Becoming Anita Smith, Book 2: Phil To Sharma, Part 1 free porn video

Thanks to Crocus 6, kwerty, Greggor7000, and Anon for the nice comments on the previous installment =) Thoughts on the future of the story were taken into consideration and mostly applied here, though not as you might have expected :p Steamy Prologue: Sharma lay in bed, the film of sweat that covered her bare midrift throwing moonlight across the room every time she breathed. Up, down, up, down, her chest kept rhythm, almost back to its normal pace now. Her chest. The word could have so many meanings. Her ribcage. The guts underneath her ribcage. Her heart, in an anatomical or poetic sense. Her 34 D boobs (obviously). Or even the sum of all these things. Tonight, her chest was moonlight. The bed was huge even though she usually slept alone. 'Why not?' she'd figured two months ago when she moved into her similarly oversized house. She could now afford all of this that she was the principal of Prattwood High School. "Hey babe." Chelsea was standing in the doorway, nude. She was moonlight too. The newest of the high school main office's four secretaries hadn't been hard to seduce. Sharma could spot a bitch with a lezzy streak a mile away, probably because the biggest streak belonged to her. "Hey. Got my tea?" Chelsea winked. "Tea for two." She glided over to the bed and sat the two cups on the mattress advertised as soft enough to keep a glass from spilling in a pillow fight. The cups sat in their new little indedentations like eggs in a carton. If Sharma and Chelsea resumed their cunnilingus session, they'd probably stay that way. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Whadya think you're doing?" said Sharma. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, back to Sharma, Chelsea pivoted her head and raised an eyebrow. "I'm not gonna spill em, babe. This mattress costs more than I make in a month. Its made for stuff like this. Its probably stain resistant anyw-" "You didn't ask," said Sharma. Chelsea sighed and got up. Her ass left two moon craters in the mattress. Sharma liked it. "May I pleeeeease get back into bed Sharma dear?" said Chelsea, hands on hips, nipples staring cutely. Sharma smiled. "No. Next time remember to ask. Politely. You may sit on the rug for now." Chelsea rolled her eyes, less out of genuine annoyance than to please Sharma. Her Indian boss and lover liked these games. She liked them too. The mat, just an ordinary fluffy mat to the eye, felt divine on Chelea's sitting bum. Sharma probably paid as much for it as she had the bed. Lucky bitch, thought Chelsea. "You're not mad at me, are you?" said Sharma. Chelsea turned her head, talking to Sharma's left calve muscle, brown and beautifully sculpted. "No, you're way too much fun, babe." She gave Sharma's leg a kiss. Mmm. Salty. "Good," said Sharma. "So you won't mind my asking what's with all this 'babe' stuff?" Chelsea smiled. "No, mistress." May I resume my duties mistress? May I lick your royal box mistress? May I get my tongue wet again mistress? May I- Chelsea was formulating her request when a spray of tea rained down on her straight black Filipino hair. From above- "Not enough sugar! By a long shot!" Chelsea darted up and grabbed both cups. "I'll make new batch right now!" Underneath her hurried exterior, bounding down the stairs, ass bouncing like it was in an eatrhquake she was sure, Chelsea was underneath it all completely content. As a child her parents had domineered her to no end, pushing tasks like this on her three or four times a day. There was a difference between them and Sharma though. First, Sharma never beat her. They set that mutual boundary early on and Sharma always respected it. A little biting during cunnilingus didn't count. Second, Chelsea was pretty sure she loved Sharma. Sharma, the supreme leader of Prattwood High, whose power alone made her giddy, let alone the great legs and sexily disproportionate looking breasts. Sharma, who helped her confront and conquer a chilhood in the Phillipines she'd buried for almost 20 years. A week ago they'd lain in Chelsea's bed, covered in the first sweat of the spring season, while Chelsea recounted how her dad had spanked naked her even when she was 18 and 19. Just as her tears had been about to drop recounting the story, Sharma had gingerly kissed her and floated down between her legs, giving her the single most satisfying eating out she'd ever had. "Out of sugar. Fuck." said Chelsea in the kitchen. Maybe Sharma won't be able to withold herself from spanking me yet, though Chelsea. She shuddered. Not in the kitchen. Not in the supply room. Where could sugar be? She opened a door she'd never tried before in her month long carnal relationship with Sharma. Behind it, stairs led down into darkness. The basement, of course! Sharma had to have some there. She was about to flick on the light when she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Hey babe," said Sharma. Her breath was hot on Chelsea's neck. "Yes mistress?" "Hey, I was thinking, why don't we just forget the tea and have some more fun together? I've even re-enstated your bed priveleges." Chelsea smiled. "I couldn't find any more sugar," she said. "Is it down here?" "No, nothing's down there. I haven't even been down there since I moved in." The walls of the stairwell downward were freshly painted. That obviously wasn't the case, Chelsea thought, but didn't say anything. "Maybe I should just check, maybe-" Chelsea felt a soft nudge at her bum. Maleable, plastic: Sharma was wearing a strapon. "Do you wanna get fucked in my bed or what?" Chelsea smiled. Do you like wearing inappropriately short skirts to school? Did you move to the US to fuck hot guys and girls? Has Sharma Amod made Indian pussy your new favorite meal? Sharma may as well have said. The answer to all of them was yes. They made love in the moonlight. Becoming Anita Smith, Book 2: Phil to Sharma Part 1: Sweetest Revenge Brian stared at the ceiling. It had been 6 hours since Sharma, the evilest principal on earth, had all but made certain Brian's expulsion from Prattwood High School. Over the course of 2 marriages and 2 cessarian section childbirths, there was a lot Anita Smith could deal with. Being blackmailed into cunnilungus wasn't one of them. 5 and half hours had passed since he and his best friend Ted had gotten home, inhabiting Brian's parents Anita and Brad Smith's bodies in what was supposed to be the best "not getting expelled" strategy in history. 4 hours since Brian stripped off his Anita body, her usually faint and managable emotions overwhelming him for the first time since he'd highjacked her body. 3 hours and 59 minutes since Ted had done the same and unzipped his Brad body. "It's stuffy in there," he'd said. 30 minutes since they'd lost their voices going back and forth, trying to come up with ideas. And now Brian was just staring at the ceiling, trying to do what he realized he'd been trying to do since he first heard Sharma had it in for him: to stop his head from spinning. "Just eat her pussy, man" Ted had said at the earliest stage of their planning session. "If you don't wanna go down on that bitch, dress me up like your mom and I will. I mean, yeah, it'll be weird eating out Ms. Amod and all, and she probably tastes like pure evil or something, but when you really think about it, a pussy's a pussy, man, and we could use the practice for when we're in college anyway." Anita Smith' dirty talk from earlier that day came drifting back into his head. He couldn't believe that same bonafide MILF was the same woman who now sat, tear soaked, in upright detal position in front of him. "Nah man," said Brian/Anita. "My mom's got a hard stop in her head about that. Every time I even THINK about it it's like she's slamming the back of my brain with a sledgehammer and spraying my eyes with pepper spray. I'm sure she'd do the same to you." Is there