Transformations - Rose Ch. 04

Constance nodded as she sucked. Jason, use me. Make me do this, Jason. Women like to be forced. You want to force me.

His fingers curled in her hair.

Make me, Jason.

"Fuck," he groaned. He pushed his cock deeper in her throat, pulling her head forward.

Yes, Jason. I'm a whore, treat me like one.

"Yeah," he whispered. "Take it deep... you slut."

Constance moaned as his cock went deep.

He reached down and pulled her hand away from his dick. "No hands... bitch."

Constance thrilled at his words. She had done this! She had made him harder, more dominant. She was getting wetter.

"Oh, goddamn," Jason groaned as she took him balls deep.

"Perfect, Constance," Sugar whispered. "Make him fuck you now."

She pulled out and rose up his body. "I need it, Jason. Fuck me. Please fuck me."

He smiled at her and picked her up.

Jason sat her on the edge of the sink.

"Hard. Fuck me hard, Jason. Take me," Constance laughed.

He grabbed her ankles and pulled her legs up. She rested her ankles on his shoulders.

The sink was the perfect height.

She felt his cock head at her entrance. "Oh, Jason. Give it to me!"

He rubbed it up and down her cunt lips. "You want this?"

"Yes, please, Jason. I want it." Make me beg, Jason. Women should be begging to be fucked by you. Degrade me.

A smile crossed his face. "Beg for it, you cunt!"

"Oh, yes, darling. Unnh, please Jason. Fuck me like a slut. Make me your whore!"

"You want this big cock, whore?"

"Fuck yes! Please, Jason. Give it to me."

"Nasty fucking slut," he said and pushed his cock inside her.

"Ooo, baby, yes!"

He pumped slowly into her.

Constance's eyes rolled back. She was going to... and she did. "Cumming! Jason, you're making me cum!"

Jason laughed. "Cum, slut."

Her body was spasming and her pussy milked him, wanting his cum. "Cum in me. Please, Jason. Now, do it now."

"Aiggh!" He cried out and went stiff.

She laughed as she felt him pump inside her.

He was breathing hard, his cock throbbing.

"So good, darling, so very good," she whispered.

His cum kept spurting, as only a young man's could.

Jason collapsed against her and she kissed his face, his neck.

"Name. What's your name?"

Constance laughed. "Oh... I never even told you, did I?"

"No," he whispered against her neck.

"Constance, darling. My name is Constance."

Sugar stood behind him. She touched his temple. "Sleep boy."

He went limp in Constance's arms.

Sugar pulled him away and laid him gently on his back on the floor.

"Wow, you are strong," Constance groaned. Her pussy was tingling from the hard fuck.

Sugar laughed. "So, are you. You just haven't realized it yet. You could pick him up and carry him if you wanted."

"Shut up! Are you serious?"

Sugar stood up and pointed down at him. "Try it."

Constance got down on the floor. Cum dripped from her pussy onto the tile floor. "Oops. Some janitor is going to be cursing me."

She put her arms under the sleeping boy and lifted.

She stood up holding him to her breast. "Holy shit!"

"Comes in handy sometimes."

Constance laid him back down.

"I'll be back. Let me get Demona, and we'll decide what to do with your toy. Might want to lock up behind me," Sugar said as she left them naked in the restroom.

***

Sugar stepped out into the store.

Asmodea was sitting in the lounge area.

"Have you seen Demona?" Sugar asked.

"I think she went in the salon."

Sugar walked into the hair salon.

Demona was standing in the waiting area holding a scalpel in her right hand. She had it pointed at a hair stylist and her client.

"What the actual fuck?" Sugar asked.

"Well, about fucking time," Demona growled.

"What are you doing?"

The hair stylist was shaking. "She... she did something to Doris. I'm calling the cops!"

"You, quiet. Sleep," Sugar said.

The hair stylist's eyes rolled into the back of her head and she crumpled to the floor.

The woman in the chair, a middle aged woman wearing a sundress opened her mouth to scream.

"Oh, no, you don't. Silence," Sugar said.

The woman opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

"Masturbate, you horny slut."

The woman's eyes bulged. She threw her thighs apart. The sundress rose up on her hips, exposing the crotch of her white cotton panties. She wrenched the panties to the side, exposing her pussy in a mass of wiry black pubes.

"And, for fuck's sake, keep that beaver shaved from now on, you troglodyte."

The woman began massaging her clit with two fingers as she threw her head back.

Sugar looked down as Demona put her scalpel back in the medical bag. "Thanks, I didn't know what I was going to do. They saw Doris here and freaked out."

There was a woman sitting in the chair beside Demona.

Doris was tall and thin with jet black shoulder length hair. She looked to be in her late twenties with high, proud breasts and long thin legs.

