TRIGGER WARNING: This story includes brief references to suicidal thoughts. Reader discretion is advised.
Watching Annabelle innocently admire the forest’s natural beauty from her spot on the ridge below, Lauren felt the deep rage, which usually swirled endlessly in the pit of her stomach, simply fade away. Relieved by the lifted burden, she descended the slope with a contented smile to join the youngest of the Klein family.
‘She’s beautiful, isn’t she? Mother Nature, I mean,’ Annabelle said. ‘I’ve never been anywhere as beautiful as this place.’
‘Yes, she is,’ Lauren replied, but she wasn’t looking at the forest. Instead her eyes were fixed on Annabelle’s soft features.
Lauren had never been able to pin down why Annabelle made her feel the way she did. Maybe it was how starkly they contrasted: Lauren a rebellious tomboy, Annabelle an innocent dreamer. Perhaps it was envy that attracted her, tempting her with a taste of parents who loved their daughter. Or could it be the child-like wonder Annabelle had retained? Her unyielding belief in true love and adoration of the world that was intoxicating to be around?
Whatever it was, nothing soothed Lauren’s inner demons like time spent with Annabelle. She didn’t even know she was doing it, of course, but in her presence all the anger and rejection and loneliness clogging Lauren’s soul was rendered inconsequential.
If she was a guy, Lauren would probably have made a move on her crush by now, but the last thing she wanted was to ruin their friendship. Well, actually, that was the only thing she wanted, but not without knowing there was a romance to replace it. So, rather than act on her attraction Lauren had forced it down and resigned herself to craving a romance she could not have.
Sitting down together they dangled their legs over the edge of the ridge. Lying back, they stared up at the undulating green ocean above.
‘I guess things haven’t got any better at home?’ Annabelle said.
Despite growing up with her, Lauren often forgot how sensitive Annabelle was. She was wise to the emotions of others in a way few could match. Lauren sometimes wondered if Annabelle already knew about her crush, but if she did she didn’t say anything.
‘Not so much,’ Lauren sighed. ‘For all dad cares it wouldn’t matter if I burst into flames and mum is too busy eating herself into an early grave to pay any attention to me.’
‘Friends?’
Lauren scoffed. ‘What, you mean the druggies and petty thieves? I ditched them a while back. I’m not cut out for that life.’
‘Well that’s something at least. You deserve better than them.’
‘Still leaves me with nobody to talk to stuck in a house with parents who’d rather me be dead.’
For a few moments Annabelle said nothing. When she spoke Lauren could hear the underlying emotion in her voice. ‘You tried again?’
‘No.’
‘You thought about it?’
‘A lot.’
Lauren didn’t have friends, only Annabelle. The Klein daughter was the only person she had ever opened up to and thus was the only one who knew of Lauren’s darker struggles. Lauren often felt guilty for having opened up at all, but Annabelle always insisted she was there to listen, even if that meant staying up all night talking Lauren down from something terrible.
Again, Annabelle fell silent. Lauren did not look over, but she could imagine the look in her friend’s eyes. That wide, sad stare she had whenever she imagined Lauren in pain.
‘You know,’ she said at last, ‘maybe you could come home with us this year?’
Lauren frowned and rolled onto her side. ‘What do you mean?’
Annabelle rolled over too and Lauren felt like they were two lovers laid close in bed. ‘Well, what’s holding you at home? You’ve said yourself your parents wouldn’t miss you and you’ve not got college or university to worry about. Mum and dad have said before they’d take you in if you needed somewhere to go. Maybe we could talk to them and see about you moving in?’
‘You’ve said this before, Annie –’
‘I know but that was when you were still studying. There’s nothing holding you there anymore. Please, at least let’s ask. I can’t bear the thought of you stuck there knowing one bad night could be your last. I know you don’t think much of yourself but there are people who care about you and I’m one of them. Please, Lauren.’
Lauren struggled to fight off tears. Feeling loved was something foreign and she didn’t know quite how to deal with it. Her emotion usually came out in screams and fits of rage, but she didn’t cry. As such, though she managed to stem the tears the lump in her throat cracked her voice.
