Prema The Maid Who Came Back To Be Banged
- 3 years ago
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Pre-Maid Cabin free porn video
Pre-Maid Cabin
By Skirtninja
---------
This is my first erotic fiction.. but I have been reading fictionamnia
and cyoc for ever!
I hope people like it.. I posted an outline for followup chapters on my
deviantart page, but I consider this short story to be self contained and
"complete".
Thank you all for so many years of great content!
---------
The three of us went up to Kevin's cabin for winter break, it was up in
the Appalachians and pretty secluded in sparse woods. We went through a
hand operated gates and through ford's in the dry creek bed.
The cabin used to be a hunting lodge but now it was mostly used for
parties and weekend escapes. It was possible we'd get some visitors but
Kevin said it'd probably be empty the whole time. I think Marshall was
hoping one of Kevin 's cute cousins would show up. He'd been Facebook
messaging her for a year since he saw her at a family reunion, despite
Kevin telling him to stop. He'd stopped talking about it but I'm pretty
sure the messages continued.
I am Peter, a high school senior and captain of the school's chess club.
Marshall occasionally could be a total nerd, and we'd geek out about some
movie or gadget, but Kevin didn't care at all. He was all about
motorcycles and smoking.
---
The three of us got to the cabin. Kevin let us in and went in back to get
some cleaning supplies while Marshall and I brought in clothes and
groceries from the car. The house didn't stink, but it was pretty dusty.
After a couple loads, Kevin came back in the kitchen foyer and handed us
each a couple beers.
"Alright, I'm going to go in the woods and cut some firewood for tonight.
You two should clean up and unpack," Kevin instructed as he bundled
himself up and went out in the cold. Neither of us complained because,
free beers hadn't been part of the deal, hell yeah.
Marshall and I twisted open our beers and I followed him into the master
bedroom. He went straight to guzzling it down while I just sipped.
"So you want to do the cleaning and I'll unpack?" I asked. Marshall
mumbled something to the affirmative in the middle of finishing off his
beer. Kevin had dropped the cleaning supplies on a coffee table in front
of the fireplace. It looked like it had all come out of some kind of
bundle package, there was a feather duster, a few washrags, bundles of
cleaning solution and instruction pamphlets.
Marshall grabbed the duster and started mopping up the dust. I went to
the other room and grabbed the household luggage and brought it I to the
bedroom. Pulling off the sofa cover left it looking pretty clean, so I
started sorting out the luggage there, pulling out the clothes and
linens. I turned around, folding up a bathrobe, when I noticed that
something was going wrong.
---
Along the fringes of Marshall's shirt and pants there was a band of white
lace. I could see it along the edges of his shirt at the bottom and the
wrists, then while I watched it popped into existence at the bottom of
each pant leg. He seemed to be a lot more graceful, too. Gliding about
instead of clomping from place to place like I'd expect.
He was always a little small and wiry. You wouldn't know it, but he was a
runner. A sprinter in track. He competed in the 50 meter dash on the
school team, but I'd never seen him take Dance. And that's what it seemed
like he was doing, humming about. His blonde hair grew while I watched,
stretching below his ears then curling inward to make a bowl around his
neck. That's when I decided I needed to say something.
"Uh Marshall, you feeling weird?"
"Hm? No, just relaxed. I'm relieved to finally get here. We don't have
anything to worry about now."
"It's just that, something weird is happening."
"Like what?" Marshall asked, looking around the room. He grimaced, ending
on me. "All I see is you not doing your share of the work."
I quickly started stacking and refolding the clothes from the travel.
Marshall just went back to humming and cleaning, until his movements
changed dramatically.
"Come on, Marshall." I stopped again. "Are you doing this? You're not
even moving your arms anymore, you're just doing dainty little circles
with your wrists."
He stopped and pouted at me, he even put his hands on his hips! I could
see when he did that that he'd actually had white fingernail polish on
now.
"If you're going-" Marshall's voice actually cracked. "To keep slacking
you can forget about me doing laundry!"
"Look, man. Look at your fingers! You're wearing nail polish! And lace!"
Marshall looked at his fingers, flipping his hands front to back. He
scrunched up his face in a pout.
"No I'm not."
"You totally are!"
"Alright! I've had it," Marshall snapped back. "Get out of here and let
me clean. Go out to the car and bring in the rest of the luggage."
