Esther III
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Press The Button - Part III free porn video
Part III
(Sorry, life and work have gotten in the way of finding a groove and
finishing this part. I hope you enjoy it!)
I hugged the shopping bag to my chest and rushed out of the shop, past
the young woman now arguing with her boss. My feet carried me around a
display table, away from the conversation, which was apparently going
quite badly. I felt a twinge of regret for her, but the realization that
what happened was entirely beyond me crashed back on my head, and I
redoubled my efforts to escape. The remaining sweat from my encounter
with her stained my forehead, and with a quick movement I swiped at my
face to rid myself of it.
I passed the young male cashier again, and in an effort to not look
suspicious I slowed back down. At least, that was what I told myself as I
looked over his direction. He was bagging up another customer; the ripple
of his arms stood out more than before. My rush slowed to a walk, and
then nearly to a standstill as he said his thank-yous to the girl he was
assisting. I felt the corners of my mouth curl a little, then I caught
myself.
//What am I doing?// I thought. I shook my head gently, my hair brushing
my cheeks, and picked up the pace once again.
In a daze I wandered the nearly-empty halls again, glancing around for
nothing in particular, but in just as much effort to look busy and not
draw any attention to myself. I could feel my chest moving as I walked,
not a lot, but easily more than than I ever had before. Nipples rubbing
awkwardly and free from any confines, I walked past a lingerie store with
a newfound respect and fascination, looking over the plastic model in the
window. I looked at the straps she was wearing, wondering if I needed the
support if, for no other reason, to keep myself sane. The cups looked
comfortable, and as I found myself stopped and looking at the model my
conscious mind kicked back in.
//I'm a guy! A man! Men don't wear bras! What the hell is...//
One of the workers came by the entrance, near where I stood. She was
fairly plain, a bit large but far from unattractive.
"Could I help you with anything, miss?" she asked. I noticed her looking
at me with a customer service smile, and a second later I registered she
was actually talking to me.
"Oh, no," I said. My voice wasn't high, but had an air of delicacy to it.
"I'm... just looking."
Her eyes blinked with her smile. "No problem, if you're looking for
anything, just ask!" And as quickly as she appeared, she vanished. I
turned back to the model in the window, then shifted downward to my faint
reflection in the glass. If I hadn't known who I was looking at I would
have probably never noticed her; a trace of femininity, a touch of
androgyny, possibly a late-blooming teenage girl. I walked away from the
stranger that matched my eye.
I wandered into a store a few doors down and leaned against a bookshelf.
I needed to get away from the public view, even if nobody realized (or
could imagine) just what I was going through. The shop was dark, with
only a couple lights dotted around the surprisingly spacious interior. I
felt the wooden shelves against my back, and saw a few glass cases filled
with unusual knick-knacks.
"I'll be out there in a minute," I heard a voice call from somewhere. I
lifted my head up to look for someone, then wandered deeper into the
store. An assortment of old-looking books sat under glass, ancient-
looking books, but without a speck of dust on any of them. I heard the
steps approaching from the back, and saw a young man resting against the
back of the display case.
"Hi Clay, what're you looking for?" he asked. He was a nice-looking young
man, wire-rimmed glasses and a sharp gaze. Behind his t-shirt was obvious
care through the gym, and his broad shoulders-
"Wait," I said, still surprised with my own voice. "How did you know my
name?"
He smiled. "Doesn't matter," he said. "But what does matter is your
clothes don't really fit very well, do they?"
I looked back down at my baggy button-up shirt and ill-fitting jeans,
then back up to the young guy. His eyes were really easy to look into.
"Yeah, I... I guess," I said. I suddenly felt very self-conscious and held
my belt loops to try and hide what he had just pointed out. Turning away
didn't seem to help me calm down.
"It's OK, I can help with that if it's what you want." The young man
ducked below the counter for a moment, put quickly popped back up with a
black leather belt. The silvery buckle reflected in the halogen lights of
the shop.
I looked at the plain thing, then back up. His smile was hypnotizing,
and I was having trouble focusing. I shook my head.
"No, wait!" I said. "Who the hell ARE you!? And what the hell is
happening to me!?"
The young man smiled in welcome fashion. It actually helped a little.