‘I’d like that.’
Smiling, Annabelle rose to her feet and offered Lauren a hand. ‘Then let’s head back. I think it’s best we plan what to say to mum and dad before they get back. Come on.’
Accepting Annabelle’s hand, Lauren fell into step beside her and together they started down the winding track back to the Klein cabin.
It was strangely quiet when they got back. After wandering through the forest for several hours they had expected Paige would be back from her run by now. As for Daniel, he hadn’t even mentioned he would be heading out.
‘Maybe they went down to the lake,’ Lauren shrugged when their shouts went unanswered.
‘You’re probably right,’ Annabelle nodded. Taking Lauren by the hand she tugged her through the lounge and up the stairs. ‘Come on, we can talk in my room.’
As they passed through the lounge they failed to notice the discarded clothes nestled at the foot of the sofa, nor Annabelle’s abandoned headphones, which had somehow managed to wind up underneath the coffee table. As they ascended the stairs, the hushed giggles further down the hall were masked by their conversation, as was the faint creak of springs that slowed but did not stop.
Soon they were in Annabelle’s room and the sounds were extinguished by the thick wooden door.
Flopping down on the bed Annabelle invited Lauren to sit by patting the duvet beside her. Lauren winced awkwardly. ‘Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I know you’re the bouncy, fairy sort who always looks your best, but I’m one of the normal people and we sweat. After that walk I’m practically dripping. Unless you want me to stink up your duvet I’d say it’s better if I just sit on the floor.’
‘Don’t be silly, you can just get changed. I’m sure mum won’t mind washing your clothes when she gets back.’
‘In case you’d forgotten all my clothes are still in my suitcase at my cabin.’
Annabelle waved her comment away and crossed over to her wardrobe. ‘That doesn’t matter. There were some clothes already in the wardrobe when I unpacked mine last night. They looked like they’d fit you. Here.’
Producing a pair of joggers and a pale t-shirt, Annabelle tossed them playfully so they landed around Lauren’s shoulders. The feel of the material on her skin sent a thrill through Lauren’s body and she felt oddly boisterous.
‘You want to watch?’ she grinned.
‘I’ll pass,’ Annabelle giggled, ‘just get changed in the bathroom.’
Wondering why she had made the suggestion at all, Lauren nodded and headed into the en suite. Draping the clothes over the rim of the sink she closed the door behind her without noticing Annabelle’s attention turn to something in the wardrobe.
The bathroom was a rustic space with a view of the surrounding woods. Peeling off her sweaty shirt, Lauren paused to stare at her reflection. Her skin glistened with sweat and damp patches had bloomed across the underside of her bra. She felt sticky and unclean and the more she looked at herself the more frustrated she became.
What must she look like to Annabelle? Scruffy hair, sweaty all over, angsty eyeshadow and sullen expression: she was as much a mess physically as emotionally. Part of her wanted to smash the mirror just so she didn’t have to see her reflection. She considered mirrors a form of torture for they showed her the two sides of herself fighting for dominance: the outer shell, gruff and grouchy and wishing she had the life of a bad boy who didn’t have to answer to anybody, at odds with her inner innocence, a sweet, girlish personality not unlike Annabelle, trapped inside and fighting not to be snuffed out entirely.
Taking up the joggers a flare of boisterous energy burst through her once more. They made the skin of her fingers tingle and all at once she was desperate to try them on. Drawn in, she kicked off her trousers and slid them on.
Lauren never managed to don the accompanying shirt, for no sooner had she tugged the cord tight around her waist than a dramatic transformation overcame her.
The first she felt of it was the creak of her expanding shoulders. Staring slack-jawed at her reflection them push wider and swell with muscle. Prominent veins surfaced, snaking down the length of her arms and carrying the expansion with them; she looked like a Barbie doll who’d had her arms replaced by those of a wrestling toy and soon more body parts were being replaced.
Beneath her tomboy façade Lauren was surprisingly slim, which made the transformation of her torso all the more shocking. Her flat stomach carved itself into concrete abs while her breasts sank and spread into tight pecs, dusted by a fine layer of chest chair that dropped all the way to the muscular V developing over her hips. With a resounding snap her bra gave in, but she was too focused on the tingling sensation as her body hair continued to migrate down to pay any mind, a sensation which culminated in a ticklish burst as her shaven pussy sprouted a short-cropped mane.
