Lust Party Bundle (Unprotected Delights)

by Nadia Nightside

  Eleanor didn’t bother waiting for an answer. She left Morgan in the entryway alone, turned on and more conflicted than she had been before.

  * * * * *

  Back at her apartment, Morgan sat at her kitchen table, looking soulfully at the vial of dark violet elixir.

  One drink from that vial, she thought, and it all goes up in smoke. Everything I thought was real or allowed by the physical world suddenly becomes an entirely new reality, unchained by anything related to the familiar.

  One drink from that vial, and my entire life becomes a fever dream of sex and seduction, with every last man and woman falling under my spell simply because I’ll be that fucking hot.

  One drink from that vial, and I can have those orgasms again. Those sweet, sweet orgasms that feel like they last for hours, that provide a pleasure plateau well over and above the normal world with peaks of bliss that rocket up into the stratosphere.

  One drink from that vial, and I can have Lionel’s cock inside my body again, fucking me into silly putty while I beg for more.

  One drink.

  She considered this sitting on her hands, because before, when she had been studying the vial, her fingers would subconsciously move to her zipper and try to slide inside of her pants. It was a good thing, she knew, that she had worn pants and not a skirt. If she had worn a skirt, then likely the battle would have been over already.

  “Just throw it away,” she said out loud, to herself. “It’s too unpredictable. Who takes drugs from some maniac who whips it together in his basement? It’s madness. Pure madness. Just throw it away.”

  Except it wasn’t entirely madness. She had felt the transformation. She had been changed. And Braddock, while absolutely an eccentric, wasn’t accurately a “maniac” either, as his entire approach was thorough and scientific.

  He had given her the notes on his elixir and the process of refining it for her to study. He apparently didn’t care who knew how to make it at this point. The more the merrier, in his mind.

  What she could make out of his information-dense notes all seemed rather straightforward. One trial after another.

  Although—perhaps he wasn’t telling her everything. Even the first trials he supplied were successes of some kind, with the subjects feeling fine after the effects of the elixir had worn off. The issue then hadn’t been to find the right effects, it was simply to make them exponentiate—for them to last longer. Wasn’t that odd—for him to formulate an elixir like this whereupon the very first attempt was an qualified success? Were there other trials...trials he wouldn't reveal to her?

  There was so much that smacked of the occult about this whole ordeal. The supernatural. There were all those scrawls and arcane symbols all over his house, his punch bowls, this very vial. Where did that figure in?

  As she considered this, the vial had arrived in her hand once again, unbidden by her conscious mind. Her thumb was toying with the stopper. Earlier, she had uncorked the vial entirely and the heady, delicious smell of the elixir had entered her nose—and it had taken everything she had, plus a cold shower, to convince herself not to drink it then and there.

  There was a knock at the door. Morgan rose to answer—another delivery? More vials?

  She opened the door, looking down at the mat, expecting to see a package. Instead she saw a set of gorgeous white heels attached to an even more gorgeous pair of legs. A small pit of dread opened in her stomach, combating with the instant spread of arousal blossoming in her chest and pussy.

  The legs slipped up into a tight, white minidress, the kind club sluts wore when they wanted to get laid fast, with little patches of open skin on the side and up the front revealing toned tabs and impossibly huge tits.

  It was Colette. Her blond hair curled down one side of her impeccable face, bright blue eyes staring with predatory desire at Morgan.

  “Hey doll,” she chirped. She blew a big bubble of pink bubblegum. “Wanna go grab some young hungry cock to stuff our holes?”

  Just a week before, Colette had been a firmly, fully confirmed lesbian. She had, in fact, crushed on Morgan for some time.

  “I...” Morgan gulped.

  Colette was very attractive. Her tits were mouthwatering in that tiny dress, so amazing in their display. And Morgan, in her right mind, was not bisexual. But the elixir had woken something in her—something that didn’t care about man or woman, male or female, so long as there was sex involved. And with Colette, there was a lot of sex involved.

