As if driven by a large invisible hand you're propelled backwards, to land on the bed. You feel the shifting weight of your bust as the girls continue to jiggle and dance, heavily pulling at your shoulders, and reminding you that you're now a big girl.
"Blonde and Busty, just the kind of girl you used to like."
Barbara's voice comes from the air. You snarl your defiance, in what you hope is the right direction.
https://dilly-dilly-do.tumblr.com/post/1...
"Oooo, I love that look." she purrs, "On your pretty face, it'll be hard to do many threatening expressions...."
"Is that anger, ... or pouty frustration." Babs' voice almost gigglish, "I do know what the guys will assume."
"Face me..." you snarl.
Though you snatch your hand to your mouth, at the high, girlish voice that delivered the words.
"Try again..." Babs urges, "I've given you a husky smoker's voice. Still feminine, but you'll sound more ... more experienced."
You sit there, not sure what works best, petulant silence, or taking her bait. You want to cover your bust, those so-so ripe nipples, but at the same time, you don't want to give her the satisfaction of your modesty.... that you accept this body as your body.
"Don't be shy, Michael. I haven't finished, yet." She sounds slightly off, in her speech, and you realise she's typing and talking at the same time.
As you feel a warmth growing in your belly, your hands slow to your taut tummy. Barbara hums, in amusement, your gesture noticed, but doesn't comment further.
Swallowing nervously, you suspect you know what's coming next. Your pussy, starts to glisten, and you abandon the fight to feign modesty. With both hands cupped over your crotch, you scowl around the whole room hoping to show your disapproval.
"Naughty girl." Babs mocks.
You find your fingers, driven by deeper instincts than rational thoughts, as unbidden they explore your pussy.
"It wasn't just Blonde and Busty, was it .... Michaela?"
She pauses, "Michaela.. nah... You're more of a Mikki, fun-loving and experimental."
You virtually leap from the bed, as you feel the tickle of a feather brush teasingly over your lips. You can't suppress the scream you let loose, nor how sexually it sounds. Standing beside the bed, you look for the offending feather. But in a moment realise it wasn't ever really there.
"Bitch..." you snarl. True to her word, your voice does now sound less girlish and giggly. More a throaty purr.
"Okay, Mikki let's try again. It wasn't 'Bitch', was it?"
A hard edge to her question. You sincerely hoped, she hadn't heard the full list of preferences.  | Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
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