The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Yo, Cheyenne,” said Bear, the large, grizzled garage owner who was also my boss. “Take care of that Iron 883 that just came in, a’right?”

“What’s wrong with it?” I said, without looking up from the Victory Vegas 8-Ball engine I was working on.

“Ain’t starting,” he said.

“My bike ain’t starting either,” I said, nodding at the engine in front of me, “and I still have that Honda to fix. Can’t Snake take care of that 883?”

I could sense his black beard bristling. “Snake has his own work to do,” said Bear, “and more importantly, I just told you to do it.” He shook his head. “I really need a Chey Discipline System.”

“All right, all right,” I said, standing and wiping my greasy hands down my jeans. “I’ll take care of it.”

I strolled over to where the Iron 883 was parked. No bells and whistles on this bike, but it was still a Harley.

The owner stood behind the bike, looking distressed. He was young and clean cut and didn’t have a single speck of grease of him, meaning he hadn’t even tried to fix the problem himself. A pretty boy. I rolled my eyes.

“Weekend warrior, right?” I said, trying to keep the disdain from my voice. He didn’t deserve that bike.

His eyebrows rose. “Excuse me?”

“Nothing,” I said. “What’s the problem?”

He shrugged. “It’s not starting.”

I sighed. “Yeah, I got that. I bet that’s why you’re here.”

“Well, yeah...”

I cut him short. “Don’t hurt yourself. I’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Nice tattoos.”

I held up my forearms, showing off my tats. “You got a problem with ink?”

He blinked. “Ummm...no...I was just complimenting them.”

“Forget it, Romeo,” I said. “What are you...nineteen? I’m at least five years older than you. Besides, I don’t bat for your team.”

“Not my business,” he said, eyes wide, “and I wasn’t trying to hit on you, okay?”

“Yeah, sure you weren’t,” I said. “Whatever. You want your bike fixed or not?”

He held up his hands. “Yes, umm, please,” he said. He took a nervous step backward. “I’ll just leave you to it, okay?” he said.

“Good idea,” I said. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

He reached into the saddle bag near the seat and took out everything inside. Then he shook his head, took out his cell phone and called someone for a ride. He finished making arrangements as he walked toward the waiting room.

Bear walked over and gave me a look. “A little hard on him, weren’t you, Chey? Did you really think he was hitting on you?”

I shrugged. I was dressed in leather biker boots, grease-stained jeans and tee-shirt and my short black hair could hardly be called glamorous. Still, a lot of guys got off on that kind of thing.

“I was just preventing any misunderstandings,” I said.

Bear shook his head. “He’s just a kid trying to get his bike fixed,” he said. “I know your bike ain’t startin’, but no need to take it out on my customers.”

I shrugged. “I’m not a people person.”

“I noticed,” said Bear, “and it’s a good thing you’re such a good bike mechanic, because your inability to get along with anyone would make me hard-pressed to keep you otherwise. You got attitude, Chey.”

“Awwww, you noticed,” I said. “I was trying so hard to keep it a secret.”

Bear grunted and flexed his thick forearms. “Just fix it without getting all judgmental on him, okay?”

I gave him a two-fingered salute. “You got it, chief,” I said. “I’ll finish the Honda and then get Pretty Boy’s bike allllllll fixed up.”

Bear shook his head and walked away muttering to himself. Heh. I couldn’t afford to push him too much, though. I had too many bills and losing my job right now would be a really bad thing. Not to mention my bike payments. Riding in style doesn’t come cheap.

Yeah, I had been a bit hard on the pretty boy. I didn’t give a damn. I was a motorcycle mechanic, not a marketing rep. He’d just have to get over it.

I was still working on the Honda when the garage closed. Snake had left, so Bear and I were the only ones left in the shop.

“You about done?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m finishing the Honda now.” I nodded at the pretty boy’s Harley. “I’ll look at that one before I leave.”

Bear nodded. “Cool,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Sure enough, shortly after Bear left, I finished the Honda. I wanted to get my bike fixed- I was missing a poker game to fix this kid’s bike- but I knew Bear wanted this bike fixed before tomorrow, so I needed to do that before I could even think about working on mine.

I walked to the bike and glared at it. This stupid bike was keeping me from my poker game. Stupid bike. Then I sighed. I can’t stay mad at Harley’s long.

I could easily stay mad at the kid, though. There was a saddle bag on the bike. I popped it open and looked inside, just for the hell of it.

There wasn’t much inside the saddle bag...just a small, flat, ragged box on the bottom. When I opened the box, though, it turned out there was a beaded necklace inside. A nice one, really. It wasn’t gold or anything like that, so probably not too valuable, but it was a nice piece. It looked vaguely like gypsy craft. Considering the condition of the box, the kid probably didn’t even know it was in the saddle bag.

Whatever. I had work to do. I closed the box and started looking over the engine.

