Transformed! Nine Magically Erotic Stories

by Nadia Nightside

  She had never felt like that with anyone, ever. Jacqueline rather thought her role in life was, in fact, to make others feel that way about herself.

  And yet, despite years of self-training and endless adulation from all around her, Selene made Jacqueline feel lesser. She made Jacqueline feel like a distant fourth, well behind Marisol and Vivian and Selene, with Selene neck and neck with Vivian. How was that possible? How could anyone be so gorgeous as to not only compete with the flawless goddessness of Vivian, but also to make Jacqueline feel so insignificant and worthless and small?

  Jacqueline felt like crying, staring deep into the beautiful, perfect crystal, so full of truth and light, and thinking of how easy and effortless it was for Selene to look so gorgeous. Somehow, she held back her tears...and then Selene’s hand crossed over the crystal in her buoyant cleavage, breaking off Jacqueline’s train of thought.

  The dark-haired beauty appeared concerned. “Are you all right, dear?”

  “Um...” Jacqueline was unexpectedly choked up. “Um, I guess so. I’m sorry.”

  Selene’s perfect face transformed into a predatory grin. “You’re thinking about how gorgeous I am.”

  “Wh-what?”

  How could she know that? How could she get straight to heart of the matter like that? Had she been...had she been giving those thoughts to Jacqueline, somehow?

  Selene continued, her hand beginning to slide off her crystal again. “You’re thinking about how much better of a woman I am than you. Everything about you is determined by your hotness, and I’m hotter than you by a large margin. It’s quite obvious. You’re gorgeous right now, but I’ll be gorgeous forever. That’s just how things are. I’ll age beautifully, gracefully, and you have maybe another ten years, at best, before it all goes to hell for you. You'll still be able to pick up men in cheap bars, or maybe even marry some rich fool who doesn't have a good eye for true beauty, but it will fade, and hard, for you.”

  No one had ever dared to be so frank with Jacqueline. “I...I...I...”

  Selene tsked. “It’s all right, dear. Just look here.”

  She pointed at the crystal in her amazing cleavage. It sang to Jacqueline once again.

  “Look...there...” Jacqueline said, her voice becoming a soft, giddy monotone. “Cryst...tal...”

  “Yes.” Selene opened her blouse and discarded her blouse, sitting before Jacqueline now with her top completely off. Her beautiful breasts leaked down soft trails of milk. The liquid seemed to absorb back into Selene's amazing skin before daring to touch any of her luxurious outfit.

  And even before the utterly perfect visage of Selene’s bare, lactating breasts, Jacqueline could only stare at the beautiful, beautiful crystal. “It makes it very easy to answer my questions, doesn’t it?”

  Gentle, warm waves washed over Jacqueline’s brain. “Yes...so easy...”

  “You just take so much pleasure in thinking about what I have to say to you, don’t you?”

  Jacqueline moaned out happily. “So much pleasure.”

  “It’s so lovely to listen to a woman as beautiful as I am, isn’t it?”

  “Oh yes.” Jacqueline frowned. “B-but I’m beautiful too...”

  “Of course you are, dear. And do you know what? All the really, really beautiful girls sleep with my boss, did you know that?”

  “They...they do?”

  “Oh my, yes. They love it. They love him, totally. It makes them cry, thinking of how much they love him. Beautiful girls call my boss ‘Master.’ He owns their hearts and souls.”

  Jacqueline’s voice was soft, tears brimming in her eyes at the thought of such love. “Heart...and soul.”

  “If you’re a beautiful girl...you have to love Master, then, don’t you?”

  Her heart sung with Selene's words.

  “Have to love Master. Have to love your boss.”

  “That’s right, sweetie. I’m so glad you understand. You’re so smart, realizing that. It must be because you’re so beautiful that you understand already.”

  Jacqueline smiled with happy pride. She loved being complemented, especially when she knew she deserved it—which was always. So, she didn’t really know Selene’s boss...but she knew she loved him. She was a beautiful girl.

  “You’re so incredibly beautiful, Jacqueline doll...but you’re hardly as beautiful as me, now are you?”

  With a happy sigh, Jacqueline shook her head, eyes remaining locked on the crystal. “No...”

