Meanwhile, in a neighboring cabin...

During the walk back to her cabin, Hillary was deep in thought. The events of the past 24 hours were surreal. She desperately wanted to believe that this was some kind of absolutely bonkers lucid dream, but as the day had progressed, she eventually conceded that this was, in fact, real. Vying for her mind's attention were the competing emotions of shame, guilt, and excitement (arousal?) surging through her at the thought of the day's happenings. My roommate, who I only know because we've interacted at bar association functions walked in on my masturbating. Mentally shrugging, she amended that thought. She walked in on my playing with my fucking ass. And cumming harder than maybe ever. And my first act as her roommate was to use that transformation of hers and retain her as my attorney. I didn't even give her a chance to say anything. I just figured she'd hold it over my head, so I struck first. And then later, when she was just supposed to play with these ridiculous tits, I apparently couldn't fucking control myself and again, abused her transformation and made her milk me. What the fuck? And if that wasn't the worst part, I then fucking humped her hand. And since she HAD to finish milking me, she couldn't stop me. This woman is every bit the victim I am and what have I done? I've added my name to the list of the assholes who have violated her and taken advantage of her. And yet, when she was compelled to answer truthfully, she said she was OK with it. She didn't hate me. Didn't despise me. And then, just as another 'fuck you' to her, she now HAS to ... ughhh milk me every day! And she's gonna start getting off on it? Or something? Fuck! Hillary felt disgusting. She was disgusted with herself. She was sickened at the sense of relief she felt knowing that at least once a day, someone would be draining her breasts. She had almost gotten used to having her chest exposed. Almost. During the walk, the air had picked up a bit of a chill and the rings (Fuck! That's a whole other thing there!) were chilly on her skin if they made contact with the skin of her breast. A subtle little reminder for her. Subtle like a fucking sledge hammer, she thought. I suppose in time I'll ACTUALLY get used to this shit. Begrudgingly, she was grateful (assuming Sage was telling the truth), that whenever they returned to the real world, that she wouldn't be arrested or disbarred for indecent exposure. It wouldn't be fun, having to parade around topless in court, but she figured that, just like most things in life, eventually it would all settle down and become just another one of those things that she had to deal with.

Lost in her thoughts, Hillary found herself lagging behind the group. Now that a great deal of the building pressure she had been feeling in her breasts was gone, she cautiously hefted one and then the other. While the sensation was immediately pleasurable, it had been dialed down considerably. She had to give Sage credit. Her boobs felt real. Looked real. However, they certainly sat up higher and perkier than they had any right to be. Hillary guessed that thanks to Sage, she would forever have perky tits. I guess thanks?, she thought. She must have done something to my back, because I haven't felt any muscle strain or fatigue from this considerable weight that's been added. As she pondered this, she concluded that it wouldn't do to expend the effort to give someone big boobs if you simultaneously gave them crippling back pain. That didn't make for a very sexy image, she thought.

Wrenching her thoughts back to her more immediate issues, Hillary admitted to herself that she was dreading being alone with Grace. What do you say to someone after you magically compel them to silence, magically **** them to fucking nurse from you, and then, just for funsies, grab their hand and hump it to orgasm while they're compelled to finish sucking on your tits? While there were Hallmark cards for many different occasions, Hillary was confident that one didn't exist to cover her present need. But Grace said she was OK. That she understood. That she wasn't mad or upset. That she was curious exactly what I was doing with her hand. Grimacing in shame, Hillary knew the answer to that question. She had tried to use Grace's hand to hump her pussy against. At first contact, however, Hillary was again reminded about the changes inflicted on her. She had scooted forward a bit and had been rubbing Grace's fingers against her asshole through her shorts. Thanks to the wetness from both her pussy and ass, Grace had just felt one big wet spot and had assumed (incorrectly) that it had been Hillary's pussy her hand had been rubbing. At the time, Grace was under a magical compulsion to complete a task and had very little perception to spare for what was going on around her. How do I tell her? Sorry I used your hand to rub my asshole? Hillary understood that what was previously considered a "dirty" place on her body no longer was. It was clean. Sterile. Empty. Self-lubricating. She shuddered again. But knowing something and knowing something were two very different things. And how is this new arrangement going to work? Again, Hillary was conflicted. She felt relief that she would be getting some measure of relief at least once a day. That relief was tempered with the knowledge that that relief would come because someone else was **** to do so. Hillary tried to remain calm. Grace had said they could work something out, and she couldn't lie now, or make impossible to keep promises. We'll talk like two regular women. Two regular women with some magical shit going on that makes us do some fucked up weird shit. Perfect.