As it turned out, it was mainly disconnected vacuum lines. It was an easy fix. In fact, it was done so quick, I actually had enough time to get to the poker game...but only if I left immediately.

I looked at my bike and sighed. That just wasn’t going to happen.

Then I looked at the kid’s bike.

As the mechanic, it was a good idea to give the bike a test ride to make sure it was working right. In fact, it was my duty to do so.

I nodded to myself, on surer moral ground now, and kicked-started the bike.

I woke the next morning wishing I was dead.

“Oh...my...gawd...” I said. Then I groaned. I was...SO...hungover.

I rolled over and stuck my head under my pillow. I tried to recall the night before. How the hell had I gotten home?

It was fuzzy. Really fuzzy. I remembered using the kid’s bike to get to my card game and showing up just in time to get dealt in. Someone had brought in a case of Jack Daniels and everybody was drinking. It was a hell of a loud card game.

I tried to recall the outcome. I vaguely remembered trying to win enough money to buy the parts to fix my bike. I had bad luck all night. At least, I think I did. I was blank on most of the last half of the game. Except maybe a brief memory of betting...something...something...a necklace or something?

Then I groaned. The kid’s necklace. I was pretty sure I had lost it during the game. Dammit.

Then I mentally shrugged, too close to death to worry about it. Besides, the kid probably didn’t even know about the necklace being in the saddle bag. He’d never miss it.

“Look,” I said, “I’m telling you, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I never went in the saddle bag, so I have no idea what happened to this necklace you’re talking about.”

The kid- I still didn’t know his name- was standing in front of me, his face red with anger. With him was an older woman I hadn’t seen before, but she looked enough like the kid that it wasn’t hard to figure out that it was his mother. Strangely enough, she was dressed in gypsy clothing.

“It’s my grandmother’s necklace,” the kid was saying. “I took it to get the clasp repaired and my motorcycle stopped working before I got it home. It was in the saddle bag when I left this garage and now it’s not. That is my mother’s necklace and I need it back.”

Bear sighed. “Why didn’t you take it out before you left? It’s never a good idea to leave any kind of valuables in your vehicle when you leave it at a garage.”

“I meant to,” said the kid, “but that mechanic accused me of hitting on her and got all aggressive on me. I got flustered and forgot to get the necklace before I left. It was there in the saddle bag when I left, though. The jeweler was the last place I stopped before my motorcycle broke down.”

I shook my head. “Sorry,” I said. “I never saw it.”

Bear gave me a look. “You’re sure you never saw it, Chey?”

“Positive.”

Bear continued staring at me, his beard bristling. Then he turned to the kid and his grandmother. “Please accept my apologies for this situation. If you’ll come with me to the office, we’ll compensate you for your loss. And there’ll be no charge for the work done on the bike, of course.”

The gypsy woman nodded her head at Bear. “Despite your gruff exterior, sir, you have an honest heart. I am grateful for your offer. However, the value of the necklace lies not in the gold, but rather in its history. The necklace is a family heirloom. The monetary value is meaningless. The sentimental value, however, is irreplaceable.”

Bear looked pained. “I understand, ma’am, and I’m sorry it went down this way. Perhaps it’ll still turn up somewhere.”

The woman nodded. “Perhaps it will, sir,” she said, turning to look at me. “I truly hope so.”

I squirmed uncomfortably. It felt like she was looking right through me and I had the sudden horrible suspicion she knew exactly where the necklace had gone and why. I decided to go on the offensive.

“Are you accusing me of stealing your necklace?” I said, assuming an angry expression. “Well, are you? If you are, prove it!”

The woman said nothing.

I sneered. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Then she stepped forward and grabbed my forearm. “Redder...!” she said, her voice hissing between her teeth.

“Leggo, you old bat!” I said, pulling my arm free. “I should have you arrested for assault!”

Bear stepped forward, inserting his bulk between me and the old woman. “Let’s keep it civil,” he said. “I understand you’re upset. However, I do have to say that unless we find the necklace on Chey, there’s no proof she stole it.”

The woman nodded. “You are correct, of course. Should the young lady locate the necklace, she will no doubt return it to us, yes? But otherwise, we shall consider this matter concluded.”

She stared at me and I felt a chill. I really didn’t like this creepy lady. Fortunately they had no way of proving anything. Then the woman turned on her heel and left the garage, followed closely by her son.

Once they had left, I turned to Bear.

“The nerve of that woman, accusing me like that,” I said. “Can you believe it?”

“Yeah,” he said. “The nerve.” He looked at me for a long moment. Then he turned and walked to the office.

It wasn’t a good day, so after work I went straight home and showered. Then I went to sleep.

Waking the next morning was tough. I felt like I could use another hour or two of sleep. All things considered, though, being late today didn’t seem like a good idea. So I got out of bed and headed for the kitchen to make coffee. And that’s when I noticed something odd.

