Topic: The Grand Karma

The Grand Karma
By Xerox2

(18+) The following story contains extreme-- and extremely bizarre-- sexual content and should only be enjoyed by those readers who have achieved both an appropriate age and an appropriate level of depravity.


The valet opened the front doors of The Grand Karma. Swirls of snow gusted into the opulent entryway before the huddled couple. As eager as Richard Camdyn was to get out of the biting cold, he allowed his wife, Michelle, to pass first. The click clack of their dress shoes echoed through the old building’s mahogany-walled foyer, and it calmed Richard. They were home.

“You really don’t know about Suto?” asked Michelle.

Richard shrugged and offered a sheepish grin. The subject had come up at Michelle’s work party, and he’d once again embarrassed himself with his ignorance.

Michelle’s hand tightened around his. “Of course you don’t, my sweet, sweet angel. Well, when a woman in Suto reaches her 20th birthday, she must either choose to leave the town or undergo a radical alchemical transformation.”

“Like in Jizza?” Richard asked, pressing the elevator call button.

Michelle shook her head and smiled. “Close! But no. In Jizza, the transformations are all different, and there’s no laws enforcing it. In Suto, they use a very refined process to produce a demon-cum solution that results in the same transformation for each woman. They drink the potions willingly and become these funny little monkey-like creatures with hand-feet, prehensile tails, and--”

“Let me guess: a giant pussy right on their face,” he sneered.

“No, no, nothing like that.” Michelle chuckled. “Though they do end up with a massive cock that nearly drags on the ground when they walk.”

Richard stuck out his tongue. The elevator doors slid open, and they stepped inside.

“I don’t see why someone would willingly transform themselves,” he said. “It’s so. . . deprived”

“It’s ‘depraved,’ sweety.” Michelle corrected. “And of course you don’t understand, you beautiful hunk. For you, any change would be a downgrade.” She kissed his hand. “Some people aren’t so lucky.”

A commotion at the building’s entryway drew the couple’s attention. A man in a shabby overcoat squeezed through the building’s front door, shouldered the valet aside, and dashed for the elevator.

“Hold the door!” he shouted as he ran, boots leaving muddy prints on the marble floor.

“Speaking of those less fortunate. . .” Michelle whispered, jabbing the close-door button. Back in the foyer, the valet spoke urgently into his radio. The elevator doors slid toward each other, but the man’s arm burst through at the last second and he squeezed inside.

“Thankya kindly.” The man pressed the top floor’s button with a bulbous gloved fingertip and leaned back against the stainless steel wall. His clothes hung strangely on his body, and between his wide-brimmed hat, the coat, the gloves, and the boots, hardly a single inch of his skin was visible. The elevator filled with a musky, sweaty scent. Richard stared until Michelle cleared her throat.

“I’m headed to Suto next month on business, and you, my love, are going to join me.” she said, ignoring the man. “Think of it like a vacation.”

“That could be interesting, as long as you don’t go native on me.”

Michelle gagged. “Fat chance. I may not be a sculpted adonis like yourself, but I’m perfectly happy with my current body. No giant cocks or tails for me, thankyouverymuch. Besides, in Suto all the women are completely subservient to the men.”

Richard snorted. “Well that wouldn’t work for us. Can you imagine me making all the plans?”

“It would be a disaster, my love.”

The elevator doors opened onto the seventh floor, and Michelle and Richard hustled out, eager to get away from the strange, smelly man. They followed the velvet-wallpapered hallway to their condo. Several doors down, another couple was leaning against the wall, making out like a pair of horny teens. It was Mr. and Mrs Kinsey. Michelle despised the Kinseys. They were another young, successful couple and were always making a show of how perfect their life was. Richard constantly fell for their phoney charms, and that made her hate them even more.

Michelle wrinkled her nose and cleared her throat as she unlocked the door. Megana Kinsey caught Michelle’s eyes and started to lead her husband Peter back inside. His hand slapped Megana’s generous ass, and the couple giggled with delight as the door closed behind them.

The shabby man had spent the entire elevator ride listening to the rich couple’s conversation. His mind twisted any glimpses of their lives into hate. They were prudish, rich, and worst of all, happy. The whole building was full of such people. How he hated them all!

He fingered the vial in his coat pocket, the instrument of these fools’ comeuppance. Security would soon catch him and throw him out of the building, but not before he had a chance to empty the pure, unrefined demon cum into the building’s water supply. Perhaps this sample came from the cock of the building’s namesake: the lord of all demons, Karma himself! The thought made him giddy.

He rubbed his lumpy, misshapen body through his overcoat and moaned. His legs jerked with pleasure, and a dribble of sexual release ran down his pantleg into his boot. If the d-cum had even a fraction of the effect of the pinpoint drop he’d taken, they wouldn’t need to take an expensive flight to gawk at mutated freaks.


Michelle slammed the condo door behind them and shook her head.  “First the man in the elevator, now the Kinseys. I swear, The Grand Karma used to have standards.”

“I don’t know. The Kinseys looked like they were having a good time.” Richard spun around and pulled Michelle into an embrace. “How would you like to have a little fun with your trophy husband tonight?” he whispered in her ear. 

Michelle sighed, gave him a single peck on the neck, and pulled back. He knew what she was going to say before she opened her mouth.

“It’s been a long night, Richard. I think I’m just going to head to bed.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty beat myself,” he said, trying to hide his disappointment. What was the point of owning an extra-large ultra-luxury bed if they rarely used it for anything but sleeping?

Once Michelle had finished brushing her teeth, Richard shut himself in the bathroom for his nightly masturbation session. It made him feel a little better. When he emerged, his wife was already deep asleep.

Michelle kept her eyes closed as Richard climbed into bed. Best he thought she was sleeping after giving that excuse.

“Pleasant dreams, love,” he whispered. He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek, his lips hardly touching her skin. She supposed this was an attempt to be considerate, but the touch left a tickle that lingered like a fly landing on her cheek. She endured this dreadful itch until Richard’s breathing slowed and grew steady.

Michelle scratched her cheek, turned over, opened her eyes, and glared at the slack-jawed face of her husband. Having a mostly-empty head must make it easy to fall asleep. She envied the sweet oaf. She slid out from the toasty covers and stood in the bedroom’s chilly December air. Goosepimples rose from her skin. She wrapped herself in a cashmere blanket and headed to the bathroom for her own secret, nightly ritual.

Michelle locked the bathroom door. She pushed the rubber stopper into the bathtub’s drain and turned the hot water on full blast. The room filled with lavender-scented steam, and she let the blanket fall to the ground with a contented sigh.

The mirror fogged, and her reflection faded into a flesh-colored ghost. She liked it better that way. It stopped her from picking out some new wrinkle or freckle to obsess over. She sat on the bath mat and leaned her back against the warm porcelain of the filling tub, taking deep breaths of the heavy, humid air. Often, she would begin to feel drowsy before she even set foot in the bath. Tonight, she felt it more than ever.

Her lungs were like heaters, infusing her blood with energy that loosened the knots in her muscles and relaxed her joints. Her mind grew sluggish and peaceful, thoughts drifting back to the party, to how handsome Richard looked all dressed up, to how much better he looked with said clothes removed. An absent-minded smile spread across her lips. Most women had to settle for less. She recalled the caress of his strong fingers on her hip and started to regret turning him down for sex. A sensual fantasy danced through her head.

Water began gurgling into the tub’s upper drain, snapping Michelle back to reality. Her hand had somehow found its way between her legs, and she lifted it to find her fingers covered with a sheen of her own fluids. She’d never dozed off while drawing the bath before, and now she was masturbating in her sleep? 

Something was very wrong here.

Worry would have been a rational reaction, but her mind was too warm and fuzzy to produce anxious thoughts. Even so, it concluded that it would be best to skip the bath and rejoin Richard in bed. She turned slowly, leaned against the tub, and reached for the stopper at the bottom. The water enveloped her arm like a hot sleeve, gripping her, begging her to slide inside. A tingle shot down her arm and landed in her womb. The muscles of her sex fluttered of their own accord, releasing a string of fem-lube onto the expensive wool blanket below.

She couldn’t remember why she had her hand on the stopper, but the rest of her body was jealous of her arm. Gravity weighed her limbs like hunks of lead, but she heaved and slid herself over the edge of the tub, flopping into the water. The tingling warmth hugged every inch and crevice of her body, amplifying the relaxing properties of the steam tenfold. She couldn’t summon the strength to move a muscle.

She closed her eyes. With each slow breath, sensation fled her body. Her fingertips and toes melted away; she could no longer feel them, then her hands and feet. Each rise and fall of her chest saw another inch of limb dissolve away. It was a very curious, but not at all unpleasant sensation. The event horizon crept toward her knees and elbows, and she felt it in her breasts. They were already floating in the water, but now the bite of the chill air on her nipples simply disappeared. The cool, lapping surface retreated from her bosom, as if the water was growing deeper and deeper. It was a euphoric, otherworldly feeling.

Another shuddering, blissful spasm wracked what was left of her body. Its force hit hardest between her legs, straining her sex so hard that a rush of hot bathwater flooded inside. She gasped at the sudden, pleasurable invasion. Warmth bloomed in her belly, reminding her of the sensation of Richard coming inside. Ah, Richard. She would have traded anything to have him in the bath with her at that moment, powerful arms massaging her torso, hard cock pressing at her opening. The water was wonderful, but she craved something more substantial inside of her. She reached between her legs to satisfy herself.

But she couldn’t reach.

