Jersey pretended to be unaffected by the knowledge that her current ‘life’ would end, but Callie could tell that there was buried hesitation she was stubbornly hiding from her best mate. Unfortunately, under such concentrated obfuscatory effort there was very little she could do about it, not with her being as busy as she was trying to piece together her own life.
While ‘Callie Brambell’ didn’t have lingering problematic attachments, she lacked any useful ones either. She’d graduated highschool with similar grades and test scores to Catherine O’Neill but she was otherwise bereft of resources. Possessing only a transfer degree from a community college, it would be a struggle to find work that could support both women on the meager per-hour wages available to highschool graduates, but her evident absence of any parents meant that Callie would find it difficult to go back to university, either. As prohibitively expensive as higher education could be in the US, she would need to accept an aid and loan package that necessarily included residence on campus or she would never be able to afford to advance her degree, but that option also prevented her from helping Jersey with any of her living arrangements.
Assuring her that it would be fine, her bestie did her best to convince Callie that she would be able to transfer her current occupational skills to her new identity and so pull down the same sort of salary that April May had been. Of course Callie held a healthy skepticism, but having her official ‘residence’ on campus didn’t mean she needed to stay there the whole time and she’d have an excuse to visit frequently in the form of Xena, which ultimately meant that Genie would be able to monitor both of them without needing to expose herself to being seen in public (and thus complicate the Veil’s enforcement of wish-granting secrecy).
Unwilling to burn a wish on financial security nor depend entirely on Jersey’s pocketbook, Callie accepted that her once-abandoned degree was likely her best bet. Naturally she’d still have to progress through undergrad again, but her bestie’s desire to ‘start over’ helped smooth out her transition back into academia. Despite the very late start to the quarter she was easily able to secure a last-minute admission that Genie had magically massaged from a ‘prior application’ Callie had allegedly made the year before; once the idea was inside the Veil however, it did its best to facilitate that sequence of events.
Jersey, which Callie discovered was a cute diminutive ostensibly born from a mispronunciation of her bestie’s new forename ‘Jessie’, settled into a decent flat only a short jog away from the commuter railway into the city; the convenience of transportation allowed easy visits without requiring the purchase of a new vehicle to replace the one she’d burnt, and the forty-five minutes she spent on the train was generally enough time to review her readings and bang out the rather rote homework Callie’s classes expected of her.
At first things seemed to be going swimmingly; Callie was getting along fine at school while Xena and Jersey acclimated to sharing the same flat, and Genie’s occasional presence ensured that nothing went wrong. The smooth change of pace appeared to be doing wonders for Jersey in particular; evidently her relationship with Mark had caused her far more stress than either had believed as her almost-youthful glow shined steadily brighter as the weeks went on.
Still, not everything was going exactly to plan, and the roadbumps revealed themselves in strange ways.
It started innocuously enough, amounting to a handful of somewhat technical questions that she wouldn’t have thought twice about if anyone else had been asking.
At some point over the first few weeks, Jersey had become interested in the mechanics of streaming online, a pseudo-hobby that Callie happened to know a great deal about on account of her brief foray into being a live-drawing streamer. A few innocent questions regarding platforms and software preferences slowly evolved into more-complicated discussions of bitrate, noise gates, lighting and the like. Callie had assumed it was a passing fascination, but Jersey seemed increasingly concerned about minutiae that would’ve been unimportant from a casual interest perspective. Rightly concluding that her bestie was attempting to launch her own channel, Callie still found the shorter girl strangely evasive when it came to what her username would be or what content she was planning to upload.
Discovering her secret was something of an accident, and one that filled Callie with conflicting emotions.
Having finished with her classes early on account of an absent professor, she’d decided to skip over to her bestie’s as soon as possible. Upon entering the flat with the spare key she’d been given, she was surprised to find Xena curled up on a bed set just outside Jersey’s room as though the fuzzy princess were waiting for the other girl to wake from an afternoon nap. Assuming at first that she would let sleeping dogs lie, she became concerned when she heard strange noises coming from inside the room.
“Jersey?” she called out hesitantly as she rapped gently on the door.
There was no response, though the odd sounds continued unabated.
“Are you in there?” she tried again at a much louder volume. Gripped by a growing worry, she took the door by its handle. “I’m coming in, okay?”