My toenails were red.

My sexuality was no secret and I hardly qualified as ‘feminine.’ I had never painted my toenails in my life. So how the hell did I end up with slut-red toes?

Was someone screwing with me? I checked my doors and windows, but everything was locked. I had no clue had I had managed to end up with red toes. I didn’t even have nail polish remover to get rid of the embarrassing color.

I finally shrugged. Whatever. Maybe it happened when I got drunk at the poker game and I just didn’t remember it. Anyway, there wasn’t anything I could do about it right now. No one was going to see anything in my motorcycle boots. I went to the kitchen and put the coffee on. Then I went back to my room to get dressed for work.

That’s when things started getting really weird.

I took off the shorts I was wearing so I could change into jeans. I rummaged around, pulled out a pair of work jeans and started sliding into them. As I did so, I realized I was wearing red panties.

There was nothing wrong with red panties, of course…except for the fact that I didn’t own any.

I stared down at my underwear. I was prepared to swear they were the exact same panties I put on the night before…except they had been dark blue at the time, not red.

What the hell was going on? Mysteriously painted toenails, panties that changed color while I was sleeping…what the hell was going on?

I shook my head. I wasn’t going to let something stupid like this rattle me. So I had stupid slut toes and red underwear. Big deal. I needed to forget it and just get to work. I was in enough hot water with Bear without showing up late for work as well. I pulled my jeans back on and then grabbed my bra and worked my tits into place. Then I grabbed a tee-shirt. Just as I was about to put my shirt on, however, I froze.

My bra had turned red.

It wasn’t a case of my bra being red…my bra had turned red. It had been white moments ago, but after being on my body for a few seconds, it had turned red.

Things were officially weird now.

Unfortunately, however, I didn’t have time to give it any thought. Staring at my underclothing all morning had left me with no spare time. I had to get to work.

I took off the bra and tossed it on my bed. I put my tee-shirt on over my bare tits. I’d go without a bra for the day. Hell, I didn’t really need a bra anyway. I only wore one because sudden gusts of exhaust were common in the garage and shirts occasionally rode up if you were in an awkward position while working on a bike. Going braless for a day wasn’t going to hurt me and it wasn’t like anyone would even notice.

I adjusted my tee-shirt, laced up my boots and headed out for work.

I arrived at the garage a couple minutes late.

“Glad you could join us, Chey,” growled Bear. He wasn’t normally a clock-watching boss…that wasn’t his style. But he really wasn’t happy about yesterday’s scene with the kid and his gypsy mother, and I knew enough to know it was probably a good idea to control my mouth for a day or two and give things a chance to blow over. I needed this job too much to take any chances.

“Sorry, boss,” I said. “I ran into a little traffic at—“

“Save it,” he growled. “Get the plugs changed on that Honda, then trouble-shoot the ignition system on the Yamaha.”

I opened my mouth to retort, then thought better of it and nodded. Yeah, he was still upset. Whatever.

I worked on the bikes all morning. I didn’t talk to anybody. I was in a mood. My fucking nipples were so hard, they ached. The slightest brush against my shirt was sending ridiculously heated ripples through my belly. It was crazy. Working on motorcycles wasn’t supposed to get me crazy horny. It was just that kind of fucking day.

I finally stopped for lunch. I stood and stretched, then gasped as my nipples pressed against my tee-shirt.

Okay, I’d had enough of this. Red or not, I was going home to put on a bra.

I clocked out for lunch, then rode straight home.

My bra was still on the bed where I had left it. My white bra. As soon as I put it on, however, it immediately turned red.

Fine. Whatever. With my tits tucked inside my bra, the sensitivity faded enough that I was at least able to think straight again. Good enough.

I made myself a quick sandwich and headed back to work.

I returned to the garage and immediately got back to work on the bikes. This underwear and bra stuff was making me surly. I don’t like things I don’t understand. Also, I was a dyke bike mechanic. I felt silly as hell wearing girly red underwear.

A couple hours later, I stopped for a break. My back was sore and my joints ached. Besides, I had gotten a shit-load of stuff done, so I had earned it.

I picked up a shop towel and wiped the grease from my hands. And then I froze.

My fingernails had grown. And by grown, I mean they now extended a good half-inch past my fingertips.

And they were red.

My heart pounded in my chest. How the hell was this happening? How?

I stomped off to the bathroom and proceeded to wash my hands repeatedly. It didn’t remove the nail color. I hadn’t expected it to, but I had hoped. Although I couldn’t do anything about the nail color yet, however, I could do something about the length of my fingernails. I took out a pair of nail clippers and proceeded to trim my fingernails down as far as I could.

A sudden sharp knock on the door caused me to nearly jump out of my skin.

“Frickin’ A!” I said, heart still jack-knifing. “I’m in here!”

