Author: AnonyMPC

Title: The Lolly Anne Conspiracies #1: "The New Lolly Anne"

Summary: Michael wakes up in the body of a little girl with a strong sexual appetite.

Keywords: tg, magic, ped*, loli*, Mg*, MMg*, g*g*, 1st*, viol

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The Lolly Anne Conspiracies (tg, magic, g*, ped*, loli*, viol)

The first time it happened, I had no idea what was going on. In that respect, I'm like many others. Even some of those who chose this life, who knew it was coming, have told me that when it first happened they were surprised and wondered if it was a dream.

In my case, that it was a dream was a natural conclusion, since the night before I'd had my share of those. Unsettling dreams about being held down by somebody laughing while I screamed. That's common too.

When I first woke up that morning, just for a few moments, I felt strange, like my eyes weren't quite right. For one thing, colors seemed to be more vivid, and subtly different shades of the same color stood out. If I didn't know better, I might have suspected I'd been shaking off the effect of some kind of psychotropic drug, but I didn't feel high, so I assumed I was caught in that place in-between dreams and reality, where they mixed a little too freely. Whenever I get like that I can usually choose whether to wake up fully or descend once again into slumber. I was still drowsy, and knew I didn't have to go to work that day, so I decided to sleep in.

I must have spent an hour or so in that state, drifting in and out of consciousness, the comfort of my bed and dreams which were growing more and more erotic, when a noise jarred me. Somebody was coming through the front door.

I sat up in a panic at first, thinking it was a burglar or something, but then my heart settled. It was Sharon, my girlfriend. I just wasn't used to people coming over uninvited, but as I awoke a little more the initial fear subsided as I remembered that just last week I'd finally given her a key to my place... after she bugged me about it for almost a month.

She thought my reluctance was a sign that I wasn't willing to commit. She was right. Sharon wasn't "The One". I liked her, cared about her, but I didn't love her, and I knew it. It was horribly unfair of me to keep stringing her along, but I enjoyed dating her and occasionally having sex. If we could have been friends with benefits, I'd have been all for that, but she wanted more and I played along. I didn't want to stop seeing her entirely, I didn't want to give up the sex, and I especially didn't want to break her heart. So even though I liked having my apartment as my sanctuary, I finally gave her a key, and she was using it. I knew for sure it was her when I heard her softly call out, "Hello? Michael?"

I was actually feeling pretty horny, even though for some reason I wasn't hard. I felt that sort of tingling warmth down below. "Yeah," I called. Something was wrong with my voice. It was a bit too high-pitched. Deliberately trying to speak in a lower register, I said, "In here." That sounded even worse, like I was putting on a completely fake voice.

"Wake up, sleepy head." I swung my legs over the side of the bed, once again feeling a slight disconnect as I was distracted by two things. My legs were wrong. I didn't know how, at that point, because my attention was grabbed by the other thing. I'd somehow kicked off my underwear sometime during the night. I was wearing just a long t-shirt, which was very loose on me. Had I lost weight?

Sharon's voice came closer. "I know we were going to meet later, but I thought I'd surprise you, maybe cook you a nice breakfast." That was when she crossed into the room and stared at me, face twisted into a scowl. "What the fuck?"

"What?"

"What the... heck's going on here?"

I looked behind me to be sure there was nobody sleeping beside me. "I'm sorry, I'm just waking up," I said simply. How late was it? "I guess I had a bit of a rough night." I smiled.

"And where did Michael sleep?"

That was an odd question. "Uh, right here, where else?" I looked down at my legs again. Now I realized one of the things that were odd about them. My feet didn't quite reach the floor. They should have, from where I was sitting. I raised one foot to look at it. It definitely seemed smaller.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Sharon said, and left the room. "Where is he?"

"Who?"

"Michael."

"Here." Or was he? Something was wrong with my body. Sharon stalked around, like an enraged giant, looking in my closet and then leaving the room, shouting out my name, as though she didn't recognize me right in front of her.

I hopped off the bed and darted for the bathroom. There, I missed the light switch on my first try, because it was much higher than I was used to, or, to be more accurate, I was much shorter. When the lights came on, I looked in the mirror. Staring back at me was a cute little blonde girl. Wide blue eyes, a tiny nose, and a mouth hung open in shock.

I raised a hand. So did she. I stuck out my tongue. She matched the look. She was wearing one of my t-shirts. Somehow, impossibly, the girl in the mirror was me, or who I became. She must have been eleven, maybe twelve years old, blonde hair down to her back. I normally had short hair and it was dark brown.

"Stop hiding, you fucking pedo," Sharon shouted in the distance... or at least it felt like the distance. When you're really out of it, sometimes everything else going on feels like it's happening far away. You're aware of it, but only barely. "I caught you in the act."

I decided I must not have woken up, I was still dreaming. It made sense. It certainly had many of the elements of a dream. Body parts being the wrong size and shape, colors being a bit too vivid, all of those happened in dreams regularly. On the other hand it felt too continuous and consistent, everything in the room was how I remembered it. Then again, if it was a dream, I might just be dreaming remembering it all. The mere fact that I could look in a mirror and see a little girl had to prove it was a dream, didn't it?

I saw down on the toilet, looking at my legs, slender, hairless, very little visible muscle or fat. Cute little toes, perfectly trim toenails.

I had to look. I didn't consider myself a pedophile, but it was a dream, and it was my body, so I pulled up my shirt over my bellybutton. Still no hair anywhere, not even above the little slit, set in a prominent mound that looked a little puffy. As though possessed, one of my hands slid down, spreading apart the lips. A soft, delightful shade of pink could be seen inside, although only a little from my position.

I was getting turned on. If the sight of such a cute pussy didn't do it, the feelings provoked by the touch of my own fingers did. I began to stroke the slit slowly, scarcely able to believe the sensations. It felt a little like my normal masturbation, but one finger was able to give me more excitement than my whole hand, and there was an anticipation, like my whole body was waiting, holding its breath for the moment of penetration.

If just the thought of penetrating with my finger put butterflies in my stomach, what would it actually feel like? I dipped inside, just a little, let my labia close over the fingertip. It felt better, but I wanted more, to ramp up the growing sensations. If a finger felt this good, what about a dick? The thought scared me a little, mostly by how much I wanted it, and I withdrew my finger, instead I went back to stroking the edges, and instantly I wanted to fill the hole again. Was this how girls felt all the time? No, of course not, it was only some stunningly erotic dream.

Or was it?

I grabbed the bottle of shaving gel, for two reasons. One, because I thought it might fit inside my new pussy, with a little work, and another, to try reading it. Whenever I read things in a dream, they didn't make any sense, the words got all jumbled. Not this time... it all made sense. It looked just like instructions for how to apply the gel and lather up. The ingredients list actually read like real chemicals.

"I can't find him, bastard must have ducked out through the fire escape, didn't he?" Sharon entered the room, then, unable to find me, turned to the bathroom, where she saw a little girl with one finger playing in her slit and her other hand holding a phallic looking bottle of gel, looking at it as though judging the size. "Oh my god." She covered her eyes. "Cut that out."

Now more worried than I'd imagined, I stopped touching myself, although not without a little reluctance. My face flushed with warmth, I was certain that I was blushing bright red. Luckily my shirt dropped down over my legs again.

"What's your name?"

I wanted to tell the truth. "I'm actually Michael, your boyfriend, I don't know what happened, I just woke like this." I didn't know why, but I couldn't, the words wouldn't come out, it was like I just wanted to turn invisible, run away rather than stand up for myself. I later learned that this is normal for us. It's not impossible to tell somebody, but our every instinct is against it, and unless you've practiced, it's hard to do. I'd certainly never practiced this conversation. So I just shrugged, it was the only movement my body seemed to allow. I don't know for sure if I should have told her if I could. It was just too ridiculous to be believed.

"Look, I'm calling the police, they'll know what to do." She grabbed her cell phone and made the call, dialing 911 even though this stretched the definition of 'emergency'.

I followed her as she paced out of the bathroom, thinking quickly. I had no idea what had happened to me, but if this was real, and the police came, there were three possible results I could think of. Either I convinced them that I somehow turned into a little girl overnight, in which case I become a media sensation or private lab rat, possibly depending on whether this kind of thing has ever happened before, or I failed, and I'd probably go to some kind of mental hospital, or I kept my mouth shut. I'd be put in foster care, then. In every situation, I'd lose any control over the rest of my life.