Stepping hesitantly into the room, she was struck by a half-dozen details all at once: the carefully-arranged lighting, the blur of text scrolling rapidly down a vertical monitor, the recording light above a professional-quality camera, the collection of sex toys spread out along the surface of the desk, and the breathy moaning coming from the bed.
Oblivious to the rest of the world, Jersey lay facing towards the camera, propped up on a number of pillows to elevate her upper body; naturally the the stream chat had the perfect view between her spread thighs and amazing rack, the latter of which looked massive in contrast to her modest, somewhat-petite frame. Gasping and mewling, she stroked her soft chest in a steady rhythm, her delicate fingers having seized hold of her nipples, pawing at them in search of a boob-focused climax. An insistent hum buzzed between her legs, the vibrator largely ignored as it worked autonomously; evincing her clever ingenuity, the pulsing seemed to strengthen just briefly whenever a colorful superchat flashed on screen, the chatroom delighting in their chance to press that particular button.
Drenched in the sweet smell of her sex, the atmosphere of the room drew Callie in. Crossing the threshold before she’d even made a conscious thought, she closed the door behind her, already divesting herself of her clothing. Enticed by the lascivious cries, her autonomic responses overrode her own better judgement as she knelt on the bed next to her very best friend having already risen to the occasion. Somewhere in the back of her mind she was dimly aware that her upper torso (and thus her face) was out of view of the camera, but that seemed less important than gagging Jersey with the desire she’d inflicted.
An interrupted squeak of surprise sounded almost like a concerned little “moo” as she stuffed herself between Jersey’s pillowy-soft lips. Gently taking hold of a handful of hair near the root, her practiced and careful technique held her bestie steady as she fed her an enormous length of cock, inch by inch; a dutiful partner, Jersey swallowed all of it without complaint, her eyelashes fluttering when Callie hit the back of her throat, as though the shorter girl were the one being serviced.
Perhaps Callie should’ve been more alarmed than she was, both by Jersey’s prurient siren-call as well as her own dubious behavior, but all she could think about in the moment was how gorgeous the sweet girl was, and how cute she looked with her plump pink lips wrapped around her shaft. Grunting her approval, she buried herself all the way to the hilt, shooting a very-dense snack down the other woman’s throat.
Once she’d came, the fog of her arousal lifted enough to allow her brain to function somewhat properly, and she was present-enough to wrap-up the cam show as its out-of-view ‘surprise guest’. Despite having enjoyed her own orgasm, Jersey still wasn’t satisfied once the cameras were off, and her wordless pleas obliterated Callie’s sense of restraint entirely; still fearful enough of potential consequences to avoid folding the other woman like a lawn chair, she directed her ardour instead towards Jersey’s tits, passionately thrusting between them in a bid to clear her head and ease some of the pressure in her balls.
As she painted the other girl’s chest and neck with her cum, Callie struggled to decide which was more strange: the pleasant vanilla scent to the thick fluid, or the fact that Jersey had clearly had her own boobgasm as like the taller girl had been railing her pussy all along. Not that she minded, obviously; it was somewhat empowering to know she’d still helped her bestie reach a satisfying conclusion, but the sheer made-for-sex vibe the shorter girl was putting out made it hard to think in her presence.
Thankfully Genie came around after they’d seen to the cleanup, and though her arrival postponed a very necessary if extremely awkward conversation, it at least helped shed some light on what was happening.
“I don’t pretend to be an informed scholar of every type of sorcery,” the dark-haired woman began once they’d all congregated in the main area of the flat, “but as both a djinn and a sorcerer myself, I think I have a much broader view than most modern practitioners.”
“You’re a sorceress too?” Jersey wondered aloud.
The shorter girl’s breathier timbre and flashier style made her seem much-more airheaded than she’d been even two weeks prior; obviously she was following-along with the conversation just fine, but between the innocent tone of her voice and her big, cow-eyed stare, a casual onlooker could be forgiven for using the word ‘bimbo’ to describe her ⸻ as long as they weren’t within reach of Callie, anyway.
“I am, but I’m much-less practiced as a sorcerer than as a djinn,” Genie explained, entertaining the brief aside. “Some of what I can tell you is concrete detail from my own experiences, but the rest of it is closer to informed guesses than anything else. I would suggest you take my words with a grain of salt and carefully monitor the situation yourselves.”
“Of course,” Callie nodded, shooting the occasional worried glance in Jersey’s direction. Feeling extremely guilty for her nonconsensual behaviour, she couldn’t help but claim fault. “So … what’s wrong with me?”
