Finding Your Way, or, Dicks Deserve Pussies

"Okay. This is nothing. You aren't scary. You aren't shit. Fuck. Okay."

You wiggle deeper into your armchair, which creaks almost reproachfully at your continued waffling. Yeah yeah, Chair, you know that you must look ridiculous. A fully grown woman, pants around her ankles and a one hand half-heartedly stroking a more than game erection, locked in an inn room and browbeating her own vagina. Well fuck off Chair, you try sprouting a pussy and then you can judge other people on how they work up the courage for some self-exploration. As far as you are concerned, until that happens the armchair can just shut the hell up and stick to its job of supporting your exquisite ass.

Okay, you've put the furniture in its place. Back to the task at hand. Fuck.

It's not like you're still just completely opposed to this whole "Suddenly-a-Sexy-Lady" thing. On the contrary, you've sort of decided you're down for this total smokeshow version of you. It's impossible to overstate how fucking great it feels to be you now; you've got the sort of fitness, tone and general well-being that back in your world could have only come from endless physical exercise, a fanatical nutritional regime, beyond-perfect genetics and some sort of divine bolt from a collaboration of gods from at least three separate religions. And you've found you very much enjoy being the hottest person in any room you find yourself in. You had to waggle a gold coin directly under the innkeeper's nose to wake him up from the spell your deep line of tanned cleavage cast on him, and the deliciously cute twink of a table boy who blushingly showed you to your room did a very poor job of hiding his furious little erection. You couldn't resist laying a kiss on your fingertips and stroking it teasingly across his cheek in thanks, and judging by the way he squeaked and speed-waddled away you suspect he came in his pants. The memory spreads an impish smile across your sultry face as you sink further into your chair, though the dully throbbing ache it inspires between your thighs brings you back to the matter literally at hand with a frown.

You grumble, wriggling your free arm under your tunic to gather up a handful of one of your big, sensitive breasts. Why can't you warm up to your pussy as quickly as you did to your goddamn amazing tits? In the real world having a rack like yours would have probably been as much of a misery as a pleasure, but here it's all plus side baby. You catch your fat nipple between two fingers and squeeze, eyes screwed shut as you bite your bottom lip to **** back a pleasured groan. Your hand starts to work your thick cock more insistently as you start to give yourself away to the pleasure; why over think this right now? You don't even attempt to hold back your second moan as you give your needy bud a little tug, your skilled fingers taking longer and faster strokes up your shaft. You're so deep in your reverie that you don't notice your fingers slipping beneath your shuddering balls to draw across your wet, swollen lips.

Your gasps of pleasure turn into one of shock as you bolt upright in your chair, a full body shiver shooting straight up your spine to your brain and then directly back down to your delightedly quivering womanhood. You can only sit for a moment, panting wildly as your glassy eyes clear and your pussy whines for you to finish the job.

....okay. You need a drink.

The barroom of the inn is pretty dead by the time you've squeezed back into your breeches and wandered distractedly down the stairs, though judging by the innkeeper's beaming countenance you'd never know. The gold coin you used to distract him from the glory of your prodigious boobs invoked such awe in the man that you suspect you may have overpaid for your room by a lot. You might actually own this inn now. Money is a lot less clear when it's just hunks of metal, but you've no doubt now that the knapsack of gold you took from the castle makes you the wealthiest person on the outside of the castle by several magnitudes. If only you could get over being so cunt shy, you'd have to admit that things were going pretty damn well.

Even distracted as you are, you still don't miss that the table boy from before has changed into a fresh pair of knickers. You give him a wink and a waggle of your fingers as he sweeps in the corner, prompting the cute little thing to audibly gulp and quickly whirl around to try and hide the bulge rising anew at his crotch. Okay, that's lifted your spirits. You start towards the innkeeper, throwing your arms out theatrically. "Barkeep! I need something strong and so much of it, if you please!"

The voice that merrily chimes in behind you sends your freshly raised spirits crashing straight down again. "Ah, allow me to take care of that! Your money is no good here, my dear!"

You grit your teeth, allowing yourself a moment of intense irritation before you speak again. "Barkeep. I need whatever comes in your heaviest bottle, and I need a place where I can hide a body."

Prince Loveday chuckles indulgently as he slips beside you, though he at least has the decency to jerk away and raise his hands defensively when you give him a snarl. "Okay, okay! Truce! I come in peace, my lady, honestly!"

You're not even close to lowering your hackles as you warily eye Loveday, the prince fixing his slightly askew ringlets as he does his best to look chastened. "You followed me here? Fucking for real? Are you seriously here to try and get me to go back?"

The prince shakes his head quickly, reaching out across the bar to place his hand atop yours. He thinks better of that when you snatch up a table knife and drive it straight into the wooden counter top, wisely opting to just use his words instead. "No, my lady, no! I just couldn't bear the thought of leaving things the way we did. Not after all these years, all of our time together! How could that be the end of our story?"

You interrupt him with a warning finger. "I don't fucking know you, Goth Fabio and you don't know me. Maybe you think you did, but you're fucking wrong. That is the entirity of our 'story'. Are we clear?"

Loveday implores you. "Just let me say goodbye, my lady. If we must part on life's journey, let it be as friends!"