I made an exasperated noise and went out to the car. I couldn't see Kevin
anywhere, or hear him chopping wood. He was probably searching for
kindling anyway... though I couldn't see the problem. There were fallen
trees all over the place. I dragged my feet over to the car and started
bringing in all the other supplies.
---
We had packed quite a bit. While the cabin was stocked with appliances
and furniture, they didn't leave much here in the way of perishables, and
we were so off the road that there wasn't any connection beyond electric
and an ancient phone line. It was enough power to run the dishwasher and
the dryer, just not both at the same time. The phone line was a staticy,
disconnected thing that couldn't hold a dialup signal, much less DSL. So
we were pretty cut up. There was a natural gas tank out front, it could
keep the house warm enough, just not comfortable during a hard freeze.
So we'd packed the car with food, supplies, tools, everything we'd need
to last a month in the woods. There wasn't any plow for the roads (I call
it that but it was better described as a three mile long dirt driveway),
so there was a real chance we'd get snowed in and have to hitchhike to
the closet town.
Every time I brought something in Marshall had changed a little. First
his clothes turned dull colors. He'd been wearing a yellow and black Rams
t-shirt with a pair of blue jeans, and when I came in the first time that
had changed to a plain yellow shirt. The next time the material had
changed to a sweatshirt and sweatpants.
His hair kept growing out too. He was already a blonde but I never saw it
so straight. He wouldn't look me in the face, I could see his eyes
watching me in the window glass.
The next load, and the sweatpants material had turned to a dull grey.
When that changed to dress clothes I was surprised to see his ass looked
like it had doubled in size and he was packing some sweater puppies too.
He looked at me out of the corner of my eyes, not enough to see the
damage but enough to see that his face was completely different, with
long black eyelashes and rosy cheeks.
---
I made sure to grab his personal bag next. Marshall was fucking cursed,
and I was going to make him see it. I brought it in, and he was giving me
the silent treatment again. His dress pants and shirt had changed into a
white, shin-length skirt and short sleeved blouse. I could see his
muscles were completely gone, and while he was always thin he was wiry.
Not anymore.
I looked away, rummaging through his bag. No doubt making quite a noise
but Marshall refused to look at me. I found what I needed and looked up,
and not a moment too soon.
That long skirt had puffed out into pair of knee-length bloomers, and his
shoes had went from rugged leather hiking boots to sleek little black
flats with a leather strap across the top. He must've went from size 13
to size 9 in a matter of seconds. It was accelerating as I looked up to
his body. That blouse hadn't changed, but his hair had, billowing out as
it regained its former curls. Her face was completely obscured but this
was enough. I clicked the button on the old camera and it whined loudly
as the film fed through the machinery.
Marshall swung around, furious. "Peter! Do you have any idea how much
that film costs?!?"
---
Marshall was screaming at the top of his lungs while the photo developed.
He'd taken back the camera, and I was happy to see my friend was still
physically the same. It was still his face, though it had been caked in
makeup and covered in lace. That all changed when he saw the photo and
collapsed on the bed.
It was like his whole body shrunk in on itself. A leather choker appeared
around his neck and slid tight as he must've lost a foot of height in one
go. His arms turned slender and skinny, his thighs fattened out to match
his heavy butt, and fake flower bands sprouted in his hair. But what
really worried me was his face. It just... squeezed in on itself, leaving
the heights and exaggerating the depths. It was round with high cheeks
and a pronounced nose, the forward brow standing strong... if it wasn't
clear his eyebrows were now painted on and starting to smell like sweet
perfume.
But even though the picture was already out of date, at least it broke
him free from the illusion. He could see the ghostly form covered in
lace, motion blurred across the Polaroid, with his ghostly face buried
behind a layer of girly accoutrements.
The changes continued as he looked. His shoes sprouting heels and
continuing to shrink. I could see him scratching his leg when the tights
pulled up to his knees. He looked up at me, helpless in his femininity
and his voice broke one final time.
"Peter what is happening to me?"
---
"I don't know Marshall.. God, you think it was the drinks?"
We looked at both the labels and it was nothing special.. just generic
American crap.
"Maybe it had something to do with the cleaning supplies." So we went
over to the coffee table while his skirt puffed out like there was a
pillow underneath it. From the way it moved when he swatted at it there
definitely was. At least he was aware of the changes, now.
I picked up the bottles and looked at them, but Mashall found the answer.