Entering the cabin, Grace was unsurprised to see that Hillary was lagging behind. The prosecutor had assumed as much. How did one go about explaining or talking about their new co-dependent? Symbiotic? relationship? Grace was unsure if it was her natural calmness under pressure, shock at her circumstances, or magical influence (probably all three, she supposed), but she found that she couldn't get upset or freaked out at the prospects in front of her. Is it because Hillary 'retained' me? In a standard sense, a lawyer on a retainer looked out for their client's best interests. Obviously, Hillary had expressed a desire to keep her masturbatory habits secret. Grace could understand that. Admitted to herself that she'd probably feel the same way, herself, if the roles had been reversed. But why can't I muster any feelings other than a very muted sense of resignation at the thought of her paying me to milk her? Grace wondered if Hillary's first purchase, retaining Grace as her attorney, took precedence over every subsequent thing that Hillary might pay her to do. It could be argued that showing resentment to her client for fulfilling actions on behalf of her client would be viewed as not in the client's best interests. Especially, if the afore-mentioned actions were directly for the client's benefit and well-being. I'll have to run an experiment, I guess. Grimacing, Grace realized that for it to be a true test of her transformation, the contract would have to be for something that she wouldn't normally want to do.

Forcing her thoughts back to the immediate issue, Grace debated how to handle the talk that she knew had to happen. Grace was relieved to find that she really didn't carry any animosity towards her roommate. Not for the first time that night, one of the affected women wondered how much of their acceptance of their new circumstances was natural adaptability on their part, or subtle manipulation via their magical transformations. The pragmatic Grace chalked it up as a moot point. No matter what the cause, the end result was the same. And I am definitely in a results-oriented profession, she thought. Running various scenarios through her head, Grace paced around the living area while she waited for Hillary to show up. Eventually, Hillary made her appearance. Grace had been in the cabin long enough to make a reasonable conclusion that Hillary had been dithering on the front porch, delaying her entrance as long as she could. Grace couldn't blame her. She was again thankful that she didn't know exactly what the other woman was feeling.

It was at times like this that Grace was thankful for her legal training. While courtroom antics could (and often did) become heated, emotional affairs, the majority of her legal practice depended on cold, dispassionate logic. One had to be able to evaluate one's case with an unbiased eye. It would do you no good if you focused only on the strengths of your case and hoped the other side didn't pay attention to your weaknesses. Sometimes this made for unpleasant conversations. It was tough explaining to a victim's family that while she personally believed the person arrested had committed an offense, the lack of evidence precluded any reasonable hope of a verdict. Those conversations were never fun. Occasionally, her audience would listen and accept her answer, even though they didn't want to hear it. More often, the response was more... emotional. Grace was thankful for her small, non-threatening stature during times like those. It was actually her diminutive stature and lack of a physically imposing presence that oftentimes calmed the upset parties and eventually get them to understand why their case was going inactive. There's a whole WORLD of difference between innocent and not guilty, she thought. How often had she trotted out THAT old saying? However old it was, it still held up.

Squaring her shoulders, Grace approached the taller Asian woman. Reaching out, Grace gently held the other woman by her forearms and tilted her head back to look her in the eye, mostly succeeding in avoiding looking for too long at the exposed breasts and nipple rings of the other woman. "Hillary, we need to talk." Seeing the other woman start to open her mouth, Grace cut her off. "I have no doubt that you have many things that you want to say. And I promise that I will let you." Grace felt a strange sensation. Suddenly, she knew that she would listen until Hillary was done talking. "But right now, I want to say a few things. Is that OK?" Hillary eventually met Grace's eye and gave a slight nod. "Good. Would you mind if we sat down over there? The chairs and couch are quite comfortable and you're considerably taller than I am." Smiling, Grace gently guided Hillary towards the seating area. Choosing a spot on the corner of the couch, Grace pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around her legs while Hillary got settled in an armchair. "OK. So here's the way I see it, Hillary. I think there are several issues at play, and I think we need to address all of them, or at the very least acknowledge them, along with any you think of that I've missed. Sound good so far?" Hillary nodded. Shifting her position, Hillary brought her legs up to her chair and curled them under herself, hugging her knees as well. Due to her transformation, she was unable to cover her chest, even while sitting.

