Revenge of the Bridesmaids (2 page)

CHAPTER THREE

We didn't open all the clams.  Some we saved for a clambake.  The B&B's lawn had a stone fire pit, and we got a roaring blaze going and did up a rustic outdoor barbecue for the rehearsal dinner.  Brenda and Donna were hitting on the groomsmen, but Cassie stayed by my side.  I really wanted Donna, especially since I'd seen her rise from the cliff stairs like Venus on a half shell, but Cassie would do.

The groom, Chet, his short blond hair perfectly barbered—a huge departure from his sloppy mop in college—gave a speech thanking us all for coming.  "Man," Cassie whispered to me, "Lisa is such a tough cookie even Chet's stutter is gone.  The Tiger Lady won't have it."  I nodded and grinned. 

"I'm afraid of Lisa too," I whispered.

"You should be," Cassie said.  I looked over at Cassie.  I could see down her top.  No bra whatsoever, and puppies that still looked ever-sweet.  Yeah, I wanted Donna, but I wasn't foolish enough to throw away a sure thing.  Besides, who said I couldn’t have both—I’d be there two nights.  I wrapped my arm around Cassie's shoulder and pulled her close.  Cassie melted right into me.  Donna was watching us from across the crowd.  I gave Donna a wink and she blew me a kiss.  I began to think I could easily get with both of them before this wedding was over.

Chet finished up his speech.  Cassie was right.  Chet's stutter was gone.  Lisa also gave some thank-you's, and then we all circulated around the fire pit and filled our bellies with clams, burgers, and cold salads.

We were having a good time.  I found myself trying to sneak glimpses of Donna, who'd thrown a beach skirt around her hips but was still wearing the bathing suit.  The one-piece hid nothing, but Donna had nothing to hide.  Man, with that rocking bod she looked like a Marvel comic super hero.  I remembered kissing the shit out of her tight thighs when she was out from the roofie.  How many guys eat a girl out after using a roofie?  None, I bet.  I'm a prince, for sure.  There was just something about Donna's cunt that was irresistible.  I desperately wanted to get my head between those thighs again. 

My reminisces were interrupted by a rumbling in my belly.  Uh-oh.

When I clutched at my stomach and bent over slightly, Cassie put her hand on my back and asked if I was okay.

"Not sure," I said.  My bowels were turning to jelly, like I was about to have explosive diarrhea, but I didn't have the urge to go.  The jelliness just lingered there, gurgling like a soon to be active volcano—a rumbling down where my legs met, deep inside me.  My breathing became labored, and my chest felt tight.  "Oh, shit, maybe I'm allergic to something.  Does anyone else have food poisoning?"

"Oh, dear," Cassie said.  "No.  Everyone looks okay.  Let's get you to your cabin."  She held my arm close and I stared down at her tan legs and red Keds as we walked.

"Cassie," I asked, "did you poison me to get some alone time?"

"Maybe," she joked.

"I like your style, Cassie, but your plan is flawed.  I won't be able to perform."

"We'll see," Cassie said.  "I'm optimistic."

When we got to my cabin, I flopped right down on the bed.

"Do you need to use the bathroom?" Cassie asked.

"I don't think so," I croaked.  My chest felt so tight, I started to think we might have to call for an ambulance.  And the lower part of my stomach felt like it was turning to all liquid, and roiling to a boil.  Cassie kept talking to me, but I couldn't concentrate, and only caught a few words.  I was curled up in the fetal position, with my arm across my chest, and my eyes barely open.

It was getting dark outside.  Cassie turned on the night table lamp.  She pulled her smartphone out of her pocket and called someone.

"It's time," Cassie said into the phone.

CHAPTER FOUR

I didn't know how long I tossed about in my fevered state, but it couldn't have been too long.  When I snapped out of the fever, it was still dark outside my cabin window.  But was it the same night?  I looked over, and Brenda, Donna, and Cassie were sitting by my bedside, watching me intently.  It was nice that they cared.

