Grab 'Em by the Horns, Pt. 6

Andy faces more changes as he tries out Rob's gift for him.

***** ***** *****

Andy lay slumped across Lorraine’s soft, curvy body, his skin flushed and sticky, his breaths slow and uneven. Her thighs shifted beneath him, warm and patient, and her fingers idly grazed his lower back in quiet little circles. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should be moving. Getting up and leaving. Praying. Atoning. Something. Instead, he just...lay there.

A zipper dragged open somewhere nearby. He stirred slightly as Rob rose from the couch, brushing off his jeans, and offered Andy a calm, almost mischievous smile. “Don’t go anywhere,” he murmured, and walked into the next room.

Andy didn’t answer. His eyes were half-closed, and he could still feel Lorraine’s slickness clinging to him — wet, warm, sinful. He groaned faintly and rolled off her, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes.

What had he done?

He should be ashamed. He was ashamed. But his body, still basking in the numbing, body-clenching pleasure of his first orgasm, didn’t seem to care. Between his legs, his cock…thrummed every once in awhile, still half hard and poking immodestly through his unzipped jeans. But it was too sensitive to touch now. Footsteps returned, and a soft thunk landed on the coffee table.

“Open it.” Rob’s voice was eager, his eyes lit by something Andy couldn’t recognize.

A plain, purple cardboard box with small text sat before Andy now. Rob stood beside it, standing over him, one hand slipped lazily into the pocket of his half-zipped pants as it slipped low on the bones of his pelvis. Lorraine’s arm slid from his shoulder down his acne-pocked back, resting around the base of his spine, and the top of his ass, as she slowly turned her body to the side. She was watching too, her expression dreamy and satisfied.

Andy stared at the box. “What is it?” he asked, voice already hoarse.

“A gift,” Rob said, jerking his chin toward it. “I thought it might be...right for you.”

Andy sat up shakily, naked from the hips up. He tugged his jeans upward to cover himself as best he could, though his softening cock sticking to his thigh with the last smear of his own guilt. He reached forward and pulled the top off the box, then stared with wide eyes.

Inside was something he could only barely understand as human. It looked like a small female torso—no arms, no legs, and lasciviously purple in color. Just a body. A miniature woman with bare, impossibly full breasts, dark nipples erect and swollen. Her hips flared dramatically against her tiny waist, and between them, where there might be legs, was a single textured hole, detailed and glistening and obscene.

Her face was sculpted with uncanny attention. Wide brown eyes stared blankly upward. Lips parted in a sweet, stupid smile. But it was the nose that caught him. It was wide. Swollen. Curved forward unnaturally and pierced with a thick silver ring through both nostrils. Bovine. Not to mention her ears were very cow-like as they stuck away from the sides of her head.

Andy blinked at the torso, and dropped it back into the box with a startled cry when he realized it was of a nude woman. “What... is this?”

Rob tilted his head. “You’ve never owned a toy before?”

Andy’s mouth opened to reprimand him. “I—no. No, of course not, I—this is—” He gestured weakly at the box, but couldn’t finish the sentence. This is wrong. This is cursed. This is from the Devil. He didn’t know what to say, except to admonish one of his only friends on campus for what was second nature to him. Andy desperately wanted to clutch tightly onto his Bible, the only one he had ever owned, and pray for forgiveness. But the heat still churned inside him, and the memory of the fake bovine woman’s form in his hand was beginning to make him hard again.

“I thought it would feel familiar,” Rob said softly. “She’s...a little like Lorraine. But maybe not quite as soft. I figured you’d like that.”

Andy stared harder, his eyes locked on the toy. He didn’t want to admit it, but it did remind him of Lorraine. The huge breasts and curvy hips. The wide, scarcely-human face. That stupid, vacant smile. It was like some cartoonish, porny parody of her. His cock twitched.

No. No no no. Not again. Andy clenched his thighs, heart starting to pound. Rob reached down and gently lifted the toy from the box, cradling it with a strange sort of reverence. “Here,” he said. “Try it.”

“I—I don’t think—”

But Rob was already placing it in his lap.

The moment the soft silicone touched his skin, a warm thrill bloomed up through Andy’s fingertips, and he gasped. It was so soft. Almost like real skin. The nipples responded under his thumb. His head swam and he tried unsuccessfully to speak. A bead of precum welled at the tip of his cock, and he couldn’t stop himself from whimpering at the sensation.

