Abby - Ragged Pages Part 3 TG
The Ragged Pages of the First Book (cont.)
Young Abby spread her hands across the bed to better illustrate her story. She felt herself carried along by her ideas, no matter how silly they sounded as she thought them. Heeding her father's words, she just rushed headlong into her tale and scene after scene with all gusto.
Dangers mounted against her characters. But they were resourceful. Stunning reveals, at least so far as Abby's young mind imagined them, played out. For his part, Demetrius gave an earnest impression of surprise at every twist and turn.
Abby's face, full of the energy of her story, very nearly seemed to glow.
Abby lingered a moment with concern for Alexis but Abigail tugged her away as the buzzing started to swell again. Whispering a quiet hope for Alexis, Abby ran the other direction with Abigail dragging her along.
Amidst the buzzing rose countless puffs of steam like snorting, angry bulls ready to charge. Abigail led Abby in a crisscross pattern thro
Abby - Ragged Pages Part 2 TG
The Ragged Pages of the First Book (cont.)
The pause in Demetrius's reading alarmed young Abby. She scooted up in the bed and breathlessly asked, "What happens next?"
With a calm smile, Demetrius bent forward and asked, "What do you think happens next?"
Abby curled her lips in. She didn't expect her dad to ask her. That wasn't how stories went. They were told and listened to. She wanted to protest but she had a feeling her dad had a good reason to ask.
Focusing with what she could summon from her mind, Abby mulled, "Well with all that has happened so far "
Demetrius interrupted, "Don't worry about that. Tell the story your way. What happens next?"
Abby's mind boggled but she also felt a strange sort of thrill at the idea. With a rising smile on her lips, Abby said, "Well here is how it would go "
It wasn't the first time someone had seen Abby as an "only hope". The phrase always worried her. But, of course, she was always willing to help, no matter h
Girly Farts TGGirly Farts
For once, Terica's garage wasn't on fire when I came over to visit. Pink smoke was belching through a crack in one of the windows though. I knocked on the metal door and waited.
After some mild cursing and coughing from within, the door slid up. Terica had on her regular lab coat with the words above the pocket protector, "Doctor Terica Snorf Mad Scientist". Her long, frizzy brunette hair gave off a puff of smoke just behind her ear. She patted it out with her blue-gloved hands and mentioned, "Some things are a bit more flammable than they say..."
I nodded and said, "I've noticed. Need anything? Where are your goggles?" Terica always wore her goggles in her laboratory garage and sometimes even out and about. I noticed a small bruise on her forehead.
She answered, "They melted. I could've used a little more dihydrogen monoxide earlier. But it's under control now."
A bright "FOOM"ing wall of fire erupted from behind Terica. I backed away but she assured me, "It'
The Crystal Tower TGThe Crystal Tower
I had long sought the greatest honor in the land of Garsurka. To quest for the Crystal Tower which twinkles far in the west like a land-bound star and return with the glories which surely dwelt within it.
Many men set out for the spire. None had returned.
But, I, Sir Ardwel Carrewen, intended to be the first.
Some told tales of strong women who had been more fortunate in their journeys to the tower. Whether this meant that special, mystical protection existed for female adventures, no one could tell. These women kept what they had encountered a closely-guarded secret. But their sword skills upon returning were unmatched even by the greatest of men.
I had acquired much glory on the field of battle in defense of my kingdom against rogue armies from the east. The House of Carrewen held many lands. But the light of the Crystal Tower always lingered on our horizon, like a jewel forever out of reach.
I had long made known my intent to my fellow noblemen. I long liste
or, enter your birth date.*
I woke up alone. No white apparition on top of me, no lips gently pressed against mine. I thought for a moment that I was utterly alone. Sitting up in bed, I smiled and stretched my arms out. I started to stand up from the bed - and stopped, as hands wrapped around my waist. Two pale arms interlocking with each other, frail little hands gripping a hold of each limb. I felt her weight like she was made of paper mache, and lifted her from the bed as I walked toward the bathroom. I felt her large breasts against my back, her wet sex above my bottom, and her legs wrapping themselves lightly around my waist.
