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“I don’t understand; I’d go down on him in a heartbeat! I don’t even care if his dick is like, tiny.”
Another failed hookup in a string of failed hookups. I was heartbroken. And this guy had had a lot of promise — a solid seven in the looks department, clean-looking, and wasn’t looking for a relationship. But midway through dinner, he’d bounced. Said his little sister needed a ride.
No one would choose to give their little sister a ride to having their cock sucked. But I just couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong.
“I must be cursed,” I decided. “Hey, give me something to uncurse me. A charm or a potion or whatever you witchy people do.”
Josh didn’t look up from the box he’d been skimming the back of. “Oh please, your nympho ass isn’t cursed, you’re just finally experiencing what it’s like to have a dry spell.” He finally glanced up at me, eyes filled with contempt. “Besides, you overshare. Constantly. You’re probably driving them away with the weight of your emotional baggage alone.”
Josh delt me a heavy blow in the same tone of voice he’d used to mention that it was supposed to rain. I groaned, draping myself over the glass countertop and doing my best to look pathetic. I felt pathetic. And horny. Painfully, damply horny. The kind of horny that made my insides itch.
“No I’m cursed,” I insisted, feeling sullen. “All of my hookups in the last three months have fallen through. And most of them weren’t even my fault.” I paused, remembering the guy two dates ago, who’d invited me back to his place and then got pulled over and arrested for an outstanding warrant. I hadn’t even had a chance to give him roadhead. “And the only reason I over-share is because none of them are giving me anything better to do with my mouth.”
Josh hummed, wrinkling his nose. He set the box aside and grabbed another one from the giant cardboard box beside his stool, flipped it over, and frowned.
“Hey,” he said, “if you were a dude who was into chicks, would you prefer to stick your dick in an onahole with arms and legs, or without?”
I glanced up at the box he was holding. The splash image was a highlighter pink female torso with huge, protruding tits, a wide, gaping mouth, and ahego face. No arms or legs though. The labia lips were soft looking but exaggerated, as were the round, plush buttcheeks.
“Super Soft and Stretchy!” The box read. “Two!!!! Realistic Channels!” “Cervix and Womb!” “Ass to Mouth Channel!” “Easy to clean!” “Realistic Ribbing!”
The box he’d set aside was a complete, poseable doll of a cute anime girl with tits bigger than her head and a look on her face like she’d been bullied.
I glanced between the two but I’m not into chicks and I don’t have the right equipment for Onaholes anyway, so I just shrugged and grumbled “Why even use them at all when there’s a living, willing, dripping cunt right here?”
Josh made an unnecessarily exaggerated gagging noise. “Please,” he shuddered “never, ever describe your cunt as dripping in front of me ever again.”
He grabbed both boxes and stalked over to one of the walls of shelves — covered from floor to ceiling with displays of fleshlights and onaholes of all shapes and sizes — pocket-sized ones disguised as flashlights; cylindrical, flesh-colored tubes with pussies or large, fake lips at one end; Giant asses; headless, limbless torsos; even a few in a small corner that were modeled after non-human sexy bits. In the center was an empty display. Josh stopped in front of it, holding up both boxes like he was picking out a wallpaper color.
“It can’t be that bad,” he said after a minute, “I refuse to believe you’re as hard up as you keep saying.”
“I am though!” I promised. I couldn’t even describe it to him — the utterly consuming, distracting need to have a dick in at least one of my holes. Not to mention the blow to my ego that I was trying so hard and failing to get laid. I’d never had this much trouble getting some before! I don’t believe in curses but at this point, I was honestly starting to wonder if God hated me or something.
Beep boop! Both of us paused and looked towards the door. A man in a denim jacket and a ball cap paused uncomfortably by the scantily dressed mannequins posing at the shop entrance.
“Hello, hello!” Josh greeted in his perky ‘customer service’ voice. “Looking for anything in particular or just browsing?”
The man’s eyes slid to the display of fleshlights to Josh’s right, and then he looked away, muttering something too quick to hear before vanishing down the aisle towards the racks of magazines lining the back wall. Josh grunted.
“Coward.”
He set the fully limbed onahole on the display and stepped back with a sigh.