That was odd. Her eyes fluttered open to see what was the matter. What they saw turned her blood to ice. Her arms were gone, reduced to nothing more than blunt nubs protruding from her shoulders. Her legs had suffered the same fate. Their stumps were still able to brush the far end of the tub, only because her torso had lengthened considerably. It was like she’d been stretched out like a piece of human taffy. Her curly patch of pubic hair seemed lay miles away at the end of a narrow, cylindrical body bereft of breasts or belly-button. Panic set in. She wiggled her nub-limbs and twisted her back in a desperate attempt to escape the bath, but all the motion made her slip forward. She gasped a breath to scream just before her head plunged underwater.

Michelle held her breath and thrashed about in the tub. Up and down lost their distinction as she twisted and curled her elongated body in unfamiliar, alien ways. Sometimes her back would feel the cold air, but when she tried to surface, it would sink again and some other part of her body would splash free. When her head broke the water she gasped fleeting breaths of air before plunging back into the drink. She swallowed mouthfuls of bathwater, and the terrible warmth that was once so comforting blazed through her insides.

The impacts of her stumpy limbs against the tub ceased as they were fully absorbed. Additional vertebrae popped and cracked into existence, allowing her flailing to twist her body into even more confusing positions. At one point, her nose and mouth slammed against her pussy. It felt large and swollen and seemed to envelop her face before she pulled herself free.

The tub grew around her, and opportunities to breathe came less frequently. Her lungs felt like they were on fire. She was drowning. Tracking the sensations of her bizarre transformation took a back seat to a pure, primal need for air. The edges of her vision grew dark. Her thrashing slowed.

Then she saw it. Hazy through the bathwater, the tub’s black, rubber plug sat inches from her face. With every remaining ounce of effort, she craned her neck, opened her mouth, and clamped the little silver chain floating in the water between her teeth. She gave a weak tug, then another, and then, on her third and final tug, the stopper came free with a resonating THUGK.

Water rushed toward the drain, pulling her and the stopper with it. She kept the chain clenched between her jaws and stretched her body straight, trying not to get sucked down the drain. The water gurgled away, and Michelle collapsed against the damp porcelain, gasping the sweet, abundant air.

None of the signals coming from her body made a lick of sense. Parts of her midriff laid atop her lower back and chest. Her face felt numb and ridgid. The shower curtain and tiled walls rose above her like the walls of a skyscraper.

Once she’d caught her breath, she ventured a glance back at the rest of her body. Even this motion felt bizarre, as her head now seemed to be fixed pointing the same direction as her spine. Turning her head the normal way sent her tubular body rolling onto its side. It was only by laying on her stomach and making a head-cocking motion that she could turn to glimpse the extent of her transformation.

Her new body stretched away in a lengthy series of chaotic twists and coils. Strands of hair from her head stuck wetly to her skin. Skin, for even though her body resembled a snake’s, she had no scales. A star-shaped freckle that used to be just above her left hip now marked a distant section of her tube-like body. She tried to scream, but the only sound to escape her lips was a dry hiss. Somewhere distant, her stomach sank.

Michelle’s panic gave way to utterly sober shock. She flexed her back experimentally, watching various segments of her length jerk in response. If she straightened herself completely, she stretched from the drain to the opposite edge of the tub where she would usually rest her head. Her body was as thick as her neck for its entire length, quickly tapering to a blunt point at the far end. She curled around to investigate her backside and nearly puked at what she found. Instead of a snakelike tail, her body ended with a single, puffy sphincter, like a worm’s. A spike of dread shot down Michelle’s length, landing with a clench in the wrinkled pucker before her eyes. It was nearly as large as her head. Disgust of the disproportionate, lewd opening overpowered her shock and flushed her cheeks. She flicked her backside out of sight. What would Richard think?

Richard! If she could get his attention, he could drive her to the hospital. If they got there quick enough, they might be able to cure her!

Michelle’s shock, threatening to give way to panic, was stabilized by the realization of a single, material goal: get to Richard.

This proved more difficult than she anticipated. Sliding out of the tub was surprisingly easy thanks to her powerful core muscles. She landed in an awkward heap on the cashmere blanket and looked up at the towering bathroom door. It was closed and locked. Damn. Stretching up to the handle was out of the question, but if she could climb onto the counter, she’d at least be able to reach it.

She inched toward the toilet by stretching her head forward, pressing it against the ground, and dragging the rest of her body behind her. By the time she arrived, she was getting pretty good at moving around. A surge of pride welled up within her, but it quickly soured. How could she be proud of learning how to inch around in this disgusting body? Tears did not come, but only because she no longer seemed capable of crying. She had to make it to the hospital before she was trapped this way forever.

The toilet’s lid was up. Typical Richard. She gathered her body into a sloppy coil and stretched her head up high enough to give the seat a push. It landed with a victorious clatter. Bracing her chin atop the seat cover, she started pulling the rest of her body up. It was strenuous at first, but once she’d lifted half her length atop the seat, the rest came easily. From here, reaching the counter was as easy as repeating the motion. Easier, even, since she could hook her neck around the cold, metal faucet. Soon her body was coiled up inside the sink’s enamel basin. She shivered, and her body to rubbed against itself in all sorts of weird ways.

The steam had settled at this point, leaving the room coated in droplets of cold water. The mirror was still foggy, but even so, she couldn’t recognize the distorted form staring back at her. She cleared the condensation by swiping her neck across the freezing glass in a clumsy zig-zag. Had her face gone the same wormy way as her backside? Would she look in the mirror and find nothing but a pair of eyes perched atop another desperately-pursing sphincter? She took a deep breath and faced the mirror.

Michelle found herself face-to-face with a snake. She tensed in surprise and promptly felt stupid for being afraid of her own reflection. Yes, this bizarre image was now “her” reflection. At second glance, she wasn’t quite a regular snake. All the shapes were the same, but her face was covered in the same uncannily-human skin as the rest of her body. Her lips had also survived the transformation, but they now capped a wide mouth at the end of a short, blunt muzzle. Just above, a pair of beady, black eyes stared back at her, as empty and cold as any natural snake’s. She shivered under their gaze and turned away. She felt sick.

The cold porcelain on all that hairless skin was quickly sapping Michelle’s body heat. It was time to move on. The door handle was only a foot and a half from the counter, but the drop to the floor was a vast canyon. She wrapped her neck around the faucet and reached out to the handle with her rear. The metal was slippery with moisture, and each time her pucker brushed it, a jolt of unwanted pleasure shot up her guts. She tried her best to ignore the sensations as she looped her ass-end around the handle. With a twist and a tug, the door popped open. Michelle used her grip on the handle as an anchor to lower herself to the hardwood floor of the hallway.

She’d done it! But victory was fleeting. The bathwater on her skin evaporated what little heat wasn’t being sucked away by the floor and chilled her to the core. She started shivering uncontrollably. She slithered silently toward the bed, now more motivated by the primal urge for heat than any hope of finding a cure. Richard’s feet protruded from the blankets, leaving an opening in the covers between his ankles. It was via this toasty cave that Michelle entered the bed.

Concerns of waking her husband melted in the under-blanket warmth. The touch of his flesh was like wrapping winter-bit hands around a mug of hot chocolate. It was intoxicating. She snuggled her clammy, wet body up between his thighs, rubbing the remaining droplets of bathwater onto his skin. Her nose bumped against something wrinkled and soft, and her nostrils filled with the distinctive scent of ball sweat. She chuckled silently to herself and gave his sack an appreciative lick with her long, forked tongue.

Just beyond Richard’s balls lay the burning epicenter of his body heat: his penis. It rose proudly erect from his crotch, tenting the covers. Michelle coiled around the turgid spire, delighting in the heat delivered by those big veins rising from its surface. He must have been having quite the dream to prompt a boner this hard.

Richard’s dream was taking a strange turn.

It started normally enough. He was seated next to Michelle at the conference table of one of her big executive meetings. Everyone was sitting up straight, tense, as if the slightest mistake would spell the end of their careers. A man in a pin-stripe Armani suit stood in the front looking angry enough to kill with a glare.

“The option grants are vesting behind schedule!” he shouted, pounding his fist on the table. “I need answers! Richard, you’re in charge of this deal. What’s your take?”

Every head in the room turned to face him.

“I, uh…” he stammered, sweat beading on his forehead. He glanced over to Michelle for help. Her mouth was closed up, gone, lips and all, and she shrugged helplessly at him. Hope was fading. Then her eyes lit up. She dove under the table, pulled his slacks off with impossible speed, and started rubbing up and down his legs. Her hands were cool and clammy, but the touch was electric. He gasped.

The other members of the meeting furrowed their brows but said nothing. The Armani suit blinked intently, then cocked his head as it to say “well? Go on.”

Beneath the table, Michelle’s massage climbed toward Richard’s crotch. Her fingertips reached into his boxers and tickled his balls, then moved upward and freed his erection via the slit in the front. Her clammy hands wrapped around his shaft and stroked in a bizarre, spiraling touch that was unlike anything he’d ever felt. A moan escaped his lips before he could catch it.

The rest of the attendees nodded and whispered approvingly amongst each other. Whatever Michelle was doing, he hoped she didn’t stop!

Back under the covers, Michelle slithered around Richard’s cock in a tight spiral, struggling to maximize its touch against her skin. Each rub sent sparks of bliss sizzling through her body, and she reveled in mindless satisfaction. But despite her efforts, a dreadful chill remained deep in her core. The sensitive flesh of her backside’s oversized sphincter provided the only means of attacking the inner-chill. She rubbed it greedily against Richard’s groin, leaving a trail of slick juices wherever it touched. Still the deep cold remained.

Finally, she could bear it no longer. She pressed her drooling pucker against Richard’s burning glans. Her opening flexed and pursed against the turgid flesh, giving it an alien kiss. Gods, it felt like it belonged inside of her. She pressed down. After a brief resistance, Richard’s cockhead popped inside. Her guts blazed white-hot, like running hot water over an icy-numb hand. There was no discomfort, only pleasure.