I walked toward the bathroom, carrying her, unable to keep my legs from moving. I even started to hum a happy little tune on my way, at which point the pale lady dropped off of me. Right before I could see the mirror. I wanted to strain my eyes, or turn my head to try and catch sight of her in a reflection, but again my body would have none of it. I could only stare at myself in the mirror, as my hands lifted to touch the breasts she’d been playing with the night before. They were… huge. They’d gotten easily twice as large, the areola going from the size dimes to quarters that one might seal their lips on and kiss fiercely.
No. No. I had to keep the woman from putting thoughts like that in my head. I had to fight whatever it was that was controlling me - starting by... By combing my hair, apparently. Running my fingers through them, then a brush, adding in a little gel to keep the bounce in my hair, letting it cascade down in chocolate waves of brown. I brushed my teeth, and made use of the bathroom. Then stood up, and went to my closet.
I reached for my normal gray jacket, but my fingers brushed it aside. “Funeral jackets have no place at work,” I whispered. What was I even saying? I loved my drab outfits. The way they made me blend into the crowd, just one of the many. There was nothing special about me, nothing that would benefit from being noticed. Yet my finger brushed aside every gray blouse, and every pair of pants. I came instead to an outfit that made me pale, something that I’d only bought, only worn, for a bachlorette party, when my friend insisted I wear it.
A tight black skirt that descended only halfway to my knees. A bright blue shirt, not even a blouse but an actual shirt, with a built-in shelf of cloth that cupped my still-small breasts. Even through double layers, though, my nipples still poked out in obvious excitement.
I stepped into the skirt, and my thoughts turned instantly to my underwear drawer. My head never turned toward it, though, as I squirmed into the skirt, knowing it was tight enough to cut into my belly and leave a muffin top. It squeezed my narrow hips, too, and yet without underwear I still felt totally exposed.
My hips swiveled out of my control. My legs moved toward the dresser drawers, and for a moment I experienced pure hope as I reached toward one of the top drawers. It was only to grab a hold of two black stockings, though, buried beneath my more sensible underwear and winter leggings. I perched my flat ass on the bed and began to roll each of the black socks carefully up my legs. and up my thighs, stopping just short of the skirt’s edge. Just a hint of my tanned skin would show, now. It was actually a slightly darker shade than it had been yesterday, as if I’d spent an extra day in the sun.
I wondered what else about me would change. The skin was nothing much, but the nipples were literally a huge difference. Would my ass get rounder? Would my breasts get bigger? Maybe my legs would get a little longer, or my thin thighs a little thicker. The thought sent a warmness to my chest, a fuzzy feeling of anticipation that clearly didn’t belong. It should have been terrifying that this woman was making changes to my body, altering me for some unknown purpose, yet I could only feel a warmth and happiness that spread from between my two new nipples.
I found myself moving again, getting off the bed and stepping into my heeled shoes from the night before. They’d only had half an inch of height on them, but they made me feel a little less tiny. Most days. Today they made me wonder if I’d still need them tomorrow, or if I’d be growing that extra half inch.
I had to push those thoughts away as I found myself moving again, walking past the naked white not-quite human woman. Her eyes were on me, and there was a smile on her face. Her finger was pressed into her sex, but she pulled it out as I walked past her, and slid in step behind me. Her wet hand gently caressed my breast, her thumb playing against my erect nipple. Her other hand went to my thighs, and she rubbed until a slow wet spot formed beneath my skirt. I didn’t care how horny she made me, or how desperate I was to believe that thought was planted, because I was moving toward the door. I was moving toward the door with this woman behind me. I dug out my keys from last night’s pants, and grabbed a purse from a hook by the door, and I opened that door and I stepped outside. With the woman behind me. Everyone was going to see her, everyone was going to know something was wrong.