Snake’s voice sounded through the door. “You got a call.”

“Not now,” I said, teeth still clenched. “Take a message.”

“It’s some woman,” said Snake. “She wants to know if you feel better.”

“If I feel better?” I said, shaking my head. “Take a fucking message!”

Who the hell would call me with a question like that? I felt fine, if you didn’t count the weird stuff going on. But why would someone call to ask me that? It had to be some nut job like that fucking gypsy woman or...

Then my eyes widened.

“Wait, Snake!” I said, pulling my tee-shirt back down and flushing the toilet. “I’m coming out!”

I pulled open the door and snatched the phone from Snake. Snake looked at me oddly and shook his head. Then he walked away.

I put the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Hello, Cheyenne,” said the voice. It was the kid’s grandmother- the gypsy woman.

“Yeah,” I said. “What do you want? Why did you call to ask if I feel better?”

“I didn’t call to ask if you feel better,” she said. “I called to ask if you feel redder.”

Then she laughed.

I clenched my teeth. It was her. I should have realized it this morning. She knew. She fucking knew what was happening to me, but there was no way I was giving her the satisfaction. I forced myself to take a breath and speak calmly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

“I see,” said the woman. “Since you...appear...to have no idea of what I speak, I can only conclude that you do indeed feel...better...and that you spoke truly when you said you are not responsible for my missing heirloom. In which case you have my apologies, Cheyenne, and we need not speak again. Farewell.”

I wavered for a moment. The truth was on the tip of my tongue. But by saying nothing, I’d be cleared and I wouldn’t have to walk on fucking eggshells around Bear. Yeah, I’d have fucking red girly underwear for a while and silly slut nails, but it would be easy enough to work around.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” I said. “One should never make accusations without being sure.”

“Of course not,” she said dryly.

“And, ahh, be sure to mention it to my boss, all right?”

She paused, then said, “I will do so.”

Then she hung up.

Exhaling, I turned off the phone and allowed myself a smirk. I had somehow managed to pull it off.

Then I got busy trying to ignore the fact that my fingernails had grown back even longer than before.

I took the phone back to the charging station by the office. Bear was standing there.

“Did you hear that, boss?” I said. “That batty old woman apologized for accusing me of stealing her necklace.”

“Yeah,” he rumbled. “I just got off the phone with her.”

“Told ya I didn’t take it,” I said.

Bear gave me a long look. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said finally.

“What?” I said. “You still don’t believe me?”

“Chey,” he said, “the only thing I’ll say is I hope you didn’t. I’ve been around enough to know it’s not a good idea to mess around with certain people.”

I flushed. “You think I’m scared of some old gypsy woman?”

Bear shrugged. “In Chrystal Heights,” he said, “sometimes those are the ones you have to be most careful around.”

“Whatever,” I said. “Anyway, it’s passed. I didn’t take her stupid necklace.”

Bear looked at me again. Then his eyes dropped to my chest and rested there a moment. Then he looked at me again.

“Glad to hear it,” he said. Then he turned and walked into the office.

I stood there perplexed for a moment. That was weird. Bear was a big, gruff biker and no one to mess with, but he was also a professional. And he was aware of my sexuality. Staring blatantly at my chest wasn’t his style at all.

I shook my head. What the hell was wrong with people today?

The whole scene had done nothing to improve my mood. I pushed past Snake and stomped my way back to my work area. In fact, I stomped so hard my boobs were jiggling all over the place.

Then my eyes widened as I came to an abrupt stop.

Jiggling? Jiggling?

I couldn’t jiggle. I didn’t have tits enough to jiggle. But I was.

Heart pounding, I made a beeline back to the bathroom once. Once inside, I yanked up my shirt.

The bra was still in place, of course, and it was still red. The boobs inside the bra, however, had changed. Specifically, they had swelled. Firm, heavy globes now filled the cups, pressing against each other, straining against their containment, creating a breathlessly erotic cleavage line.

No wonder Bear had been staring. I had been so distracted by the gypsy woman and talking to Bear that I hadn’t realized I had sprouted fucking bimbo boobs. But Bear had.

“No...fucking...way,” I said out loud. “No fucking way!”

My boobs were growing. My boobs were fucking growing! This was impossible!

“Only in fucking Chrystal Heights!” I said, my breath hissing through clenched teeth.

I went home, stripped down to my red panties and lay down.

My fingers idly played with my nipples as I went over the day’s events in my head. My lush breasts framed my embarrassingly girly fingernails, giving them a sensuous femininity.

I glanced down at my bare feet. It was impossible to miss my red toes.

Shaking my head, I rolled over to get some sleep. It was impossible to position myself in a way that allowed me to not have to deal with having big frickin’ tits. They were distracting. They were inconvenient. They were just there. They couldn’t be ignored.

And they felt good. Constantly.