  “You’d love to be as beautiful as me, wouldn’t you?”

  “Oh yes. As beautiful as you? Yes, yes.”

  “Being beautiful has given you everything you’ve ever wanted, after all. It only makes sense that you get more if you were even more beautiful, doesn't it?”

  “Oh yes. I’d love to be more beautiful. I could be...I could be number one.” Jacqueline’s heart swelled, thinking such a thought. Being beautiful was the most important aspect of her life, after all.

  Arousal, hot and unstoppable, had swept through Jacqueline’s body. She couldn’t explain it, but she didn’t care. She needed, more than almost anything, a hot, hard fuck session. Preferably with Selene. Or this wonderful Master she mentioned.

  “Oh yes,” purred Selene. “The most beautiful girl in the world. The sexiest. The most wanted. And you could even sleep with my boss. Would you like that?”

  Be fucked by Master? Was such a wonderful event even possible for Jacqueline? That would be beyond her wildest dreams.

  “Oh,” Jacqueline gasped softly. “Oh my, yes. Do you really think so?”

  Selene slid off the the chair and approached Jacqueline, and began to gently massage the brunette’s heavy, gorgeous tits through her dress. Heavy cream dripped down from Selene's nipples, landing in Jacqueline's lap. Jacqueline moaned happily, soft tingles of pleasure pushing through her body. All the while, Jacqueline continued to stare happily into the crystal.

  “Yes. Of course, you’d have to be much, much prettier. You’re simply not pretty enough at all, are you?”

  Jacqueline hesitated now. “I mean...that is, I do get paid to be pretty...”

  “But you’re not as pretty as I am, are you? And my boss fucks me constantly.”

  That made perfect sense. Selene was so very right.

  “Oh. Oh, right.”

  Selene stepped away for a moment, opening the door and conferring with someone. She was handed a glass, and then leaned into it, squeezing her tits and filling the glass with her warm milk. The smell filled the air.

  The crystal was gone. A fog felt like it had been lifted away from Jacqueline’s head. There were so many new thoughts swirling around, spiraling in her mind. She wasn’t...wasn’t pretty enough. She shouldn’t have to sort through all these thoughts until she was pretty, like Master wanted. Right?

  Wait...what? No, that was wrong. That was all wrong. That wasn’t—

  But then, Selene returned, a transparent plastic cup in hand, filled to the brim with a spiral-patterned black-and-white shake. In the face of her unadulterated love for Selene, Jacqueline lost all doubt once more. The crystal, still shining, dangled between Selene’s breasts, somewhat obscured by them.

  “Here. Drink this.”

  Cautiously, Jacqueline took the shake. “I...I’m not sure. What’s in this?”

  “Beauty juice.”

  “Beauty juice?”

  Selene shrugged, her perfect, naked breasts bouncing happily. Flicks of milk landed everywhere. It was the single most beautiful action Jacqueline had ever seen anyone taken. “Oh, that’s just what I call it. Go on, have a little.”

  Jacqueline took a sip. It was heavenly. Then—emboldened by its delicious taste, she took a much larger one.

  “It’s a more refined version of what we used to call the Spiral Twist,” said Selene. “We took out all the alcohol and added some much more effective narcotics. That's the black part. The white is, well.” She giggled, stroking her wet nipple. “A house recipe, shall we say? Soon, you won’t doubt anyt
hing I say, and your body will only be useful for hard, forceful fucking by my boss, and some of the other men around here.”

  “Huh? Whazzat?”

  Jacqueline giggled. This drink was positively loaded with deliciousness!

  Selene pushed Jacqueline back into the corner with all the pillows, tugging away at the brunette’s tiny dress. Soon it was gone—and soon after, so were her panties and bra. Completely naked and completely dripping wet before the hot, luscious suddenly naked body of Selene. The crystal was gone, but it didn't matter. Jacqueline would do anything Selene said, now.

  Jacqueline’s body changed before her very eyes—her tits growing, her skin becoming shinier and even more flawless. She watched with some amazement as the mole on her left shoulder fled her body, floating like a leaf for a few moments before dissolving entirely. Her hair, already long and luscious, became amazingly, intrinsically soft—and full of pleasure. Selene, smiling, ran her hands through the thick locks, and Jacqueline moaned in instant orgasm just from the small thrill of having her hair adored.