Her pucker clenched around the sweltering shaft, drawing it deeper. This version of her anus didn’t seem to have a “push” mode; it was only pull, pull pull, and she couldn’t control it. It worked like some horrible parasite’s mouth, swallowing the cock one inch at a time until the hungry orifice was slurping against the organ’s base. Michelle ground her pucker against Richard’s thatch of pubic hair. Worry, doubt, and terror could not penetrate her lust’s cocoon.

Inside his dream, Richard was experiencing the blow job to end all blow jobs. How this was possible, he wasn’t sure. His cock felt like it was inside a tunnel of lips, all kissing and squeezing around his shaft. But despite the pleasure, the board members’ stares made him uncomfortable. He mumbled some excuse about needing to use the restroom and stood, only to find that the only thing left of his wife were a pair of plump, lipsticked lips, locked around the base of his cock. They were attached to a long, fleshy tube that lifted itself out of Michelle’s empty clothes and flopped onto the table. It whipped about like the tail of a giant sperm, sending papers flying. Everyone in attendance stood and began to applaud.

Richard grasped the disembodied lips and tried to yank the creature away, but it did not budge. His tugging only summoned a wave of pleasure that weakened his knees and sent him pitching forward atop the table. There he gave in and started stroking away at the bizarre monstrosity, moaning and gasping to a standing ovation and calls for his promotion.

It was the best sex Michelle ever had. Richard’s length filled her like a hot steel rod, keeping her last seven inches perfectly straight while the rest of her body writhed and flopped around in bliss. She only wished that he would thrust inside of her a little. Trying to bounce herself was no use; her opening had an iron grip around the base of his cock.

Richard’s hand shot under the covers and grabbed Michelle. He yanked hard, and a flash of pain shot through Michelle’s body. Thankfully, instead of a second yank his hand loosened and started stroking her up and down. Michelle hissed in pleasure, her entire body one giant erogenous zone. But the earlier agony of the tug had sobered her. Surely that should have been enough to pull her free of his dick. She hadn’t budged an inch from his base.

Michelle curled around to investigate, resting her chin on Richard’s balls. As close as she was to the action, she couldn’t see where her husband's flesh ended and hers began. There wasn’t a hint of the wrinkled sphincter, not even a crease, just an even gradient between Richard’s dark tan and her own white-pale skin. However, his cock was still there. She could still feel its heat and stiffness in her innards. It throbbed in time with his heartbeat, about half as fast as her own near-panic flutter. With each steady pulse its heat spread, blurring the boundary between shaft and passage. Soon, she could no longer feel his penis at all, only that steady, powerful heartbeat, forcing his intense warmth up the length of her body. In its wake, thick veins bulged from the surface of her skin, throbbing not with her own heartbeat, but with Richard’s.

“Gods,” she screamed internally, “I’m becoming his cock!”

In outright panic, she slithered over the edge of the bed, but her connection to Richard caught her before she hit the floor. She braced against the mattress’s edge and pulled with all her might, trying to ignore the involuntary shudders of pleasure from Richard’s stroking. His touch coaxed the pulsing, blissful heat up her body until it was in her chest. Her own heart raced frantically as the wave washed over it. Then it slowed and went quiet. All that remained was Richard’s steady beat.

She was no longer stuck to him. Now, she was a part of him.

Michelle’s two most primal instincts, Lust and Terror, fought for control of her brain. Richard stroked again, tugging her back under the covers. The sheets swept across her skin, kindling a storm of blissful sparks that filled her guts and left her twitching. Lust took the lead. Her stomach flipped, and ulped a glob of something familiar and salty into her mouth: Richard’s semen. Terror regained control. She didn’t want to be a cock! She had to stop him!

Michelle slithered up Richard’s chest and rose from the sheets like a cobra ready to strike. His eyes were half open, staring ahead in vacant pleasure like those of a junkie who’d just had his fix. His hands continued their blissful pumping, pushing his heartbeat to the back of her skull. Her head swam, flesh swelling with each pulse. Richard’s hot blood ran through her brain, trading logical thought for pure rapturous pleasure. What was her plan again? It couldn’t have been to stop him; she was too close to coming.

Richard stroked wildly, and he gave a loud and guttural moan. Michelle’s entire being flooded with pleasure. A pressure appeared way down at her base and triggered a reflex she’d never felt before. It was like swallowing, but in reverse. Interior muscles squeezed in a wave, starting from her backside and traveling up her length. Several tense seconds later, it reached the back of her throat. She opened her mouth and spewed. A great glob of white gunk splattered against Richard’s face, followed by another and another. She closed her mouth, but it spurted from her nostrils like a lewd sneeze, slapping wetly against her husband’s stomach.

The orgasmic contractions slowed, and the last glob of cum dribbled from Michelle’s lips. Her mind returned in sudden, terrible clarity. She tried to scream but couldn’t draw a breath. It wasn’t necessary anymore, with Richard’s blood pumping through her veins. He would breathe for both of them from now on.

Richard awoke coughing and sputtering mouthfuls of salty slime. He tried opening his eyes, but it stung. God, it was all over his face! It smelled like semen, but he’d never cum so much in his life. He sat up and wiped his face clean, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

Then he caught a movement under the sheets and froze. There was something crawling on top of him! He threw back the covers and found himself face to face with the beady eyes of a--


Richard slapped the snake aside and scrambled out of bed, knocking side-lamp over in the process. He made it two steps before the snake, which seemed to be following him, wrapped around his ankle and sent him tumbling to the floor. What ensued was a wrestling match for the ages: man versus beast. It was only after he landed a couple good punches and started throttling the creature that he realized something was very wrong. He paused, both hands wrapped around the creature’s neck. Why did his dick hurt so much? Glancing at his crotch, he found his cock had grown absolutely massive, as thick as both his wrists together and stretching on and on. . . He followed its length to the floor, around his leg, and up past his hands where it ended in the increasingly purple head of a panicked-looking snake. His grip relaxed a little, and the snake’s head sank into a roll of extra flesh, leaving just the tip of its nose poking free into the air. It was a foreskin. The foreskin of a penis.

“It’s my. . . my dick?”

He carefully set the snake down, now very aware that he could feel the cold floor beneath its body as surely as it was his own. It moved with a mind of its own, lifting its head and looking around blindly. He gently pulled the foreskin back from its head, and it regarded him with its black, emotionless eyes.

It was too dark in the bedroom, so Richard stood and made his way to the bathroom. The snake dragged a bit before coiling around his leg.

“Sorry,” he muttered. It felt strange apologizing to his dick, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

The bathroom’s light was already on, and under its glow the examination began in earnest. The snake performed its own investigation of their shared body, twisting around to view the situation from all sorts of angles.

The first thing Richard noticed were his balls. They were at least three times as large as normal, stretching his sack until it brushed against his inner thighs. Just above rose the snake’s body. Its pale skin was covered in blue and purple veins, some bulged from the surface as thick as his finger, others were barely visible. Its flesh was firm but had some give under his fingers, reminding him, fittingly enough, of a mostly-erect penis. The body-- or shaft-- was incredibly long, perhaps as long as he was tall. At the moment, its foreskin looked like a collar of loose, wrinkled flesh. It gathered behind a fleshy ridge that rose from the back of the snake’s head and looked remarkably like a human glans. It, and the rest of the snake’s bulbous head, were bright pink.

The snake uncoiled from his leg (an indescribably strange sensation) and examined itself in the mirror. Its face was snakelike, but any serpentine aggression was softened by its pink, swollen shape. The foreskin’s frenulum attached, in a wrinkled V, to the front center of its lower jaw, just below a pair of very human-looking lips. To Richard’s surprise, the creature opened its mouth and stuck out its tongue, turning its head this way and that, examining itself. Its maw split Richard’s cockhead gruesomely wide. His skin crawled at the sight.

He stared, stunned as his new dick checked itself out in the mirror. He didn’t have the first clue what to do. Then it struck him. Michelle could help! She always knew what to do.

“Michelle?” he called. No answer.

Richard held the snake awkwardly in his hands and searched the condo. “Michelle? Michelle!?”

There was no sign of her. She would have taken her phone if she’d left, and it was still on the bedside table. His snake-dick struggled in his grasp, first a little, then stronger and stronger until it slipped free of his hand. When he looked down, it stared him straight in the eyes.

“M-Michelle?” he ventured.

The snake’s cheeks blushed an even brighter pink. It nodded and looked away.

“Michelle!?” he cried, bending down so they were face-to-face. “By Freya, What happened?”

Michelle opened her mouth to speak, but only a strand of clear, viscous fluid escaped her lips. Richard tenderly wiped it away. The tickle of his touch made him suck a breath.

“You can’t talk?”

She shook her head. Her eyes bulged with panic. Richard tried to console her by petting her on the head like an animal.

“There there,” he cooed, ignoring the shivers of pleasure that accompanied each stroke.  “Let’s get you something to write with.”

Michelle bobbed her head in agreement, and Richard gathered her up and stood to find a pen. His mind was reeling. Bizarre, sexual transformations were not unheard of, but that it was something that happened to other people. Never once in his life had he considered that he and Michelle might be affected. He gently set her down atop her favorite mahogany roll top desk and rummaged through the drawers. The green felt surface tickled her belly.

“Okay, honey. Here’s a sheet of paper and a box of sharpies. Now open up, and I’ll just set this in your mouth like-- there! Is that too deep?”

Michelle propped the tip of the sharpie against the paper and pressed the marker a couple inches deeper into her mouth. Richard’s legs nearly buckled. As overwhelming as the feeling of the sharpie entering what was essentially his urethra was, there was no pain. His wife began to write.

