"Ready Vicky?" I asked and she nodded her acceptance.

My hand reached down and grasped the hem of her loose fitting skirt which I slowly raised uncovering a vision of loveliness which took my breath away. Slim, perfectly shaped calves and thighs covered in stockings, no pantyhose thank God, this lady had come prepared for a spanking. Her lovely bum was partially covered by lace panties. I placed the skirt over her back and my hand settled on her right buttock. A low moan came from Vicky as I slid my hand under the edge of her panties and then pulled them up into the crack between her legs. Another moan as I repeated the uncovering of her left buttock. I now had plenty of skin
to smack while Vicky retained her modesty. My hand roamed in circles over her perfectly smooth skin, Vicky was a spanker's delight.

As usual my first spanks were quite light and covered all the bared skin as well as Vicky's upper thighs. I like to warm up my spankees gradually and the longer the spanking takes the more I enjoy it, and hopefully, so does the lady lying across my lap. There was no sound from Vicky as the quiet smacks continues to land.

Slowly but surely the spanks fell harder. A few "ohs" and "ahs" came from Vicky, they were sounds of pleasure, not sounds of pain. Her lovely skin started to change from it's luminescent white to a pale shade of pink. One of thew things I love about spanking is the change of color of the buttocks as the spanking proceeds.

I paused and asked Vicky if she was OK before I made the spanks started to hurt. She turned her head back to me just nodded and grinned, she was enjoying the experience!

The next spank was firmer and brought an "Ouch" from Vicky, I smiled to myself and began to cover the pink skin with firm whacks. Vicky started to wriggle a bit on my lap which was having the usual effect on my cock, there was no doubt I would need some relief in that area later tonight.

I continued to spank harder, "Yikes, Ouch, Owww," came from Vicky as her skin continued to change to a deeper pink. I loved watching the ripple effect as her skin bowed under my hand and then bounced back to its natural shape.

"Shit, this is so fucking good Matt, Ahhhh, this is a real turn on for me, this is the best, Ouch, spanking I've ever had," Vicky cried.

I paused for a minute to survey my work, all of Vicky's bum and her upper thighs were now a lovely shade of bright pink. Vicky voiced no objection as I placed my hand under the elastic of her panties, eased them out of her crack and pulled them down over her thighs and knees which she bent so I could easily take the panties off over her feet. Again no objection as I parted her thighs bringing her pussy into view.

"Whack" - "Yeeeeow!" The spanking continued, the pink skin slowly turned red. Every spank was bringing a verbal reaction now and Vicky's wriggling was quite strong. I held my left hand firmly to keep her in position as my right hand continued to rise and fall, with a slight pause between each spank. Her lovely arse was now bright red and my spanks were almost as hard as I could give. I cursed myself for not having my hairbrush handy as my hand was now stinging.

I heard a few sobs coming from Vicky but kept on spanking - hard. Some of her language was very unladylike but nothing I hadn't heard before.

Finally, "Mercy, please Matt, mercy," Vicky cried out.

I immediately ceased spanking that lovely, bright red skin and gently circled her hot arse with my right hand as my left stroked up and down her back. Vicky was giving little sniffles but had taken her first real spanking very well.

I let her calm down and finally she spoke, "Wow Matt, that was just fantastic, I didn't think a spanking could be soooo good. Pain and pleasure really go together don't they?"

"Not for everyone Vicky, but definitely for you," I replied, "When you feel up to it you can stand up, but you may not be able to sit down for a while!" Vicky remained across my legs for a few more minutes, I continued to stroke her arse while she regained her composure.

Then she stood and her skirt fell back down into position. Vicky then amazed me by lifting the front of her skirt up displaying her pussy. Her fingers brushed over her pubic hair and she exclaimed, "Shit I'm so wet Matt, what a turn on, would you...........?" her voice quavered as the question was left unfinished.

I shook my head. "No Vicky I won't. Your husband very kindly let you out tonight for a spanking and that's all you'll get from me. I have a private rule that I never have sex with married women. I know that's old fashioned in this day and age but that's the way it is. Don't think for one second that I'm not attracted to you because the bulge in my trousers shows that I am, but any fuck you get tonight will have to be from your husband. Now are you going to spank me?"

"Gee that's really nice Matt," Vicky said as she dropped her skirt. "Yes, you're right, I have to do the right thing by my husband, I'll have to phone him before I leave so he's up and ready for me! Ha ha. I'd love to spank you but I don't think I can sit down for a while, how can we do it?"

"See that chair over there," I said pointing to a low, old, leather covered chair, "How about I stand behind it and bend over the back? Then you can stand behind me and spank me. If that's OK with you I'm now taking your orders, my Lady,"

I bowed to Vicky from the waist and then walked over and stood behind the chair.

Vicky followed and barked orders at me, this lady was getting into the swing of things!

"Slip of your shoes Matt, take your trousers off and then bend over the chair!"

I did as I was bid and my hands grasped the arms of the chair. It was a position not unfamiliar to me and my arse was now pointing up towards the ceiling. I felt Vicky's hands grasp the elastic of my briefs and then they were lowered to the floor. M'Lady was now in complete charge and obviously enjoying her unfamiliar feelings of being in charge. One of her hands wacked me between my thighs and I obediently spread my legs.

Vicky's hand slipped between my legs and grasped my half hard cock. She slid her hand up and down, wanking gently until I was again rock hard. I bit my lip and stayed silent. What I couldn't see was with her free hand Vicky was bringing herself to orgasm, a low moan came from behind me as she exclaimed, "Oh I just had to do that, now I feel ready to give you a good spanking. What a waste of a good hard on." She exclaimed as she gave my cock a final hard squeeze, released me and then placed her hand on my arse,

Gently she started to spank me, softly at first but then, as she gained confidence the whacks grew stronger. Compared to other spankings I've had by experienced spankers it was easy to take but this was to change.

"Your arse is starting to change color now Matt," Vicky said with a little awe in her voice, "Am I going OK? Am I spanking you properly?"

"You're going fine Vicky, but you can go a bit harder if you want to," I replied.

Her answer was delivered physically as a much harder "whack" landed, followed by more of the same. My arse was now starting to sting and a genuine "Ouch" escaped from my lips.

"Good, that's what I want to hear, some reaction from you Matt," Vicky exclaimed with more than a hint of pride in her voice. M'Lady was enjoying herself!

Whack, smack, pow! The hits continued to fall and my cock continued to give away how much effect the spanking was having on me.

I was forced to verbalize my feelings. "Oww, Ouch, Ahhh, you're spanking really well Vicky, but not so hard please!"

"Don't be a wimp, Matt, I bet you've had worse thrashings than this haven't you? Or are you just trying to stir me on? Shit my hands are getting a bit sore' I'm not used to this, what else can I use that will realllllllly sting you?" Vicky laughed as she spoke.

"I'm sure you won't have to look too far Vicky."

"Ah-hah!" burst from a triumphant sounding Vicky behind me, "This belt in your trousers will do just fine." Her hand rubbed over my warm cheeks, "I'm really going to make your arse hot now Matt, keep your head down and your bottom up!"

"Yes M'Lady" I said, smiling to myself, Vicky's voice was now sounding very confident, such a change to how it was earlier that night. I heard her change position and then felt the leather belt touch me as she got the range just right. I knew that this would sting and braced myself.

Whoosh - pow, the belt exploded on my bum.

"Yeow! Bloody hell, that hurts!' I exclaimed, automatically dropping into the Aussie vernacular.