“There’s nothing wrong with either of you,” Genie told her, denying the other woman’s uncharitable assumptions. “This is simply a natural progression of both Jersey’s wishes as well as her own personal inclinations. Obviously the Veil had a hand in providing appropriate … employment to explain her cashflow, but her enthusiastic participation is her own choice.”
“You knew about this?” the taller girl growled, an accusatory venom dripping from her fangs.
“I told you two I’d be keeping an eye on you, didn’t I?” the djinn shrugged, unimpressed with her threatening tone.
“What’s wrong with being a sex worker, anyway?” Jersey rejoined, the corners of her plump lips turned down in a rather-cute pout.
“Nothing,” Callie answered seriously, “I’m just frustrated that the Veil gave you such a dangerous and potentially-unstable job compared to your old one, and I’m worried about the … ⸻ uh, the other effects.”
She liked to believe she had as much self-control as the next person, and she’d successfully kept herself from forcing her way into an entanglement with her bestie for years; to have all of that restraint suddenly overwritten was more than a little concerning, and her growing sense of guilt worried that if she walked-in on Jersey at work again she might not be able to stop herself from doing something much more serious.
And her bestie would hate that, wouldn’t she? As good of friends as they were, she didn’t deserve to be assaulted, or shackled to Callie by obligatory offspring. Assuming that unthinkable scenario was even possible of course, but she didn’t doubt that the desire to be eminently capable of having children would’ve been included somewhere within the other girl’s wishes.
“That’s the sorcery I’m not well-versed in,” Genie answered easily, though a troubled expression creased her brow. “Normally with the sorts of magic I’m familiar with there’s a long tradition of sorcerers involving themselves with a number of concubines for various practical functions, but the external aid to a sorcerer usually ends there. For many reasons practitioners of magic are secretive by nature, both as a form of defense and the consequences of working within the Veil, so it’s not common to involve any assistants beyond the links provided by the aforementioned concubinage.”
“I’m at a loss as to what sorcerers have to do with us, though,” Jersey interjected. “Are you saying we have some kind of … ⸻ one of those links to you?”
Turning to hold her gaze, a meaningful sentiment passed between the djinn and the shorter girl, some sincere emotion that Callie couldn’t fathom carried in that one look. There was a hesitation there, but also a queer sort of longing that the taller girl couldn’t decide if it existed purely in Jersey’s eyes or if it was, instead, some sort of mutual interest.
“... Yes,” Genie admitted, the assertion causing the smaller girl to blush a deep red, “but that’s not the sort of link I’m talking about. In many ways it’s much-more intimate, and perhaps a great deal more-permanent.” Searching for a useful metaphor, she indicated Xena by patting the princess between her fuzzy triangle ears. “Take your companion here, for instance. Would you say you share a strong bond with her?”
“A lifelong one, even,” Callie agreed, sort-of understanding the direction the dark-haired woman was gesturing in. “She’s like my second-best friend.”
Jersey gave her a questioning look as if to ask who the first was, but the taller girl ignored it as her own complexion became remarkably more peach-coloured.
“And while perhaps not entirely subservient in nature, this bond is often described as being between mistress and pet, is it not?”
“Sure,” Callie allowed.
“I think that’s what we’re seeing here. The phenomenon tends to be more localized to witches than other groups, but the concept of a ‘familiar’ is certainly more cross-discipline than that.”
“A ‘familiar’?” Jersey echoed, trying to understand. “Like a bound servant or guardian or something?
“Just so,” the djinn replied. “I hadn’t intended to create such a link at the time, but it appears that while my wish-granting power was the catalyst, you two shaped the contract on your own.”
It took her a moment to come to grips with the odd assertion, but Callie could recall a similar clause she’d spoken aloud at some point back when her memory was still hazed. She’d assumed that Jersey would need to be the one actually making the wishes, but Genie had evidently maneuvered the taller girl into providing one of her own.
“So you tricked me,” Callie growled, eyeing Genie with a hard stare. “You cheated at our game and wrung a wish out of me.”
“I didn’t cheat,” the djinn returned, a wounded tone to her voice. “If you want to blame someone’s cunning, then the fault rests squarely on the former April’s shoulders.”
Casting her gaze back to Jersey, Callie couldn’t help but feel that her innocent, wide eyes and slightly-parted lips were the face of an entirely-clueless woman, and to suggest that she had been the architect seemed to be an incredible stretch. Caught-up in her frustration with Genie, she very nearly voiced that comment aloud before she realised part of the notion was separate from her own internal evaluation.
