Models: Christian Clay, Jean Val Jean & Anya Olsen
‘Look, I know you think you’re this skilful, amazing seamstress or something, but I’m telling you, that peasant look you wore last time just wasn’t up to scratch.’
Chrissy scoffed, venom in her eyes as she glared at Jacques. ‘You don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. That outfit was ten times more authentic than anything you’ve ever made, and that’s being generous. Do you know how long I spent researching the style of stitching prevalent in 16th century farming communities?’
Jacques waved away the question like it was an irritating fly invading his personal space. ‘I’m not talking about the stitching, Chrissy. I’m talking about the aging. There wasn’t so much as a speck of dirt on that thing – you looked more like a lady-in-waiting than a serving wench!’
Reclining amongst the welcoming cushions of his seat, the third person in the room sipped idly at his coffee. Andre tried and failed to suppress a smirk as he watched the unfolding debate.
Though cosplay was the hobby that had bought them all together, many members of the group also enjoyed LARPing from time to time, though none of them took things as seriously as Chrissy and Jacques. He’d never quite been able to wrap his head around precisely what his friends hoped to achieve with their constant verbal sparring. They never really argued exactly, but given that both Chrissy and Jacques seemed incapable of accepting they could possibly be inferior to the other every conversation they shared was an endless cycle of jibes and boasts used to try and one-up each other.
Most of the group could only handle the duo in limited doses. Andre was the exception. Often described as being so laid back he was actually horizontal, he found their squabbles entertaining rather than irritating. Of course, he couldn’t deny he was very biased: having all joined the group at around the same time they had decided to stick together during their first few events, then just never really stopped doing so. Though Andre sometimes felt like a parent supervising a pair of bickering toddlers he still considered them his two closest friends in the group.
This particular quarrel had started in the kitchen. Andre wasn’t sure exactly what had sparked it because his head was still fuzzy with the lingering embrace of too much alcohol. Having left their shared room in search of a rejuvenating coffee, they had been delighted to find a tub was already out on the counter – clearly they weren’t the only ones who’d needed a morning pick me up. Groggy as they were, even they could tell Fantasy Roast was the manor’s own brand.
By the time the coffee had roused Andre enough to think clearly, Chrissy and Jacques were in full swing.
Andre was about to change the subject when he was overcome by a wave of strange sensations. His chest ached, his groin felt hot and his skin tingled all over as if alive with static electricity. Confused and uncomfortable, he set down his mug a little more heavily than he intended on the table beside him, trying to catch his breath as he did so.
It took a few seconds for Andre to realise Chrissy and Jacques weren’t squabbling anymore. When he looked up he found them staring at him with eyes like golf balls.
‘What?’ he asked.
Chrissy’s mouth hinged open and closed uselessly. In the end it was Jacques who answered.
‘Dude… you’re not blond anymore.’
‘What?’ Andre repeated, more urgently this time. Pivoting around to face the window he blanched as he saw his reflection: his wavy hair was suddenly walnut brown. His eyes now just as wide as theirs, he turned back to his friends in a panic. ‘What’s going on? I don’t understand. I… I feel so… horny.’
A second later the transformation had him.
Even if he wasn’t especially muscular, Andre was both very tall and very broad, features which had always made him a shoo-in for the role of any knight or gladiator or otherwise hypermasculine cosplay character. But as Chrissy and Jacques watched all that changed. As if being crushed by unseen hands, Andre lost well over a foot in height while his shoulders contracted sharply, losing at least a third of their width in a matter of seconds. Every inch smaller he became seemingly prompted his body to shed weight to maintain the right proportions, his thick arms and legs dwindling as he shrank. His torso too was drained of mass, and while pound after pound melted away the audible splintering of bone made clear that his ribs were diminishing to fit his daintified physique. The regression didn’t stop until Andre was barely over five foot and light enough that the cushions he sat on barely even seemed to register his presence. If his original body was an eagle, robust and powerful, this new one was a delicate songbird.
It didn’t take long for that delicacy to be reflected elsewhere too. Even as he gripped the seat with trembling knuckles his thick fingers slimmed to thin digits, his once slab-like feet dwindled to a narrower shape, and his clavicles pushed up, their prominence somehow emphasising the sudden paleness of his skin.