"And there's more where that came from too!" cried Vicky as once again the belt lit up my bum.

'Whack, whack , whack' there was no let up as Vicky let fly, really enjoying her new found dominant side. I was now twisting around over the back of the chair and the belt was really stinging.

"I can't take much more of this Vicky," I cried, "And I'm not joking. I'll have to use the code word soon if you don't stop"

"OK, just six more swipes Matt and then I'll stop. Can you take six more?" I nodded my acceptance and she went on. "I want you to count them out loud Matt and I'll reward you if you take them well." Again I nodded, my mind wondering what she had planned.

Whack - "Ow, one."

Thwack - Ohhhhhh, two.

Fwump - "Jesus Christ! three"

Slap - "Yahhhhh, four."

Hwosh - "Ahhhoooo, Five."

Fwap - "Aieeeeee, six."

"God Matt, you should see the marks across your arse!" Vicky cried as she moved behind me once again and gently touched me with her hands. "I couldn't see them so well from the side but they are bright red, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hit you so hard, I got a bit carried away. Oh your bum is so hot, how did you stand it?"

"It's OK Vicky," I said as I struggled to my feet, turning to face her with a few tears in my eyes. My cock was still standing straight out. "I've had a couple of worse thrashings but yours was pretty good, congratulations, for a first timer you did very well."

Vicky wrapped her arms around me and gave me a giant hug. She gave me a kiss on the lips and then stood on tip toe and licked me.

Never Again 

Saturday morning, Natalie woke up and moaned. She was stretched out flat on
her stomach, one hand furiously rubbing her stinging behind. "Never again,"
she promised herself. Last time she would ever do her little sister a favor.
She could not believe the trouble Caitlin had gotten them both into. . .

* * *

"Natalie, please," Caitlin begged, her blue eyes shining. "Just this once?
Please buy beer for me. I already promised everyone that you would."

"Well, that was stupid," Natalie told her. "You shouldn't have said that
without asking me first. You guys are only 14. You shouldn't be drinking."

Caitlin laughed out loud. "Oh, right, Nat. Like you didn't. You didn't come
stumbling home from your eighth grade graduation party." 

Natalie hid a grin, even while wincing at the memory of what had happened when
her father caught her. Caitlin was too damn smart for her own good. Without a
mother, the Johnson girls had grown up fast.

"You remember what is was like," Caitlin went on, playing on her sister's
sympathy. "When you just wanted to have a few beers and had no way to get
them. Oh, I forgot," she said pointedly. "You had Alli to buy for you."

"Where are you guys going?" Natalie asked, wavering.

Caitlin's eyes lit up. Natalie had never seen her sister become so excited.
"Just to the fields by school - where you used to go," she added. "We're not
going to do anything bad, I promise. Just hang out. You are so lucky to have
an ID," she said jealously. 

Natalie was lucky and she knew it. She had just gotten it, from the older
sister of one of her friends. She could get into all the cool places now and
hang out with her older friends. Of course, it didn't hurt that Natalie had
looked about 21 since the time she started high school.

"Please," Caitlin begged. "I'll do anything for you. I owe you big time, I
promise."

"What do you need?" Natalie asked, finally relenting. This was somewhat
against her better judgment. But Caitlin was right, Natalie did remember the
days of just wanting to have a little harmless fun. And how happy she was when
Allison sometimes helped out. Plus, it was nice to see Caitlin actually being
pleasant for a change.

Caitlin's entire face lit up. "Oh, thank you, thank you!" she cried, hugging
her sister. "I love you forever. How about 2 cases of Budweiser and 1 case of
Bud Light?" she asked. "And maybe a bottle of Absolut?"

"Three cases!" Natalie cried. "And vodka! What are you all alcoholics?"

Caitlin rolled her eyes. "I'll give you money," she said calmly.

"You sure will," Natalie said. "And I mean it, Cait, you and your little
friends better be good. This is my ass on the line. You better not let Dad
find out. He'll kill me if he knows I am supporting the drinking habits of
minors."

"I would never tell him you bought for me," Caitlin said, horrified. "He'd
kill us both."

She was right. Rob would be furious if he found up what his daughters were up
to. Natalie and Caitlin were most definitely the troublemakers of the family.
Natalie was 16, a stunning brunette who had inherited Rob's dark good looks and
athletic physique. She was fun and good natured, but had a natural tendency to
find trouble. She was often the mastermind of devious plans. Caitlin was
blond and beautiful, but she could be downright cruel. She was cynical and
much harder than any of her sisters.

Rob Johnson had his hands full raising five fun loving and mischievous
daughters. His ex-wife Michelle had taken off years ago after a bitter
divorce, leaving him alone with the girls. It would be a difficult task for
anyone to raise five daughters, but Rob loved his girls. 

He was a businessman who traveled often, but he did his best to keep his
daughters in some semblance of a line. He was a tall man at 6'4", with broad
shoulders and strong, sturdy thighs. He had played football all through
college and had a chance at going pro, but his high school sweetheart Michelle
had become pregnant with their oldest daughter, Allison. Rob had worked hard
over the years to give his daughters a comfortable life in an affluent suburb. 

Discipline was clear in the Johnson household. Rob's orders were to be
followed and breaches in house rules were punished. Because he traveled so
often, he found it hard to enforce groundings. His daughters were too sneaky.
Therefore, he found physical punishment much more effective. It got their
attention quick and fast, and his daughters were usually very repentant. While
the Johnson girls were not eager to admit that they were spanked well into
their teens, Rob was not the least bit afraid to put his daughters over his
knee for some very well deserved punishments. He was a disciplinarian, but
also very loving and affectionate. 

* * *

Natalie bought Caitlin's three cases of beer and her bottle of vodka. She even
dropped Caitlin and four of her friends off in their fields, before returning
home to get ready for her own evening out.

Natalie and her friends hit a few bars, had a few drinks, and it was well after
2am when she arrived home.
Caitlin's twin Lindsay was just saying goodbye to her boyfriend Steve when
Natalie let herself in the house. "You're dead," Lindsay said simply. She
looked around. "You didn't bring any friends home, did you?"

Natalie was confused. "No, why? What difference does it make? What's wrong,
Linds?"

Lindsay held up a finger, careful not to say too much in front of Steve. She
and her boyfriend had just arrived home less than an hour ago, when her father
was flipping out on Caitlin and one of Caitlin's friends. Lindsay half
expected her father to spank Caitlin right there in the kitchen, audience or
not. It was bad enough he told Caitlin she wasn't going to be able to sit on
her ass for a week. Not exactly the kind of scene you wanted your boyfriend to
overhear. 

Natalie sensed something was wrong. She even had a feeling Caitlin may have
been caught drinking. "She would never implicate me," Natalie thought. "She
wouldn't dare." She watched impatiently as Lindsay kissed Steve goodnight and
walked him to the door.

"What's going on?" Natalie almost screamed, once Steve was safely out of
hearing.

Lindsay looked upset. "Did you buy alcohol for Caitlin's friends or
something?"

Natalie's heart just about stopped. "What happened?" she asked, her voice just
above a whisper. She actually felt a little dizzy.

"Caitlin's little drinking party in the fields got busted," Lindsay told her
hesitantly. "The police broke it up. They caught a bunch of them running, and
they got Caitlin. Dad had to pick her up. And her friend Kristen got sick
from the vodka. She's okay, but while Dad was screaming at Caitlin, Kristen's
mother called, saying you were the one who bought it. Daddy asked if it were
true and Caitlin finally said yes."

