What's Sauce for the Goose

by: Daphne DeYoung



View Story Details

What's Sauce for the Goose... I worked for an accounting firm in the mailroom, sorting and delivering packages for the company. It's a nothing job with no real future, but it paid my bills...barely. Six months ago, I met a gal in a bookstore. I managed to hit it off with her because of a few novels we'd read in common, and over the course of a few dates, I convinced her that my sparse lifestyle gave me a lot of time and freedom that could be focused on her. She bought it and eventually moved in with me. We had less in common than we hoped and we fought a lot of the time, but the make-up sex was good and neither one of us figured we could find a better match, even if we made the effort to break up and move apart. It wasn't a great life, but it wasn't a bad one either. That all changed recently. Permanently, I think. You see, I was cursed. Yes, you read that correctly. Cursed. I wouldn't believe it if I were you either. I mean, all I did to that crazy old woman was tell her to mind her own business. Okay, so maybe I shouldn't have been reading those particular magazines on a bus, but she didn't have to look at them over my shoulder either. And if she hadn't sounded off at me about being perverted, I wouldn't have insulted her back so much either. Things kept getting hotter until finally, with temper flaring, she stabbed her finger out toward the magazine in my lap. "Do you think the women on those pages want to be ogled like that?" she said. "If they didn't, they're beautiful enough they could have any other job they wanted. No one has a gun to their heads" I retorted. "You don't know what makes them do those things." With that, she leaned over the seat and tapped the top of my head...twice. "But you will." That's it. Nothing else, I swear. The bus had just stopped at that point, so she stood quickly, smiled wryly at me and waddled off onto the street. I don't know her name and I don't remember ever seeing her before or since. It was odd and strange, certainly. But once the bus started moving again, I just folded the magazine over, and when the bus finally paused at my stop, I hot-footed it around the block and to my apartment building. Jamie was home that night. She'd just lost her waitressing position because of a management change at the restaurant, so she had a lot of free-time. She mostly wasted it on net surfing and reading. She was bored, I was bored, and the evening was warm. When we realized nothing was on television, we decided to burn the night having sex. I would say "making love", but that just wasn't the way things were between us. So we had sex. Like a lot of couples, our sex life was largely routine. I went down on her for a while until she was nice and wet, then she climbed on top, rode out four or five good orgasms, until finally she rolled off and sucked me off for the big finish. It was a great routine and we were both pretty happy with it. But this time, while she was busy swallowing my cock, I started fantasizing about her. I thought about the way she looked now and how the blowjob might feel if she had the thick, luscious lips that I saw on the girls in my magazines. You know, the kind of mouth that looks like she's asking for only one thing, no matter whether she's smiling or pouting. I thought about those lips riding up and down on my pole and I swear I got a half-inch thicker. Envisioning Jamie with those lips made me think of her as a "cocksucker" for the first time and I got into it, dreaming about how her lips would be incredibly sensitive, somehow hardwiring her throat into her pleasure centers so that when I came in her mouth, she would come hard too. It was good. I mean very good. I could hear Jamie being happy with how hard I was, her moans and her tongue and lips meshing my senses together until I absolutely lost it, exploding into her throat. At the same time, Jamie's body trembled and quaked in what was obviously orgasm, but she stayed locked to my cock, taking every drop of my come as I spasmed. Acutely drained, I lay back breathing hard. Jamie lay where she had sprawled after I exploded, obviously recovering from a major orgasm herself. The bedroom was dark, so I couldn't see much more than her form, and I let my mind play a bit further. Even starting to think about how exciting that had been got my unit stirring a bit. I started thinking about how it would be great if Jamie was kind of...addicted...to cocksucking. Like she would start getting a little bit hornier a little bit at a time all day until she was finally so ravenous for my seed, she'd do anything for it. That was a good one. Sure enough, I felt a tiny stirring of desire nudge through my cock again and it didn't seem to be going away. I felt over toward Jamie and she was already moving toward me, looking for snuggles, I guess. But I met her with my mouth, kissing down her breast and belly, questing down for her legs and the warmth between. Jamie normally pulls away after sex, being overly sensitive right afterward, but this time, she rolled up and let her legs splay apart. I moved between her thighs, kissing down her legs, ignoring the light stubble from her being lazy and not shaving and finally kissing down to her feet. In the darkness, I ignored the senses from my fingers and I imagined her ankles thin and delicate, toes pointed down and heels soft and supple, built to showcase sandals with long, tapered heels. I could practically feel them