Help! My Bimbo Erotica is Coming to Life!
Lacey Liu
Chapter 3
Fuchsia Futa: Lipstick Lesbian to Hottie Horndog.
“Wait!” She reached for Scarlett, but it was too late.
With a strangled ‘urk!’ sound, Scarlett wobbled on her heels and had to spread them about a yard apart. She was too startled to even swear as the bulge engorged under her suit skirt, pushing her panties out of the way as it swelled to proportions to shame any man. Scarlett looked down in mute horror, mouth agape, the wild-magic lipstick falling from her fingers and clattering onto the floor. Lucy snapped it up, sealed it, and shoved it in her jacket pocket for safekeeping.
Tentatively, afraid of its reality, Scarlett felt her new equipment through her skirt.
“What...the fuck...is this?” She said, twitching on her feet in pleasure as her exploratory touches brought the thing to life.
“It’s...” Lucy gulped. “...a cock. In place of your clitoris. But, uh, with the same sensitivity.”
She’d been proud of that detail.
“Yeah, I’m getting that.” Scarlett said. “Why is it on me?”
“Your lipstick.” Lucy said. “Something else from one of my stories.”
“Which story was this from, you sick fuck?!” Scarlett demanded, turning red in the face. Wincing, Lucy told her.
Despite herself, Scarlett laughed.
“That’s terrible.” She looked on the edge of tears, her laughs had an edge of madness. Lucy totally got it. “You better hope you can reverse this, or I am going to take this fucker, and I am going to test it out on you.”
Lucy was taken aback. Scarlett wasn’t seriously threatening to rape her, was she?
“Is there anything else I should know about?” Scarlett snapped.
“N-no.” Lucy said, shaken. “Just that it’s ...sensitive. A-and I hear they’re demanding.”
And came with a Lucy Lee guarantee of multiple, mind-blowing orgasms for everyone involved. That story had had the most florid descriptions of post-coital bliss she’d ever committed to Google Docs. Despite everything, Lucy felt a little envious of any woman Scarlett would end up making love to with it. Once all this was over. If it was still there. And if everyone consented.
“Okay.” Scarlett took a deep breath. “Okay. Consider yourself believed, Lucy. Hah. I don’t think I ever expected to get cockblocked with a cock of my own. That is definitely a new one.”
“Why would you still want to take him home?” Lucy asked. “You know he’s fictional.”
“Why would I let that stop me?” She considered her options. And the contents of her skirt. “Unless he’s into ...this sort of thing?”
Lucy made a pained expression.
“Sorry.” She said. “Only on boys. But if you help Jerome and I figure out what’s going on, I promise I’ll write up your Prince Charming with the Disney prince arms.”
“Okay.” Scarlett agreed. “Hell, blue-penciling is my day job. I don’t think you could pick a better help. But you owe me big, little girl.”
As if to emphasize, the bulge in her skirt throbbed. It was powerful enough to make Scarlett blush.
“Lucy...?”
Lucy knew that voice.
“No way,” she preempted, “forget it.”
“But I can’t go out there like this!” Scarlett gestured unnecessarily. “I’m not asking you to stick it in anything—I mean, I didn’t exactly pack condoms or dental dams for tonight—just...give me a hand.”
Lucy stared down Scarlett. It was true, she couldn’t exactly go out into the bar like that. Even with low light, it tented her skirt so much.
But...
“Couldn’t you...” Lucy gulped. “Y’know...handle it? Yourself?”
“I wouldn’t know where to start.” Scarlett confessed. “I mean, I go directly to the main action, you know?”
Despite herself, picturing Scarlett going directly to the main action, on one Antonio Giovanni perhaps, was giving Lucy a little thrill.
“And...you think I have...more experience?”
She did. When she wasn’t all the way sure about a guy, she gave them handjobs. Good handjobs. But that was beside the point.
“More than me!” Scarlett whined. “Help a sister out here!”
The door to the bathroom creaked.
Lucy grabbed Scarlett and with an “in here!” yanked her into the handicap stall.
“It’s so big!” Scarlett breathed.
“Shh!”
The woman went through the motions of taking a stall, doing her business, flushing, washing her hands, fixing her makeup, and exiting in what sounded like a reassuringly unsexy manner.
And yet, there it still was, throbbing between them.
“Okay.” Lucy gasped. “Okay. But when we walk out of here, you tell nobody, you don’t say a word to me, this never happened, okay?”
“Okay.” Scarlett agreed. Lucy knelt down on the tile in front of the toilet. Ew. Scarlett unzipped her skirt and worked it and her underwear gently to her ankles.
Ho.
Ly.
Fuck.
It was even more impressive in real life than in Lucy’s prose. It was a monster! All veiny and meaty and thrumming with life and cum. It looked like it might bite her if she touched it, and like she might not mind.
