Personality fluid

It was a slim chance that I was home. I took the day off work and lay in bed meditating and trying to calm the rage. At the front door there was the clatter of keys. I listened and tried to think. It must be Jamie just getting in.
Jamie is a waitress/barstaff of a strip club called Calliope. She always comes home smelling of chips, spilled beer and sweat. I'd never been, but it sounded a cut above the rest. In the early days she would be home early, heralded always by the sounds of stumbling heels on the steps, drunken giggling and the amazingly loud jangling of her white-trash stripper fuck-buddy's earrings. The stripper dumped her for a rich guy who said he'd pay for breast implants. She didn't sleep for a week and started going crazy. Ate all my fucking ice-cream. She comaed out eventually and life went back to sort of normal.
Those fucking keys! She must be playing catch with herself. I got up. Maybe it would be good to talk to someone normal for once. The rage had settled to a steady burn in the background. As I padded towards the kitchen, I realised I was still naked.
'Hey Jamie, up for a little morning glory?'
'You wish.'
I could tell she was shocked that I was home, and a little disappointed.
'I'll stay out of your way Jamie, I promise. I'll just go and die in my room.'
'Oh, what's wrong?' She softened immediately.
'Just not feeling too great. Like my brains too big for my head.'
'You know what's good for a headache?' She said 'A nice hard fuck.'
'Tease.' I smiled. I sifted through the teabags and sniffed one of them. 'Are we out of Earl Grey?'
'Here.' She pressed up against me when I turned around. 'I wasn't kidding about that headache cure.' She kissed me. She was soft on my gritty face. My body responded to hers, compensating for my height, shaping me to her previously out-of-bounds curves. Suddenly the sweat smell was turning me on. I grabbed her ass with both hands. She came up for air, and the look on her face was odd.
'Guys are different kissers to girls.' I ran my tongue over my teeth. When she withdrew, I tasted the tip of her tongue. I looked at her, at the toast on the counter.
'Is that my marmite?' She looked at me through her eyelashes.
'Just a little bit.' The ever-present rage peaked. So I opened my mouth wide and ate her head.


Feeling cheerful, I decided to cook dinner. So engrossed was I that I didn't hear David until he appeared in the kitchen doorway.
'Hey babe. What happened to that headache you were sposed to have?'
'It's gone!' I could feel him coming up behind me, but didn't turn.
'Is that so?' A whisper. He tickles my ear, making me giggle like a little girl.
'Not interrupting, am I?' I panic. I think David actually jumps. She's pissed. Furious. I belong to her and here I am flirting with a guy I've known all of two months. Yet looking at him, seeing the two of them in a shouting match faces almost pressed together, I can't bring myself to self-loathing. They're so different that I can't think of it as cheating.
A hand grabs my nipple through the thin shirt. It jolts me out of my reverie. She twists.
'Well?' My dick, already hard at the twisting and the sight of her in fight mode, jumps at the venom in her voice.
'I'm sorry?' I say. Only slightly higher than usual. She pulls so I'm on my toes. In a calm voice she says
'Gayboy here says that you're an adult and can make your own mistakes -, I mean, choices of sexual partners. What do you say to that?'
'I say that David should learn the difference between sexual advances and flirting. Also the situations in which each is appropriate. For example, it is inappropriate to advance sexually upon someone if one person is in a committed relationship with someone else.' I deliver this in a monotone. She raised her eyebrows when that seemed all I had to say. I glanced at David then looked down, avoiding her gaze. I knew I'd pay later, but I couldn't do it in front of him. Without waiting for a response from him, she briskly led the way to my room. She wanted the thick basement walls that deadened sound.
I start to cry, soundlessly. I had betrayed her trust and I couldn't bring myself to push away the manwhore who had led me astray. She must be hurting terribly.
As we descended the stairs my chest grew, features became finer, and each step I took my head was further from the sloped ceiling, until I was a foot shorter than her. My long blonde hair, the same length, now fell to my upper back. My core tightened, muscles shifting and shrinking, and my groin opened beneath my penis. I was a woman.
We entered my room and she turns to lock the door behind us. I fall heavily to my knees on the concrete. I don't beg. I kneel. hands by my sides, tear tracks down to my jaw, staining my shirt beneath. She turns. The neutral look she had assumed in the kitchen was dropped, replaced by one of derision and contempt. She struck me across the face, hard enough to bruise.
'You're a chubby little slut, aren't you?'
I picked myself up and resumed the position.
'Yes, Mistress.'
'Let's go over the rules, shall we? When we're in public, and I exert my authority over you, what do you call me?' She was pulling on her dragon-gloves.
'Mistress.' I say. I'm sobbing now. The gloves are on.
'What?' She says. 'I can't hear you over how pathetic,' with this, she backhands me 'you are.'
'Better! And what did you not do,' another backhand, this time her left hand to my right cheek ‘When upstairs I exerted my fucking authority, bitch?’ She’s got her metalled hands round my throat, choking me.
‘Call you Mistress!’ When she releases me I fall back breathing heavily. She’s stalking back and forth and I’m just slumped here, trying not to pass out.
‘What the hell was that up there, slave?’ She’s stopped behind me.
‘What?’ She’s got some sort of riding crop back there.
‘I mean, nothing Mistress!’
‘Better!’ I love the way she says it, like it pains her, like she’s biting it. I can tell she’s really starting to enjoy herself back there, from the tone of her voice if not from the strength of her blows. I scream as she double taps, breaking the skin with the first blow then hitting the bared flesh beneath.
‘Quiet now, you don’t want your boy-friend upstairs to hear you. Or do you?’ A sly smile. ‘That’s what you want, isn’t it?’ A whisper in my ear. I can feel her penetrative desire. The crop that was seconds earlier accompanying her words with vicious bites is now caressing me slowly, lovingly. She pushes me down onto my elbows.
‘Stay!’ I hear her doing something. I’m resting my head on my fists feeling very exposed in only my shirt and jocks, which are now much too big. The noises stop and I hear her padding over to stand behind me.
‘You want his cock, don’t you?’ She bites the back of my neck.
‘Yes, Mistress! That’s all I want! His fat cock filling me up!’
‘Tell me what happened. Exactly.’ I can feel something cold sliding down my spine and continuing along the crack of my ass. It must be a blade. I can soon feel the coolness of air on my asshole. ‘Every last detail.’ The point of the knife is at the base of my balls.
‘I was cooking. He came in to the kitchen. I didn’t hear him open the door. He came up to me, and you walked in.’ My boxers were just two scraps on the floor.
‘Could you feel his hard raging boner pressing up against your ass? So hard you can still feel it?’ She was kneeling now. I could feel a lubed, ridged pole being rubbed up and down my crack jumping the empty hole. It must be massive, fully twelve inches long from the feel of it.
‘Were you wet?,’ She asks. ‘Was he making you wet?’ I’m scared.
‘Please don’t!’
‘Don’t what?’ Her hands slip to my shoulders, and grip. She’s getting ready to thrust.
‘Please don’t put it in my ass, Mistress!’ I’m wailing.
‘Why not? It’s what you ...

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