Heralded by her new pubes, her stomach flipped as a hard rod pushed out to tent her joggers. She felt the folds of her sex melt into the growing member and gasped at the sudden weight of two heavy balls. She was so hard her cock pulled the waist of the joggers away from her stomach and through the ensuing gap she could admire the thick, throbbing pipe she now possessed.
Once the changes stopped, Lauren staggered against the basin. Spotting her reflection, a shriek caught in her throat: staring back at her was a handsome man with curly hair, a close-cropped beard and piercing eyes.
Locking eyes with herself everything slotted into place and Lauren faded, her thoughts and memories dissolving like snow on skin.
Lincoln heard a sensual moan from the bedroom and allowed himself a smirk. The girl was probably already imagining submitting to him. Chuckling, he idly massaged his cock and crept out of the room…
Caressing the pastel pink leotard, Annabelle shivered with delight. It was so soft and enticing. Hidden behind the joggers, she hadn’t noticed it when she was unpacking, but it caught her eye immediately once they were removed.
Holding it against her chest in front of the long mirror set in the corner of the room, she admired herself from different angles and imagined what it would look like on. The very thought of trying it on seemed deliciously naughty – it was far more revealing than anything she’d usually wear and looked like something the airhead sluts in her college might buy – yet that only made her want to try it on more.
Sometimes she envied those girls. They didn’t have to worry about anything but looking hot flaunting their assets to horny jocks. They always seemed so carefree and satisfied while Annabelle was left wondering what it was like to live in their world.
Imagining herself in the leotard unearthed one of her secret fantasies. She’d lost count of how many sleazy jocks had hit on her at college thinking she’d be an easy lay. In the real world she knew getting involved with them was a bad idea, but that hadn’t stopped her fantasising about what it might be like to worship them. How it would feel to free that dirty, slutty voice she kept locked away and allow it to guide her into a life of desire.
That voice wove through her thoughts now, making her shiver. It couldn’t hurt to try it on, could it? If she was quick she could have it on and off before Lauren got out.
Possessed by the idea she wriggled quickly out of her clothes and into the leotard. The material glided smoothly over her skin and she soon had it buttoned to the top. It felt good. The leotard showed off her legs and hugged her slender figure, but it was deeper than that – it flaunted her naughty side.
Making a few provocative poses, Annabelle was blind to her transformation, failing to notice her figure fill out, or her pale skin shift to olive, or the sultry make-up brush across her features. All she cared about was looking sexy and soon she was doing things she would have never dreamed of doing before.
One by one she undid the buttons until her engorged breasts were almost laid bare. As the neckline of her leotard slowly descended, slutty, corruptive tendrils worked their way through her thoughts.
Jiggling her tits, she giggled girlishly. She looked hot. No bad boy would be able to resist her if they found her like this, all innocent and exposed. She practiced a naughty pout in the mirror and fantasised about a hung stud walking into her room and finding her like this.
Underneath it all, Annabelle was succumbing to the desires of her new body. Once her hand dropped to her crotch the transformation was complete and Abella was born.
Grinding her fingers over her panties, Abella let out a breathy gasp at the rush of pleasure. It felt like she’d never done that before, though of course she had: Abella had masturbated just about everywhere. Savouring the sensation, she retreated to the bed before unbuttoning her leotard fully and slipping her hand down to get more intimate with herself.
From somewhere deeper in the house she thought she heard an orgasmic moan. Aroused by the noise, she matched it, slowly circling her clit with experienced fingers and drawing it out into a long, sensual groan.
‘Already horny, I see.’
The deep voice startled her and she panicked her father had come in. Rolling over she caught sight of the bare-chested man standing over her. She hadn’t heard him slip out of the bathroom, but she smiled coyly as her mind filled in the blanks.