anything that would make Brad do that? wondered Ted from Brad's body. Letting somebody else fuck Ted's mom Velma and break up their love affair. Yeah, that would probably do it. "Well what're we supposed to do dude?" said Ted. "If you get expelled I'm not gonna get to see you that much any more. I'll have to start hanging out with Eddy." He thought about the pimpled short kid who had an oversized jersey of every player of every sport. Eddy was a cool enough guy for tv parties, but he wasn't cut out to be Ted's main man by a long shot. Brian frowned. "Not to mention the fact that I'll never inherit my dad's contracting biz!" Suddenly Ted beamed and slapped his hands against his chest. "DUDE! I'm your dad now! I'll just hire you!" Brian's pensive frown didn't even budge. "Nah man, think about it. You'd have to be my dad for the rest of life, or at least 10 years or something, and you probably don't wanna do that. And even if you DID, you couldn't teach me the ropes or, hell even work there yourself. You're great at video games man, but I know you can't even hammer a nail straight." Ted frowned. Brian was right. Some of Brad's knowledge, like the dirty things he said to Velma, was at Ted's disposal if he tried hard enough. Trying to lift 20 year's worth home remodeling knowledge out of Brad's brain was like trying to lift a 10,000 pound weight though. Back to the drawing board. - The full moon's brightness made it hard to sleep, but Brian almost made it to glorious unconciousness when he heard a weird noise out the window. It was a scraping noise, like an animal trying to dig a hole in really tough soil. Turned out Brian's guess wasn't far off. On any other night it would've been impossible to see, but in tonight's sea of moonlight he could just make out the form of Phil Jackson, their next door neighbor, in his back yard digging up the ground and planting. Phil was a night gardener. Who knew. Phil was a lot of things as of late. He'd wrestle his bike out of the house one day, have a whole armfull of library books to return the next. Brian knew Phil had been shellshocked when he'd lost his job 2 months ago, but he hadn't expected it to take this long for Phil to get back on his feet. It especially sucked because Phil was such a cool guy, at least for an old guy. Phil was- Brian's mouth and eyes widened into a joyous trio of O's. That was it! - Ted opened his eyes. It was morning and sunlight shown brightly in his eyes. How long had he been out for? As his eyes adjusted, he could feel the soft mattress on his back. It felt great. Wait, this wasn't right- he'd fallen asleep on Brian's floor. Ted eyes finally adjusted and he gazed around the room. His heart raced. He was in Evita's room. Not only that, he realized, catching sight of himself in the girly dresser mirror, peeping up from the bed: he was Evita. Her tan legs, arms, her sky blue polished toenails and fingernails, her pink pajamas. As he looked down at his body, they all greeted him. This was his worst nightmare, and Brian's too he was pretty sure. He had to get out. He tried to reach for the back of his neck to unzip himself from the body suit. Stay calm, he said to himself, this'll be just like switching back from being Brad. Only his arms wouldn't move. Neither would his legs. His head turned toward the mirror again, this time without him willing it to do so. Evita smiled back at him, at herself, at the whole situation. The real Evita. "Good morning beautiful!" said Evita. Ted saw Evita mouth it to her reflection and felt jiggle in her, vocal cords but he wasn't the one who had thought or said it. He was, apparently, now the world's most unwilling passenger. Evita's body was the car and somebody else's hands were on the wheel. Ted's head turned back to his Evita body, once again without him willing it do so. He could feel a smile on his lipglossed lips that wasn't really his. With all his might he tried to will just one of his arms to go to the back of his neck and unzip this unholy 18 year old girl suit he was trapped in. To his surpise it moved! Yes! he thought. I'm going to find Brian and we're gonna find out what's going on here! I'm gonna press the button between my legs, shed this weird ass suit and make a run for it! I'm gonna- Wait- button between his legs? Evita's hand was slowly sliding down her exposed belly and into her pajama shorts. False alarm. Evita was still in full control. And she was apparently horny. "Mmm, I love petting my kitty," Ted could hear himself whisper, low so as to not wake Evita's parents. With one hand wedged in his shorts and inside what he felt was his pussy, and the other glasping his breast, Evita started kneading her hands back and forth. Ted felt like his brain turned into chocolate and had started to melt. Putting Brad's dick in Velma's holes was one thing, but this was a whole different thing altogether: a slow, body- wide swell of of gentle flowing pleasure, like putting clothes on that just came out of the dryer. Only instead of cooling down, they kept getting hotter and hotter. Evita was close to coming. She started to gently smack her pussy to climax and kneaded her breast hard enough to turn it ripening apple red. There's no way her parents can't hear this, Ted thought in between electrical surges to his brain. Smack. Surge. Smack. Surge. Smack- Ted's first female orgasm was the single greatest moment of his life. It felt like a herd of gooey s'mores marshmallows had been resting warmly in his stomach, and in one wonderful burst had pushed themselves through Evita's guts and out her vagina. Evita had her eyes closed at the moment of climax, seeing a minagerie of orgasmic colors behind her eyelids, but Ted thought he actually felt something squirt out of her pussy. He and Evita were apparently on the same page; post-climax, she turned her head downward, inspecting, and sure enough, a little stream of cum ran from her pussy to the edge of the bed. Soggy sheets were the least of Evita's worries though- during orgasm, she'd let out a yelp that surely the whole house had heard. Ted's brain wrenched in horror. Evita, now sitting upright, just smiled and winked at herself in the dresser mirror. "You're a real piece of work, you know that girl?" Ted heard himself say to himself. Playtime was over: time to get dressed! Evita stretched her long tan arms, yawned, and sauntered over to her closet. There was only one thing inside, Ted was surprised to find: lingerie. Heaps and heaps of it. No summerwear, winterwear, or schoolwear. Just summer lingerie (a yellow see-through bra and panty set, the bottom of which hooked into Evita's belly button ring), winter lingerie (a blue bodystocking with an open crotch), and school lingerie (a red see-through with a plaid booty skirt and playful little necktie.) Today was Sunday. Evita needed church lingerie. Ted watched his tan skinny arms dig through the stack of smutty clothes and find exactly what he was looking for: his best set of lingerie. Once she had it put on after many painstaking twists and turns, Evita did a couple victorious 360s in front of the mirror. Between the mirror view and looking down at his 18 year old B cup cleavage, Evita's male visual passanger was dazzled. Evita's best lingerie was a frilly black thing that had waves and ruffles all around her neck. There wasn't a cutaway for cleavage, but the taut and largely transparent fabric left little to the imagination in her breast area. From her belly button down there was little else to the outfit but a thong whose quarter inch fabric swooped over her crotch and up her back. Brian could feel it cuddling against his pussy, and Evita's resultant excitement. Then Evita, never one to be outdone by the other girls in her sunday school class, accessorized the lingerie to impress. She tied tight a black corset, and pulled up a garter belt with fishnets. Once that was done, she slipped on her five inch heels, some transparent silk gloves that went almost to her shoulder, then topped it all off with black lipstick and a pair of cross earrings. Black lipstick was the finishing touch. Evita was just about to complement the dark vixen in the mirror when her mom called. "Eveeeta! Breakfast is ready." Evita looked at the clock. 