"Oh, Christ," Natalie cried, sinking into the sofa. "Oh, that little
bitch...I'll kill her." Wait til she got her hands on Caitlin. Natalie had
never been so furious. "Where's Dad and Caitlin now?" she asked her sister,
surprised by how shaky her voice sounded.

"He's driving Caitlin's friend Aimee home," Lindsay answered. "I'm sure glad I
wasn't out with them tonight. Daddy was flipping."

"Daddy's really mad?" Natalie asked, already knowing the answer. Her bottom
was already starting to tingle, knowing what was most likely in store for it.

Before Lindsay could answer, the front door flung open and Rob came storming
in, Caitlin trailing behind him. "I cannot believe Aimee puked in my Lexus,"
he shouted. "No one has ever thrown up in one of my cars."

"Dad, I'm sure she's sorry," Caitlin said defensively.

Rob's eyes were flaming. "Get upstairs and wait for me there, Caitlin Marie.
You're going to be the one who's even more sorry." He smacked her hard on her
backside and she went flying up the stairs in tears.

Rob noticed Natalie for the first time. "YOU!" he yelled, grabbing her wrist
and standing her up. "You are in so much trouble! What the hell were you
THINKING? Buying alcohol for a bunch of 14 year olds? Do you have a few
screws loose, Natalie? What the hell is WRONG with you?"

Lindsay discreetly slipped down into the basement where she could turn up the
TV and try to tune out the sounds of her father's anger and Natalie's pathetic
cries.

Natalie was literally shaking in her shoes. She had never heard her father
quite this angry before. The look in his eyes was positively terrifying.

"Dad, I'm sorry-" Natalie started, beginning to cry.

Rob smacked her bottom. "You want to cry? I'll give you something to cry
about!" he yelled. He smacked her again.

"I'm sorry!" Natalie cried again.

"You're sorry? That's the best you can do? Do you have any idea what could
happen if anything would have happened to those kids? They're underage!
You're underage!" he screamed. "Do you know that Kristen could have died from
alcohol poisoning? Or that Kristen's mother was ready to sue us for you buying
alcohol for her daughter?"

"It's not my fault if Caitlin's friends can't drink responsibly," Natalie
weakly protested, then wished she hadn't.

WHACK, WHACK, WHACK. Before she could blink, Rob had aimed three hard whacks
to the seat of her pants. Natalie's comment had infuriated him. "YOU BOUGHT
THEM LIQUOR!" he screamed at her, grabbing her hands when she tried to rub her
stinging behind.

Natalie tried, but could not get any words out to calm her father down. Not
that Rob could be pacified. "Do you have any idea how stupid this was?" he
screamed, shaking Natalie by her wrists.

Natalie was crying hysterically. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know it was so dumb,
I'm sorry," she cried. "I was just trying to help her out."

"Help her out?" Rob screamed at her. "No, Natalie, you do not help out a 14
year old by buying her friends beer. It was irresponsible of Caitlin, but you
should know better. It's against the law! Sometimes, I don't know how the
hell you think - Are you proud of yourself, Natalie? Do you feel like the cool
older sister now?" Rob stood over her menacingly. "You just wait, young lady,
you are in big trouble."
Natalie couldn't stop sobbing. "Daddy, I said I'm sorry," she begged.

"Not to mention one of your sister's idiot friends threw up in my Lexus," Rob
continued, ignoring her. His eyes narrowed. "And just where is this
'fantastic' ID I have heard so much about tonight?" he demanded. 

Natalie was not often scared of her father, but this time he had her truly
petrified. 

"Give me that ID," Rob ordered. Natalie could barely move. "So help me God
young lady," Rob threatened. "This is not the night to fuck with me."

With trembling fingers, Natalie fumbled through her pocketbook until she found
the ID. Rob grabbed it from her hand, then with one hand clenched firmly
around Natalie's hair, dragged her into the kitchen where he proceeded to take
a pair of scissors and cut the ID into bits in front of her.

Natalie watches as the torn pieces fluttered to the floor, tears streaming down
her face. 

Rob aimed another sharp swat at Natalie's right thigh. "You, young lady, get
your ass upstairs and get those hoochie black pants off before I get up there,
or I am going to tear them off. NOW!!" he hollered, when Natalie just stared
at him, frozen.

Rob stormed up the stairs behind her to the bedroom Caitlin and Lindsay shared.
Caitlin was curled up on her bed, hugging her knees and crying softly. 

"Get up," Rob ordered. He noticed she had already kicked off her mudstained
jeans - she had fallen when trying to run from the police.

"Daddy, I'm sorry," Caitlin's voice was shaking. She had some idea of what she
was in for. It had been hard not to hear him screaming at Natalie downstairs.

Rob glared at her. "Panties off," he told her.

"Daddy, no!" Caitlin cried. "Please no."

Rob ignored her. He took off his belt and slapped it on Lindsay's desk chair.
"I'm waiting," he said simply, tapping the belt impatiently.

Caitlin swore under her breath and kicked off her panties. 

Rob sat down on Lindsay's chair, pulling Caitlin in front of him. "You could
have been arrested tonight. You are fourteen years old. I don't care what
your older sisters did. You are too young to drink. And if I ever find out
that you are supplying alcohol to your friends again, I will put you over my
knee right there in front of them. Do you understand, young lady?"

"Yes," Caitlin whispered. 

Rob jumped up, spun her around, and let the leather strike her bottom, right at
her seat. Caitlin howled in pain. "I can't hear you," Rob snapped, and
quickly prevented her from rubbing her smarting bottom.

"I understand!" Caitlin shouted.

Without another word, Rob made her lean over Lindsay's chair, and proceeded to
whip her tiny bottom with his belt.

In her bedroom across the hall, Natalie was well aware her sister's spanking
was underway. She could hear every crack of the belt, as well as Caitlin's
screams and protests. Natalie knew she was in for even worse. She winced
every time the belt fell, her own bottom tingling uncomfortably in
anticipation.

Rob covered Caitlin's bottom with dozens of painful stingers, but stopped short
of leaving red and purple welts. He wanted to teach her a lesson that would
keep her on her toes for awhile, but he was far more concerned with punishing
her older sister. Ordinarily he made the punished daughter stand in the corner
for an hour or so, to add to her humiliation and to keep her from 
rubbing the sting away. However, Rob was in no mood to stay up and baby-sit
Caitlin, so he barked at her that she was grounded for 3 weeks and to get to
bed.

"Daddy, please don't spank Natalie," Caitlin begged, sobbing. "It's my fault.
I begged her. She was only helping me. Please." Caitlin did not want to be
the object of Natalie's wrath. She knew her sister was going to absolutely
kill her for this. 

"Natalie has a mind of her own," Rob said. "She can make her own decisions.
She's supposed to know better. That spanking you just got is nothing compared
to what Natalie's in for."

Before he went in to deal with Natalie he stopped into his own bedroom, and
removed a heavy brown leather strap from the closet. He had only used it once
before, when Allison was fifteen and supposed to be baby-sitting her little
sisters, but had taken off with a friend, leaving the girls home all alone.

Snapping the strap a few times to figure out how to make it really burn, he let
himself into Natalie's bedroom.

Natalie had already moved her desk chair into the center of the room, hoping
her cooperation would make her father go a little easier on her. Her black
pants were neatly folded on her bed and she had changed into a t-shirt. She
was sitting on the chair, sniffling and trembling.

