Bodies litter the rooms, draped over furniture and sprawled across the floor in awkward, unnatural positions. Here and there garments lie in tatters, and amongst the human debris are strewn countless upended bottles and shoes abandoned by their owners, the walls and carpets splashed with red stains.
The entire building looks like the scene of a massacre; were it not for the fact you had spent the night at the party, you might have thought it had been too. As it is, you know the stains are no more than red wine, the torn clothing the result of overzealous groping and that the only thing to have died last night was the morals of all the unconscious revellers you now pick your way quietly through.
You tug on the front of your dress, trying in vain to make it more comfortable. It still feels strange, but then why wouldn’t it? You have only been in this body for one night – everything feels strange. Besides, these aren’t even your clothes, rather some temporary decency offered by another partygoer after your transformation. Your dress might be several sizes too large, but given how inadequate your original clothes had been once your new body took shape it was better than nothing.
You flinch as you inadvertently kick one bottle against another. The noise rings out like a gunshot and you freeze as if it might conceal you should anyone wake up. Fortunately luck appears to be on your side and the house falls silent once more.
Tiptoeing into the hallway, your heart soars as the front door comes into view: freedom.
A shirtless man is propped up against the wall, red kisses peppering his tanned chest. You eye his muscles and a shiver of arousal ripples through you. Your sex tingles and grows wet.
Yet the sensation is duller than before – perhaps things are wearing off. It certainly seems that way. Your thoughts are certainly less murky, less lustful than they were even an hour ago. And you could swear your transformed body seems to be losing a little perfection: your tan fading, your assets diminishing. If you can just resist the urges long enough to make it outside, you are certain you will be in the clear. The effects will release their hold over you and with any luck you can put this entire misguided hiccup behind you.
Despite your situation, you realise a part of you is going to miss this body. Only a sliver, mind – that shameless voice in the back of your head that had been urging you to succumb to your new desires all night long. Small as it was now, at the time it had filled your every thought like a loudspeaker. In truth you are still unsure how you managed to resist it for so long.
You wonder if any of the sleeping people were innocent victims like you, unable to deny their temptations. There had been no indication that the punch was spiked, no warning – how many had unwittingly filled their glass without realising what the consequences would be?
Then again, you had seemed to be the only one distressed by your transformation last night. Everyone else seemed to relish the change, moaning and groping themselves as their old bodies were engulfed by fresh, sensual figures. The girl who had offered you her spare clothes had even tried to pull you into a bedroom before you had wrenched yourself from her grasp and dived into a bathroom, locking the door behind you.
Perhaps everyone else was used to this. You had heard these parties had a wild reputation – maybe that was the euphemism people around here used when referring to transformation-fuelled orgies. The revellers had certainly seemed content in their transformations, at least if the sounds echoing outside the bathroom all night were anything to go by.
Somehow you had managed to resist the urge to join them. Now, after waiting until you were certain the house was asleep before unlocking the bathroom door, you are just a few steps from being able to forget all this ever happened.
Reaching the door, you eye a cluster of nearby bodies. You are still unsure what was in that punch, but whatever it was it clearly crafts sexual gods from ordinary people; the sleeping man looks to have been hewn from granite, while the bevy of women lying around him have curves as soft as duck down and are as alluring as a desert oasis. You suppose it doesn’t much matter what was in the punch – Elixir, X-Change, dissolved Pink and Blue pills perhaps – not given the potency of the effects. Anyway, there had been numerous punch bowls available, so who was to say all those drugs hadn’t been on offer?
The door handle is cold as you grasp it. The chill sobers you like an ice bath and you feel relief wash over you. Opening it a crack, the gentle morning breeze warms your face, cutting through the aroma of sex and alcohol which hangs thick in the air. It is like you have opened a window into another world; a few more steps and you are free.
You take a deep breath, ready to make a dash for it once you’re out. Slipping one foot through the open door your bare toes touch the cold stone of the doorstep…
‘Leaving so soon?’
Startled, you stifle a scream. Looking back, you find a man leaning against the doorway into the lounge.
He is wearing a figure-hugging white tee, tight skinny jeans and pale shoes, yet despite the way his attire boasts his muscular figure you cannot tear your eyes from his face; he is handsome, incredibly so, and your sex softens again as he fixes you with a beguiling smile. He seems familiar.
Again you freeze, unsure what to do. Your head screams at you to make your escape, yet your body lusts for the man, especially once you notice the impressive bulge in his jeans.
‘You look worried,’ he says, an expression of concern on his face. ‘What’s on your mind?’