9:30 already! Petting her kitty took longer today than usual- she had this strange sensation that someone was watching everything she was doing, like there was an invisible camera mounted on her shoulder. But THAT was impossible of course, so she didn't worry about it. A couple extra pets and her kitty had calmed down too. Clip-clop, clip-clop. Thonged ass wagging perkily, high heeled Evita exited her bedroom and made her way down the stairs. Around the time Ted had felt his lips involuntarily smacking and spreading around liquorice-tasting black lipstick, he had finally given into his role as a mere passenger in the strange spectacle. No matter how hard he concentrated, cursed to himself, or apologized to whatever grand power ruled the universe and this 18 year old vixen was all dressed up to pay respects to at 11 AM sharp, he had no control whatsoever. Had he had control of the stockinged legs that were clopping down the stairs, he would've panicked, certain he would trip and land in a tan and black heap at the bottom. Evita navigated the stairs gracefully though; he had to start giving Brian's bitch sister more credit now on. "Good morning momma!" said Evita, turning the corner into the kitchen. Ted felt his vocal chords jiggle like when he'd cooed during orgasm earlier. "Good morning baby doll!" Had it been able to, Ted's jaw would've dropped. Over the stove stood Anita Smith in nothing but red high heels, a thong, and some chili pepper-colored pasties. "Is that what you're wearing to church, momma? It seems a little..." Slutty? thought Ted. "..chilly!" Anita smiled her signature smile and her cheeks turned a little red to match her choice in clothing. "I guess I'm just ready for spring!" she said. "YOU look amazing though, young lady. You've really outdone yourself for church this time." Ted felt a litte smile spread on his face. "Thanks momma. Since you mention it though, I DO miss my spring outfits. Maybe I could lose these stockings, dress it down a little bit." "Not a chance, young lady!" said a voice from behind. Evita wheeled around 180 degrees like a figure skater on her left stilleto heel. Ted DEFINITELY had to start giving her more credit. In the doorway stood Brad, cool blue dress pants and blazer contrasting with his warm grin. "C'mere you!" "Daddy!" Ted heard himself say, before going into full high-heeled sprint. Brad met his daughter with a huge hug which, having not teased her hair into a delicate Sunday arrangement yet, she fully embraced. After a couple seconds of bear hugging, Evita looked into her dad's eyes. "Do you think I look nice for church, daddy?" she said, with the most subtle wiggle of her breasts possible. Brad smiled. "Have I ever said no, sweet cakes?" With that they kissed. It's not weird for a dad to kiss his daughter, thought Ted, feeling Brad's warm lips on his. With Evita's eyes closed, they felt like as big and comfy as two big sofa cushions, but for lips instead of butts. It's not weird for a dad to lock lips with his daughter for four seconds straight. It's not weird for a dad to put his tongue down his daughters throat. It's not weird for a dad to fondle his daughter's bare ass all throughout. It's not- "Alright, you too," said Anita smilingly behind them. "I have to interrupt the quality time together, but breakfast is ready!" Brad whipped around smiling, Ted's delicate female neck strainging as he looked up at him. "There's only one thing that tastes better than my daughter, and its pancakes." There were a couple ways that could be taken, Ted thought. Evita seemed all too aware as she giggled. "Don't you mean TWO things, dear?" she said, and gave her ass a wiggle, red thong back hiding in the cheeks. "Of course dear," said Brad, smiling and charmingly drawling as ever. "Me first, me first!" said Evita, breaking from her dad's graps toward the skillet of delicious smelling scrambled eggs. Ted heard Brad's foot stamp behind him and Evita whirled around. "Now dear aren't we forgetting something? Especially on a Sunday?" said Brad. Ted felt his face contract into a cute little pout. "Sorry daddy." Brad sauntered over to in front of the stove and put his left arm around his daughter, his right arm arm around his wife, and said grace. "Dear Father, thank you for this delicious food we are about to partake in. May we use the energy from it to serve you. Thank you for this wonderful spring day, and most of all thank you for the three things that I get up for every day dear Lord- my wife Anita, my son Brian, and my daughter Evita. May we have no barriers from each other, exercise complete honesty, and alwasy love each other in the purest form possible. If it's your will dear Lord, amen." Ted felt a smile on Evita's face, not from the eulogy, but from her dad's finger which had been drawing letters on her ass for the past minute. Ted couldn't tell what the letters had been, but Evita, from practice apparently, could, and Ted got the information second hand from her brain: S-W-E-E-T-L-I-P-S. Evita peered around the curve of Brad's back at her mom. Their eyes met and Anita gave her a little wink. Brad's right hand fully cupped her ass: no small feat. "Let's eat I'm hungry!" Ted felt himself squawk. Anita smiled. "Don't you worry young lady, we will, but before we do I want to explain why your brother won't be joining us for breakfast or church today. I know that little bowling ball prank at the pool yesterday was a bad, bad thing, so I've grounded him." Ted hoped the grin on his face wasn't as evil as it felt. "Thanks momma!" Anita frowned. "Now dear, you're not entirely without fault either. Brian says that he was retaliating for you not wanting to help with his algebra homework like you usually do. Now I realize what he did was COMPLETELY uncalled for, but, well, you know, a house divided amongst itself can't stand. And I've definitely felt a gap between you and Brian lately, and its not just usual little brother big sister stuff either." Ted felt his face scowl. Here it came: Evita was about to be punished too. "So your dad and I discussed it last night, and we've come up with this little solution: tonight, in exactly what you're wearing now, you and Brian are going on a date at Applebee's. You-" "But momma I don't have enough allowance for that!" Ted squawked. "I know dear," said Anita. She was obviously used to dealing with Evita. "Your father and I are going to give you kids two fresh twenties so you can splurge. I know you like Applebees' burgers dear, so just try to make the best of this and show your brother a good time. Now, when you get home, your father and I will be in bed, so I want you two to sit on the couch and, you know spend a little romantic time together." Anita gave her daughter a little wink. "Not AGAIN mommmmmm." said Ted. "Last time Brian told everyone at school I kiss like a frog!" "Now dear," said Anita, " I've given your brother a good talking to, and there will be none of that this time around. I think you'll find you'll be sharing the couch and your bed with a perfect little gentlemen." "BED?" said Ted. For once he and Evita were on the same page. "Yes you heard right dear: your brother will be sleeping your room tonight. If you want to just cuddle, that's fine. But if you want to do something a little more romantic...I think it might go a long toward toward mending you two's relationship." Evita groaned. What had she done to deserve this? "..And if Brian reports that you haven't been a perfectly hospitable lady with him, you're grounded for a week too young lady. Next week it'll be only Brian saying grace and eating your favorite