He gives you an unfairly pleading expression, looking for all the world like a tawdry romance book cover puppy dog. God fucking dammit, why do you still think he's sort of hot? You stare at him for a long moment, the annoyance festering in your chest slowly starting to mix in with a nagging vein of pity. At length you speak. "...........fine. What did you have in mind."

The prince's face erupts with joy as he delightedly claps his hands together. "Just a toast, my lady! Let me send you off on your new adventure with a proper toast, and I will consider myself more than fortunate for the privilege!"

You throw your hands up in resignation, turning to find a seat at one of the tables. "Fine, alright; one drink. And then I go my way and you go your way. Agreed?"

Loveday cheers his agreement, the beaming prince turning to order the best bottle of whatever the inn has while you wearily sit down at an empty table. First off, it's definitely not your responsibility to make this guy feel better about the way you want to live you life, right? And it's secondly pretty fucked up that you kind of feel like you have to anyway? Fuck, whatever; this seems like it's going to be the easiest way to get everything behind you. And Prince Loveday does seem pretty sincere in his desire to part on a good note. You're not willing to go so far as to say that he's an okay guy, but maybe you can be convinced that he's got some layers to go that general fuckboy-ness he's got going on.

You raise an eyebrow as the innkeeper turns his back and Loveday quickly produces a vial of something from his cloak, adding it to one of the freshly poured drinks with less stealth than he probably imagines. You didn't misjudge shit; it's nothing but Fuckboy all the way down.

Loveday looks like the cat that fucked the canary as he parades the two drinks to where you sit straight-backed and silent, fingers drumming across the tabletop. He ceremoniously sets the drinks on the table, taking more care than he is able to hide to put one of them directly in front of you. The only crack in his bubbly facade is the way he slightly holds his breath as you inspect the drink he's presented for you, eyes cool as ice. But when you wrap your fingers around it he is immediately back to his gleeful demeanor. He quickly lifts his own drink, smile all but bursting off of his face. "Shall we toast, my lady?"

You continue staring at him.

"A toast to your journey?"

Stare.

The faintest cracks start to form around Loveday's eyes and at the corners of his now almost imperceptibly strained smile. "Ah...my lady?"

You suddenly shake your head clear, eyes refocusing on Loveday as you favor him with a rueful grin. "Oh! Oh, yes; I'm sorry. I was a little distracted. I think the table boy has a little crush on me."

The prince sets down his drink and cranes his head around to spot the table boy, who sure enough is sporting another woody. The boy all but jumps out of his skin as Loveday shoots him a fiery glare, setting back to his sweeping with such aplomb that you wouldn't be surprised if he burrowed a hole straight through the world. You have to giggle as Loveday turns back with a huff, the prince making a disapproving noise deep in his throat. "What unbearable cheek! I should have the little pervert horse whipped!"

You tut at Loveday, reaching out to pat him on the hand. "Oh, forget about him." You raise your glass. "Weren't we in the middle of something?"

Loveday's outrage is immediately forgotten as he quickly lifts his drink as will, beaming anew. "Oh yes! To you, my lady! To finding your way!"

"And to you as well, Prince Loveday!"

The prince seems a little surprised by that. "Me?"

You nod, smiling beatifically. "Yes! For being so supportive of me and my choices!"

Loveday puffs up visibly at that.

"For being such a giving friend and true ally!"

The prince waves you off dismissively, but clearly could not be enjoying your praises more deeply. Last chance.

"....and for showing such respect for me and my personal sovereignty!"

Loveday clearly can't take any more praise because he lets out a delighted laugh and leans forward to knock his glass against yours. You both let out a hearty 'Cheers!', and then a moment later are both taking deep pulls of your drinks.

You slam your empty glass down on the table with a brisk gasp and bright eyes, Loveday only able to chug down half of his before he gasps for air and clanks his down at well. For a moment you both just sit there, panting and grinning at each other. Loveday's eyes writhe with totally unconcealed expectation as his gaze takes you in, the prince's grin fading slightly as the moments pass by and nothing seems to be happening.

Then Loveday gives a full body shudder, bolting up in his chair as you blow a raspberry at him and knock your glass off of the table. "You fucking piece of shit. Of course I swapped drinks with you; that's an older trick than even drugging the drinks in the first place is!"

Loveday can only manage a little mewl of horror as he stumbles to his feet, hands fumbling with his pants. You crane yourself as far over the table as you can just in time to get a front row view of the prince's package, liberally displayed by his tight leggings, steadily beginning to shrink away. You send him off with peals of laughter as he finally manages to stumble away from the table, all but tripping over himself in desperation as his hands vainly try to convince his member to stop vanishing

You're so deep in the wonderful embrace of schadenfreude you don't even notice the table boy has hesitantly made his way over to the table, drawn by the ruckus and totally unaware of the finer details of what has just occurred. He stares wide-eyed after the prince as he flees the inn and into the night. "Oh, um...was something wrong with his drink?"

You like to think that if you weren't wallowing so deeply in bliss over the turn of events, you would have had the wherewithal to stop the table boy before he could pick up Loveday's tainted glass, give it a sniff, and then take an inquisitive sip. As it is, you can only manage a far too late response. "Uh-oh."

The young man's eyes go even wider. "Uh-oh?"