you stupid..." he growled, taking her by the hand roughly. "Get over here." "I just wanted--" "I know what you wanted! Freaking everybody could tell what YOU were after," he snapped. "Jesus, I take a day off work and you bitch about having a headache. Then I pay for an afternoon's entertainment and you do nothing but make cow eyes at the fucking soda vendor." "Roy, please, he only asked if we were having a good time, that's all!" she whined. "Ow, please, you're hurting--" He dragged her to the front of a concession stand. "Hey, babe," he said, leering at the girl behind the counter. "Two hot dogs with everything and two Cokes." Marlene rubbed her wrist when he let go of her to retrieve his wallet. "Roy, honey? I don't like to eat meat, remember?" "Hot dogs aren't meat," he countered. The girl returned with his purchases and he gave her a bill from his wallet. "Keep the change, sweetheart." He then gave a hot dog and soda to Marlene and started to dig into his own wiener. Marlene made a weak smile and tentatively took a bite. She'd only taken a few small bites by the time Roy finished eating. "What, now you're not hungry?" he snapped. "I freaking paid for that, you'd better eat it." "I--" "Son of a bitch," he said, looking down at the mustard stain on his shirt. "Here," he said, handing her his soda cup. "I'm gonna go wash this off. Just try and stay out of trouble for a few minutes," he told her and walked off. Becca, who'd been standing nearby and saw the altercation, walked up to the woman. "You okay?" she asked gently. Marlene sniffled and looked at her, surprised. "Oh, I'm fine," she said with a forced smile. "Just a bit of a headache." "Here," Becca said gently, taking Marlene's hot dog and dumping it in the trash. "But--!" Becca held up a hand. "Relax, it'll be our little secret. Come with me a sec. I've got a couple granola bars in my tent right over there and I think I even brought some medicine that works dynamite on headaches." Marlene nodded gently and accompanied Becca to her tent. Soon, they were sitting in the dim light of the tent and Marlene was finishing one of the granola bars. "Better?" Becca asked. "Yes, thank you, much," Marlene replied quietly. "Just give the medication a few minutes and you'll feel like yourself in no time," Becca told her. Then her eyes cut over at the tent flap. "Although I get the impression that your headaches are more chronic in nature." "Oh, Roy isn't so bad," Marlene replied. "He's just under a lot of pressure at work. It was my fault." "I seriously doubt that." Marlene looked around the tent. "So, you're Madame Charisma?" she asked, changing the subject. "That's me," Becca sighed. She made a sweeping gesture with her arms. "Your guide to the supernatural powers beyond the ken of this mortal realm," she said with a flourish before breaking into a coy smile. "I am also a purveyor of granola bars to wayward vegetarians." Marlene finally returned the smile. "That's better," Becca declared. She retrieved the tarot cards from her purse and began laying them out on the table. "Oh, they're beautiful," Marlene said. "I could do a reading for you if you like. Unlock the mysteries of your past, foretell the secrets of the future...have you ever had a reading performed on you?" "Oh sure, a couple of times," Marlene said. Becca started to get nervous then Marlene added, "I went with a friend...I know some of the cards, but I don't really get how it works." Becca quietly breathed a sigh of relief. "Are you sure you wouldn't like me to try?" "Oh, no, thank you," Marlene said. "I really should be--" "THERE you are!" Roy's shouted as he threw open the flap to the tent. "Damn it, I've been looking all over for you!" Marlene and Becca looked up at Roy. As he entered, for the briefest moment, a sliver of light from the afternoon sun entered the tent and illuminated the cards as the sunlight touched them. "Oh, what the hell is this?" Roy said derisively. "Jesus, Marlene, how fucking gullible ARE you?" "Roy, I'm so sorry--" "Please, it was my fault," Becca interrupted. "She was just getting overheated in the sun and I invited her in." "Yeah? You were probably about to invite yourself to her credit card number if I hadn't come in," he said, looking directly at Becca's cleavage. "It's all bullshit and snake oil," he said, grabbing Marlene by the arm. "C'mon, woman, we're getting out of here." Becca clenched her teeth. She HATED this guy. More than anything on earth she wanted to fuck with him. Fortunately, she had a pretty good idea what his hot button was. "It's understandable. Most men have difficulty allowing a woman to...penetrate...their deepest darkest places," she said haughtily. That got his attention. He turned and looked Becca in the eyes--then down at her boobs and then back in her eyes--as if sizing up the competition. "How stupid do you think I am?" he asked. "I'm not giving you ten tickets so you can tell us we used to be Antony and Cleopatra in a previous life." "But aren't you curious which one of you was which?" Becca taunted him. That clearly got under his skin, but before he could respond she added, "Fine, I'll just do one of you, then. And since I'd offered to do her reading for free I'll even do it for nothing. You get to sit in the shade for a few minutes, and I get demonstrate to you the PROPER way that a well-endowed mystic probes the netherworld. How's that for a deal?" She looked at him with all the confidence she could muster, hoping she wasn't laying it on too thick. "Okay," Roy finally decided, easing his way into the seat next to Marlene. "But you're gonna do me." Becca smiled. "I was REALLY hoping you were going to say that." * * * * * Becca looked down at the cards, wondering what the hell she was thinking. She had no idea what she was going to say or do, and the whole thing was a huge sham, anyway. Though she consoled herself that at least for a few minutes this asshole wouldn't be abusing Marlene...she'd given him a new target to focus on. Thinking of distractions, Becca brushed her hair back exposing her bodice-enhanced cleavage. She lowered her chin slightly and looked up at Roy as she narrowed her eyes slightly. She smiled as he gave her a lecherous leer. Becca wasn't going to pass up