‘Why wouldn’t I be? After all, I’ve got the hottest guy in college all to myself.’ Surging to her knees she shuffled to the edge of the bed and, pulling him close by his waistband, pressed herself into his chest. In the same motion her hand eased into his trousers and massaged his snake. ‘How about we make it a day to remember?’
‘My thoughts exactly,’ Lincoln replied, slipping his hand down her open leotard. She gasped as his knuckles grazed her clit and then they were moving back onto the bed kissing and groping one another.
Lincoln’s chest rubbed against her naked breasts. When he pulled away the air felt cold on her skin and she craved the heat of their bodies pressing up together. His fingers were quickly inside her, eagerly exploring deeper, and she rolled her body to rhythm of his thrusting digits, allowing his fingertips to caress the deepest parts of her insides.
Rocked with erotic shockwaves she abandoned her hold of his cock so he could move in closer. With one arm looped around his neck she guided his hot lips to her neck where they nibbled and sucked incessantly. His beard prickled her skin, but rather than being uncomfortable it sent shivers through her: she liked how rough he was being.
‘Fuck, you’re good at this,’ she breathed. His fingers were pistons pumping in and out. Every touch was electric.
‘I’ve had plenty of practice, haven’t I?’ he growled. ‘All your bitchy friends. A few of our teachers. Even your prude sister. I’ve laid them all, all for you.’
Abella groaned, imagining Lincoln fucking her sister knowing he was going to abandon her afterwards. Knowing such a handsome man would never crave anyone but her made her hot and horny. Then again, she was craving him too, and he wasn’t the only one who could be rough. Grabbing him by his curly hair she pulled him into a deep kiss.
‘Oh yeah? If you’ve been practicing so much, maybe you should show me what you’ve learned.’ With a wicked grin Abella forced his head down suggestively.
Pulling har arms free of the leotard, Abella was about to remove it when Lincoln took hold of her. She had awoken an animal hunger in him, a hunger only her sweet pussy nectar could satisfy. Flipping her giggling onto her back he wrenched the leotard off and flung it aside. Drawn like a moth to flame he latched onto her glistening sex, instinctively spreading her legs to delve his tongue as deep as possible. His hands were like iron cuffs holding her ankles in place.
Abella’s brain span with the speed of his attack: one second she had been teasing him, the next his head was buried between her thighs racking her body with ecstasy.
‘Oh god, oh god, oh god,’ she whimpered.
‘That’s right, bitch.I’m your god now.’
‘Ho-ly fuuuuuck…’ Her voice trailed off into a rolling groan.
Even if she didn’t know Lincoln’s reputation his experience was obvious: no man knew their way around a woman’s body so well without extensive practice. His fingers danced over her breasts and thighs, his tongue sang over her sensitive pussy, and the way his tightly pursed lips grazed her swollen clit just enough to send her into a frenzy was masterfully executed.
Abella’s back arced as he bought her to the edge. With his weaving tongue driving her wild, her horny giggle pitched into a desperate whine only to catch in her throat as her orgasm broke. Her lips shaped into a perfect ‘O’ but no sound would pass her lips. Instead she tensed all over, holding his head in place until her orgasm faded.
As Lincoln pulled away to stand up, Abella demonstrated the skill only true sluts could master. Unlike her inferiors she was not exhausted by her orgasm – she was empowered by it. Stretching out, orgasmic aftershocks still racking her body, she reached around and parted her plump ass. Her trembling pussy twinkled, the darker pink of her insides just visible through her spread lips.
‘Don’t you want more of me, stud?’ she whined.
He had his back to her and was rustling through the bedside table. Now he turned with a strip of golden foil in his grasp. ‘Of course, but a guy has to be prepared. Don’t want to knock up my new slut, now do I?’
Abella purred sensually. ‘Mmmh, no. Nobody gets to call you daddy but me.’
Without warning, Lincoln dropped his joggers. Abella paled a shade. She’d figured he’d be big: all the girls in her clique swooned at the mention of his meat, it was an open secret every other jock in school envied his size, and her sister had struggled to walk for a week after one night with him.
But big was an understatement. Jutting from his crotch was a rigid, succulent log almost as long as her forearm. Her rational mind panicked, but she was no longer controlled by that part of her brain. The slut was in control now, and no slut would ever turn down something so magnificent.
