章 30: Suspect
"Who are you?" I demand of the attractive, blue eyed and very naked girl lying under me. An unmistakable feeling around my slightly stiffened penis tells me that it's nestled comfortably within her vagina. Wait. . . . No way! "Jennifer?"
"Ha, ha, funny Lyden," she states, batting her lashes at me. "Trying to forget that you fucked this fat cow already?"
"Umm," I start, not sure how to tell her about her transformation, "you might want to get a look at yourself."
Her brown eyebrows knit together, as she tries to figure out what I'm getting at, before using her not inconsiderable strength to push me off her. My cock makes a squelching noise as it pulls free from her coochy, and I see her wince in pain.
"Oh, I'm going to be sore down there for awhile," she grimaces as she lightly gets to her feet. She miscalculates, and ends up jumping as she attempts to lift her old weight off the ground. I sit back on the couch, and really get a good look at the woman that only a little bit ago, had to weigh over 250lbs, but right now, couldn't be more that 120lbs, and a good portion of that is in her breasts. Slender legs lead up to a nice round bum. Her hips are a little wide, but they don't compare to the size of her still giant tits. They hang down to her bellybutton, but not bad, just oversized. TanaVesta would be jealous.
Her face had always been somewhat cute, in a pudgy sort of way, but now, with her short brown hair, and vivid blue eyes, she's a stunner.
She's making the same examination as me, only she's lucky enough to be hands on. Sticking her small right foot out, she examines it in disbelief, before hefting her breasts apart, and staring at her skinny waist.
"What the FUCK did you do to me?" she demands, and I'm surprised to hear anger in her voice.
"Umm, I, uh," I stammer, not certain what to say.
"Don't you think that if I'd really wanted to be skinny, I could have worked for it?" Yeah, there's no mistaking the anger in her tone now. "I may not have been anyone's ideal, but that doesn't give you the right to go and change my body around to your own tastes!"
"I didn't mean to," I defend myself. "This has never happened before!"
"What did you think?" she continues as if I hadn't even spoken. "That I'd be grateful for the fact that I'll need to buy a whole new wardrobe? That I'd somehow be happier if I weren't so portly?" As she continues to berate me, her volume rises until she's yelling by the end. "What gives you the right to do this to me?"
Standing quickly, I can feel my own ire rising at the injustice of her anger. "Jennifer, stop! I had no way of knowing this would happen. It's not something I did to you on purpose, and don't even truly understand why it happened. If you really don't like it that much, just eat whatever you please, and don't work out. I'm sure you can get back to where you want to be within a few months."
"You don't get it, do you?" She demands, and once again I'm stumped. Are all women so arbitrary, and expect us men to just read their minds? "It's not so much that I'm no longer fat, but that now that I have this body, I'm going to have to work harder at keeping it. I was mostly okay with the way I was. I understood that I would never be skinny, and accepted it. Now that I am, I'm going to have to work hard to maintain it."
At some point in her explanation I must have sat back down on the couch. Stunned, I can only stare at her openmouthed. She's angry because she has to work to keep this body? I will never understand women!
"Or, you could just have sex with me on a weekly basis," I tell her, half joking.
"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you? Make you my own little skinny addiction? What? Just come up to you, and say, 'Excuse me Lyden, I need my weekly fucking to stay skinny.'" The sarcasm veritably drips from her tone. "Besides, if I'm always this sore afterwards, they'd have to be a week or two apart."
Throwing my hands up in frustration I shout, "Bah! I don't even care anymore. Do what you want. If you're not happy about it, I'm sorry. It wasn't intentional, and I would change you back if I knew how. I don't, though, so you'll just have to suffer everyone looking at you, and wishing they could catch the eye of the beautiful blue eyed woman that you are now!" Now I'm shouting, and I don't care about that either.
"You . . . you really think I'm beautiful?" Her words come out hushed, and I have to strain to hear them, over the sound of the blood pumping through my skull.
Is she bipolar? "Are you kidding me? Go look in a mirror," I state, waving my hand off vaguely. I have no idea where a mirror might be in this rustic cabin. I vaguely recall her telling me there is an outhouse out back. Do outhouses have mirrors?
Without warning, she's hugging me tight, and laughing into my shoulder. Lemme tell you, if a woman built as well as her hugs you, and you're both naked—well, except that I still have my socks on—you either react, or you're already dead. I may be angry, but I'm definitely still alive. It doesn't help that her very ample bosom dangles down and bounces around my very alert cock.
"Oh!" she gasps, pulling away, and noticing how hard I am. "Shit, did I really get that in me this morning? No wonder I'm so sore!" I decide not to tell her that my penis conforms to whatever woman I'm with, and just nod at her. "Well, I'm afraid you're going to have to find someone else to take care of that. I hurt too much to do it for you."
She tries to back away, but I grasp her wrist, and pull her back to me. "There is more than one way to take care of me," I inform her, then pull her the rest of the way to my waiting lips. Hesitantly at first, but with growing desire, she kisses me back.
Letting go of her wrist and grabbing her tits, I press them to either side of my woody, and moan with the pleasure the soft globes give me.
She pulls back only slightly, and looks to where the head of my prick is barely poking out between her round orbs, and then smiles at me. "You like fucking my big titties, don't you? Well, fuck them with your big cock. I want to see you cum all over them."
Her dirty talk is really starting to have an effect on me, and even though I'd gotten off just a little while ago, I can feel myself getting close. This is the first time I've ever had my dick between a set of boobs, and I have to admit that the feeling is quite wonderful. When her mouth drops down, and I feel her extremely talented tongue swirl around the head, I lose it. My first shot goes off in her mouth, and she pulls back, allowing the rest of my cum to spray all over her chest and neck. She spits my jism onto her chest, and then sits back on her knees, staring at her shiny bosom.
"I can't believe I got you off that quickly," she murmurs. There's a definite sparkle in her eyes, as she stands up, and walks out of the room. There is also no mistaking the extra bounce in her step. Despite the energy I've transferred to her, I still feel quite alive from all of her orgasms this morning.
I get dressed, before entering the attached kitchen, where Jennifer has a washcloth and is trying to get herself cleaned up.
"How do you get this stuff off?" She asks me as she continues to scrub.
"Use a bit of soap," I tell her.
Once she's fully cleaned, we head back to the couch, where she stares forlornly at her oversized clothes. Her old guard uniform looks more like a muumuu than a shirt, and her pants are hopeless. Only her shoes still fit, and she has to tighten the laces on them.
With her as decently dressed as she can be, we head down the mountain, and back into civilization. Our first stop is to get her some new clothes that I happily pay for. I then have her drop me off at the police station.
I have my story ready as I walk in. Jennifer follows me, and all the officers turn and look jealously at her. In her tight pink spaghetti strap top and even tighter jeans, she's a teenager's wet dream.
"What can I do for you," the officer behind the glass window asks. Thankfully it's a man, as his eyes are glued to Jennifer's chest. I'd been afraid that a woman might be upset with the way she's dressed, but this works well. Jennifer, for her part, and despite her protestations to the opposite, seems to be really enjoying the attention.
"Yeah," I begin my lie, "I've been up camping with my girl here, and when I got home this afternoon, my apartment was burned up and my car was missing. Who do I need to talk to about that?"
With some obvious effort, he tears his eyes away from Lansbury, and finally gets a good look at me. "You're Lyden Snow!" he exclaims as if he doesn't believe it. "We've been looking for you."
Crap! Apparently I'm already a suspect. Hopefully I'll be able to stick to my story, and get away with everything.
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