I walked outside with a smile that was maybe actually mine. I turned my head both ways to look around, but no one was out. Only Darla was looking through her blinds, staring at me with narrowed eyes. I smiled at her and waved. I wanted to mouth “Help,” but my lips wouldn’t move. I tried to turn toward the door, but my legs instead moved toward the car. I got in, and I pulled my keys out of the purse I’d put them in and started the ignition. I didn’t hear the other door open, or close, but I knew the other woman was sitting in the seat beside me. Her hand was on my lap, and there was a soft sound I was slowly growing familiar with: her pumping a finger inside herself. Letting out a low moan as she began to squeeze and rub my thigh. I wanted to get out of there, to drive, and to my surprise my body actually responded. I hit the gas and began to move.
I wanted to drive to the police station, but my body locked into its movements again. Perhaps it wasn’t that I had control, but that my desires had momentarily aligned with this… thing’s. We both wanted me to drive, but I didn’t know where it wanted me to drive to. I started driving forward, moving onto the streets and then the highway. Trapped behind a slow moving car, I found myself instinctively driving around it, then hesitating again at the feeling of control. Uncertainly, I sped up until I reached another car, and then slowed down a little. Both options were my choice. Which meant that maybe I could move my own body, so long as I wasn’t directly going against what this creature wanted.
As if to reward my discovery, I felt the naked woman lift the hem of my skirts, and lean toward me. Her naked shoulder was on mine, and then she twisted faintly to press her bare breast against my clothed arm. I continued to drive, cheeks blushing a deep red. I felt my arms lock in place as she began to run her finger slowly across the lips of my pussy, her control taking over again as she flicked against my clit, and my vision turned white - but my foot stayed steady on the gas, breaking in time for the light, and turning properly under her control.
My erect nipples looked like they were going to break out of my shirt, especially when she lowered her mouth to start kissing them through the cloth, leaving a wet round stain about both of my breasts. Everyone at work was going to - Oh. I realized with a start that I knew where we were driving: work. I worked alone in a cubicle, doing data management, but I knew there were still people in cubicles all around mine. People who would notice a naked woman. And friends! Or at least acquaintances, who would care. Someone had to care about the situation I was in.
I drove more eagerly, during the brief moments of actual consciousness I had. The woman was pulling up my skirt and shoving down my shirt to reach the little red cherries that made up my nipples, which were now half my breasts. Her lips were a startling black, but they left no mark but the light wetness of her tongue on my bare skin - and I wondered how no one had pulled me over yet, when I finally came, body still rigidly moving the car as electricity slammed through my mind. I thought it was a miracle the police didn’t pull me over, but I was already pulling into the company parking lot. The white woman tugged at my shirt, and brushed down my skirt, wiping her hand over my clothes until the wetness seemed to disappear. She smiled at me as I stepped out of the car, and I turned away from her long enough to shut the door.
Again, with no apparent moving of the passenger door, I found her behind me. Her fingers rested lightly on my stomach, and her breasts pressed into my spine, in a familiar position. Her feet stepped right behind mine, and I walked - of my own volition, this time - toward the employee entrance of the company building. I saw Jessica, a redhead I worked with, and lifted a hand in eagerness. I was allowed to raise my hand and gesture to her. I was not allowed to point to the lady behind me. When I tried to say help, my voice froze, and instead - out came “Hey, Jessica. How’s it going?”
The woman blinked at me, green eyes a little fuzzy. Then they seemed to clear, and she smiled. “Eh. Fine… You have a nice night?”
“Yeah,” was all I could say. I wasn’t able to add anything about the strange woman, though, who squeezed my waist with a small grin. “I had a nice shower; I played with myself.” I froze internally at those words, shocked at the openness. Me and Jessica were close, she was arguably one of my better friends, but there was a limit to what could be shared. “I’m actually thinking of taking a few days off and getting some work done on my body.” No. No. No, no, no. I was not getting surgery - unless surgery was just an excuse for the changes this woman was working on me. How had Jessica not even asked about her, yet? “And I got a girlfriend.”
“Y-yeah?” Jessica forced a smile. “Tell me about that. The last one, I mean. Not the… the rest.” She squirmed a little, and I thought I saw the faint imprint of nipples through her own shirt. As well as a definite urge to run away. “I never knew you swung that way.”
“Neither did I,” I admitted. “But we met last night, and the way she touched me was electric… I don’t think I’ll be going on any single night outs for a while. Or hanging out.” No. No. No, what was I saying? What were these words coming from my mouth?