Rob did not comment on her preparations. "Get that thong off," he snapped.
Natalie had left the thong on in the hopes that her father would see it offered
little protection and let her leave it on. Although, deep down she knew he was
going to make her take it off. She did not argue, just slipped it off and
waited for her father's next instructions. Caitlin's sobs were still audible
from across the hall.

"I don't think I need to lecture you anymore," Rob told her, his mouth firm.
"Your actions showed very bad judgment tonight. You're lucky things didn't
turn out worse. Do you realize what could have happened if Kristen had alcohol
poisoning? If her parents decided to sue?"

Natalie just nodded, not wishing to make her father any angrier. She jumped in
horror when she saw the brown strap in her father's hand. "Daddy?" she cried
hesitantly.

Rob swung it in front of her. "Natalie, lean over the chair."

"Is that what Caitlin got?" Natalie demanded. "This is all her fault."

"No, Caitlin didn't get the strap," Rob told her. "And this is not Caitlin's
fault. Caitlin did not force you to buy alcohol for her. You knew exactly
what you were doing. You put your sister and her friends in a dangerous
position."

The sight of that strap was getting Natalie edgy. "Dad, they were going there
to drink anyway. If I hadn't bought it for them, someone else would have," she
pleaded desperately. Her bottom was shaking.

Rob practically growled at her. "That's all you can say, young lady? After
all this, all you can say is that it's not your fault? Well, I am going to
teach you a thing or two about responsibility. You think you are so cool and
tough, don't you, with your cool ID and buying alcohol for your sister? Well
let me remind you that your ID is sitting in shredded pieces in the kitchen and
your sister is in her bedroom with her ass smarting. We'll see what a big shot
you feel like when I get through with you. Now get over that chair!" 

When Natalie hesitated out of pure fear, not defiance, Rob grabbed her arm and
threw her over the chair, raining spank after spank down with the strap.

Natalie was screaming from the fifth stroke on. "Daddy, stt -tt-opppppp! Oh
God, please, stop! I'm sorry, I'm sorr- AHHHH! OWWWW!" she wailed. "Daddy,
noooooooo!"

Rob brought down each smack harder than the last. "Don't you MOVE!" he
threatened, when Natalie began kicking her legs furiously. "You get up and you
will be sorry!"

He slapped at her bottom, her thighs, the tops of her legs, sometimes laying
crack after crack on the exact same spot. Natalie's wails were brutal. "I'm
sorrr-rrrr-" she tried to choke out, her bottom absolutely flaming. Never in
her life had she felt a pain so intense. She could not possibly take another
second of this horrible punishment.

But Rob was nowhere near finished. His arms were strong from daily lifting
sessions at the gym. He swung that piece of leather down over and over,
ignoring Natalie's sobs and pleas.
"Never again, Daddddy - OHOH - Ahhhhhh - Wah, wah!" Natalie moaned. "St-top,
puh-lllllleeeasse!"

Natalie was hysterical by the time Rob was through with her. "Get up," he
ordered, holding the strap at his side.

Natalie could not control her sobs. "AH AH AH," she screamed, tears streaming
down her face. Her bottom was burning. Rob took her roughly by the arm and
stood her up, looking her over. He had done a number on her backside. Natalie
wouldn't be sitting comfortably for quite a while. Rob felt a twinge of
satisfaction. While he was not pleased with having to discipline his daughter,
he knew Natalie would not forget this lesson any time soon. 

"Owwwwww," Natalie sobbed, pushing her tangled hair out of her face. "It
huuuuuurrttts." She hopped around, trying to ease the terrible sting away.
Her lips formed a perfect pout. She was not very happy about her present
situation.

Rob shook his head at her. "Tough," he told her harshly, not showing any
sympathy. "That was an idiotic thing you did. You know better than that."

Another wave of pain exploded across Natalie's bottom and she burst into fresh
tears.

"Consider yourself grounded," Rob said. "And you better be on your best
behavior, young lady. So help you if you pull anything like this again."

Natalie glared hatefully at her father, but managed a small nod. Tears
continued to spill down her cheeks.

Rob stormed out of her room, still furious over the night's events. He did not
appreciate having to pick up one daughter from the police station, a phone call
from an angry, hysterical mother regarding the actions of another daughter, or
puke in his Lexus. He was more upset about those factors than he was about the
fact that Caitlin had been drinking or that Natalie had been using an illegal
ID. 

He walked down the hall to his bedroom, the strap still warm in his hand. He
could hear Natalie's loud, uncontrollable sobs. Rob ran his fingers threw his
hair. Honest to God, his daughters were driving him crazy. He did not have
the time or the patience to deal with their antics. He was determined to teach
them that they better behave or they would pay the consequences. His daughters
were not going to be insubordinate.

Rob threw the strap back in his closet. He was pretty worked up. Without even
thinking, he put on his running sneakers and ran down the front stairs. He
didn't care that it was the middle of the night, he needed to go for a run. 

He jogged down the driveway, unaware of the night's chilly air. As his
sneakers hit the ground over and over, Rob was reminded of memories from years
ago. He used to go running after having a brutal argument with his ex-wife,
regardless of the time. It had been a perfectly miserable marriage. They
sometimes fought until the early hours of the morning, many times waking up
their children. Michelle had been vicious. She was spiteful and knew all the
right buttons to push during an argument. Rob usually became infuriated and
went storming out of the house for a hard run. 

* * *

Lindsay heard the front door slam. The screams from upstairs had finally
stopped. Even with the TV blaring, Lindsay had not been able to tune out the
sounds of the two spankings. It had been horrible to listen to all the
screaming and protesting. Lindsay knew her sisters were not being dramatic.
Her father was strong and his spankings were meant to teach lessons. They
hurt. Lindsay shuddered. While she was not punished very often at all, she
had certainly felt her father's hand and belt on her bottom. 

She went upstairs and knocked quietly on her bedroom door. She could hear soft
crying coming from inside. "Cait?" she called. "Can I come in?"

"Uh-huh," her sister finally choked out, barely above a whisper.

Lindsay went inside. Caitlin was sprawled out on her bed, her face streaked
with tears. She was on her stomach, furiously rubbing her flaming behind. Her
panties and jeans were still in a heap on the floor.

"Oh, Caitlin," Lindsay cried, seeing how red her sister's bottom was. "Ouch."

Caitlin glared at her. "Shut up, Lindsay."

Lindsay looked hurt. "Not fair," she said. "I came to see if you were okay."

Caitlin tried to roll over, then yelped in pain. "I'm just terrific," she
snapped. "I love being treated like I'm about five." She winced. "We're too
frickin old for this."

Lindsay sighed. "Yeah, well, try telling Dad that."

"Natalie is going to fucking kill me," Caitlin moaned. "I heard the spanking
he gave her. It lasted forever. She's not going to be able to sit. I am so
dead." Fresh tears filled her pretty blue eyes. "This wasn't even my fault."

Lindsay raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. "Come on," she said soothingly.
"Let's get you to bed." She went to her sister's dresser and took out a fresh
pair of underwear. "Here," she said, tossing them to her sister.

Caitlin's face scrunched in pain as she pulled up the cotton panties. "Ouch!"
she cried. "Shit!"

Lindsay helped her twin settle into bed. Caitlin stretched flat on her tummy,
one hand still rubbing her behind. 

Lindsay waited until Caitlin finally cried herself to sleep, then knocked on
Natalie's door. Rob was still out running in the dark morning.

"What?" Natalie snapped through her tears, wondering if it was Caitlin or her
father.