Then there was his face. Andre’s angular jawline was already gone, erased by softer, subtler lines. His ears were likewise much less substantial, and now the facial changes encroached in from the edges where they rapidly refined his appearance into that of a completely different person. His lips became supple and rosy, his nose narrowed, his brows rose into plucked arches; his eyes brushed themselves with eyeshadow and mascara while an impish twinkle rose to glitter in his gaze. Then, as if they’d been waiting for his face to match his hair, Andre’s darkened waves suddenly elongated, sweeping down over his shoulders and upper chest to frame his head and neck in rich brown curtains.
Like Chrissy and Jacques, Andre was wearing his pyjamas. But rather than reform into a new outfit, they instead vanished completely. Stitching and threads unravelled at an accelerated rate, revealing ever more glimpses of his transforming body beneath. Eventually his pyjamas were no more than a tangle of coloured fibres draped across his petite frame, after which they dissolved into nothingness. In their absence Andre was utterly naked aside from a thin white choker bearing a small gem that had appeared around his neck.
With his clothes removed it was now clear that Andre’s new body was utterly hairless save for a small crop of pubic hair above his cock – a cock that was rapidly shrinking. In barely a few seconds it was entirely gone and his friends found themselves staring in astonishment at the pink folds of the tight pussy that had taken its place. At the same time Andre’s chest was inflating, a pair of supple tits swelling into being, nipples hard and sensitive.
All at once the strange feeling that had initially struck Andre made sense. It was arousal. More accurately, it was feminine arousal: the ache of tits desperate to be groped, the flushed heat of a pussy yearning to be filled, the tingle of soft skin in need of caressing. The lust of his new body had been bleeding through before his transformation even began and only now did he have the ability to comprehend it.
As if triggered by this realisation, a new persona surfaced in Andre’s mind. The new woman snuffed him out like a candle in a hurricane and then there was only Anya.
The breathless gasps Andre had given throughout his transformation culminated in an erotic sigh as the manor’s magic ebbed away. Closing her eyes and savouring the horny heat lingering on her skin, Anya took several seconds to bask in the transformation afterglow even though she could no longer remember transforming at all.
When she finally opened her eyes, she found Chrissy and Jacques staring at her wearing expressions somewhere between horror and amazement.
However, they didn’t stay that way for long.
Andre had been the first one to hit the coffee – the other two had been too busy feuding to drink straight away. Nonetheless, it had only been a matter of time until the coffee’s effects caught up with them too. And now their time was up.
Whereas Andre’s genitals had been one of the last of his features to change, for Chrissy they were the first. Her gasp of pleasure rang through the room and she sprang to her feet as the crotch of her pyjama shorts suddenly started to bulge. The tight material clung to her new cock, which snaked down her inner thigh so far the head emerged from the bottom of her shorts, tip already glistening with precum. For a few seconds Chrissy stared at her new extremity with bulging eyes, but then she scrunched her eyes closed and groaned as the effects rapidly spread.
Bending double, she struggled to remain standing through the ecstasy, but even so the changes affecting her were impossible to miss. Her plump tits deflated in a single blink, her shoulders cracked and creaked as they expanded outwards, all while her hips contracted slightly with the same gut-churning noises. The soft tan she sported darkened by several shades giving the impression of a life lived primarily outdoors.
Of all girls in the group, Chrissy was undeniably the most well-built. In fact, when it came to playing the role of knights or gladiators she could usually give most of the guys a run for their money. As such she was already well-toned and muscular, yet it soon became clear that the manor still saw room for improvements. Fresh muscle bubbled up across her arms and legs and chest, filling her out with impressive strength and leaving her significantly more brawny than before. At the same time Chrissy actually lost a few inches of height until she was little taller than Anya, though the compression of her figure only served to provide her with an even more robust build, stocky yet powerful.
As her groans continued, they became increasingly gruff. Her high cheekbones, slender chin and shallow brow were already gone; now dark eyes sat beneath a broad forehead and, while her platinum blonde pixie cut had reeled back into her scalp leaving her utterly bald, a fine shadow of stubble surfaced over her angular chin and around the sides of her head.
Although Chrissy’s transformation was the most obvious, Jacques’s was possibly even more dramatic.