Rob smiled. “See? You’re ready already.”

Andy's throat was dry. He licked his lips. The taste of Lorraine was still on his tongue. Salty, thick, lingering. He hadn’t even washed himself after fucking her.

And still, he had taken the toy when Rob gave it to him, and he continued to hold it now.

The tiny woman rested in his lap like a doll someone had forgotten to finish. Armless. Legless. With massive, upturned tits that waited to be touched. The expression on her little face was content in that vacuous, smiling way—mouth faintly parted, eyes looking nowhere in particular. But the nose...God, her nose. It was swollen and shaped like no human’s nose had any right to be, wide and square and pierced with a fat silver ring.

Andy wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen. The hole in place of legs looked textured, almost glittering in the dim light. Was it ribbed? Did he want it to be? He didn’t know what anything was supposed to feel like. He had no map for this, no vocabulary. He’d never even seen a real naked woman before. And here was this—a twisted, cartoonishly perfect bastardization of womanhood itself, placed so openly into his lap by his friend, like it was only a box of chocolates.

“I…” Andy breathed, and didn’t finish the sentence.

Rob knelt beside him again, his presence close and warm. One hand rested on Andy’s bare thigh, raising goosebumps on the pale skin. “You don’t have to be afraid,” he murmured, his voice soothing and deep. “It’s okay to enjoy something if it feels good.”

Andy shook his head, just a little. “But it’s wrong.”

Rob’s smile didn’t fade, so wide that Andy could feel it beside him. “Is it?”

The cushions behind him shifted softly. Lorraine, still flushed and drowsy, had turned on her side, propping herself up just enough to rest her chin on Andy’s knee. Her mouth opened lazily, a little string of drool on her lower lip. She blinked up at him and giggled, then pressed her lips to the underside of his fading erection and began to suck on his length.

Andy jerked, half in shock, the other half in tingling pleasure. Her lips were warm and wet, slow, affectionate in a way that made his whole body lock up. She wasn’t desperate—just patient. A steady suckling rhythm, her tongue curling just around the tip, licking him back to life. Her own massive dick, still twitching lazily against her own thigh, lay forgotten and dripping. Her nose ring grazed his groin with every bob of her head. And still, the toy sat in his hands, impossibly soft and bizarrely inviting.

Andy’s cock rose quickly under Lorraine’s expert attention, thickening again despite itself, brushing against her tongue. He didn’t think. He didn’t breathe. Instead he let it happen, his hips rolling forward and helplessly meeting her mouth. Rob’s hand was still there—his fingers now tracing gentle shapes along Andy’s inner thigh, drifting closer to his hip. He placed his hand at the back of Andy’s head and began to massage his fingers through his short hair, and it was like Heaven to Andy, who had never been touched in any way before.

“Try it,” Rob whispered. “It goes right on.”

Andy reached, trembling, and picked up the toy. It was warm—not just soft now, but faintly, impossibly warm, like someone had used it just a moment before. He hesitated. Then he positioned it. Pushed it onto his cock.

The sensation was immediate and stunning—like being kissed from the inside, the tightness unreal, the texture so complex it felt like being read in Braille. The textured walls tugged gently at him with every inch he slid forward, hugging him in waves, as if it were eager. As if it wanted him.

He moaned. Quietly at first, then louder, as Lorraine pulled herself up his body and kissed him with a happy, suckling hum.

Andy’s other hand gripped the toy’s smooth silicone hips. His fingers pressed into her round breasts and rubbed against the subtle rise of its belly. He felt obscene. Dirty and stained. But it didn’t stop him.

Rob’s fingers moved to his chest, unbuttoning his shirt one button at a time. Each pop, each brush of Rob’s gentle fingers against his chest sent a jolt through his spine, like the thrill of trespassing on private property. Andy couldn’t stop thrusting into the toy now—slow, deep pumps that teased him. It was better than anything he’d imagined, though he’d never imagined anything like this. And now Rob was kissing him—not on the mouth, not yet. First at the nape of his neck, and exchanging a kiss with Lorraine before he moved lower. His lips pressed against the notch of Andy’s collarbone. Then lower, between his pecs, the shirt falling open as more buttons gave way.

Andy closed his eyes and moaned again, the sound higher this time. Softer. Breathier.

It almost didn’t sound like his voice.