any advantage. "Now then," she began. "I gather that your names are Marlene and...Roy," she said, playing with his name in what she hoped was a come-hither voice. "And you two are...married? Yes? No?" "Jesus," Roy scoffed. "You don't even know THAT much. See how this crap works, Marlene?" "I don't read minds," Becca said primly. "I only know what the cards tell me. I was just trying to be polite." Roy rolled his eyes. "We're not married," Marlene timidly offered. When Roy shot her an annoyed look, she quietly stammered, "W-well, we're not." "Thank you," Becca told her. "Now," she said, indicating the cards in front of her. "This card represents you, on your journey. And the cards here represent your past, present, and future." She figured that sounded plausible. She turned over the first card, representing Roy. The Fool. "Oh, ha fucking ha," Roy said. "She just shuffled them that way." Becca smiled inwardly. She didn't have the skill to do that, but it meant he was already attributing her with skills she didn't have. That was a good start. "The cards aren't always that literal," she told him. "Here, it can symbolize that you have much to learn on your journey and that you are a seeker of knowledge and experience. In much the same way that you were brought to me today," she said. Roy shook his head derisively. Becca ignored him and continued. "These cards represent your past, the place you are coming from on your journey as you quest for knowledge." She flipped over the first card. The Empress, inverted. "The Empress represents a strong female influence in your life," she guessed. "In your past, that might be your mother or your aunt, someone close to you. For it to show up this early in the reading is significant. Did you have a good relationship with your mother?" Roy seemed vaguely uncomfortable. "Sure, why wouldn't I?" Becca pointed at the card. "For it to be inverted like this oven subverts the meaning. When I see this, it makes me think you had a strained relationship, but if you say otherwise..." Marlene's eyes cut over at Roy but she said nothing. Roy just growled, "Get on with it." The next card. The Knight of Swords, also inverted. She concocted a story. "This is militaristic. Coming so close after the Empress it may be another family member, possibly a soldier or someone with a strong personality. Male, but the lower face value suggests it was weaker than the Empress. Maybe a brother or a weak or absent father?" "My father wasn't weak!" Roy snapped harshly. Bingo, Becca thought. But how best to really stick it home, she wondered. "The inversion usually amplifies this meaning," she decided. "It might symbolize a fallen soldier or an authority figure either unwilling or unable to wield his power." Roy said nothing but just glowered at her. Becca turned the next card. The Two of Swords. "Odd. Another Swords card so close to the other. Usually this means they're connected. It's not inverted so despite its lower face value has more strength than the Knight. Again, maybe another man, connected to the Knight. You might have less of a connection to him, but he's significant and it affected the relationship with the Empress." Becca held her breath. She decided to push the story in this direction since he thought she could portray him as friend of the father, a drinking buddy, or uncle...it seemed plausible. "Oh, my GOD," Marlene said, covering her mouth. "It's bullshit," Roy warned. "It's dumb luck." "But--!" "It's BULLSHIT! It could mean freaking anything." Becca's eyes cut between them. "What is it?" "Roy's sister told me--" Roy waved his hand to cut her off, but Marlene continued. "His sister told me that when they were little, Roy's father left them to be with anoth--" "SHUT UP!" Roy bellowed. Becca's eyes grew wide. Roy's father left his mother to be with another MAN? It was too good to be true. Oh, she was going to enjoy this. "Perhaps we should move on," she suggested quietly. "This next row represents your present. Where you are on your journey." She flipped over the four cards, all at once. She figured that if she did it that way rather than always flipping one at a time it looked like there was some method to her madness and that she actually knew what she was doing. The four cards were Judgment, The World, The Star inverted, and Death. "The first card, Judgment, suggests you will face challenges and trials on your journey," Becca made up on the spot. "The second represents who will be your judge; in this case, The World. It could be the public at large or just people important to you personally." Roy scoffed. "Big deal, I get that every day at work already." "Roy works at a news station downtown," Marlene explained. "He's very important." "This card," Becca said, indicating the inverted Star--her mind raced for a possibility--"indicates the length of the trial." "That's stupid," Roy said. "How can a star indicate time?" "Oh!" Marlene jumped in. "Maybe it has something to do with the astrological signs." She looked to Becca for confirmation. "Is that right?" "Indeed it is," Becca said, relieved. She thought she'd painted herself into a corner, there. "It's inverted, so that means the trial goes until midnight at the end of the current astrological sign." That sounded good, she thought. "Oh, that makes sense," Marlene told Roy. "Right now we're in Libra, the Balance. See, that fits if you're being tested." "Jesus, Marlene," Roy groaned. "I can't believe you know this crap." Marlene looked at him, hurt. "Roy, I'M a Libra," she told him. "Were you going to forget my birthday again?" Roy waved a hand dismissively. "Look, just drop it. We'll talk about later." Marlene, cowed, looked back at the cards. "And what does that last card mean?" she asked nervously, pointing at Death. Becca figured she'd move in for the kill. "That's what's at stake in the trial." Marlene gasped audibly, but Roy shot back, "So, what, I'm gonna die?" He was all bluster but Becca could see a tiny bit of apprehension in his face. "Not necessarily," Becca replied. She carefully enunciated every syllable, implying that it was a possibility. "And sometimes there are fates even worse than death," she said, toying with him. "Or it could simply mean the end of something