It was in the little paper instruction books. There was a few warranty
and a couple instruction guides, but the quick introduction was all we
would need.
"Thank you for purchasing Waylon Livingston's Renovating Renovations
Renewal Kit. For cleaning up and tidying the disarray in your residence
and your relationships." Mashall's eyes looked up at me. They were bright
emeralds now, and her voice was high and smooth. He clicked her tongue
and kept reading. He must be only five foot, now.
"To begin the renewal process, simply grip the feather duster in one hand
and sweep away the dust, restoring your home, and body, to a pristine
condition. Your home will be as good as new, and your body will be worthy
of putting on a pedestal of female beauty. Age rewinds, injuries repealed
and good humor revealed under all that dust and gloom of mundane
existence."
He flipped a few pages, skimming what was left. I just gaped at him. He
was shifting uncomfortably on his feet, but he'd stopped changing anyway.
"To complete the changes, drink the included tincture... if you don't
like the form that's chosen you can use the other cleaning oils to
customize the process... Hmm. Here we go, WARNING: Not recommended if
used by males. Drastic changes can occur. Should sexual activities be
engaged, seminal discharge in the vagina will have the effect of
imprinting the form upon the male as their monogamous parter and mate.
Side effects may include reality alteration, hyperfertility, nymphomania,
multiple personalities.... well I'm not going to worry about any of
that."
I noticed he'd developed some simple jewelry; a couple simple diamond
earrings. A white pearl necklace. The makeup seemed to enhance that. His
face and bosom was lightly powdered to be as white as snow. His tights
were white. Even his underwear was white; I could see it as all he was
wearing was undergarments. I think he realized where I was looking. He
tossed the paperwork on the table and made a disgusted noise.
Something in his panties shifted; suddenly the great big white ball of
gauze and satin fluttered, and Marshall's hands shot to his groin,
lightning fast. Black velvet overware appeared in his hands, as he
clutched at his groin, and his face was an O of shock and surprise.
---
"Mashall?" I asked.
"Not anymore," Mashall answered. I blanked as his expression turned to an
open mouth grinding of teeth.
"I think I just changed from Marshall to Marshe."
I glanced at his- her crotch and *she* backed away from me.
"Peter.. uhm.. yeah. Could you give me a little privacy please? Just...
turn around." Her eyes flitted down to my own crotch then up to my eyes.
"UH... oh... sure. Yeah."
I turned around back to the couch and pretended to be looking through
things... all to aware of the sounds Marshe was making. I could hear the
snapping of elastic.. the rustling of gauze. A few, cute exclamations and
curses and then the sliding of velvet against velvet. And then a long,
dead silence.
Somewhere in there I caught a glimpse of her in a mirror. A big black
expanse of velvet hid her modesty from view, or it would have, if her
eyes weren't wide open with one hand down the front of her skirt. I
would've missed it otherwise; a new scent filling the room. The slight
hint of lilies.
I didn't watch. She would've noticed the mirror if I'd looked for long.
The smell went away for a while. But when somewhere in that dead silence
the smell came back, I silently turned around. She had both her hands
behind her back, one arm over her shoulder, the other below, trying to
zip up her dress.
She sighed, and squeed painfully. "A little help please?"
I stepped towards her and she turned her back to me. I put her hand on
the velvet vest, squeezing it closed with one hand at the top and taking
hold of the zipper with the other. Silently, Marshe let go and let her
hands rest at her side. I smoothly zipped it up with no problem, and she
sighed in relief, resting back against me.
There's no way she didn't feel it. She was pressed up against me, her
golden hair well below my nose. I looked down to see her, silently
looking straight ahead with her hands pushed behind her, one on each of
my legs. Her right hand just an inch away from my penis.
I knew she could feel it. She was pushed right up against me, and so was
my penis, running down my pant leg as all epic trouser snakes go. I
couldn't tell what she was thinking. Was she trying to stop herself from
grabbing it? Was she steeling herself in reulvsion as her male ego frayed
and shred? Whatever it was, she held her breath. I could see down her
staring straight ahead, unmoving. I could see down the front of her
dress. The top few buttons open to reveal the top of her breasts.
Marshe made her decision. She turned to the bed and picked up the last
part of her outfit that she wasn't wearing. A pair of deep green garter
belts. Silently I took them from her and kneeled down as she faced me. I
looked up at her eyes as she stepped into them, one at a time. Then I had
to look down and contend with that dress. The skirt's velvet was too
heavy to just brush aside. I ducked my head down under that skirt and
lifted the garter belts to the peak of her thighs.