Understanding settling around her shoulders like a mantle, Callie began to see why her subtly-bimbofied bestie might need a guardian, and if Jersey was a sorceress then her power to draw-in the taller girl made much more sense.
“Okay,” she sighed, letting the conversation progress, “let’s say we’ve entered some kind of ‘familiar pact’. What does that mean? What should we do about it?”
“As I understand it, the relationship has some strengths as well as some benefits that might seem like drawbacks when improperly applied,” Genie cautioned, working off what knowledge she had. “Instinctually knowing a partner’s needs can be quite a powerful boon, but the subsequent urge to satisfy them isn’t without its inconveniences.”
“As we’ve seen,” Callie muttered; despite the explanation absolving her of the way she’d pounced on Jersey, she couldn’t forgive herself for her aggression. A ‘magical urge’ was all fine and well, but she believed that her inability to resist it spoke to a fundamental character flaw ⸻ and if she was supposed to be her bestie’s ‘guardian’, it was also a liability.
Plus … Jersey had to resent it, hadn’t she? Being used as an outlet for Callie’s sexual desire, treated more as an object than as a person; viewing the problem in that light, her self-directed chastisement slowly sharpened into self-disgust. This story is hosted at g.com.
You know it’s not like that, her inner monologue chided in a familiar-yet-not voice, strikingly at-odds with her own thoughts. She’s not helpless; if she didn’t want it, she would’ve communicated so.
The revelation made a certain sense, but it felt like she was arguing with someone other than herself, who dismissed her self-debasement in a mistakenly-kind appraisal. Claiming fault anyway and hating herself even more for trying to wash away deathly serious concerns of consent, she wasn’t aware she’d started growling audibly until the other two women in the room fixed her with worried looks.
Feeling thoroughly ashamed, she quieted as she looked away.
“Is the pact dangerous?” Jersey piped-up, perhaps out of a desire to cover for her bestie’s clear discomfort, or maybe to search for the source of it.
“Not intrinsically so,” Genie replied. “In fact, it will probably prove to be quite advantageous for as long as the two of you maintain your close relationship.”
“We’re not in a relationship,” Callie blurted out, mortified that the djinn had either misconstrued their friendly affection, or had otherwise stated aloud the romantic feelings that she’d intended to keep hidden. “We’re just good friends.”
“... I see,” the dark-haired woman hedged, glancing at Jersey’s darkening expression. “Then as long as you two remain ‘good friends’, there should be no trouble.”
An awkward tension grew in the room after the mention of ‘good friends’, and without any more useful questions ⸻ or useful answers, in Genie’s case ⸻ the conversation ultimately dropped with at least two of the party left feeling quite unsatisfied.
As the weekend was just starting and Callie didn’t have any pressing assignments, Genie cautioned her to spend the night. At first the taller girl didn’t want to since she couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t ‘give in’ to another compulsion, but the djinn offered her own committed observation. Assuming that having a chaperone (so to speak) would keep her from doing anything untoward, she eventually relented after Genie insisted that she be allowed to monitor the progression of Jersey’s wish out of concern for the smaller girl’s safety.
The idea that her bestie could be some kind of sorceress was a complicated subject, and the further knowledge that she’d chosen Callie as a familiar had to have been an accident or some mistake made by the wish. That reason more than anything was why she had been willing to stay the night, in hopes that Genie’s supervision would unravel why the arrangement had come about.
Once they knew where the pact came from, it meant they could break it, and Jersey would be freed from the risks of Callie’s gross libido.
As the evening wore on the awkward tension refused to fade and so most of the conversation in the flat was directed towards Xena. Naturally the fluffy princess didn’t mind her role, but her inability to provide her own words beyond the occasional yelp or grumble meant the one-sided talks soon petered out.
Eventually Xena required a trip out to the yard and Genie graciously offered to be the one to take her; finally left alone in the house, Jersey took the opportunity to broach the sensitive issue of the bedroom incident.
“I’m not upset about what happened if that’s what you’re worried about,” she told the taller girl earnestly as she launched directly into the heart of the matter. “I was surprised at first, yes, but I very much enjoyed myself and I would like to hope that you did too.”
“Of course I did,” Callie mumbled, still feeling incredibly awkward despite the other woman’s express admission of acceptance. “That’s kind of the problem, isn’t it? “
“I don’t see a problem with two consenting adults behaving as they’d like,” Jersey argued.