Gingerly, Lucy wrapped her hand around the base. Scarlett shivered, and Lucy had to clap her hand over Scarlett’s mouth as another woman walked into the restroom.
They exchanged glances, and Scarlett gave an even nod. Lucy let go of her mouth, and started pumping, with smooth, even, teasing strokes.
Scarlett, at least, was enjoying herself. Lucy watched as she bit her lip, as her chest heaved with stifled moans, as her body hummed with unaccustomed pleasure.
She studiously avoided looking at that futa cock. In her head, she started critiquing it. Where did the cum come from, anyway, since Scarlett didn’t have big hairy balls to match? How painful would it be to a real woman (as opposed to a porn character) to try and fit that thing in? On the first try? Lucy shuddered.
“oh, yes...” Scarlett hissed.
“Shut up!”
Lucy sped up her tempo. Just by nature, that thing would be ready to blow the moment it was hard. She didn’t have to put a lot of thought or work into making this particular Mr. Happy very happy.
“oh! Oh! Oh!” Squeaked Scarlett.
Lucy gave up, and just hoped that if anyone was in the next stall, they were sanguine about the fuck next door.
“Lucy, I...”
That was all the warning Scarlett gave, and all the warning Lucy needed. She was gone from the splash zone almost before Scarlett spoke, up against the wall like a cartoon character.
Now she stared at it. Watched it throw rope after rope of pearly cum halfway across the stall. It bucked and throbbed and reared like a wild animal. Lucy stared half in sick fascination and half...well, the other kind of fascination.
Finally, the splattering and Scarlett’s moaning died away, leaving them alone in the fluorescent bathroom light with what they just did.
The lady in the next stall knocked.
“Listen.” She said. “There’s a line out the door three deep and your shit’s still on the counter. Grab some toilet paper, wipe your slutty ass off, and get out.”
Fortunately for both of them, the bathroom was unoccupied when they emerged, red-faced, from the handicap stall. They didn’t talk much. They just gathered up their things and reemerged into the bar proper.
Tammi, pulling off “dumb blonde” with a brunette updo, and Randi, who looked ready to grace the cover of a story with a MILF-themed double entendre title, were still tending bar, but things had started to shift here, too. The thrift store dresses were diverging, some migrating down-market to cheap, trashy synthetics that pooched bellies and breasts, some migrating up-market to slinky, slutty cocktail dresses that drew verbs like “plunged” and “dared” and “snaked” like moths to a flame. The suits had diversified, some with too-tight silk shirts over marble pecs, some gone to fuzzy flannel rolled up over brawny arms, some shrunk to jerseys and wife-beaters that didn’t bother to contain flexing biceps their owners would refer to exclusively as “guns.” They were still just sitting and talking, but it wouldn’t be long.
Jerome waved them over with a “please save me” look that Antonio Giovanni didn’t notice, as he was too busy running hungry eyes over Jerome’s peacoat.
And that was when the full-grown werewolf entered the bar.
Lucy had to stop to stare. Not because she couldn’t place it. Pounded in the Pucker by my Werewolf Alpha and his Alpha Werewolf Pack. One doesn’t forget one’s first werewolf gangbang in a hurry. But because an eight-foot werewolf had just walked into Thrill and oh wow was eight feet a lot taller than Lucy had ever given it credit for.
Nobody else looked. Everyone else only had eyes for their soon-to-be fuckbuddies, including Tammi and Randi.
Even Scarlett.
“Scarlett!” Lucy hissed. “We gotta get out of here! Now!”
“Lucy...” Scarlett turned, and went so wide-eyed Lucy wondered if they’d pop right out. “...you’re absolutely right.”
Lucy took her hand.
“C’mon!” She hissed.
“Wait!” Cried Antonio Giovanni.
But it was too late.
She forgot that werewolves can smell fear.
(Well, at least in her stories. Better to skirt Amazon’s dubcon ban with.)
God he was huge. In every way. The pants were straining, fraying, the last feeble fig-leaf left to human notions like obscenity and consent. Despite her writing, Lucy was no size queen, but she found her mouth watering and her eyes glued to the huge, knotted pole of ...dominant, alpha fuckmeat. She knew, in her bones, it would rip her in half if she tried.
But, suddenly, Lucy wasn’t sure if...
“Watch it!” Jerome’s voice, his dark coat between Lucy and Scarlett and that eight foot slab of wolfman. He came up to the shifter’s shoulder, but stood much bigger.
For a moment, nothing moved. Not even a mouse.
Antonio rose.
Scarlett pushed.
The werewolf swiped.
And they were outside.
“Fuck!” Jerome exclaimed.
“What?” Lucy asked.
“Just missed the guy.” Jerome said, holding up the tatters of his coat. “Ruined my favorite pea coat.”
“Let’s get going before he turns around!” Scarlett announced.