You remember him now: the host. You had seen him when you arrived last night, out by the pool, surrounded by a gaggle of beautiful female admirers. He had caught your eye and flashed the same dazzling smile, but you had dipped back into the house before he could approach you. This was his house; last night had been his party. Suddenly you feel very small in his presence.
‘I… I shouldn’t be here,’ you stammer.
You realise you can’t quite think of an answer. Ever since your transformation you have felt more alive than you have in years, and for all that you spent your night hiding yourself away, you had passed that time masturbating feverishly to the sexual sounds beyond the door. Nothing has ever felt as good as this body.
The voice in your head grows a little louder, assuring you there is nothing in your old life worth going back to, but you manage to stifle it. ‘This isn’t who I am,’ you say.
His smile widens. ‘True. But it’s who you could be. My parties tend to attract those people who are…’ he pauses, searching for the right word, ‘… different. There are the deviants and the thrill-seekers, of course, but I find most of my guests are lost, even if they don’t always realise it. Tell me, what made you come here really?’
‘I came with my friends,’ you lie.
He is not fooled. ‘Really? You didn’t seem to have any company last night.’ Your eyes bulge and he chuckles softly. ‘When you’ve been running these parties as long as I have you get pretty good at picking out the first-timers whatever body they’re in. You’re not the first newcomer to try sneaking out when they think nobody will notice. So, I’ll ask again, what made you come here?’
You pause. The voice whispers words you know are true through your thoughts, and without thinking you say them out loud. ‘People said it was wild. And free. Honestly I don’t think I’ve ever felt either of those things. I always wanted to though.’
His eyes seem to bore into your soul. ‘Yet when you were given the chance to experience those things you got cold feet. I can understand that. My parties certainly throw people in at the deep end – especially this one. New Year celebrations certainly bring out the horniness in my guests. But something tells me there’s still part of you that wants to experience what this body has to give.’
You look down bashfully, unable to hold his gaze. ‘How do you know that?’
His lips curled into a smirk. ‘Well, most people I catch sneaking out have bolted by now. And those that don’t usually take a little longer to close the door.’
Frowning, you realise he is right – without even noticing it you have closed the door. You flinch, recoiling as though burned, only to find him stood before you once you turn back. Now he is close you can smell his musk – a scent of sex lined with a sharp aftershave – and you notice the creases of his jeans and the runs in his tee; creases acquired by being crumpled on the floor, runs born of false nails groping at his person. You spot a bright love bite on his neck and wonder how many women he played with last night.
A sudden question comes to you, rising a flush in your cheeks. You feel the words forming on your lips but you cannot bring yourself to look at him when you say them, so you glance down to analyse the floor. ‘What happens to them?’ You go on quickly, realising your question made little sense. ‘The ones who close the door I mean. What happens to them?’
He takes you chin in gentle fingers and lifts your head. You see a raw passion in his eyes unlike anything you have ever encountered before.
‘That depends. Some of them wait until everyone wakes up, then they head away with a few of my more experienced guests to figure out what to do. After all, being surrounded by so many people can be daunting at the best of times, let alone when you’re in an entirely new and compulsively horny body. A little gentle guidance from their new friends generally ensures we see them at the next party ready to enjoy some punch and have some fun.
‘Others decide to make the most of the chance they have and explore the pleasures of their new body here. Like you, they generally managed to escape the main event on the night, but come the morning all that horniness is just too much to handle. For those people, the pleasure my guests can offer them is almost always enough to draw them back to the next party.
‘For what it’s worth though, if you’re wondering, you fit into neither of those categories. I can tell. You’re not unsure, not really. You don’t want to go away and think about it, nor do you want to become the communal plaything for everyone once they wake up.
‘You know if you walk out that door you’ll never have the courage to return. And you also know you’re nowhere near ready to submit yourself to this horny horde.’ He gestures to the scattered bodies. ‘But you’re not ready to give up this body just yet. Not until you’ve experienced what it can offer.’
You shake your head as firmly as you can manage. ‘No… you’re wrong… I…’
‘Deny it all you like,’ he interrupts, though his tone is calm and comforting, ‘the only one you’re fooling is yourself. The ones like you, they don’t continue living their lives, because they know there’s nothing to go back for. You want a fresh start, you want the body and life fate robbed you of at birth. You want someone with experience to guide you and care for you, to show you every possible pleasure you transformation can provide.’ He strokes your cheek affectionately. ‘You want me.’
You realise there are tears in your eyes. Nobody has ever understood you in the way he does and though denial still sears through your thoughts you know his words are true: there is nothing for you to return to. The new beginning you have always craved is no longer impossible, and this handsome man is willing to guide you through it.