“...Are you okay, Leanne?” Jessica leaned forward, like she was going to place a hand on my forehead, but I backed up into the white woman behind me, into the softness of her breasts. My face was pale, and I wanted to scream that none of this was me. Even if I had been forced to enjoy the last night, it was clearly just because of the strange woman’s influence. I wasn’t a lesbian, I wasn’t the sort to just talk about touching myself - I didn’t even own a dildo. Yet there I was, telling her these things. Telling her I didn’t want to hang out anymore.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “Yeah. I’m just… my girlfriend’s demanding a lot of attention; she’s got me tired and fatigued. Not entirely sure what I’m saying, you know?” I tried to force words out. Maybe if I found something that wasn’t directly against what she wanted me to say? “I just need some time alone.” Yes. That was me. “With my girlfriend.” That wasn’t. “But maybe in a few weeks, we can all meet up together… get you a girlfriend, too.”
“I, uh - I don’t think I swing that way,” Jessica muttered, blushing and turning away. Her nipples were definitely visible through her shirt, but she was turning toward the building now. “Tell you what. I’ll see you later, okay?”
“I’ll see you later…” I agreed, smiling. Watching her desperately walk away. Staring at her ass as if it was my last fleeting hope, in those tight black pants that really showed off that heart-shaped butt I could take and kiss and play with. No. More thoughts forced into my head, clearly. Clearly.
I sighed and walked into the building.
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or, enter your birth date.*
April, real April, sat in her chair. Tied down, drugged up, her mind a whirl of colors and lost moments. It was dark in her basement, and she imagined everything from spiders to creatures, to herself. Herself, coming down and smiling at her, and placing a needle in her arm. Shooting her full of colors and wonder and love. She imagined seeing herself, straddling herself, naked body pressed hard against her stomach and bottom squirming between her thighs. She dreamed of a finger on her breast, lightly touching her nipple, kissing her nipple, biting her nipple.
She dreamed of a voice. A kind, whispering voice. Her own voice. “Your name is Mary,” that voice whispered. “You’re my maid Mary. You’re my beautiful Mary….” And the fingers stroked her hair, and the lips kissed her lightly between the breasts and the smile lit up her face.
April dreamed until hunger woke her up. Hunger and an ache in her arm, where a needle hung limp and empty. There was a heavenly scent rising up to her, of meat and cheese and salty pickle. Her tongue lolled faintly out of her mouth and she tried to reach for it. But her hands wouldn’t work. Her hands were bound to the chair, and she couldn’t remember why, but it irked her. She tugged again, trying desperately just to get to the burger. It felt like it had been days since she’d eaten anything solid.
“Is Mary hungry?” whispered a voice. Her voice, but her mouth wasn’t moving. Her eyes lifted from the burger to see her sister’s face. She’d cleaned herself up some since the last time April had seen her. She had actually put on clothing, a red dress and push-up bra that lifted her small breasts into what looked like real handfuls. There was also the scent of lilac that April recognized from her own collection of bathroom soaps.
The captive sister knew, by contrast, that she probably had a stench about her. She didn’t know how long she’d been stuck in the basement, delirious and away from her social life, but she guessed it was less than a week. Maybe Mary could have put off the maids a bit longer, or even fired them - heaven forbid, her place needed regular cleaning as much as those poor souls needed a job.
Either way, she could believe that Mary had pulled something off with the help. Yet there was also a dinner party she was hosting Tuesday, and her kidnapping had been Wednesday and there was no way in heaven or hell that Mary would have been able to call it off completely or pass for her. Not with the social world probably abuzz with talk of a twin. Someone would have pieced things together, and there would be police, and she would have been rescued. So she was sure it couldn’t have been more than a few days.
A few days. In a basement. With no one noticing she was gone. With no one feeding her, and drugs pumped through her system. With her sister smiling down at her, doing who knew what to her body, and touching herself. Her sister - bile threatened to consume her at that thought. Her sister. Touching her.