When the front door came into view, I made an impulsive decision. I broke into a sprint, running as fast as my little legs could carry me, swung the door open and darted through. Sharon screamed, "Wait, don't go!" I didn't listen. I ran down the hall until I found the stairwell. I didn't know if she was following me, and finding out would only slow me down. I went down just one level, then entered the hallway. I hadn't heard her enter the stairwell, so I could take my time a little now, but I still wasn't out of the woods. I jogged through the hall down to the other side of the building where there was another stairwell. If the police got involved they might canvass the whole building looking for me, but I had a little breathing room.

So I sat on the step, only a thin t-shirt between my ass and the cold floor, and tried to decide what to do about my new situation. I wished I still had the comfort of believing it was a dream, but I'd mostly abandoned that notion... it was too real, too seamless. I'd transformed from a fully-grown man, into a little girl, in my sleep. How was that even possible? I couldn't begin to guess about whether I'd ever change back. For all I knew, some little girl elsewhere in the world woke up in my body. I hoped she was having more fun than I was.

It soon became obvious that no answer was going to magically appear. It didn't seem like I was going to suddenly turn back, and believe me, I tried. I wished, I prayed, I visualized my body expanding and growing a penis. When all that failed, I was left once again with no idea what to do. I began to cry. First a sniffle, then full on tears streaming down my cheeks. It was the first time I cried since I was twelve, but then, I was around twelve again. I had good reason to cry. I was stuck in a little girl's body, police surely on their way to my home, my girlfriend thought I was a pedophile, and I was all alone in a dim stairwell, with nothing to my name except literally the shirt on my back.

What's worse, I had to pee. I had felt the urge a little since I'd first woken, a light pressure in my abdomen, but it was getting worse. I should have taken care of it instead of exploring myself. Oddly, though, it was that growing biological urge that kicked me out of my tearfest. I wiped my eyes on the shoulder sleeves of my shirt, and stood up. Either I would have to urinate in the stairwell, or I'd have to find somewhere else to do it, and I would prefer a toilet.

There was no public washroom in my building but I supposed that I could knock on a door and pretend to be a lost girl. There were a lot of elderly people living here who were home during the day and would probably not notice that I was naked under the T-shirt.

At least it seemed like a viable plan, which put it a step up above everything else I'd thought of doing. I took a deep breath and got to my feet to focus on the next question: where? I was near the fourth floor landing. Fifth floor was out of the question, in case Sharon saw me, and I didn't want to wander around the fourth in case Sharon somehow knew where I exited the first stairwell. I might run into cops on the first floor, so that left me with either the second or third floor. At first I was going to choose the third floor, because it was closer, and there wasn't any other difference between the two. Except, there was, I suddenly realized. I knew somebody on the second floor.

I met Colin a couple months ago in the building's laundry room. When I went in to put a load in, he was waiting for the dryer to finish up. I noticed he was reading a Stephen King book, and commented on it, because it was a good book. We got to talking, and we liked a lot of the same things, so we'd hung out a couple times, grabbed some drinks at a bar or shared a pizza at one of our apartments.

I didn't have many close friends, I guess I was a little bit of an introvert. Most of the people I associated with was through Sharon, another reason I was reluctant to break up with her even though she wasn't The One. I had a few friends of my own but most of them now lived pretty far away, and I was pleased to be developing a local friendship of my own, the kind of person that I could just call up and do something with without preparation.

I didn't yet know Colin well enough to know if he would be home, but I knew he was unemployed and looking for a job, so my odds were good. It was better than nothing. If I could talk to him, I was sure I could convince him who I was. Even if that failed, I'd get to pee.

Soon after making my decision, I found myself knocking at his door, my legs crossed and thighs squeezing together tightly. It really wasn't an act, the need was getting to be pretty intense, and I was relieved when I heard somebody moving around inside. If I had to wait much longer, I'd go on the hallway carpet.

The deadbolt opened first, with a click, and then the door swung open, but only a crack. It wasn't Colin looking down at me. It was his roommate, Rick. He was taller, rounder, less groomed than Colin, who wasn't exactly a metrosexual himself. Colin at least shaved regularly. Every time I'd seen Rick, it was like he had about a day and a half of beard growth, like he couldn't be bothered to either grow a full on beard, or shave more than once every few days. Today was no exception. I didn't know Rick very well, he came out for one of our shared pizzas, and we played a few games online, the three of us, but that was about the extent of our interactions. He seemed okay but I hadn't entirely warmed to him. Looking out of his door, Rick's eyes darted first to my new body, then down both directions of the hallway.

"Can I please use your bathroom?" I begged. "I got locked out of my place."

"Oh," he said, seemingly flustered a moment, but then he opened the door wider and stepped out of the way. "All right."

Inside, the place seemed pretty much like it did the last time I saw it, a little dingy, cluttered, in need of a woman's touch, but I didn't really care. The smell of the air, a little like acrid sweat, was stronger than I remembered, but all in all it was a relief to be on familiar ground. The halls and stairwells are too generic to be comforting, but in this place it was almost possible to forget what happened.

At least, until I got into the bathroom. I ran there as soon as he let me by, like I owned the place, but after I'd closed the door I was about to pee like a man. Flipping up my shirt and grabbing hold of myself wasn't all that was necessary this time, especially with nothing to grab hold of. It took me a second or two before I realized how my new body worked. I put down the seat, quickly wiped it with some wet toilet paper just for peace of mind, and then sat. For a second I was worried that I wouldn't know how to pee as a girl, no matter how much I wanted to, but the instincts were roughly the same.

There wasn't the force of my previous urination, but it still came out in a warm rush, not a trickle but a torrent that felt like it would be difficult to stop until I was done, not that I wanted to try.

It was such a relief, the swiftly decreasing pressure as I emptied my bladder of what seemed like far too much liquid to fit inside my new body. Almost like an orgasm, in its way, the release of so much tension and anxiety all at once... but anybody who tells you it's as good as sex is a liar, at least in my own experience as a girl... but then, that might not be typical.

Finally it was over, and I was left with a new problem. I didn't know how girls took care of their business after they took care of their business. There wasn't exactly anything to shake, and the little tight-mouthed vertical smile between my legs didn't seem dirty or anything, but, just to be safe, I took a square of toilet paper and patted myself dry there. Contact with the pussy still provoked a shudder of pleasure, and I had a feeling that if I stayed there I wouldn't be able to resist masturbating, so I flushed, made sure the t-shirt covered myself, and washed my hands.

When I emerged, Rick was there, a few steps away from the bathroom door, like he was waiting, maybe even listening. "Thanks," I said. But what now. "Um, do you mind if I hang out here a bit? Like I said, I'm locked out of my place."

"Oh, um, sure. Do you need my phone or anything? To call your mother?"

If I was who I pretended to be that would certainly be the next step. I did want a phone, but I still had to figure out who I was going to call. Luckily, remembering numbers wasn't a problem... I've always been pretty good at memorizing those, to the point that I always found it a little odd that others had trouble. Then again, forgetting sometimes served as a good excuse... one that could afflict a kid just as well as an adult. "Yeah, the problem is I left my cell phone in my apartment," I said. That part was the truth, even if the rest wasn't. "And her number's in there, I don't have it memorized." I quickly added, "But I'm sure somebody will be home soon." In the meantime, I could try and figure out exactly who to call about my problem.

"Sure," he said with a little smile. "Just make yourself at home, you can watch TV if you like." He waved towards the living room couch, and then disappeared into his room. I sat, thinking carefully about what to do with my legs. I was going to have to get some kind of clothes soon. As it was, any inadvertent movement could expose me. I tried various positions, including sitting on my legs with my shirt pinned between my ankles and my ass, but was worried that my feet might hurt after too long. So finally decided that I'd just sit normally, feet on the floor, back of the shirt tucked underneath me. As long as I remembered to keep my knees close together, the shirt would still cover my modesty.

A few minutes later, Rick returned. He sat on the couch beside me. There was something new in the air, a scent... not an especially pleasant one, either. Overpowering, almost oily. The main problem was the strength, if it was softer, milder, it might have even been enjoyable. "So, what's your name?"

Mike, but that didn't seem appropriate. I did the obvious thing, feminized it. "Michaela."

"And how old are you, Michaela?" he asked.

"Twelve," I replied automatically. There was no good answer to that question, but twelve was about how I decided that I looked.

"Shouldn't you be in school?"

"Shouldn't you be at work?"

He laughed, a short nervous one. "Touché. I won't tell if you won't." He shifted slightly closer to me, and I realized what the smell was. Cologne. Probably Axe or something like it. I felt like laughing. Did he actually think something was going to happen?

Apparently so. His next question was, "So, do you have a boyfriend?"

"No," I said coldly. "I think I'm a little too young for that."

"Oh, I don't know," he said and suddenly his hand landed on my knee, like it was some kind of casual, friendly gesture. His hands were rough, but very warm, or maybe my knees were cold and I'd just gotten used to it. I sucked in a little bit of breath as he continued. "Lots of girls your age have boyfriends."