For all his bravado and arrogance, he was nonetheless a slip of a thing: five stone wet through and skinny as a starving rat. Until the manor’s magic got hold of him, at least.
In a reversal of the shrinkage Andre had experienced, Jacques surged in height faster than Anya’s eyes could follow. He too had jumped to his feet when the changes began, but the intensity of the transformation had driven him to his knees and now he knelt with head thrown back, arms out by his sides and eyes scrunched closed, howling as his body expanded ever further. His bones could be heard fracturing and resetting beneath the skin – skin which was itself stretching to accommodate his increasing mass without ever acquiring a single stretchmark. And with every inch he grew, thick bands of muscles surfaced to embrace his new figure so that soon Jacques had the rippling body of a true alpha. He was all chiselled abs, pecs like marble and biceps seemingly fashioned of raw power; if wearing a toga, he could feasibly have passed as a Roman god.
His hawkish features similarly filled out. A robust jawline, mesmerising gaze and handsome good looks usurped his former facial arrangement, while the sallow complexion that betrayed how much time Jacques spent indoors was enriched by an enviable tan – not quite as dark as Chrissy’s, but still a stark difference when compared with Anya’s pale flesh. By the time his new features settled Jacques was almost painfully attractive – the kind of man who could lure any woman into bed with just the suggestion of a smile or a single roguish wink. His hair was just and dark as wavy as it had always been, though it had shortened by several inches from the shoulder-length style Jacques usually sported.
With his new body almost complete, there was nonetheless still one change left to make.
Jacques practically roared as his cock engorged. The crotch of his pyjama bottoms was already tented, but now that tent jutted out ever further, the material threatening to split at the seams as his erection pushed inexorably outwards. Within a matter of seconds his shaft lengthened by several inches at least, the sight setting Anya’s mouth watering.
The magical spectacle didn’t alarm Anya in the slightest. In fact, watching the two men take shape turned her on so much she could barely wrap her head around it, and as the transformations progressed she slipped a hand down to her pussy and began fervently playing with herself. Then, as if rewarding her for giving in to her lust, the manor finally stripped the bulls of their bedclothes, clearly eager that the trio not waste time in getting intimate together.
Chrissy and Jacques were naked in a heartbeat, their clothes unravelling the same way Anya’s had before the threads vanished completely. Beneath their clothing both men were almost hairless save for small crops of pubic hair crowning their groins and thin layers over their legs and forearms. Beyond this their physiques were raw and bare, displaying their rippling muscles in all their chiselled, enticingly touchable glory. Only Jacques retained any kind of clothing by the end, in the form of a thick leather cuff and a pair of silver bangles on his left wrist.
Despite having just witnessed their transformation with her own eyes, the moment the new men were complete Anya immediately forgot they had ever been anyone else. To compensate, her memories rearranged: she wasn’t playing with herself because she was turned on by their metamorphosis, she was doing so to tease them; she wasn’t horny because of the sight of engorging cocks and swelling muscles, she was just needy for her men to come and use her. She didn’t even notice how disoriented the two bulls looked, as if they couldn’t quite figure out where they were.
Fortunately, Anya knew just how to exploit their distraction.
A familiar thrill rushed through Anya’s petite frame as she coiled her fingers around their cocks. Despite the innumerable lovers she had tangled with over the years, she still hadn’t found anything that hit quite like the first touch of a rigid dick knowing what she’d have done with it before it softened again.
She savoured the sensation for a few seconds, noting the difference in girth and length between the two. Then she wrapped her lips around the nearest one and peered up at its owner with impish glee in her eyes.
The moment Anya clasped their shafts, both men seemed to snap out of their stupor. When they looked down at her the vague confusion had vanished and they regarded her with fiendish smiles.
The man who used to be Jacques gave his companion a sly wink. ‘Oh, she’s on form today. Just wait until you get a feel of these naughty lips.’ Pushing his hips forward, he smirked as Anya swallowed him deeper. She was taking things slowly, feeding him in little by little: nobody was going to disturb them here, so there was no need to rush.
The second man eyed Anya hungrily. ‘I hope you’re right, Jean. I can’t remember the last time I got to fuck this little minx.’
Jean grinned. ‘Trust me, Christian, the wait was worth it. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? Or is it hornier? I forget. Either way, you’ve got all week to make up for lost time.’