important, like a move to a new location or a change of careers," she smiled inwardly when Roy made a face at that possibility. "But it does mean the stakes will be high." She let the words hang in the air ominously. "These," she said, indicating the next row, "indicate your future." That seemed like a natural progression, she thought. "Since you are represented by The Fool on this path, you are a seeker of knowledge. I think it's fair to assume based on these cards," indicating the past, "that you will be learning about role of the Empress, and what she represents. It could be one woman or perhaps just women in general," she said, carefully eyeing Marlene. "I know all I need to about women," Roy sneered. "That's good," Becca said calmly. "Because these cards," indicating the future, "show that you are on the path to Judgment." "So, what? I gotta treat women better or some shit like that? This is just more of that feminist bullshit." "What do those cards represent?" Marlene asked, pointing at the table. There were thirteen cards remaining on the table, all face down. There were four groups of three cards--one on top, two below--and one final card beneath sitting on its own. "These cards," Becca said, her mind racing for a plausible story, "represent your trials." She flipped over the group of twelve and when she was finished, the following cards were visible: - The Chariot (inverted). Underneath were The Queen of Cups and Temperance (inverted). - The Lovers. Underneath were Strength (inverted) and The Queen of Staffs (inverted). - The Jack of Pentacles. Underneath were The Moon and The Ace of Staffs. "Each of these cards," she said indicating the cards on top--The Chariot, The Lovers, and The Jack of Pentacles, "represent your trials." "And the cards beneath them?" Marlene asked. "Those...are the consequences of failure," Becca said archly. Oh, that's GOOD, she thought to herself. "And...that card, there?" Marlene asked, indicating the final card, still face-down. "That card represents--" Becca paused, drawing a blank. "--the chance of atonement." She hoped that it sounded like the pause was for dramatic effect. Marlene stared wide-eyed at the cards arrayed on the table. Roy was eyeing them apprehensively and Becca was enjoying watching him squirm. "This is all such horse shit," Roy said with a nervous laugh. "I can't believe anyb--" He was cut off by the sound of a loud ringing cell phone with an annoying ring. Roy pulled it out of his pocket and swore when he saw who was calling. "Yeah, what is it?" he said, annoyed. Becca grit her teeth in annoyance. Damn, she'd really managed to build up the tension and get under that jerk's skin. No way was she getting that mood back. "Fuck, when?" Roy asked, his full attention on the call. "Well, can't you handle it?" A pause. "Jesus, no, not Harris, that guy couldn't find his ass with both hands. Look, just keep it under control until I get there." He stood up and grabbed Marlene by the arm. "We gotta go. C'mon." "But--" Marlene began. "But what?" he snapped. "It's all just lucky guesses and mumbo jumbo," he said without much assurance. Becca saw his eyes fall on the cards depicting with the Empress and the two male soldiers. "It's all bullshit," he announced, looking right at Becca. "You're toying with powers you can't comprehend, jerkass!" Becca said. Roy said nothing and pulled Marlene out of the tent. "Good one, Becca. 'Jerkass.' Way to break character," she chided herself. Rats, and she was really enjoying seeing that bully getting his cage rattled. She looked at the cards on the table, not even knowing what story she was going to make up about the remaining cards. She looked at them for a moment, envisioning funny little scenarios in her head for getting back at the guy. Eventually, she sighed and gathered all the cards back into a pile and began to shuffle. Then she noticed the last card she hadn't flipped over. She picked it up, slipped it into the middle of the deck unseen and waited for her next customer. * * * * * THE CHARIOT (INVERTED) Late that night Roy was driving back home after earlier having to head out to the middle of nowhere to settle a dispute. On his way out there, he'd paused only long enough to drop Marlene off so she could get home. "There's a bus stop at the end of this block," he'd told her. "Don't take a cab--they see you coming and they're only gonna rip you off." Now, he was driving through the darkness on a quiet road while talking on the phone with his boss. "Dammit, Jack, I don't KNOW how they managed it. At least the antenna on the van wasn't damaged, thank God. I got out there and that hick farmer was screaming about lawsuits and damages. No, no, I dealt with it. Look, just relax, I took ca--HOLY SHIT!" Without warning, Roy saw someone in the road jump out at the car, waving their arms at him. He swerved and slammed on the brakes. Fortunately it wasn't a very near miss and the person ducked off the road to safety. If Roy had been paying closer attention to the road, it probably wouldn't even have been as close as it was, not that he would ever admit it. He pulled over and climbed out of the car, running back to where he saw the person. He could see a car that had run off the road and a young woman heading for him and waving to get his attention. "What, are you TRYING to get killed?" he yelled as the woman approached. "I'm so sorry, I thought you could see me standing there under the light of the lamp post," the young woman apologized. "Please, I need your help." Roy looked to her car, a beat up old Ford Taurus. "Is everybody all right?" he asked. "Yes, yes, thank you, it was just me," the woman replied breathlessly. "I was heading back to school after visiting my folks upstate and I crashed the car." Roy looked around. "Was there a deer or something?" "No," she replied sheepishly. "My eyes just got heavy..." "You mean you fell asleep." "I just lost concentration!" the girl said. "It was only for a second." "Jesus, what if you'd swerved into oncoming traffic or something? You think the people you might have killed would deserve that?" He shook his head in disgust and started walking back towards his car. "Please!" she implored him. "Look, I'm stranded out here. Can't you