"Well, I don't." I shuffled my body away from him, towards the edge of the couch, near the arm.

That was a mistake, for he must have been looking at my legs. He tilted his head, curiosity piqued. "What are you wearing under that shirt?"

"Nothing," I admitted. "I didn't really expect this to happen."

His hand returned to my knee, then slid quickly above it. Once it stopped on my thigh he pulled back, spreading my legs and making my pussy visible. I didn't know how to react, it was so surreal. My first day as a girl and already I'm getting molested. "Let me see," he said, but he already saw, and more, he moved right on to touching without even asking.

I'd always expected a girl would feel outraged, even terrified at something like this happening, and probably most do, but the only fear I felt was at myself, how much I wanted it to continue. When his hand closed over my little mound it was like an electrical connection had been made and I started getting aroused and tingly, especially down there. Hot, too, and starting to get moist inside. "Wow, that's really nice," he said softly. "You've got a really nice pussy here, Michaela."

"We shouldn't do this," I said. Even though I wanted to, even though I was practically squirming against his hand.

"Shh," he said, and slipped one finger between my labia, and inside, not deep at all, barely more than the tip, much like I did myself not long before, but was much, much better. How do I describe that, the penetration? It's like there was a missing piece to my body, and he'd just put it in. No, that's not quite right... it felt like he put something that was almost right in there. Not quite, enough for me to feel complete, but enough that I noticed the missing bit and but was happy with something, something, anything to fill the gap. I instinctively squeezed on his fingertip, trying to make the hole fit around the intrusion. "You like that, don't you?"

I couldn't help myself, I made a sound, like an "Uh-huh," and that encouraged him. Rick slid another fingertip. When he inserted the first, it didn't hurt, but it was a little rough. It barged in. By the time the second finger approached, I was well lubricated, it slid inside on my own wetness. And two felt so much better than one, even though neither went in very deep at all, like he was taking his time so he didn't want to spook me. I inhaled sharply and then exhaled deeply, trying to control the pleasure. I feared if I didn't, I might become a slave to it. I already wanted him to stop teasing and thrust his fingers all the way in. Instead, he rubbed around the hole, and then came out entirely to rub up and down the slit.

"Wow, you're getting pretty wet," he said. "This is one of the best pussies I've ever touched. You really should be proud of it." What he said wasn't really important, though. At that point he could have been reciting the Gettysburg Address and I would have been just mentally begging him to skip the four score and just give me seven inches. My eyes fell on the crotch of his sweatpants, visibly tented. He caught me at it, and met my eye. I blushed and looked away. "You want to see?" he said. "It's only fair."

He let go of me for a second, and then pulled the front of his pants down. There, standing proudly though not especially tally, was his cock. It was uncut, maybe four inches, but to my new eyes it looked enormous, and it was wider than average. There was plenty of pubic hair around it, and the head glistened with moisture. I stared openly.

It shouldn't have been so fascinating to me. Up until yesterday, I had a cock of my own. They held no mystery. I hadn't even had any experimental gay experiences growing up. Yet there I was staring at it like a slut. Whatever had turned me into a girl, had changed my sexuality as well.

"Go on, you must know what you do now, right?" Rick asked. "Every twelve-year old knows how to give a blowjob. At least, every cool one does. You're cool, right?" It was ridiculous, amateurish. I hoped it wouldn't work on an actual girl, but for some reason it was working on me. Maybe it was because we have the sexual knowledge and appetites of an adult transplanted into the body of a little girl, or maybe we're made sluts at heart, as some people think. As crazy as it was, I wanted to try it.

Despite my worries that I was losing myself, treading down a path better left unexplored, I leaned forward and opened my mouth. My tongue touched first, encountering a salty, slimy taste. I didn't want to linger on it, but instead try to imitate the girls on porn movies, and get as much of it into my mouth as I could. My mouth wasn't very big. I couldn't get more than halfway down before I began to fear I might throw up. I wasn't all that happy with the increasingly powerful chemical aroma... he must have sprayed the body spray directly on his crotch and that was triggering my gag reflex as much as the hard rod threatening to hit the back of my throat. Startlingly, other than that, the cock in my mouth didn't disgust me, it felt a little weird, a little warm, but filling. I liked the way my lips slid over the head. My main problem was my tongue, it felt pinned to the base of my mouth. I wanted to move it, like some girls had done for me when I had a dick, but the best I could manage is a bit of a wiggle.

That seemed to be enough for Rick. "That's it," he said, and then, as I began to pull back, I felt his hand on the back of my head, pushing me forward again. "You're a natural. Keep going." I didn't have much choice, the pressure he was exerting was gentle, but increased the closer I got to pulling off. He must have been afraid I'd back out. That wasn't the only reason I kept it up, I found it inexplicably arousing. I always assumed oral sex was something girls did because they were taught guys liked it, rather than because they wanted to, but if I was any indication, that was a lie. Between my legs a fire was growing, and just thinking about what I was doing fanned the flames. I shifted on my knees as much as I could with Rick's hand on my head, and managed to get into a comfortable position where I could slip one hand between my legs. "Yeah, you like it, don't you?" I did, as mysterious as that was even to me, and I couldn't resist letting a sound out that betrayed that.

A minute later, the hand stopped forcing me down. I didn't stop, not until he pushed me backwards with one hand. "Okay," he said. "That's enough. I want to take a look at your hot body."

I looked down at the t-shirt still covering myself. I was curious, too. I reached down and pulled it up over my head in one smooth move, and then looked down. "I have no boobs," I said, a little disappointed. I was being hard on myself, there were the faintest little bumps, but they didn't have much heft to them. For all I knew, that's what little girl pecks always looked like from their own perspective. The nipples were very light in color and seemed almost oval rather than circles. In the center was a nipple, a little darker than flesh, and, at the moment, standing up from the skin like an oversized goose-bump.

Rick ran a hand over my chest, squeezing. There may not have been much there, but they had some give to them, and when he squeezed, I felt it like never before. "That's okay," he said. "They're just the right size if you ask me."

He pinched my nipples, both of them at once, and it hurt a little, but overpowering the hurt was a little rush of pleasure, and another pulse of warmth stoked the fire in my loins.

"Yeah, they're beautiful. You're beautiful. Hey, why don't you get up on your hands and knees for me, show off that cute ass." As he spoke he guided me into the position he wanted, and I don't know if I could have resisted, but I know that I didn't, I just wanted him to keep touching me. I felt his palm on my ass, and he gave it a squeeze, then I heard him shifting behind me and felt the mass of him get close. His slightly overweight belly was in contact with my ass, and I could feel something hard and warm sliding up against that realm of pleasure I was beginning to associate with my slit.

There was an instant of panic, and I turned back to look... my fears were confirmed, it looked like he was just about to fuck me. It looked like he was fucking me, to be honest, but I knew that wasn't quite the case, he wasn't inside me. "No," I said, but weakly. I didn't want it, it was humiliating, but somehow my body wanted it.

"Shhh," he said again. "It's okay, you're so hot, I can't resist." He pulled back a little, positioned his hard cock right at the hole, prying the lips apart with his head, and then slammed in. I groaned with the impact, and this time, with pain. It felt like something deep inside me had pinched and then tore away. "It's okay," he said. "I didn't think you'd be a virgin, a girl like you. It won't hurt for long."

Most of the pain was already gone, replaced with a dull throb, a little exacerbated by his thrusting, which never really let up... but after about ten thrusts or so, the pain, although still there, became background, and it started to feel really, really good, that feeling of completeness I'd craved, combined with pleasure. Like I felt when I was a man, masturbating to something really hot. My first day as a girl and I'd already lost my virginity and was moaning as someone who was practically a stranger fucked me from behind. "I'm a slut," I said breathlessly.

"Yeah, you are," Rick said. "You're a dirty, dirty slut. Be a hot little slut for me. Come on, push back."

And I did, discovering not only did it feel good to have something inside me, it felt good to push back, to feel my ass slamming up against an unyielding presence. In addition to the thrusting and penetration, there was a regular slapping that felt good, his balls against the bottom of my pussy.

He slowed for a second, and I found I couldn't bear it, it was getting so good and I wanted to see how far that could go. "Keep going," I said. "Faster." The pain was now a dim memory.

To my relief, he picked up speed again. "You like my cock? You like it slut?"

"Uh-huh," I said. "I need it."

I closed my eyes and surrendered to the pleasure, heard a faint jingling and some squeaks, followed by a "Oh, what the fuck..." It wasn't Rick's voice.

I opened my eyes and saw Colin there, at the door. Rick had stopped thrusting, and, not caring that we were watched, I rammed my ass back against him.