eggs with us, and not you." Ted could feel in Evita's memories that this had happened once before. Her account was mostly correct: Brian had told everyone at school she kissed like a frog which to this day she lost suffered MAJOR social points for at the popular lunch table at school. What she wasn't letting on though was that she hadn't only kissed her brother: she'd given him his first blowjob. And she'd kinda liked it. "Oh okay momma," said Evita. "if you say so." "Alright, you two," Brad parroted, "I have to interrupt the quality time together, but breakfast is ready!" Looking at Brad in his Sunday suit, skillet in hand, swirling eggs around to cool them down to being edible, Ted finally felt like this finally looked kinda of like a normal family breakfast. Until Anita dropped to all fours. "Alright you two, I had mine earlier so pig out!" she said, knees splayed, one hand on the tile floor, the other grasping a steaming mug of chai tea. Brad split the eggs down the middle and spooned them out: one on Anita's left ass cheek, the other on the right. Ted felt himself casually stroll over and sit indian style at her right side. This was insane. "Wow momma, have you been working out?" said Evita. She playfully poked her mom's ass with her fork before she scooped a little section of the eggs off her mom's shapely ass and into her mouth. "No not really. I think ever since we started doing this last summer though its keeping me in great shape! I can really feel it in my glutes at the end, holding in one position like this." Anita casually took a sip of her chai tea whil her husband, now seated across from Evita, took his first bite of eggs off her ass. "Probably not today since Brian's in his room; the little guy takes forever to eat!" said Brad. Ted searched his memory. Evita was in Brian's seat actually: usually she ate out of the small in Anita's shoulder blades. From a the corner of Ted's eye, a little burn mark on Anita's left should blase that was almost sausage shaped seem to confirm this. "Brian might not his seat back!" Ted chirped involuntarily. Across from him Brad was licking the grease off of Anita's ass. Evita usually just napkinned it off: she had a girlish figure to keep. "Well, dear, at least you're usually closer to the drink fountain. Speaking of which: want any?" Evita grinned: this was the best part. Ted felt his hand reach over and begin expertly kneading Anita's left nipple. Milk squirted out, and Ted found his other hand waiting under it with a glass. Anita closed her eyes and moaned occasionally while Evita took three minutes to fill her glass. After Evita pulled her brimming glass away, Anita caught some spare milk drops in her chai tea and smilingly sipped it. Ted brought the glass to his black liquorice lips. It tasted heavenly, like warm, liquified silk. If things ever got back from totally topsy turvy to only moderately topsy turvy like they'd been earlier, he'd have to remind Brian to try sucking his own tits in the Anita suit. If Brian reported positive results, he might have to try it himself. "Dude!" said a voice behind Evita. She whirled around, and the frown rapidly forming on her milk moustached mouth couldn't have been more opposite of how Ted felt inside. It was Brian. "Dude its almost noon!" - Ted shook his head. The sultry kitchen scene faded away like an oil bubble splashed with water. Things were coming into focus now. Bright things. "Dude you sleep like a rock!" said a blur that gradually became Brian. The morning was still blurry but Ted could make out the glow of the window, half illuminating Brian, and the alarm clock's red letters: 11:42. 11:42?! He hadn't slept that long since after Henry's party when they'd gotten hammered! He guessed, even in the midst of all the chaos yesterday, they had downed their fair share of Coors Lights. The room even smelled like beer. When things came completely into focus, he wished they hadn't: he was in Evita's bed! He frantically looked down at his arms and legs and saw Brian raise a blurry eyerbow as he did so. Below him lazily rested Ted's arms, Ted's legs, Ted's chest. Whew, at least that was normal. "Ahhh fuck man!" said Ted, slurrily. "I had the weirdest dream! And...how the hell did I get here?" Brian laughed. "Don't be so freaked out man! I finally figured out how we're gonna solve this mess and I went to get you; before that you said you were going to smoke up to get the brain fluids going. When I found you you were asleep on the kitchen floor, bong right next to you. I could'nt let you sleep on the gross kitchen floor, and Evita FINALLY stopped barking and fell asleep, so I carried you to her room and put you in frankly the second best bed in the house, next to mine. You're welcome." "Ahh fuck man, why didn't you just put me in your bed then?" "No homo, dawg." Ted nodded. "True." It TECHNICALLY was Brian's mom who gave Ted the best head of his life yesterday, not Brian. Someone could probably debate him pretty well on that. Ted was glad there was nobody to debate with. "So where the hell is Evita?" Brian laughed. "Don't worry man- as of 5 minutes ago, downstairs using the litter box. Came up here to check on you and give her her privacy. I'm not a TOTAL asshole. It was true: Brian hadn't even taped Evita using the litter box to blackmail her later. Ted grimaced. "Well, I still don't like sleeping in Evita's girly ass room, no matter how comfortable it is. If you ever-" Ted's eyes widened. "Wait, did you say you figured out how we fix all this stuff?!" Brian smiled. - Phil was just about to go to bed at his usual time of noon when he heard a knock at his door. Ever since he'd lost his job as principal of Prattwood High, his life been topsy turvy. Every morning was a battle between turning 6 hours of latenight tv into a glorious 9, and his body's masochistic need for the nightmares sleep held. When the civil world slept, TV got weird. Phil's post-getting fired life was weird. In front of the glowing 3 AM boob tube was the only place Phil truly felt like he belonged anymore. He'd tried a meddley of hobbies during the day, some picked up new, some for the first time since his twenties- Jogging. Hiking. Biking. Anything that didn't draw too many stares to a pretty flabby 55 year old guy because, especially in his current ignominious situation as high profile ex-principal, Phil hated attention more than anything. People thought being high school principal meant being the face of the school. It did, maybe 5 unavoidable days out of the school year. The rest of the time you just delegated the public appearances away to the other office staff. Being principal was great, and he missed it more than anything. He also missed the side checks he'd been taking from parents to prioritize which intitiatives he undertook at the wealthy school. Oh yes, when the cable bill came due, he really missed those. He was probably still living off them, come to think of it. But he wasn't principal anymore. That fake righteous bitch Sharma Pramod was. When he'd finally gotten caught after 20 years, her shapely ass had been first in line to take his place, and with her sleek bod and wits, not to mention minority status, she'd taken his job as smoothly as pulling a candy cane out of a baby's fist and replacing it with a sweet little curry puff. That's what he'd started calling Sharma: The Curry Puff. After a bike ride one day, while trying to pick up a good lay at the lodge bar, which he was currently 0 for 26 at, he'd seen Curry Puff lounging around the hut, stretching her shapely calves and glutes, either warming up for or cooling down from a bike ride. It turned out Curry Puff was warming up- she whizzed past and almsot knocked him down as he walked out of the hut 45 minutes later, freshly dejected by a blonde 35 year old factory worker named Cindy. Phil decided jogging was cooler than biking that day. That was roughly a month ago. Phil gave up