She was dressed, well, ridiculously. She was wearing an old, threadbare dress that looked like it had been bought new at Macy's fifty years ago. She had on support hose and orthopedic shoes.

There was an oxygen canula in Doris's nose.

"Won't be needing this anymore," Demona announced as she removed the canula. "Those lips need lipstick. Red, I think."

Sugar stared at the woman. "Oh, fuck. How old is Doris?"

"I dunno. Eighty-fiveish."

"Demona! Have you lost your mind?"

Demona sighed. "Look, Sugar. You fuckers made me into a raving lunatic, but goddamn it, I am still a doctor. She was dying."

"Of course, she was - she's older than the Titanic."

"Not quite."

"Asmodea is going to..."

"Fuck me," Asmodea said as she stepped into the room. She turned quickly and shut the doors to the salon. There were blinds on the doors and she pulled them down and twisted the lock. "What have you done?"

"Cured Doris here of old age, osteoporosis, emphysema, heart disease, gave her a great set of tits, a supermodel's ass. Now, if Sugar here can make her a lesbian who loves dark, satanic heavy metal, she'll be the perfect woman."

Asmodea simply pointed at the unconscious hair stylist. "Actually, I just wanted to know if she was dead, and why June Cleaver over there is rubbing one out. But, since you brought up the old lady, are you fucking insane?!"

Demona rolled her eyes. "Fuck you. Fuck you both."

Asmodea started to say something.

"Enough," Sugar said. "Both of you. Nothing here we can't fix. I'll handle all this." She pointed at Demona. "You, troublemaker, take your bag of tricks over to the family restroom. Constance is building a boy toy gigolo. Give him a third leg and raging hormones. Make him pre-whoremaster like Donny and Jimmy. No powers, just pheromones. I'll be over to help cook his brain after I finish."

Asmodea stamped her foot. "A pre-whoremaster? I forbid this!"

"You! Shush," Sugar said. "You can report me to the Church when this is all done, but right now, you stay out of my way. Go read a magazine or something."

Asmodea stared at her wide eyed. "You imperious bitch!"

Sugar looked down at the thin nun. "I swear to God, I will smother you to death with my boobs if you don't get the fuck out of here."

Asmodea gritted her teeth. "Fine. I'll wait in the lounge. All of this is on your head, Sugar."

Sugar feinted a lunge at her and Asmodea cringed. "Scoot."

Asmodea turned around, unlocked the door, and went back to the lounge.

"Nicely done, big boobs," Demona said.

Sugar pointed at her without looking at her. "You. Family restroom. Now."

Demona grinned. "Gonna smother me with your boobage too?"

Sugar sighed. "Go."

"Fine. You know, you're on a power trip, babe."

Sugar slapped her ass as she passed by.

"Ow! Only in bed, bitch!" She rubbed her ass cheek as she went out the door.

"Oh, oh," the middle-aged woman in the styling chair began to moan.

"Don't cum," Sugar said as she began rewiring the woman's brain.

The woman whined and rubbed her clit harder.

"Oh, fuck it, might as well have some fun," Sugar said with a smile. "Hmm," she delved into the woman's mind. "Forty-four, divorced, no kids, no boyfriend. Fine."

Sugar closed her eyes. "Lesbian -- trust me, I'm doing you a favor. Completely in love with your hairdresser. And, go."

The woman almost jumped out of her chair and began kissing the sleeping hairdresser. "Tina? Tina, wake up. I love you."

"It's okay, honey, just make love to her. She'll love it."

The woman giggled as she pulled down Tina's yoga pants and began kissing her pink panty crotch.

Sugar sat down and took Doris's hand. "Ok, dear, as for you..." She reached inside the woman's mind. Nine decades of memories flooded into her. "Fuck. Oh, wow." History flashing by. Milton Berle on a tiny black and white TV. Kissing Lou on the front porch. Fucking in a '47 Ford. Fucking in a '57 Chevy. Love.

The Beatles. Woodstock. "Woodstock? Way to go Doris." Lou on their wedding night. Lou carrying her across the threshold of their first house. Lou crying with her after miscarriage one, and two, and three, and four, and no, please, no more. Lou growing old before her eyes. Lou coughing. Dying. Gone.

Sugar let go of her hand and sobbed. A lifetime in a flash, and that's all the normals were, a flash and then gone.

"Now, what do I do with you?" Tall enough for a street whore, definitely pretty enough. She closed her eyes. "Doris. Named after your grandmother. You were born in 1995. Got in some trouble, need to lay low. Grandma died, but she gave you her ID and her bank account. You just act like you're her."

The woman slept peacefully as she absorbed the new identity. Now, what? Make her a stripper? A high-priced call girl? Sugar smiled.