  “Come onnnn!” Colette took Morgan’s hands, inviting herself inside. “Let’s go! Get dressed in like, something cool like the other night, and let’s go have a ball! I’ll lick your pussy beforehand if you want.” She caught the look in Morgan’s eyes. “Or you can lick mine?”

  Morgan shuddered, trying to block the hot image that gave her.

  She summoned all her strength. “I think you should go, Colette.”

  “Really?” Colette clasped Morgan’s hands to her breasts. “You want me gone? You want these gone?”

  Morgan gulped, feeling the heavenly warmth of the full, firm tits beneath her grip.

  “I was at the office today, doing what you did. I hopped from cubicle to cubicle, just seducing, sucking, slurping, and fucking. It was so easy.” Colette took Morgan’s fingers, wrapping them in her cleavage. They disappeared quickly. “People just end up wanting to do what a pretty girl like me says. Don’t they, Morgan?”

  “Y-yes,” she said, voice quiet and soft. It was so easy to be led along by Colette, who was so sure and true.

  Somehow, they were on the couch. Colette had the vial of elixir in one hand. How had that happened?

  “It’s just easier to do what a pretty girl says. To think the way that a pretty girl says to think. Isn’t it?”

  Morgan nodded minutely, and Colette giggled and leaned forward, kissing her on the chin and neck. The kisses were slow, wet, and warm; Colette’s clear need shining through. The smell of cock and cum was heavy on her breath and Morgan wanted to inhale it forever.

  “Why don’t you drink the little elixir like you had me do? Then we can be sisters again. Cock-loving fucksisters, having fun out on the town. Doing whatever we want. Making everyone else do whatever we want. We could have brand new cars by the end of the night, I bet. The both of us. One each. Hot little sports cars to hold our hot little bodies, given to us by hot-bodied studs who need to see beautiful babes in big bad ass cars. What do you think, Morgan? Wouldn’t that be nice?”

  Morgan's jaw shuddered. She wanted that more than she could possibly say.

  She tried, still, to protest. “But it’s...there’s something wrong with it all. There’s...it’s...it’s not you. It’s not us. You didn’t even like men a week ago!”

  “Right?” Colette giggled. “What a stupid cocktease I was. Women are made to take cocks. Oh, pussies are nice. Very nice,” she slipped her hand down Morgan’s loose pants, middle finger slipping just over her clit. Morgan let out a long moan. “But cocks are really where it’s at, aren’t they? Cocks are what it’s all about. Serving and loving and sucking and fucking cock. Getting preggo from cock. Teaching others how to take cock. That’s what we want, isn’t it?”

  “F-fuck...” Morgan whispered. “Fuck. Stop. You have to...have to fuck...stop...”

  She didn’t know if she spoke to herself and her pleasure or Colette. Either way, the protest landed on deaf ears. Her body was brimming with heated bliss, and Colette stroked her clit more urgently than ever.

  “I left Lionel for you,” Colette purred. “His cock, totally untouched. Still straining and yearning, probably, just for you. You want it, don’t you?”

  “Y-yes,” Morgan whispered. “Yes, very much.”

  Hispregnantfuckslavesoeagerandsowantingonmyhandsandkneeseverydayachingtobefilledwithhisbrood

  Colette, squeezing a breast hard, slid the open vial against Morgan’s lips. “Then drink, darling.”

  Her resistance broke, crumbled like the sandcastle that it was, that it
had always been. The second the elixir hit her mouth, Morgan knew she had made a brilliant decision. Confidence, easy and sexual, rushed through her body and every part of her knew that what was happening now was destined to happen.

  Colette made to kiss her, perhaps to taste some of the elixir for herself, but Morgan pushed her off—pushed her down—so that Colette’s luscious mouth was mere inches away from Morgan’s rapidly changing pussy. Her scent suddenly flooded the room, a heady mix of pheromones and musk that made the delicious young blonde’s mouth drool with desire.

  “F-fuck, Morgan,” Colette whimpered. All her sultry cool was gone, all her ready seduction gone in an instant in the face of this new primal need to taste the cunt of her superior. “Fuck me, please?”