athletics altogether 3 days ago when The Curry Puff had passed him jogging and he'd had to stare at her bodacious ass getting smaller and smaller in the distance for a good 2 minutes. It was the purest, most primordial form of mockery he could think of. Especially coming from a Curry Puff. Better to stay at home from now on he decided. Cindy, the closest thing to a lay he'd gotten, had said she liked gardening. Phil would become a gardener. A sensitive poet type who gardened at night, wooed the simpleton ladies who worked at the factory, and were vastly overqualified to be the high school principal of neighboring Keithville high school, but would apply for it anyway and, when offered the job for their personal charm alone, would cooly accept it. It sounded like a great plan. Phil had a lot of great plans over the past 2 months. - "Boys what're you doing here?" said Phil in front of his ajar front door. "Shouldn't you be at school?" Brian and Ted smiled. Even though they knew Mr. Jackson had been fired for accepting bribes probably since Brian and Ted and been born, and he was at some level a totally racist bastard, Mr. Jackson was a generally cool guy for the day-to-day purposes of a pair of high school kids. He'd let them off easy on some killer pranks back in 9th grade. He was one of only two teachers who gave the boys "knucks" when he saw them in the hall, and the only one who didn't look a little weird doing it. Brian and Ted had even dropped by to see him a couple times after he'd gotten fired. Then Brian and Ted gotten smart phones. Phil wasn't cool enough of an old guy to have smart phone, and if you weren't on Brian's Contacts list, he generally forgot about you these days. Unless he was really desparate. "How's it going Mr. Jackon? Long time no see!" said Brian. "Yeah, our parents don't really care anymore so they called us in sick. How've you been?" Phil crossed his arms. "Now boys, you know you've gotta be in school. You-" He paused. He hadn't been to Prattwood High in so long, he could barely remember what it looked like. "Ahhh screw it, boys I'm glad you're living your lives. No- fuck it!" Brian and Ted grinned bigger than ever. "We knew you'd be a good choice dude!" said Ted. "Good choice for what?" said Phil. - Between sleepiness and disbelief, Phil had to literally smack himself twice as Brian and Ted recounted their tale. Body suits? Hijacked parents? Queen Bitch Sharma? Well, that last part he was happy to believe actually. Had he finally lost his mind in these two months of trying to dodge desparation? "Boys," said Phil after soaking it all in on the grungy couch that he and the boys now sat on, "I'd like to believe you, I really would, but number one, it feels like a pretty tall tale you're telling , and you boys have a reputation for telling tall tales. Number two, you really smell like weed Ted, sorry. And number three- why the hell are you telling me?" "Mr. Jackson you gotta belive us!" said Brian. "If you don't, my life is ruined! If you don't I-" Phil shook his head. His 20 years of being principal allowed him to smell a fib a mile away. He didn't really know what the end game of this prank on an old man was, and he really didn't want to know. "I'm sorry boys, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I-" Phil stopped. They all stopped. In the back of the house, something was slapping dirt against the side of the house. It sounded big. - Peering at his backyard, visoring his eyes with the hand that wasn't holding the door, Phil didn't know what shocked him more- what was frolicking in his back yard, or how unsurprised Brian and Ted were at it. In fact, they were laughing. Circling Phil's back yard, apparently done throwing dirt at the house to get their attention, was Evita, a freshman when he'd left the school. She'd always been one of the fashionistas. Now she was butt naked and covered in dirt with a stupid smile and sheet of drool under her mouth. Phil remembered from Brian and Ted's story they said they'd supplanted her brain with that of a dog. She looked more like a monkey to him though- he was no bio teacher, but it looked like she'd clearly developed some control over her hind legs, kind of lunging around on her knuckles and occasionally coming close to walking. "Hay!" she spat. "Woof, woof, hay mifter Jakfun!" Evita was an extremely dumbed down, extremely shameless, but apparently extremely happy caricature of the prep princess Phil had formerly known. Really thinking hard and remembering her nonstop aloofness, save around a couple leather-wearing boys, Phil actually thought it was an improvement for Evita. He took the boys' cackling as agreement. - "Alright boys, I believe you." Said Phil. He tried to look at them but his gaze kept drifting to naked Evita and the dirt that flecked off her body onto his clean carpet. "Mifter Jakfun's howff!" she gurgled dreamily, but she didn't move from her Indian-style sitting position at the foot of the couch. Brian taught her how to sit that morning, he informed them. It had been easy: Hershel was a good dog and apparently some of her tricks and good behavior had been carried over to Evita. Apparently they just needed a little coaxing to be brought back out. If only all kids had been that well behaved when I was principal, Phil thought. "So boys, I'm gonna go back to original question- what do I have to do with any of this? Did you just need to get it off your chests? My guess is no." Brian smiled. It was awesome to be having such an adult style conversation, just like in the movies. And he had the perfect next line! "Mr. Jackon, what if I told you we could help you get your job back AND get back at Sharma once and for all?" - Phil scratched his 4 days stubbled chin. It was an interesting proposition Brian had. Ted had just looked on wide eyed as Brian had explained. Brian seemed to be the real brains of the operation, and was obviously a bit full of himself because of it. Phil didn't dare let on, but he felt about the way Ted looked as Brian laid out his plan. Thinking through it a third time, Phil couldn't see a hole in the plan. It was the end the result that was, not the PROBLEM, per se, in fact it would solve every problem Phil had been pouting about over the past 2 months. The end result was just a bit hard swallow. That was the beauty of it; they'd never get caught. Nobody would believe them. That was the crux.; Phil's life would be completely rearranged. But so would Sharma's. The dreaded Curry Puff. Revenge never ended well, Phil knew. He also knew however that it was very sweet, and he'd been without sweetness in his life for some time now. He started to walk back from the kitchen toward the living room, toward Evita's yapping. He had an answer for the boys. - "Boys, I think I've-" "Yarf!" said Evita. "Shut the fuck the up Evita!" said Ted. "I think I've made my decision." The boys huddled in, their eyes wide with anticipation. "I've been trying not to let on, but I think you all can tell, I don't have a lot going for me as of late. Being principal was my life, and without it, I'm as good as gone. Phil Jackson really hasn't existed for the past 2 months and the world NEEDS Phil Jackson because-" The boys' eyes were white balloons about to burst now. "-Because Phil Jackson is a badass motherfucker!" The boys cheered. "Damn straight!" said Ted. Phil grinned genuinely for the first time in what felt to his cheeks like an eternity. "So what do we gotta do boys? How do we get the ball rolling for me to get my job back?" This was perfect, Phil thought. For the past 2 months, he had been marked with a scarlet letter in the academic world, all 16 applications he'd submitted for various teaching jobs rejected upon sight, he was sure. Sometimes the only way to get rid of a scarlet letter was to shed your skin. "We got it all under control," said Brian. He quickly checked his iPhone for time and muttered a quick "shit" before