"It were a vain endeavour,
Though I should gaze for ever
On that green light that lingers in the west:
I may not hope from outward forms to win
The passion and the life, whose fountains are within."
-Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Dejection: An Ode
Crouched within a coppice next to the palace, a blue-haired girl tensely waited. Her deep cerulean eyes slowly and methodically scanned the scene before her, betraying absolutely no emotion. The scene reflected in them was static: the hulking mass of the nearly-finished palace back and to the left; the wide, empty path in front, recently covered with a violet-gray, slightly rubbery material that cushioned falls; a dull evening mist in the air, a vague gray sky, no wind, and a total absence of ambient sound. Hidden in the trees across the street, she just barely saw, on her third pass, a squat, perfectly square black building. The artificial-intelligence construct currently monopolizing Kaia's senses and motor functions rifled through the girl's memories; at first it wished to find out directly what the building was, but Kaia had never given it any thought. Then it began collecting her memories and searching for the times she had passed the building, aggregating what sensory data she had inadvertently gathered about its environs and trying to piece its purpose together thence. But that wasn't successful either; Kaia had seen a few people, mostly students, moving to or from the general direction of the building, but there was no pattern. Kaia simply hadn't looked in that general direction often enough to give the construct any information.
At last, the construct decided that it needed to risk seeking information from another source. Kaia's body rose slightly, still half-crouching, and cautiously moved deeper into the coppice, away from the road but parallel to the side of the palace's entranceway. As she continued on, the wall began to incline slightly outwards in the direction of the coppice, which had been trimmed in parallel with it. Abruptly, the stand of trees and shrubbery ended, several dozen yards before the wall took a sharp turn further outwards to enclose a long, wide section overlooking a lake. As she crept to the edge of the foliage, Kaia's ears began hearing faint, irregular noises from somewhere high in the air. The construct scanned the skies for the sound's source, and found it five or six stories above the palace's ground level, where dozens of workers moved quickly around an obscure web of scaffolding, surface black marble and various interior materials. Huge, musclebound girls broke off pieces of marble and other materials from giant slabs on the ground, and tossed them thirty or forty feet in the air to the workers, who noisily cut marble or wood with huge swords, or bent metal with their bare hands.
The construct didn't want to wade into the thick of the construction project, as Kaia's body, its presence inexplicable, might be physically overpowered before all the threats could be mentally subdued. It searched Kaia's memories regarding the new palace, hoping to find out who was in charge. This time, it seemed to be successful. Earlier in the afternoon, when Kaia was tending to the Darkbitch, she had heard her discussing Akiko's progress in orchestrating the construction. Kaia had heard Akiko say that she no longer needed to be present at the construction site, as she could monitor the workers mentally. The construct analyzed this detail for a while. It ultimately concluded that there was a good chance Akiko would drop by anyway, either to make sure everything was going fine or to make some change that was easier to make in person. So it bid Kaia's body wait, and watch.
Tossing her long blonde locks over one massive shoulder, Eri tried to look authoritative as she led her cheerleaders into the old gym for its final game. By now she had grown taller, bustier and more muscular than the rest of the team, which made intimidating them easier. Still, she felt on the defensive by the third or so of the cheerleaders who were also prefects, cocks wobbling under their miniskirts. She had to be harsh with them, she thought as she dragged one of those prefects, the chocolate-brown Tara, to one end of the plush courtside bench where the cheerleaders sat, forcing the girl to her knees, lifting up her skirt and commanding her to lick. Even though all the girls were required to serve the athletes during games, the prefects were more interested in their more assertive role at the end of games, when they helped the winning team punish the losers. That wasn't surprising, but it wasn't any excuse either -- the prefects knew they had to be submissive cheerleaders part of the time in order to reap their privileges at the end.
The sound of conversation in the distance alerted Eri to the arrival of the two teams. Easing Tara off her cunt, she casually scanned the rest of the cheerleaders, trying not to let on that she didn't remember who was carrying the bag. Within a few seconds she spotted it between the long legs of Bree, the former head cheerleader -- a soft square cube, zipped up on three sides a quarter of the way down. Rather than waste her breath, she quickly strode the length of the bench and snatched the bag from the floor. Startled out of staring at the huge ass of the Asian girl in front of her, Bree leapt up to attention, ready to do whatever Eri ordered. The head cheerleader didn't look at her as she tossed the bag to Ino, the captain of the black-clad Army team and the first one out of the gate. As she opened the bag, Ino greeted Sydney, the green-haired captain in her Academy team's white uniform, while the other players dispersed in the vague direction of the team benches located on either end of the far side of the field.