"You played the game and you made the choice, and then you chose to make
it happen," he explained. "It doesn't matter if you clicked it on
accident, you still made it happen."
"H-How is that even POSSIBLE?" I asked.
"You didn't see the sign when you came in, did you."
I thought about running back outside, but I needed answers, and I didn't
trust myself to run back in if I checked.
"Eh, doesn't really matter. The boss's out today, so I have to watch the
shop while he's gone." He stuck his hand out. "I'm his intern, Andrew.
Nice to meet you."
"This..." I hesitated, then took his hand in mine. He had a firm, strong
grip, and his arms were thin, but toned. "I'm... Clay."
He chuckled. "Sorry, you don't look like much of a Clay," he blurted. I
yanked my hand back.
"Can you just... fix this?" He scratched the back of his neck.
"I know the boss can, I don't know when he'll be back. But I might have
something that can help, if you want." He reached under the counter and
pulled out a small bracelet. Instinctively I recoiled - it was a dainty
little thing, with a silver butterfly prominently crafted at the center,
concealing the clasp.
"This should help with the sudden shifts," he said. "I don't know if
you're over the worst or whatever, but-"
"Just give it to me already," I said, angry. "'Over the worst'? I don't-"
I checked my jeans quickly with a hand, then turned my attention back up.
"I still have my dick, but I remember... I DIDN'T have it, and your stupid
game TOOK it from me. Like, TWICE now. If that's not 'the worst' then
please, tell me what is!"
His hands shot up like I was robbing the place. "Look, I'm sorry, I
didn't have anything to do with it! And hell, you can wait for the boss
to come back if you want, we can... I dunno, play cards or something, just
calm down!"
I sighed. //Maybe I should wait, that'll get me back to normal,// I
thought.
//Plus, I can spend some time with this guy. He seems nice, maybe some
poker would calm me down... maybe some STRIP poker could he-//
"NO I HAVE TO GO RIGHT NOW." I grabbed the bracelet and started out.
"Hey wait, you've gotta pay for that!" I heard him jump the counter and
reach me, grabbing me by the arm. "It's not that expensive, but you've
still gotta pay for it!"
His grip was as firm as his handshake. //Maybe I should wait...//
I shoved my hand into my pocket and pulled out a crumpled bill and threw
it at him, then wriggled free. I stormed out with the bracelet and
refused to look back. As I reached the door and started to turn, I heard
his voice behind me.
"Don't you want your change!?"
---------------------------
Meanwhile...
Andrew sighed. "She was pretty, too."
"Calm down, tiger. You didn't forget the rule already, did you?"
Andrew looked up. His boss was there, his arms crossed with a mock stern
look in his eye.
"No sir," Andrew said. "Just... thinking about loud, that's all."
"I know, it's alright. She's turned out very pretty so far, hasn't she?"
"Yeah, kinda my type, too. Maybe it's her still thinking like himself,
but I like that kinda... I dunno, punk look? Butch?"
The Wizard laughed and patted him on the back. "You kids nowadays, I
don't even know anymore." He started toward the register, then turned
back around. "So just making sure, do you actually know what you sold her
to help?"
"Yeah, the Anisi Gem, right? The one that helps with sudden reality
shifts?"
The Wizard shook his head. "That wasn't the Anisi," he said. "You pulled
the one next to it. Do you remember the one I placed around there the
other day?"
Andrew's eyes went wide. "Wait..."
"Yeah?"
"That wasn't... the Emergence Chain, was it?"
The Wizard nodded.
"Then she's gonna..."
"It'll still help with the shifts, so it's not like you did a LOT of
damage, but you should be more careful next time." The Wizard turned back
around and started walking. "Lock up and we'll make sure she's OK."
Andrew ran to the doors, flipped the latch, then ran back to watch.
---------------------------
I fiddled with the small bracelet. The latch was having trouble clasping,
so I shoved it in my pocket as I rounded out of the store. I saw the book
store ahead of me, so I made a beeline, but before I picked up the pace I
looked back to see the shop again, but all that was there was that nasty
white paneling with a piece of paper:
"NEW SHOPS COMING SOON!"
I looked around me, but that was it. I didn't see any sign, nor any sign
it had ever been there.