Swaying her ass, she smirked. ‘So? Are you going to make that thing useful or are you just going to stand there jerking?’
Lincoln grinned back. ‘What do you think?’ In a heartbeat he was on the bed pulling her onto all fours. His head pressed against her opening, the slick head of the condom gliding between her folds. He held it there briefly, letting her savour it. Then he leaned in close. ‘I hope your parents aren’t nearby because I’m about to defile their little girl like I’m paying for it.’
For Abella, his powerful thrust passed in slow motion. She felt her pussy mould around the contours of his shaft. She felt the rigid underside grinding between her lips and the raised veins pulsing a tattoo of lust. She felt the dome of the head delve ever deeper, mining for pleasure, each inch somehow followed by more until she thought he might go on forever. And she felt the slam of his balls against her clit, culminating his entry with a burst of shocking pleasure that took her breath away and left her nub throbbing.
Abella had no words. Her senses failed her. All she could do was slump uselessly onto the bed with her eyelids fluttering as Lincoln began to pump.
Lincoln scoffed. ‘That’s right, bitch. You’re mine now.’
A mischievous grin spread across Abella’s features as he slammed in and out. She had imagined this moment for so long. Now it was here her wildest dreams paled in comparison.
Abella and Lincoln had circled one another for months. Like prowling predators they had eyed up their prey, stalking ever closer until they could pounce. They were college royalty – him the handsome king, her the ravishing queen – and their game of seductive chess had drawn them ever closer.
The game had been largely meaningless; they had both known how it would end. But it had provided the chance to hone their skills. While Lincoln had worked his way through Abella’s slutty friends and an assortment of other hot women, she had been hard at work practicing on the football team, the hot coaches and half the guys in his family.
With the game complete, all their pawns had been abandoned. Only the consummation of their power remained. Once they were together they would be a true power couple. Having fucked their way to one another, their combined sexual prowess would be the envy of all their peers and they would accrue a slew of desperate acolytes hoping to get a taste of their love. They would be adored, worshipped even, eternally linked by their bond of animalistic lust.
Tangled together as they were that animal nature soon took hold.
Twisting around to lie on her back, Abella lured him into her trap with a sultry gaze. When he leaned to kiss her she gripped his shoulders and dragged him down, flipping their positions so she was on top.
His thick shaft slid free in the scuffle but she immediately fed it back into her hungry snatch. Lincoln pushed in deeper than before, tearing a sensual cry from Abella’s lips. He smirked and reached around to spank her.
‘Too much for you, bitch?’
With a great effort Abella bought her trembling body under control. Danger glittered in her eyes. ‘Not enough,’ she hissed, ‘never enough. I’ve never met a guy who could satisfy me.’
‘You’d not met me,’ Lincoln grinned before Abella’s world disintegrated.
Gripping her by the hips Lincoln hammered a barrage of pleasure through her slutty frame. He impaled her deeper than anyone ever had, his cock twisting her stomach. The spring of the bed, which fired him up whenever he pulled back, compounded with her own weight made it feel like he was splitting her in half and she felt suddenly fragile.
She was a porcelain doll, pristine and delicate.
He’d been right – he was different to the others. No man had ever pushed through the outer slut to her girlish core, but in Lincoln’s arms she wanted to be dirty and innocent all at once. She wanted to be his perfect girl, whatever that entailed.
Pressing her face into his she coiled one hand around his head and kissed him.
‘Fuck, you’re so hard. You’re so big. I love this. I love you. We were made for each other.’
‘I love you too, baby girl,’ Lincoln said, punctuating his words with mind-blowing thrusts, ‘I think you’re right. People like you and me belong together. I’m going to cover every inch of you in cum.’
At the mention of his cum she was suddenly starving for a taste. ‘Well I’ve got a lot of ass to cover. How about we get started now?’
Without waiting for a response Abella span to face away from and, leaning back, planted her hands on the sheets beside his shoulders, pinning him in as she closed her eyes and started to ride.