"Oh, hey," Rick said, resuming his activity, slower, but still without apparent shame that he was fucking a preteen in front of his roommate. I looked back at him and there, in his face, he did seem a little ashamed, but only a little, like he'd been caught watching a soap opera, but, now that it was all out in the open, he might as well get back to it.

Colin turned his head back and forth, clearly frustrated. Finally, he spoke. At first it was just one word. "Fuck." Actually, it was more like "Fuuuuuuuuuck." Not angry, but like he realized he was in for a lot of trouble. Colin had a deep voice, deeper than you would have guessed by looking at him, when I first met him I thought maybe he was trying to make up for looking a little scrawny and baby-faced by affecting the voice of a much larger man. When I thought about it, Rick probably deserved Colin's voice, and vice versa. For all I know, they touched some magic idol at the same time and swapped voices... it really wasn't any less plausible than what had happened to me that day. "Seriously, man? How old is she, like twelve?"

"Yeah, and I'm telling you, she's a little slut. Look at her." I couldn't see myself, until I spotted the television, where I could see a dim reflection of a girl, her hair wild, her mouth hanging open a little, getting fucked by a guy more than twice her apparent age. That was me, now. I wondered if someone could ever come back from that.

Rick leaned over, reached out, and grabbed me by the chin with one meaty hand and turned my head as far as it would go back towards him. "Hey, baby. You are awesome. What do you say, you wanna help out my buddy here? He hasn't had any action for months."

"Uh-huh," I said in between two breaths. "Okay." And the thing of it was, I wasn't just okay with it, I wanted to. The only thing hotter than the thought of one man using my body to vent his sexual lusts was two men doing it... maybe more. I'd always wondered how girls who were in gangbangs felt, since it seemed so degrading, but I didn't feel degraded, I felt powerful, useful, like I'd found my purpose... but mostly just incredibly turned on.

Colin wasn't as obviously eager as I was, he stood watching as Rick continued to fuck me, for half a minute, but eventually he muttered, "Fuck it," and stepped forward, fumbling with his belt. The pants came down and the cock came up, and my mouth widened. It was significantly bigger than Rick's, both in girth but especially length. Maybe they swapped cocks as well as voices. It could happen. I'd have guessed Colin had comfortably eight or nine inches, but my sense of scale was still out of whack from my recent size shift.

Once Colin made his decision and exposed his prick, it approached my mouth with a pace that didn't give me much time to do anything but open my mouth as wide as it would go. His hands curled in my hair to direct me and I did the only thing I could in that situation, I sucked, tightening my lips around it and using my tongue to try and slather as much of it with saliva as I could. That mostly meant the underside, my mouth was again too full for my tongue to have room to maneuver much. Colin was a little sweaty, but at least he didn't have the Axe undercurrent, and that made the taste almost a joy by comparison.

The sight of me going to town on his friend seemed to inspire Rick to keep up the pace, and that delicious force thrusting inside me increased in speed and ferocity, and his fingertips dug into my tiny ass, squeezing it tightly.

"Oh, Jesus," Colin gasped, and pulled out just for a second, long enough for me to take a breath and sputter out an inarticulate grunt as Rick pushed in once more. Then the cock returned and I started to become completely overwhelmed by the pleasure. The heat between my legs was starting to boil over, and my pussy seemed to sprout whole new muscles that took over my whole awareness, even though they did nothing but clench and release, clench and release, so rapidly I couldn't count.

I felt tears well up in my eyes, but not of pain or fear, but just as though water had to leak out of me somewhere.

It was an orgasm, my first as a girl, and let me tell you, there was one big difference. As a man, cumming is phenomenal, but once it's over, often even while you're still squirting, the pleasure fades and, not just that, it's like you go through a sudden personality shift, things you cared intently about only seconds ago are barely interesting. Before a cum, the sight of porn or my naked girlfriend is almost too entrancing to tear myself away from, but immediately after, even going to sleep is more interesting.

This time, though, I had that climax, that moment where my mind and entire body just exploded with pleasure and nothing else in the universe mattered, and then, that pleasure ebbed away... but only to a point. I still wanted more. Unfortunately, I noticed that Rick's dick left me. He'd cum sometime while I was blissing out. I was now full of cum. I marveled at it, wondered if I could get pregnant.

Rick patted my ass a few times and said, "Man, that was awesome. Colin, you've got to try this girl's cunt, it's tight as hell."

"Yeah, I might as well," Colin said, withdrawing his dick from my lips. A long string of drool followed it out, falling between us like a parabola. "Can't get much more in trouble, right?"

He took me by the shoulders and pushed me towards one armrest of the couch, forcing me onto my back. My legs spread automatically, and I watched in fascination as his cock approached my pussy. Rick's felt like it had filled me, and this seemed twice as long. But I was still so hot in there, and wanted something inside me again.

He pushed my legs so far apart that my knees touched opposite sides of the couch, and then lowered himself onto, into me. I thought I was stuffed before, but it was nothing compared to this, his swollen member felt like it was stretching out the membranes of my hole to their limits, and when he thrust all the way inside me, it reached parts of me I didn't know I had. I couldn't even feel the whole thing, not directly, but I could feel how full it made me, how complete.

More than that, there was an intensity to it, him on top of me, his weight bearing down on me, making it hard for me to move, and escape was impossible even if I'd wanted to. Colin's face just inches next to mine, grunting in passion, and somehow that turned me on even more. It was crazy that somebody was reacting that way to me, and crazier still that it made me feel so wanted.

The combination of the intense physical sensations and how fucked up yet frankly hot the whole situation was began to push me into another climax. I moaned in my soft little girl voice as it washed over me, and for a while after floated in contentment. Colin continued to pound, but it was while I was floating that he stiffened up, pushed one last time, and came. This time, I could swear I felt the pulse of his cock inside me as he ejected his seed, four times inside of me... maybe it was more than four, I know when I had a cock there were around twenty jolts of rapidly decreasing power to every orgasm, but after four I couldn't feel him squirting inside of me.

With a grunt, he pushed off the couch and pulled away from me, his dick shrinking rapidly. I didn't move, just lay there, my arousal at a plateau but not shrinking, like I could have another orgasm if only somebody would fuck me again.

"What did I tell you?" Rick said.

"I need to talk to you," Colin said urgently, then to me, with a little smile. "I just need to have a few words with my friend here, you'll be okay, right?"

I nodded and let them go off and rubbed my hand over my pussy. It was a little tender, and although my fingers didn't quite provoke pain, the pleasure in it was subdued, and pretty soon I stopped. I was no longer outrageously horny. I had the feeling I could have gone longer if I was still getting fucked, but my own fingers didn't quite thrill me.

After I came down from the high, and got over the novelty of cum leaking out of my pussy, I began to wonder what was going on with the two men who'd just filled it. So I got off the couch and crept towards the bedroom they'd retreated towards.

"Girls her age can't keep a secret! Especially virgins!" Colin was whispering furiously. "You never should have touched her!"

"It wasn't just me, man..."

"Yeah, but once I saw what you were doing, I was fucked anyway, unless I turned you in, I was already an accessory. Shit, I can't go back to jail."

"Look you saw how much she liked it. I really don't think she's going to tell anybody."

"But you don't know that!"

There was a long, thoughtful pause. "Nobody even knows she's here. We can take her out, through the side door, where there are no cameras, get the van there, chances are nobody will see. We can have a little more fun with her, then do her like that runaway in LA."

My little heart began to beat rapidly, more than it had when I was having sex. I was acutely aware of how vulnerable I was. Not just physically, either. Yes, in my new body, either of those two guys could probably restrain me without much trouble, and the two of them together would make it impossible to get away... but what's more, if they did want to do something, who would be looking for me? A few days from now people might look for Michael, but who else even knew Michaela existed?

While the thought of being kept prisoner and becoming a sex slave for these two guys appealed to some dark part of my brain that I can only hope were part of the changes that included a girl's body and an attraction to men, the thought of them murdering me to keep me from talking held no attraction whatsoever. I knew I had to get away again, and do it fast.

I found my t-shirt, put it on, then took a quick look for anything else I could wear. There was nothing in immediate view. What I wouldn't give to duck into one of their rooms and steal some boxers, or even something as simple as a pair of socks, but I couldn't risk it.

I made it to the door before I heard a, "Hey," from behind me. I got one look at Colin staring, wide-eyed, then pulled the door open just enough to escape through it.