"OK. I'd like to go in a chronological order. That's how I prep my cases for trial, and it's what I'm most comfortable with. You good with that?" Receiving an affirmative nod, Grace continued. "So far, you now have breasts that you can't cover up, you're lactating, the milk will only come out if a person nurses from you, you have nipple rings that are permanent, and apparently your breasts are very sensitive", Hillary flushed and fought a wave of shame. Grace wasn't ridiculing her, she reminded herself. She was just listing the facts. Laying out her case, Hillary thought. "Then, your first purely mental transformation occurred, and you're somehow going to be more of a traditional Japanese wife? I confess I don't really know what that means, but I believe I recall that the description said something about being more submissive towards the Master. Then", Grace paused. Mentally berating herself for getting squeamish, Grace continued. "Then Sage magically transformed your body, moving basically all of your genital pleasure receptors from your vagina to your anus. And she said your digestive system would never produce any waste product? Right? And that you would now produce the same lubrication in your anus as in your vagina. Did I get that right?" Hillary, blushing madly, nodded. "That has to be a weird sensation, right? Please know that I am not mocking you or trying to make you feel bad. I am just trying to wrap my head around what this means and what it must feel like." Grace tried, and failed, to keep her own blush at bay.

"I - I don't know really how to explain it. Like, you know when you're turned on? Like, the feeling? Being wet? Wanting some stimulation to your, uh..."

"Pussy", Grace supplied. "We might as well get used to saying stuff like that. I've tried to use clinical terminology, but sometimes that just makes me feel more awkward. Is that word OK with you or do you prefer something else?"

"Nnno. It's fine. I've never cared for the word cunt, but pussy never bothered me. It's what I think of most of the time, when I think about my own... yeah. But I guess it's like that. Maybe just try to imagine that your pussy now has been relocated several inches further back?"

Grace's mind clicked. "Again, I'm NOT judging, but you weren't rubbing my hand against your pussy, were you? I couldn't really focus. That contract thing basically **** ALL of my focus on uh... drinking?"

"No." Hillary covered her face with her hands, her shame feeling limitless. She waited for the shorter woman to express outrage, disgust, revulsion, something. Instead, to her surprise, she was suddenly aware that Grace was standing right in front of her. Hillary cautiously lifted her head from her hands and met the other woman's gaze.

"I told you already that I wasn't upset. I'm not. I don't understand exactly what you are feeling, because I can't. Not unless she does the same to me. But that doesn't mean that I am completely without empathy and imagination. I know how it felt when my services were purchased."

Hillary moaned anew and moved to cover her face again. "Stop that. I told you that it's OK", Grace gently admonished. "What I'm saying is that I couldn't control myself AT ALL, and that is a foreign feeling for me indeed. I pride myself on my composure and my self-control. I was latched on and drinking before I really registered what you had said. Incidentally," Grace had a shy smile on her face as she looked at Hillary in a self-conscious manner, "It tasted good. Like, really good." Grace flushed scarlet, but continued. "I kept waiting to feel full, but I never did. I was pleasantly satisfied. But that's not the point!" Grace shook herself and regained her previous detachment. "I had no control. I have been **** to accept the existence of magic today. I have had it used on me. I have experienced the effects of that magic that was used on me. I understand what it feels like when your body acts without including your brain in the decision-making process. So you got off from my hand rubbing against your asshole. Granted, that's not a sentence I ever expected to say out loud, but here we are." Grace smiled. "Functionally, you now might as well have a second vagina. Just, one of them is apparently going to feel a LOT better than the other. And that same one is apparently going to be sending signals to you continuously, no matter what. I think the taboo is all in your head. Not that that makes it any easier", Grace quickly added. I've only done anal a handful of times, and they were all with the same boyfriend who I knew and trusted implicitly. Even though those experiences weren't unpleasant", Grace looked thoughtful, "In fact, the last two times were quite nice. Even to this day, I would be squeamish and less than enthusiastic about doing that again, even if we were still together. It was always a spur of the moment thing, usually on a special occasion, so libido was already high. I don't think I could just do that on a Tuesday night." Realizing the casual way she was referring to the foreseeable future for her roommate, Grace hurried to explain. "What I mean, is that you have an advantage here. Anal is guaranteed to feel good. You will always be clean. You don't have to worry about lube. And let me tell you", Grace grimaced at the memory of a disastrous first attempt. "You ABSOLUTELY need lube. Or at least, the rest of us do. You don't! I'm sure you still have a lot of emotions to work through. But I would, as your attorney," Grace grinned at the Asian woman. "Try to think about it as if you have a second pussy. Try to distance yourself from thinking about anal, if that's what makes it easier for you."