just give me a lift to the next gas station or something?" "Just call a tow truck," Roy shot back. "I can't, I left my cell phone at my parents' place," she told him. "Look--maybe can I just borrow yours for like two minutes?" she pleaded, grabbing him by the sleeve. He yanked away from her as he opened his car door. "So you forgot your cell phone, fell asleep at the wheel, crashed your car, and almost get yourself killed jumping out into oncoming traffic, and now it's MY problem?" he shot back, climbing into the car. "My advice? Go back into your car and try and sleep off whatever brand of stupid it is that you've got." He slammed the door shut, started the car, and pulled away while her cries for help faded off into the distance. * * * * * THE QUEEN OF CUPS, TEMPERANCE (INVERTED) Marlene awoke the next morning to the sound of her cell phone. "Ugh," she groaned. Couldn't a girl even sleep in on her birthday, she wondered? Dragging herself out of bed and rubbing her eyes, she looked at the caller: Roy. She took a deep breath and picked up. "Roy, if you're calling to apologize, it can really wait until--" "Apologize? For what?" he snapped. "Look, you gotta get over here right now!" He sounded upset and angry. Upset and angry on the phone usually meant one thing. "Have you been drinking again?" Marlene asked. "Because we talked about that, and--" "What? No! Jesus, I wish I had!" Roy said in a panic. "Look, there's something wrong, something terribly wrong! I'm...SICK, or something, I need your help!" Marlene rolled her eyes. Yep, he'd been drinking. And she knew better than to go over there when he was drunk. "Roy, if you're sick, just take some medicine and lie down. You'll feel better when you've had some sleep." There was silence on the other end apart from Roy's ragged breathing. "Marlene...please..." he whispered. She blinked in surprise. Did he just say PLEASE? She looked at the ceiling. She was going to regret this. "Okay, sweetie, I'll be right over." A short time later, Marlene knocked on Roy's apartment door. "Who is it?" he called hoarsely from the other side. Marlene shook her head slightly. "Honey, it's me, remember? You called me?" "Come in," he said. "And close the door behind you!" She opened the door and the apartment was dark. The shades were pulled and the lights were out. The only light in the room was coming from what little illumination snuck in through the blinds, and from the aquarium light there in the living room. In the dim light she could make out Roy standing there, apparently covered in a bed sheet. "Roy, what's going on? Why is the apartment so dark?" Marlene asked, reaching for the light switch. "Marlene, NO!" he yelled. But it was too late. The lights came on illuminating the apartment, and clearly making Roy visible standing there in the living room. "What the...?" Marlene said. Roy was draped in a bed sheet covering most of his body, but from the neck up he seemed to be dressed up as a woman. He was wearing incredibly heavy makeup like a drag queen would wear, with the overdefined eyes, huge fluttery eyelashes, contoured cheeks, and scarlet red lipstick over what looked to be unnaturally puffy and distended lips. His eyebrows were plucked and lined and were peeking out from under the bangs of a long flowing wig that fell down to his chest. The wig was layered and pretty, but the color was an unnatural reddish-purple magenta color. It also served as a colorful backdrop that highlighted the big silver earrings he was wearing, dangly 2" hoops with a sparkly fall of silver metallic fringe that came down an additional five or six inches. Marlene saw his hand gripping the bed sheet and saw that he was wearing a glittering silver bracelet and an oversize crystal ring on one of his fingers. His fingernails were long and manicured, and were painted a pretty plum color that complemented his wig. As she looked down in embarrassment, she saw his toes sticking out from under the sheet and they were painted in the same hue. Roy's eyes were wide in terror. She'd never seen him scared, especially not like this. "What's going on?" she asked slowly. "I don't know!" Roy replied. It was kind of funny hearing his normal voice coming out of those big painted lips, Marlene thought. "When I woke up, I looked like this! I swear I don't know what happened!" "You're saying someone else dressed you up like this?" "Well, I didn't do it to myself!" he snapped, setting his jaw defiantly and causing his inflated lips to press into a plump pout. He blinked a few times in a panic and his huge eyelashes fluttered like a cute animal in a Disney cartoon. The whole thing was actually pretty amusing, Marlene thought. It was like every emotion on his face was magnified by the heavy makeup. She tried not to laugh, but he obviously saw the change on her face. "It's not funny!" he yelled. "Okay, we'll figure this out later," Marlene said sensibly. "Let's just get all of this off of you." "It won't come off!" he cried. "Don't you think I tried that? I've been scrubbing for an hour! I can't even get this stupid jewelry off!" Marlene sighed and look a step forward closer to him, but he stepped back nervously. "I just want to see," she told him. He nodded, but he positioned his arm that was holding the sheet to block her from getting too close. He was holding it like a cape with his arm crossed in front of him like he was doing a bad Dracula imitation. She let it pass for the moment as she examined his makeup. It was very expertly applied, she noted. If he'd done this to himself, then he was obviously very skilled at it. "You've done this before, haven't you?" she asked. "WHAT? No!" he objected. "I'm no fag!" "Right," she said neutrally. She looked at his mouth. "What happened to your lips?" she asked. They were incredibly swollen and puffy. "Does it hurt?" "No, but it feels really weird." His inflated lips were covered with a vibrant lipstick that had a very glossy sheen. One time at a bachelorette party one of her friends told her that the reason guys liked that look so much was because it looked like the woman's lips were covered in cum. At the time she thought the notion disgusting, but now looking at Roy with his big tumescent lips and whorish makeup, she