"It's Linds. Can I come in?"

There was no reply, so Lindsay slowly opened the door. Natalie was in much
worse shape than Caitlin. She was kneeling on the floor, cradling her backside
and sobbing. Her bottom was bright red, covered with welts, and looked
extremely painful. Her brown hair was a tangled mess, black mascara had run
all over her cheeks, and her little T-shirt was wrinkled and bunched up above
her waist.

"Go away," she cried, not looking up.

"Natalie," Lindsay said softly. She put her arms around her sister. "It's
okay, it's okay."

Natalie burst into fresh sobs. "He was so mean," she cried. "He is so mad at
me. I've never seen him so mad. And it hurts," she sobbed. "It hurts, it
hurts."

Lindsay gently gathered Natalie's hair away from her face. "I know," she said
soothingly. "I'm sorry. It's going to be okay."

Natalie's mouth hardened. "I am going to kill your other half," she warned,
her voice shaking with anger. "She is so dead. I did this as a favor to her.
A favor. She fucking begged me. And then she gets me whipped and grounded.
She is fucking toast. And I got it worse than she did!"

Lindsay figured as much.

"He used his fucking strap, Lindsay. You know the strap he always threatens to
use, but doesn't? Well he used it this time. Caitlin didn't even get it. But
I did? That's fucked up." Natalie was having a hard time containing her fury.
"I'm going to get her for this," Natalie swore. "Mark my words, she is going
to get a taste of that strap. She better watch her fucking back because she's
going to pay for this one." 

Freak Paradise

In the quest for perfection, how freaky can one get? 

I’d been trying to find that answer for most of the last 10 years. 

I was eleven when I got my first period—and three weeks later I had my first orgasm. A friend had a sister who was a couple of years older than us, and one night during a sleep over she explained the finer points of fingering one’s self. Explained, hell. She demonstrated for us. My friend was getting freaked out—here was her sister, only thirteen, and she was playing with her pussy—but I couldn’t stop watching. It just amazed me that you could do those things to yourself. A week later I stopped by and asked her if she could do that to me. She did that and other things, too—and it wasn’t long before I found out what was meant by “mistress” and “slave”. It was nice having a thirteen year old girl doing shit for you. 

By the time I was fourteen I had Sandy—my now ex-girlfriend’s sister—as my lover/slave, willing to do just about anything for me—and do she did. I was also getting into a lot of sex; I’d been doing the lesbian thing for a while, and right before my fourteenth birthday I’d found what sex with a boy was like. At least oral sex. I’d told a guy I knew if he ate my pussy real good I’d blow him, and to my surprise he made me see stars. All I really had to do was put my mouth over his dick and he shot his load, so it was no big deal. I found that cum wasn’t all that bad, and I blew him a few more times before I thought about what it might be like blowing a bunch of guys. 

I had him bring over his friends one night, and while Sandy fingered me I sucked him and his seven buddies off. I made most of them cum at least three times, although there was one guy who was a monster: I blew him five times before he complained of his balls getting sore. The next week they came back, and I let them gang fuck Sandy, who wanted to lose her virginity for me. She looked like she was getting into it, so I figured it was a good time for me to loose mine as well and I was gang fucked, too. I didn’t make them use rubbers—I had just had my period—but I did make Sandy eat the cum out after they’d left. 

Sandy got out of high school before me and waited until I was ready to graduate. She got an apartment and we lived together. It wasn’t hard; my father was long since gone, and my mother was too drunk most of the time to realize I wasn’t home any more. To say we were both a couple of sluts was an understatement: a couple of whores was more like it. Guys would come and see us for sex and drugs, and in exchange for money we’d give them both. By this time I was a total nympho; I couldn’t cum enough to stay happy. I’d taken to blowing one guy while getting it in the pussy by another, and one night I let the back door get busted and went for triple penetration. Once I had all three guys cum at the same time, and I thought I was going to lose my mind. 

It was around this time that I started to crave the strange. I’d start doing a lot of role play with Sandy. I’d dress her up in a really short dress and then head out to the mall, her sans panties. I’d then make her play slave in public; carrying my things, dressing me when we tried on clothes, getting my food. I made her bend over once to wipe off my shoes, knowing the guys behind us would get a good look at her shaved pussy. Before we were out of the mall they stopped us and asked if we wanted to “party”. I said we had to use the washroom, but then we could see about getting together. We made out in a toilet stall, Sandy playing with my pussy as we kissed. For $500 we let them fuck us in the ass most of the night. 

I pierced Sandy’s nipples, and she in returned pierced my clit and labia. I made her get a stud in her tongue so our sex would be more enjoyable for me. I branded her ass with my initials WM—for Wendy Mandoski—and she requested that I have her name tattooed on my shaved pubic mound. A few days later she saw “Sandy’s Cunt” in cursive script above my clitoris, and she spent the next hour kissing the area before fucking me . . . . 

It was my idea for Sandy to get her breasts enlarged. By this time I was twenty one and Sandy twenty three. She had blown off college—well, we both had—and she was stripping at a lesbian bar not to far from our place. She had C cups, but for some reason one night I had this image of her with incredibly huge breasts—the sort that guys drool over. And that I was getting wet over just imagining the sight. And I’m not talking like HH cups or something like that. I had this image of Sandy with breast that covered her torso, so big it looked like she was hiding behind a couple of bean bags. With long, hard fucking nipples. That night I whipped her, whipping myself into a frenzy at the same time, and told her of my vision. To my surprise she had fantasies along the same line, and the next week we started seeing doctors who could do the surgery. 

To get your breasts that big takes time and money. Most of the doctors told us it could be done with saline implants, although they advised against it. The word “freakish” would be used more times than I could count, and one doctor explained that Sandy would be turned into a cripple with breasts that big, since even if the skin could stretch that far the saline would weigh so much that she’s spend the rest of her life either on her back or in a wheelchair, unable to stay on her feet for most than a few minutes at a time. She was upset—as was I—and I offered to be the doctor’s mistress for the next year if he’d go ahead with the surgery. He threw us out of his office. 

Eventually she did get the implants, but only up to EE cups. Every doctor we met told us we were crazy to talk about something as impossible as implants which would make a woman’s breast at least three foot across. After Sandy had adjusted to her new breasts I had implants put in as well—G cup for me; I was huge—and I went to work at the same bar as Sandy. We were both very popular, and while we made a fair amount in tips, it was the “after hours” work that we took in which made us the most happy—and wealthy. I’d never realized just how many women were out there who were willing to pay handsomely for a couple of lovely, busty females to do—well, just about anything. It didn’t matter to me. I was willing to do anything, and Sandy would do whatever I ordered her to do. 

Most of our customers loved us because of our breasts. We had one woman who couldn’t get enough of our tits in her mouth. She particularly loved me because I was a G cup, but stood only 5’ 3”, which meant I looked even bigger than I was. (If that was possible!) She’d have me wear a huge strap on—at least 18 inches—and would ride me from on top, fucking me as hard as she could. Linda—that was her name—was bi; she loved dick as much as pussy, and if she could get both, the happier she was. 

It was she who got my mind working towards even stranger things. “Have you ever wanted to have a dick?” she asked me one night. 

I thought for a moment. “I’d probably want to try it once, just to see what it’s like.” 

Linda paused, as if she didn’t know if she wanted to go on. “I’ve always wanted to be a hermaphrodite,” she said, smiling. “I don’t know why, but the idea of having a pussy and a huge cock and balls has always—intrigued me. Do you know what I mean?” 