He hadn’t even noticed when his hips started moving faster, but now his balls slapped gently against the toy’s base with a slick rhythm, again and again. It squelched softly around him, its molded thighs jiggling under his grip, the cartoonishly obscene little body welcoming every inch he gave it. He was soaked. Everything was soaked—his cock, his lap, the couch beneath him. Lorraine sucked the very air out of his lungs as they made out, slow and wet, her pace patient and giving like she’d done it a thousand times before. Rob’s mouth moved lower with every minute, lips pressing reverent little kisses down the center of his chest, so delicate they made him shiver.

Andy moaned something that didn’t sound like a man.

He was gasping now, too hard to form real words. Or were they prayers? Maybe they had been at first. They might’ve been Hail Marys or Forgive me Fathers, but now they were just broken, breathy syllables caught between clenched teeth. He whispered again, but it was nonsense.

“P-praisebe—I mean forgive mmm—I…fuck, I—ohhhnn…”

He blinked.

Something had slipped sideways in his head.

He opened his mouth again, but his mind snagged on the word before it reached his tongue. What was the word? What was he supposed to say? Something about…clit—yes, his clit. He was thrusting it into the toy, right? That meant he had a—

No, no, not a clit, that’s not right, he told himself, teeth clenched. That’s not what it is. Had he just thought about his—cock—his penis like it was a c-c…like a girl’s part?” Andy looked down at himself—at his body, chest bare, his nipples erect and flushed pink from the brush of Rob’s hands. They looked a little bigger than before. Tender, almost swollen. But not breasts. Definitely not. Just...flat little—titties?

No.

No no no.

He tried again. Pecs. Just pecs. A man has pecs. A man like h-himself. Himself? Himself. He didn’t have breasts, he didn’t have a clit. He was a normal man. What on earth was wrong with him right now? Andy moaned as Rob took his nipples in his fingers and began to squeeze softly. He hadn’t known he could be so sensitive there. He giggled and thrust his chest out further, and in response, the edge of Rob’s mouth curved upward, and he attached his mouth to one of Andy’s nipples.

Andy’s breath hitched. He moaned again, his voice cracking as it slid upward in pitch. He felt like a total slut right now. The kind who went straight to hell like his parents always told him. And he…he wanted more. It shamed him to think it, even as his breaths came hot and low, and his voice dragged upwards as he moaned in pleasure; but he loved the feeling. The pleasure. The sin. All of his religious pretensions were falling to the wayside as he fell ever deeper into the haze of delight fogging over his mind. Lorraine shoved her long, thick tongue into Andy’s mouth, mooing into him as she kissed.

“Such a p-pretty girl,” she slurred when she came up for air, and Andy cried out as his cock jerked inside the silicone toy.

It was t-true…wasn’t it? He was a pretty girl, and he hadn’t even known it. The thought sent a hazy swirl of happiness ringing around his empty head, another spasm to his penis, though he didn’t finish. Andy groaned and readjusted. He was so close, so close, and then Lorraine kissed her again and it nearly sent her over the edge. How could it feel so good? She wanted to do this forever—fuck college, fuck an education. How could she do this very thing forever?

“Wait,” she whispered, panic breaking through the haze as she broke off her kiss and tried to pull away. “I’m—I’m a boy. I’m a b-boy! I’m—!”

The toy sucked him in again, squeezing and pulling all at once, and Rob continued to play with his swollen nipples. Andy arched back with a strangled cry, his whole body tensing as he came roughly into the toy. His thighs rubbed together instinctively, knees pulling inward as his cum began to overflow, dripping out of the top. As Rob gripped his nipple with his teeth and pulled gently, the sensation that answered him was lightning-sharp.

His nipples throbbed, unbearably sensitive. Too sensitive. And he liked it. “No no no—!”

Rob’s hand touched his cheek, soft. “You’re beautiful,” he said, his eyes staring deeply into Andy’s.

Andy shook his head. “Don’t say that. Don’t call me beautiful. You didn’t, right? I didn’t—I didn’t say I was a girl, I’m not—my name is Andy, it’s not, not—”

A high little moan escaped his mouth, voice lilting up at the end, as he pulled himself out of the toy. His hips jerked, and he looked down. His cock looked smaller. Just a bit. Just…a little thinner. Shorter. Less like something proud and masculine and more like…like something shy. Something cute. It peeked out from under the gentle curve of his stomach now like it was embarrassed to be seen. Like something girly.