‘How?’ you say. Your voice is barely above a whisper, for you fear speaking any louder might blot out the voice in your head and for the first time since your transformation you no longer want it to fall silent. ‘How do I let go?’
He hooks a stray lock of black hair behind your ear and rests one hand on your shoulder. Gently, he pushes you to your knees and you find your face level with his bulging jeans. Up close you can smell his precum. You salivate involuntarily, the thought of what he might taste like enough to excite you despite the dwindling strength of your transformation, and the sheer size of his restrained cock renders your sex immediately saturated.
‘This has to be your choice,’ he says. Part of you wants his hand on your head to pull you in, but he keeps his arms firmly by his side. ‘If you don’t do this for yourself you’ll never truly feel content in your new life. You can still walk out that door. But if you truly wish to let go, you need only follow your inner desires.’
His words are somewhat distant, like his is speaking to you through a window. Your eyes are fixed on his crotch. You wonder if this is what a vampire must feel like when presented with an exposed neck: incomparable satisfaction is so close the lust for it is almost agonising. You feel as though your body is possessed by the final energy of a dying animal making a last stand to prevent the end – every sense is razor keen and you are barely in control of your own movements, for they are instead fuelled by ravenous hunger.
You close your eyes as your fingers fumble with his button and zipper. Your heart skips a beat as his cock falls into your hands; your stomach flips when he lets out a sigh of pleasure.
The voice hisses through your thoughts, a serpent of temptation. Yesssss… That’s it… You know you want him… Make him yours… Unlock your true self… Follow your instinctssss…
For the first time you truly listen to the words, let them mould your emotions and direct your movements. Barely daring to think what you are doing unless your nerve frays, you lean in and seal your lips around his thick shaft.
Immediately you are infatuated. The warmth of his dick blooms through your cheeks as droplets of precum rupture over your tastebuds. He tastes sharp, salty, yet also like nothing you have ever tasted before: unlike food or drink, his taste does not sustain your body but rather your soul.
Your instincts take over, although you soon realise they are not your instincts at all. They are those of the new woman you have become, your body predisposed to lust and pleasure such that the act of sucking his juicy cock comes more naturally than placing one foot before the other to walk. Your lips slide effortlessly down his shaft as your tongue coils about his head automatically, pulling him deeper down your throat which seems perfectly moulded to him.
His hand finally lifts to tangle in your hair, holding you steady as he gently rolls his hips. You moan around his meat as it burrows deeper, your eyes rolling.
The heat in your crotch has swelled to overwhelm you entirely; you ache with intoxicating arousal so intense your nerves are snuffed out in an instant. This is who you are now, who you were always meant to be. Your old body could never have provided a fraction of the pleasure you feel now and with a blissful smile you allow the lust to consume you.
You swallow him deeper, shivering as his head sinks into your throat. Insatiable, you hold yourself there, savouring his taste. When you pull away a froth of saliva and precum decorate his dick and a long strand of spittle drapes between his head and your teeth.
His cock twitches as if unhappy that you have pulled back. Even as you jerk him slowly his shaft continues to quiver and when he opens his eyes you see a flicker of disappointment in them.
‘I was close,’ he says softly, as if raising his voice might shatter the last restraints on his orgasm. He raises an eyebrow. ‘Why did you stop? Have you changed your mind?’
Sinking back onto your haunches, you give him a hesitant smile. Despite the wildfire or arousal blistering through your system, now you are no longer feasting on his cock some of the nerves have returned. Your cheeks flush with embarrassment and you shake your head.
‘No. I just…’ You pause. If I do this, there is no going back. But that’s not a bad thing, is it? Not if this makes me happy. Nothing before made me feel this way. So why deny it? The loaned dress has ridden up around your hips. Hoping it will boost your courage, you lean back to expose your twinkling pussy, naked since the girl had not given you any underwear to replace those you had been wearing before your transformation. Though your smile is shy, it is laced with mischief. ‘I want to take things somewhere more private.’
He nods and tucks himself back into his jeans before helping you up. His hand on your exposed rump he leads you up the staircase, holding you so close you feel his skin hot against your own.
As you walk, you notice the familiar weight of your ass has returned. In the last hour or so you had sensed it shrinking, yet now it is as full and plump as the moment you first transformed. Your breasts has revived too, as has the colour of your tan, while your long, dark locks, so recently the consistency of straw, brush soft and silky over your shoulders. The submission to your lust has clearly strengthened the effects of your transformation, and though you suspect the changes will still wear off eventually, right now your body is sensual and luxurious once again.