I ran down the hall as fast as my tiny feet could carry me, hoping they wouldn't choose follow me out where they might be observed and I might make a fuss, but not willing to risk even a look back if it would slow me down. I didn't even know where I was running, once again I was just running away. I felt a little more comfortable when I reached the stairwell, and more still when I ran up the stairs, back towards, though not on, my old floor. I stayed very still, ready to bolt if I heard the door opened, but after a few minutes of breathless waiting, it didn't seem like they were following, and I relaxed and once again tried to think about what to do.

I realized I was back where I was a half hour ago, only with no urge to pee, two loads of cum in my pussy, and feet that were getting colder the longer I stayed in the stairwell. And now zero clue of where to go next.

With no better options, I went back to my floor and stepped out into the hallway in the hopes of seeing what was going on. I was on the stairwell farthest from my door, and I kept very quiet, creeping down the hall... at least until realized I could hear distant voices, on the floor but probably around a corner or two. I couldn't make out what they were saying, but they were male. I couldn't remember if I'd told Rick I lived on the fifth floor and wondered if they decided to beat me 'home', or if it was the cops, or maybe just a neighbor having a conversation with an open door.

I had some quick decisions to make, though. If it was the police, I could go with them. I could try to go to another neighbor, but now I realized that would almost certainly lead to the police or another molestation. My shirt had cumspots down at the bottom and I probably smelled like sex. Maybe I could convince them of the truth about what had happened to me.

Neither choice was attractive, but my only other idea was to try and make it out of the building. To do that, I'd need clothes. Maybe I could find a neighbor with kids, borrow some clothes, then sneak out the fire escape? That seemed to be a decent plan, except I didn't know who had kids and who didn't in my building. If I knocked on doors, with my luck today, I'd run into another secret childkiller like Colin. Who would have guessed? Well, he was reading a Stephen King novel when I met him in the laundry room... maybe it wasn't so much that he was in to supernatural horror, but because murder turned him on.

A good idea struck then, as I remembered again where we met. The laundry room. Maybe somebody was doing a load and had left it unattended... hell, sometimes there were even piles of clothes on the 'free to take' table. It was a longshot, but better than any idea I'd had so far.

I met Maria in the hallway leading there, in sight of the laundry room door. A kid, like me, although not exactly, even in that first look I could tell she outclassed me. I was cute, she was beautiful, like a girl who was destined to grow up to be a model. Her face already had that look, features a little sharper, more angular, with higher cheekbones, and green eyes slightly more almond-shaped than my own. It was like her face was built to be a little emotionally distant, even regal. She was a brunette, the hair almost but not quite black, and done up in a braid. I would have guessed she was about twelve, mostly based on the height and lack of a defined figure... she was petite like me, although a little taller, and certainly better dressed. She wore a school uniform, white top, dark skirt, and white leggings, and had a pink backpack slung over one shoulder.

The girl could have been a kid who lived in the building, except for those eyes, they were wary, searching, alert, and they fixed right on me, appraising me in an instant. "May have the new Anne," she said, and I stared at her, confused, because it looked like she was talking to me but I had no idea what she meant.

She skipped forward, taking me by the hand, and said, "Come on, we have to get out of here." She pulled me back towards the stairwell door.

"I need to go to the laundry room," I protested weakly. It was my only plan and she was taking me away from it... then again, if she lived in the building, maybe it would be good to play along.

"Nothing in there except a pair of holey socks," she said. As my feet once again left the carpeted hall and made contact with the cold concrete floor of the stairwell, I thought that I'd take what I could get, but then she raised my hopes with, "I've got you covered, don't worry. What's your name?"

"Michaela," I said with a little bit of a stutter.

She nodded. "But last night you were Michael, right?" I stared at her, hard to believe it was true. Part of me had started to wonder if I ever was Michael... maybe I was just a crazy little girl, maybe with Multiple Personality Disorder. "I did the same thing," she continued. "My first time, I just went with the first name that I could think of. Maria, born to be Mario."

By the time I was able to get my mouth working, we were already halfway up the first staircase. "It happened to you, too?" I asked. How many other people had it happened to? And how did she know to find me?

"Yeah. There'll be time for explanations later. Right now, I'm not even sure if you're really who I'm after. This is your first time, though, right? You've never transformed like this before?"

If that was even a question, that had to mean this was reversible. I'd all but given up hope. "Yeah."

"Too bad, this would be easier if you were just in hiding. Okay, I'm going to tell you two things to set your mind at ease. One, you will be back to being Michael. Two, you're very lucky. You were found by the good guys." We passed by a door to the second floor. "Now come on, the faster we get to the roof, the better."

The roof? What, were we catching a helicopter or something? Still, after a difficult morning of not having any idea where to go next, I was ready to follow somebody who was ready to lead me. Although I was lining up my questions, I didn't ask any of them, hoping she'd just start explaining on her own, and by the time I realized she wasn't going to, I was getting a little out of breath from climbing so many stories at the pace Maria was setting. When we reached the top of the stairs, I put my hands on my knees and had to suck in breath.

Maria didn't seem bothered. She shrugged off her backpack, unzipped it, and pulled out a neatly folded bundle of clothes and dropped them on the floor. "I had to guess at your size. Get dressed." While I picked up the shirt, she tried the door and then nodded as she found it locked, as though it was expected. She retrieved something from a side pocket of her backpack and began methodically picking the lock, like an expert.

I dressed quickly, relieved to finally have socks, even if they were pink, and then after that, to have underwear, and a t-shirt that was sized almost right for me. It was red, and had "Future Celebrity" written on it in white... not something I'd choose to wear normally, but right then, I had no complaints. I practically squealed when I realized that wrapped up inside the jeans there were running shoes. Maria had guessed well on the sizes, erring just a little on the side of 'too big'. Everything fit, if not perfectly, than at least without any danger of falling off of me.

By the time I was done, Maria had the door open, and we were out on the roof. I squinted against the sun and heard her say, "We're on the roof. I might have been handed a decoy, so ideally I'm still going to need a secondary team to secure and keep searching the building."

"Who are you talking to?" I asked.

"My people," she said simply. She went back to her backpack, and this time pulled out what looked like some kind of little makeup kit. When she pressed a button and it opened, however, I could see that it was actually a pair of mini-binoculars. She leaned over the edge of the rooftop and scanned the street below. "There's a team inside already, and I think I just saw one of their watchers by the entrance." Suddenly, she drew back. "Fuck, I think he spotted me." She looked at me. "Okay, we need a new plan. They're going to have the main exits guarded, that's basic. We could drop down to a fire escape, but chances are their man outside will be watching for that. It's just you and I, and they've got adults. And if they did see me, in a few minutes, their advance team will be here." She raised one leg on the ledge, and pulled up her skirt. It turned out that what I initially thought were leggings were actually long stockings, which ended just above where the line of her skirt would normally be. Strapped to her milky-white upper thigh was an incongruous holster with an even more out-of-place gun. She freed it and flipped the safety. "And if that happens, then I'll need this, and I don't want to need this. So, any ideas?"

"Who? Who's coming?"

"The bad guys. They want you in their power. I'm here to try to stop that. So, what do you think? Any way we can get out of here?"

"I don't know!" I shouted, feeling on the verge of tears. This was all too much for me.

"Okay, calm down, I think I see a way." She pointed. "That building's pretty close. If we can cross over without them seeing us, we're safe. Even if they do see us, it buys us time, they won't be able to cover the exits as easily.

"And how are we going to cross over? A zipline?"

"No... the gap between the fire-escapes... it's not much, we can probably jump it."

I walked to the edge and looked over. A queasy feeling overcame me. I'd never been afraid of heights before, but they suddenly seemed a lot bigger, and the gap between fire escapes didn't seem jumpable. Worse, to even get down to the fire escape, you'd have to crawl over the edge and jump down a scary distance. "I don't know about this..." I said. Whoever these people after us were, they couldn't be that bad, could they? "I thought you said they'd be watching the fire escapes..."

"They probably will be, but if they've got enough people to watch all of them at once, we're fucked anyway... they've probably just got one guy circling the building as a lookout. With a little luck, we can cross over while he's on the other side." She pursed her lips as though doubting her own plan, but then insisted, "It'll be fine. It's our only hope anyway, we can't risk going down the main staircase now, they'll be here any second."

"But the drop..."

"It'll be okay. I'll hold onto your arms. Just climb up and hang over."

My heart was pounding like mad, but I did as I was told. I climbed onto the edge, made sure the fire escape was beneath me, then turned around, on my belly, and let my legs dangle over. Maria held on to me as more and more of me slipped over. Soon, she too was on the ledge, and the only thing supporting my weight. "Okay," she said. "I'm going to let you go. It's only a little drop."

It seemed like a lot to me, but I didn't have much choice or time to protest. Suddenly, I was falling. I landed on my ass and bumped my head a little on the metal railing.