There were little alligator clamps on each belt that I used to connect to
her tights and the little bits of elastic dangling down from up above. I
followed them up to the light, then found there were little loops in the
skirt that could keep that from falling down too. All attaching to some
kind of under-body carriage system.
After I got the first garter belt on the smell of lavender returned, much
stronger than before. I inhaled deeply at the patch between her legs and
was rewarded with learning that my assumptions were correct. Marshall had
grown a small little flower.
I put the other garter belt in place and reached up to touch her cleft
but as soon as she felt something there she stepped back. And reluctantly
I got up from underneath her skirts. She was flushed and holding her
waist. She looked into my eyes with determination.
"I need you Peter... but I'm not going to fuck you without protection. Do
you have a condom?"
"Uh.. no," I admitted. She sniffed and looked away. "Look, I didn't
expect there to be any girls here."
"That's your problem, Peter. You never do."
I tried to look hurt but it didn't affect her.
"Maybe I do. Move aside." I got out from between her and the couch. After
a quick search she gave up, glancing anxiously out the windows. We locked
eyes.
"Peter there's only one other way for this to work," Marshe said as she
bent over to grab the feather duster.
---
My transformation didn't take as long. Oh, I suppose you were wondering
if I was going to take it? Maybe Marshe had brought some condoms. I'm
sure of it, actually, if she was looking for them. Definitely out to bag
one of Kevin's hot cousins if- when, apparently, they showed up. But of
course I took it. We were both roaring and ready to go, and it was
obvious neither of us wanted Kevin complicating it. So yeah, If I wasn't
going to get any action as a man, I was sure going to get it as a woman.
So I took that feather duster. And I got to cleaning. I was surprised
that it was almost spotless. Less surprised that Marshall hadn't thought
anything was strange about it. He hardly did any cleaning, but there was
something magic as evidenced by the fact that most of the furniture was
spotless.
---
Mashall sat on the edge of the bed, ordering me about. Having me stretch
up to get the cobwebs out of all the corners. Even the fireplace chimney
got cleaned. Proof that there was magic at work, since the feather duster
remained completely pure white. But my clothes didn't. Covered in soot I
looked back at her, but she just shrugged and with a smile and a squeeze
of her nipple, told me to keep cleaning.
I noticed she kept playing with herself. Her new breasts, her little
nose, her hair ... running her hands along the side of her velvet
dress... "You're not going to reach down your skirt?"
"That's your job," she declared imperiously. "I'm beginning to wonder. I
haven't even started to transform."
She grinned impishly. "Oh, you think so? Help me make the bed."
I grabbed one end of the bedsheets and drew them tight while she got the
other. "What, is it happening? And I just can't see it?"
"You'll see." When we finished the comforter, she went over to the couch
and picked another blanket and the tincture. She smoothed out the bed
spread and then sat on the end of the bed, waving me over. Marshe
unscrewed an eyedropper from the top of the small bottle and I walked
over and bent over.
She drew out just a little bit and then, "Stick out your tongue," and
laid 3 drops of the concoction on the tip of my tongue.
I felt a fan start up behind me as the front door opened and my dress
sprouted and bloomed. Thousands of chestnut tiny curls draped over my
shoulders. Long white gloves shot up my arms; ribbons and stockings
embraced my legs. A dress every bit as frilly and black as Marshe's
wrapped my frame, though with petticoats and layers and a undergarment
corset. I could feel something in my hair. But it wasn't my priority.
My priority was the footsteps stomping towards the bedroom door.
Marshe and I looked on in terror as Kevin walked in. Catching us both red
handed. The man didn't even slow down. He just grinned as he walked in
the doorway. He reached into a jacket pocket and pulled out an opened
condom wrapper.
I backed away. "No... no. No you're not going to fuck me. This is a house
of dykes now Kevin." I looked back at Marshe for support.
And she was making this unhappy grimace. "Yeah.... see about that."
"What..."
"I figured the lesbian thing was going to work. I know *I* like the
ladies at least, and Kevin sure does.. but something kind of became
apparent while you were transforming."
I looked back and forth like an anxious squirrel. "What became apparent
Marshe?"