I told her I did. “What would you do?” I asked. 

“I’d love to fuck other women. Drill them with my big cock and cum inside them. Just fuck them raw, you know?” She started playing with my breasts. “Have a cock bigger than my strap on; maybe two feet long, and six inches across. A real horse’s dick. Something that would shock the shit out of people when they saw it. 

“And then . . . I’d have a pussy underneath my cock, and I’d lift it back and have people fuck me in my pussy. I could jerk off the whole time while I’m being fucked. Maybe we’d both cum at the same time. Or I could blow myself while being fucked . . .” She sighed. “It’s just a dream, but one . . . damn, I wish I could be that way.” 

I thought about Linda’s dream. I couldn’t tell her that it was also one of my dreams as well. Well, almost. I’d had drawn a picture some months before. It showed Sandy with gigantic breasts, lying on her back. She possessed a huge cock, three feet long if an inch, thick with veins and dripping with sweat. She was using one hand to stroke her cock while she used the other to push a large vibrator into the dripping pussy below her cock. 

And I? I was sucking the head of her dick. My body was covered with breasts as well, but not two huge ones as Sandy had. I had six; three sets of G cup sized tits draped down my torso. What’s more, I also had eight arms so that I might fondle such an arrangement without difficulty. While I sucked Sandy’s dick I used one hand to help her stroke it, another to rub her throbbing balls. One hand was pushing a vibrator into my pussy, while another was shoving a vibrator into Sandy’s ass. I fingered my clit while the rest of my hands pulled at my breasts and Sandy’s. 

I remember sitting there staring at the picture after I’d drawn it, masturbating for hours thinking about what such a—“thing” would feel like. For a moment the thought entered my mind that any two people such as this would be freaks—but I didn’t give a shit. As I got older my thoughts turned to stranger things I could do with my body. Or to my body. Sandy didn’t know it, but I’d seen a doctor—a woman doctor, hoping she’d understand—about grafting another breast onto my body, right between the two I was born with. She was aghast: she couldn’t believe people could think that way. She told me that to even contemplate such a thing was sick, that I would be mutilating my body if such surgery were possible . . . 
I didn’t see it that way. I was bored, sexually. I was running out of things to do, and combination to do them in. Changing one’s body was the only thing left in order to get thrills which were normally denied us. Which is why I didn’t find Linda’s dream all that strange. Why couldn’t a woman have a dick that worked? Or a man breasts? Why couldn’t we just do to our bodies what we would like, and not have to worry about people thinking we were freaks? Life wasn’t fair by a long shot. 

I told Linda that her vision had aroused me, and that I would like her to fuck me with her “dick”, the strap on she owned. But that I wanted it to be special . . . after she put it on, I attached something else; a couple of oranges placed in nylons, which I taped to the strap on. “Here are your balls,” I told her. “I want to feel them slamming into me.” I then started sucking the head of this phony dick, but pretended that it was the real thing, that she could feel sensation as I did my best to deep throat her. Linda was pinching her nipples hard; she was just as turned on as I was. When I finished I turned around and told her to fuck me in the ass. 

When Linda started to hesitate I turned around and slapped her. While I’d always been dominant with Sandy, I’d never done such a thing with a customer. “Fuck me, you bitch!” I hissed at her. “Or you’ll be drinking my piss before I leave.” Linda’s cheeks flushed, but she did as commanded. 

I bled for a couple of days. It hurt a lot, having that much latex cock inside your ass. But I swore I could feel pulsating as she came . . . 

I saw Linda a few nights later, and decided to play games with her. Linda worked in a brokerage firm. She was pretty conservative looking to say the least, and most of the time when I saw her she wore slacks. She wanted to fit in, and didn’t want her co-workers to know she liked to spend her time knocking back Long Island Iced Teas while watching women strip—or that she paid bisexual female prostitutes to come to her home to have sex with her. 

I told Sandy I’d be home in the morning, and left her so I could spend time with Linda. I slid up next to her and told her it was her lucky night, that I was not going to charge her to stick my tongue so far up her pussy she’d quiver. We were out the door before my butt had time to warm the stool. 

I had something else in mind when we arrived at her place. I snuggled up to her, then ran my hand over her smooth, pants-covered crotch. “Where’s your dick, honey?” I purred. 

She smiled. “Upstairs—“ 

“On the contrary—“ I went over to the gym bag I’d brought along. “Strip.” 

Linda did as ordered. Once she was naked I pull out my surprise. I’d had someone craft for me a fake dick that possessed a set of large testicles made out of hard foam rubber. The dick was a large dildo, fourteen inches in length and thick enough to fill any vagina. Both sets of genitalia were fixed to a thong-like harness which was worn something like a chastity belt. 

I hooked this onto Linda, snapping the locks into place. The testicles rode low, below her pussy, so that access there was as she had hoped; she would need to lift her new penis to get to her vagina, and her testicles would be just below that. 

She walked over to a full-length mirror and stared at herself. I think she was getting off on just looking at what she might be, for her body was wracked by tiny tremors. Finally she said, “God, this is beautiful.” 

“You like?” 

She kissed me. “Of course.” She discovered she could snap the dick into an erect position, allowing her to use it as it was intended. 

“I’m glad you do.” I dropped the bombshell. “’Cause I have no way of take it off.” Now I smiled. “At least without cutting the straps.” 

Linda appeared shocked, but said nothing. I went on. “The inside cups your clitoris, so you’ll be able to pee, but it will now come out your dick. You can still piss sitting down, but the ability to pee like a man has been given to you. It will also stimulate your clit, so you should be able to cum when you are fucking someone. You may even be able to cum if someone is fucking you, although we’d have to test that out—“ 

“Why?” was the first thing she said. 

“Be cause you wanted it.” I turned her towards the mirror. “You wanted to be a hermaphrodite, well, now you’ll have your chance. One of these days we’ll cut this off, but for now you’ll live as you’ve always wanted.” 

“But, I have to work—“ 

“I guess you’ll start wearing a lot more skirts and dresses. Not only to work, but out.” I was almost laughing, but managed to keep it to myself. “You can’t hide a dick like that in woman’s slacks.” 

I thought for a moment that Linda might turn violent, that she might lash out and start hitting him. Instead she turned to me with tears in her eyes. “Thank you,” she muttered. “This is—something I’ve always wanted. My only wish . . .” She fought back tears. “I wish I could cum inside you with what I have.” She sniffed hard then gave me a strange look. “And what of your dream?” she asked. 

“Which one?” 

“You wanted extra breasts.” 

To be honest I hadn’t thought about it. When I was getting this prosthesis for Linda there had never been any thought of getting something made for myself. Before I could say anything Linda began removing my clothes. She wasn’t in the mood to talk about things missing . . . 

It was six week later before I discovered what Linda had in mind. Since the night I’d “changed” her, she’d been coming into the club wearing very short skirts and heels, a slight bulge the only evidence she was carrying something “extra”. She seemed very happy, and why not? In a way I’d given her something she’d always wanted, even if it wasn’t real. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was a little jealous of Linda becoming a “phony hermaphrodite”; she could play all she wanted with her new appendage, while I . . . I had to continue to dream about what I could do to my body. 

I know she’d been having fun. A couple of nights she’d come in and left with Sandy. There was one night when Linda was hitting on another woman. I’d seen Linda put the other woman’s hand on her crotch; soon after the two ladies left together, so there must have been some compatibility. 