Below them Anya was only half listening. She wasn’t the kind of woman to waste a good cock, so having two at her disposal was rocket fuel for her libido. Throwing all pretence of decorum to the wind she went down on her lovers deep and sensual, groaning as their shafts delved down her throat and made her neck bulge.
She worked them as skilfully as the most experienced hooker. Whichever cock was in her mouth she clasped it at the base and jerked it off into her lips even as she rocked back and forth in long, slow strokes. At the same time her free hand was wrapped around the other man’s shaft, stroking him at a similar pace to ensure he was always at attention and ready for her to lavish with her lips when the urge seized her. Oscillating between her lovers, she took her time in satisfying her carnal cocklust. Anya always preferred to bask in pleasure rather than rush it. Even so, the longer she spent sucking her studs, the more arousal bubbled up inside her, and eventually that desire boiled over into the urge to take things further. Much, much further.
Most men would have been disappointed when a woman as beautiful as Anya stopped going down on them. But Jean and Christian knew better; when she rose to her feet and pressed herself against Jean’s broad, tanned chest they both smiled with knowing anticipation.
‘Please, baby, I need…’ She paused, still breathless from swallowing them so deep.
Before she could continue Jean hushed her with a finger to her lips. ‘It’s okay, gorgeous. I know what you need.’ And with that he scooped her up into his arms as if she was no heavier than the cushions littering the nearby sofa.
A whimpering groan escaped Anya’s lips as Jean’s cock sank into her wet cunt. A few seconds later Christian was inside her too, his shaft slathered with lube from a nearby bottle that allowed him to slide easily into her ass. Slowly, Jean lowered her down further until she was at a sufficient height for both men to invade her holes balls deep if they wished.
And then they began to thrust.
For most women, transitioning from a blowjob straight to double penetration was a jump that would have left them reeling. But Anya wasn’t like other women. Sex was her everything: her purpose, her calling, her religion all wrapped into one. If she truly had added a notch for every man she’d fucked, her bedpost would be no more than a splintered stump. She lived for the pleasures of the flesh and rather than lose her mind as the two men started to fuck her, she merely hooked her legs around Jean’s waist, rolled her hips gently in time with their thrusts and allowed them to fill her with the orgasmic bliss she craved above all else.
As pleasure flowed through her, a delirious giggle bubbled up in Anya’s throat. A slutty grin worked its way across her pretty features while her eyelids fluttered at every thrust. She could feel their cocks rubbing together through the tissue separating her ass and pussy and the sensation was giving her shivers.
Looping one hand around the back of Jean’s head she pulled him into her neck, which he promptly began to kiss. Her other hand descended to hold his wrist, ensuring he didn’t release his grip on her thigh. Not because it was necessary – she had enough strength to clamp her legs around his hips with no risk of falling – but because she loved his hands on her body.
‘Mmmh, you feel so good in me, baby. Yes, go deep, that’s it. Stretch me until I’m so horny I can’t think straight. You’re good at that, stud. The best. You know I’ll never give up this cock.’
And so she went on, breathing sordid encouragement into Jean’s ear while he continued to plunge into her flushed folds. Once again she shared her time between the two men, leaning back and hooking her arms around Christian’s neck whenever she wanted to fill his head with tempting whispers. If her body wasn’t already enticing enough, when combined with her fiendish words and slutty insatiability Anya herself was the ultimate aphrodisiac. In her presence, no man could hope to resist the urge to use her perfect body.
Nevertheless, there was never any doubt that Anya was always in control. The bulls served at her pleasure, their presence allowed only to satisfy any desire she wished to indulge. A fact she soon proved when she leaned in closer than ever to hiss in Jean’s ear.
‘My pussy misses your tongue, baby.’
Jean knew better than to deny the young beauty. All three of them gasped when he lifted her from their cocks before laying her down upon the large rectangular divan by their side. He was already circling around behind her when she rolled onto her front and rose to all fours, pushing her ass up for Jean to admire as he sank to his knees.