“GO,” she started

Each penstroke sent a curious vibration up the marker’s shaft and into his own. Michelle rolled it over her tongue to find a better grip, and Richard swallowed a moan. He shouldn’t be getting off to this. It was an emergency! But on the other hand, there couldn’t be any harm in simply enjoying the sensations, so long as Michelle didn’t notice.

“GO TO T--”

Michelle undulated against the desk. Her lettering grew sloppy. Richard gripped the chair and bit his lower lip. This pleasure had a teasing, incomplete quality to it, like he was only using a single finger to stroke the back of his cockhead. He yearned to take hold of his shaft and jack off properly.

“You’re doing great,” he breathed, petting her back as if encouraging her.

She pressed against his hand and started on the next letter. A coil near her base rubbed up and down his thigh. He ventured petting her with a second hand, and she leaned into that touch as well. The marker slid from her mouth and clattered to the desk, shiny with saliva or precum. Richard felt strangely empty with it gone. Michelle slithered to the box of still-capped sharpies and sucked one between her lips.  This time, Richard failed to hold his moan. His wife gave no sign that she’d heard him. She was too busy swallowing another marker, pressing it deep into the back of her throat.

Now the barriers were broken. Richard wrapped both hands around his wife’s girth and started stroking, trying to find the best way to masturbate a six-foot cock. A delightful stretching in his urethra informed him that Michelle had swallowed a third sharpie. He wondered if this was sex or masturbation. Certainly there were two minds at work, each finding their own forms of pleasure, but with their shared sensations there was no need for communication, no asking of consent. It made the act sinfully self-indulgent.

For perhaps the first time in their relationship, Michelle’s thoughts were a lot less complicated. She was only curious just how many of these deliciously thick markers she could fit into her mouth. Every stretch of her gullet brought untold pleasure, and she wanted more, more, more! It was a fitting attitude for a penis.

Richard’s hands coaxed another glob of precum into her mouth, and she used the extra lubricant to slide sharpie number four all the way into the back of her throat, delighting in the click of the other markers shifting against each other.

Richard gripped below her head and everything went dark. At first she thought she’d gone blind with pleasure, but it was only her foreskin devouring her face again. The extra flesh stretched tight around her distended jaw. The only sounds she heard were the dull roar of covered ears and Richard’s muffled moans. He massaged the rubbery ridge of her ultra-sensitive glans, using the loose skin in lieu of lube.

Michelle surrendered to Richard’s touch. Far away, she felt his hefty balls lift. She opened her mouth impossibly wide in a silent scream of pleasure and, with a series of reverse-swallows, pumped an extraordinary amount of cum out into a world she couldn’t see. The deluge swept the clutch of markers from her throat.

Ah, sweet relief. 

She relished every orgasmic aftershock, then opened her mouth and rubbed her head against the desk until her foreskin hood slipped back and settled behind her softening head. She found a disaster zone. Big globs of semen covered the desk, dribbled down the green-glass lamp and embroidered curtains. The sheet of paper she’d been writing on was soaked.

“Oh, honey. I’m sorry,” Richard groaned. “I should have aimed you better.”

Aimed me like a dick, Michelle thought, to minimize the mess made by a dick. Was that all she was now? Just some filthy bodypart made for sex and pleasure? She sure had the libido of one. Her cum-soaked note read merely “GO TO TH,” a testament to how quickly lust had overwhelmed her mind. Continuing was impossible; her mouth was far too tender to hold a marker.

Michelle knew she should have felt depressed or furious, but all she could manage was a dull shame. Her mind was all fuzzy and soft with unwanted afterglow bliss. Richard was asking her questions, but it all seemed like so much effort to pay attention. She flipped onto her back and shimmied backward, pulling her foreskin over her face. She hid in her dark home, but she could never escape Richard’s heartbeat throbbing through her body.

Richard was at a loss. Terror and embarrassment blew away his afterglow. He stood at the desk, waiting for Michelle to emerge and finish offering her plan. Minutes later, he decided he couldn’t wait any longer and carefully draped Michelle’s body over his shoulders. Her head dangled down past his belly button. A flash of perverse pride crossed Richard’s mind, but he shoved it down. She was his wife, dammit, not his cock! He had to find out what happened.

It did not take him long to find the remnants of Michelle’s hair inside the bathtub and the wet trail leading into the bedroom. This was where it had happened, but how? Thinking hard was thirsty work. He turned on the faucet and filled a cup of water.

The sound of running water woke Michelle from her stupor, and the answer came to her in a flash. The bath, the moisture she’d rubbed on Richard’s skin. . .  each transformation started with water!

She flailed her head against Richard’s chest, trying to free herself from her foreskin. Richard’s hand soon came to her rescue, pulling her hood back just in time to reveal him raising the cup of tainted water to his lips.

Michelle lashed out, striking the cup with her head and knocking it to the floor. Richard jumped in surprise, then coughed. She watched in horror as he swallowed the mouthful he’d already taken.

When he finally stopped coughing, Richard glared at his wife. “Jeeze, Michelle! You nearly gave me a heart attack. What did that cup do to you anyway?”

A growing tingling in his mouth answered his question. She was trying to stop him from drinking the water.

And she’d failed.

The tingling grew into a burning buzz that enveloped everything from his lips to his esophagus. His stomach heaved. He leaned over the sink to vomit, and several of his teeth tinkled into the basin. In horror, he reached his fingers into his mouth. The slightest touch dislodged the rest of his teeth, and he spat them out like a mouthful of gravel. His face flushed, and all at once his mouth and throat squeezed in a strange, unnatural way. Sweat dripped down his blushing forehead as he waited for the transformation to complete itself, hoping and praying that it wouldn’t leave him a disfigured freak. Muscles inside his mouth gave a series of involuntary pulses that reminded him of post-orgasm contractions, and then relaxed and were still.

Everything inside his mouth felt terribly wrong. Slowly, he rose to face the mirror, fearing what he might find. To his relief, he looked the same. He breathed a sigh, and a bloom of flesh sputtered free from his lips. Meaty pink ribbons protruded from his lips like the lettuce of a skin sandwich. They were impossible to mistake. Inner labia.

Opening his mouth, Richard found its landscape radically altered. Gone were his teeth and gums. His tongue emerged from a tight opening that seemed to be the new back of his throat, though it was much closer to the front of his mouth than before. He slid a shaking finger through the unfamiliar folds and crevices. When it probed the opening, his tongue undulated and pulled his fingertip inside. He expected to gag but felt no such urge. The passage squeezed around the invading finger, coaxing it deeper. His thick digit filled his mouth pleasantly. He started pistoning the finger in and out of his mouth, eyes rolling back into his head. The bathroom filled with a wet slicking sound.

Michelle watched in a mix of horror and arousal as her husband finger-fucked his throat. She was numb to Richard’s body other than his balls and shaft, and she grew jealous of the attention his new hole was getting. All she could feel was an increase in Richard’s heart rate that made her cockhead face swell with a purple blush.

Richard pressed a second finger past his lips and gave a moan that mingled with an awkward queefing belch. A few strokes later, his knees buckled and his body gave a series of pleasured jerks that signaled his first female orgasm. His hand slurped free of his lips and dropped to the floor.

“Oh wow,” he sighed, “that was thumthing elth.”

He caught his wife’s gaze and blushed.

“Thanks for thaving me.”

Michelle looked at the floor. She’d been too slow.

Richard took hold of her head and turned her to face him. “Don’t be thad. Imagine what I’d look like if I’d thwallowed the whole glass. At leath I can thill talk.”

She looked at her husband. His lisp undermined the seriousness of his words, causing his inner labia to flirt past his lips each time he pronounced an S. He sucked them back inside. What an adorable oaf. She loved this man. Michelle leaned in and pressed her lips against his. Richard’s heart pounded in his chest, and he gave her head an appreciative stroke that felt very nice indeed.

Michelle’s tongue slipped past her lips and tasted his pussy, but he pulled away.

“What are we going to do?” he asked, looking very stressed.

Right. They were in a crisis. Michelle was embarrassed at how badly she’d misread the moment. She buried the invasive sexual thoughts long enough to form a plan and pointed toward the condo’s front door.

Richard followed her gaze. “Go to your parent’s house?”

She shook her head.

“The hospital?” he lisped. Hothpital.

She nodded. It was one thing being married to this dummy, but being attached to him? Freya help them. Richard stood, leaned over the sink, and drizzled a mouthful of pussy juice into the basin, apparently unable to swallow it. A square of TP got the rest.

“I’ll get dressed.” Drethed.

He settled on a pair of old sweatpants.

“In you go!” he said, lifting Michelle from his shoulders and lowering her into the darkness below.

What was he doing? She wasn’t some obscene body part to be hidden away. She was his wife! She pressed her head free from his waistband and glared.

“Just for a little while, I swear. Only in public.”

Begrudgingly, she sank back into his sweatpants. It’s not like he’d look weird waddling around with a beach-ball-sized bulge in his pants, but it was fine. Whatever. She didn’t exactly want to be seen like this anyway. Not that anyone would recognize her.

Dangling inside the cotton prison was extremely disorienting. Michelle grew dizzy. She coiled around his thighs and found that ignoring all the jostling and rubbing made things better. Soon she was placed on a surface and heard the slam of the car door.

She could have poked her head out during the car ride, but she was still too chuffed about the indignity of being shoved into his sweatpants like nothing more than a simple cock. These thoughts turned about in her mind for a little while. Then Richard’s hand reached down and pulled her into the light.