No. There were advantages to being so far away from the Church, from its influence. We are his true hand, Constance had said. His hand... Morpheus's hand. In the end, would the future of the world lie in the hands of the White Witches? And, if so, what would they do with it?

"Find a job, Doris. Marry some nice guy who adores you the way Lou loved your grandmother. Don't look back. Get up, walk out of here, go buy some new clothes. Have a nice eternity, Doris."

Sugar stood up.

Doris opened her eyes. "I... did I doze off?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, I was talking to a doctor."

"She had another patient."

"Oh." She turned and looked at the woman moaning on the floor.

"Just ignore that. Don't you have someplace to be?"

Doris shook her head to clear it. "Yes, I do. I need to go get some new clothes." She smiled sweetly. "You have beautiful eyes."

"Thank you, Doris."

"Goodbye."

"Goodbye," Sugar said and reached into her purse. "Oh, and Doris?"

"Yes?"

She handed her a card. "If you ever get into trouble, call us or just come in. Ask for Sugar."

Doris looked at the card and smiled a little. "Stallion's Adult Video?"

"Your one stop sex shop."

Doris laughed and put the card in her purse. "Thanks."

Sugar watched the woman walk to the door, straight and tall.

Doris laughed a little as she tugged up the support hose. "What on earth was I thinking wearing these things?"

She went out the door.

Sugar smiled. Sometimes it was good to do something good. And, maybe that's what they should be doing.

"Mmm, Tina, your pussy tastes so wonderful," the middle-aged woman moaned.

The hairdresser opened her eyes. "Oh, what the fuck?"

"Darling! You're awake!" the middle-aged woman said.

"Get off me..."

Sugar rolled her eyes. Yes, she could do good... sometimes.

But evil fuckery was not so bad either. "No. She's the love of your life, Tina. Fuck each other's brains out for a few minutes, and then go get married, it's legal here. Explore a BDSM relationship. Tina, you love to be spanked. You, older lady, look up lactation on the internet. There are drugs you can take to cause your milk to come in. Tina, you really get off nursing her. Makes you wet as fuck."

Sugar turned and walked to the doors. "Oh, and absolutely nothing happened here, except the two of you got down and nasty for a few hours. We were never here."

***

Constance opened the door when Demona knocked.

The doctor laughed at the sight of the unconscious boy on the tile. "Busy morning?"

Constance laughed and locked the door after Demona. "I think I burnt out his batteries."

Demona reached down and fingered Constance's dripping gash. "Dripping cum, you nasty slut." She winked and knelt on the floor beside Jason. "Now, what are we doing with junior stud muffin? Sugar said to make him a pre-whoremaster."

Constance sat cross legged on the floor beside them. "I don't have a clue what that is."

"Whore Masters, like Ray, have limited mental powers. They can hypnotize prey and begin their conversion. Takes a White Witch or the Slutz-Net computer to finish the bimbification. Whoremasters are built as fuck, seventeen-inch cock, and powerful pheromones to lure in prey.

"Pre-whoremasters have no mental powers. No bigger than a thirteen-inch cock, though Sugar cheated a little on that one with her boy, Jimmy. They're ripped, but not tanks like Ray. The only way they have to seduce, other than their innate charms and the beautiful dick, is their pheromones. We usually make young men Jason's age into pre-whoremasters until they grow a brain and can handle the mental powers." She ran her finger down Jason's thigh. "He's pretty. Coming from a devout lesbian like me, that's a real compliment."

Constance stroked his cock.

"You should see him fuck. He's a machine."

"Hmm, I wonder if Sugar would kill me..." Demona wondered out loud.

"What?"

Demona looked at her and chortled. "Asmodea will shit -- but fuck that penguin." She opened her bag and took out a vial of black fluid.

"What is that?"

"I call it Magic Charlie."

"Magic Charlie?"

"After Manson. I started to call it Damian, but I just like the sound of Magic Charlie."

"Demona, what are you talking about?"

Demona waved the bottle in front of Constance. "It's a prototype. Picture this: your boy here with thirteen inches down there. Mental powers to make a woman -- or man for that matter -- do anything. His cum binds a subject to him, but not like a whoremaster binds a slut. No, the subject doesn't even know they're bound to him. They go on about their lives like normal little Stepford wives... until they receive a trigger. And, then they become religious zealots who worship Jason here like a god. They'll do anything he tells them."

"You can do that?"

Demona grinned slyly. "With your help. You'll need to provide the trigger until Jason here gets his superpowers. You game?"

"You think Sugar will be mad?"

"Fucking A she will. But, I'm a mad scientist, so, they expect this shit from me."

"All that power," Constance whispered. She wiped a lock of curly hair out of his eyes. "He'd be like..."

"The Antichrist. Might be fun."