Every jiggle sent ripples of heat through my belly. Every touch, every gentle caress made me flush. It was...it was...distracting.

Fucking gypsy woman. I huffed and rolled over again, trying not to rub my nipples.

The next morning, I woke up sucking my thumb.

I sat up, my thumb still planted between my lips. I stood and made my way to the bathroom, red toes flashing as I padded across the room barefoot.

My reflection stared at me over my fist. Blinking, I finally realized what I was doing. I pulled my thumb out of my mouth and gazed at my reflection.

My mouth dropped open.

My boobs were still lush balloons. There was little to no change there. If anything, they were bigger. But now my lips were plump and swollen as well, and even more embarrassing, they were just as red as my fingernails and toenails.

And then there was my hair.

Hair care isn’t a passion of mine, so my brown hair is usually cut pretty short. Now, however, rings of tight red curls were exploding from my head in every direction. Waves of permed hair flowed over my bare shoulders and down my back.

I stumbled back a step, unable to even make a sound. How...how the hell was she doing this? How the hell was that gypsy woman able to do this to me?!

Redder.

It didn’t take long to realize I had other problems as well.

My lips were sensitive. Very sensitive. Just running my tongue along my top lip left my belly muscles trembling in need. Trying to eat anything with a spoon left me a wet, squirming mess.

But I needed something in my mouth.

Anything touching my red, swollen lips made me wriggle and squirm in heat, but not having anything in my mouth made me feel so...empty. It was horrible.

And my boobs were just as sensitive. Every jiggle sent a ripple through my belly. The softest pressure left me floating in an erotic haze.

It was embarrassing. It was distracting. It was frustrating.

Trying to work like this was going to be a challenge, but whatever. It had to be done. That fucking gypsy woman was not going to bully me into anything.

My resolve once again fortified, I stripped off my panties and started the shower. Everything felt different, though. This shouldn’t have been a surprise, since I was now sporting a thick mass of hair on my head, but it wasn’t until I started working in the shampoo that I finally realized what the actual problem was.

My hair was just as sensitive as my lips.

The more I lathered my hair, the more aroused I became. I was practically mewling with heat now. I tried to control myself by alternating the pressure and the method, but it didn’t do me any good. As I worked my wet locks clean, I tried to resist my growing arousal, but finally I closed my eyes, threw back my head and squealed helplessly as my body exploded into orgasm.

When I finally opened my eyes, I realized I had dropped to my knees. I had no memory of doing so. Oh, gawd, I had cum so hard.

I slowly got to my feet. I had no idea how I was going to function.

I knew my bra and panties were going to turn red when I put them on, so I didn’t bat an eye when they changed color. Unfortunately, that was now the least of my problems.

My jeans turned into a short, flippy red skirt. My tee-shirt turned into a red halter-top. And my boots- my leather motorcycle boots- turned into red strappy high heels.

I wanted to cry. There was no way I could work like this. I was going to have to call the gypsy woman and admit defeat.

Calling in to work wasn’t easy. “Uhh, yeah, boss, I can’t come in because I’m stuck in high heels” didn’t seem like it would fly, so I had to tell Bear I wasn’t feeling good. Asking him to get the gypsy woman’s phone number for me was worse. In fact, I had to talk fast to get him to do it.

“Tell me again why you need the kid’s number,” he said.

“It’s just a follow up, boss,” I said. “You know...just checking to make sure his bike is working fine. A, umm, gesture of good will and shit. Umm, stuff, I mean. Customer service.”

The phone was silent for several seconds. Then Bear said, “Did you just say ‘customer service’...?”

I sighed. “Yeah, boss, I did. I’m trying to turn over a new leaf, you know? I may have been a little brusque with the kid...just a little...I thought maybe I should—“

“A little?”

He really wasn’t making this easy. “All right, a lot!” I said.

Bear exhaled. Finally he answered. “Fine,” he said, his voice dubious. He was having a hard time buying my story. “That would be a refreshingly new direction for you to take. I’ll get the number.”

He returned to the phone a few seconds later and read me the phone number. I wrote it down.

“Thanks, boss,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said. “Feel better. And Chey?”

“Yeah, boss?”

“If I find out this call isn’t about customer service- if it’s actually about, say, harassing one of my customers- then you don’t need to return when you feel better. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yeah, boss,” I said. The line went dead a moment later.

Bear wasn’t kidding around. I really had to handle this next bit right or I’d be stuck like this for good and unemployed to boot.

Taking a deep breath, I dialed the number. It rang several times before it was finally answered.

“Hello?” said a voice. It was the kid.

“Hey,” I said, forcing myself to sound casual. “This is Chey, from Bear’s Garage. The one who fixed your bike.”

“Yes,” he said. “I know who you are. Can I help you with something?”

“Uhh, I was just, umm, checking to make sure everything is working out. Is the bike okay? Any, umm, problems...?”