saw where someone might get that idea. She gently touched her hand to his lips, dabbing her fingers against his glossy lipstick. She was surprised to see them come back clean. "Huh," she said. She then touched the side of his face, looking at the earrings dangling in his newly pierced ears. As she ran her fingers up into his hairline, she felt for the line of a wig, but there wasn't one. "This is your own hair?" she asked. He nodded. She reached around behind his head, running her fingers along the scalp and through the hair. "I don't feel a weave or anything, just...hair." She was about to say more when she felt the brush of something soft underneath the bed sheet. She took a step back and looked down, then noticed that the sheet was moving down at crotch level. Back and forth. Rhythmically. She made a face. "Roy, are you MASTURBATING right now?" she asked, appalled. "I can't help myself!" "Oh, that is PERVERTED!" she said in disgust. She threw up her hands and started moving towards the door. "I can't believe you brought me over here to take part in your sick little--" "No, you don't understand!" Roy exclaimed. He grabbed her with his left hand to get her to stay--his right hand still being otherwise occupied with his prick--and the bed sheet fell to the floor. Marlene struggled against his grip and spun around to face him, not prepared for what she saw. He was completely naked and all of his body hair was gone. With his right hand he was still stroking his long erect shaft, and on his chest were two mammoth tits! She didn't even want to hazard a guess at a cup size, but they looked like they were nearly the size of his head. The areola were equally huge...big puffy pink silver dollars topped with thick turgid nipples. The huge tits were jiggling in his response to his rhythmic ministrations of his cock. She was appalled but couldn't look away. At first she thought the breasts might have been a clever illusion somehow glued onto his chest, but then she saw a bead of sweat form on one of them and then trickle into the valley between his jiggling mounds. Marlene took a step back in horror, wanting to run out of there but frozen in place, hypnotized by the bawdy show in front of her. She watched as the big nipples on his breasts became even more engorged, and then fully erect. They were sticking out at least two inches in front of his fleshy globes. Roy didn't even seem to be aware of Marlene's presence in the room he was so deep in his sexual gratification. While his right hand continued to masturbate his cock, his left hand came up and started playing with his tits...touching them, stroking them. Finally his fingers found his left nipple and his bit his plump lip as he brushed his nipple and played with it. When he pinched it, he cried out as his body stiffened up, and he yelped in delight as he started spurting his seed all over the floor. He gasped and moaned as his came, lost in the orgasmic pleasure. When it was over, he stood there gasping, his big tits heaving and his body glistening with sweat. He shamefully looked over at Marlene who was staring open-mouthed at him in shock and horror. "What the hell is happening to me?" he asked desperately. They sat down on the edge of his bed together. Roy was covered in the bed sheet again, but now that Marlene knew what was there, the two soft outlines of his breasts were wildly evident, even under the sheet. "Maybe it was something you ate?" she suggested. "Marlene, this isn't food poisoning! God, just LOOK at me, what am I going to do? I can't go to work like this! I can't go ANYWHERE like this!" "And you didn't do anything else after you dropped me off? You didn't meet anyone or stop off for a drink? You just came home and you woke up like this?" "There was a hitchhiker," Roy said. "What?" "It was some chick on the side of the road. She ran her car into a ditch and wanted a ride." "Did you give it to her?" "Hell, no, I'm not stupid," Roy said. "I'm not picking up some stranger in the middle of the night." Marlene nodded. "Do you think she did this to you somehow?" He shrugged helplessly. "How could she? How could ANYONE?" Marlene closed her eyes and looked away. "Roy, could you PLEASE stop playing with yourself?" Roy looked down. One hand was playing with his inflated tits and the other slowly stroking his cock under the sheet. He wasn't even aware he'd been doing it, but he jerked his hands away and put them in his lap. Marlene sighed. "Okay, look, you can't just wear a sheet all day. Why don't you get dressed in some jeans and whatever you have that will fit over your, um, bosoms," she said. He nodded and went to the closet. "Son of a BITCH!" he yelled. Marlene turned to look and the closet was completely empty. All his clothes, shoes, everything. Gone. A single pink garment hung on a solitary hanger. Roy, in shock, took the garment of the hanger and held it up. It was a short pink minidress. It looked too small and too short for him--especially up top--but it was made of a stretchy material that might allow it to fit. "What's that?" Marlene asked, spotting something on the floor of the otherwise empty closet. Roy bent over and picked up a matching pair of pink stiletto high heels. Unlike the dress, there was no question these were made to fit him. They were much too big for a woman's foot and the large size and the high heel make it look like no shoe Roy had ever seen. "Ahem," Marlene cleared her throat to cover the laugh she felt bubbling up and then turned away before Roy could see her smile. She busied herself by looking through the rest of the dressers. "Anything?" he asked. "No, they're all emp--oh." In the last drawer she found something. As she examined the contents, she closed her eyes and counted to five, trying to avoid laughing. "What is it?" Marlene turned around holding the two items. The first was a lacy pair of pink panties. The other was a gigantic pink soft-cupped brassiere. As she dangled it by the strap it unfurled and he saw the two huge cups, which looked like they could transport watermelons. "There's a really cute purse in there too," she whispered, trying not to laugh. Roy slumped back onto the edge of the bed. "What the FUCK!" he moaned. "How does shit like this even happen?" he said, looking at his reflection in the mirror. "Jesus, I look like a fucking drag queen like this." He blinked at his ridiculous reflection and his huge eyelashes flapped back girlishly. Marlene was examining the brassiere. There was a label with a number. 