“Are you going to keep showing up here after every failed date?” He demanded. “Don’t you have a vibrator or a wand or something?”
“Sure. But it’s not the same.”
“Go complain to your girlfriends about it.”
“But you are my girlfriend ~!”
The utterly disgusted look he gave me made me smile.
“You know what,” He sighed, stomping back to the counter and dropping the other box onto it with a thunk “If I do cast a spell, or a charm, or whatever, to help you end this dry spell of yours, will you leave me the fuck alone about how lonely you bits are?”
“Of course!” I said, insincerely. Josh had been my BFF since diapers, he wasn’t getting rid of me that easily. But maybe I could give him a break for a few days since I knew listening to me whine about my lack of action drove his perpetually single and unfuckable self up the wall.
He smirked, a wicked look in his eyes that meant trouble.
“Ok then. I just learned a new spell from an online coven I’ve been chatting with. It’s a ‘soul substitution’ spell.”
I wrinkled my nose.
“What does that mean?” I asked, suspicious. He just shook his head.
“It means I need a drop of your blood.”
He reached over and pulled the onahole out of its box, discarding the plastic and setting it on the counter between us.
“Eww, no you can’t have my blood!” I cringed back. I’d expected him to recite some hoaky rhyme or give me a rock with some essential oils smeared across it or something. Not anything that needed me to bleed for it!
“Don’t be a baby.” He pulled one of the large safety pins stuck in the lapel of his denim jacket and popped the top on one of the bottles of toy cleaner on display on the counter, dousing the needle in the liquid. “Give me your finger.”
“No,” I pouted.
“You want to get laid?” He growled. I stuck out my lower lip, the pit of my stomach - and the walls of my vag -- tightening. Of course I did. “Then give me your damn finger.”
After a moment of hesitation, in which I weighed getting my finger pricked for a good luck charm versus the fact that I didn’t believe for a second that daubing my blood on a sex toy was going to turn my sexual fortunes around, he grabbed my hand and jabbed my finger before I could react. I yowled in pain — I hate needles. I hate pain. And I have always hated getting my finger pricked when I visit the OBGYN. It’s my least favorite part. But at least the nurses are a little more gentle!
I tried to pull my finger back but he held on tight, squeezing my fingertip until a couple of drops of blood dripped out and splattered onto the onahole’s face. When he let go I stuck my finger in my mouth, glaring daggers at him, so mad I could have slapped him if I didn’t know full well he’d return the favor. He ignored me, holding his hand over the onahole and muttering to himself. I couldn’t hear the words, but I did feel a strange, surreal feeling like I was in a car and everything was moving but me. Vertigo or something.
It only lasted a second, or maybe it was several seconds — Josh’s chanting got louder and more fervent but I still couldn’t catch the words, like they were slipping right out of my brain the moment he said them. Super weird, but I was more concerned with the strange, hollow feeling settling into my belly. Like, I’m used to the need to be filled up, but this was a need to be filled up that I’d never had before. It felt like there was a hole there that was made only to be filled — and I don’t just mean my vagina, either, more like….it wasn’t just my body that was h0rny, but the very depths of my soul. Don’t get me wrong, I love cock, and I love having sex in a way that is probably not super healthy or normal, but it had never felt like this before. This was like a part of my very being was telling me that I was made to take cock and nothing else, and every second I spent empty was a second of life that just wasn’t worth living.
And then Josh’s freaky little chant ended and the feeling went away, as if it had never even happened.
“Well?” He asked. I opened my mouth to reply — although I wasn’t exactly sure what I was going to tell him — but a choked noise from behind us dragged out attention back to the man in the baseball cap, who was standing awkwardly at the mouth of the aisle just behind us. He was giving Josh a very unfriendly look, three parts scared witless and one part hostile. Josh just smiled at him -- a wide, toothy smile.
“Need to use the theater?”
__________
I left not long after that — just stuck around long enough to see Josh safely out to his car at the end of his shift; The shop was right next to a trucker’s stop, which was great for business because a lot of the trucks that came through were long haul rigs, which meant truckers on the road for long, lonely days at a time. For the most part, the customers were in and out, just looking to satisfy a need. But you could never be too careful, especially at two AM in the morning.