When I looked up, I saw Maria's legs dangling over the edge. Her skirt was caught between her belly and the ledge, and her uppermost thighs and tight white panties were exposed to the air. "Do you want some help?" I offered hesitantly.

"No, just get out of the way so I don't land on you." I complied, and second later, she was down. She still had the gun in her hand, and waved it as a pointer. "Okay, now we just need to get over there."

The gap didn't seem completely insurmountable, but if I was wrong, the fall was incredible. My legs shook when I considered risking it. "There's no way I can jump that," I said.

"Sure you can. What, were you fat, before? Because you're a lot lighter now."

"No," I said, the words coming from some deep part of me. I'd never thought I'd had a fear of heights. "No, no, no..."

Maria looked at me appraisingly, then around. She picked up a small rock about the size of her hand. "Okay, I'll tell ya what. You start going down, one by one. If you can find an open window on our side before we get spotted we'll take our chances doubling back inside. If not, we jump, no matter what." I stared at her for a second, and she said, "Believe me, you don't want these people getting a hold of you. You'll never get your life back. So get moving."

That threat, that I'd never get my life back, inspired me. I moved to the two windows on the landing I was on, tried them, found them both locked. That's New York for you. I descended, checked again, and again no luck. Maria didn't try any of the windows, or even come down with me, she held her gun ready and watched all over from the top. Up, the street, and all other directions, regularly switching, like guarding against threats was something that was second nature to her.

Four floors down, I finally found a window that was propped open with a pencil, of all things. I lifted it, but and at first I thought I'd never get it open, but I put almost all my effort into it and finally there was enough room to get in. "Here," I said.

"Okay, get in." But I didn't, not right away. As I watched from below, tucked the gun into her skirt, then Maria lifted the stone and threw it overhand like a baseball. It went through the window on the other side with a crash, and she started sprinting down the stairs to where I found an entrance. Once she reached me, she shoved me inside and followed.

"What did you do that for?" I asked.

"So they'll think we went in there. I didn't see anybody with eyes on us, so we might be okay." She closed the window and the blinds, and only then thought to check if there was anybody here. Nobody was in the living room area we were in, but that wasn't good enough. Maria's gun came out of her skirt and back into her hand, and, keeping her back along hallway, she kicked open the bathroom door and held a gun to it. It was empty. Next she moved on to the bedroom, which had its door open, so she paused by the doorframe, then spun quickly to get the drop on anybody inside. After a similar check of one more room, she said, "Okay. Now all we have to worry about is if somebody outside saw us."

Her head darted around in all directions again, then she sat in the hallway, legs pulled up to her chest, and put a finger to her ear. "What's your ETA?" In the silence of the apartment, I could hear the response as a faint buzzing. If nothing else, it proved she wasn't just crazy. "Okay, we'll try to meet you in the underground parking." Finally, she looked at me exhausted, and motioned me to sit. "Stay here, though. We can't be seen from the window, and we'll know if anybody tries to get in."

"So, can you tell me what's going on, finally?" I asked.

"I can try. The short answer is, it's magic. You and I, along with a whole bunch of other people have been..." she hesitated, but finally shrugged with a self-conscious grin and said the word she thought might not quite say everything. "...cursed. This body you're in now? You're going to turn into it for about three days every month."

Finally, a light at the end of the tunnel, although with the promise of many more tunnels ahead. "And after that?"

"You go back to what you looked like before."

"And what did I do to deserve this... curse?"

"Nothing. Deserve doesn't mean shit. As near as we can figure out, curses are a bit like landmines. Someone uses them for what they feel's a perfectly good reason, and decades later they can still explode and hurt somebody. This particular curse is transmissible. I got it because somebody wanted to infect me with it." She took a deep breath and spread her legs. "Fuck, adrenaline always gets me hot. How horny are you right now?"

"What? I'm not." Not very. My eyes were drawn to her crotch, just visible beneath her skirt, and where I could see a wet spot on her panties. Once I saw that, I couldn't look away.

"Really? First time, you should be practically dripping, unless..." She eyed me speculatively. "You had sex already, didn't you?"

I could feel the blush creeping into my face. "I couldn't help it!" Then I panicked. "Does this mean... that I can't change back? If you have sex as a girl, you're not stuck as one forever, are you?"

She laughed. "No. Actually, it's better that you have sex in your first three days. I just didn't expect it to be so soon." I was surprised she couldn't smell it. "What happened?"

"I, um, went to a neighbor's to try to figure out what to do."

Maria frowned. "And he took advantage of you?"

"Sort of. There were two of them. And..." I couldn't finish.

"And you wanted them to. I know. It's part of the curse, while you're a girl you'll get really horny from time to time. You can resist it, but the first few times it can be overwhelming. The worst part is, you can't even masturbate." I looked up at her, and she clarified. "Well, you can, but it doesn't satisfy the urge, it just makes it worse."

"What kind of a curse is this?"

"We think it was originally cast on a pedophile. You know, poetic justice, turn them into the same type of sex toy they wanted. If that was the case, it backfired horribly, a lot of the Annes love their situation, and sickos are much more dangerous around children when they become one. Even some of the responsible of us can slip, the urges get so strong... that's why we try to help each other out." She took a breath. "And speaking of which... do you mind?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, but I already knew what she meant, I just could hardly believe it.

She pulled the crotch of her panties to one side and flashed her pussy... tight and wet with a little pink tent at the top. "Just sit here beside me and rub my cunt," she said, patting towards the floor on the side that lead into the hallway. She still held a gun in that hand, which seemed like an implied threat even when it wasn't pointed at me, but when I hesitated, she said, "If you don't want to, that's okay, but I'm a much better shot if I'm not all keyed up."

I scooted up beside her, and she pulled her skirt up to give me access. I was very tentative about it at first, but my hand gradually extended and found its way towards her belly and landed on the smooth skin. She took a sharp breath when we made contact, even though I wasn't touching her genitals yet.

Once that happened, I didn't think I could turn back, so my hand slid downward and under her panties. It wasn't just warm, it was hot, and wet, and I experimentally kneaded the flesh. Maria bit her lip and turned away from me, as though she was looking out the window, even though she couldn't actually see the window from there. Maybe she was watching for shadows on the light through the window.

I continued massaging the flesh of her pussy, and found my fingers continually stroking up and down her slit. Two of them dipped inside and got even wetter than the rest of my hand. I noticed Maria's gun-hand, although still clutching the grip, now no longer held the trigger, as though she was afraid she might accidentally let it go off. She began to inhale and exhale visibly, her chest rising with the deep but silent breaths she was taking. Soon I found I was breathing in and out in harmony with her, and my pussy seemed to twitch with excitement as I fingered hers. Then I thought, "Why not do both?" My own pants were just loose enough that I could slip a hand in without even undoing a button, so I worked my way into my own panties and rubbed myself. Tingles of pleasure ran up my body and I could feel myself start to lube up again.

It felt good and I picked up the pace, on both of us, rubbing more frenetically. Maria's legs started to quiver and she let out a muffled cry... I realized she was still biting her lip, but this time to keep the sound in. She relented long enough to whisper, "Keep going..."

I kept going, fingering both of us, like I was playing the piano except instead of keys, I was playing it on two preteen pussies, and one of them was my own.

It only took a couple minutes before I triggered Maria's orgasm. I felt it... her pussy seemed to clench down on my finger, but it was also visible in the way her legs trembled like she was having a seizure, and I heard a soft but continuous whimpering as she rode out the sensation, which lasted about a minute. Afterwards, she took a deep breath, and said, "Thanks." Her face was deeply flushed, but she shook her head as though to clear it and although the redness faded slowly, the look of utter peace vanished in an instant and she took on a guarded look. Her finger slid back to her gun's trigger. "You can stop fingering me now," she said.

I reluctantly pulled my hand away, letting her panties snap back into place, but I was too turned on to just stop my own self-pleasure. Now that I had both hands to myself, I unbuttoned my jeans to give myself more access.

That action was noticed. Maria looked over to me and sighed a little. "I told you, you can't get yourself off. Here, I'll help." Her hand joined mine down my pants, and then gradually pushed mine out the way. I didn't mind at all, it felt so much better... like a little electric connection that was missing when it was my own efforts. It was more than that, too... Maria must have had a lot more experience rubbing pussies, because there was no hesitation, no fumbling, she just stroked steadily as my pleasure increased. Thirty seconds in when I was good and practically drooling from the cunt, she suddenly went for my clit, rubbing it with two fingers as my legs involuntarily braced myself against the other side of the hallway.

I was close, so close, another few seconds and I'd be over the edge... and then it went away. Her hand left and went to her ear. "What?" she said. "All right."

