NOTE: To keep the story about You, we will use [You] in place of your name.
"Good morning, [You]!," you hear from your bedroom. Who was in your room? More importantly, how!? You rushed awkwardly out of the bathroom to see a young woman standing there patiently, her arms crossed under her bust. She was a little taller than you (5'6") and much curvier. She was wearing a band t-shirt for a band you never heard of under a nice leather coat that hung open. The shirt was tight and molded to her large breasts (D-cups) and her round potbelly, which muffin topped over the top of her tight jeans. The denim clung to wide hips you could tell sported a plump rump and a thick thighs. She was pretty chubby (170 lbs.), something you didn't quite mind. She had pretty face and wore black rimmed glasses. She brushed one of her long, scarlet lock from her face with a smirk.
"Who are you?" you accuse in soft voice, one you aren't used to being yours.
"My name is Amelia," she said. "Or that girl you led on last night only to ditch for a big titted blond. And later threw up on and called 'a big, fat fucking ginger hipster'."
"I . . . I don't remember any of that," you said, feeling bad.
"That doesn't make it any better," she laughed. "In fact, it makes it worse."
"That's not what I meant! Look, I'm really really sorry," you plead. "But I don't remember anything from last night. You can't punish me for something I didn't know I was doing! Wait, you did do this to me right?"
"Pfft, of course I did. I'm a witch," she smirked as she strode over to you. She stood in front of you for a moment and then, suddenly, palmed your small breasts. You gasped in shock and tried to cower away, but she pushed herself into you and pinned you between her and the wall. Under normal circumstances, this would be quite exciting. Now though, it was terrifying. She slid her hand behind you and grabbed your butt, making you squirm again in the process.
"So jumpy," she laughed. She moved her face inches from yours. "Oh and I can punish you. I can do anything I want with you."
"W-what are y-you going to d-do to me?" you whimper.
"That's a good question," she said, releasing you and stepping away.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author