Then there was the scent of that burger again, pressed directly under her nose, and she pushed all thoughts aside as she eagerly bit down on - air. The burger had been pulled away from her again. Her eyes followed it, to her sister with the tightly cut and manicured fingernails and the little smile on her face. When had Mary found time to get a manicure? How long had she been down there, in the basement?
“You can have the burger,” her manicured sister was whispering. “You can have it any time. You just have to tell me your name is Mary. Just say your name is Mary, and you can have the burger.”
April stared, aghast. She knew her sister was insane, but was that really her plan? To bribe April into saying the wrong name with food? Not that it meant anything if she just said a word - it only meant that she was hungry, nothing more. She could say a few words to taste what was giving her that tantalizing smell of beef - had her sister made it? Or had she bought it someplace? Her dear sister, making her food…. Yes. For her sister’s food, it was perhaps worth it to just say…
“No!” She turned her head away, but her stomach rumbled and Mary only laughed at her. Her insane sister leaned forward, placing a kiss on Mary’s forehead, and it sent shivers of worry through her mind. “I won’t do whatever you tell me to…” she muttered, trying to draw strength from her own words. It didn’t feel like she was the one in charge, though. Not with her sister slowly climbing into her lap, pressing her fingers down between their bellies - Mary clothed, April naked, and a smile on the deranged twin’s face.
“Poor Mary…” whispered the free twin. “So wanting to be me, you’ve driven yourself crazy. But your rich sister will help you. She’ll make you realize you’re Mary, and then you’ll be all better.”
NO. That wasn’t the truth. She was April, not Mary… She was the sane one. Even if she didn’t feel that sane, denying food when all that was being asked of her was a few meaningless words. A few words that didn’t mean a thing but that she was hungry. Why was she denying herself this when she was so hungry?
“I’m not Mary…” she whispered, even though there was the burger, right at the edge of her vision, held in her crazy sister’s hands. “I’m not the one who’s insane.” Was it just her, or wereas her fingers fingers loosening? The meat starting to separate from the patty, the entire thing tilting toward the ground? “I’m not, I’m not, I’m not,” she whispered again and again, trying to squeeze her eyes shut - but they were locked on that burger, as it was slowly being released. It was going to fall on the ground - and she knew with a sickening twist of her stomach that she’d still eat it. She’d give in, and eat that burger off the floor if that was what it took to keep herself alive.
“....I’m Mary.” The fingers tightened around the burger. The patty was caught, just barely hanging into the bun, and April squirmed atop of her as she pushed the burger meat back inside the bun with her bare hands, tomato and lettuce squirming around inside as April, the fake April, the deranged April, smiled.
She put the burger close to the real April’s mouth, and the captive “Mary” opened her mouth for a bite of the burger. As she chewed the blissful food, she felt her deranged twin moving atop her, squirming. That hand was still pressed between their bodies, but now it was going lower. Dripping down between their thighs. Pressing between their groins. And Mary, the real Mary, was lifting the hem of her skirts to reveal bare pussy as she began to rock back and forth - pushing her finger lightly against April’s sex to start teasing the outer lips.
“No……” She moaned over the groan of meat in her mouth, as her sister began to play with her body. Just trying to get the word out shoved glorious meat from her mouth and onto the floor, though, and she snapped her mouth closed on the meat, just chewing. Pleading instead with her eyes for her sister to stop, as her sister leaned down to kiss her nipple. Against April’s will, a drop of liquid began to form between her thighs, and her sister attacked it with her finger, desperate to find more.
“No!” she cried again, and more food was shoved into her mouth as the finger crammed into her sex and the woman behind it smiled. She chewed the food, desperate to get it down so she could protest again, swallowing hurriedly as her sister began to kiss her nipple, and her body arched back in an unwanted moan as tingles of pleasure shot between her pussy and her tits.
She protested again, got more food. Protested, food. She wasn’t sure how many burgers she was being fed, or if she was just being fed the crumbs she lost every time she moaned. She only knew that every time she protested her sister’s actions, she got fed - but that wasn’t why she was protesting, she reminded herself. She was protesting because something was wrong. Something was wrong. With the way her sister was kissing each stiff rose nipple, and touching her aching pussy until she moaned. Something was wrong with the way she kept accepting food from her sister’s fingers, sucking on the fingertips to get oil released from every bite.