There was silence for a few seconds.

“No,” he finally said. “Not really. About half a tank lower on gas than when I dropped it off, but everything is working fine.”

Dammit. I had apparently been too drunk to remember to add gas when I took the bike back to the garage. Come to think of it, though, how the hell did I get it back to the garage? I couldn’t remember.

“Hey, that’s great!” I said. “So, maybe I could talk to your grandmother...?”

There was icy silence for several seconds. Then the kid said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Suspicion sounded clearly in his voice. “I’ll tell her you called, though.”

Panic knotted in my chest. I couldn’t let it end like this.

“Please don’t hang up,” I said. “Could I please talk to your grandmother?”

There was silence as he weighed my request.

“Look,” I said, desperate. I inadvertently licked my lips, causing myself to shudder with sudden intense arousal. “Just...could you just tell her I’m feeling...redder?”

Silence again. Then whispered conversation in the background. After a few moments, the phone was picked up again.

“Yes, Cheyenne?”

It was the grandmother.

“Umm...hello...” I said weakly.

“Yes, Cheyenne?” she repeated.

I sighed. There wasn’t any point in talking in circles.

“I’m...I’m feeling...redder,” I said. “Very, very much redder.”

“Yes, I know,” she said, sounding fucking smug.

I sighed. “You win, okay?” I said. “I’m sorry I took your necklace. I will pay whatever you think the necklace is worth.”

“I am not interested in the money, Cheyenne,” said the woman. “As I told your boss, the value is in the history. All I require is the return of the necklace. Bring it to me and the matter is concluded. We will then take steps to make you feel...better.”

“I...I can’t bring you the necklace,” I said. “I don’t know where it’s at. I can only offer to pay for it.”

“What?!” said the woman. “You mean it’s lost?”

“No!” I said hastily. “Not lost! I just...I just don’t know where it is exactly.”

“I see,” said the woman. “However, locating the necklace is your problem, Cheyenne, not mine. Do so, then contact me. We will speak at that time. Until then, you shall remain...redder.”

The phone went dead.

Redder.

So this was it. I had to find the stupid necklace if I was going to get out of this mess. The hunt was on.

First things first. I had to find out who actually had the necklace. I remembered- vaguely- using the necklace as collateral for a bet, but I had no idea who had won the hand.

I dialed a number.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Beer Can,” I said. “It’s Chey.”

“Yeah?”

“Hey, you remember that game the other night?”

“Yeah, I remember,” he said. “I’m surprised you remember. You got wasted.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Anyway, you remember me betting a necklace?”

He was silent for a few seconds. Then he said, “Yeah, I think I do remember that.”

Result. “Cool. Who won the hand?”

“Dagger, I think.”

“Dagger? All right. I’ll talk to her. Got her number?”

“She lost her cell phone a few days ago. Ain’t got a new one yet.”

Crap. “All right, Beer Can,” I said. “Thanks.”

Well, step one was completed at any rate. I had a start. I was going to have to ride out to Dagger’s place to talk to her, though. I really didn’t want to go out in public looking and feeling like this, but I didn’t really have a choice. At least my motorcycle was working again.

The working motorcycle turned out not to be such a blessing after all. The throbbing engine vibrated my boobs so much that I had about thirty orgasms on the way to Dagger’s trailer park. By the time I got off the bike, I could barely walk.

“Holy shit,” said Dagger, looking over my outfit as she let me into her trailer. “What the hell happened to you? You look hysterically vapid, but fucking hot as hell. And why do you smell like sex?”

This coming from a girl with an inch of roots showing in her bleached hair, while wearing tight leather pants and a cut-up concert tee-shirt.

“I’m just...expanding my horizons,” I said, leaning against the table to support me. My knees were weak and, despite the multitude of orgasms I experienced on my way over here, I was so aroused, I could barely speak.

“I see,” she said. She pressed up against me. “You look good, though. Hot. Did you get a boob job?” She reached out a hand and pressed against my firm, swollen breast.

My eyes widened. “No!” I said. “Don’t touch...I mean...don’t...I...ohhhhhh...!”

It was too late. The suddenness of Dagger pressing my sensitive boob had caught me by surprise. Just like that, I was wriggling under in explosive heat.

Dagger stared at me in surprise as I writhed. “Umm...Chey? I’m barely touching you. Are you...okay...?”

I tried to answer, but I moaned instead.

“Well, damn,” she said. “That’s...hot. No wonder you smell like sex.”

I tried to stop her, but the feel of her hands squeezing my big boobs was too much. I bucked once, then twice. I was vaguely conscious of her leading me over to her bed and laying me down on my back, but only vaguely. At some point she pulled my top up and used to hold my arms over my head while she used her free hand on my bare boobs.

I was close. I was so close. Then she suddenly stopped.