“I’m not a girl,” he whispered, like saying it might make it true. “I’m not a girl, I’m not a girl—”

“Of course not,” Rob said indulgently, stroking his thigh. “Just feel what you feel.”

Lorraine giggled again. Her face still pressed to his lap. “Andi’s gonna be so cute…”

The name hit like a slap. Andi. Was that right? Wait, no. That wasn’t his name. His name was—

He couldn’t remember what it was.

He came again, unexpectedly.

Just a single, long, quivering sigh escaped his mouth as his hips locked up and his little—not little, not clit—his cock jerked helplessly into the empty air. A slow spurt, and then another. It was not as much as before, and not as strong. And even now he could see his penis beginning to shrink again, slipping back under a growing hood. But it felt so sweet, so perfect that she was starting to feel glad to see it go.

And it left her—him?—her panting, slumped back, dazed, wet, open. A tear rolled down her cheek, but she didn't know what it meant.

She couldn’t stay still. Her breath came in light, ragged gasps, and her hips twitched forward involuntarily, the accursed toy now still and glossy on the rug beside her where she had dropped it, like some obscene deflated idol. Her thighs were slick. Her chest—not tits, just pecs; maybe they were pecs with nipples that were a little…puffy—rose and fell rapidly beneath her unbuttoned shirt. Her fingers wouldn’t stop trembling.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

“R-Rob…” she stammered, her voice thin and shaky, trembling with heat. “I—I need to tell you something’s—something’s happening. I think I’m—”

But she couldn’t remember the rest of the sentence. It vanished like smoke. She glanced down at herself again, chest heaving, and gasped—was that curve there before? Her torso looked…soft. There was a fullness to her sides now, a subtle roll outward toward her hips, which seemed wider than she remembered. It was all wrong. She didn’t feel wide. She wasn’t supposed to be wide. She was straight, narrow, square. A boy.

A boy.

She tried to speak again, but her throat tightened and the words refused to come. She blinked furiously and looked at Rob, sitting calmly beside her with his hands folded in his lap. His eyes were still on her—bright, focused, hungry.

It made her feel so hot.

Why did it make her feel hot?

Her voice cracked as she tried again. “Something’s h-happening, I’m not supposed to—my name is Andy, I’m not, I’m not a—”

Her voice hiccuped. She’d meant to say boy, right? She meant to. But the word just—fizzled out in her mouth like she had swallowed it. She blinked again and pressed her hands to her chest as if the motion might reassure her, might remind her what she was. But all she could feel were the little swollen buds beneath her fingers, now so sensitive that she whimpered at her own touch.

“I don’t have titties,” she whispered to no one. “I d-don’t, I swear. I’m—I don’t—”

Rob shifted closer. His palm slid along her thigh again, soothing and slow. She jerked back, almost afraid, but he only leaned in. “You’re so beautiful,” he said softly.

She shivered violently. “No—I’m not! I’m not—I’m not even a—I’m me! I’m Andy—I’m—Andi, I guess, but that doesn’t mean—I don’t—?” She grabbed her crotch, as if to prove it, fingers wrapping around the last stubborn proof of her manhood. Her cock.

Her clit.

She gasped. No. No! Not a clit. Not a clit not a clit not a—

But it felt like one, even as she tried to deny it. It looked smaller now. Thinner. Still stiff, still leaking, still flushed and twitching, but…small. Almost shy. Almost pretty. She whimpered and tried again. “I have a dick! I do! I—”

But her voice caught again and she found herself leaning toward Rob. She wanted to recoil, to grab her clothes, to cover up this wrong body that felt too good, but Lorraine was sitting up now beside her, one heavy breast brushing her bare arm, and Andi’s breath hitched in a long, confused moan.

Lorraine tilted her head. “You’re melting,” she said in a sing-song voice. “Mmm…it’s cute.”

“I’m not—I’m not m-melting,” Andi insisted, her voice warbling. “I’m a man, I’m a—whatever boys are, that’s what I am. I don’t—I don’t have anything else, I swear! I’m not—just because I can’t think of the words doesn’t mean I’m not—”

Lorraine leaned in and kissed her again.

Andi froze.

Her lips were warm, plush, confident. The kiss wasn’t aggressive—but it wasn’t gentle, either. It didn’t ask permission. It just happened, and Andi let it, her body softening under it, her fingers still helplessly gripping her clit—no cock cock cock—as Lorraine’s tongue traced softly against her lips. Rob’s hands slid up along her chest again. They cupped the underside of her chest and rubbed her sensitive, now-puffier nipples in lazy circles. She whimpered into Lorraine’s mouth, her hips trembling.