A coldly furious but silent Eri shoved Bree onto her lap, pulled up the girl's skirt and began spanking her ass. But even this spectacle didn't hold the attention of the cheerleaders for long, as Ino and Sydney finished up passing out the contents of the bags -- slender black collars inlaid with a glowing purple material. After dealing with a slightly confusing latch, the players slipped them on, ten on each team -- a few for the first time, none for more than the fifteenth or so. But, when the transformation hit, ecstasy on their faces was as intense even for those practiced at it. Twenty girls who already ranged from about seven to eight feet tall, with musculature anywhere from "really toned" to "actually rather hulking," metamorphosed into virtual deities. Even the slenderest now had huge muscles rippling under their skin-tight uniforms, and most could easily reach up and grab at least the nets of those fourteen-foot rims that normally seemed so intimidating.
As she maneuvered a chastened Bree back between her legs, a sighing Eri leaned back against the soft, velour-like material of the bench's high back and let her eyes drift to the players, a handful of whom were still staring at themselves and at the other players in giddy shock. But the new recruits quickly fell into the routine encouraged by the skill-giving-by-touch that Jade had given them earlier: a shootaround, beginning with layup drills. Or, that's what they ostensibly were, but the first few times through the line, the girls were determined to show off their power. The captains shot first, and Ino, who remained the tallest player on the floor at well over ten feet, started things off by lofting the ball such that it bounced high off the top of the backboard, leaping about five and a half feet in the air, twisting her body backwards, catching the ball just as it was falling past the basket, and driving home a reverse jam a few inches left of center. She caught Sydney's eyes and pointed directly at the green-haired tearaway, as if to challenge her to do better. The Academy captain, at nine and a half feet dwarfed by most of her teammates, gave a devilish grin and turned away, her eyes lighting up as she headed towards the basket. She took a catlike leap of astonishing grace and power that seemed to go on forever; when her boobs, accentuated by the skin-tight white fabric, had reached the rim, she swiftly descended, fading to the center to hammer down a crushing left-handed tomahawk. Spinning back to face the Army basket, she mimed firing a gun at Ino as she glided smoothly to the floor.
Eri wasn't sure whether her climax came more from Bree's tongue or from the dunk.
Methodically but quickly, Akiko's powerful legs ascended the last of ten flights of stairs, while her arms, still studded with a few water droplets from the pool, carefully cradled the sleeping Darkbitch. The bedroom she was approaching wasn't the closest one to the pool by a long shot, but it was the primary one, whose location and layout the Darkbitch had intimately planned -- Akiko didn't want the Darkbitch to be confused or disoriented when she woke up. Which, thought the head of the Army as she entered the cavernous, windowless white-and-violet room and gently laid her raven-haired Goddess atop the lavender sheets of the central bed, would hopefully be soon. The Darkbitch always enjoyed attending the Army-Academy basketball games, and then there was the ceremony afterwards. Of course, if the Darkbitch were asleep, the ceremony would simply be postponed -- no one wanted to disturb her. In fact, if she found out her world had stopped to wait for her, she might not be that upset.
With a slight smile, Akiko closed the door behind her Goddess and strode down the hall to the rear balcony. The tenth story had been built when most of the lower floors were little more than skeletons, so that the Darkbitch could have her isolated bedroom as soon as possible. Now the workers had finished most of the floors below her, and had set up shop on the eighth story balcony, receiving material from below, fashioning it and taking the result to furnish the rooms inside. The balconies were being laid out so as to resemble one side of a black stone pyramid from a distance: as one's eye traveled down from the top, each progressive balcony would be closer to the lakefront. (Since all the balconies were the same size, this meant that higher floors were progressively smaller.)