Unflattering fluorescent light illuminated the metal walls of a small room. Michelle was confused. How much time had passed? This wasn’t their car; it looked more like a bathroom stall. She looked down to see a giant toilet bowl inches from her face. 

“Hey honey,” Richard cooed. “How are you doing? Good?”

Michelle’s eyes bulged. She tried to retreat back to the safety of Richard’s sweatpants, but he held firm.

“I’m so thorry. I held it as long ath I could, but I really gotta go.”

He lowered her head down into the bowl, and no matter how hard she struggled, she couldn’t overpower him.

“I’m thorry!” he whispered.

Then she felt it. A rush of heat started in her base and swam up her length with an inevitable strength. There was no swallowing it. She shut her mouth in a final act of desperate defiance.

The urine shot out of her nose.

It didn’t burn, but she could certainly smell it. The torrent of acrid fluid splashed water from the toilet bowl into her face. She relaxed in defeat.

“There we go, just let it out,” he whisper-lisped. “I’m sorry. I had to go.”

She knew he had no choice, but that didn’t make it any less degrading. An eternity later, the flow slowed to a trickle. He held her in place for two final spurts of urine, and she did a reverse-swallow to produce another mouthful that she spat into the toilet.

Richard dabbed her face clean with toilet paper, whispering apologies and telling her how great she did, how brave she was, and so on. Michelle didn’t want to hear it. She sank back into his sweatpants, now with the salty, chlorinated-pool-water taste of urine on her tongue.

Back in the emergency waiting room, Richard found several of his neighbors from The Grand Karma. One resident he recognized only from his lime green pullover sweater. It was now stretched over several rows of large, wobbly breasts. His arms had become a pair of long, serpentine necks with salamander-like heads, and his original head had changed to match. The extra heads were still threaded through the arm-holes of his pullover, scrunching it up around his necks and pulling it up to reveal the bottom row of his new breasts. The center head looked worriedly around the room, while the other two licked at the dark nubs of his exposed nipples.

Megana Kinsey was there too. Richard considered saying hello, but the severe frown plastered on her mousy features told him she wanted to be left alone. Mr. Kinsey was nowhere to be seen. It was the first time he’d ever seen the two of them apart.

Richard was almost too ashamed of the bathroom experience to bring Michelle out when the doctors asked. The attending physicians administered a whole slew of tests, all the while hmming and ahhhing and jotting down notes. An older woman doctor took Michelle as far from Richard as she could reach and interviewed her. While his dick distantly twitched responses to a series of “yes” or “no” questions, another doctor, this one younger and male, asked him to open wide.

The doc shined a light and squinted at the pussy behind his blushing patient's lips. He produced a black rubber device that looked an awful lot like a dildo connected to the hand-pump of a blood pressure cuff. The doctor emptied a little tube of lubricant onto it and slid it into Richard’s mouth without a hint of pain. It was cold.

Richard glanced over to Michelle. She was watching her doctor slide a finger over a plaque with the alphabet on it, nodding when she pointed to the desired letter. He was glad she wasn’t watching his doctor stuff six inches of fake dick down his throat.

“Tap me on the hand when this gets uncomfortable,” his doctor instructed.

Richard, now worried, nodded obediently. The doctor repeatedly squeezed the little air bladder. With each pump, the shaft expanded further down his throat-pussy toward the base of his neck. A gloved hand over Richard’s mouth kept the shaft from sliding out. By the time Richard tapped the doctor’s hand, his chin was pointed to the ceiling, his eyes were watering, and his neck was visibly distended. The doctor withdrew the dildo without letting it deflate. Richard’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the sight of the forearm-sized shaft.

This time when he glanced over Michelle was looking, jaw hanging open in shock. He turned his eyes in shame.

The tests complete, Michelle’s doctor presented her final analysis. The changes were permanent, of course. They almost always were. The words had a grim finality that dropped rocks into Richard’s stomach. If Richard actually wanted to get rocks into his stomach, she explained, they’d have to enter by way of Michelle’s mouth. As the only one with a working throat, she would be the one eating for the two of them.

The doctor stood and gave Richard a handshake and Michelle a very professional touch on the cheek.

“It may be difficult, but you two will find a new normal,” she said with a warm smile. “Everyone adapts.”


Re: The Grand Karma

↜○○↝ Two Weeks Later ↜○○↝

Richard held the menu so Michelle could see it over his shoulder.

“What do you think? You want the thame as last time don’t you?”

Michelle nodded. Richard slurped the labia that had escaped with his lisp back into his mouth and closed the menu. Her job complete, Michelle coiled up in his coat’s fur-lined hood. The hood smelled like dick, a scent that she was already associating with comfortable, safe places. From here she could watch the scene play out in relative privacy.

The waitress approached wearing a smile like she’d just been handed a gift. Since the transformation, everyone they met seemed a little happier. It had taken Michelle a while to realize it had always been this way for Richard. Such was the life of a beautiful person.

After exchanging some exceptionally flirty pleasantries, she got down to business. “So what will you-- and your friend,” she said, nodding to the snake curled in his hood, “be having today?”   

“Not friend, wife.” Richard explained, being careful to avoid s-words.

“Oh!” She chirped, looking again. A moment later, she recognized Michelle’s phallic features and put two and two together. Her grin melted, and her face went pale.


Michelle had seen countless faces make the same transition in the past two weeks. Usually it was humiliating, but this time she was glad to see the flirty waitress set straight.

Richard cleared his throat. “We’ll have two large hot dogth--” he slurped his labia in. “Thank you.”

The waitress’s eyes bulged. “Of course, sir, and, uh, ma’am. Coming right up!” She hurried away.

When the hotdogs arrived, Michelle’s mouth filled with precum drool. She loved eating, and sausages had recently become her favorite food. It was less the taste and more the mind-numbing bliss that came with swallowing a big, meaty sausage. Richard pulled the hot dog from its bun, held it above his shoulder, and Michelle went to work sucking it down. She could have gummed the morsel into chunks, but she swallowed it whole. Everything about the experience was pure bliss: the way it stretched and tickled her urethra-esophagus all the way down to her base. It took a full minute of swallowing again and again to pull the food into Richard’s body, and every moment was build-up to a full-body orgasm.

Cumming was impossible as long as she was swallowing, but considering how hyper-sensitive she got after an orgasm, that was for the best. Eating always brought them right to the brink. Usually this meant a quick trip to the bathroom so Richard could finish into the toilet, or, if they were at home, she’d cum straight into his pussy-mouth.

This time, after dabbing away the grease and precum around her lips, he looked at his watch.

“Oh Jeeze. We’re running late for Ms. Bandister. Should we skip the trip to the restroom?” he lisped.

Michelle shook her head, nuzzling it into the crook of Richard’s neck for that extra bit of stimulation.

Richard stood and headed for the door. “Sorry, honey. We really, really can’t afford to miss this.”

Michelle was flabbergasted. How dare he! Couldn’t he feel how firm she was? How her veins throbbed with aching need? He should be stroking and caressing her, not dashing off. She could feel the ‘dogs winding their way down her length, around the coils in his hood and into his coat toward his crotch. She craved release, but not if it meant spewing cum in public!

Richard made a direct line for the subway station, pushing his way through the lunch-hour crowd. Michelle tapped her snout urgently against the back of his neck, but all he did was whisper an apology. That bastard!

It wasn’t like him to ignore her like this. The first week after the change, he kept the alphabet board out all day. He asked her what they should do, where they should go, what movie they should watch. It was exhausting. He switched mostly to simple yes-no questions this past week, much to her relief. Either way, he had always respected her answers. Until now. Michelle seethed with silent rage. How dare he ignore her like she was nothing but some unwanted erection!

The last of the food passed from Michelle’s body into Richard’s just as he crowded into the subway train. She wanted to press her face between his stupid, drooling lips or rub herself until she spewed all over the other passengers, but she despised acting cock-like in public. She curled into a tight coil and stayed as still as possible, waiting for the sexual urge to die down. How she hated doing this! She spent the rest of the trip to Ms. Bandister’s office plotting her revenge. 

The meeting with their insurance agent, Ms. Bandister, had been Michelle’s idea. She’d spent hours with Richard at the alphabet-board, painstakingly spelling out the perfect argument for how she had been sufficiently reduced to justify paying out her life insurance. Richard carried the whole thing in a manilla envelope, ready to whip it out if the agent gave them any trouble.

Ms. Bandister took one look at Michelle’s spongy cock-face and green-stamped the claim, no argument needed. Michelle wilted at the hollow victory. It was really that obvious, wasn’t it? The disappointment made the unfulfilled ache in their balls that much worse.

Payback for Richard’s snub came that evening. He slipped into bed, gave Michelle’s face-glans a kiss goodnight, and instantly fell asleep, as usual. It still bothered her how quickly he could drift off, perhaps even more now that she was no longer capable of sleep herself. Penises don’t sleep, it turned out. Instead, her mind had a way of skipping through dull, idle times. She remained semi-conscious during the skip, sensing things and having the occasional-- usually sexual-- thought, but it was all distant and detached until something interesting snapped her awake. This happened any time she got bored, and it took some effort not to let large chunks of the day slip away.

Normally she let the night skip by, but tonight was different. She laid her chin against one of her body’s more prominent veins and waited until the thrumming of Richard’s heartbeat slowed to that of deep sleep. Then, very carefully, she maneuvered to the bedside table, wrapped her mouth around his phone, and brought it back under the sheets with her. Only after setting several silent alarms did she allow her mind to skip.

A buzzing under her chin informed her when 1:00 AM had rolled around. During her skip, she’d been envisioning what role she would play in a foursome. The phone’s vibration sent a blissful tingle through her head. She opened wide and took the whole phone into her mouth. The alarm’s buzz was doubly intense from inside. She pictured a man forcing his enormous cock down her throat. She’d play her tongue up and down his urethra, around the swell of the head, giving pleasure like only a cock could. Between the phone, the fantasy, and a little practiced head-rubbing, it wasn’t long before she came.