Brenda still wore the same sundress, and Donna still had that beach skirt over her one-piece bathing suit.  Cassie wore a loose knit sweater, but underneath it was the spaghetti strap top she'd been wearing before I got sick, plus the white shorts.  Yeah, it was probably still the same night.

"Awake?" Brenda asked.  "Oh, goody.  We have something to show you."  Brenda flipped open a laptop and held it so I could see.  She played a video.  It was a mash-up of the sex videos I'd shot of me with the three of them, turn by turn.  The rapid cuts between the three sessions must have been made by one of them—I never mixed the videos.  In each of the scenes, Brenda, Donna, and Cassie were clearly out of it.  Anyone could tell they’d been drugged. 

Shit!  They knew.  They knew about the roofies.  They knew all about it.

"I'm sorry," I said—not because I was sorry, but because that’s what one says.  My voice came out thin and reedy, like I'd sucked on a helium balloon, only not as grating.  How deep was the doo-doo I was in?

"No you're not," Donna said, "but you will be."

Why was my voice so light and airy?  I lifted a hand to my throat.  Hunh?  My hand felt small, and there was something wrong with my neck.  Wait!  I didn't have an Adam's Apple!  How could that be?  I pulled my hand from my neck and stared at it.  Weird.  My hand looked tiny and girly, and pudgy with baby fat.

"I don't understand," I said.

Looking down at the bedcovers, I noticed there was a huge pillow under the sheets, over my chest.  Why would they put a pillow there?  Did it alleviate the tightness I was experiencing before I passed out?  Not really.  I felt tighter than ever there.

Yanking down the sheets, I started to cry out, but Cassie placed her hand firmly over my mouth, muffling my shout.  "Now, now," Cassie said.  "No yelling."

Two huge tits sat on my chest, as big as bowling balls.  I grabbed them and bounced them around.  They were totally real.  Whoa!  If that was the case...

My tiny hand shot down between my legs.  Holy fuck!  Instead of my cock and balls, my prized possessions, I had a furry cunt down there.

"Now, now, Sweet Pea," Brenda said.  "No playing with yourself."

"What did you do to me?" I cried in my wee, high-pitched voice.

Cassie held up the packet of supposed antiseptic she'd sprinkled on my bleeding thumb.  The writing on the side said Femnizol.  "Just a little Femnizol, is all," Cassie said.  "From the guilt-ridden makers of Rohypnol.  Revenge, served cold."

"This is illegal," I said to Cassie, the law school graduate.

"Totally," she replied.  "Just like using roofies is illegal."

"We don't have a lot of time," Brenda said.  "There's a lot to do.  For one, I won't have Amber try on my carefully crafted bridesmaid dress while she's all sweaty."

Amber—the bridesmaid I hadn't met.  Was someone else in the room, witnessing my humiliation?  I looked around.  Wasn't this embarrassing enough without a stranger present?  No one else was there.

"Where's Amber?" I asked.

"Oh, honey," Cassie cooed.  "You're Amber."

CHAPTER FIVE

Donna hauled me out of bed and into the bathroom.  All that surfing gave Donna a lot of lean muscle.  She was far stronger than me.  And taller!  Wait, I'd always been taller than her, like way taller.

Shoving me into the shower stall, Donna turned on the water full blast.  I was assaulted by ice-cold water.  "Yikes!" I cried.

"Shut up, bitch," Donna said.  "It'll warm up in a minute or two."

"Don't talk mean to me!" I pleaded.  Out of all three bridesmaids, the one I least wanted to be mad at me was Donna.  I wanted Donna to like me.  That might be impossible, now that she knew about the roofies.

"Why not?" Donna said with a smirk.  "You are a little bitch—a little roofie using bitch.  And that's one hairy cunt you've got, by the way."  The bathroom was dark, but Donna lit a candle on the sink.  Why a candle?  Was the electric out in the bathroom?  Strange.