“But you didn’t say so at the time,” the taller girl countered.
“Hard to say anything with you stuffed down the back of my throat, innit?” the shorter girl smirked conspiratorially.
“You know what I mean,” Callie huffed, irritation and embarrassment warring on her face. “You’re absolving me of my crime ex post facto, which doesn’t make it okay that I didn’t get permission first.”
“Surely I’m the only qualified arbiter in this trial,” Jersey retorted, pushing back against the other girl’s overly-strict self-criticism. “Even if I agreed that you sprung the first one on me, you can’t argue that I didn’t have all the time in the world to tell you ‘no’ during the second.”
“If you were even allowed to decline in the first place,” the taller girl muttered, voicing the source of her unease. “Genie said as much, right? The whole mistress–familiar bond thingy could’ve forced you to accept it.”
“It’s just as likely that it demanded your participation as well,” Jersey replied smoothly, though there was an odd edge to her tone. “As I understand it, the better explanation is that you were pushed to act in consideration of my needs.”
“Don’t give me that,” Callie scoffed. “It’s impossible to claim that I’m not the one who initiated, and it’s ridiculous to suggest that the magic compelled me to do something I’ve been thinking about for years.”
Even that small admission felt like she was selfishly pouring her heart out to Jersey, and the necessity of it tore her up inside. If she were ever to confess her feelings for the other girl, she wanted it to be part of a much more romantic gesture, not as an apology for her assault. As it was, the conflation of the two only served to highlight how predatory her unrequited interest really was, and the thought of it disgusted Callie; no doubt Jersey felt the same way deep-down and her mistaken defense of the taller girl’s actions were motivated purely by the smaller girl’s selfless heart.
This wasn’t the first time Jersey had wasted her time consoling Callie after all, and the imposition weighed heavily on her mind. She hated taking advantage of her bestie, yet paradoxically she couldn’t seem to stop.
Still, the other girl clearly remained committed to her caregiver role. Unwilling to entertain the taller girl’s stubbornness any longer, Jersey put her foot down.
“At the risk of unintentionally communicating something I don’t intend,” she began, “I’ve been having similar thoughts about you for just as long. What happened in the bedroom was a wonderful reenactment of my dream scenario both in terms of kink and participants, and I refuse to accept any alternative interpretation that permits you license to whip yourself over it.”
The blunt assessment enflamed a familiar feeling in her chest, a tightness that made her feel like the other girl had gripped her heart with her slender fingers and squeezed with all her might. Overtaken by romantic panic, she fought against her desire to interrogate the smaller girl’s claim lest she discover what it was she worried about ‘unintentionally’ communicating; after such a powerful statement, she’d just about die if the other woman followed it up with a concrete denial of romantic intention.
“Then let’s leave it at that,” Callie finally managed in a gruffer tone than she’d meant to employ. “It’s getting late.”
“I suppose it is,” Jersey agreed unhappily; if she’d had more to say, however, it was interrupted by the return of Xena and Genie and so she reluctantly dropped the conversation.
Committed to avoiding further discussion on the subject, the taller girl excused herself to the bathroom to clean her much-sharper chompers, wasting as much time as she could in the hopes that Jersey would go to bed without trying to continue their awkward argument. Evidently she was successful, as when she eventually exited the smaller girl had already vacated the common area.
Left with little else to do, Callie unfolded the sofa in the main room, taking half of the stow-away mattress and leaving the rest to Genie.
At one point in time, sleeping next to such a profoundly gorgeous woman might have been a source of apprehension for the taller girl, but now that her body wasn’t so immediately repulsive the accompanying anxiety was much harder to summon. Still, it was impossible to deny that the djinn had a certain gravity to her, and Callie found herself struggling to resist that pull.
“You don’t have to,” Genie said quietly, shifting from where she’d been lying on her back to turn towards the other girl. “And as I’ve said before, I’m not offended by the thought; you’re quite attractive yourself.”
“Now that Jersey’s spiced me up, sure,” Callie grumbled. “A bit like falling for your own sculpture, isn’t it?”
“The whole point of depicting ‘beauty’ is to sculpt that which is attractive to the artist, is it not?” Genie challenged, effortlessly defeating the flawed argument. “And no, I don’t mean your body as it is now; I’m talking about you, personally.”
“That makes even less sense,” she contended. “I’m not that great of a person. I’m selfish, cruel, controlling, opinionated … ⸻ there’s nothing here to like.”
