A quiet glade

It's a lucky thing your shoes aren't too fancy. The route Trish picks leads up a steep trail and, if you remember a long ago visit to this place, out to a scenic overlook. But partway along the path Trish pushes aside some branches and leads you down a much less traveled path. Unlike the main paths this has only a hint of gravel and is completely covered by overhanging branches.

As you follow Trish you notice your eyes adjusting to the dim light. It's nearing dinner time, but the canopy is so thick here that you could swear it was past sunset. When Trish turns onto another, even less obvious trail you ask her just how many times she's been here.

"Oh, quite a few times. My Dad used to love taking me up here. We'd search and explore all these different old paths, try to practice making shelter - all sorts of important father-son stuff. Heh, I was just getting old enough that I didn't want to come out here anymore - I probably would have forgotten most of it except then I suddenly changed into a girl." She stops and puts her hands on her hips, looking around and breathing in the sweet forest air. "After I wound up at St. Catty I really looked forward to the occasional weekend out here. This is where I could be a tomboy and just do what I wanted."

"Have you brought other people out here?" you ask. As the words leave your mouth you recognize just how much oozing sexuality you put into them. It's not what you meant but your body has a real one track mind.

Luckily Trish takes it well and laughs. "Not a lot. At night there are a lot of more convenient places to bang in town, plus most guys and gals don't want to follow crazy deep into the woods."

Almost instinctively you step in close and breathe, sucking in Trish's scent and staring deep into her amber eyes. She wraps her arms around you and cradles your head against her breasts. "Don't worry Jane, I know you'll follow me anywhere, no matter how crazy I get."

Worst of all you feel some of your juices dribble down your inner thigh. The thought of becoming Trish's obedient little housewife and letting her dominate you every night in bed... another dribble runs down your other thigh and you sigh into her soft bosom. Fuck - you smile to yourself, knowing how close this evil curse brought you to being a fuckslut and breeding bitch for the rest of your life.

"Come on baby," Trish whispers, "we're really close to my little nest and I've got another surprise for you."

She wasn't kidding. Less than a minute's walk down the trail and you reach a tiny glade. It's so small that only a dinner plate sized beam of light shines on one of the surrounding tree trunks. If both of you laid on the ground fingertips to toes you could touch the trees on opposite sides. Still, you can see why Trish brought you here. There isn't much light, but that little beam of daylight has allowed a thick coat of clover to grow on the soil here. You look up from running your fingers through the clover to see Trish already disrobing. As she pulls her blouse off she turns slightly, showing off a patch of white gauze taped to her lower back. Trish smiles and says, "Surprise!" while wiggling her torso seductively.

Not sure exactly what to make of this you ask what she's got there.

"I got lucky at the mall," she says, working blind to carefully peel away some of the tape. "There was a girl at the hairdressers and she did tattoos. And I've been thinking about yours, so..." She pulls away the square of fabric, revealing a mass of freshly injured skin. "I thought yours was just so metal, I couldn't resist getting one of my own." You can't make the details in the dim light, but it looks rather... pentagonal.

Your heart starts beating a lot faster and you find it harder to breathe. You checked yourself out in a mirror! How could you have missed it? Thinking fast you tell Trish, "I, uh, can't really compare them out here. Maybe you could take a few shots of my tattoo with your phone?"

"Yeah, sure!" she replies. Trish helps you out of your blouse and then gets you to stand so that the one beam of sunlight shines on your lower back. It seems your herm girlfriend is something of a perfectionist when it comes to photography. After several calls to "hold still" or "bend forward a little" she finally puts an arm around you and shows you a little glowing screen that makes you shudder.

Sure enough, right where a tramp stamp should be, there's an intricate little pentagram made up of little red, blue and silver ribbons - each with finely lettered symbols in black ink. The whole thing is perhaps two and a half inches across, with several inner ribbons in addition to the main outer ribbons. You can't read a word of it, but you feel something snap in your mind. You realize that you've ignored itches and the few times you've contorted and seen your own lower back in mirrors your eyes have skipped over the tattoo as if it weren't there. But now, looking back, you remember that it's been your companion since yesterday morning.

You flick through the pictures and try to absorb this new information, but Trish interrupts your train of thought. "Now check out mine! I'm sure it's the same girl you got to do yours, the style is just so right. And I barely had to tell her what I wanted - it was like she already had the whole thing planned out."

You look over at Trish's back. Even through the bruising you can see the same style of work, the same kind of layout - though the tattoo is only about 1.5" across. The ribbons are red, yellow and silver, the symbols are all different and some of those inner ribbons are connected differently. You don't know that much about tattoos, but you know for sure that no normal tattoo artist could make something that intricate in the time Trish was gone at the mall.

"Maybe I should have waited until the bruising died down, but I just couldn't wait to show it off," says Trish. "Now I just need you to help me put the gauze back on and then I'll help you out of that cute little skirt - sound good?"

You feel a ball of ice forming in your guts. You're no occult expert, but you would bet your life that the bitch who's been messing with you has made sure Trish's lazy sperm are now highly athletic. And with how you're feeling now, near the end of the second day of your life as a girl, you don't know if you can resist her.