The rooms up here are somehow more crowded than those below; the occupants more exposed, too. Sleeping men and women lay in various states of disrobement, their abandoned attire scattered about like fallen autumn leaves. The air here does not merely smell of sex, it is sex, a heady atmosphere of sweat, perfume and pungent sexual nectars that still seems to echo with the moans of the night before.
You take the people in with fresh attraction. One man lies entirely naked beside a beautiful bikini-clad woman and your eyes linger on his broad chest, her ample assets. A pair of topless women lie in an open doorway, the vivid prints of lipstick dotting their bare breasts. Beyond one of the doors an enormous black man dozes on an equally enormous bed with only the hands and limbs of his many sleeping lovers to conceal his modesty.
Picking your way along, you reach the end of the hall where the bodies stop abruptly at an open door. It is as though none of the revellers dared enter the room, for the floors are clear of people and they instead cluster in heaps just outside, like groupies outside the stage door.
‘My room,’ the man says, helping you over the final body – a stunning Asian woman wearing only a thong and nipple pasties. ‘My parties have only one rule: you only enter my room on my say so. I admit it is usually more occupied than this, but last night I was enjoying the company of some lovers in the jacuzzi far too much to come up here. Besides, I had a feeling I might need somewhere private this morning.’
He gives you a wink that spurs your arousal. Scampering across to the bed you slip off your dress and let it fall to the floor. Your stomach flips nervously, yet your anxiety is matched by the tingle of your lust and you hop onto the bed thrilling with anticipation. When you turn back you find he too is naked, striding over to you with his delicious cock jutting out before him while his clothes lie in a pile by the door.
You stretch out cat-like and open your mouth expectantly, but rather than approach you he rounds the bed and opens a drawer on the bedside table. When he turns back he is holding a strip of pills, which he places down on the pillow.
‘These are your ticket to a new life,’ he says as you crawl over to him. ‘Regardless of what punch you drank last night, if you take one of these the change will be rendered permanent. That doesn’t mean you can’t transform again by drinking something a little different, but the body you knew before today, that will be gone forever. Again, it has to be your choice; you must choose your own path.’
You eye the packet intently. The foil is broken in places where others have opted to seal their fate and you wonder how many more besides you have found themselves on this bed presented with the same choice.
Your decision is already made when you peer up at him with lascivious eyes, but you do not show your hand yet. Instead you open your mouth again and beckon him in with your eyes. He obliges. Your lips embrace him like an old friend and his intoxicating taste blossoms over your tastebuds once more.
This time the nerves evaporate completely and you know they will never return. Your pace is faster, more hungry, soon decorating the white sheets with ropes of saliva born of your sloppiness. You relish the sound of his moans and use them to fuel your fervour until he is sagging where he stands and bracing himself against the edge of the bed with trembling knees.
‘Fuck, you really were born for this. The slutty look suits you.’
‘Then how about you show me how a bad girl get’s rewarded?’ You grin before dropping back in and shattering the final bonds of his orgasm. He gasps, his cock twitches, and a moment later thick jets of hot cum fire into your hungry maw.
Every instinct tells you to swallow it down; to your lustful body his load is the water of an oasis to a lost traveller and you can barely restrain your natural urge to gulp down every last drop. But you manage it, just, and with his ample load sloshing around your mouth you snatch up the strip of pills. Practically tearing a pill from the packet you open your mouth and drop it into the lake of cum swirling over your tongue. Then, your eyes fixed on his and a contented smile on your lips, you swallow the lot.
Once it is down you don an innocent face and flutter your lashes. ‘You should always take a pill with a drink, you know.’
He is wearing an expression of agonised lust, his cheek twitching as his eyes roll back at your words. He groans and for a moment you think his knees are about to give way entirely.
Then he is upon you, driving you into the pillows with broad hands, pressing his face into yours, crushing his lips against your own. His skin is white-hot on yours, his rigid cock grinding against your inner thigh and sending shivers through your body. You realise suddenly how small you are in comparison, yet rather than feel intimidated you only grow more aroused imagining how hot it will be having his perfect cock skewering your petite frame.
Eventually he pulls away, though he stays close and presses his forehead against yours. His warm breath swirls down over your chest as he speaks. ‘That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,’ he says gruffly. ‘It’s so dirty and depraved: I love it. You know I’ve helped a lot of people find their true purpose. Sometimes they head out to live their new lives alone, sometimes they become involved with some of my regular guests. But there are a few special ones who I allow to live here with me. It would be my pleasure to have you join them. Let me you show you how passionate life can truly be.’