“I will certainly agree that you’re opinionated,” Genie allowed, “but it’s not a negative trait; you like what you like, and having a critical eye is a great deal more useful than being blind to the qualities of beauty ⸻ even if you are quite myopic when it comes to seeing your own virtues.”
“There would need to be virtues in the first place,” Callie snipped back.
“And there are many,” the dark-haired woman asserted confidently. “You’re patient, considerate, and perhaps self-sacrificing to a rather concerning degree. Maybe you’re no stranger to your temper or occasional impulsiveness, but I’ve yet to see you do any damage with either.”
“You weren’t here earlier,” she shot back, just as frustrated as when Genie had told her that she possessed a ‘good heart’. “I didn’t even think once about what Jersey might prefer when I walked-in on her. I just … took what I wanted, without even asking her.”
“And are you sure that lack of hesitation isn’t what Jersey wanted?”
Callie fixed her with a disbelieving stare. “I know you’re hundreds of years old or whatever, but surely you’re not so old-fashioned that you’d excuse that.”
“Well-over a thousand years old, actually,” Genie informed her, “and no, I’m not inclined to forgive that serious of a transgression, if you had actually committed it. In fact, I think you’ve mistaken the guilty party: under the mistress–familiar pact, it’s far more likely that Jersey compelled you.”
“Have you lost the plot?” she scoffed, shaking her head. “I was already interested in a physical relationship with her. There’s no way she ‘compelled’ me to seize something I'd been dreaming about for half a decade.”
“And you’re unwilling to consider a mutual interest,” Genie stated rather than asked.
“Obviously,” Callie retorted, rolling her eyes. “It’s not like things fell apart with Mark overnight, alright? There were a dozen chances over the years for her to escape into my arms if she so chose, but she never took that leap.”
“You’re underestimating her own hesitance,” the dark-haired woman informed her. “Perhaps she’s worried she’s not good enough for you.”
“Like hell!” she laughed, finding the notion utterly ridiculous. “You don’t have to make shit up to try to get me to feel better about myself. As I see it, my humility is basically the only thing keeping me in check; once I start getting prideful opinions of myself, I’m going to start thinking I’ve ‘earned’ things I haven’t, and then I’ll just become ….”
She trailed off, too depressed by the thought to want to finish it.
“There’s no danger of that,” Genie promised her, a queer sincerity to her muted alto. “You’re nothing like your father.”
“But I’ve known far too many men like him,” the djinn sighed, her own mood starting to slip into darker reaches. “We bear similar scars, you and I. It angers me that I can so clearly see the marks he left on you.”
“It’s fine,” she said, knowing it wasn’t even as she waved away the other woman’s concern. “He’s dead now, anyhow. Passed at the ripe old age of sixty-seven, when I was still a teenager ⸻ the first time, I mean.”
“It is regrettable that he did not receive his due far earlier in life,” Genie spat, utterly disgusted with a man she’d never met. “Perhaps the only worthwhile thing he’ll leave behind is his beautiful daughter.”
“Come off it,” Callie whinged, blushing nonetheless. “Obviously I don’t think I’d ever be as bad as him, but I’d never forgive myself if I hurt anyone like that ⸻ and if I had any more wishes, they would be to ensure that no one like him ever harms anyone else ever again.”
“Sadly, that’s far beyond my reach,” the djinn sighed again. “I’m doing the best that I believe I can with my little project, but the rate that I can even try to put more good into the world is somewhat limited.” Biting down on her own self-criticism, she held the taller girl’s gaze. “Still, the fact that you’d even make the request reassures me that I made the correct choice to send you my bottle.”
“Stop glazing me,” she whinged, breaking away from the other woman’s intense stare.
“I’m not,” Genie persisted, then offered her a lascivious grin. “Or not yet, anyway.”
“I know you’re not serious,” Callie protested. “All these unearned compliments are just a ‘service’, right? Gratis for your mistress.”
“They are my very real thoughts,” the dark-haired woman countered. “Half the fun of this job is treating good people to some duly-deserved rewards, but you refuse to even admit that you are one.”
“I know my rotten personality inside-out,” she stated flatly, denying the other woman’s claims. “There’s nothing ‘beautiful’ or ‘attractive’ about it.”
“Then fine,” the djinn groaned, rolling her eyes, “I’ll play your game: I want you for your body, Callie.”