With a twist of her back, she spewed a geyser of cum between Richard’s stomach and the sheets. She unleashed jet after jet around her bodymate, and the corners of her mouth lifted as much the pleasurable spasms allowed. Michelle spent her afterglow gleefully watching Richard wake up and realize he was laying in a puddle of his own cum. The chore of changing the soiled sheets was his alone. She was just a cock, after all.

“It’s okay, honey. You’ll get this under control thoon,” Richard muttered as he worked. “I believe in you.”

This upset Michelle. She wanted annoyed anger, not pity. She found herself regretting the prank and then getting frustrated at Richard for turning her victory into a mistake. Once the new sheets were in place, he lovingly wiped her head clean with an extra-soft tissue, gave her another kiss goodnight, and fell back asleep.

During all this, Michelle kept his phone concealed in her mouth. She let it slide free and laid still, waiting for the skip to come, resolving not to resort to any more passive-aggressive pranks.

This resolution lasted until 4:00 AM when the next vibrating alarm went off.

It wasn’t about getting back at Richard anymore. No, this time she was simply horny. She even made an attempt to minimize the mess by sprawing toward the edge of the bed, but it was less successful than she hoped. The sheets had to be changed again, and Richard didn’t say a word the entire time.

Things were cold between them the next day. Michelle skipped most of the daylight hours curled in Richard’s coat.

That evening, Richard reached into a shopping bag and pulled out a strip of condoms, each one as large as a saucer. At first, Michelle was amused by the sight of the comically oversized prophylactics, but her mood turned to dread when he tore one free and started opening it.

“I know, I know,” he said. “It’s just until you stop having wet dreams. Come here.”

Michelle retreated into the safety of her foreskin, but Richard grabbed her and peeled it back. She did her best to struggle, but he easily overpowered her, pressing her nose into the bubble at the condom’s tip and unrolling it over her body. A deeply-ingrained instinct to keep her airways clear screamed an alarm, but she calmed when she remembered that she hadn’t taken a breath in two weeks. Through the condom, the entire world looked like a reflection in a fogged-up mirror. She tried to slide free, but the rubber-band base gripped her belly tight.

Richard’s goodnight kiss felt distant through the latex sheathe.

Michelle was thoroughly humiliated. She must have looked ridiculous stuffed in a giant condom. It was completely undignified. The latex squeaked as she coiled up atop Richard’s crotch. It was an undignified way to treat a human, but a normal and acceptable way to treat a cock. And that was what she was now, wasn’t it? At least in part? A human could have resisted cumming in the sheets, she told herself. Maybe she deserved this.

No! That was a horrible thought. She wouldn’t let spending a few weeks, months, or even years as a cock rob her of her humanity.

However, the fact that she was already throbbing at the prospect of having a little midnight fun did not bode well.

↜○○↝ Eight Months Later ↜○○↝

Richard stood in front of the bathroom sink and brushed his new, plastic teeth. Memories of drinking that fateful cup of water eight months ago always came flooding back when he stood here. Michelle slithered over the counter  and dutifully rested her head on the toilet seat.

“Here it comes,” he lisped, relaxing his bladder. Michelle’s body stiffened as the stream of urine filled her, but she kept her face in the toilet bowl and didn’t spill a drop.

Richard’s physical relief mingled with gratitude. Those first few weeks of forcing Michelle’s face into the toilet every time he had to pee had been a deeply guilty experience. His bladder got painfully full every day. Once, he’d been unable to find a restroom in time. He shoved Michelle’s head into a planter and relieved himself. After that, Michelle’s resistance turned to helpfulness, and now urinating was even more convenient than it had been before he had a self-aiming, sentient cock. She even started using her tongue to redirect the stream of piss as a sort of game.

He inserted his fake teeth. It wasn’t comfortable, but they at least got rid of his lisp and kept his labia from escaping his lips. He left the water running so Michelle could rinse the taste of urine from her mouth. Now it was time to get dressed.

“So I figure we’ll go for a quick walk around the park, then head to work. That sound good?” Richard didn’t look away from the closet; he could feel her nod in response.

There was no hiding Michelle under a big fluffy coat in these hot summer months. The outfit of choice was a floral-print hawaiian shirt and a pair of specially-modified shorts. He guided Michelle between his legs and through the extra opening in the back of the pants. This way, she looked more like a chimera’s snake-tail than a cock, at least at first glance. A long sweater-like tube completed the disguise. The knit was loose enough that she could see through the holes, but tight enough that it was impossible for others to see the veins and bulbous, blushing face that marked her as a dick.

Before sliding Michelle into her sweater, he reached into the bedside drawer and lifted one of their oversized condoms.

“Think you’ll need one of these today?”

Michelle seemed to consider for a moment and then shook her head. This made Richard nervous, but he obeyed her wishes and stowed the condom.

“Alright, but no funny business, you hear me?”

She tilted her head as if to say ‘who, me?’ and Richard sighed. If it were up to him, she’d be wearing one every day. She seemed to be having a really difficult time controlling herself recently.

This was not precisely true.

Michelle had already decided she was going to fuck Richard in public today. These days, her acts of rebellion weren’t a matter of petty revenge. The winter months had been hard on her. Boredom and helplessness gave way to depression and hopelessness. But as spring rolled around and outfits started getting more revealing, she’d found a new hobby: exhibitionism.

She took her standard position draped over Richard’s shoulders, and he made his way out into the hustle and bustle of the city. From here, she had an excellent vantage point for peering down the cleavage of women. This had been one of the most startling revelations of spring: she was now attracted to women.

The subway was crowded, and Richard was left standing with a few other passengers. One of these was a stunningly-beautiful dark-skinned woman, probably headed to one of the fashion agencies or modeling studios uptown. She read a book on her phone, completely oblivious to Michelle’s stare. Michelle spent a moment appreciating the view offered by the plunging neckline of the woman’s powder-blue sun-dress, then unwound herself from Richard’s shoulders and ventured down his leg. Moving slowly, she slithered under the trim of the woman’s dress and peered upward. Her dark-red panties wrapped tight around the lips of her pussy.  A small bulge betrayed her abnormally-large clitorous. Michelle was willing to bet that was one secret the woman didn’t think she’d be sharing when she got dressed that morning.

Richard took a step backwards, yanking her away. He wrapped her around one of his arms. He’d caught her peeking again. The shame only stoked the embers of her arousal. She nuzzled against his hand, edging herself with subtle movements.

It took an incredible amount of willpower,  but she waited until they were in the middle of the park to start masturbating in earnest. Other park-goers noticed the strange movements of Richard’s “tail” as she rubbed against his body.

“No, honey, please!” he gasped in a mixture of surprise and pleasure. He was acting like he didn’t want this, but Michelle could read the truth in his heartbeat. She had only recently recognized the true power she held from her position as Richard’s cock: controlling their libido. Any time she got herself worked up, Richard started drooling with arousal and making irrational, horny-minded decisions.

He couldn’t stop her. Holding her head steady left the rest of her length free to writhe against his body. There was a line outside the nearest port-o-john, and so he was forced to wade into the brush of a nearby wooded area and hope no one noticed.

Richard sat with his back against a tree, popped out his fake teeth, and plunged two fingers into his mouth. As he sucked, all sorts of emotions crossed his face: annoyance, embarrassment, relief, sexual bliss. The hand that wasn’t pumping between his lips yanked Michelle’s knitted sweater loose, grasped her behind the head, and started jerking her off.

She loved to see him this way, reduced to nothing more than a helpless quivering mass, hastily hidden and just barely out of sight. A group of park goers jogged along a trail that ran mere feet from where they were sitting. Would they hear his helpless, whimpering moans or smell the scent of sex? The possibility only made the situation that much hotter.

Michelle waited until Richard’s juices dribbled down his chin. He was ready. It started as a kind of kiss. She pressed her lips against his, turning her head head and opening her mouth so their tongues could play together. This was always a pleasure, and likely doubly so for Richard since he could feel both sides of the equation. She liked to draw this phase out, tease him a little. Then, when she couldn’t resist the urge any longer, she shut her mouth dove forward, forcing herself past Richard’s lips.

She was inside. It was a sightless, soundless void of pure and total pleasure. Richard’s lips slurped over her cheeks, lathering her face in a coat of femlube. She pushed her nose against the vaginal opening hidden in her husband’s mouth, stretching it around her head until the ridge of her glans popped inside with a starburst of bliss. She knew she could press further down his throat, but the initial penetration was so delightful she often spent her time passing in and out of that muscular ring.

Outside, Richard grabbed hold of her body and used her like a giant, living dildo. Michelle relaxed and enjoyed the ride, trying to prolong the experience by thinking of boring things like paperwork, meetings, and other un-sexy things from her before-life. Those memories grew harder to recall every day.

When she felt her climax coming, she opened her jaws wide, stretching the velvety flesh of Richard’s passage and lodging herself inside. This was mostly a reflex, but it also kept Richard from yanking her free at the best part. He moaned loudly. The vibrations sent flickers of bliss down Michelle’s spine as her urethra worked to pull a hot load of semen the reverse direction. The first jet was much larger than normal. His throat-passage spasmed rhythmically as it filled with his own cum. Her face was submerged, and she could feel the excess cum running along the outside of her body in the cool air. Re-swallowing some of the jizz might have prevented a mess, but she always loved hearing Richard invent excuses to explain the damp spots on his clothes.