380? That didn't make any sense. Then she realized it wasn't a zero, it was a Q, his new cup size. WOW. "Queen of cups," she giggled. "What?" he growled, irritated by her good mood. She held up the brassiere playfully. "You're gonna be the queen of...cups..." her voice trailed off. "Oh my God, the tarot." Roy made a face. "What, that bullshit yesterday? What of it?" "It's the trials Madame Charisma talked about! You're living them!" "Magic," he said derisively. "C'mon, really? Somebody probably--" "What?" Marlene asked. "They snuck in here last night and gave you a ginormous boob job and tattooed that makeup on and you woke up perfectly healed this morning?" she countered. "And Roy, PLEASE, I am begging you- -stop playing with yourself!" He looked down but he couldn't see his lap with his freakish tits in the way. But underneath them he could feel his hand stroking his dick again. "Shit!" he said, pulling it away. "Ugh, what were the cards?" Marlene tried to remember. "The first one was something about wheels, or a horse...oh! The Chariot! The inverted Chariot!" "Okay..." Roy said uncertainly. He didn't like where this was headed. "That was your first test! The inverted Chariot! It must have been last night when you didn't help that girl with the car trouble!" "So?" "So, you failed the test, see?" she told him. "And now you're the Queen of Cups!" She held up the oversized brassiere as proof. She was grinning, proud of her deduction. Roy looked down at his body, hefting his heavy boobs with some effort. "The Queen of..." "What was the other card?" Marlene asked aloud. "Temp...temper...Temperance! But it was inverted, too." She gasped. "Temperance is like self-restraint, don't you see? But inverted it's the opposite! That's why you can't stop playing with yourself!" "Oh, God," Roy said. "We gotta find that gypsy! Make her change me back!" Marlene nodded. "You'd better get dressed." "What?!" Roy objected. "Screw that! You can go! I'm not going anywhere lookin' like The Drag Queen of Watermelons or whatever." "The Queen of Cups," she corrected. "But you have to, don't you see? You can't just stay home masturbating," she told him. He started to object, but she continued. "Apart from the obvious and...disgusting...reasons, you still have two more trials. If you miss out on those, you might get stuck like this for the rest of your life!" He looked down at himself quietly as that idea sunk in. "I'll go make some phone calls," she told him. "You should get dressed." * * * * * THE LOVERS Roy sat there for a moment, horrified at Marlene's suggestion that he could end up stuck this way. He hoisted himself to his feet, fighting against gravity's hold on the big soft globes on his chest. He walked to examine himself in the full-length mirror on the closet door. He looked like a grotesque parody of a sexy woman, a drag queen's laughingly over- exaggerated commentary on feminine beauty. He furrowed his brow into an angry scowl and the heavily made-up face in the mirror twisted and mocked the gesture, making him look like a dumb bimbo trying to do long division in her head. The high arch of his pencil-thin eyebrows and overly glamorous heavy eye makeup gave him a surprised and oversexed look, especially with how his big feathery eyelashes winked flirtatiously every time he blinked his eyes. And then there were his puffy distended lips, which seemed to be forever stuck in a provocative, simpering pout. He didn't want to say anything to Marlene, but the makeup at least did look oddly familiar to him. He wasn't certain until he saw his huge inflated lips covered with the eye-catching slick red lipstick. They were dick sucker lips, and he'd seen them before. He was at a strip club several months ago and one of the dancers there--Mitzi or some shit like that--had just gotten back from getting her overblown collagen injections in her lips. The other girls teased her for her comical new "trout pout," but Roy had found it fascinating. It was like she was stuck having an open invitation to suck a guy's dick right on her face for all the world to see. And now Roy had those lips. The rest of the makeup also seemed vaguely similar, like it was a "greatest hits" collection of all the trashy and whorish looks that he'd ever found appealing on a stripper or hooker. But on his face it was like the overall effect was amplified, making him look like a caricature of a drag bimbo. And he hated how dumb he looked. His arched eyebrows and preposterous pout gave him a startled and bewildered look, like a stupid bitch who'd have a hard time thinking of anything more complicated than what color lipstick to wear. The long magenta hair and waterfall earrings only reinforced that effect...both of which drew the eyes down to his chest. Not that his tits needed any help getting attention. They were humongous and round, sticking out like a shelf in front of him. Even hanging huge and heavy as they did, they seemed to project at least eight inches from his chest and felt like they weighed fifteen pounds each. Roy's back was already starting to ache. He rubbed the small of his back and arched backwards slightly to get some relief, and in the mirror it looked like he was a girl at a county fair proudly presenting two massive prize- winning cantaloupes. His hand came up to his breast and he saw the glittering rhinestone ring and bracelet he was wearing, as well as his long glamorous feminine nails. They were painted in a vibrant plum color that complemented his unnatural hair color. Roy traced the curve of his breast, gently touching the sensitive pink nipple protruding there. He gave it a little pinch and was rewarded with an uncomfortable and yet erotic shiver of pleasure as he felt his nipples start to become erect. He'd always loved chicks with big fat nipples, but never in a million years thought he'd have a set like these himself. He cast his eyes further down his body, which apart from being hairless and with the painted