Something was wrong. With the needle being pressed into her side, and the food being fed into her mouth. If she could only remember what.
Author’s note: To support me, vote on what I write next and gain early access to my stories (such as She Lives Here Now and My Sister’s Captive), please join my patreon patreon.com/princesskay
or, enter your birth date.*
My Sister’s Captive
Written by Princess Kay
Edited by Eve
About the story: A story of twins, separated at birth. This story contains elements of incest, rape, and hypnosis through rather brutal methods, and “swapping places”. If any of this offends you, please do not read. If it turns you on, I hope you enjoy.
Regardless, it is a work of fiction - and I don’t advocate for doing this in real life. To anyone.
Mary sat on her sister’s bed. On April’s bed. Her bed, now that she was April. Mary thought that she should really try calling herself April, in her own head. It would make things better. She was, after all, the rightful April now that the damn imposter who had been living her life for twenty two years was tied to a chair in the basement. That Mary. With her long blonde hair - which would have to be cut. April never wore her hair that long when she was Mary. She’d only gotten hair extensions after seeing a picture of the true April in a magazine; the rich orphan, with her arm around the famous Kristen Carol. She’d known she needed hair like that, if she was to become the real April in the other April’s place. Yes. Because she was the real April. Right?
She was getting confused. Being confused was bad. Being bad got you punished, whipped - but only if your name was Mary. She would have to punish Mary, later, for confusing her. First she had to sort her thoughts out. The thought that she had used to be Mary, but now was April. The fact that she was now April, that everyone would call her April, that this house was April’s house and the car in the driveway was April’s car, and whatever friends the old April had were now hers. She only had to learn how to behave like Old April had. Just like she would teach the New Mary to behave like her old self.
Scared. Afraid of punishment. A servant to the whims of others. A toy to be used when urges overrode common sense and one needed to stick their fingers and their tongue places that were smooth and warm. That was the New Mary’s job, now; being a toy. A toy, and a maid, and a vapid plaything. Oh, New April was going to enjoy breaking the New Mary in.
Yes. She liked that thought. She smiled, leaning back on the soft bed, with its foam mattress and its goose down pillows. She wiggled her body back and forth, settling herself into the imprint her sister had made in this very bed. With her back, and her butt, and her cuteness. Her sister was so cute. She wanted to touch her sister.
Oh. Oh. New April hadn’t realized she wanted to touch her sister, until she’d thought it. New April had thought she just wanted to touch herself - but then, New Mary was Old Her. So in a way, it was touching herself. That would be nice, wouldn’t it? Reaching between her legs, gently parting her labia and sliding her finger along the walls. Or. Or. She could kiss herself. Kiss her sex. Kiss the slit. She couldn’t kiss her own slit, but she could kiss the old her’s slit. New her’s slit? Mary’s slit. April was going to kiss Mary’s slit.
Oh, but she had wanted to leave her sister down there for a while. Down in the darkness, growing steadily more hungry. Maybe more horny. Was she getting horny, like New April? Did twins get horny at the same time? Maybe every time she got horny, New Mary was twitching in her chair. The thought made her smile, and she slid a hand over her stomach to grasp her breast. Her small breasts, that just barely filled the palm of her hand. She thought she’d get her sister implants, so that she’d have something to wrap her mouth around during kissing times. She’d have short hair, big breasts, and maybe a fat ass. Then no one would be able to mistake them for one another ever again.
New April couldn’t wait any longer. She had to see her long-lost sister. Except she had to wait a little longer. Or her mean sister, who’d never found her, wouldn’t break properly. Then she’d never be able to kiss those sweet enlarged breasts, or lick the cute slit. She’d never be able to run fingers through New Mary’s hair, and tug back the head as she claimed the lips of what would be her maid. No. She had to wait, while the medicine took effect and made her sister groggy and suggestible. While hunger ate away at her.
She had to wait.
But hopefully not for too much longer.
Author’s Note: You can gain early access to this and other stories, as well as patreon exclusives, by visiting me at www.patreon.com/princesskay