Akiko walked to the edge of the balcony, took one good look and leaped. So as not to crush any of the workers by her sudden appearance, she dove such that she could grab onto the far railing. Swinging herself back around to face the balcony, as her boobs bounced wildly in the camo bikini, she lifted herself up and waved to the workers; those who could see her dropped what the were doing and bowed to their Lady. Those who didn't were quickly elbowed or whispered to by nearby workers, but before everyone could turn around she had already dropped down to the balcony immediately below her. She ran up to the edge, hurdled the railing and landed on the one below, and repeated the process all the way down to the ground. To avoid the possibly chaotic process of cutting through the pool, where girls were still toweling off and retrieving uniforms, Akiko decided to walk beside the building to reach the front hall, to see if Jade had finished preparing for the prefect ceremony, and to help her if she needed it.
When Akiko was halfway to the front of the palace, its rear wing blocking the workers' view of her, she suddenly felt a tap on her shoulder. She whirled around and recognized Kaia, apparently dressed but looking a bit disheveled -- most likely, she thought, the cyan-haired girl had just come from a quick makeout session in the nearby tree grove. The cockeyed smile on Kaia's face and her rather vague stare bolstered her impression.
"Hello, Kaia. Is there some reason you need me?"
"Sorry for the intrusion, my Lady, but a friend and I were having an argument, and, well, um . . . do you prefer Nielsen or Sibelius?"
"Well, Carl Nielsen had the better ideas," replied Akiko readily, "and you've got to love someone who ended his last symphony with a metaphorical fart. But, overall, I think I find Sibelius more pleasant to listen to. Just cue up the Lemminkainen Suite, and. . ."
. . . and she fell on her ass, because Kaia had just kneed Akiko in her barely-covered groin. Within a second or two she had scrambled to her feet, but couldn't see Kaia. Presumably the girl had darted behind a tree, so Akiko did the first thing she could think of, and began simply uprooting the trees, one by one, and tossing them aside. As she headed deeper into the forest, she felt a sharp sting in her head, one of the last warning signs for a psychic attack. Embarassed that she hadn't recognized it sooner, Akiko looked around and realized that she had inexplicably blazed a trail in one direction instead of uproting all the nearest trees -- Kaia was probably still standing five feet from where she started. In her anger, she had never noticed she was being gently guided. She tried to do a psychic scan for Kaia, but she couldn't see anyone anymore, not even the workers.
As Akiko charged back to where she started, she struggled to contain her anger and focus, but the pain was getting worse. She knew she couldn't fight off the psychic attack with her own mental defenses, so her only hope was to find the much weaker Kaia and knock her out before the control was solidified. She began uprooting trees again, but found it much harder going this time, as if her strength was being sapped. After several tries, she finally found Kaia, smiling vaguely behind one of the trees, and reached out to put her in a headlock. As the pain reached a crescendo, Akiko's arm passed right through the illusion. As she lost consciousness and fell forward onto the soft grass, Kaia emerged from behind another tree and stood over her body, her cute face once again totally emotionless.
And Aki was alone in her mind with her old memories.
Harsh light from above, the difficult and unshielded summer sun. This is where men are made.
General Robert Ware had a barricade and fifty good men behind him. What was in front of him, he wasn't sure. Jaw squared and eyes dark, the fit forty-something stared down a dusty Kansas country road, trying to decide if the faint glimmer he saw in the far distance was just the heat, or if it signaled the crumbling of reality.
Ware had grown up steeped in old books on military history and on the memoirs of warriors. He hadn't idealized the army itself -- obviously, it was a hard life -- but he certainly had expected the vocation of an officer to be something serious, adequate to his intellectual interests, requiring not just leadership but strategy and foresight. In Yemen and then in Somalia, he found himself useless, unable to plan because his missions had never been defined, and without enough power to define them himself. So, when a cadre of high-ranking intelligence officers, accompanied by a strange, tall woman with deep red eyes, approached him on a brief vacation stateside, asking him to leave his post and join a secret expedition against the gravest threat America had ever faced -- well, they had picked the right man.
"I know your job is wasted on you," the woman had insisted in smooth, languorous tones. "But this one won't be."
And when he had accepted, Robert was pretty sure that she had taken him to bed. He didn't remember protesting that he had a wife. Or was that after the divorce? Either way, he couldn't really remember anything about it. Maybe he had imagined it all. It certainly hadn't been necessary to secure his loyalty. What else could he be loyal to? Who would turn down a chance to save the country, when he had been hoping to do just that for his entire life?