Drawing on her experience she devastated Lincoln’s stamina with her favourite move. Not only did she bounce vigorously but also rocked her hips to work his cock horizontally as well as vertically. The motion acted like a tight hand jerking him off inside her.
Lincoln’s mind melted. He was halfway to her arm with the plan of kissing its length while she rode him when he was struck by a wall of pleasure that rendered him a dysfunctional wreck. His head lolled against her arm before rolling back as his hands scrabbled uselessly for something to hold.
Eventually he reached up to grab her breasts: they were the only thing grounding him in reality.
‘Mmmh, good boy. I want your hot cum. I know you’re close. Cum for me.’
Lincoln didn’t last long. Abella had spent months perfecting the move and no man could last more than a minute under the onslaught. He came hard, so hard he could only wheeze as his whole body tensed, cutting off his roar of release.
Abella felt the condom balloon as it swelled with his cum. She wanted it inside her so bad but she was frustratingly out of pills. It didn’t matter though – there would be plenty of opportunity for Lincoln to fill her cunt in the future, and until then there were always other holes he could make use of.
Milking him dry, Abella moaned. ‘I can’t wait until you can fill my hot pussy for real, baby.’ She was rewarded by an extra squirt.
‘Fuck that was intense,’ Lincoln gasped.
‘Get used to it, stud. It’s not fucking if it’s not intense. Now paint my ass with that cum.’
Obediently, Lincoln pulled out and kneeled over her. As she rolled onto her front and twerked her fat ass he removed the condom. The tip was weighted with his heavy load, streaks of which laced his softening cock. Upending it he decorated her ass with the contents.
Breathless, they both slumped down. Drop by drop, Abella scooped up the cum, laid it over her tongue and swallowed it. Lincoln watched, stroking his twitching cock slowly.
As Abella was finishing off the last of her meal a loud, passionate howl cut through the silence. It came from somewhere deeper in the cabin and was followed by a drumming noise that sounded suspiciously like a headboard knocking against a wall.
Abella smiled. Hopping from the bed she took up the strip of condoms. ‘It sounds like we’re not the only ones enjoying our holiday. How about we go and pay our naughty neighbours a little visit?’
Meanwhile, on the hiking trail…
Thanks for reading!
Abella Danger is arguably one of the hardest working models in the adult industry and you only have to look at her PornHub pornstar rank to see where that’s got her: https://www.pornhub.com/pornstar/abella-danger. Of course, I am not saying other models do not work hard, but Danger’s body of work speaks for itself when it comes to dedication and raw talent. As stupid as it feels to me now, I wasn’t actually much of a fan when I first came across her work. Up to then I had been mainly interested in plastic bimbos, especially MILF models, but Danger was among a few models who really expanded my taste in porn. She can do passion just as well as rough-fucking, and every second watching her work is always a joy.
Throughout the process of writing this series, I have tried my best to craft memorable characters. In the shorter stories I usually release most of the characters are fairly forgettable and even I lose track of their names once their story has been published. For longer stories, I do try and create more intriguing characters, but Lake Fantasy provided a different challenge purely due to the fact there were so many characters to juggle and they were so deeply connected with one another.
Interwoven narratives are something I really enjoy, and I wanted all my characters to be rounded and memorable. The downside of this approach is that creating fleshed-out characters takes time and, like this chapter, can lead to a slow burn story. As I wrote Lake Fantasy I have to admit I was very nervous that people wouldn’t care about the characters and would get impatient waiting for the transformations/sex to kick in. I hope that isn’t the case now they’re releasing.
Fortunately I have some great support from other creators, and they made the very good point that this series is very different to anything I’ve written before and should be treated as such. I often forget the writing wisdom ‘write what you want to write, not what you think others want to read’, so it is nice to be reminded when I need it.
I know this long, interconnected narrative will not be for everyone, nor will the fact that I am spending time building up my characters thus pushing some of the chapters into slow burn stories, but at the end of the day, this is what I wanted to write. With so many characters floating around, having them all take on stereotypical roles, lack in motivation or just be forgettable names with no personality or appeal would be a disservice to the story as a whole, especially given how much effort I put into getting it right.
I would love to hear your thoughts on my work, so please leave me a comment!
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