I could feel the water growing warmer as the candle flame grew to a steady flicker, casting yellow light erratically around the bath.  "I don't want to be able to see you too well, you filthy rapist," Donna said, nodding toward the candle.

"I'm sorry."  I thought she was lying.  The candle, if anything, made the atmosphere more romantic.  But why would Donna lie?  It made no sense.

"Yeah, yeah.  Start washing yourself," she said.

"No."  They might have imprisoned my body by transforming me into a woman, but they couldn’t imprison my will.  I didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to do.  And until they turned me back, I wouldn’t want to do anything.

Donna glared at me.  "Okay.  Fine.  Have it your way."

Damn right I was going to have it my way.  This nonsense was going to stop right now.

Digging her thumbs underneath the elastic of her beach skirt, Donna eased it over her tan hips and let it drop to the floor.  God, she was so sexy.  Donna stepped out of the skirt and kicked off her rattan beach tongs. 

"Remember, this could have gone the easy route," Donna said.  She stepped into the shower stall with me.  I’d jerked off to scenarios like this a million times, although I’d never been a woman in my imaginings.  I bit my lip as Donna grabbed the bottle of body wash off the shelf and handed it to me.  "Wash," she said.

I looked up at her.  She meant business.  Out of habit, my eyes trailed down her body.  The bathing suit was getting wet again, and her rocking bod took my breath away.  The bridesmaids might have transformed my body into a woman's, but I still felt a very-male lust for Donna.  Her thighs were the most amazing thighs I had ever seen, and given the circumstances, I didn't feel the need to be circumspect with my ogling.

"Wash," Donna said again.

"No," I said.  She couldn’t make me wash, and I planned on foiling their scheme, whatever it was, at every given opportunity.

Donna came forward and spun me around so the stream of water was crashing into my eyes.  Wow, she was strong, and more to the point, I was not.  I don't know how she got any leverage on the wet shower stall floor, but she pressed me forward.  My bowling-ball breasts mashed against the shower wall.  Donna’s fist in my long hair, my face pressed forward into the shower spray.  I tried to blink away the stream of water, but that was no use.  Mouth open, filling with tinny shower water, the squeeze tube of body wash slipped from my fingers.  Donna, ever quick, snatched it in mid-air.  Her knee rammed the back of mine.  My leg buckled.  Lost my balance.  Donna squeezed body wash onto my breasts.  I wiped water from my eyes.  Donna started lathering up my breasts.  She pulled me backwards, and I could feel her bathing suit covered bosom press against my naked back.  Arousal rose up in me, but instead of getting an erection like I used to, my loins grew warm, and my skin felt more sensitive—although that might have been the water.  It was as if my whole body got aroused, as opposed to just the penis, when I was a man.

Shit. 
When I was a man. 
It hit me full force.  I was a woman now.  I started to hyperventilate.

"This is some pair of knockers you've got," Donna said.  Her hands traveled over and around my breasts, which were so big she couldn't even hold them.  They bounced and moved heavily away from her.  I couldn’t catch my breath.  Even Donna's hands were strong.  Donna mauled me with her grip.  I felt like a mere plaything in her clutches.  My breasts surely had to be clean already, but she kept rubbing and fondling them, pinching and squeezing them.

It must have been the water that made my wide nipples hard.  Holy shit!  Donna was molesting me!

"Cut it out," I said.  The room was getting steamy, and perspiration started to coat my brow.  I tried to push her soap-slickened hands away, but she was too strong.  I hated being so weak! 

"Cut it out," Donna mocked me.  Her hand clamped down on my breast while her other stroked my stomach.  "I might have said that to you, if I hadn't been roofied."  Her hips pressed against my round butt.  Water sluiced between us.  Donna's skin was slick on mine, and her bathing suit rubbed against my back.  She held me tightly.  If I still had my dick, it would be hard as steel.

"You want me, don't you?" Donna asked.  "Even though you're a woman now, you want to have sex with me."  She shook my body from side to side.  I had to turn my head to avoid the water jet pouring down.  "Admit it!"