//Maybe I was just hallucinating.// My hand was still in my pocket, the
tips of my fingers sliding over the butterfly, feeling the ridges in the
wing pattern. //But after everything that's happened today I don't really
think so...//
Absentminded I ducked into the alternative clothing store, and couldn't
help but stare at the pop culture costumes on display. One was a
sweatshirt of one or another ninja turtle, glancing over it gave me a
feeling of nostalgia, but next to it was a short-skirted sailor outfit
with a massive bow tie across the chest. It wasn't an actual bow tie,
just a stitched-in accessory, but it still drew my attention.
"You a fan?"
I turned. A young man with a nostril ring and a badge reading "Devyn"
near my eye level.
"I'm sorry?"
"You're looking at the Sailor Moon outfit. We just put it up last week,
starting to get ready for the Halloween rush." His eyes drifted, but I
was too focused on his multi-colored hair to care much. I just wanted to
run my fingers through it, grab it and pull it close and-
//Oh no.//
His expression changed. His eyes went from drifting to sharp focus,
practically undressing me near the doorway.
"It's a slow day," he whispered. "The register's covered, come with me."
He grabbed me by the hand and practically dragged me toward the center of
the store, goth skirts and skinny jeans coming in and out of focus. I
looked at his arm, a generic tribal design circling his wrist.
//Oh no,// I thought.
//Oh no not this guy, please! Not a guy at all! What am I doing!?// But
I was already starting to grow wet and bothered, a slithering snake of a
tattoo weaving around my outstretched arm. It felt like pins were tapping
along my skin as the design crept up, then touching in places clothing
had covered, though it wouldn't be covered for long. When the needles
reached my ribs I started breathing heavier and heavier, and as I felt
them spread across my chest in mass I felt a sharp prick at my nipples.
My knees wobbled.
We ducked behind the solid counter and his hand pulled my face to his,
smothering me in a kiss that curled my toes. My hands, as if driven by
another force, wrapped under his shoulders and pulled him closer,
crushing my still-growing chest to his, and the friction across my
nipples put me so close to the edge. My nails dug into his shoulder
blades and my head whipped back.
"You want it rough?" he growled, grabbing the front of my shirt and
exposing one of my breasts, its new barbell piercing shining under the
flourescent lighting. I snapped back to attention, finding thick raven-
black hair with a bright pink streak sticking to the increasing sweat on
my brow and obscuring my vision. I felt his fingers testing the metal in
my nipple, alternating between rolling it between his dirty nails and
pinching just a little too tight.
"Oh god," I snarled with a high-pitched click of my new tongue piercing.
"Just fuck me goddamn it!" His response was to rip the rest of my shirt
free and expose my new and long tattoo, the barbel stuck through in my
other nipple, and drop his face into my cleavage as his hand grabbed my
breast; by then he couldn't grip ALL of it, but he palmed it like a
pitcher ready to throw. The pain was sharp and intense, and I could feel
the certainty of bruising, but it only added to my growing arousal.
I gasped, but held myself together long enough to peel my far-too-tight
jeans from my thick legs and toss it next to a ratty backpack slathered
with band logo patches. I tried to focus on them to hold my own pleasure
at bay - AFI, Black Flag, the Cramps - but with every twitch of his
tongue on my bust I was losing the battle. And what a way to lose!
I felt his lips keep playing with my nipple, but his hand started running
down the bottom of my breast, then over my stomach, and without warning
he shoved his finger into my dripping orifice. My gaze hit the ceiling
and my eyes went wide, my surprise matched with the pleasure that came
from it. He wasn't as good as the girl from the clothing store, but he
sure was enthusiastic!
I scratched my extended nails into his back, and with a grunt he started
shoving his finger, then a second, in and out of me, and I couldn't help
but buck against them. His hand pulled out from my pants, fumbled a
moment with the front and yanked them down, then took both of his hands
off me - I whimpered - and pulled his shorts down. His cock was standing
straight up and out, and I stared at it for what felt like eternity.
"Suck it," he said.
Up until that point I had only seen two real-life penises in my life: my
own, and one accidentally in the boy's room. That time hasn't been even
remotely interesting. But staring at that one, stuck in the body of a
busty nympho with a snake tattoo and pierced tits like a horny groupie
for Motley Crue, that dick wasn't just interesting. It was intoxicating.