You plant a soft kiss on his cheek. ‘I want nothing more than to be yours.’ A mischievous smirk twists your lips. ‘Well… maybe there is one thing I want more.’
He raises an eyebrow. ‘And what might that be?’
Your smirk spreads into a grin. ‘I want to christen this slutty body.’
As you glance over at the door, you find jealous eyes staring back at you. The sounds of your passion must have woken some of the revellers and now they begin to gather around the door. Of those few who wear underwear the crotches are undulating, softly but with increasing ardency, as they engage in the same activity as their more brazen companions who masturbate shamelessly while they watch. You salivate, anticipating how they will taste once your lover permits them entry.
‘It appears we have an audience,’ he says, drawing you back into the moment. He is laid down on the bed, his flushed cock jutting up, your own saliva twinkling like pearls on his shaft in the dawn light. He takes your hand and pulls you closer. ‘How about we give them a good show before we let them join us? Let’s get them so horny they’re begging for us to let them in.’
Sinking into his arms, you kiss him sensually, eliciting a moan from your voyeurs. ‘Mmmh, it sounds so naughty when you say it like that. I love it. I want them to watch you make me the slut I was always meant to be.’ As you speak, you straddle his cock, easing down until his head slots into your dripping sex. You smirk. ‘Take me baby. Make me your girl.’
You moan as his hands snake over your ass and clutch your soft cheeks. Then it is a passionate cry on your lips, for he simultaneously pushes down your hips and drives up his own, burying himself deep inside your hot, wet sex. Your breath comes in sharp, strangled gasps, beneath which you can just make out the groans of your masturbating audience.
You vaguely hunger to have their hands on you, their lips against yours, but right now the only thing you can focus on is your lover’s perfect cock. As he begins to thrust your body convulses with pleasure and you clutch him like an infant holding their mother. Pleasure rolls through you, each wave a tsunami of ecstasy in which you willingly drown.
Eventually the memories of your life before fade away almost entirely. You know that drab existence no longer matters. Not now. Now you are a goddess. Now you are a slut. Now you are who you were truly meant to be.
It’s a new year. It’s a new you. And you intend to ensure you spend each moment hereafter fulfilling every naughty desire you can dream up…
Thanks for reading!
Happy New Year! 2020 is finally over, and while many of the issues of the year aren’t going away anytime soon I think everyone can agree that saying goodbye to 2020 is a massive relief. Here’s to 2021!
As for this piece, it was another example of a story that wrote itself. Once the idea of writing it in a format that places you, the reader, as the central character came up (I think the technical term is second person, but I’m not too sure) it would not go away, and writing it in the present tense seemed logical given that decision. This is very different in style to anything I’ve written before, both on and off this blog, and I have to admit I really enjoyed it. Writing in new styles can often be a good way to break out of a period of writer’s block, and while I wasn’t really suffering from that at the time it definitely helped reinvigorate my passion for erotica. I also think this style is perfect for the theme of renewal and personal reflection that comes with the New Year. When people are taking the time to look at themselves and set resolutions, I thought it would be a fun idea to set your erotic escapism through your eyes too, so I hope you enjoyed the shift.
The models in this piece are Megan Rain and Chris Diamond. I have little experience with Diamond’s work, however as always I recommend you check him out if you enjoyed this piece since scenes like this would not exist without the male models for the female models to work alongside and he deserves the same credit for his work as Rain does.
That said, Rain is a model you simply cannot miss. For me, she is the perfect example of a model who encapsulates you and refuses to let you go. The first time I properly took interest in her work was when I wrote Lake Fantasy, before which I had heard of her but not really watched her. Since then, she has soared up my list of favourites and is one of my go to models when I’m looking for someone as naughty inside as they are outside. In my opinion she is one of the most glamorous models working today, and I think part of her appeal is there is something of an ambiguity to her beauty. It makes little sense, but in my mind many models have a very static beauty, whereas when you watch Rain’s work you see something different in her appearance each time; perhaps echoes of a high school crush, or the same curves you might idolise in your favourite celebrity. I cannot recommend her work highly enough, it is a pleasure to showcase her, and she will most definitely show up in my work in the future.
Finally just a prompt to make sure you read my accompanying PSA to this piece. It includes some pretty important information for the blog moving forward, so do please head on over and give it a read if you haven’t already.
For now though, I hope everyone is having a great New Year, and best wishes for you all in 2021!
I would love to hear your thoughts on my work, so please leave me a comment!
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