  Morgan looked down at her, enjoying the view as Colette grew smaller and Morgan taller. Her pants began to rip at the waist and thighs as her muscles toned and lengthened. The tight denim split so much that it was easy to rip them off and admire her legs as they grew every more shapely and long, the length and tone utterly fascinating her to the point of her almost forgetting to admire her other rapidly evolving body parts.

  Almost, but not entirely. It was, after all, hard to forget about her sensationally expanding bust as she was staring down anyway. The nipples became ripe, erotic raspberries of delight, the amazing tear drop shape expanding quickly to a size even more impressive than they had been already.

  Morgan pushed Colette’s needy mouth into her drooling pussy, catching her reflection now in the tall window of her apartments. Her breasts were easily bigger than Colette’s, whose own immense breasts pressed hard against Morgan’s newly-perfected legs.

  Colette clung to Morgan’s body, her hands clenching into Morgan’s hot, firm ass that was without peer in the world of man. Every lick was soft, urgent, and sensational, sending hot thrills through every part of Morgan’s body.

  Her hair and face transformed as well. The face easily regressed into the angelic mixture of pouty and wicked, the heavily hot “come and try it” attitude written all over her every centimeter of flawless perfection. Lips full and wet, her cheekbones angling out into sharply defined totems of pure sexuality. Her chestnut locks became thick and vibrant, sliding down her back in long voluminous waves that were thicker altogether than her newly-tinified waist.

  Colette, staring up at her and licking for her life, came uncontrollably at the sight of the freshly-minted love goddess she pleasured.

  “Yes,” Morgan moaned, throwing her lustrous hair back. “Yes, just like that. Just. Like. That. Just like that!”

  She didn’t have to cum, not if she didn’t want to. With the power that filled her now she could feel the easy control over her own orgasms, to dictate when and how they arrived like a general scattering soldiers about. But she did want to cum, and she wanted it now, and so she unloaded with Colette beneath her.

  One lithe leg rose up and wrapped around Colette’s head, pulling her in for her own uses.

  The orgasm shook through her, blowing away every other orgasm she'd had in her life—and making the one she'd had earlier in the day a bare distant thing, like a bird singing on the other side of the world.

  Her pleasure was so great that it eclipsed her own body, spreading into Colette's, who twitching and thrashed beneath her with unstoppable bliss.

  Colette collapsed to the ground, licking Morgan’s feet obediently. Still awash with pleasure, Morgan looked at her for a moment, carefully stroking her lover’s thick blond hair with one flawlessly pedicured foot.

  “Good girl,” she said with a grin. “Such a good little doll for me.”

  She straightened, eyeing the massive pile of designer clothes in the corner. Her gaze glimmered with possibility. It was time for Colette and her to put on a little fashion show for the town.

  * * * * *

  The Edition had no idea what hit it.

  Morgan walked in the next morning, completely bypassing security when she flashed a wink at the old guard. He was barely able to stand up to check her identity card to get into the building, and once he did stand, the size and intensity of his immediate boner made him sit down again almost instantly.

  A tiny blue skirt did nothing to cover the long expanse of her peerless legs and instead did everything to display them. The skirt was barely eighteen inches in length.

  Her top was a trendy micro-blouse, half-unbuttoned and baring all over her braless cleavage, held together by all appearances by sheer force of will and its skintight clinginess to Morgan’s rockin’ bod. Boots, skintight and suede, slid up over her thighs and clicked smartly on the tile floor as she strutted from one end of the office to another. Her hips and legs had developed a natural model’s walk, one foot right in front of the other, hips swaying sexily, advertising their complete fertility and ability to bear as many children as whichever alpha studs could manage to hold her down and make her give them to him.

  Tight gloves, leather and long, stretching up past her elbows, completed the sexified look. She was a walking decoration; a living reason to stare; an argument for the objectification of every female in the world. She wanted eyes on her. She wanted to be treated like a trophy.

  She wanted Lionel Powell.

  Colette walked with her. Her own outfit was a sort of school-girl chic. This was especially true due to her bright red pleated skirt, only inches longer than Morgan’s, swishing merrily around her bodacious ass and gorgeous legs.