Finally, the orgasm petered off, and Richard pulled her free. She popped into the blinding light of day, followed by a gush of fresh cum. Richard tried to catch his breath, making wholling undignified gurgling and queefing sounds all the while. Most of the cum in his throat splattered onto the ground in stringy dollops, but he would be dabbing the edges of his mouth with a handkerchief for the next few hours. It only took one person noticing an errant dribble of semen to form that habit.

“Did you hear that?” came the voice of a woman on the trail. She was so close, Michelle could have slithered over and touched her. Richard held his breath and grabbed her head as if he was worried she’d do just that.

“Probably just a bird or raccoon or something,” said her friend. “Let’s go.”

Richard looked at her with a distraught, yet satisfied look his eyes.

“Why, Michelle?”

Michelle opened her mouth as if to speak, and a glob of semen rolled down her chin.

There’s your reason, Michelle thought. Because I’m a big, throbbing cock, and that’s what cocks do.

↜○○↝ Two Years Later ↜○○↝

“Black or blue?” Richard asked, holding two suit jackets like a human balance-scale. He returned the black coat to the closet without waiting for a response.

“Good point, honey. Blue is more fun, and this is supposed to be a fun night.”

Michelle did not have an opinion on the color of Richard’s suit, and he knew it. She had gradually stopped answering most of those yes-no questions, and Richard had started making his own decisions. Over the past year Richard’s constant requests for Michelle’s input had transformed into a sort of verbalized internal monologue that continued nonstop whenever they were alone. Michelle was glad she no longer had to form opinions on tedious things like which job should he take and which condo should they move into, but she sometimes wished he’d just stay quiet, that she hadn’t stopped him from drinking that glass of tainted water. Sometimes.

Not that she was wholly disconnected from the parts of Richard’s life that didn’t involve masturbation, eating, or peeing. It had tended toward that direction recently, but tonight he had surprised her with a very interesting announcement.

He was going on a date.

“I think you’re really going to like her,” continued the unceasing monologue as Richard popped in his teeth. He lifted up the toilet seat. Michelle lowered herself from his shoulders and slithered toward the door.

Richard gave an exasperated sigh. “Come on, honey we really don’t have time for this tonight.” He grabbed the base of her shaft and pulled her hand-over-hand until he held her head. This he shoved into the toilet and held still until a stream of yellow urine flowed from Michelle’s nostrils.

“I really thought we had this down. Bad girl.”

The scolding made Michelle throb with excitement. She didn’t mind the act of peeing, but she loved when Richard degraded her. It was the latest kink in her ever-expanding collection of deviancy. As with the rest, it would eventually pass to Richard. Perhaps he’d ask his date to scold him in the after-meal fuck that was bound to happen. After all, you didn’t date a guy with a sentient cock unless you’re hoping he’d invite you up to the apartment after.

Richard gave Michelle a kiss and carefully coiled her down into his slacks with the specially-enlarged groin. They didn’t hide the fact that he was transformed, but they at least kept people guessing exactly what kind of equipment he was packing in that bulge.

“I’m not using a condom tonight. If you’re good, I’ve got a super special surprise for you. Trust me, you’ll love it.”

Wrapped in her cotton cocoon, Michelle took a moment to reflect on the date’s significance. This meant that Richard had “moved on.” He was looking for a new relationship. He hadn’t even asked her permission, at least not that she could remember. Man and wife were now man and body part. Two years ago, the idea would have horrified her, but tonight she was glad. She was eager for company.

The next thing she knew, a streak of light ripped through the blackness as Richard unzipped. The sound of clinking dishes, subdued music, and people conversing flooded in. They were at the restaurant.

She tentatively poked her nose free of his slacks and found herself under a square table. A white tablecloth extended halfway to the floor, offering privacy that she would have appreciated at one point in her life. However, she was not fully alone. A pair of feminine legs protruded from the other side of the tablecloth. Dark pantyhose stretched from a pair of shiny flats up into a black slip dress that was stretched over an impressively wide set of hips. It was Richard’s date.

Michelle grew curious. Richard and this mystery woman were whispering to each other above the table, but she couldn’t make out the words. Her voice sounded familiar, but Michelle couldn’t place it. Judging the muffled giggles-- and the woozy way Michelle’s sense of balance lagged behind her movements-- they’d already had a couple drinks, and things were going well.

Richard’s side of the table cloth lifted, and a fork with a large meatball hovered to Michelle’s face. She slurped it with her usual gusto, rolling the juicy sphere around her tongue as lubricating precum welled up her throat. She swallowed it and the next few meatballs with increasing eagerness. Her head swelled with extra blood, and she found herself staring at the strange woman’s crossed, panty-hosed legs. What secrets was that black dress hiding?

Then, as though Richard had found his date on a psychics-only website, the woman’s legs unfolded. A feminine hand with long nails painted blood-red reached under the table and made a beckoning gesture. Michelle froze in disbelief, and for a moment the only movement under the table were the meatballs delightfully snaking their way down her length. She ventured forward until her nose tapped against the waiting hand. The woman’s fingers gently caressed her head, tracing her glans and exploring the folds of her foreskin. Above the table, she gave an impressed coo, and Richard mumbled something low and gravely.

Michelle felt like she was in a dream.

As the meatballs passed into the coils in Richard’s pants, the woman’s touching paused. She scooted down in her chair so that her hips were under the tablecloth. Her index finger traced an S-shaped trail between Michelle’s eyes to the tip of her nose, then pointed down toward her crotch. Michelle couldn't believe what was happening, but she didn’t need a second invitation. She slithered over the woman’s hand and dipped her head into the dark cave of the woman’s slip. Her pantyhose buzzed against Michelle’s veins. Richard’s voice grew urgent, and he reached under the table and grasped Michelle. The woman date murmured something. He released her.

Yes, Michelle thought, she is as eager as I am! Of course no amount of horniness would allow a normal woman to take Michelle’s impressive girth, but this didn’t discourage her. She ran her hyper-sensitive tongue over her lips, smearing them with precum. Eating the woman out would be quite pleasurable for the both of them. She’d had plenty of practice.

The date spread her legs and pulled up her skirt, illuminating the cave. Michelle caught sight of the woman’s pussy. The woman’s pussy caught sight of her.

A pair of green, human eyes opened sleepily above woman’s slit. Upon seeing Michelle, they snapped wide and stared in shock. The vulva below the eyes twitched in surprise. It was massive. Sausage-like Inner labia, blushing the color of raw liver, protruded from pussy lips the size of hamburger buns. Its muscular jerk made a soft, wet sound. A droplet of fragrant fem-lube landed between Michelle’s eyes.

Michelle licked her forehead clean and wondered how she looked to this pussy. Her black, lidless orbs lacked the pussy’s human expressiveness. They gave no hint that there was anything more than an animal’s simple, instinct-driven brain behind them. Considering what she was about to do, perhaps that was for the best.

She slithered closer, and the eyes glanced about in obvious panic. The meaty folds below fluttered and jumped as if she-- or he, or whoever was trapped between the woman’s legs-- was trying to beg her to stop. All this motion spread a sheen of fluid over the pussy’s folds that only served to entice Michelle. Her new friend appeared to be much newer to being a part of someone else’s body, but she would teach her. Lesson one: It didn’t matter what she wanted. She was just a pussy, and her owner had already consented.

Michelle extended her fat, wide tongue and ran it up between the pussy’s swollen labia, ending with a gentle nibble of the raspberry-sized clit at the top. The musky, fishy taste of womanhood. The green eyes rolled back in bliss, and Michelle took heart. They would both enjoy this.

Before anyone above the table had a chance to change their mind, Michelle set her nose at the glistening base of the vulva. Then, as if welcoming her, the pussy winked. Not the eyes, but the pussy itself. It drew up, opening the fleshy lips like a starving mouth. Michelle took the invitation, pressed forward, and slid inside.

The date’s pussy was not nearly as tight as the one in Richard’s mouth, but it made up for this with extraordinary strength. Concentric bands of muscle gripped Michelle behind the head and pulled her inside with a muffled slurp. Michelle slid her tongue up and down the slick and spongy walls as she pressed deeper into the clenching, twitching tunnel. Beneath the table, the two ex-humans entered a separate, private little world where all logic and social conscience were swapped for simple ecstasy and lust.

Above the table, Richard and Megana stared deep into each other's eyes, panting through open mouths as their once-spouses got re-acquainted with each other. They gripped handfulls of tablecloth, trying not to moan too loud. One of the suited professional-types at the table next to them whispered something to his associate, who ventured a furtive glance in their direction before breaking into an awkward chuckle.

Richard, who had long ago caught Michelle’s early penchant for exhibitionism, found the humiliation of being noticed all the more exciting. He started sucking on his thumb. Across the table, Megana’s eyes were locked absently forward as muscles all through her body twitched with bliss.

Richard was a little embarrassed at how quickly he came. The moment the last meatball passed from Michelle’s body into his own, his balls lifted and shot a torrent of cum deep into Megan. Her jaw dropped, her eyelids fluttered, and she heaved a guttural moan. Conversation in the restaurant went silent. All eyes turned to them. Richard could hear the pitter patter of globs of cum dripping onto the tile floor below.

When they finally stood to leave the restaurant, people stared and pointed at the large, moist patches on their crotches. The smell had long since driven the nearby tables away. Shame drizzled down Richard’s inner thigh, and he frowned thinking about just how far from normal he had fallen. Seeing this, Megan wrapped her arm around his waist and pulled him into a kiss. The new couple held hands as they walked out of the restaurant and into their new life together.

Beneath their clothes, their genitals stirred. They would soon discover that new partners were their old rivals, but they wouldn’t care. It only mattered that they were getting laid. Typical thoughts for sexual organs.

↜○○↝ Three Years Later ↜○○↝

Richard wondered what was happening.