//Oh my god,// I heard in my voice, my male voice, in my mind before I
twisted, crawled, and was trying to deep-throat it like a champion.
"Yeah," I heard him moan as I raked my tongue across the bottom of that
dirty, lovely, sweaty, manly dick. It struck the back of my mouth, and I
gagged, but pulled forward and I kept sucking, kept trying to fit as much
between my bruised lips as I could.
His hands grabbed a handful of my thick hair and forced me down, keeping
the rhythm I had set. It only drove me harder to suck and push more into
my hungry mouth. One of my hands slid down and brushed my clit; I
couldn't stop it. I needed more.
I pulled back to take a breath, and he took the initiative once again by
pushing me back, away from that glorious meat, but pounced and thrust his
hips up. He missed my pussy, but his manhood rubbed against my clit and I
gasped.
"You want this?" he said, a mixture of wanton lust and intimidation. I
looked him in the eye, then down at the sweaty gap between us, wrapping
my black-tipped nails around that throbbing monster. My hands filled with
his flesh, I pointed it to the right location, and he did the rest.
"OOOOOHHHHH FUCK!"
He pistoned in and out like the Mustang he couldn't afford working in
that nasty shop. His balls slapping my ass would have been enough to
drive me over the edge, but when he grabbed my breast again and twisted
my barbell, I couldn't hold anything back. The orgasm actually gave me
vertigo. I felt my eyes crossing as my skin came alive with every
sensation hitting me at once: being filled by that dick, the bruising of
my lips, the twisting of one nipple nearly to the point of pain and the
drying saliva on my other.
"Too... too... much!" I gasped. My heart was flying, and he kept pumping. I
saw his face in a warped-glass haze, and I recognized that look. The tips
of my tits pressed into him as hard as I could as he released and pulled
me hard to him, his hips spasming and the heat of my pussy feeling the
warmth of his seed shooting into me.
He panicked and pulled out as fast as he could, the cum hitting my tanned
belly and belly piercing, then warming the space between my tits. He
hovered over me taking deep, exhausted breaths, just as I was laying
immediately under him with the weight of my tits shifting after each of
my matching breaths. I looked down at myself again: the size of my tits
obscured my view, but I found the drops of cum scattered across my torso,
my neatly-tripped bush, his deflating cock... and even the fact that he had
never taken his pants entirely off.
//Oh for fuhh...//
Straightening up quickly he bent over, pulling his pants back up and
tightening them at the buckle. He looked over at my pile of stretched and
ripped clothing, then adjusted his shirt as he jumped to a random rack
and removed a few hangers. He threw them to me.
"I'm gonna go to the back," he said, a nervous look across his face.
"Just... just take some and go, OK? And take your clothes too, just... just
get dressed kinda quick, OK?"
And as quickly as he'd been to grab my arm and drag me to the register,
he left me completely alone, utterly brain-fried from frenzied sex, in
the center of his goth shop.
I stayed laying down as he left to keep catching my breath, the air
coming easier after each intake. I could feel my bust getting smaller,
though not by much, and when I looked down again my skin had lightened
from the tanned hide he had dreamt me to have back to a slightly-darker
cream color. The thick hair I'd grown wasn't as long as I'd tried to
remember, but still stuck to my sweaty face, as did the bright pink
streak.
I scrambled to grab the clothes he had left, a collection of band shirts
and black skirts. Struggling to get a Nirvana band image over my
expansive bust (as well as the sensation of sliding cotton over my newly-
acquired piercings and seeing them poke at the front of the shirt), I
grabbed my old jeans, struggling to get them to fit. They did, but like a
too-tight second skin. It appeared as though my ass has puffed out along
with other parts of me.
When I moved cautiously out from behind the counter I caught a mirror
near the entrance; I had turned from an ambiguous, possibly-cute teenager
into a goddamn pinup girl. My already-big eyes went wide as the curves
stretched, then pinched, in and out of my too-tight clothing. The band
shirt was a size too big but only went to fully display my large, firm
chest; the jeans rode low on my wide hips; and my face, framed by my new
locks, was the too-hot-to-be-there girl at the front of the concert.
My hand struggled into my pocket then out, white-knuckling my keys.
"I need to get the hell out of here," a high, breathy voice said.
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