toenails was otherwise like it used to be. Even his cock seemed to be mercifully unaffected. He idly noted that he seemed to have been masturbating it with his other hand this whole time. "Damn it!" he swore, yanking his hand away. It sickened him that on any level he might be turned on by all of this, but it was all he could do not to throw himself onto the bed and play with his new body. He needed to get dressed. Roy picked up the panties of the dresser, looking at them with disgust. Resigning himself to his fate, he bent over to put them on and nearly fell on his face as the weight of his preposterous jugs pulled him forward. He managed to right himself before he fell and his frisky boobs wobbled in response. Irritated, he held on to the dresser as he carefully stepped into his panties and tugged the lacy pink garment up his legs. It didn't really fit properly over his dick, but he figured that was probably the least uncomfortable thing he was going to have to put up with. As he picked up the humiliating brassiere he wondered how to put it on, especially considering how stacked he was. He walked over to the mirror and held the huge fabric cups against his tits, embarrassed by the surge of pleasure that came from his nipples as he did so. As he held the cups in place and smoothed them out, he saw that they were was a perfect fit. He tried holding the cups in place against his bosom with one hand while he put his other hand through the shoulder strap, but after some fussing realized that he couldn't get his arms in the straps from that angle. He took an annoyed breath and held up the brassiere. Next he figured he could just put his arms through the straps first and then reach around and fasten it in back like he'd seen women do. He put his arms through the straps and pulled the cups to his breasts. He tried stuffing the soft flesh into the cups of the brassiere but they didn't want to fit. He couldn't see past his projecting mammaries, so he looked in the mirror to see what the matter was. He had the bra on upside down. "Shit," he muttered, taking the garment off, flipping it over, and sticking his arms back through the straps. This time he had more success. His tits jiggled playfully as he crammed them into the cups, hefting them up so he could get the strap positioned underneath his bosom. He looked in the mirror. Not bad, he thought, now to just fasten it up in back. The task, he soon realized, was easier said than done. Women seemed to be able to do this effortlessly, but they must be more flexible or double-jointed, he decided. Reaching behind his back to bring his hands together was a difficult and alien maneuver under the best of circumstances, but doing it and holding onto two ends of the back strap and then matching the hook-and-eye fasteners solely by touch was a borderline magic trick. It was a task made all the more difficult with his long feminine fingernails, to say nothing of the fleshy globes on his chest that were merrily bouncing about as he exerted himself. This reverse wrestling match continued for several minutes, but he was getting frustrated and his arms were getting tired. "Shiiiit!" he swore. He thought he had it that time. Mockingly, his brassiere had five hook-and-eye fasteners that need to be done up on the strap to handle the weight of his tits, but he had yet to even get one. He craned his neck and looked over his shoulder in the mirror but his long hair kept getting in the way and it only felt more awkward. And with each failed attempt he slumped his shoulders, which caused his breasts to bounce. It was like his own tits were giggling at his failed attempts to constrain them. He attacked it one last time, straining his muscles and fishing like crazy for the hook to find the matching eyes. He felt contact. It was in! He relaxed his arms and felt the brassiere hugging his breasts and spreading their weight across his shoulders. Except... He looked in the mirror over his shoulder and apparently only one of the five fasteners had closed. Hefting his tits he realized that one little hook probably wouldn't last long against the kind of weight he was carrying. He figured if he could get at least one more closed, it would probably be safe. Taking a deep breath, he reached behind himself and carefully felt for the fasteners. He grit his teeth and smiled in relief as they made contact. Or not. Not only had the second fastener missed the hole, but he'd also managed to undo the first fastener and the bra strap came undone again. He muffled a scream and threw the brassiere across the room in frustration. As he calmed down, he debated foregoing the bra entirely and just wearing the dress. However, the playful wobbling of his tits gave him pause. It would be bad enough to be seen like this in front of other people without also having his boobs jiggling around unrestrained in front of him. But what REALLY irritated him was knowing that women everywhere seemingly did this all the time effortlessly. He hated that bra and he hated his tits, but he couldn't believe that he apparently couldn't do something even the dumbest of women seemed to be able to do. He thought about asking Marlene to help him, but she'd probably do him up in two seconds and make him feel like a pubescent girl asking her mother to help her with her first brassiere. Retrieving the discarded garment, he decided to change his approach and do the fasteners first. He spun the back strap around front and wrapped it in front of himself like he was putting on a belt. But when he looked down, all he could see were his tits. Flustered but still determined, he leaned back, causing his boobs to flop to the sides and give him a better view of the fasteners. He looked at himself in the mirror and he looked like a balloon-titted stripper in an erotic limbo contest, but at least he could see what he was doing. Fussing with his long fingernails, he soon did up all five fasteners and breathed a sigh of relief. He then spun the bra around his waist and shimmied the strap up under his boobs, and then loosened the straps to be able to get them over his shoulders. Success! Mostly. Unfortunately, with the shoulder straps being that loose, the bra wasn't giving his knockers much support. He