"Now for the other elephant in the room." Hillary grimaced again. Seeing her expression, Grace lightly popped the other woman on her knee. "Stop that! Once again, you had no say in this. Neither do I. It says once a day I HAVE to feed from you. And apparently, over time, I'm going to sexualize it. I'm still not sure how I feel about it all, but I'll tell you that I'm not there yet." Reading the emotions on Hillary's face, Grace continued. "But not getting off on it is far from not liking it. I have told you already that your milk is delicious. It truly is. And I didn't feel all bloated and full. I felt pleasant. Warm. Content. I certainly didn't regret it. My sympathy and outrage are at the embarrassment you are feeling over this. Again, I don't know if it is this transformation or the fact that I am your de facto lawyer, but I feel compelled to help you however I can. Will once a day be enough? And before you immediately say yes, again, as your attorney, I am telling you that I need you to be honest with me. If I don't have all the facts, I can't do my job properly. You know how it goes, right?

Nodding, Hillary thought about it. Eventually, she made a decision. "Honestly, I think once a day is the absolute bare minimum. I think I could survive, but it would be pretty rough. It hadn't been too terribly long since she did this to me before you uh... helped me out. I'm not sure if she started me out full already or if they gradually filled or what, but I was pretty uncomfortable. Maybe if you can do it in the morning, I'll see if I can get one of the other girls to do it in the evening? I feel so bad that you're caught up in my bullshit. If I could have kept my damn mouth shut, I wouldn't have this problem!" Angry tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. "And now, not only is everyone going to stare at these ridiculous tits", she gestured angrily at her enhanced bust, "I have to be fucking milked! I can't even take care of myself! I pride myself on being self-sufficient! And now," She took a deep breath, fighting for calm. "And now I've gotten someone else roped into my bullshit! Every time I see you, I feel guilty! I used you! You didn't get a choice! And that's separate from that transformation bullshit!" Hillary gave up on not crying. Now she fought to keep her emotions from shutting down her ability to speak. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she stared at a spot on the seat cushion. "The first opportunity, and I violated your autonomy! Gah! It makes me sick! And you're so nice about it. So fucking understanding! Why? And then there's fucking Brewer!"

"You do realize that he isn't actually behind all this, right? I had my doubts, but I've been watching him. Years of studying jurors have given me a good bit of insight on gauging honest emotional reactions. He was horrified by what happened." Seeing the other woman prepare to speak, Grace placed a hand gently on Hillary's knee. "I know he got excited. Aroused. I don't think he had much choice. I know someone else who also got aroused... " Grace paused, then nodded to herself. "I got aroused. So I hardly feel like it's fair of me to judge him for doing something I did. Make no mistake, I am not thrilled to find myself here. But I do believe that Ofc. Brewer is an innocent party in this."

"But we're going to have to DO stuff with him!", Hillary wailed. "How many defendants would you be comfortable fucking after a trial? Hmm? I know ALL about him. I went through all of his records, bills, browser history, you name it. Wanna know what kind of porn he likes? I do. I know him. And when I take on a case, I hate the other side. I see them as the enemy. It's how I get and keep my competitive edge. If I start to empathize with them, to understand them, I'm going to lose!" Hillary clenched her fists. "How on earth am I supposed to submit to and obey this man? I know I should -" She appeared to **** for a second. Face pale, Hillary looked back to Grace. "I was going to say that I should obey him and put his wishes above all else! Get IT OUT OF MY HEAD!!!" Hillary was screaming by the end.

Grace jumped to her feet and smothered her roommate in a hug, whispering calming noises and gently stroking Hillary's hair. Gingerly, tentatively, Hillary wrapped her arms around Grace, buried her head in the shorter woman's shoulder, and sobbed. Grace stood for an indeterminate time, gently swaying back and forth, stroking the sleek, shiny black hair, gently rubbing Hillary's back. Grace had no idea what to do. Thus far, she was operating purely on instinct. She had had enough experience with victims of trauma to avoid trite and cliche expressions promising that everything was OK, when all of the evidence pointed to a situation that was completely, totally, and irrevocably fucked. So instead, she settled for gentle caresses, calming noises, and a slow and steady back and forth rocking.