Constance bit her thumbnail and laughed. "Let's do it."

"Get him hard for me. I have to inject his cock and balls."

Constance smiled as she lowered her mouth to Jason's hardening cock. She licked and sucked the head. "Want me to wake him?"

"No, let him sleep."

"Mmm, he tastes so good, Demona."

"Hmm... aw, fuck it." She leaned down and tongued Jason's balls as Constance took him deep.

Jason moaned in his sleep.

He was like iron in Constance's mouth. She pulled away from his dick, a line of precum and saliva trailing from the tip.

Demona smiled and kissed her, sucking in the nectar.

Yes, Constance thought. I'm definitely getting into this whole polyamory thing.

She sucked Demona's tongue as she cupped Jason's balls. Demona jacked him slowly.

Demona pulled away and filled a syringe. "First shot. Hold him still." She wiped his cock with an alcohol swab.

Constance leaned on his hips as Demona slid the needle deep in the base of his dick.

"Unnh," Jason groaned, but he didn't wake. He couldn't without either Sugar or Constance releasing him.

Demona slowly removed the needle. "There." She kissed his flat, narrow stomach. "I gave him fourteen inches."

"Naughty girl," Constance whispered.

"Now let's buff him up." She drew a new syringe from a different bottle marked Buff Max.

***

Sugar found Asmodea reading a People magazine in the lounge.

The nun scowled at her.

She sat down beside Asmodea. "I'm sorry."

"It's literally your funeral, Sugar," Asmodea said without looking up from the magazine.

"Asmodea, I would rather beg forgiveness than ask permission. Sometimes a situation calls for flexibility."

"The Church would not agree."

"Perhaps not, but they have the luxury of being in Havana where they control everything. Things in the real world get messy."

"You are too reckless, Sugar."

At that moment, the front doors to the store opened and a group of loud girls wearing Boston College Volleyball sweatsuits poured in.

Asmodea looked at Sugar with a terrified look. "Sugar, no."

Sugar bit her lower lip and tried not to smile. "I think this is Morpheus giving us a sign, Sister. Why else would a girl's volleyball team just appear out of thin air?"

"Fuck me," Asmodea whispered.

Sugar stood up and watched the trim, athletic girls reaching for bags of snacks and running the Slushie machine.

She turned and headed for the family restroom.

***

Jason woke up. His balls ached and his dick was so hard he felt like it was made of iron.

And, he needed to fuck so bad!

Constance smiled at him. "Hi there, sleepyhead..."

He rolled onto his knees and spun Constance around. He pressed his face against her wet sex and sucked on her cunt.

"Aiggh! Jason, what?"

"Got to have you, Constance. Have to fuck you."

Constance laughed. "Okay, darling. Take it. Take what you need."

He was balls deep in her pussy before he realized another woman was sitting on the floor beside him. She was dressed in a Siouxie and he Banshees t-shirt, whoever they were. Jason stopped in mid-thrust, unsure of what he should do.

Constance moaned.

The goth woman laughed. "Don't stop, stud. Give her a good fucking."

Jason swallowed hard and began to fuck Constance with hard strokes.

Was he bigger? How could he be? But, he knew he was deeper inside the beautiful redhead. He wrapped his hand around his dick as he stroked out. Yes! He was bigger, a lot bigger.

He took his hand away and stared at another difference: he had a tattoo. An inverted pentagram was drawn in crisp, straight lines on his stomach ending just above his cock. It was about two inches across.

The numbers 666 were inscribed in three of the pentagram's points. Their was an eye in the center.

"What the fuck?" He said. His voice was deeper.

The goth chick touched his ass, cupped a cheek with her delicate hand. "Easy, stud. I have a lot to explain."

"You fucking tattooed me? Oh, my God, my parents are going to flip out!"

"Shh," Constance moaned. "Jason, honey, I need you to keep going. I... oh, fuck me, please."

Jason shook his head. This was insane. But, he began to pump into her slow.

"Good boy," the goth said. "Jason, we've given you some gifts while you slept."

"I... you shouldn't have done that without asking."

"Asking isn't exactly our strong suit. Do you like your new cock?"

"Unnh, yeah. I mean I do..."

"And, do you feel stronger?"

He tightened his grip on Constance's waist. "Definitely..."

"Good. You like fucking Constance, don't you?"

"Of course, but..."

"My name is Dr. Demona. I'm sort of a mad scientist. I work for the Church of Morpheus."

He paused his fucking and Constance whimpered.

The Church of Morpheus. The internet was alive with rumors about the church. Jason had seen bits and pieces of video claiming to be street scenes from the new Cuba: seven foot tall hookers with beach ball sized tits fucking guys right on the street in broad daylight. Huge muscular men stuffing women with cocks the size of baseball bats.