  Oh god. She had been turned into a complete sex toy just for Selene...and just for her new Master, Mister Craft.

  That was so fucking wonderful.

  Selene lowered her face down between Jacqueline’s legs and started to lick. First the inner thighs, then the sweet, pink folds, and then finally burying her beautiful face completely, lapping at Jacqueline's clit. Jacqueline, gasping hotly, felt the warm perfect tides of bliss float over her body. Selene’s tongue on Jacqueline’s pussy was magical. Pure delight. Jacqueline had no idea anything could be so good.

  “Oh my god,” Jacqueline moaned. “Oh god...you’re so good. You’re so good, baby...oh god!”

  Bucking and panting, she came, and came again, losing track of her orgasms. She didn’t even know her body could take so many. Selene did not seem deterred in the slightest by all the movements of her hips or her constant, loud screaming.

  After several minutes of delight, however, Selene switched gears and began to finger Jacqueline’s drenched pussy. Milk dripped down from her tits, landing on Jacqueline's exposed torso. The skin quickly absorbed the substance, needing it.

  “You love me, don’t you, dear?”

  “Yes! God yes!”

  “You'll do anything for me, won't you?”

  “Yes, please! Anything!”

  “You love my boss, don’t you sweetie?”

  Selene was so calm, so serene, that she could have been typing a letter or organizing a nest of folders.

  “Oh yes! Love you! Love your boss!”

  “You’ll do anything for Him, won’t you?”

  “Definitely!” Jacqueline panted.

  “He’s your Master, isn’t he?”

  “Master, yes! Please let me serve Master! I need him so bad!”

  “Give me a nice cum, then, Jacqueline. Give me a cum to let me know you're a slave, just like me.”

  Obey, oh yes. Her first command to obey. Jacqueline was so grateful for the chance. With a riotous, toe-curling scream, Jacqueline came—and then came again right after that as Selene continued her hot, wet fingering session.

  After she calmed down, steam rising up from their bodies in the cool room, Jacqueline curled up next to Selene, the two new lovers cooing and kissing with perfect, hot affection.

  Selene kissed Jacqueline on the top of the head. “You’re going to be such a good slave for your new Master, doll.”

  * * * * *

  Marisol Garza, second most-highly paid supermodel in the world, smiled wide as she greeted the photographer, Hans, in the empty casino floor. It was a bit odd that the casino was empty—a Saturday seemed like a natural day for a casino to do booming business—but whatever, that wasn’t her specialty. Marisol was used to businesses and locations shutting down just for her—even though it embarrassed her quite a bit. Unlike the haughty Jacqueline or self-possessed Vivian, she had never quite gotten used to her supermodel status.

  “I’ve heard so much about your work,” she enthused, stepping around the empty roulette table where the shoot was due to take place. Tall lights were positioned all around it. “And I just loved that spread you did the other month with the leather.”

  This was an old tactic. Of course, she had never heard of Hans or seen any of his work. But every one had heard at least something about everyone else in her industry—either at openings, parties, gossip, or otherwise—and every photographer had done something recent with leather in the last year. Leather was in—Marisol certainly had worn quite a bit of it, covering her gorgeous, trim body in leather skirts, leather hot pants, leather corsets, leather boots...really, whatever there was to wear made of the stuff. It made her a good deal of money over a series of shoots. People didn’t seem to be able to get enough of her in tight, hot clothing.

  She didn’t quite understand the notion herself—she thought her body was too curvy, surrounded by so many rail-thin models all the time. The bouncy, bubbly quality of her 36E breasts got her quite a lot of attention in the modeling industry, though, especially coupled with her amply long legs and beautiful, naturally red hair.

  The two shook hands and he took a long view of her, up and down. Marisol was used to the attention—though she had never quite gotten to the point of enjoying it. Small goosebumps crawled down her spine.

  “I’m glad you like my work. I’ve been looking forward to displaying you for some time.” He smiled, opening his hands out to the roulette table. “Shall we get right down to it? I’m sure you’ve got a busy schedule. Don’t want to wait all day for me, all of that.”