Eventually, Hillary cried herself out. She continued to hug Grace long after her tears had subsided. Grace, for her part, continued what she had been doing, deciding that the other woman would be the first to break the silence. "Grace?" Her name was muffled, due to Hillary's face being pressed into her shoulder and upper chest, but Grace understood it nonetheless.

"Yes, Hillary?"

"Thank you. I am so scared and so angry and so... confused. I'm sorry I got you tangled up with me. No! I can apologize for that. I know I didn't specifically hope you'd get caught up, but the liability is mine. It was my original fuckup that made that option a possible option for them to pick for you. And I'm scared about Brewer. If it was me, I'd probably do everything I could to sabotage him if our situations were reversed. He's got good reason to. I don't want to get an elimination transformation! I want to go home!"

Grace hugged Hillary gently. "I know, Hillary, I know. I do too. And we will. Together. All of us. You know about Ofc. Brewer. I know him." Scrunching up her nose, Grace amended. "Well, what I should say is that I also know him. He and I have come up through the system more or less together. My very first criminal trial was a case he made as a brand new rookie. We're not friends. We don't hang out. I certainly never considered him as a romantic partner. But over time, you get to know the officers. At least the ones who actually go out and do their jobs, that is. He is honorable to a fault. What you might have perceived as weakness, is going to be an asset now. He's going to want to help us. All of us. But you're going to have to let him. He's not going to make you do anything. He will do the right thing, no matter the personal cost. I've seen that myself. Not the latest bullshit that you might have had a hand in, either." Hillary looked down in shame. "What's done is done, and besides, I'm not condemning you. I'm just stating a fact. Did you know that this is the third time he's been up for promotion? The third time he's scored the highest for the promotional roster? Want to know why he hasn't been promoted? An older, now-retired detective told me it was because he refused to look the other way when a city councilman's son got picked up in a prostitution sting. That guy had some juice with city hall. City hall leaned on the chief and told him to promote somebody, anybody other than Brewer. And that is a fact. I was later able to verify it when I had the displeasure of meeting said councilman, who is now deputy-mayor. He casually mentioned it in conversation. Looking back, I think he was trying to get in my pants."

"Oh shit!" Gone were Hillary's tears. "I remember that! Wasn't that guy's wife some kind of old-money heiress or something?"

"Prudence Avondale", Grace confirmed. "And who names their kid 'Prudence'? That's like naming your daughter 'Chastity'. That's a 100% guarantee that she's gonna be a stripper. Anyways, yes. That's the one. So political pressure on one side, old money influence on the other, and they straight fucked him. The chief finally had enough political capital of his own that he could tell city hall to fuck off, and then the divorce happened..."

"Fuck me", Hillary moaned. "How the fuck is this supposed to cheer me up? It sounds like you've just confirmed how fucked I am!"

"Hillary." Grace's voice was firm, no-nonsense. "I need you to trust me. To be honest with me. To confide in me. Can you do that? If I am going to do my job as your attorney, I have to have complete cooperation. No half-assing it. Can you do that?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. It just seems so hopeless", Hillary responded.

"Let me worry about that." Standing up, Grace looked Hillary in the eye. "It's time to put that honesty pledge to the test. I need to know. How are you feeling right now? Here." Grace gestured to Hillary's chest.

"Fine", came Hillary's immediate response as she flushed and looked down.

"Hillary, you have to help me help you. Are you really fine?", Grace pressed.

"I'm a little uncomfortable... but I'm OK!", Hillary blurted out.

Pulling the taller woman to her feet, Grace guided Hillary to the bed. "Lay down, please. I don't mind. We need sleep, and you won't sleep if you're focused on your breasts."

Before she realized what was happening, Hillary was propped up against the headboard. Grace was to the side, perched in the middle of the bed, kneeling and looking at Hillary. "This is just one more thing that's part of the daily routine, ok?", Grace asked. "It's not a fun image, but think about nurses giving sponge baths or changing bed pans. It's just a thing. There's no shame. OK?"