I clenched and unclenched my fists.  I didn’t want to give Donna the satisfaction.  I didn’t want to confess how badly I wanted her.  Donna’s fingers stroked where my cock used to live, and all my resolve melted.  “Admit it,” Donna sang softly into my ear.

“Screw you.”  Donna had no right to do this.  She couldn’t take away my free will with her flickering fingers.  Oh, my, her talented flickering fingers!

“Admit it.”

Screw her, and Cassie, and Brenda.  I was my own man!  Wait, I wasn’t a man any more.

“What a sweet little pussy you have,” Donna cooed.  She knew what she was doing.  Her thighs pressed tightly against my butt, and Donna gave me a reach around that made my new cunt sing.  My jaw hung slack as my mind tried to process the onslaught of amazing new sensations.  “We took your cock away, Rapist,” Donna said.  “And even without a cock, you want me.  Admit it.  You want me.”

"I do," I whispered, not bothering to add that I didn't want it like this.  I wanted to lie with her in bed and dive between her marvelous thighs, and to bring her pleasure.  Is that so bad, to want to bring a person pleasure?  That was my main complaint about roofie-sex—I never knew if I was actually bringing my partner pleasure.

"I knew you wanted to have sex with me, even we stole you cock,” Donna said.  “If your eye prevents you from reaching heaven, you must pluck it out.  We plucked your cock, Rapist.  Your body might be different, but your eyes still have that hunger."  Wet fingers flitted about expertly.  Naked butt pressed against her strong thighs.  My palms pressed the wet shower tile, sliding along the slickness expectantly.  Donna's strong embrace was total, and left me no retreat. I wanted to tell her that I’ve always longed for her, and that I’ve worshiped her from afar, and I thought she was amazing—but my mouth just hung open. 

"You want this, don't you?" Donna whispered into my ear, her wet breasts tight against my back.

"Don't make me say it," I pleaded softly.

Her fingers brushed gently over my cunt, causing my legs to quake.  Donna's hip pressed my ass forward, spreading my cheeks, and I had no choice but to open myself up to her.  Powerful and compact, Donna's strength was undeniable, and I knew I had no choice but to surrender to her.  I wanted to surrender to her.

"You do want this," Donna said.  She traced her fingers along my folds—a sensation that was entirely new to me—and I felt myself yearning to have her inside me.  I never would have guessed that merely being touched could get me so aroused.

"I do," I whispered.  Her hand still dawdled outside me.

"You do want what?" she asked.  “Tell me what you want, my curvy little shower bitch.”

"Just fuck me already, will you?" 

Two fingers spread my cunt and pressed inside me.  It smarted and felt deliciously erotic all at once.  This woman, this powerful woman whom I'd taken advantage of, was now invading my body with her wet hand.  My jaw hung slackly as a sea of emotions and sensations cascaded through me.  My mind was a maelstrom and a blank at the same time.  All I knew was that I loved being Donna's shower bitch.

"You're an eager little slut," Donna said.  She slipped her fingers into my mouth.  “Suck on them.  Taste them.”  My hips quaked while Donna held me tight, her breasts pressing against my back, and water sluicing down over us.  I sucked on her fingers and just about lost my mind in the eroticism of it all.  I was tasting myself, and my libido ascended.  Donna whispered in my wet ear, "Such a slut you are."

I cried when her hand settled back between my legs.  My thighs quivered.  How much of this could I stand?  But Donna was gentler now, relatively speaking, and her fingers circled about.  It felt amazing.  She made my knees buckle.  I reached back and stroked her slick calf, eager to touch her in anyway.

Donna pulled my hand away.  Strong hands on my shoulders, pushing, steering, and now I was on my knees, facing her.  Donna pressed my hand into my crotch.  "Keep rubbing yourself, just like that," Donna said, making me rub myself. "Don't stop.  I want to see my sex-addict bitch drive herself crazy."