Before we left, Josh made me purchase the Onahole, and he left it, in its box, sitting on one of the concrete posts that acted as a break between the shop’s parking lot and the truckstop. He posted a bright yellow post-it note on it and wrote in sharpie: “FREE UNUSED.”
“Someone will take it,” he said, capping his marker and sticking it back into his jacket pocket. “I can’t guarantee you they will be any good, though.” He made a lewd gesture with his pinky and the fingers of this other hand. I snorted, although the strange feeling I’d had when he cast his spell lingered at the back of my mind. I’d already decided I’d gotten too caught up in Josh’s little magic act and had convinced myself I felt connected to the onahole just because he’d said I would. Still, part of me — you can probably guess which part — clenched in anticipation.
________________________________
When I got home I passed right the fuck out. It had been a long, long day, but I had the next couple of days off of work and I planned to enjoy them. I had downloaded a new dating app and had high hopes for catching some new fishies. When I woke up, bright afternoon sunlight was streaming through my window, lighting my room up in a cheerful dappled gold. I turned over in my bed, intending to go back to sleep, when I noticed that it felt like someone was touching me.
I sat up, throwing back my covers with a yelp, but there was no one in the bed with me, and no one in the room. And yet the feeling of hands kneading my hips didn’t go away. They were big hands — really, really big, like, they seemed to circle my whole pelvis, and I could feel the thumbs rubbing and pressing on my asscheeks.
I twisted and turned, trying to see behind me but I was alone in the room.
And then I felt it. Something hot and hard and very, very thick pressing against my vagina. It was so thick that it forced me to spread my legs to accommodate it. I couldn’t see it, either, like the hands, but I could feel it between my thighs. My legs spread wider and wider until I had no choice but to lift them into the air, gripping the back of my knees to keep them in place. It felt, honestly, like someone had taken a hot, throbbing telephone pole and shoved it against my cooch. I tried to roll away but the invisible hands were holding me in place, and I couldn’t do more than wriggle against my sheets.
And then that huge shaft began to push against me. I could tell it meant to penetrate me and I panicked a little - something that big would never fit. Not without breaking my pelvis into pieces, anyway — but I felt myself begin to stretch open.
The head of my bed is pushed up against one wall of my room, and across the room is a full-length dressing mirror. I like to use it when I have partners over because watching myself get railed is hot. I could clearly see myself now, and I could see the way my labia was parted and gaping around this giant inviso-cock, and I could see the way my vag was opening up, expanding wider and wider as the pressure forced itself forward.
Oh my god, I’m going to be impaled! I thought in shock, right before the shaft penetrating me gave a hard, short thrust. That enormous shaft pushed itself in me, popping past my entrance and forcing me open. I expected pain. I expected something dramatic, like my hips breaking into a million pieces. Instead, I watched as my hips seemed to stretch and expand. I could feel my bones creaking, the totally weird feeling of them shifting inside of me to accommodate…that. But they didn’t break. And it didn’t hurt.
Or, it did, but it was the kind of stretching, burning sensation I got when I took a nice, thick cock raw. I gasped, pleasure making me shudder and squeeze around the thing shifting inside me. I watched as my belly shifted, a bump appearing just over my hips. I could see in the mirror that my hole was stretched so wide I could clearly see inside my own vagina. I watched my pink, wet walls twitch and spasm as the bump in my tummy rocked back and forth a little, the bulge growing and shrinking as the shaft in my pelvis gave tiny, shallow thrusts.
I thought about the onahole Josh had left sitting outside for anyone to take.
Holy shit, it worked, I thought, caught between excitement and disbelieving, right before that hot, hard dick pulled out until I could just feel his tip barely kissing the ring of muscle at my entrance. I took a deep breath, anticipation sparking up and down my spine.
“C’mon, big guy, let me have it,” I muttered. I’m not sure if he could hear me the way I could feel him, but suddenly I was taking more dick than I’d ever had in my entire life. It was like having a phone pole rammed inside of me — my hips stretched in a way only an onahole’s could, and the bulge of his shaft rammed right past my pelvis and up into my stomach. I moaned loudly as the ridge of his cockhead scraped over my G-spot and kept on going, my whole body spasming in pleasure, my pussy clamping down on his cock as hard as it could, desperate to be closer to that raging heat, to be a good, tight little cock sleeve.