Not trusting herself to speak, Hillary nodded and prayed that Grace would start assisting before the tears that were forming managed to escape from her eyes.

Nodding to herself, Grace tried several different positions before settling on scooting Hillary so that Hillary was on her back. Grace moved in to Hillary's side and propped her head up on an elbow, looking at the beautiful Asian woman. "There's no judgement, remember that. We have to help each other. Let me help you. I need you to communicate with me, OK? I can't read your mind, and until we figure out how this is gonna look going forward, I'm probably going to drive you crazy with my constant questions. But we'll get through this." She reached across and gave Hillary's hand a gentle squeeze. "Together." And with that, Grace leaned down and brought her lips to Hillary's tan, pierced nipple.

Bliss. Pleasure. Relief. Hillary was awash in sensation, all of it pleasant. Without thinking, she found herself gently stroking the petite blonde's hair and cheek, the only sound the steady, rhythmic sucking and swallowing from the other woman. As she played her fingernails along the scalp of Grace, the diminutive blonde made a purring sound of pleasure. Hillary gasped and tensed up. Grace popped Hillary's nipple from her mouth, alarmed.

"Are you OK? Did I hurt you?"

"Nno. I'm fine." At the stern look from Grace, Hillary reddened, but continued. "I really am fine. But when you hummed, it vibrated the nipple ring? I think? Whatever it was, it sent a shot right to my pu-, ... " Closing her eyes in embarrassment, Hillary continued in a whisper. "It sent a shot right to my ass and it felt _really _good." Hanging her head, she felt Grace's finger under her chin, lifting her head so that she could make eye contact.

"There's nothing wrong with that. I know this feels good to you. I was starting to worry that I was hurting you because of how quiet you were being. It's ok. Make noise. Talk to me. I think that'll make this less weird for me, honestly." And with a reassuring smile, Grace returned to Hillary's nipple. As she did, she deliberately hummed when her lips made contact with the ring running through her target.

"Hoooo fuck! Fuck!", Hillary exclaimed. Looking down, Hillary could have sworn that she could see Grace smiling around her nipple. "Oh... that's so unfair!", Hillary moaned. Grace repeated the hum. Hillary felt her abdomen clench. "Shit! Oh God! You don't even know! Oh Grace!" As Grace continued her task, she had begun lightly running her fingernails across Hillary's tummy. As the humming and the occasional flick of Grace's tongue stimulated Hillary, she found her hand holding Grace tighter and tighter against her breast. Hillary was certain that her underwear and possibly the bed underneath her was soaked. With a start, she felt Grace's hand slide under the waistband of her shorts. "Grace! You don't- I mean - I'm OK. You don't have to-" Hillary's words turned into a moan, as Grace battered Hillary's nipple with her tongue, providing enough stimulation to short-circuit the Asian's ability to make coherent sentences. Dumbly, Hillary realized that Grace's hand had reversed its grip and was now tugging her shorts down at the hip. Lost in the sensations, Hillary lifted her butt off the bed. Grace slowly, methodically, stripped the other woman's lower half. Slowly working her way from one hip, to the back, around to the other hip, and back. Each time, working the shorts and underwear down a little at a time. Eventually, the elastic was past the roundness of Hillary's ass and Grace was able to pull the collected shorts and panties to Hillary's knees, where the Asian woman wasted no time in kicking them off of her legs and off the bed.

Grace held no illusions about what she was doing and preparing to do. I'm about to masturbate another woman to orgasm by playing with her ass, she thought. Perhaps it was the strange day, perhaps it was Hillary's retainer, perhaps it was her own transformation going to work on her. Regardless, Grace found that she didn't feel the apprehension she had expected to feel. Prior to today's events, she had certainly never been intimate with another woman. When one of her close friends in law school had revealed to Grace that she was a lesbian, Grace had taken time to consider things. In her typical analytical fashion, she re-evaluated her previous, all-hetero relationships. She looked at other women appraisingly. She even tried masturbating to lesbian porn. She had orgasmed, but she felt it was probably more a function of her vibrator than the subject matter. She had never truly considered sex with a woman before then. After her informal self-evaluation yielded no groundbreaking revelations, Grace had chalked it up to an experiment that resulted in a rejection of her hypothetical lesbian status. She remained open to the idea that there MIGHT be a woman who would turn her away from men, but until that day came, Grace was very comfortable with her sexuality.