So Ware called his troops together and ordered them to march. He told them not to stop until he gave the order, no matter what happened. And so they marched, not even Ware knowing where the road would end but eager to get there, to eliminate the uncertainty. And when about two miles of utility poles and dirty had gone by, he felt a faint prickling around him, like a charge of static electricity. Before he even had time to register the sensation, Kansas was gone, and he was marching through one of the World War II campaigns that had filled his boyhood. He was in the H�rtgen Forest in the Ardennes, or the Volkhovsky Forest in Russia. He allowed himself a grin. All these dire warnings, and it was just a forest. He'd burn it down, and they'd take care of these girls, whatever voodoo powers they had.
Looking behind him, he was even more buoyed to see that his troops had already mostly concealed themselves behind the dense foliage. He opened his mouth to give his first order, but before he could speak, an intense pain seized his chest, then spread outwards. He thought he was having a heart attack, until he saw his men falling over one by one, no longer caring for their cover, screaming wildly or just gasping for air. And before long, Robert was on the ground too. The last thing he saw before he passed out was one of his best soldiers wildly spasming in front of him, his hair a long, silky black mane, his breasts swelling and distorting the dark green fabric of his uniform. And he somehow knew the same thing was about to happen to him.
Hours later, Akiko, Supreme Commander of the Darkbitch Army, sprung up from a relaxing nap to her full height. Hands on hips, she scanned the forest for her soldiers, and was gratified to find most of them clustered together, waiting for orders. The rest were presumably still asleep, but she somehow knew they wound find their way back to her, wherever she was. Akiko faced in the direction where she knew her headquarters would be, and led her troops n their first march in the Darkbitch's service. No matter how long the journey, she did not intend to slacken her pace.
After preparing Eri and meeting with the new basketball recruits, Jade had hurried to what she was already thinking of as the Old Castle to prepare its entrance hall, one last time, for the prefect ceremony. She had corralled about a dozen volunteers from the thin stream of girls heading to the game to help. As she had used her ability to give them the apposite skills, they were doing a predictably superb job, but she still insisted on close supervision. Now, they were fling out, done with their tasks, and Jade was double-checking everything in the ceremonial room. Climbing aboard its alabaster base, she lifted the specially built glass-and-ivory throne with one hand to check for spots under it. Finding none, she replaced the heavy throne it just as easily and soundlessly.
She scanned the hall one last time, ensuring that everything was in its proper place. The crimson carpet leading to the throne was perfectly straight; the windows were covered with thick black curtains, and the large white candles that lit the room, suspended high in the air in their golden sconces, were evenly aligned on each side of the carpet. Elaborate silver paint, as delicate as filigree, covered the walls in stunningly complex patterns. Everything was polished, burnished, dusted or otherwise cleaned. Satisfied, Jade let herself out through the huge wooden front door. Her next task was to meet up with Akiko and the Darkbitch, who ought to be heading to the game by now.
She scanned the area and was surprised to find the Darkbitch asleep. She was more surprised to be unable to detect Aki at all. Something was seriously wrong. Before long she was sprinting towards the Black Palace, her six-inch heels no hindrance. She had to get physically close to Kennedy as soon as possible, so that they could combine their psychic energies effectively against whatever enemy there was. Almost instinctively, without really thinking, she slithered through the emergency backdoor into Kennedy's brain that she'd always had but never used. She searched for the fundamental and inseparable link that the Darkbitch had with every other mind in her world. As she found it, and began tracing the line down to Aki, one of the palace's huge silver-coated double doors swung open. Kennedy charged in her direction, unkempt black hair backblown by a brisk wind, red eyes half-lidded in lethean sleep. Jade slowed, watching her barefoot Goddess's boobs, guarded only by a flimsy black lace-fringed bra, undulate hypnotically. Jade thought of the Darkbitch serene in bed, with her divine fingers at her pussy as she relived the day's conquests in a dream.
But the thought of the Darkbitch asleep was like a key slipped into the lock of a mental door. It triggered a memory, one that washed all over her at once, paralyzing her in the street with horrible shame. As Jade relived the first time she had used her control over the Darkbitch, it was all she could do not to fall to her knees.
"God-dammit!" Taylor hissed a bit too loudly, as she struggled to stretch her arm high enough to cut into the window. "Why isn't the guy up here, anyway?"