I could feel my organs shifting around inside of me as his dick barreled by. I could feel my vagina stretching like a rubber band as his cock pushed my womb deeper and deeper inside my body. I could see my cervix in the mirror, concaved and straining over the head of his dick, like the well of a too-small condom. I could feel the head of his cock mashing it, crushing it up into my womb without pity. I could even see my womb, just slightly: the outline of it was pressed into the skin of my tummy where his dick was protruding. His shaft had a nice upward curve to it, apparently, and it was poking out over my ribs, my babymaker and ovaries crushed into my skin.
He gave a couple more shallow thrusts, my womb appearing and disappearing in my line of sight. Then a longer, harder thrust which stretched my vagina even more. The bump of his cock head kissed the underside of my ribs, then retreated. I whined at the loss, but I could feel his hands shifting on me.
One of his hands wrapped around my waist, thumb resting on my belly. There was a moment of vertigo, as if I was moving, even though I was still laying flat on my back. Then the sensation of falling and his shaft was back, shoving roughly into my insides. This time his cock hit deeper, pushing behind my ribs, pushing them outwards as his cockhead nestled itself just under my lungs.
He didn’t stop. He was thrusting in earnest….or was he bouncing the onahole on his cock? The thought floated by but was immediately lost to the surging wave of Yes! And Oh God harder! And Of fuck, fuck more, yes, right there, yes! As he jerked himself off with my body at an increasingly furious pace. His cock jabbed hard and fast inside me, sometimes hitting under my ribs, sometimes his cock bulged out of my stomach, curving up in front of my face and presenting me with the throbbing outline of his cockhead dragging my womb and ovaries along for the ride.
My vagina was gaping, contracting and expanding. I watched as he fucked me hard and fast, my walls clenching and spasming against his rock-hard flesh. I came. And I came. And I came again as he destroyed my insides over and over and over, distending my stomach, wrecking my organs and it was so good I wept, tears blurring my eyes. My mouth hung open and gasping and in the mirror I had a fucked stupid, blissed-out look plastered across my face. My nose was running. I was drooling. My tongue was lolling from my mouth and I was panting like a bitch in heat. And every time he pushed that gigantic rod back in me, he punched the air out of my lungs in a high-pitched “Ah~! Ah~! Ah~!” I was practically screaming.
I don’t think he lasted very long, really, but keeping track of time wasn’t exactly something I was capable of. I lost track of my own orgasms, they seemed to just roll in waves, one after the other, each more intense than the last as my body became more and more sensitive. At one point I felt his fingers pinching my left tit, kneading it and squeezing it, tugging roughly at it, but I was too far gone at that point and it only made me arch my back as best I could with that thing pistoning inside of me and cum so hard my vision whited out.
I sure as hell felt it when he dumped his load in me, though.
This guy must have been pent-up. I mean, really pent-up. He’d shoved himself as far up in me as he could get and I felt his spunk pouring inside of me, boiling hot. It filled me up like an overstuffed puff pastry. His cock twitched and jerked against my ribs as he shot jet after jet into my poor abused womb.
I’ve never felt that full — like eating a huge meal and then going back for dessert. I started to worry that my new onahole body wouldn’t be able to handle it and would burst.
He finished, eventually, and slowly pulled his dick out. I let my legs down with a sigh of relief and lay there staring as the giant, distended lump that was my womb slid from my chest back to my abdomen. It was huge! I didn’t just look pregnant, I looked like I was going to give birth any second! I pressed my hand to it. It was so full it was solid, the skin stretched taut like a drum, and I could feel his jizz sloshing inside.
Can I get pregnant from this? I wondered. If it was possible, I was going to be pregnant for sure. There was no way I wouldn’t, with this much cum inside of me!
I was just wondering how I was going to explain this at work when I felt what I assumed were his fingers pushing into my used vagina. I was forced to spread my legs again as he pushed two thick, rough fingers inside of me and scissored them open until he was stretching my vagina wide enough that my cervix was, once again, on full display in the mirror.