He stood naked in the center of The Grand Karma’s penthouse. Surrounding him, sitting on couches and chairs and standing when there wasn’t room, were forty-five other people, all nude, many of them transformed. They murmured excitedly to each other. Some readied their phones for filming while others were already stroking their cocks and/or teasing their pussies. Anderson and Jan were fucking openly, but even they were engaged doggy-style so they could watch.

These were the members of The Grand Karma Sex Society. It started on Megana and Richard’s second date when she invited Brent from suite 803 to join them in a threesome. Poor Brent had been reduced to a pile of breasts and penises after taking his nightly shower in the tainted water, and she had been acting as his caretaker. Megana explained that it hardly counted as a threesome since he was more of a sex toy than a person at that point, and Richard had agreed. It was a titillating dynamic. At least at first.

When the novelty wore off, they invited other transformed residents to join them. When they ran out of people from the building, Megana and Richard invited outside perverts to join them. Now each orgy was a chaotic, twisting heap of transformed flesh, something from the paintings of the eternal rut of Karma’s realm. Keeping things interesting was a kinky sort of arms race, with Michelle always leading the way, always pushing Richard out of his comfort zone and dragging him to new levels of depravity.

A little uncertainty was titillating, but this time Richard was completely in the dark. Megana held Michelle’s head and placed something cold and delicate into her mouth. It vibrated with a living, energy, like an insect trapped in a cage. Michelle curled toward Richard and spat the object into his hand. It was a glass vial, filled with a quivering, pearlescent liquid.

“Demon cum?” he asked. Michelle locked eyes with him and gave a single nod. It was a request, a dare.

The intelligence in Michelle’s gaze surprised him. It had been so long since she’d sown interest in anything but sex, he’d assumed her brain had been fully replaced with spongy cockflesh.

Richard looked down at the thimble-sized vial in his hand. He embraced the spiral of their lives into depravity, but this was crazy. There had been an inkling growing in his mind that it had to end this way. It came in flashes in the heights of lust, during orgasms, images of his own body shifting and twisting into something just as lewd as what his wife had become. The thoughts were not his own, but he felt drawn to them nonetheless.

Could he do it?

Richard gave Michelle a final kiss, uncorked the phial, and swallowed the demon-cum. It had the same musky taste as normal semen, but stronger and with an efervescent quality that tickled his pussy-throat on the way down. This tickle quickly spread throughout his body. Their fate, whatever it was, had been sealed.

The other members of the sex club chattered, cheered, and moaned as they watched the changes take hold of their most handsome member. Richard wasn’t even sure what they were reacting to until a lock of his hair drifted past his face. He was going bald. Moments later, every hair on his body sat in a small pile at his feet, leaving him completely hairless from head to toe. The gravity of his decision sank in, and a pang of anxiety and regret welled in his chest. He leaned forward and tried to push the d-cum from his pussy-mouth, but not a drop escaped.

His nipples grew erect, and there was the strangest sensation of pressure growing under them, like someone was pumping air into his chest. His areola expanded into large bumpy patches as his nipples swelled from hardly noticeable bumps to womanly, then motherly, than inhumanly large teats. A pillow of breast tissue billowed beneath, the sudden weight pulling his chest down to the ground. Richard groped his rapidly swelling jugs only to find that they were already more than a handful. This was due not only to their size but also a shortening and thickening of his fingers.

“Paws?” he muttered, watching his thumbs recede into his wrists. This shocked declaration would be his last word.

All over his body, pleasured spasms of change competed for his attention. For the second time in his life, he lost track of what he was. Glimpses offered him some hints as to his final form: a cracking of his spine caused him to pitch forward and catch himself on his new paws. The fall sent his breasts jostling, the originals and newly forming ones below. His guts tied themselves in knots as Michelle, his asshole, and his balls twisted into some new, unfamiliar configuration. He tried to crane his neck to see but found he had no neck to turn.

The strangest sucking sensation pulled Richard’s head into his shoulders.  Eyes, ears, and nose were lost in an instant. Richard’s jaw relaxed and was reabsorbed, leaving his mouth-pussy hanging open so all could see its own extreme transformation. His inner labia blossomed free as they swelled from delicate ribbons into curtains of plump, rubbery flesh. His former lips went limp and split vertically, becoming nothing more than a puffy labial pad to frame the massive, engorged pussy that had replaced his head.

The thought that he would now be able to take even larger cocks made his pussy quiver and rumble a bass, guttural queef that the spectators felt as much as heard. A stream of femcum dribbled down his chest and dripped from the tip of a teat-like nipple. Behind him, Michelle was being stroked by someone. His balls, balls that felt extraordinarily large and heavy, lifted ponderously before shooting what felt like a gallon of cum up Michelle’s length.

Michelle was lost to the ecstasy of transformation. The torrent of cum forced its way past her pathetic reverse-swallows, bursting forth onto the woman who’d been bold enough to risk giving the transforming creature a hand-job. She was so covered, Michelle thought she looked like a scoop of vanilla ice cream that had been left out in the sun.

Post-orgasm clarity, what little there was these days, delivered Michelle into disbelief. Disbelief that Richard had actually gone through with it. Disbelief shifted into relief that she seemed relatively unchanged and matured into a powerful curiosity about what kind of creature she was now connected to.

The cum-drenched woman must have anticipated this, because she turned Michelle’s head to face a nearby mirror. She hadn’t gotten off as unchanged as she thought. Her own body had received an equine makeover, complete with raised medial ring, pink and brown mottled skin, and a trumpet-shaped flare that ended at the back of her skull, giving her a cobra-like look. Her length was about the same, but she was thicker, about the same radius as a thigh.

Her body now extended from the base of Richard’s spine like a vulgar cock-shaped tail. Nestled below, in the crook of their connection, puckered a large, equine asshole that protruded several inches past their cheeks. This she found that she could flex at will, and, judging from the jolts of pleasure that rocketed down her length with each movement, it was just as sensitive as the pussy she’d had as a human. Hanging in a dark-skinned sack just below were a pair of bowling-ball sized testes. These too were now under Michelle’s control, though their motions were limited to lifting and churning.

Richard hadn’t gotten off so easy.

Her bodymate had been reduced to a sexualized beast. His overall shape was like a lion’s, but his four-legged stance had reversed during the transformation, leaving his paws facing toward Michelle’s side of the body. Cementing the impression that she was now at the front of their body, was the prominent sex that sat where Richard’s neck should have started. A clitorous not much smaller than a woman’s fist peered from the folds, the rear-most point of their new body. Flamboyant curtains of pink pussyflesh formed a vulva as beautiful to Michelle’s eyes as any flower. The mighty lips winked open and slapped shut several times. An attempt at speech? The best Richard could manage was another deep queef that roused chuckles from the audience.

Above the pussy sat a small, fleshy tail, always curled up and back, presenting their sex (not that the small length would have any hope of covering it). Richard flicked the tail over their clit sending a shock of sensation through their body that was so intense they nearly collapsed. The pendulum-swing from their three pairs of breasts sent them off balance a second time.

Megana walked to the center of the room, her own oversized pussy squishing with each step. She stood next to the new creature and raised her arms to silence the crowd.

“Richard is no more.” She announced. Several transformees nodded their heads in grave agreement. “This creature is our newest full-time pet: Rochelle! Let’s give her the kind of welcome only the Grand Karma can!”

Michelle learned several things about their new body during the ensuing orgy. For one, she was now in control of their legs. She was so unused to moving about with limbs, she tripped several times in the undulating sea of flesh. Another discovery was that their nipples were the perfect size for adult mouths. The first woman who tried sucking one arose licking droplets of milk from her lips and proclaimed the milk they gave was absolutely delicious. After that, there were always at least one partygoer suckling at their teats. Michelle even wrapped around to try some herself and found that their sweet, warm cream lived up to its reputation.

The whirlwind of fucking and sucking lasted so long, only a heavily transformed cock monster could truly enjoy it. Eventually Michelle was exhausted, and her flared head popped free from some massive pussy followed by a drizzle of cum. She cracked her eyes to see that it was Richard’s own “mouth” she had been inside. Dried bodily fluids caked on their skin. Michelle found herself being pulled partially into her new sheathe, leaving just her head exposed above their asshole.

It was dark outside, and the penthouse was empty save themselves and Megana.

“Did you have fun, dear?” Megana asked Michelle. She made a slow lap around ‘Rochelle’s’ new body, pausing to pinch one of Richard’s labia and to heft one of Michelle’s balls using both of her hands. She gave Michelle a long, romantic kiss on her mottled-pink lips. “You’re going to love being our new pet. Now come. It’s time to go home.”

Michelle’s massive balls churned with uncertainty. It had been so long since she made any decisions at all, she latched onto the simplicity of Megana’s command, and awkwardly padded after their new owner. Richard quivered behind and wagged their tail, trying to communicate. What, she didn’t know. Happiness? Excitement? She hoped he didn’t regret the decision, but she knew he would grow to love being a pussy. Eventually.

Megana was a caring but strict owner. Rochelle was expected not to make a mess in a room without a drain, and to always stay close enough to touch when on leash. These leashes were affixed either to a thick brass ring that was pierced through Richard’s clitoral hood, or, occasionally, to Michelle’s new prince Albert. Michelle had hated the piercings at first, but she learned to appreciate the pleasure they could offer when tweaked at a key moment during sex.

With Richard relegated to a sexual organ and Michelle’s mind conditioned to follow any order that came their way, their life became a simple routine. They were happy as long as there was love to be made.

And lovemaking was never in short supply at The Grand Karma.

The End

(Author’s note: Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment with your thoughts, be they good or evil. I’d love to hear them!)