bolting out the door. Ted quickly followed, but not before quickly saying: "Dude, could you take care of Evita while we're gone?" - Brian strolled through the house in his mom's body for the first time that day. He could feel the wooden floor in the upstairs hall sink in a little more under his bare feet, probably from the extra fat around his thighs and the three inches height his mom had on him. Mostly the thighs; Brian's mom had a killer ass. He could also feel her female consciousness dimly in the back of his brain: not words or thoughts, just a general cool, soft feeling, like an AC unit turned on in the back of his head. As he turned over the plan in his head again, it went from sounding great to sounding super great. Brian was walking around the house naked. Both Ted and Brad, who were now inhabiting the same physical space, currently taking a piss in the downstairs bathroom, had seem Anita nude, so he didn't see the point in clothes for the time being. It had been almost a full day since Brian had stepped behind the wheel of Anita's body, so he needed some time to readjust, no distractions like his mom's instant-wedgie underwear or scratchy bra straps, made all the more potent by his soft female skin. He needed 10 minutes to just feel, take it all in. Feel his mom's hair fanning out behind him as walked, and drift back to his face when he stopped. Feel his small, neatly manicured hand rise and cutely brush the hair away from his face in a gesture so smooth he wasn't sure it was his. Feel his hand drift back to his side, but not before accidentally grazing his right nipple and sending a small rush to his brain's pleasure center. Brian walked different as Anita Smith, he noticed in the hall mirror. He'd have thought upon becoming her he'd need to learn to move like her. Not the case at all: her thighs were her center of gravity, and they demanded slower movement and a cute sway when maneuvering about. Likewise the weight of her D cup breasts demanded a cutely straight, astute posture when moving about. Otherwise they might pull you to the ground. Brian was in the doorway of Anita's bedroom. His bedroom, he was surprised to finding himself thinking, before correcting himself quickly. Yesterday he'd dressed to impress. Today he needed to explore the athletic side of Anita, two time Prattwood hand ball champion. - Ted was tapping his toe in the living room. Between Brad's cowboy boots and big feet it was much louder than usual. Did women always take so long to get dressed? Brian was taking even longer than yesterday. Ted shuddered: was Brian becoming even more of a woman? Trying to brush the thought out of his mind, Ted turned his thoughts to his mom. He wondered what she was doing today, whether she'd skipped over to Brian's empty house at 11 AM to see if Ted was around for their daily rendez vu. He doubted she had; Brad and Velma were very good at keeping secrets apparently. Still, had she wondered why Brad hadn't scooted over to her place for a little afternoon delight? Had she wondered why her son hadn't come home from his sleepover and secretly kissed her tits while she hugged him at the bus stop that morning? The school probably hadn't called her- Anita had called them in sick for a couple days yesterday, just to safe. Most importantly: what was Velma wearing right now? Hopefully it was something like what Anita Smith now wore standing in the stairway- gray yoga pants, striped ankle socks, a sky blue tank top with a generous amount of cleavage, and a pink jogging blazer for tucking the visible 40% of her knockers away from intruders, be it the crisp wind when jogging or prying eyes on the other side of the treadmill. "Ready to go?" she said. For a second, Ted really believed it was her. Except for the blue toy-looking bazooka slung over her shoulder. That was very out of place. - All his life Ted had complained about grownups having to drive him everywhere, but now that he was the 45 year old, totally independent Brad Smith, he missed his mom being his personal chauffeur. Mostly it was Brad's truck: it was a pain in the ass to steer. If he had a Mustang like Kyle Yeltsin, the tight end of the Prattwood football team...yeaaaaah, he'd be more than happy to be the driver of the Smith household. "Dude when we come back, can we pick up some beer?" said Ted in Brad's drawl. He peeked over at Brian. Brian's chin was resting against his throat, his eyes straight downward. "Dude, are you okay?" "Just looking at my boobs," said Brian. - Suzy Reynolds was almost in tears. First she'd probably failed her calc test. Then she'd gotten called to the principal's office to, what else, talk about her grades. Then she'd gotten a stomachache. And now here she was, arm draped over Sharma Amod's shoulder, making her way toward the principal's SUV to drive to Suzy's parents house. At least nobody is around, she thought, seeing the vacant 2 PM parking lot stretched out in front of her. Junior prom queens didn't limp ungracefully through the parking lot with up tight high school principals, at least if they wanted to keep their social status in check. Like TOTALLY uncool, she thought. Everybody thought Suzy was ditzy with her valley girl accent, but she was actually very smart. Her mom and dad were both scientists. She took all the hard classes at school- advanced english, advanced history, advanced math. They'd all been easy too, up until calc. She guessed she understood why Ms. Amod had been concerned with her grades- calc had weighted her down from an overall A to a B last semester. Still, it seemed a little odd Ms. Amod calling her in like she had. As she limped through the parking lot, almost halfway now, something quick-witted beneath Suzy's valley girl personality, the same thing that helped her write A+ essays in advanced english, wanted to tell her something. It seemed urgent, but, with her stomach pounding with pain, it wasn't quite coming through. "Almost there, sweety," said Ms. Amod. "Like, thanks Ms. Amod," said Suzy. - Sharma was sure she and Suzy must look like some strange four legged creature that had learned how to walk 5 minutes ago plodding through the Prattwood High parking lot. The junior prom queen's dainty, delicate frame was a lot heavier than it looked. They were almost to the car, and Sharma was pretty sure nobody had seen them yet. In India, this never would have worked. There was a crowd everywhere you went, even outside your window when you slept. Chicago, even more so, though her 18th story apartment had given her maybe the only privacy she'd known up to that point in her life. Prattwood was all fields and open spaces. You could run around waving your arms and screaming and more likely than not nobody would be around to spot you. Or you could abduct a high school junior prom queen. Sharma guessed she had maybe two minutes before the chemical she'd slipped in Suzy's water would knock her unconscious. That would be more than enough to lay her down in the back in Sharma's SUV, down beneath the windows, away from any casual glances into Sharma's vehicle. Then Suzy would be unconscious for 24 hours and things would be easy. Sharma would go back to work for another hour, then, when the bell rang, casually stroll out of the building and drive the sleeping beauty to her new home. "Ms. Amod, like, I think this might be serious or something." said Suzy. Her face was Easter egg green. "It'll be ok, dear," said Sharma. She was looking forward to hearing that ditzy voice much more often from now on. - Sharma was at her SUV reaching for keys when she felt something whiz past her head. "What the fuck?!" she said, head pivoting back and forth. Suzy, slumped over her right arm, was pretty much out of it now. For a couple seconds Sharma thought it must have been a weird bird; one had crashed through the living room window of her new house the second week after move-in. Then she saw the dent in her SUV, and