Though she was far more willing to believe that assertion, she still found herself hung-up on her own desires. Of course her body was attractive: she had great tits, a cute face, hips that gave her a rather sexy strut when she wanted to lean into it ⸻ but to Callie, it still didn’t feel like a woman’s body on account of the fact that she was the one inside it, her carnal tastes beholden to a part of her anatomy that thousands of radical extremists would claim excluded her from a feminine gender entirely.
“You don’t want all of it,” she grumbled miserably. “Just the nice parts.”
“Callie, please,” Genie implored gently, “I’ve sired over a dozen children with my human alone. Surely you don’t think I’m any less of a woman for it, right?”
“Not you, no,” she admitted. “But you don’t have yours all the time, I’m guessing. There’s little difference between giving yourself a cock with magic and putting on a magical strap-on that gets people pregnant.”
“If the permanency is a problem for you, I can similarly alter yours to only be present when you have need of it.”
“It’s the principle of the thing,” Callie started, struggling to communicate an important concept. “I don’t want any magical shortcuts or conveniences, alright? A couple million women just like me don’t get to engage in any of this, and I’m not going to insult them with some middle-of-the-road, rabbit-in-a-hat trick just so I don’t have to look at my bulge whenever it’s not inside somebody ⸻ and I’m rather fond of that bulge anyway, thank you very much, but that’s exactly my point.”
An angry sigh hissed between her teeth as she trailed off; raking her fingers through her silken hair, she clamped down on her tongue, wishing she’d never opened her stupid mouth in the first place.
“And what is that point?” Genie prompted, supporting her tirade rather than trying to end it.
Glowering at the other woman, she held back her heart. “You don’t want to know.”
“I assure you that I do.”
Callie shook her head obstinately. “Maybe you think that you do, or you want to give me some sort of catharsis or whatever, but you and I are entirely separate classes of ‘woman’.”
“Oh?” Genie returned coolly. “And what ‘classes’ would those be?”
“Don’t act like you're not aware,” Callie snapped. “It doesn’t matter if you’re a thousand years older than me or not, we have fundamentally different foundations and that changes everything. Regardless of what happened in your time, you got to grow up as a girl, didn’t you?”
“... Yes,” Genie admitted hesitantly before rejoining with her own sharp comeback, “but that doesn't mean it was a wholly-desirable upbringing; girls were not treated the same as boys.”
“You see?” she smirked, the flash of her teeth hiding the glint of pain in her eyes. “You make all that bluster about wanting to hear me out, but you couldn’t fucking wait to contradict me. There’s hundreds of years between here and then, but you had to deny me even that camaraderie, claiming there’s no difference in womanhood separating us in the same breath that you cast me off into some other pile of after-the-fact femininity.”
Nothing she ever did, no matter how well she applied her makeup or practiced her gait or performed all the hundred-thousand little poses that broadcast her femininity, none of it would ever forgive her for the sin of being born a man. All it took was one slight, one tiny mistake, one wrongly-held breath to remind everyone of the artifice of her gender, of how she had come to it unearned, stealing the valour of those who had suffered a girl’s proper adolescence. She ‘didn’t know what it was like’. She ‘couldn’t imagine’. She ‘was just a boy’.
She was different. Lesser. A pretender.
For her crime of circumstantial sex and the assumed gender the world had swaddled her with at birth, she would never be allowed more than a single step into womanhood. Her experiences, after all, were categorically different, absent all the pains and tortures of ‘female’ suffering.
When she had been beaten, it was as a boy.
When she had fought against her changing body, it was as a boy.
When she had been warned how to dress to keep men’s hands from her skin, it was as a boy.
When she had been raped, it was as a boy.
She could never understand what it was that little girls went through, because her hell was only adjacent. Excluded from that essential consequence of carrying an assailant’s child, her identity was slowly invalidated.
A warm touch against her skin drew her out of her wretched reverie, Genie’s fingers gently caressing her cheek.
“I’m sorry,” the djinn murmured, her voice absent any derision or doubt. “I didn’t understand.”
“No one does,” Callie smiled, staying stoic the way she’d been taught to, holding in her tears like a good boy. “I didn’t want to tell you.”
“I shouldn’t have looked,” she mumbled apologetically, fumbling for the right words.
“It’s fine,” she lied, gently pushing away Genie’s hand. “I’m not upset with you or anything.”
Rolling over, she turned away from the other woman, drawing the spare comforter up around her shoulders. There hadn’t been a ‘mood’ to begin with, but it was certainly ruined.