This time, instead of being crushed inwards, my poor cervix was bulging outward, hanging heavy like a ripe fruit under the weight of his ejaculation. I couldn’t see any semen, but I could feel it leaking out, a slimy, wet feeling as it escaped the rubber womb of the onahole. One of his fingertips pressed against my cervix, brushing it curiously and I groaned as a ripple of intense pleasure-pain cramped my abdomen, causing me to spasm. He prodded me for a moment. Then, to my surprise, he forced one of his fingers inside.
I wasn’t prepared for that and I shrieked, twisting in the invisible grasp of his other hand. His finger wiggled inside of my womb. I could feel him rubbing my innermost walls and it was driving me crazy, cramping like I was on my period; But instead of the agonizing need for my heating pad and a couple dozen Midol, the pain was like an itch I couldn’t scratch on my own, the same kind of itch I’d been complaining to Josh about just the night before. The kind of itch that made me need more, that made me want to sink my teeth into something and scream with need.
I’ve never really been into pain. I’d had a few lovers who wanted to try out whips and gags and those little spur things on handles….whatever they’re called. A couple even asked if they could tie me up, bind my tits until they were sore and purple. One asked if he could put needles in me, and I’d let a few of the less psycho-sounding ones try it out but it never really did anything special for me.
This though….
A second finger pushed inside me and burrowed its way beside the first. When he scisored his fingers, my cervix stretched open and I could feel the gush of semen as it left my body, pouring out of me in a thick, sluggish waterfall. The hand holding me squeezed my waist, the tips of his invisible fingers pushing into my distended belly and forcing more of his spunk out of me, flattening my stomach and wringing me out. His fingers were still holding me open and I could see them just as clearly as I could see his cock while he was fucking me stupid.
He pulsed his fingers a couple of times, getting as much out of me as he could, I guess. I’m not sure how it felt exactly — All I could concentrate on was the feeling of my cervix being stretched like a rubber band. I clawed at the sheets, whining in the back of my throat. I could feel his nails digging into the soft inside of my female parts but even that didn’t hurt in the same way I knew it probably should. It just made me dig my nails deeper into the mattress, and wish that he’d shove his cock back in instead. Maybe wear my womb like a condom properly this time, instead of just bulling my cervix like a battering ram.
I didn’t notice when the hand gripping me disappeared, or that it felt like I’d been lain on my shoulders. I didn’t notice much of anything until I felt warm liquid pour into my stretched womb.
This didn’t feel like semen — it was more tepid and not as thick. Water, I decided, confused. I watched as my belly began to distend again, growing larger and larger — even larger than when he’d emptied his balls in me, until it was so large I couldn’t see over it to the mirror anymore, my skin straining and stretched thin enough I could see the webs of veins beneath and the rest of my insides were well and truly crushed under its weight. His fingers were still holding me open, and when the water stopped, it took me right up until I felt the…cloth? Toothbrush? The cleaning tool pushed between them to realize that he was cleaning the onahole out.
Whatever he was using to scrub me out, it was not soft. He scrubbed my insides the way I’d seen my little brother brush his teeth — without mercy. And it wasn’t just my insides, he was set on cleaning the whole damn doll. My tits, my belly, my clit, everything was scrubbed. The cleaning tool was abrasive and it only took seconds to dissolve me back into a screaming, sobbing, begging mess as every sensitive place on my body was attacked with stinging, raw pain that bled mercilessly into pleasure so intense, it was mind-breaking. The bump of the cleaning tool appeared against my skin occasionally, pushing it just that little bit more taut.
It burned but in the most agonizingly delicious way.
Once he was satisfied….and it could have been minutes or hours, I couldn’t tell you…he stopped. I watched through tear-blurred eyes as my belly slowly deflated, the water pouring invisibly out, and his fingers slid out and then….nothing. I was lying alone in my room, my belly was the same as usual — flay enough that I could be called thin but with a soft pudge to it that made it pretty obvious that I wasn’t exactly athletic. Not a single stretchmark or sag to prove that my stomach had just swelled to twice the size of my head.
And that annoying, teeth-grinding, horny itch between my legs was gone and I was so satisfied I’m pretty sure even my bones were sighing in relief.
I stretched, pleased, and grabbed my phone from its charger on the bedside table, shooting Josh a text message:
UR teh BESTEST BESTIE!!!! EVERR!!!!!!!!!!! <3 <3 <3 <3