Climax and planning

Joy enjoyed stuffing herself for what technically was the first time in her life. The sensation of the silicon sex toy repeatedly filling her up, the butterfly wings on it teasing her clit, her dainty fingers helping out by tugging and rubbing at her mound and labias. She was an expert at sex, but she was having her first female orgasm.

Fortunately her new experience and background didn't leave her numb and hard to please. She was an inexhaustible cornucopia of pleasure, a unquenchable black hole of sexual desires. She was a sexual stereotype made manifest, a caricature, a demi-goddess that made men wish they could fuck her and women wish they could be her.

And fifteen minutes ago, she'd been a sweaty man that she felt she had very little in common with. As she moaned loudly at another orgasm piling on top of her first, she rolled her head back and let the pleasures of her well trained body wrack over her. Another minute of throbbing and slow descent, and Joy was starting to come to a bimbo's most dangerous state of being.

The state of post nut clarity.

Joy snorted, slowly slid the sex toy out of herself and gathered the two bickering sisters that were her feet back together to do more mundane work.

Cleaning off her toy in the bathroom, she began pondering what to do next. She read the info-tabs in the app, this time with interest. The awareness of targets were a problem for her. Well, once a target was changed, she could from experience assume they'd find their new form somewhat to their liking.

Joy wasn't exactly looking forward to explaining to her disappointed parents why she wasn't a sweaty bachelor anymore. Or the authorities for that manner. The former she could handle, the latter... maybe not as John, but she probably could get away with it as Joy.

That would require her leaving her old life behind though... Tempting as it was, she had some people in her old life she'd hate to leave behind. She gave herself a hard look in the mirror, pondering what to do next.