tried tightening the straps, but that proved difficult since the weight of his breasts kept pulling against them. Exasperated, he looked around and moved over to a tall chest of drawers that came up to about the level of his boobs. Standing directly in front of it, he rested both of his round heavy tits on the flat top to relieve their weight, and then tightened up the shoulder straps. Taking a step back, he felt his big jugs finally snug in the brassiere and the weight of the bra straps on his shoulders. Roy smiled proudly, having solved this apparent engineering brain- twister. He turned and saw his reflection in the mirror: a happily grinning drag queen with his preposterous tits pressed into a stupendous cleavage and stuffed into in his pretty pink over-the-shoulder boulder holder. He turned away in disgust. The dress was next, and while he prepared himself for the battle of the century, it was a fairly simple stretchy pink tube dress. Roy had to shimmy and wiggle quite a bit to get it over his massive endowments, but it went on fairly easily. It was short down below and up top it barely covered his bra, putting his deep valley of cleavage on display, but at least it was on. Padding over to retrieve the high heels, Roy picked them up and sneered. They were strappy pink spike heels, like a hooker would wear. Ugh, he was going to have to wear THESE? He screwed up his courage and slipped the first heel onto his foot. It slipped on easily like he was Cinderella and it was the glass slipper. But it was loose in the heel, he noticed. Then he saw the ankle strap with the little buckle. He bent over and reached for the strap, momentarily surprised when his tits got in the way and pressed against his thighs. Pushing down harder and squishing down his bosom, he managed to grab the tiny little buckle and ankle strap in both hands and tried to feed the strap through the buckle with his long nails. It slipped out of his fingers. He tried again, it slipped again. He tried again, he managed to guide the strap into the buckle...and then it popped out again. Roy almost screamed in frustration. "If some stupid broad can do this, then so can I," he growled. As he vainly fussed at the ankle strap with his hair falling in his face and his stupid heavy twin mounds mashing against his legs, he saw the other matching high heel sitting there on the floor. Even once he got this one done, he would only be only halfway done. Sitting in the living room, Marlene had found a pen and paper and was writing a list when Roy entered. She heard the sound of his high heels clicking on the floor as she finished writing. "Honey, what took so long?" she asked him. "Eww, have you been masturbating all this ti--" She turned to look at him and tried to cover her smile. "Not one goddamn word," Roy snarled, standing there awkwardly on his heels. He was a pornographic vision in pink. The stretchy pink dress barely came down to his thighs and up top it was stretched so tight across his massive breasts that it looked like it was going to fly apart any second. The brassiere had pushed his boobs into a prodigious chasm of cleavage, which was framed by the soft locks of his long magenta hair. With the over-the-top makeup and trashy jewelry he looked like a Playboy cartoon of a bimbo drag queen. Roy was also carrying a spangly little pink purse that was dangling over his shoulder. He discovered that at least it still contained his wallet and keys, as well as condoms and a tampon, which was just insulting. He almost threw them into the trash but he didn't want to risk further provoking whatever mystic forces were arrayed against him, so he left them in there. "Wow, you have really great posture," Marlene observed. "What?" he snapped. "It's just...you never used to stand up that straight before. And with your big--well, you know--I'd have thought you'd be all hunched over. But you're as straight as a runway model," she said. Roy hadn't noticed, but she was right. The weight of his tits was starting to hurt his back and the bra straps were biting into his shoulders, but it felt natural to stand straight with his shoulders back, making his protruding jugs even MORE prominent, if that was even possible. It looked like he was happily showing them off to the world. "I suppose it might make it easier to walk in your high heels?" she suggested. "That's a fucking plus," he grumbled. "I look like a goddamn freak." "No, you look great!" she enthused. When he scowled at her, she added, "Really, you look pretty." "PRETTY?" he mocked. "I'm not supposed to be pretty, or lovely, or gorgeous, or any of that shit," he snapped. I wouldn't go THAT far, Marlene thought, wisely deciding to keep it to herself. "Although? One tiny suggestion?" she said timidly. "What?" he snapped. She pointed at his crotch. His penis was clearly visible through the tight skirt of his dress. "Um, your...thing. I can see it." "So?" "Well it's not very, uh, ladylike," she said. He glared at her. "I mean, can't you, I don't know, tuck it back or something?" "Good thinking," he replied. "Because apart from that, I look COMPLETELY like a woman. Idiot." "Well, it is a shame you don't have more of a figure," she noted, seeing his small paunch and narrow hips that were doing nothing for him in the clingy pink dress. "Well, apart from your, um..." she motioned with her hands making a cupping gesture. He just glared at her again. "This will all be over soon, honey," she simpered, "and everything can go back to how it was." "Not fucking fast enough," Roy grumbled. He crossed the room to sit down on the couch, having trouble in his new shoes. As he sat down on the couch he said, "What have you found out?" Marlene looked down at his lap. "Um, you should really try to sit with your knees together when you're wearing a skirt that short," she suggested nervously. "What the HELL did you FIND OUT?" he bellowed. "I made some calls," she said, cowed. "Unfortunately, yesterday was the carnival's last day at that location. I tried calling the office and the promoters to find out more about Madame Charisma, but they were closed because it's the weekend," she winced reflexively. "I was thinking we could drive out to where the carnival was set up and ask som