that way beneath my hands and Jamie gasped as I must have accidentally tickled her foot with my caress. Still playful, Jamie rotated around until she could grab me. She used my body as a climbing post, pulling her way around, digging in slightly with her fingernails. Her movements were catlike, so I imagined her fingers to be long and thin with pointed nails of that particular deep red I had seen on Catwoman posters, perfectly manicured into points like claws. And that's when I noticed the changes. Her nails were longer suddenly. It wasn't a huge change, but it was real enough to shock me out of the eroticism of the moment. I rolled over and slapped the wall switch by the bed. Looking back at Jamie, I saw her naked and gasping in surprise. Her nails were easily two inches long and blood red. Her regular chunky thighs and calves were the same, but now tapered down to amazingly petite and feminine feet. And her lips...oh, how her lips said "sex" in all of its forms. Soft and velvety, almost bouncing weightlessly with her slow, langorous movements, all packaged into a perfect bow, and dyed a red to match her nails. That was it. Those were the only changes. But exactly the changes I had imagined while we writhed together in sex. And now Jamie was pointing at me. She was saying something. I focused on her enough to hear her say "What? What happened to you?!?" We have a mirror on our bedroom wall over the dresser. I glanced up from the bed toward the mirror and saw something completely unbelievable. So I looked down at Jamie (those lips!) and looked up at the mirror again. Those lips were still there...but...on my face, as well! Those beautiful, sexy, silken, cocksucking lips were on MY face. Suddenly fearful, I looked down at my hands and saw those same two-inch blood- red nails atop beautiful feminine fingers emerging from my mannish arms. A moment's glance more brought home the sight of graceful ankles and feet growing out of my hairy legs. I know I lost it. I kneeled on the bed staring at the mirror, touching those nails to those (my!) lips. A moment later, Jamie came out of the shock of seeing my changes enough that she finally saw how she had changed herself, and then she lost it also. We spent a lot of time saying shouting things like "How?" and "Why?" and "This can't happen!"...but it obviously could happen and we didn't know how or why. Eventually, we calmed down enough to think about the situation a bit more. Now, it wasn't that I had forgotten about the old crone on the bus, but there just wasn't any reason to put two and two together between that woman and these changes. It simply didn't occur to me. But I did know that I had fantasized those changes about Jamie, and that somehow it had changed her AND me at the same time. I'm not dishonest so I told Jamie about it right away. I wanted to help as much as I could. After all, how was I going to go out in public with ankles that could only wear size-six, 4" heels and with luscious lips that didn't fit the face of a man at all. "Well, first things first," she said". "There'll be no more fantasizing from you until we figure out what's going on here." Her lips quivered and bounced while she talked. It made her speak with a tiny bit of lisp, like a young child and it was sexy as hell. "Yeah...well...quit moving those lips and I'll stop thinking about you using them on me." She glared. "That's exactly what I mean! Stop it now! If you think about anything in particular, like me having bigger boobs or something..." I mean, really. How the hell did she think saying something like that wasn't going to make me think about it? Besides, she'd never been anything special in that area and I'd had lots of fantasies about my "perfect gal". When she said "bigger boobs", the first thing I flashed to was... "Ah!" she cried out as her breasts began to swell to at least a DD size on her chest. I didn't have more than a moment to stare before my own chest began to swell, the hair fading back into my chest as the skin wriggled and writhed into a new ballooning shape. The nipples of my new breasts expanded and grew, sticking out rigidly while the rest of my chest became soft and luxurious. "Don't touch them!" I gasped. Her gasp told me she had already done just that. I feared to touch my own new breasts as my fantasies all involved women that became incredibly horny when they touched themselves and I had to assume I'd just done the same thing here. Sure enough, I could hear Jamie's breath getting labored and fast. Her hands moved down her middrift until her long red nails began twitching and playing at her clit. I could smell the scent of her excitement and I quivered, desperate to join her, my own red nails poised and hovering above the twin melons on my chest despite my mind trying to think of anything other than sex or more changes. My cock rose hard and unchecked, roused from its spent lethargy by the rampage on my senses. When I looked at Jamie, I saw that she was pleasuring herself with her fingers already, somehow becoming so turned on that she'd forgotten the situation entirely, at least for the moment. I tried to sit up, but my boobs were much larger than I had imagined and they flopped to one side, tugging painfully as I rose from the matress. Forgetting myself for just a moment, I grabbed them to steady myself. The feeling was unimaginable. It was like an explosion going off in my head, chest and cock all at once. My mind at once locked onto the feeling of my nails