My hand tried to finish the job, I did my best to imitate the way she rubbed my clit, but all it did was keep me at that level of pleasure, I couldn't move past it into the heaven I wanted... and when you're at the gates of heaven, just not being allowed to go inside can be a hell of its own. I prayed for her to finish her phone call and get back to finish me.

Instead, she stood up. "We'll be right down," she said, and then her hand dropped from her ear but instead of returning to me, she used it as leverage to rise. Once she was on her feet, she reached out to offer me help, but not the kind of help I wanted.

"But..." I said, unable to articulate it, or maybe it was just hard to admit that I needed to cum.

"We'll finish later. My people are in the underground parking, and the longer we wait, the more dangerous it is, come on."

Reluctantly, I took her hand and she pulled me to my feet, and then we made for the front door while I rebuttoned my pants.

We crept cautiously down the hallway, Maria in the lead with the gun ready, me following behind, my mind mostly on the yearning ache between my legs, but we moved quickly and silently, at least until we approached the stairwell door. There, Maria asked, "Does that lead down to underground parking?"

It took me a second to answer. One of the two stairwells did, but the other didn't, and I had to do some thinking to recall which side of the building we were on. "Yes," I said finally, only being about 80% sure.

"We're coming down the stairwell," she said to the voice in her ear. "Be ready to pick us up." We went through the door and ran down the stairs. A much heavier door awaited us at the bottom, but Maria hefted it open and pulled me through into the garage.

I didn't have a car, so I'd only been down there a handful of times, and I didn't even know where we were supposed to be going, but Maria pressed forward regardless, as though we were being chased. I was starting to wonder again if maybe she was just insane or, more likely, lying. She had a voice in her ear, that was certain, but I'd never seen any of the 'other side' she spoke about. The specter of them being after us gave her an excuse to drive me around to her agenda.

That doubt didn't last long, though. I heard a soft, feminine, "Hey!", coming from the direction of the elevator. It was another girl, about our age, maybe even a little younger. She might have been ten, but it could have just been the blonde pigtails that made her look especially young. She wore a yellow sundress, and had a small gun in one hand.

Maria whipped her head around at the voice, and then back to me. "Get down," she yelled, and pushed me in between two cars. Pigtails raised her gun and fired. I heard a quiet whuff and dull thump, both at approximately the same time, followed by a plink of metal, not at all what I expected a gunshot to be.

Maria's return fire, that sounded like a gun, or something like a firework going off. It missed its target too, but it was fired while Maria was falling to asphalt herself. "Stay there," she said to me, then rolled on her side and tried to find the girl with pigtails. I could see pink running shoes behind a car, but at that moment found myself speechless... even though I wanted to warn her, I couldn't seem to say anything.

"Just let the new one go with us," a high-pitched, amazingly cheerful voice piped up. "You can go on your way, promise."

"Sorry," Maria said, focusing on the sound. She too saw the feet now, and seemed to be weighing whether to try shooting under the car. "I know what you'll do." She rolled again, getting her outfit all dirty, but putting some distance between where she spoke and landing on her stomach, where she could easily push herself onto her feet.

I didn't see anything from my position, not even feet, but she must have, for she fired two rounds. One smashed glass, a windshield, probably. I could hear a car in the distance, its wheels squealing. It was getting closer.

Another of the quiet 'whuff/thump' shots rang out, and Maria ducked. That was when the car finally came into view, it was a black SUV, tinted windows. Maria rushed backwards to my side, helped me to my feet. "That's our ride."

The car skidded to a stop, and the side door opened. Maria pushed me towards it. I hopped in, and turned back... that's when I saw the other girl, coming up from behind a car. It wasn't the one with pigtails, this one had neck-length black hair and wore shorts and a t-shirt. She also held a gun in her hand. I found my voice, barely in time, "Watch out..."

Maria spun to see the threat just as the girl fired. The bullet whizzed by me and sank into the seat. Maria fired back, and this one hit. The girl's shoulder exploded into red, and she dropped the gun. For a second I though Maria had blown the arm straight off, but that was just panic combined with the odd jerking motion she made when she was hit. It was the first person I'd ever seen shot, and it looked like it had just happened to an adolescent girl.

When Maria turned to me, I realized that it was the technically second person I'd seen shot, if grazed counted as shot. A long shallow but wide gash was cut in her face, just under her eye, marring those perfect, model-like features. She crawled into the car, covered her face with one hand, and shouted, "Drive."

We lurched forward, then back, and the car made a quick turn before accelerating again. "Oh my god," I whispered, but it was a zombie-like repetition, like it was something I knew I should be saying. .

"Fuck Christ that hurts. You got a first aid kit?" she asked the driver, who I looked at for the first time, without much interest. He was a somewhat pudgy man wearing sunglasses and a hat. I didn't think he had hair under the hat. He reached between the two front seats and pulled out a little case, then tossed it back towards us.

The SUV lurched to one side as we took a sharp turn, and my shoulder slammed into the other side, but I barely paid it any notice and even when we broke into the sunlight, it made no impact on me. It was like it was happening to somebody else. Everything was just too surreal to be happening to me, the real me. I was just in a little girl gunfight, saw somebody die, and was now in what seemed like a car chase, even though I wasn't sure we were actually being followed, while another girl, who was really a man named Mario, bandaged herself. There were many times during this day that I thought maybe I was dreaming, but this was the first time I literally felt it, that dreamlike disconnection, that bland acceptance that anything might happen next, and I'd be okay with it, because it wasn't really me, and I'd be waking up any minute. Maybe a dinosaur was chasing us. I could see it as plausible. Maybe it would have missiles.

"Hey, Michaela... hey, look at me," she said. She slapped my face very lightly, just enough to get my attention, and stared me down. It was silly, but for a moment I just lost myself in her eyes, and then my gaze was drawn to the bandage just below, and what went through my mind was 'she was so pretty, and she's going to have that scar forever.' She didn't seem to care. "You okay? You still with us? You look a little freaked."

It was then that I remembered why I was freaked, the last straw that made me all disassociative. "That girl... you killed her."

"Dana? Nah, I doubt it. Shoulder shot looked clean, she'll probably be okay. Probably should have, though, the bitch was certainly trying to kill me. Should have known the other girl was just a distraction so Dana could sneak behind us." Maria smiled a little. "Hey, if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have turned around in time. That means you saved my life."

"Not saved yet," said our driver. "We've got a tail."

"Well, lose them," Maria snapped. "They won't try anything in broad daylight but they can't follow us to the meet, they'll have reinforcements by then." She looked back at me, and then bit her lip coquettishly. "Hey, if you saved my life, you should get a reward, right? You never did get off back in the apartment..." With that, her delicate fingers went to the button of my jeans, undid them, and started tugging down.

That hotness between my legs had never gone away, I'd just pushed it to the back of my mind during the firefight, and now I could think of nothing else. So, when she pulled my jeans down, I lifted my ass so she could get them to the knees. When she did the same with my panties, I helped her pull them down.

I scooted to the edge of the seat and leaned back, so only the back of my head was in contact with the back. "Now that's a cute pussy," Maria said. "I like how it's all puffed up."

"Fuck, don't tell me that," I heard from up front. "Trying to keep my eyes on the road here."

"Just telling it like it is." She cupped it with her hand, making my ass instinctively clench to rise and meet her. She squeezed it gently, and then spread her fingers so spread open my hole slightly. Maria leaned in, getting her head oh so close while I looked down. First she breathed on it... you know, like people sometimes breathe when they're polishing a shoe or drying their nails? It was like that, except it didn't feel like breath, it felt like a storm of tiny needles that didn't hurt, but made me very aware of every point they hit.

If that little prelude was good, the rest was better. Her tongue made contact and began sliding up my wet crack. I'd already learned today that an orgasm as a girl was far better than as a man, and now I was learning that oral was as well. Visually the was no comparison... looking down at a girl sucking your cock was great, but watching her lick your own pussy was like two great visuals for the price of one. Where it really blew away the competition was in sensation... it was almost like I had multiple cocks, one for each lip, another on the clit, they were connected but they felt like different parts, able to be stimulated alone or in concert. Maria's tongue slipped inside, less penetrative than the cocks I'd already had, but more dynamic, more exciting, with the ability to curve and hit nooks and crannies that had previously never known pleasure.

The vehicle we were in took a sharp turn and her tongue jammed up against the left wall of my cunt and she looked up angrily. "Little warning?"

"Sorry, you did say to lose them. If you want, you can drive and I'll get the new Lolly Anne off."