  Boots, again—tight, dark, and suede—wrapped up just over her knees with thick useless tassels hanging off the sides, there purely to entice whatever man was around into looking. Her sweater was soft and white, and though it did not show any cleavage, it was so tight and sheer that the busty blonde was practically topless inside of it. Her nipples, thick and erect, were easily seen.

  When she bit her lip at a passing couple, the man walked into the wall and then forgot about his partner altogether, following after Colette with a bloody nose and a thickly hardening cock.

  The two of them walked through the office of The Edition, not bothering to give anyone the favor of a glance or a smile. Colette was sorely tempted, but then, after last night, she was Morgan’s creature now, and Morgan had given her very strict orders.

  Rather than going out on the town immediately, Morgan had opted to tie Colette to the bed with some of her newest pairs of stockings. The giggly blonde could not stop the newly Awakened Morgan in all her glory, not even if she wanted to—which Colette most certainly did not.

  And so Morgan then spent the following eight hours with her tongue attached to Colette’s clit, her fingers sliding in and out of her moist, ever-so-tight cunt, licking and sucking and kissing and bringing Colette to orgasm again and again and again. Morgan’s mouth, literally, had taken possession of Colette’s cunt. And Colette would do anything now—anything at all—to get even a fraction of such attention again.

  So the two of them walked with great determination straight to the door of Lionel Powell. From all the commotion at their arrival, he had stepped outside and—naturally—became rather dumbstruck as he witnessed the two model-level beauties eyeing him with unbridled lust, licking their lips. Morgan grabbed him by the tie and delivered a long, scintillating kiss, their faces melding together for what felt like hours but was only a spare few seconds.

  “Inside,” she purred, pulling on his tie, “With us.”

  She pulled him in and Colette shut the door behind them. In short order, Lionel was on the couch in his office and Colette had closed all the blinds.

  “This is...very irregular...”

  He sounded tired, but he wasn’t. There was just so much blood rushing away from his head and into his cock that his body was losing its way to keep up.

  Standing over him, so very tall in her high-high heels, Morgan bent over and began to unbuckle his pants.

  “What are you doing?” he asked. His voice was dazed, looking and re-looking at everything Morgan had to offer. Her body was a wonderland of supernaturally sen
sational delights. His gaze seemed fixed on her tits inside her tiny outfit, pressed together so easily and hanging just in front of his face.

  “Something you want,” she explained, sliding her leather-clad hand around his cock. “Isn’t this what you want, Lionel? Don’t you want me giving you a hot leather-gloved handjob like this?”

  “I...I...I...”

  He gulped, struggling for air. She didn’t want to give it to him. Lurching forward slightly, she pressed his face into the tanned, soft expanse of her perfectly crafted cleavage. For a moment, he moaned in protest—and then the moans shifted, his breathing changed, and he began to lick at the deep valley between her hot tits.

  All the while she was still stroking his rapidly hardening cock. Precum began to spurt out the tip and she rubbed it in to his cockhead and shaft with her supple leather gloves. They were probably ruined forever but that hardly mattered—she could also just seduce some other weak-willed fool into giving her more. Or buying some for her. Somehow, that was even more exciting than simply being given the gloves.

  His cock soon became fully hardened. She stroked it with gusto, moaning and aching, licking the tip as more and more precum slid out. Colette dropped down with her and the two of them traded long, sensual kisses across his cockhead. Their tongues intermingling and meshing as they melted up and down his thick shaft. Lionel just moaned, his hands lost in their hair, as Morgan continued to stroke.

  But it wasn't enough. She needed him inside of her, and she needed it now. She pushed Colette away and turned around, pulling her skirt up. Lionel ripped her panties aside, their silk fabric easily tearing from his powerful grip. Morgan lowered slowly, rear-end facing Lionel, and soon his cock slid up entirely into her moist, ready cunt.

  Taking initiative, Colette positioned herself at the top of the couch, lowering her hot, fresh young cunt down onto Morgan’s face. Her hands climbed up onto the blinds covering the window. Morgan had to crane her neck to lick properly, but it was worth it—Colette’s cunt was so fresh and sweet.