the steam streaming upwards out of it. What the fuck?!?! Looking quickly in the direction opposite of the dent, she could see someone crouched maybe 50 feet away in the evergreen bushes, holding what looked like a rather large toy gun. It was Anita Smith, brown-blonde mane blowing in the wind. A second later, a cylindrical beam shot from the barrel of her gun, almost transparent, but slightly distorting things on the other side of it, like a dirty window. Sharma had just enough time to tug Suzy in front her. What happened next she couldn't believe: Absorbing the beam, Suzy's body started to flatten in her outstretched fist, like a balloon releasing air. After 5 seconds, Sharma found she was clutching an unoccupied sleeping bag, cut in the shape of Suzy and illustrated with Suzy's likeness. Sharma wanted to scream but knew there wasn't time. Throwing deflated Suzy to the ground, she started to run. If there was one thing Sharma did well it was run. Yoga kept the mind strong, but running kept the body in tip top shape. One of the few fond memories she had of India was her thirteen year old self sprinting down the sidewalk, street food smells strong in the air, sun setting the background, air finally cool enough to come outside and push her body to its limit, which in those days was 3 or 4 miles. Now Sharma could run a full 12 miles, and even after that she could keep speed walking for another 12. Every time Sharma ran, she was a truly bullet fresh from the chamber. The only problem with bullets: they only go straight. The toe of Sharma's left brown flat had just kissed the grass beyond the parking lot when the third beam hit her squarely in the back. She could feel it: warmness radiating out from her spine, all the way out into her fingertips. It actually felt divine and atually yoga-like, until her vantage point started to drop. First she was looking at the top of the hill, where she had hoped to run up, over and away from vengeful Mrs. Smith. Then she was looking she was looking at the middle of the hill, a canvas of green. Then she was looking at the tops of an army of huge grass blades. Am I turning into an ant? she thought. Then nothing. - Cave Girl Evita was quite the young lady, Phil was finding. It all started when, trying to jump on him like a sexy, slightly smelly puppy, she'd knocked his Tom Collins out his hand and onto the carpet, already fetid with Evita dirt. "Dammit Evita, could you stop that shit?" "Yessir!" said Evita. Her face, he noticed, wasn't in a dumb smile for the first time that day. 10 minutes and a freshly downed Tom Collins later, Phil was surprised to find Evita had stopped frolicking. She sat obediently at the foot of the couch, literally shivering with the need to run around, but holding it all in admirably. "Evita, get me the Jack Daniels." Slowly, Evita crawled on all fours from the the living room to the cool tile of the kitchen. She jumped onto her hind legs, searched liquor cabinet for a good 10 seconds, clutched the half-filled Jack in her fist, dropped back to all fours, then scooted back into the living room. Phil could here the Jack bottle dragging against the carpet as she approached. Then she was in front of him: puppy eyes staring up, tongue out, smile cranked to 10, Jack in one curled hand against her breast, her other hand right beside it. "Pour me a drink." With surprising dexterity Evita uncapped the bottle, filled his glass, recapped up, and curled it back into her puppy stance. "Not bad," said Phil, taking his first sip. This proved two things: First Evita could understand human things like Jack Daniels. That part of her brain hadn't been puppified, or at least had become unpuppified at some point. Second: Evita, so far, would do anything he told her. "Evita, stand up." "Yessir! Yap!" With a jolt that shook the room Evita sprung up. Her hands were still balled in puppy-position underneath her chin, Jack Daniels in clutch. "Evita, hands at your side." Evita lowered her hands to her sides. At this point, Phil was wearing a grin of his own. "Evita, if you know what human things like Jack Daniels are and you can walk upright, why are you running around like a puppy girl?" Evita chuckled. A gob of drool plopped to the carpet. "Ah dunnnoo." said Evita. "It's jus....it's jus..fun!!!" Phil nodded. Time to really test the world's first puppy girl. "Evita, do you have to talk like that, or could you talk normal like me if you wanted?" After a long pause: "Yesh, I could talk lak yoo!!" "Could you talk like me yesterday?" Evita shook her head, sprinkling drool around. "Nahh, I wush a doggy then!! A cute lil doggy!!!" "Why are you talking the way you talk now?" Evita grinned. "Cuz its wut im comfortable with! Haw wud YOU feel bein a doggy doggy al yor laf? Phil laughed. He'd just gotten burned by the puppy girl. "Evita, try talking and acting like a normal girl, like you used to be. You might like it." With that Evita became a statue. Her energy jitters stopped. Her drool stopped. Her smile faded to a totally blank expression. "Evita?" Still staring straight ahead: "Yes, Mr Jackson?" "Evita, is that you?" It was a deep question, and Evita paused maybe four seconds before answering. "I don't know. My is Hershel. My masters started calling me Evita yesterday so I've just been going along with it." "What do you think about your masters, Evita?" Evita smiled faintly. "They're nice. They feed me. They play with me. It's always nice and warm downstairs near my food and my litter box. Sometimes they're a little loud, but ever since yesterday I can't hear as acutely, so I guess I won't have to deal with that any more." "Do you remember being an 18 year old girl named Evita Smith at all?" "No. No, I've always been Hershel." "How did you know what Jack Daniels is if you only know about doggy things then? How can you stand upright? Hell, how can we be talking right now?" Evita flinched a little bit. "I don't know. It's like digging holes or chasing cats; I feel like I've always known these things. I don't really know where they come from." Phil sat back contently. He felt like he had a pretty good idea about what was going on with Evita at this point, and it was more fascinating than he ever would have expected. "Do you like talking with me Evita?" "No," said Evita. "Why not? Am I mean guy?" Evita smiled a little. "No. you're fine. Even though I know how to stand and talk, it feels very unnatural for me. It takes a lot of energy to be able concentrate to do all these things. I really just want to flop down on the floor, and pant, and wait for my masters to feed me and play with me. I can't think of anything more wonderful than that." Phil smiled. "Well, Evita, as you can see by the dirty carpet, it's tough to let you do those doggy things in your current body. What if...what if I could find a way we could compromise? Keep the house nice and clean and let you not be any more human than you have to be?" Evita smiled big, a bit of her previous cave girl dumbness shining through. "I'd love that." "Stay there then for a second Evita, I'll be right back." Phil plodded quickly to his bedroom and opened a drawer he hadn't opened in years maybe: the bottom dresser drawer. It was a container for old, forgotten things, most of them meant to be forgotten. Some were dumb stuff: A broken pair of $125 swim goggles he'd just couldn't throw in the trash. Every 2 dollar bill he'd ever found in a golden clip. Three airport-purchased snow globes that proudly advertised the emblems of Kentucky, New Mexico, and Arizona. Other stuff was more emotional: A pic of him and an old girlfriend at the Grand Canyon. A love letter, never sent. A sexy maid costume a girlfriend had bought as a gag and, unfortunately, never worn. Phil grabbed the maid costume and tried not to run back to the living room. Evita was still there, standing like a statue. "Evita, put this on," said Phil, offering the balled up uniform. Phil