and hands roaming across my virgin breasts and my new nipples stood erect at once, begging for attention. I moved my hand to grasp at the nipple and it felt at once as if Jamie was stroking my cock, my nipple-tweaking taking on the feelings of a stupendous hand- job on my chest. I felt myself getting hornier and hotter as I rubbed and tweaked and prodded at my new treasures until I finally could stand it no more. I threw myself toward Jamie, pushing her legs apart and plunging my cock deep into her waiting pussy. My mind unraveled. As I kissed her (our lips mashed sensuously together), I imagined her eyes to be blue and smokily made up for sex. As I nibbled her ear, I thought how luxurious she'd look with long blonde wavy tresses. As I pounded her pussy, I imagined the extra weight she carried around her gut was tan, tight skin and taut muscles instead. As I fucked her doggy style, I thought about how much better it would be to fuck a firm, peach-like ass. I imagined her with a small turned-up nose, high cheekbones and a pure look of sex in her eyes at all times. I roamed my new thin fingers and nails down her legs and imagined them hairless, shapely and sexy. And all these changes happened. We avoided the mirror. Neither of us wanted to admit that the changes were for both, each of us pretending that only the other had changed. I couldn't imagine getting hornier, but my libido still increased, my cock seeming to strain and grow a bit with each passing moment, while my body had changed to that of the blue-eyed blonde sexual creature of my horniest fantasy. Jamie finally seemed to sense my growing sexual distress, licked her lips erotically as she began to stroke at my cock. As she moved her hand up and down, she slowly writhed down toward my groin, smiling suggestively along the way. As her lips (those luxurious lips!) parted before moistening my cock's crown, I was shocked to realize my initial reaction was jealousy that she got to do it instead of me. That she would always have a pussy and my own sweet (cocksucking) lips would only taste her pussy, instead of savoring a glorious cock like mine. It was just a moment's idle thought. That's all it was. But Jamie's gasp was sudden and when her hands stopped moving on my rod, I had to look down to find out why. Jamie's pussy had completely disappeared, leaving a duplicate of my own stiff and raging cock behind. Jamie's expression changed suddenly, becoming almost ferocious with need, and she flung her legs around until her new cock dangled in front of my face while she still covered my rod with her own mouth. I didn't waste a moment considering how it happened...I was mesmerized by her cock, by the vision of each vein throbbing in motion, the head pulsating and tight, with the tip already glistening with promise. I took it into my throat and began pumping back and forth like I'd been sucking cock for years, slurping and sucking at that magnificent rod. Jamie and I sucked each other relentlessly, our passions mounting higher and higher as the changes continued. It's been days now. We've figured out most of the rules of the curse now and we've learned to take care of ourselves during the ebbs after each sexual bout. It seems that I'm the key, and whatever I fantasize happens to Jamie, but then it happens to me also. I can't seem to change us back, because it only works if I'm sexually fantasizing the image, and well...the way we used to look isn't something I can work into a sexual fantasy, especially now that I've sampled my this new reality. There have been other changes. Jamie and I both have assholes that seem to be valved so it acts "normally" when relaxed, but when we're horny (which is most of the time) the valve closes and it acts like a vagina, with clits at the top of the hole directly wired to our pleasure centers. Getting fucked in the ass is a very pleasurable experience for both of us, and since we are pretty constantly horny, our cocks are generally stiff and active. Let's just say that we've gotten over any inhibitions about buttfucking we might have had. Besides, we're still addicted to each others' sperm. It seems that stray idle thought I had, that Jamie would need my stuff every day or she'd go totally into animal heat is still true. But I need Jamie's load and she needs mine to keep the heat at bay. Okay, that mostly works out to our mutual satisfaction, but it's still a sort of tether. Neither of us can be more than a day away from the other or we both suffer the most embarrassing rutting heats and we'll fuck almost anything during that time until we finally get to taste the other. Other than that, we're two completely beautiful, terribly horny she- males that aren't much good for anything other than sex and pornos. So that's what we do now, working out of a Vegas cathouse that takes practically everything we make, but gives us room and board. Which is all we need, really. A bed and each other. I wonder if that old woman meant the curse to work out this way or not. It's true that I'm rarely satisfied for long, but I'm satisfied often. I hope she's satisfied too.

Good story? Or room for improvement? Please review!

Read Reviews Add Review Report Inappropriate Story

The above work is the copyrighted material of the respective author. If you would like to archive it elsewhere, please contact the author and ask permission first, unless noted otherwise in their story.

For further details on Fictionmania's policy, please read this disclaimer.