Doug attempted to sigh, heard a muffled noise, and realized his ski mask was covering his mouth. After adjusting it, he replied, "We went over this already. You're two inches taller and you can reach higher. And, really, Marisa's a foot taller than either of us, so you should be asking her."
"Uh, no," Marisa hissed. "The only reason I'm even here is to make sure you two don't screw up."
"Hey," Doug responded, "this whole failed campaign was your idea. I suppose it takes a genius to target someone whose aunt is a high-powered lawyer."
"It may have started that way, but now we're in this together. And we're both getting what we want. Kennedy's clothes are going to accidentally fall in the creek, and, well, I did my part for you."
"The fellatio was nice, yes. Consider it interest on the kiss you were going to give me for getting Kennedy's locker combination. Back then you thought I was expendable." Doug was speaking more rapidly now, his voice hard-edged. "Now Taylor and I are the only ones who will risk ourselves for you. We're already implicated, and even then, it'd be easier to just leave. I wonder what you did to get Taylor here. Maybe you ate her out?"
"Um, well. . . . of course not!" Marisa's mask hid her furious, telling blush.
"Excuse me." Taylor was poised to enter the window, the circle of glass cut out in one hand. "Are you trying to get us caught? If you retards don't shut up I'll drop this on your head."
"Sorry. . . . OK, I'm in position to catch."
Taylor clambered awkwardly through the window, misjudged the distance to the floor, and hit the carpet on her hands and knees with a modest thump. Her momentary panic calmed when Kennedy's soft snoring continued unbroken. She waited, allowing her eyes to adjust to the deeper darkness of the bedroom, until she found the closet. She eased the door open, and finding only a modest number of clothes hanging up -- mostly jeans, a few dresses and shirts -- removed them all. She folded the stack over and, with some effort, lugged it to the window.
She was about to call down to Doug to get ready for the clothes, but she thought she saw something out of the corner of her eye. Was Kennedy stirring? Turning around to check, she saw a brightly glowing violet ring, suspended over Kennedy's head like a halo. She was wondering what sort of performance art she had walked into when the halo's brightness suddenly expanded a hundredfold, filling the room with light. Suddenly blinded, Taylor dropped the clothes and scrambled to where she thought the window was. Before she could reach the edge of the room, she felt the ground start to give way underfoot.
Taylor was falling, and screaming as she was falling and falling and the scream evaporated to nowhere so she couldn't hear it. She was sure that God must be punishing her for getting involved in this mess, something she'd been fearing ever since her disappointment with the result -- Brian Douglas had barely even pretended to be interested, and she'd had to pay to have Marisa's broken car towed away from her house. She'd even come back to church for the first time since the priest had touched her -- suddenly her thoughts were all jumbled, and she wasn't sure what she was thinking of. A priest, right? A sexy, female priest, who -- wait, Catholic priests can't be women, it must have been a nun, with those skin-tight black leather habits they all wore, ironically covering their hair while their tits bulged out of the tops of their catsuits, and their girlcocks bulged out of their crotches -- wait, did nuns have cocks? Well, she hoped so, because she wanted to suck one so bad, she wasn't sure she'd ever done it but for some reason she could remember the sweet, sweet taste of flesh laved in her mouth, the powerful arms of the nun holding her hand steady as she mumbled a confession through the cock in her mouth, saying that she knew this wasn't right but she felt it was bringing her closer to her Goddess, her speech vibrations sending the nun spasming, over the edge, with a very unholy squeal, her mouth anointed with holy seed, chrism/jism, omnipotent, perfect, heavenly.
With a start she woke up and found herself laying on damp grass, incredibly soft, which almost seemed to massage her back. She felt drained, exhausted, and it was more comfortable to just lay there, staring into a distant line of treetops, above which glistening stars poked through amidst patches of clouds. Having lain there inert for a while, recovering her strength, she heard a distant rumbling behind her -- like lightning, but somehow off. She turned to see what the noise was, but was caught off guard by the wobbling, pendulous motion of her huge tits -- the hell? I've always been flat-chested, it's why no guys will date me, how did I get these? They look great, but they're a bit excessive -- yeah, her huge tits, that always got in the way, always got her unwanted attention from boys, when all she -- my name is Julia, right? Of course, how could I forget something so basic -- wanted to do was seduce the head cheerleader, or get pounded with a strap-on from a punky art student grrrl. Well, hopefully she'd get her chance here, wherever "here" was.