finished his glass of Jack Daniels and watched while Evita dressed herself. The maid costume was 6 pieces that required some separating after being balled together over the past years Phil had lost count of. It was composed of two lace wrist cuffs, a lace and black maid cap, a lace collar, a lacey corset that ended just below the belly button and was completely vacant where the bra cups should have been, and a see- through skirt, with a lace strip up the front and back. They all looked stunning on Evita. Especially her B-cup breasts peaking perkily out of corset openings. "Evita. do you know what you're dressed as?" said Ted as she completed her third modeling spin at his request. "I'm a maid. I don't know know how I know that, but I do." she said. Ted smiled. "Evita, you're now the human version of a puppy. It might be a little more complicated than your doggy days, but not by much. Your masters will give you a warm place to sleep and feed you. In return, they'll ask you to do things occasionally, which you'll feel no less satisfaction about than chasing a ball or stick I suspect. It might be cleaning a floor, or polishing a window, but the principle is the same: they hand you the Windex bottle, you bring it back after you've done what you need to do with it, they love you forever, just for doing what they tell you to." It was a pretty deep monologue Phil had just given so he wasn't sure Evita understood all of it, but what she had understood apparently pleased her. Her tongue dangled again at the side of her now beamingly smiling mouth. Her exposed tits wagged with her body like her tail might have in her old puppy life. "Evita, would you be so kind as to clean my carpet?" It was all Evita could do to walk lady-like to the cabinet under the sink. She wanted to sprint four-legged. - It was raining when Brian and Ted trudged down Phil's sidewalk. Their makeshift umbrellas weren't doing the best job. "It isn't fair!" said Brian. "You've got my dad and mom to cover you! Suzy and Sharma aren't catching rain for shit!" "At least you've got 2 hands free!" said Ted. His right hand held high the deflated skins of Brad and Anita. His left hand clutched a 24 pack of Coors. Behind them steam rolled off the hoods of the truck and SUV they'd arrived in. Phil's house didn't have an awning so they were getting soaked standing at the door. "Hey Mr. Jackson, it's us," yelled Ted. "Hey its pouring out here so let us in fast ok? Let-" The door swung open. In the warm interior Phil was watching something on TV, slouched and looking rather wasted. Evita was holding the door. She was squeeky clean now and completely upright, her yellow rubber cleaning gloves her most conservative clothing item by a long shot, her exposed tits circularly framed by lace mere inches from Ted's face. "Welcome home, masters." - "I can't believe it Phil, how'd you do it?" said Brian. "It took me a full hour this morning just to get her to sit!" Phil smiled. "I think my timing was just better, boys. Evita's growing out of her puppy stage, into what I'm not sure. She sure is agreeable for the time being though." Maid Evita sat beside the couch where the three were talking, awaiting her next command, motionless but for the up and down of her chest as she panted quietly to herself and the occasional wag of her publicly- hanging tongue. "Do you think tomorrow she'll be a total bitch again?" said Brian. "I mean, you know, an 18 year old stuck up human bitch?" "If had to guess, Brian, your new sister might be the best thing that ever happened to you," said Phil. "If you ever tired of her, you know where to send her." "Yeah," said Ted, "To Sharma's house." Phil smiled sadly. He'd seen Sharma's shocked likeness on one of the bags the boys had dropped at the front door. It was almost time. - "So who's the other girl?" said Phil, standing over the soggy pile of blankets in the front doorway. "I dunno," said Ted. "She was pretty hot though." "Her name's Suzy something," said Brian. "She was in my science group once. She seemed like a bimbo but she was a lot smarter than people gave her credit for." "Obviously she was smart enough not to get with you," said Ted, resulting in a sharp jab from Brian. "Well, bimbo or not, we're going to have to figure out what to do with her," said Phil. "People are going to notice if she goes missing. They're probably looking for her right now." "We'll figure that out tonight," said Brian. "You just figure out how people aren't going to go looking for a missing Ms. Amod." Phil nodded. 6 months ago, all dressed up behind his principal desk, if you'd ask him to follow one of Brian and Ted's plans he would have laughed and told you to get the fuck out of his office, in a politically correct manner of course. This plan was looking pretty good though. It had gone more than smoothly so far. There she was, in deflated pile in front of him: the Curry Puff. "Boys, I've gotta say, job well done. Sharma is one crafty, maniacal gal and she was no match for you guys. You-" Phil looked up from the soggy pile of suits. Suddenly, the boys were nowhere to be found. Phil turned his head. Brian and Ted were to either side of Evita, staring inquisitively into her blissfully vacant expression. "Dude," said Ted, wrestling his eyes away from Evita's cheek toward Phil. "I think we just thought of a science experiment you're going to like." - Two days ago, Evita would've run out of the room screaming at the suggestion she clean out a soggy sleeping bag with her high school principal's likeness on it, then put it on. Now she did both with a smile on her face. Whatever the guys wanted. Life was one big game of fetch now, and wherever they threw the stick, she would go. Even into the body of Sharma Amod. It took longer for the Sharma suit to stretch tight and become a convincing, life-like Sharma; whether it was from the water or the fact that it was being worn by someone already in a suit they couldn't sure. Nothing short circuited though: ten seconds after the magic zipper was set in place at the back base of the neck, Sharma Amod stood in front of them, blank expression actually somewhat creepy on the always animate woman. "Sharma?" said Ted. Sharma didn't say anything. "Evita?" said Brian. "Yes sir?" said Sharma, her eyes teetering adoringly in Brian's direction. Phil's mouth was wide open. "I can't believe it. A dog inside an 18 year old girl, inside the high school principal. And there she is, standing and talking like a normal person." Phil reached for one of the Coors the boys had brought home and popped it open. He was going to need a couple of these. - Brian, Ted, and Phil were watching the A-Team. Phil had wrestled the remote from Brian 5 minutes ago; MTV Cribs was as dumb as shit. "I know you don't like MTV apparently," said Brian, "but do we really have to watch this old man stuff?" "I'm going to give you boys a taste of the classics." said Phil. Brian sighed. Sharma's lips and tongue had just made in cum twice. He wasn't going to complain about anything too much right now. Ted was breathing heavily beside him. Sharma was working her magic on him now, the green blanket draped across the waists of the 3 pantsless guys bobbing up and down frantically, its epicenter Ted's crotch. Brian wondered if Ted was thinking the same thing he had thought as Sharma licked his knob expertly: How many times have I lay in bed with the sheet bobbing up and down and it was my hand underneath? How cool is it that under there, right now, the bitch who was going to expel me yesterday is now sucking my dick like it's the only thing in the world that matters to her? Actually, Ted was thinking that of the 3 women who'd sucked his cock in the past 48 hours, his mom was still the best. Sharma could do this swirly thing with her tongue though that sent him up the wall. The fifth time she did it, he came in her right eye and the cum gob rolled down her cheek and ont