“No!” I said, my voice strangled. Then suddenly I couldn’t breathe.

“My turn,” said Dagger.

Too late I realized she had stripped off her denim shorts and straddled my face. With one knee on each side of my head, she was stroking her pussy over my mouth.

“Mmmmmpppph!” I said. “Mmmmmppphhhhh!” But it didn’t really matter what I said, because the sensations of her rubbing her pussy over my lush, sensitive lips were driving me wild with heat and need.

I started licking Dagger’s button as it stroked itself over my lips. I couldn’t help myself. The closer she got, the closer I got. And when Dagger finally started moaning and writhing on my face, her release triggered mine and I exploded into orgasm beneath her.

It was several minutes before I could finally speak again. I was blushing from head to toe.

“Umm...sorry...” I said.

Dagger shrugged. “Don’t bother me none,” she said. “Besides, you’re a hot piece of ass.”

Grrrrrr. A fucking trailer park wench was calling me a piece of ass. Grrrrrr.

“Whatever,” I said. And then I asked her about the necklace.

“Yeah, I remember it,” she said. “I did win that hand. I lost the necklace to Bottleneck Billy a couple hands later, though. He beat my three ladies with a full house. Bastard.”

“So Billy has it?”

Dagger nodded, still floating in a post-orgasmic haze. “Yeah. Or at least he did.”

I stood up, trying to gather my clothes and my dignity together. “All right,” I said. “Thanks.”

“No charge,” she said. “Come by anytime. And bring that tongue with you.”

Cheeks red, I got back on my bike and headed for Bottleneck Billy’s place.

Redder.

I pulled up in front of an older house. Billy’s hog was parked out front.

Once again I had trouble walking. Riding a motorcycle in my condition was not a good idea. My knees were so weak from orgasms, I almost didn’t make it to the door. I leaned against the door and pounded the best I could.

“Billy!” I said. “It’s Chey!”

The door opened and I feel forward.

“Hey!” said Billy, leaning forward and trying to pull me to my feet. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” I said, struggling to a chair. “Just need a minute...to catch...my breath.”

He was a big guy- over six feet- with a thick handlebar mustache and weightlifter arms shown off by an old tank top. He got his nickname from the way he played guitar.

“Damn, Chey,” he said, sitting in a chair next to me. “I didn’t recognize you.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’ve been getting that a lot.”

“So what is it you need?”

“Look,” I said, “do you remember winning a necklace the other night at the game?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Sure do.”

“Well, that was mine,” I said. “I need it back.”

“Oh,” he said. “Damn.”

“Damn?” I said. “Why damn?”

He shrugged. “’Damn’ because I pawned it,” he said. He shrugged again. “Needed some tires for the hog, y’know?”

I sighed. It just wasn’t my day. I closed my eyes. “All right,” I said. “Which pawn shop.”

He told me. I nodded.

“Okay,” I said. “Thanks.”

I stood up to leave, but my knees were still weak and I wasn’t used to walking in these stupid high heels. I tripped and dropped to my knees...directly in front of Billy. I fell forward, my hair spreading across his lap.

“Whoa,” he said. “You okay?”

I tried to speak, but I couldn’t. My hands were on his thighs and I could feel the muscles of his legs through the denim of his jeans. The bulge in his pants was right in front of me. It was...so close...I could actually smell him. A strong, masculine scent, making me heady. And my mouth felt...so...empty.

“Chey?” he said.

My hands slid up his thighs, over to his zipper. My long red fingernails slid over and pulled the zipper down. My fingers disappeared into his jeans and moments later pulled out his heavy cock.

Billy chuckled, a deep, masculine sound. “Well, now.”

I had no idea what I was doing. I was a lesbian. I didn’t suck cock. But all I could think about right then was wrapping my lips around that thick meat.

And I did. He hardened in my mouth and suddenly my bright red lips were wrapped tightly around his rod. My warm wet mouth slid up and down his shaft, his fat cockhead pressing deeper and deeper into my throat.

Oh, gawd. The sensations of his rock hard dick between my lush, swollen lips was making me crazy with heat and need. I moaned around his rod, which made him even harder. Then his fingers slid over my head as he grabbed my hair, holding my head in place as he suddenly exploded into my mouth.

My eyes widened as I was hit by the simultaneous sensations of a cock fucking my mouth and a hand grabbing my erogenous zone hair. I instinctively...helplessly...swallowed the flood of cum, the hot semen slowly filling my belly.

“Yeah...oh, fuck, yeah,” said Billy, still grinding his cock into my mouth.

The sensations of his cum filling my belly triggered my own release and suddenly I was squealing around his cock.

“Nice,” was all Billy said. He waited until I finished cumming like a slut before he finally pushed my head back.

I sat there blinking, still on my knees. Oh, gawd. I had...I had just blown a guy. I was a lesbian with a belly full of semen.