Finally, brushing her silky brown hair out of her eyes, Julia managed to look up. She was at the edge of a ridgetop, overlooking a shallow valley stretching a few hundred yards and ending in another row of hills to the left, and the forest to the right. In the middle of the hollow sat two women, not moving much -- as dazed as she was. She quickly recognized the face of the hulking blonde slowly getting to her feet, although she struggled to remember the name. The volleyball chick, it looked like, the one who had been with her. The lithe black-haired girl next to her, still asleep -- was that the geeky boy, somehow gender-swapped? Had someone else come along? She wasn't sure it really mattered. What did matter was that she find out more about this place. She got to her feet, trying to decide whether to go talk to the girls or investigate the source of the steady rumbling sound that was rapidly growing louder.
Suddenly she spotted a figure ascending the hills to the east. It was soon clear that it was a nude woman, and that her monstrous footsteps were the source of the sound -- when her treelike musclebound legs hit the grassy ground, the earth splintered and opened shallow fissures. Her whole body, veined and rippling, advertised her strength, but her femininity was nearly as exaggerated -- wide hips, an impossibly narrow waist, and tits twice the size of her head. Violet sparks constantly cracked from her fingertips, and her hair was long and black with stochastic violet streaks. But as the figure got closer, Julia found the monstrous woman had a girlish face -- a button-nose and wide, youthful features, offset only by her look of petulant anger and the glowing red irises in her wide eyes. The amazonian girl strode into the valley and neared the others, who cringed and wanted to back away but felt afraid to try even that. She loomed over the girls, showing off her gigantic height -- she must be eleven, even twelve feet tall, Julia guessed as she watched from the ridge -- and the impossibly huge cock protruding from her crotch.
"Where is Marisa?!" she half-yelled, half-shrieked. "She's going to pay . . ."
The huge girl's eyes, glowing like beacons, fixed on the blonde, who had retained Marisa's features almost unchained. Her jaw hardening with resolve, she took a step forward and reached one massive arm out to grab Marisa -- but suddenly froze. Marisa, fully standing now but still only at eye level with the huge woman's cock, had one arm outstretched, palm outward, as if to signal halt! -- and the woman was actually obeying. After a few moments her hand moved upwards, gently stroking that cock's huge length, engorging it until it came up to the huge girl's chin and was almost as tall as Marisa. All the while she was whispering something that Julie couldn't hear. Julie knew she shouldn't, that she was taking a risk, but she clambered down from the ridgetop and crept closer until she could understand Marisa's words.
". . . you know she's Marisa. I'm not Marisa, my name is Jade. Marisa hates you, but I love you. Therefore I can't be Marisa. You're angry, you're not thinking clearly. You have to change our bodies so you won't be confused. Then you can extract your revenge."
Julia felt sick. She knew Marisa was lying. If there was really mistaken identity there would be panic, but "Jade" was calm. She still remembered what Marisa was like -- lying was as natural as breathing for her, and the girl almost always had the grace to pull it off. That's how the three had come together in the first place, and why they found themselves here. It was all based on a web of lies from Marisa, driven by a revenge motive Julia didn't understand. Apparently Kennedy had loved Marisa, and that had made her angry. If anyone had loved Julia, even if she hadn't been interested, she would have felt flattered, and would have tried to be nice. How often do you find out that you brighten someone's day by being there, after all? But Marisa had been selfish. She deserved her comeuppance, but she wouldn't get it now -- somehow she had power over the behemoth that Julia now somehow recognized, despite all the changes, as Kennedy. And Marisa was using it to punish Jade, the sweet, former geek-boy who had done nothing wrong except to be hetero and to believe something Marisa Frost said. And, she concluded as she backed away from Kennedy's hulking, purple-spark-crackling form, she was utterly helpless to do anything about it.
Kennedy suddenly sprung to life again, red eyes smoldering. Almost instantly, the two girls at her feet began to exchange bodies. Marisa grew a couple of inches in height, lost a bit of muscle tone, and her ponytailed blonde hair exploded into a long, black and lustrous mane. Her wide-eyed, pouty face melted and reformed, capturing for herself the ethereal beauty of Jade's high cheekbones, full lips and captivating green eyes. She quickly turned and left the scene. The sleeping girl she left behind gained neo-Marisa's huge tits, her expressive heart-shaped face, and her ponytail. The girl who was now Marisa began to stir; her teased-out eyelashes began to stir, and after a few tentative blinks her cornflower-blue eyes fully opened. They soon dilated in horror, as she realized that the angry giant amazon-girl was staring directly at her.