Lolly Anne? I wondered at the phrase. Maria had called me an Anne before, but I didn't think much about it. Then again, I couldn't think about it now, she returned to tonguing my slit and all other thoughts fled my mind. It wasn't a long lick, not this time, she pulled away and inserted two fingers, sawing them in and out like a small penis. It wasn't quite the same, but it still felt great, and when she added to it by kissing around my clit, it was like I was having trouble breathing. I panted heavily, feeling like my body was going to start shaking at any moment. Then, when I looked at my knee, I realized it already was.

It suddenly went dark and I thought maybe I'd gone blind, but no, we'd just passed through a short tunnel or an underpass or something. Immediately after it brightened, we turned again and I almost slipped off the chair, but one of my hands was gripping the nearest door-handle with a death-grip, and that was enough to keep me balanced, although I still felt like I was teetering on the edge. Maria's lips finally closed over my clit directly, and I cried out, and had yet another mind-blowing orgasm. My toes curled up inside my shoes as pretty much everything in my body seemed to tense, like the pleasure was an electric current running down every nerve and muscle.

When I came down from the onrush of pleasure, Maria pulled back and sat beside me. One hand went to my chin, and she turned my head to look her in the eye again, although it took a few more seconds to be able to focus. "There. You okay now?" I nodded mutely. "Good. Simon, they still on our ass?"

"I don't know," he said. "I think I might have lost them when I ran that red light." We ran a red light? I hadn't even noticed, although there did seem to be an awful lot of honking at one point while I was being finger-banged, to the point that I wondered for a second if the drivers saw us.

"Okay. Let's pull into that parking garage," Maria suggested. Simon took us in, and we stopped on the top floor. It didn't seem like anybody followed us in, at least that's what they said. I wasn't qualified to judge, and was still in something of a shell-shocked state. Maria got out to consult with the voices in her earpiece.

I stayed in the car with Simon, watching through the window. He undid his belt and turned back to me a minute after Maria left. "It'll be okay," he said. "Hey, there's a DVD player in this thing, I can put on some cartoons or something?" I looked up at him blankly, and he grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. I know you're not really a kid, but it's hard not to trust my eyes. And hell, I like cartoons."

I did too, but I had more pressing concerns. "Are you one too?" I asked suddenly. "Like me and Maria?"

"A Lolly Anne? Yeah. It's still new to me, though. I'm about six months in, my cycles are predictable, and yet whenever I find I've turned into a little brown girl, I still think I'm dreaming."

I frowned. "Brown?"

"Yeah, you got a problem with that? A fat white guy's not allowed to turn into a little brown girl? You racist or something?"

"No," I said, trying to placate. "I don't have a problem, it just seems strange." He shrugged, and looked away. "Did you have to go through all this, too? People chasing you?"

"No," he said boredly. "But I was recruited. You... you're special. The faction that claims you might get a leg up."

"Why?"

But I didn't get an answer, not right then. Maria opened the door and slid in beside me, dominating the conversation much like she'd pretty much took the lead in everything since I ran into her. "Okay, here's what we're going to do. Simon, you head out. If they are still tailing us, they'll probably think we're still in the back of your van. Drop off the van where you got it. Michaela and I will leave by foot, grab a cab, take us to a meeting with Adam."

The last I saw of Simon that day was him grumbling about having to pay parking charges out-of-pocket. "I better get reimbursed..."

"Just save your receipt," Maria called while he pulled out. I waved weakly, and then Maria grabbed my hand. "Come on, the longer we linger, the more exposed we are." She took me into the stairwell, stopping a moment to put her gun back in its little thigh-holster.

Luckily, if anybody was following us, they seemed to fall for Simon's decoy, because we didn't see any sign of anybody. Maria would have been better at spotting it than I would, and she seemed satisfied, although she looked constantly on edge.

Getting a cab was easier than I thought it would be for two preteen girls. We found a cab waiting outside of a coffee shop, and although the driver initially hesitated at taking us all the way to Chinatown on Maria's suggestion, when she flashed enough cash to do the job, he started the meter, and tried to make nice. "So you girls go to school? What grade?" He looked Middle Eastern, but spoke clearly with only a slight accent.

"Sixth," Maria said. "It's a half-day today though."

"Ah. I have a son in second grade. What's your favorite..." He stopped, and in the rear-view mirror, we could see him wave a finger to cheek, just below his eye. "What happened? Hurt yourself?"

"Yeah, we were playing field hockey, and I took a stick right in the face." Maria lied smoothly, and elaborately, coming up with a whole scenario that lead up to her receiving that wound during middle school sports instead of a gunfight, but I didn't really appreciate the artistry in her deception. I was trying again to enumerate all the questions I had once we got to wherever we were going, since I couldn't ask them now.

It was a long drive, with lots of traffic, and when the driver's attentions turned to me and asked why I was so quiet, I mumbled a few answers until Maria covered for me, explaining that I was really shy, and resumed control of the conversation. As she talked, she kept looking out the window behind her, checking for tails, I guess, but did it subtly, pretending to be looking at the neighborhood, or seeing a dog they just passed, and worked it into the conversation. I listened for a while, but was a little alarmed to find, by the end of the ride, that I was paying attention less and less and thinking more and more about what the driver's cock would look like. I really couldn't remember whether Muslims circumcised themselves. That hot feeling began to grow with the thought, and I wondered at whether, if he suggested we pulled over and had a threesome, would we be able to resist, or was the compulsion that strong?

Luckily, I never had to answer that question. He let us off at a corner, Maria paid him and got a receipt, and we were on a street full of Asian people. "Where are we going?" I asked.

"One of Adam's holdings," Maria said, and pointed just up at the corner. "See that building?" It had a bunch of Chinese letters on it, and a bunch of different storefronts, including a restaurant, a china shop, and what looked like a number of apartments above it. "That's where we're going."

"Is Adam Chinese?" I asked.

"No."

"Does he turn into a little Chinese girl?"

Maria rolled her eyes. "No. He's just a white guy. Not everybody who owns a business in Chinatown's Asian, you know." Embarrassed, I shut up, and when we reached the building, we didn't go in the front, but walked down a side street and then up a set of stairs to a building which had a small sign on it, "A.W. Talent Agency, by appointment only."

Inside, it didn't look much like a talent agency. There was a hallway, a potted plant, and four doors. One said "A.W. Talent Agency" again. Two others appeared to be washrooms. The last was marked "Employees only." Maria pressed the intercom buzzer by the talent agency door, and there was an answering buzz, but she didn't open that door. Instead, she strolled over to the employees-only door, and opened it. I followed her down a set of stairs into what I guessed was below the ground floor. There, was another door.

Inside was what looked like a large office, with a number of cubicles and a large lounge area with several couches. Six men, and two young girls were seated at the lounge, around a table with a plate of sandwiches cut up into little triangles. Most of the people stood up when we approached. One of the men caught my eyes right away. He was in his mid-to-late thirties, blonde hair, he looked startlingly familiar, but I couldn't place exactly where I knew him from.

"Gentlemen," Maria said, "May I present Michaela, our new Lolly Anne."

"If that is her," one of the men said doubtfully. "You said you were worried it might be a decoy."

"If it is, she's new," another declared. "Or well hidden."

"I'm convinced she's a newbie. I just feel it in my gut," Maria said. "Besides, they wouldn't have opened fire in public just to sell a decoy."

Finally I couldn't take it anymore. "Would someone please explain what's going on? Why did you bring me here? Why are people after me? How did I become this... Lolly Anne thing. What does that even mean?"

The man who was so eerily familiar to me chuckled, and I realized I'd heard that chuckle before too. "I suppose I can answer the last question first. It's an old joke, about the curse, the curse that all of us share. Werewolves used to be called 'Lycanthropes', from the greek 'lykos', meaning wolf, and 'anthropos', meaning man. Except, unlike lycanthropes, we turn not into wolves, but into oversexualized little girls, little lolitas. Somebody chose the name 'Lolianthropes' to describe us, and, as etymologically dubious as that term may be, it stuck, and became shortened..."

"Lolly Annes," Maria supplied, but my attention was still on the last speaker, the man who spoke much like a librarian. He reminded me a little of a young Giles from the old TV series Buffy, and then I suddenly remembered the last person who reminded me of that, the last person who had that distinctive chuckle.

I realized it was the man I was looking at. He should have been in his late forties by now, that's probably what threw me, not to mention that I only met him a half dozen times, and he had darker hair, but now that the memory came back, it came back in force. "You. I remember you. You're Jennifer's father!" Jennifer, the girl who took my virginity. Perhaps not my first love, but the one that hurt the most, the girl I thought I might have been meant to be with, until she moved away and I never heard from her again.

"Well, that settles it," he said sadly. "You're definitely the one we were after. Hello again, Michael. It's been a long time. Welcome to the Alliance. Come, sit. I'm sure you have many more questions."

End of Installment #1
Next Time: "Safehouse"

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