She didn’t know who she was anymore, but she couldn’t stop feeling right. She wasn’t supposed to like any of this. A man touching her? A woman? She wasn’t even—wasn’t—oh God. Was she?

Rob leaned close again, his breath warm against her cheek. “Tell me what you’re feeling,” he murmured.

Andi moaned, and her hips bucked. “I don’t—I can’t—”

He kissed her neck, and Lorraine moaned into her mouth, and Andi whimpered again, as something inside her shifted.

At some point, everything had just…blurred. The edges of the room melted. The couch, the walls, the strange wet sound of Lorraine’s tongue—it all pulsed around her like a dream she couldn’t wake from. Warmth climbed her spine, spreading through her chest, her thighs, her scalp. Her thoughts were slippery now. Muffled. They refused to stay still. Words didn’t mean the same things they’d meant a minute ago. She couldn’t hold onto them. Every time she reached, they dissolved into sweetness.

“Rob,” she whimpered.

“I’m here.”

His voice was low and soft, delicious.

Lorraine’s mouth was still kissing hers—open and drooling and needy. Their tongues moved lazily together like they were drunk on each other. Her breast—was it hers? Was it a breast yet?—rubbed against Lorraine’s chest and made her gasp. It felt alive.

Andi blinked.

Her nipples were so swollen now. Thick. Her areolas were a rich pink color, and the skin beneath them had puffed out into two soft, teardrop curves—small but real. She cupped them with trembling fingers and winced at the electric pleasure that bloomed out across her ribs. Her skin was so smooth. Like it had been shaved and powdered, no trace of her usual roughness, her widespread acne scars.

She shivered.

“I’m not supposed to look like this,” she said slowly, working out the words. “I’m not a girl, I’m not a—I’m supposed to be—I have a—”

She looked down, but where her cock had been—thick and leaking and insistent—there was now only a twitching, tiny nub, hidden in soft folds. Wet folds. Glimmering, blushing. Her thighs were wider. Her hips rounder. Her waist had a little dip now. It was wrong, but it was gorgeous.

Her fingers trembled down to her slit. She touched it—just barely—and moaned. The pleasure wasn’t sharp, like before. It was deep and rolling, a hunger that swirled low in her belly and curled her toes. She moaned again and spread her legs wider. She didn’t even know she’d done it. It just felt right.

Rob’s mouth kissed her chest, in the sensitive skin just beneath her little breast. “You’re perfect,” he whispered.

“I’m not,” she breathed.

“You are.”

“I’m a—I’m not a—I don’t have a…” She touched herself again, and a spasm rippled up her spine. Her back arched and she mewled in his arms before whispering, “I don’t know what I have anymore.”

Lorraine giggled beside her, head flopping to the side, her thick cock twitching lazily against her stomach. “Told you,” she mumbled. “She’s so cute…”

Andi tried to argue. She opened her mouth to correct them—he, she meant he—but the word didn’t come. What was the opposite of girl? She couldn’t remember. Not “woman,” that wasn’t it. What did boys call themselves? What did boys have?

She touched her pussy again and cried out. Her body shook with pleasure.

Rob’s hand cradled her ass now, pulling her hips gently forward as his lips suckled at her tit, drawing it deeper into his mouth like it was something substantial. She looked down. Her nipples were red now, long and sensitive. Her breasts—not just little anymore—jiggled faintly with every breath.

“I’m—I’m a—” she whispered.

“You’re pretty,” Rob said, and kissed her again. “You’re soft.”

She sobbed, unable to figure out why it wasn’t true. “I’m not…” But Lorraine pulled her into another kiss. Their lips slid together with ease, and her thoughts faded for a moment.

And then Rob’s fingers found her. They slipped between her thighs and dipped into her new pussy like he already knew what she was, like he owned it. She screamed. It wasn’t even a moan anymore. It was too pure, too helpless. Her hips bucked against his hand as his fingers curled inside her.

“I’m not supposed to be…”

Her voice faltered. But even as tears slid down her cheeks, her hips continued to move and her breathing continued to quicken. And somewhere inside her dizzy, overstimulated little mind, the last word she remembered—the one she'd forgotten before, the one she couldn’t say—bubbled up like a secret, and stuck.

“I’m a girl!”