What really bothered me was that other than the first night, Linda and I hadn’t had sex. She hadn’t fucked me with her new dick, nor allowed me to do anything to her. I was a little pissed off, but not enough that I would say anything. Actually, pissed off wasn’t what I was really feeling— 

I was more hurt by what I saw as rejection. 

Linda showed up one night decked out in the most revealing outfit I’d ever seen her in. She had on a red latex mini dress, red nylons, and red platform pumps with heels that must have made her six inches taller. I’d never seen her come in here looking so—provocative. 

She walked over to me and snuggled in real close. “I’d like you to come over tonight,” she whispered in a deep, sexy voice. 

I thought about saying it was going to cost her, but I couldn’t. There was something in her eyes . . . it wasn’t quite lust brought about by a need for good sex. It was more like—she wanted me to come because she wanted me. 

I’m a sucker for a pretty face. 

Once in her house we hustled down to her basement. The previous owners of the house fixed it up and made it furnished, but I’ve never been in it before, so I assumed they’d done a shitty job. I was wrong. The lighting was all subdued, subtle. Soft. Most basements are filled with hard florescent lighting, something that hurts your eyes after a while. Not this one. 

It was like a bedroom. 

In the corner was a lot of workout equipment. A portable gym, hand weights, that sort of thing . . . and in the middle of the room was something like a massage table, only it was tilted so that one would lean back at a forty five degree angle. “You getting rub downs now?” I asked. Linda just smiled. In this light I first noticed her arms. She was getting a little definition. I was somewhat surprised. Then I noticed the same in her calves. “You working out, too?” 

When Linda spoke—which she hadn’t done since we left the club—it was in that semi-deep voice she’d used on me earlier in the evening. It sounded almost like she’d had a cold. She moved me towards the table. “I’ve been working out, yes,” she said as she gently pushed me back and got me comfortable. “Since I now am a different—woman, I’ve decided I wanted to change myself.” She moved away from the table and examined me. “I’ve been taking growth hormone along with testosterone. It’s changing my body.” She flexed her biceps. It showed a noticeable bulge, even if it wasn’t that big. “I’m going to pack on a lot of muscle, as well as get breasts implants.” 

She brought out a sleep mask; I assumed she was going to cover my eyes for some reason. “I’ve also talked to a doctor friend. She tells me that penile transplants are becoming more safe, and that it’s possible for them to work good as new after a few month.” The placed the mask over my eyes and fastened it in place. “I’m thinking of having a horse’s cock and balls transplanted onto my body. To take the place of what you’ve given me.” 

“Do you think that would work?” I could see in my mind’s eye this huge dick on Linda, getting fatter and longer when she got excited, her new balls hanging half way to her knees. I could smell the juice flowing from my pussy. 

“I hope so . . . but enough of that.” She moved back. I didn’t try to take the mask off, since I figured she had a surprise for me. At least I hoped so. I didn’t think she’d try to kill me or anything like that. “There’s something I want to do . . .” 

For the next few hours I lay in darkness, not speaking. Even when I did ask Linda a question I rarely received an answer. During this time I could feel something cool and sticky being applied to my lower torso—followed by something heavy. Very heavy. But the feel . . . I couldn’t quite place it. I had some idea what it might be . . . 

“There. All done.” The mask came off. Linda was right in my face. “You can get up now. But take it easy.” 

I sat up slowly, and as I moved my eyes downward (as well as my hand), my thoughts had been confirmed: Linda had given me another set of breasts. 

It was some sort of appliance, but it was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. I could see myself in a mirror just across the room. The extra breasts were affixed beneath my “regular” pair. They were the same size as what I already had—four G cups! Damn! My whole torso was nothing but tits now; the set on the bottom hung all the way to the top of my pubic area. I almost couldn’t see the tattoo there. As small as I was it now looked as if I were nothing but breasts. 

I examined the appliance. It looked real. When I touched them they felt very real. It was a form of latex I’d never seen or felt before. Real professional makeup shit here, folks. Just like in the movies. And the application job . . . I turned looking for where it had been attached. Linda had been busy in the last few weeks, ‘cause I couldn’t really detect where the appliance ended and my real skin began. It was almost as if I’d been born with these things. 

And they had to be expensive. When I moved I could feel their weight. When I hefted them I could feel the weight. I was just guessing, but they had to weigh as much as my real breasts. Then even felt the same—no, better. With my implants you could feel something under the skin if you squeezed too hard. With these—it was just like kneading flesh. If only I could feel something when I played with the fake nipples . . . 

I turned to face Linda, but moved a little too fast. It was just like when I’d first gotten my implants; if you move too quickly, you’ll find your breasts don’t want to stop moving. And with this extra weigh on my lower abdomen—if I thought I had some back pain with my real breasts, I was going to soon discover that I could only stay on my feet for an hour or so at a time without needing my back rubbed. 

“Where did you get these?” I was flabbergasted to say the least. 

“An old friend of mine works with Rick Baker,” she said. The smile on Linda’s face was brighter than any light in the room. “He built those for me for—well, lets say ‘services rendered’. It wasn’t anything too embarrassing . . .” 

“But they’re so—“ 

“Real?” 

“Yeah!” 

“Good.” She took me in her arms and kissed me. “The glue I used on you is special.” 

“Meaning?” I knew where this was leading. 

“Meaning it’s designed to be very—lasting. Has to be. Otherwise those babies would fall off after a few hours.” She started rubbing her cock against my clitoris. “Those can probably stay that way for a month before you need a touch up.” 

“So what you’re saying is . . . they won’t come off.” 

Linda nodded. “Not unless you pull on them very, very hard.” 

Turn about is fair play, no doubt. I went on my knees, forgetting for a moment that these new breasts might get in the way. Might? I could feel them pressing hard against my thighs and the undersides of my real breasts. They would get in the way, that was a guaranty. And what would I do for clothes? Fuck it. There was no need to think about that now . . . 

I was pretending to suck her cock while I fingered her. Of course Linda couldn’t feel anything in the dick, but that didn’t stop her from touching the back of my head and directing my mouth towards her . . . she wanted me to suck her off, and I did. She bucked her hips while I ran my hands across her developing thighs, wondering just how muscular she might get . . . 

I wanted her to cum in the worst way. 

But I didn’t taste her in my mouth. 

I waited two days before heading into work. Linda had been correct; these breasts were glued on like a mother, and it would be some time before they came off. I couldn’t find a bra that would fit them, but then they weren’t about to start sagging so I didn’t worry about it. 

Finding something to wear, though . . . shit. I was able to get a skirt on without a problem, but locating a top was another story. No dress I had would fit; the same with most of my tops. I finally settled on a baggy sweat top which did little to hide what I was packing below. 

Getting to work was also a lot of fun. I never thought about what it would be like to have another set of breasts for real, least not a pair the size of the watermelons I had now. Driving was complicated; it was hard to get in and out without moving the seat back, and they seemed to get in the way when you tried to steer—although I suppose that last wasn’t as bad as I thought it might be. When I first got my implants I had to learn to drive either with my arms out far to the side, or under my breasts. Now, with my arms under I found I could rest them on top of the lower pair. They tended to get trapped between the two sets, but what the hell. 

I thought I might run into a bit of trouble when I got to work. I didn’t anticipate what would happen. 

“What the fuck is with you?” Ellen asked me. She’s the manager, and a total bitch if you ask me. While she’s not that bad if you’re dealing with something non-work related, anything that happens in the club is her business—and it’s usually not good business. 