A rustling came from behind her, as though Genie wanted to say something else but then thought better of it at the last second.
Silence settled in around them, the deafening quiet unbearably loud.
Despite having turned down Genie’s advance, she still found her new body to be far more worked-up than normal. In a way it reminded her of the first time she went through puberty, and perhaps she was having some sort of reprise ⸻ that, or the wishes were making her stupidly horny for whatever reason. She had no idea why that would be the case of course, but given that the djinn had propositioned her she couldn’t help but wonder if there was some necessary reason; she’d pounced on Jersey with hardly any provocation, after all, and maybe Genie’s offer for sex was a way to cool her down and prevent a second attempt of the same.
It grated on her nerves that she could be seen as such a sure problem, but she was already in a horrible mood after the aborted talk with the dark-haired amazon. Feeling petulant and frustrated, she held onto her anger as she drifted off to sleep, struggling to crush it back down into her chest.
Perhaps that buried aggression was the reason another one of her strange dreams overcame her.
She felt alive with energy inside a faithful recreation of the flat, where even the couch had been unfolded into the pull-out bed to match her waking recollection. Genie slept unbothered on the other side of it, but for some reason everything felt so ridiculously out of scale, as if she had been pushed up another foot and a half in height. The monstrous metamorphosis of her dreams was so consistent that it was almost allegorical, but the wide bulk of her shadow appeared thicker than it had before. Whatever odd transformation was occurring in her nocturnal fantasies, it seemed it had yet to progress to its final stage.
Lured by the scent of her favourite prey, she abandoned the living room in pursuit of her inevitable release. Throwing open the door to the little bedroom, she ducked under the comically-short frame, wondering if her next dream would have her scraping the ceiling.
Fast asleep on the bed, the little cow hardly noticed her approach until she was already on top of her. Indulging in her heightened senses, she let the world around her blur into an indistinct haze as she satisfied herself with the buffet presented by her adorable prey: the soft silk of her hair, the sweet taste of her lips, the plush cushions of her chest. Desire enflamed by the illusion of her dreamscape, it felt as if Jersey had filled-out even more since the afternoon; it was only somewhat noticeable, but the swell of her ass was thicker and her lips somewhat more plump. As if directed by her wilder fantasies, the smaller girl’s physique moulded itself into whatever the bestial invader required, her pussy providing zero resistance beyond a comfortably-snug feeling.
Snarling in vicious delight, she helped herself to the other girl’s curves as she stuffed her full of her twitching need. Whatever surprise Jersey might’ve communicated was either muffled by the haze of sleep or stifled by her inability to do little more than moan; the latter carried inexplicably to the other room, the narrative complicating with the concerned arrival of Genie.
The djinn’s words blurred together in a jumbled mess of sound, and the wolfish Callie struggled to ascertain whether the amazon’s rapid advance into the room was aggressive or conspiratorial. Growling a warning, she sat up on her haunches, lifting the other girl off the mattress as she held her possessively against her broad chest, the mooing cow still impaled on her throbbing cock. Unwilling to even slow the pace of her fuck to deal with the unexpected intruder, she settled for her threatening rumble.
Lifting her hands slightly in a calming gesture, Genie took a few experimental steps, wary of the dream-enhanced Callie. Perhaps underestimating the length of the predator’s reach, the djinn was already within striking distance before she’d realised her mistake; indulging her eros and avarice both, Callie seized the dark-haired woman with one clawed hand and drew her perilously close to her impossibly-sharp teeth, the points glistening in the light as she grinned ⸻ and then kissed her.
The details of the dream faded into obscurity as her finer senses were replaced with impressions of animalistic sex, the mooing of her other dream-lover silenced by Genie’s natural gag. Spit-roasting the delicious morsel between them, Callie claimed the affection she’d desired, that she felt was owed to her, reveling in the taste of the djinn’s tongue and the tight grip of Jersey’s thighs against her waist as the needy cow dug in with her heels, encouraging an even rougher pace. Obliging her sorcerous mistress, she hammered her as hard as she dared with a fierceness she would’ve never tried in real life for fear of splitting her in half; goaded by the debauched fulfillment of her needs, she sank her fangs into the other amazon’s neck, losing all threads of consciousness as she melted away in pure pleasure.
Pounding her little cow as she sought to drain herself of all her stress, the pain of only hours before evaporated into the night.