"Marisa, you're about to die."
"But -- I'm not Marisa --" she sputtered in Marisa's voice.
She shrank back, knowing the futility of the gesture. Even if Kennedy hadn't been controlled, there was no way to prove she wasn't Marisa. Already Marisa's memories were beginning to leak into her mind. So was another feeling whose source she couldn't guess, but which was rapidly colonizing her mind -- a deep conviction that any punishment was condign for the crimes she had committed, and she deserved whatever pain Kennedy could dish out. She tried to deny it, telling herself that she had only been a minor accomplice; but even that had caused her months of guilt that had eaten away at her resistance. As the new thoughts swept over her, Marisa's expression changed from fear to utter reverence.
Kennedy hardly noticed. She took one step to close the gap, and then her ever-expanding monster cock, at least three feet long with a cockhead the size of a softball. was pushing insistently against Marisa's delicate lips. She vainly struggled to engulf even half of the head. An impatient Kennedy pushed down Marisa's shoulders for leverage, sending the girl's feet several inches into the ground, and then thrust her massive hips forward , badly stretching and tearing the blonde's throat. Her screams were largely muffled by the huge cock in her throat, but the tears furiously running down her cheeks told a painful story. Kennedy savored the ultimate defeat of her nemesis as she slid her monstrous, still-growing cock back up Marisa's delicate throat and shoved it in again.
"What's the matter? Am I too big for you?" she chirped. "I'm just getting started. My cock's just going to keep growing and soon it'll be destroying your pussy. You'l be begging for mercy, but I won't give it, because you never gave it to me, when I did nothing to you. Eventually you'll hemorrhage and die a gruesome death. You won't be missed. But, for the moment, I have a special treat for you."
The giant girl stopped in mid-thrust. Her cock slackened a bit, pulling back up Marisa's ravaged throat. Her hands moved up to hold Marisa's head in place in a rather painful grip. Kennedy gave a deep sigh, and few seconds later, yellow liquid began running in streams from Marisa's mouth. The girl instinctively tried to get free from the foul-tasting piss, but Marisa's grip held firm, as more and more of the liquid was forced down her throat as if from a hose. Kennedy merely smirked as Marisa desperately writhed under her, convinced she was going to drown. Just before Marisa passed out, Kennedy slowly withdrew her cock, then continued pissing for a while on Marisa's naked breasts, which heaved wildly as she choked on the liquid. By now her cock was so large she was having difficulty holding it with one hand. Marisa was truly frightened to see the almost basketball-size cockhead positioned at her pussy and the nearly four feet of treelike cock behind it. She barely had time to comprehend what was about to happen before Kennedy, with a wild howl, begin to push.
Meanwhile, Julia was resolutely walking away. She couldn't stand to watch the gruesome scene, so she set out in hopes of finding something or someone to take her mind off what was happening. She was excited to hear footsteps behind her, hoping to find a new lover. But that excitement turned to disgust when she turned around and saw Jade rapidly approaching her.
"Just go away --" she began. But Jade had already closed the distance between them. She touched one hand to Julia's heaving left breast, and it was as if Julia was paralyzed. Her touch, simple as it was, seemed so perfect, so fulfilling.
"I know how you feel about me," Jade started, seeming apologetic.
"You're a monster. You had no right."
Jade sighed, even as she moved her other hand into Julia's folds, delicately probing. "I didn't want to sacrifice him -- I mean, her. I didn't. I'm just trying to serve our Goddess and I know I can do so much better than she could but -- but -- maybe I'm wrong, maybe I really am just a monster. I don't know what to do anymore!"
Quite suddenly, tears began to well up in Jade's eyes. Julia had no idea whether they were genuine, but empathy and instinct compelled her to reach out an arm to comfort her. Before she knew what was happening, they were locked in an embrace on the hillside grass, their tits delightfully mashing together as their lips soulfully met. As the fake Marisa's screams echoed through the valley, the two girls rubbed against each other, hearing nothing but each others' moans and utterly lost in the heightened sensations of their own new forms.