“I had a breasts addition,” I said. I held up my top to show her what had happened. 

She took a moment to examine by new additions, and then it came: “You enjoy being a fuckin’ freak?” 

“I am not a fuckin’ freak,” I replied. I didn’t want to sound too testy, but I think I came off sounding sarcastic. 

“Any women with more than the tits she was born with is a freak.” 

“You want to use that logic, Ellen,” I said, my voice starting to rise, “then every women up on that stage is a freak, since most of them don’t have the tits they were born with!” 

She looked me square in the eyes, her voice taking on a knife edge of coldness. “The clientele want to see girls with big breasts. They don’t want to see freaks who like having latex attached to their bodies.” 

I told Ellen to stick her head up her ass and enjoy the view, then stormed out. Fuckin’ freak, my ass! There was no way . . . but maybe she was right. I didn’t know. After all, people look at you funny when you have huge breasts like I had. 

Would they turn away if they saw you with four breasts like that? 

I had to find out. 

There were a number of clubs in the area, and even though it wasn’t quite night yet, a lot of people looking for action were starting to fill up the sidewalks. I wandered down the street to see what people would think. It wasn’t dark—early twilight, really—so there wouldn’t be any possibility that people might think they were seeing something besides what they thought they’d just seen . . . 

There were guys and women who looked at me in disgust. But then I got that when I had just my augmented breasts. There were guys who did a double take and then had to cover up the boner they got. There were some who just looked with a “What the fuck?” appearance. 

But for the most part I was getting that vibe that said, “Man, what a freak.” 

And did I care? 

I was starting to. I thought, am I a freak, just because I want something different? When you think about it, most people want the norm and little else. They’re afraid of change, of things that are different. That’s why hippies and disco animals and punk rockers and skinheads have scared the hell out of people over the decades—they’re different, and people (not individuals, as Tommy Lee Jones put it, but people) don’t want different. 

I was a person. I wanted different. 

But I had to admit I was getting bummed out. Having the appearance of four breasts—that didn’t set well with people. Hell, I should have known, because when I first got my implants people stared at me like I was freaky. I had tits like basketballs—it’s not normal, sure. But that didn’t make me like a person from another planet, did it? 

I was about to head back to the car when a couple of young women, probably twenty, twenty one, stopped me. “Excuse us—“ 

“Yes?” 

The girl was blond, sun blond, and cute. While she might be just about legal drinking age, the more I examined her friend, the more I realized she was probably closer to thirty. But still beautiful. “This might seem like a strange question, but—do you have four breasts?” 

I thought of saying something nasty, but backed off and went for the truth. “The lower set are artificial, but yes, I have four breasts.” 

The two women stood there blinking their eyes at each other like they couldn’t believe what they’d just heard. I was about to turn and head off when the older woman said, “I think you look lovely. You, uh, wouldn’t happen to be into girls, would you?” 

Several hours later, after my threesome with Tamara and Petula (!) was over, I realized two things: one, there were more than just a few of us with “polymastic fetishes”, as they called it— 

And two, there was nothing wrong with being different. 

So fuck it. 

From that point on change was imperative. 

I kept my phony breasts, and Linda kept taking hormones to pump up into Superwoman. She got her implants—DD cups—before the testosterone and GH burned off all the fat in her system. Sandy and I moved in with Linda, as we both were out of work—Sandy was fired by Ellen almost the moment she walked through the door on the day I told her to fuck herself—and she was picking up jobs here and there. It would seem the word had gotten out that her girlfriend was a little freaky, and some of it might have rubbed off . . . 

I considered kneecapping Ellen, but figured it wasn’t worth the effort. 

After six months Sandy found some steady work in a “normal” strip bar, but Linda was having problems. Seemed her place of business didn’t want the She Hulk around, and were giving her shit on the job. The word she was hearing was that most of the guys were feeling “intimidated” by her, and so were a lot of the women. The end came when one woman, some bubble headed blond who worked the front desk, ask her why “she wanted to look like a guy.” Linda whipped out her fake schlong and asked, “Would you like to be fucked by this, baby?” The company said they wouldn’t press charges if she’d just leave quietly. It was a few months before Linda was able to find employment elsewhere. 

As for me . . . I spent a lot of time masturbating. And whoring. Well, I shouldn’t really put it that way. It seems so—crude. “Sleeping around” doesn’t seem much better. How’s about “enjoying the company of other women willing to pay cash for kicks.” There, that does the trick. 

First, the masturbating. I was doing that most of the time when I wasn’t having sex with Linda or Sandy. Just having those extra breasts, thinking about them—feeling them. It made me very horny. I’d lay in bed and bring myself to orgasm, wishing has hard as I could that I’d feel something in those fake nipples which Linda had given me. I never did feel anything, but there were times when I thought I could . . . 

Plus laying on my back relieved the pressure these breasts put there. The G cups I’d paid for could be a strain at times—but having a second set pulling your lumbar region out of shape as well? Shit. I could stay on my feet for about two, three hours max before I’d feel pain. And then I’d have to sit or lie down. And what else is there to do when you are laying down but play with yourself? 

I’d had some dresses made to accommodate my new look. Most were short and did little to hide my new “protuberances.” One outfit I particularly loved was a metallic-looking blue mini dress cut so it showed a lot of cleavage from both pair of breasts. I’d put on a pair of knee high boots—I knew heels weren’t good for my back, but I was beginning to love encasing my legs in leather—and go out walking. I had nothing to hide—and neither did the people I encountered. 

About ninety eight percent of them gazed at me with unbidden disgust or stark curiosity. A few would mutter “freak” as I’d walk past. Some would even scream at me: “What the fuck is wrong with you?” “What sort of freaky bitch are you?” 

It was the other two percent who made it worth while. I had one guy tell me I was beautiful. Another woman confessed her feelings for wanting to look like me. A third person asked me if I had ever considered modeling. Another wanted to know if I’d ever wondered what I might look like with six breasts the size of the ones I now had? 

And then there was the guy . . . “I’ll give you $300 if you’ll let me cum on your breasts.” When I told him to buzz off, he stopped and begged me. Pleaded with me. Then said, “I’ll give you a $1000. But you have to let me tit fuck you.” He explained that he had always had this fantasy of having sex with a woman with more than one set of breasts, and the bigger the better. For a grand I wasn’t about to spoil this poor bastard’s fantasy . . . 

I also spent a lot of time with Tamara and Petula. Like Sandy and me, they’d been together for a long time. Petula had been the older sister of Tamara’s best friend, and they had just been attracted to each other from the get go. Both had “normal” jobs, and didn’t let on to most people they were lesbians. There we a lot of fun to be around, mostly ‘cause they were just as much into fantasy as I was. 

Petula showed me a photo she’d done of Tamara, a morph job showing her with twelve breasts and four arms. The longer I looked at it, the less I saw Tamara and the more I saw myself in the photo. And realized for the first time that I wanted more of my body. “I wish it were me,” I said. 

“You’d like to have a morph done?” Petula asked. 

“No. I want that done to me. In fact—“ I drew in a sharp breath. I was getting excited. “I want multiple—everything. Arms, legs, breasts, pussies, asses, mouths, heads . . . you name it, I’d like more than one of it.” 

Petula smiled. I’d never told her this before; fact is, until I saw the photo I’d never thought of it before. Maybe once. Right after I was asked if I could see myself with six breasts I gave it some thought. A lot of thought . . . 

“I could see you with eight breasts like the ones you have,” she told me. “And ten arms—“