She looked at me sadly, then reached out and grabbed my butt, pulling me
onto the bed. Seeing that I still wasn't getting it, She got up on her
knees and kissed my lips, rolling my nipple between her fingers. And it
did absolutely nothing for me. I looked at her in disbelief.
"Yeah, sorry," Kevin answered, right behind me. "It's a heterosexual
thing. These kits were invented by America's pioneers, and they had some
pretty puritan ideals. At least, that's what my uncle told me."
"Well, FORGET IT," I shouted, scooting away from him into the middle of
the bed.
"Okay by me. You can try to stick to your fish sandwiches. But in a
couple weeks when you are starting to get some needs..." He slid two
fingers into the package and withdraw the condom.
"And Marcie and I might've burned through all of these."
Kevin grinned and Marcie giggled, nodding. God her playful eyes were
annoying. "FINE!" I fumed.
Kevin dropped his pants and, pinching the end, held it with one hand over
his penis. Marcie still staring at me playfully. And I had to admit, I
felt a twinge looking at that dick that looking at her just didn't give
me.
"Fine... but Macie's going first," I asserted. Marcie and I both grabbed
opposite edges of the condom and pulled it down to the base of his penis,
while he just held it in place with his pinch at the tip. Once it was on
I started to turn to crawl away, but Kevin grabbed my leg and pulled me
to him.
"Nuh uh," Kevin said, grinning darkly. "If I nut in Marcie it's going to
be out of luck for you. You're going first my beauty."
Kevin just rubbed the tip of his penis in his fist while I looked at
Marcie. Who, like the completely ungrateful bitch that she is, just
smiled at me with her eyes sparkling. "Fine..." I crossed my arms and
turned back to Kevin.
Marcie sidled up behind me and lifted my skirt, showing him my white red
satin panties. I grabbed one end, not to be left out, and Kevin moved in
on me. Masturbating right up until he was ready to plunge into me. One
finger moved the panty out of the way and then his prick slipped inside
like a bandit.
I started dead on into his eyes. This really wasn't what I expected. His
penis slid in to my vagina... hardly doing anything. I thought it'd be
this enormous thick rod pushing me aside, but... it actually must have
been pretty thin. I felt it slide into me, like a finger into a glove.
Maybe it was the condom? It felt cold, rubbery. There wasn't anything
human about it. I adjusted my hips, trying to get an angle. It didn't do
anything for the sensation but he was filling me. Kinda.. I felt him
reach some kind of barrier and then mushroom out to fill it.
That must have been my hymen. I expected him to rip into it but instead I
felt this sudden warmth at the tip of his penis, billowing out all across
the obstruction, then flowing through it. A hot stream from a hose shoot
deep inside me, the first tickle that started to feel pleasant. I tried
to shake my hips but... Kevin's dick just fell out. Shrivled and
lifeless.
Marcie just started laughing. Kevin just grimaced and immediately started
masturbating. He was soft... was he impotent? Then what... my eyes
widened as I figured it out.
"NOT A WORD," Kevin commanded. He flashed Marcie a look of annoyance to
distract her, and then followed that up with. "Don't move a muscle,
Patrice." And so I stood at the foot of the bed, one hand on my hip,
another holding out the edge of my skirt, as Kevin walked around me to
start bantering with Marcie.
Marcie giggled and Kevin laughed as their wits dueled, trying to make
excuses for his premature ejaculation without actually admitting it. For
me though, I just had to deal with this ice cold lump at the bottom of my
stomach, and this bulb of molten lava rising through me to meet it.
---
Kevin lay on the bed behind Marcie, ploughing her for all she was worth
while she lay there and enjoy it. Just enjoying the feeling of his cock
sending shock waves through her body, his cold hands grasping at her
nylon covered thighs. He began to slow down, so she relived the moment of
him ripping through her pantyhose, and then moments later her hymen. She
tried squeezing him with her vaginal walls but it just felt wrong. The
plastic shell took all the fun out of it... but at least the rhythm and
deep penetration was nice.
Her eyes opened as she let herself relax and wait for her next orgasm.
There was Patrice, still standing there at the edge of the bed. As she
watched a ball of slime appeared, hanging to the inside of Patrice's leg
and slowly started to slide onto the stocking.
Marcie stared at it uncomprehendingly, then as it got to about Patrice's
knee, bent over to try and scoop it on to her left index finger.
Emely
- 31.05.2022
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- Category:
- Horror
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