Captured

Becca awoke to the sound of a girl giggling somewhere in the distance. She opened her eyes and saw a muddled blur of shadows. Her body was cold and clammy and horribly exposed. She became vaguely aware that she was naked. A slight tug from her arms confirmed that she was also chained up.

“Wha? Where am I? Who’s there?”

“Hey sleepyhead!”

Becca’s vision clarified around the gorgeous face of a girl. The face was soft and sleek with full lips and plump, pale cheeks. The girl was beautiful and strangely familiar, almost as if she were the sibling of someone Becca knew very well.

“I don’t think she recognizes you!”

The second voice was deep and sonorous. Becca could not tell if it was male or female. It certainly had the depth to be a man’s voice, but it seemed soft and lilting like a woman’s with speaker their sentences with a raised note. Like the girl’s face, it was oddly familiar, like a variation on a known quantity.

“She’s getting there. Maybe she just needs a refresher.”

The girl closed in and suddenly kissed Becca on the lips. Her lips were soft and inviting. Her scent sweet and dark like fresh raspberries. The sense of familiarity increased.

“No…it’s impossible! Jay!?”

The girl flashed a wry smile that lasted only a moment.

Suddenly, a powerful hand reached from the shadows and dug its fingers into the girl’s hair. She was tossed aside like a rag doll.

“Damnit, Jay! I told you, she’s mine!”

Thundering stomps preceded a massive figure. Becca watched in horror as a tall, muscular man emerged from the darkness. His shoulders were broad and thick. His biceps and thighs bulged like gnarled tree trunks. Between his legs swung a superhuman flesh pipe, accompanied by balls as big as overripe grapefruit. God, he was monstrous. Well over six feet in height and packing immense strength and power.

The figure stepped into the light and suddenly the picture of unrelenting masculinity was muddled. The face possessed sharp lines, but also smooth, rosy cheeks, plump lips, and big brown eyes. Its bulging, powerful arms and legs were hairy, but its face and torso were as smooth as silk. Most puzzling of all, the figure possessed a broad chest with swollen pecs that fused seamlessly into taut breast flesh. The product was a pair of insanely perky teardrop tits any bleach blonde bimbo would kill for.

Then there was the hair. The figure sported a mess of brunette locks. Long, bouncy curtain bangs paired with two unkempt braids. It was a hairstyle Becca had mocked for as long as Mary Bancroft wore it. It was a calling card and a uniform for Becca’s nerdy best friend. Now Becca felt the horrible lurch of reality as she matched that unmistakable hairstyle with the towering, muscle bound shemale that possessed it.

“Muh-muh-muh-muh-Mary?”

The shemale smiled and cupped Becca’s cheek. The power in those fingers chilled Becca to her core. Very easily, the same hand could snap her neck.

“I guess you were right, Becca,” the shemale pressed her flaccid manhood against Becca’s belly so that she could feel the blood surging into the organ, and with it, the unrestrained masculine urges boiling inside her former friend. “I really am one of the boys now!”

The more Becca listened to that voice, the sicker she felt. It was as if someone had taken Mary’s mouse squeak voice and digitally lowered it. She watched the bulging Adam’s apple in Mary’s throat twitch with each word.

“What happened to you?”

Mary gripped her meaty cock and gave it a little pump. It sprang up and poked Becca in the belly button, depositing a smear of sticky residue in the process.

“Isn’t it obvious? The better question is what I’m going to do with you!”

Mary roughly cupped Becca’s right breast and began fondling it. A painful, unwanted tingle ran through Becca’s body from the unwanted advance.

“Mary, you said you would share!” Girl-Jay whined.

“Shut up! I’ll fuck both of you plenty, but Becca is MINE!”

Mary positioned the head of her beastly cock at the entrance of Becca’s pussy and prepared to thrust, but a sharp voice cut through the room and stopped her in her tracks.

“Actually, she’s mine.”