Donna was commanding and in utter control.  I had to comply.  I wanted nothing more than to comply.  I’d wished I’d seen this side of her sooner.  Donna was so sexy.  She made my body ache.  Donna smiled when I touched myself, so I touched myself more.

The shower water was scalding hot, and Donna adjusted it to be cooler.  She soaped up my enormous breasts once more while I played with myself.  It felt warm and wonderful, but I couldn’t enjoy it. 

“Please let me stop,” I pleaded.

“No.”

I was ashamed of my arousal.  Donna’s fingers glided silkily over my nipples, and my hand discovered a circular motion that my new cunt found quite pleasing.

"Umm," Donna said.  "I think you like that."

"No, I don't," I lied.

"Yeah, sure.”

I kept my gaze on her feet.  There was no way to hide my arousal from her now.  I didn't have to look her in the eyes, though.  I didn’t have to telegraph my embarrassing arousal and the titanic yearning for her that consumed my soul.

“Don’t stop,” Donna said.  “Such a little bitch you are.  A rapist-bitch.”

Grabbing shampoo from the shelf, Donna sudsed up my hair.  I continued to touch myself.  Her fingers massaged my scalp, and I got even more excited.  Still, I kept my gaze downward.  I couldn’t let Donna see how much I adored her.

"Look up at me," Donna said.  I didn't comply.  She reached down and pulled up my chin.  Her bathing suit was soaked, and she looked like a sea goddess in a layer of sealskin.  Donna's thighs were as wonderful as I remembered, and more.  For the first time, the outlines of her nipples were visible through the tight one-piece bathing suit.  She towered over me like a giant statue—majestic.  Donna sneered down at me, and I lapped it up like a dog, grateful for even a speck of attention.

My fell out as Donna pulled the straps of her bathing suit down and sprung her tits loose.  Donna had naturally dark skin, but all her surf time left her with deep tan lines.  Her breasts were the hue of heavily creamed coffee.  My hand moved more rapidly between my legs, feverishly. 

“Yeah, you want me,” Donna said.  “I knew it.  You are one lust-filled bitch.”

“No,” I said softly…and unconvincingly.

Donna continued to peel down the second-skin bathing suit, bunching it up to slide it past her hips.  When I got a glimpse of her cunt, my mouth watered.  The suit landed with a plop on the shower stall floor, and she kicked it behind her.

Pulling the showerhead out of its cradle, Donna rinsed the suds out of my hair, her hips tortuously close to my face.  My eyes were dead even with her jutting hipbones, and I ached to kiss her there.  When my hair was free of shampoo, Donna put the showerhead back in its cradle.  The streams of water bounced off her perky bosom and cascaded down to me while I knelt there, still playing with myself in front of her, as she’d commanded.  Donna became the most beautiful waterfall in the natural world.

Donna ran a hand along my temple and said, "You have to say you're sorry.  You need to apologize."

"I'm sorry," I moaned, arousal making it difficult to speak.

"No," Donna said.  "Not to me.  Apologize at the scene of the crime."  Donna lifted a leg over my shoulder.  She pressed her cunt to my face, and pulled my head to her.

She gave me what I'd wanted all along.  That beautiful cunt, where I’d trespassed and sinned, was now only inches from my lips.  Donna was brazen in her stance, and she had the most confident and self-assured cunt I’d ever seen.

"Yes Donna," I said.  “I’m sorry for what I did.”  Grabbing hold of her thigh, I kissed the inside of her lean leg,  Her skin was as smooth as her pussy.  I couldn't linger long on her gorgeous, tone leg—delightful as it was.  I had to bring my lips to hers, just had to.  She seemed to feel the same.  Donna's powerful legs flexed as she pressed her hips to me, her confident gash smiling at me sideways.  My tongue fluttered about her lips, while her delicious thigh pressed against my ear, and the shower water found its way down between us, sluicing in an erratic descent of zigs and zags.