I struggled to my feet. I tried to say goodbye, but I inadvertently giggled.

Billy grinned, realizing I was trying to leave. “Hey, thanks,” he said. “See ya. Good luck getting your necklace back.”

Cheeks burning, I fled for my bike.

Redder.

“That necklace?” said the pawn shop owner. “What the hell is it with that necklace? You’re the second one today asking me about it. Yeah, I remember it. I just sold it, in fact.”

“What?!” I screamed.

The guy shrugged. “I just sold it. Someone called this morning looking for a necklace like that. Billy waived his 30-day hold, so when the guy came in and offered to buy it, I said sure.”

“Oh, gawd,” I said, fanning my cheeks. I was still fucking horny. No amount of orgasms seemed able to make this arousal go away. I wanted to just sit on a fucking cock forever. “Look...I need to know where the guy who bought the necklace lives.”

The guy shook his head. “I can’t do that,” he said. “It’s bad for business.”

“Please!” I said.

“Sorry,” he said.

A stranger. I didn’t know this guy. But I dropped to my knees in front of him.

I could smell his cock. I could feel my pussy getting crazy wet just from being so close to a cock. And my mouth was...so...empty.

It took some time to convince him to let me blow him...nearly half a minute. But moments after that, my mouth was full of cock.

I left the pawn shop with a hand on my full belly. I couldn’t believe how much I had swallowed.

Three times I had to blow him. Three times before he relented and gave me the address. Gawd, I was so full. But I had the information.

I got on my bike and studied the address. There was something familiar about the address, but I couldn’t place it.

Whatever. It was time to get this stupid necklace before I became addicted to fucking blowjobs.

I kick-started my bike and started for the last destination. The hunt was nearly over.

Redder.

I found the address easily, as it was barely two blocks away from the garage I worked at. It felt like I was going full circle.

I parked the bike in front and headed for the door. What the hell was the guy going to think when he saw me? I was a fucking slut in tight, revealing red clothes, with huge fucking tits and wearing fuck me heels. I looked like a vapid nineteen-year-old bimbo.

And who the hell was this guy and how did he know about the necklace?

I sighed. I didn’t have a choice. I had to get the necklace or I’d be stuck like this.

I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

The door opened. My eyes widened.

“Well, it’s about time you got here, Chey,” said Bear, his big black beard bristling. “Get in here.”

Speechless, I followed him inside.

“I’d offer you a seat,” he said, “but I don’t think you’ll be here that long.”

I closed my eyes, letting the disappointment wash over me. I’d failed. The whole hunt, everything I’d done...for nothing. Bear knew what I’d done. He was going to return the necklace instead of letting me do it. The gypsy woman wasn’t going to remove the redder curse. And Bear was almost certainly going to fire me.

And to top it all off, I needed a cock in my mouth so badly, I wanted to cry.

“Looks like you’re having a bad day,” said Bear, as if he was reading my mind.

Miserably I nodded.

“Well, I suppose I should tell you how disappointed I am you went this route, but it would be wasted right now. You’re...well, you’re red.”

My hands absently squeezed my big boobs together. Gawd, I was so wet.

“Anyway,” continued Bear, “I’m going to give you one chance to save your job.” He looked me up and down, then shook his head. “And your dignity.”

A sudden spark of hope lit inside my chest. “A chance?”

“Yes,” he said. “One chance.” He pointed to a door. “Go inside that room. Once you’re in there, you’ll do everything you’re told to do. I’ll let you know when you’re done. Understood?”

I nodded, eyes wide. Then I turned and headed for the room. Was I really getting off this easy?

I entered the room and waited. A minute later the door opened.

The kid walked in.

Bear stuck his head in. “Remember,” he said, “you’re not finished until he says you’re finished. And you know these kids...lots of stamina.”

The kid took a step closer. I could smell him.

I mewled with heat and need.

Redder.

“Chey,” said Bear. “After you get done with Suzuki, take a look at that dirt bike.”

“You got it, boss,” I said, stepping carefully over to my tool box. I was walking tenderly because the kid the night before had indeed shown a lot of stamina and absolutely no discrimination in which hole he used. Repeatedly. Still, it was nice to be walking in my boots again.

“Good,” he said. “Then fix the brakes on that Bradley.”

“Fine,” I said.

Bear’s eyes widened just slightly. “No smart remarks.”

“Nope,” I said. Then I grinned. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Glad to hear it,” he said. “Maybe now you’ll stop driving my customer base away.”

“Just the jerks,” I said.

Bear grunted.

“Definitely the jerks,” I said.

Bear looked at me, beard bristling. “If you do,” he said, “I’ll use my new Chey Discipline System on you.”

“Oh?” I said. “What the hell is your Chey Discipline System?”

Bear walked over and wrapped his huge hand around my forearm. Then he looked at me.

“Redder,” he said.

Redder.