So my muse got horny again and this is the result. I kind of like revenge stories, and while this isn't exactly one, it's similar. Enjoy!
In case it wasn't obvious, this is a sequel to my earlier story, One Night Out.
Once again, all comments and feedback are appreciated!
--
I rested back on the sofa, yawning. I had had a looooooooooong day yesterday. Rick and Maegan had lent me out to a few of their friends, and I was still recovering from the marathon gangbang that had lasted most of the day. Two guys and a girl...the dudes had taken me in all my holes while the chick licked me out, and when they had gotten tired of that, the girl had put on a strap-on and did me doggy style while the guys watched and jerked off in the corner. It had been fun, but tiring.
As I flipped through a magazine that someone had left on the dresser, I rubbed my tummy absently. This was my sixth, and while I had gotten used to being preggers by now, it still took a toll on me. Swollen feet, morning sickness (not too bad nowadays, thankfully) and those strange cravings...oh well, this just came with the territory of being a sex slave. Didn't really have much choice, so I just went with the flow. At least the sex was good.
The door slammed open and Maegan stormed in, her face as black as storm clouds. I looked up in surprise. While this wasn't the first time the witch had gotten angry - she and her boyfriend had the occasional fight, which usually ended up with things being thrown and then wild makeup sex on the sofa (the same one I was using...which explained how the leather got all spotty) - this was different. She was royally pissed, and it showed in her furrowed brows and angry frown.
Rick came into the living room to see what the fuss was about. "What's wrong, sweetcheeks? Spell went wrong on you?"
"Something much worse. I lost a bet."
"What kind of bet?" asked her boyfriend.
Maegan heaved a heavy sigh. "You know Sylvia?" I did. She was one of Maegan's witch friends, a tallish and thin woman with a hawk nose and cruel smile. No tattoos, but enough gothic clothes to make the late Amy Winehouse jealous. Maegan and her often drank together, and often got me to eat them out after their little tete-a-tetes. She was a little tarter than Maegan...apple to the other's cider.
"We both got drunk, see? And after the fifth drink we wanted to see who could do five more without passing out. I knocked out first. Loser had to do whatever the other wanted."
Rick whistled. "Not the best of terms to have a bet on."
"You're telling me! But we were drunk. Haven't you ever been drunk before?"
"Well...yeah. So what happened? What did she want?"
Maegan sighed again and shot me a dirty look. I looked back in all innocence. Me? Where did I fit into this? I was just an innocent bystander!
"She wanted me to become a bimbo fuckdoll like her."
I was both surprised and angry at what Maegan said. What a request to make! I mean, I knew that these witch types were twisted, but I thought they only took out their perverse desires on other non-witches.
Also, what did she mean by bimbo fuckdoll? I wasn't a bimbo fuckdoll. Sure my daily routine consisted of sucking cock and eating pussy and getting reamed six ways from Sunday, unless it was Sunday in which case I went down to the nearest bar to pick up (or more likely, be picked up) by a handsome guy who would then bring me home and...ok. Maybe I was a bimbo fuckdoll after all.
"Whoa. So what did you say?" asked Rick. He seemed to be taking all this in stride. I guessed he had seen weirder stuff in his time as Maegan's boyfriend.
"What do you think? It was the terms of the bet. I had to agree. Also, no magic for a month. Interferes with the process or something."
"So...when is this gonna start?" Was it just me or did Rick seem a little eager? Maegan must have caught a little of his tone and shot him a glance that would freeze water.
"Tomorrow. She's gonna bring me back to her place to cast the spell. And don't you look so smug about it!"
--
I woke up the next morning to see an even angrier Maegan on the sofa, doing her nails...except that Maegan never did her nails. Never before the spell, that is. Her breasts were already bigger, and I could see that her eyes were done up in cat's eye eyeliner that was so thick that it made her look a little like a panda. Sylvia had weird tastes.
I carefully avoided her as I went about getting my breakfast - were we out of cereal? - but Maegan glared daggers at me when I sat down to eat.
"I know what you're thinking. Serves me right, right?"