A slutty, sensual groan frothed on Anya’s tongue once her bull pressed his face between her cheeks. His tongue was agile and experienced, though that was hardly surprising given how many times he had been in this same position: after all, Anya loved a man’s head between her thighs even more than she loved his cock in her lips. Within seconds he had her quivering, worshipping her saturated sex as if his life depended on it and sending flares of searing ecstasy arcing through her whenever his tongue swirled around her sensitive clit.
Composing herself, Anya smiled wickedly as she looked up at Christian. ‘What are you still standing there for? Come and sit here next to me, hot stuff. I’m still hungry,’ she added with a wink.
Christian didn’t need telling twice. Almost before he had landed Anya had his cock in her mouth and was once again feasting on his rod. This time, however, she was much less delicate than before. Arousal roaring rampant through her veins after the invasion of her holes – compounded with the euphoric pleasure born from Jean’s doting cunnilingus – had her in full nympho mode. Bobbing her head rapidly, she filled the room with hot, wet gagging that even Christian’s panting groans could not drown out.
Fantasy Manor was Anya’s home away from home. In fact, in many ways it was her preferred place to be. As owner of an internationally renowned lingerie brand, she wanted for nothing. However, that luxury came with a price, since no matter where she went she was hounded by paparazzi every hour of the day. Nothing she did stayed private for long – nothing except what went on at Fantasy Manor. Anya had never been able to figure out why, but for some reason the press never found her here. It was as if the manor itself decided who could visit and who could not, and Anya liked to think any reporters who tried to follow her were magically led astray in the endless forest.
Whatever the reason for the privacy, Anya always made the most of it. After all, her image was tied to that of her company, and the press would have a field day if they caught her fucking her way through the rich and handsome.
But in Fantasy Manor, nobody could hear her scream – or moan, or gasp, or beg for more. Within these walls, there was nothing but sin. It was for this reason that she and Jean were regular visitors; the solitude of the manor ensured he could practically ignore his role as her bodyguard and focus on fucking her senseless instead. Of course, they rarely came alone, and Christian was just one of the many hot, wealthy studs Anya had lured out to the manor. So long as they could keep her sluttiness secret, that’s all that mattered. Though Christian had been to the manor several times before business had kept him away from Anya’s divine body for too long, and now he was eager to make up for missed time.
Unfortunately for him, Anya knew exactly how desperate he was for her. And she couldn’t resist using that desperation to torment him.
After feasting on his manhood until ribbons of precum-laced saliva dribbled down his shaft, Anya pulled back so that her tongue merely feathered over his tip. The sudden shift drew a yearning groan from Christian’s lungs and he pushed his hips up in the hope of sheathing himself in her lips again. To his dismay, Anya simply retreated again, her delicate fingers still coiled around the base of his shaft but no longer stroking it. Again he pushed closer; again she shifted back. Devilish glee danced in her eyes as a mixture of longing and betrayal tumbled over his face.
Inch by inch, Anya drew Christian up onto his knees. Once there, his stocky body looming above her, she rewarded him by running her tongue up and down his shaft. His eyes fluttered as she sent flares of pleasure through his manhood. They both knew he’d never dream of getting forceful – not unless she asked for it – and therefore they also knew that he had no power to stop her slutty teasing. All he could do was wait for her cocklust to overwhelm her brattiness.
Behind her, Jean had taken the opportunity to pleasure her pussy in a different way. Anya was not surprised when his massive meat invaded her again: after years of their sordid arrangement his understanding of her body and needs was absolute. Without fail, he always knew when she needed fucking – how fast, how hard, how deep and in what hole – without her ever needing to breathe a word.
However, that understanding flowed both ways. Because while Jean knew how to satisfy her, she knew all of his erotic weaknesses and how to manipulate them to her own ends. For example, Jean was an ass man. A bouncing, rippling rump was his silver bullet. So, if Anya ever wanted to drive him wild and lure him into fucking her harder, all she had to do was jiggle her ass in his direction – which, of course, is exactly what she was doing.
Seized by the red fog of lust, Jean clamped his powerful hands on her fleshy cheeks and groped them so hard the ache descended down to her thighs. His grip of steel holding her in place, he immediately increased his pace in a frantic attempt to release some of the desire rushing through his body.
With her bodyguard thrusting into her from behind, Anya continued to torment Christian. Whenever she rocked forward her soft lips brushed over his head, but she never went far enough to actually suck him, leaving him in a state of constant erotic anguish.