  He had a peculiarly American accent for someone who was named Hans. His brown hair, narrow jaw, and dark eyes didn’t speak to anyone especially German either. But, what did Marisol know? She barely had an accent anymore herself, after spending years modeling overseas.

  “That sounds great,” she enthused. “I’m already in wardrobe, so...bring it on.”

  Beneath her comfy, plush robe, Marisol had on a tight black lingerie—panties, bra, stockings. Emerald stones decorated her elegant neck, matching the gems inlaid on her expensive heels. She let the robe drop, tossing it casually on a stool nearby. Normally, these sorts of sets had personal assistants floating around...but no matter. She was an adult. She could take care of tossing a robe.

  It was chilly in the casino. Her nipples began to stiffen noticeably in her tiny lace bra. A little self-conscious, she wrapped her arms around her tight, toned tummy.

  “So,” said Hans, clapping his palms together. “This shoot is all about greed. We’re gonna bring some guys in, and they’re gonna be greedy for you. You represent wealth. Not to be crude, but we want to show a lot of cleavage.”

  “Of course.”

  Like with any part of her body, she had never felt all that comfortable with her breasts being on display—but only because there was so much of them. She felt rather jealous of models like Jacqueline or Vivian, whose proportions were so insanely perfect and feminine.

  Of course, she had heard many say that she was the model of femininity herself—a perfect representation of the fertile female form. But, that kind of wording tended to throw her off. Fertility! Pshaw. At twenty-five, she hardly wanted to get pregnant any time soon. She had never even had sex bareback before.

  It was odd to her that there were going to be “some guys” in the shoot, though. Where were they? Why hadn’t she been notified? She would have enjoyed talking with them before hand to try to build up some kind of a line of communication.

  Oh well. Leaning forward, she posed on the roulette table as Hans prepared his camera, sticking her behind way, way out and arching her back. Modeling was all about angles, letting the audience see you from the most perfect view possible, and altering reality just enough to make you seem hyper-real. Bigger than life.

  Hans’s camera was strange—Marisol had never seen anything quite like it. There were lots of strange spinning lights on the front of it, and the flashes from each photo felt like they were
striking straight into her brain. It disoriented Marisol somehow, even though she felt herself thinking perfectly clearly.

  Flash. Flash.

  “I’m going to ask you to do some new stuff, but you don’t have a problem with that, do you? You’re a model, right? A professional? It’s all a show.”

  Yes, Marisol nodded happily.

  “A big show,” she said.

  Flash, flash.

  “That’s great,” said Hans. “And you’re really, really happy, okay? You’re practically falling in love with yourself. You’re just ecstatic, keep smiling, yeah?”

  Smiling brilliantly, Marisol let out a long, delighted laugh. Totally! She was having a great time. This place was fantastic.

  “Really tug at your bra, okay?” said Hans. Flash, flash, flash. “Push your cleavage together. Show off those tits. I know you love them.”

  Smiling happily, Marisol did just that. She did love her tits.

  Flash.

  “That’s great. You look gorgeous. I know you love showing off.”

  Marisol giggled happily, her pussy starting to get warm. She really did love showing off like this. It was her favorite thing in the world.

  Flash, flash, flash.

  “Do me a favor? Get really, really turned on? I want you to feel it. I want this to be making you a horny little sex doll, all right?”

  Oh, sure. Marisol could do that. She could be a horny sex doll. Why not? This was all modeling, after all. Just acting.

  Her pussy flooded with hot, easy arousal, lines of wetness beginning to drip down her stockinged legs. She licked her lips. Her fingers grazed against her nipples, and then pressed harder, tweaking them between her soft digits. Her legs splayed open, baring her barely-clad pussy to the camera.

  Hans stopped for a moment, texting something on his phone. Marisol waited, feeling hot and bothered, but still brilliantly happy. She had never felt so good in her life.

  Through the double-doors nearby, five strapping young men walked in, each one bigger and studlier than the last. Each was heavily muscled—and completely ripped, not a shred of fat on them. They all wore tight boxer shorts, the kind that let Marisol know exactly what kind of package they sported. Each must have been a monster...and at the sight and proximity of the beautiful redhead, two or three of them seemed to be stiffening rapidly. Smiling broadly, they surrounded her—so very large compared to her minute model beauty.