As the long groans of both men infused the very air with carnal intent, Anya basked in the depravity of it all. The sheer power of their arousal was their undoing, their lust hers to exploit however she wished.
They were addicts and she was their drug. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.
Slowly, sensually, making sure to savour every new position and sordid act, the horny trio sank into blissful orgasmia. Passion guided their every movement. Nothing was rushed or rough; no spark of pleasure was allowed to escape them.
Anya knew there were others in the manor. Occasionally she heard footsteps on the floor above or muffled voices from other rooms. But the more telling indicator were the moans that began to drift through the manor while they continued to fuck. At first the erotic sounds entered only through the open window as a sultry voice urged a man named Alex to go deeper. But over time the echoes of other naughty encounters met their ears: the shrill giggle of a young woman as she enthused about how incredible her lover Mickey’s cock was; a deep voice outside complementing the tight ass of his gentlemen friend; the lilting voice of a woman urging her man to continue eating her out. It was like the manor wanted them to hear – wanted them to know that there were others throughout the building and grounds indulging in the same lust that was consuming Anya and her bulls.
Eventually, Anya found herself lying on the divan in what she could only describe as a hunk sandwich. Jean was behind her, his broad chest pressed against her back as he pumped into her ass, one hand clamped on her rump while the other was hooked around to feel her tits. Christian, meanwhile, was filling her pussy, eyes closed and breath coming in ragged gasps as he fought to restrain his orgasm. Anya had her hands on the man’s flanks, one of her legs pinned beneath him as the other rested on his hip.
With Christian distracted, Anya took the opportunity to lean back and whisper in Jean’s ear. ‘Did you bring it, baby?’
‘The catsuit?’ he whispered back. When Anya nodded, he smiled. ‘I did. It’s in my suitcase.’
The catsuit they were referring to was a black latex piece that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Anya was always eager to don anything that would turn her lovers on, and Jean was a big fan of seeing her in anything tight no matter the material. But the reason they had really bought it along was to see what effect it would have on Christian. He had let slip during a previous trip to the manor that he had a truly crippling weakness for latex, so when they had arranged for him to join their trip this time, both Anya and Jean had agreed they couldn’t miss the chance to exploit that particular turn on. Jean had already agreed to give them some privacy when the time came: Anya didn’t want Christian to have any distractions.
She could already envision the look on Christian’s face when she revealed it. She suspected that despite his bullish demeanour, Christian had a secret submissive streak that might be drawn to the surface when he saw her wrapped tight in her glossy black suit. If that was the case, then the first thing she intended to do was order him to kneel, unzip the crotch and have him worship her pussy until he couldn’t breathe.
And if he wasn’t a secret sub, well, no doubt the latex would drive him wild nonetheless. Either way, she was in for a very enjoyable night.
Mischief was written all over Anya’s face as she smirked back. ‘Good. Don’t worry, I promise you’ll get a turn with me wearing it too.’
‘You spoil me,’ Jean grinned.
‘I know,’ she replied before pressing her lips against his. For several minutes they made out passionately while Christian continued thrusting, oblivious to their sordid scheming. Soon enough though, Anya felt Christian’s cock begin to twitch uncontrollably. He had finally lost the battle: his orgasm was imminent.
Pulling away from Jean, she prepared herself for the flood. ‘It’s okay, boys, I’m ready for it. Fill me up. I want to gush your cum; I want to be so full I’m dribbling it for days. Fill me, boys. Make me your cumdump.’
So, without any further encouragement necessary, that’s exactly what they did…
Thanks for reading!
For this one there really isn’t that much to say. Anya has been on my list of models to include in a Fantasy Universe series pretty much from the very beginning, so I’m thrilled I could finally include her. I think both the original scene and this story really convey how incredible she is as a model, and I’m extremely happy with the final product. Hopefully you all enjoyed this one as much as I did!
Image galleries: https://www.pornpics.com/galleries/sexy-babe-with-tiny-tits-anya-olsen-takes-two-huge-cocks-in-a-dp-threeway-36030868/
https://www.pornstar.gallery/pornpics/tushy-anya-olsen-birthday-dp-analmobi
https://www.yespornpics.com/sex/tushy-anya-olsen-homepornreality-threesome-gripgand