Smirking to herself, Grace considered that perhaps her day had come. If Sage was correct, she was going to begin developing sexual excitement from this act. Perhaps it was the pragmatist in Grace. Perhaps it was her cold and calculating mind that saw an inevitable outcome. Perhaps it was the stubborn courtroom bulldog who decided to give her transformation a mental "fuck you" and elected to participate in this Sapphic encounter on her own initiative.

Regardless of the motivation behind it, Grace found herself being held to another woman's breast. A breast that she, Grace, was nursing on and doing her best to stimulate. As before, Hillary's milk was delicious. Grace would have had a hard time explaining the taste. It tastes like warm hugs. Like home.

Now that Hillary's lower half was free of the encumbrance of clothing, Grace allowed her fingers to trail ever lower down the taller woman's belly. Still keeping her touch confined to just her fingernails, out of the corner of her eye, Grace watched as the other woman's skin erupted in goosebumps. Smiling at achieving her goal, Grace returned her attention to the nipple and ring in her mouth. Grace's hand encountered the junction of Hillary's legs. Lifting her hand from Hillary, she moved it to the inside of the other woman's thigh and slowly dragged her hand towards Hillary's center. Hillary drew a sharp breath, as Grace chose that moment to gently tug on the ring with her teeth. She just as quickly let go and quickly fluttered her tongue around the nipple while resuming her suction. Hillary's back arched, pushing her breast into Grace's working mouth.

"Yes. Please!" Hillary didn't know what exactly she was asking Grace to do. She didn't particularly care either. She just wanted Grace to continue.

And now the moment of truth. Thus far, I can say I was just fulfilling my transformation's obligations. If I go further, it's all on me. Grace hesitated only briefly. As her hand traced Hillary's thigh up to where her sex lay, Grace was aware of the heat coming from the other woman. Hillary's pussy wasn't shaved, nor did she have a landing strip. It appeared that she just had a very small amount of pubic hair growing naturally. Gently, Grace ran her fingers through it, gently tugging just to see if the other woman would moan. She moved her hand down and cupped the other woman's sex. Her fingers encountered no small amount of moisture. Gently stroking the outer labia of Hillary's pussy, Grace let the nipple go from her mouth and looked at Hillary. "How is this? Does this feel good? What about this?" And saying that, she easily slid two fingers into Hillary. Hillary moaned. She could feel Grace's fingers in her pussy. She had felt their teasing caresses along her lips. But the fullness she craved, the satisfaction and the stimulation? It was missing.

"Nno. I mean, I can feel it, and it doesn't feel bad, but it's not what I need. Please. Please!"

Grace had a choice to make. On the one hand, she didn't want to make this more difficult on either herself or Hillary. But on the other, the sooner that Grace could help Hillary come to terms with her situation, the better for all of them. And with that thought, Grace resumed lightly teasing the outside of Hillary's pussy. Moving her hand up and down, allowing her fingers to trace the contours of the other woman's folds. On the downstroke, once every few round-trips, she would trail her middle finger lower, gently pressing Hillary's perineum. "You need to say it, Hillary. This is for your own good, I promise. Grace resumed playing with Hillary's nipple, causing the other woman to moan.

"Please just do it. Don't make me say it. Please!" Hillary's voice had taken a pleading tone, a begging quality to her voice.

Grace held firm, going so far as to wet her middle finger in Hillary's pussy and then gently trace circles around the Asian's anus.

"PLEASE!", moaned Hillary

"Please what?", responded Grace. "I can do this all night. Can you?"

"Please... please... play... w- with m-m-my a-ass!" Hillary's voice was a whisper. Her shame consuming her and at the same time ratcheting up her heat.

"Why of course. All you had to do was ask." Grace firmly pressed her fingers against Hillary's cunt, coating them with the lubrication that was flowing freely from it. Grace gently pressed against Hillary's ass, and with surprisingly little resistance, her finger was in.

Hillary bucked as if she had touched a live wire.

Grace gently worked her finger in and out, remarking at the moist heat surrounding her finger. "A-another. Please?", came the request from Hillary. Grace acquiesced and added her ring finger to the mix. As she worked them in and out, Grace rose to her knees and leaned over the reclining Asian. Gently caressing Hillary's cheek, she wiped away a tear that had been **** from Hillary's eye.

"Hillary. Look at me. Please?"

Hillary slowly, reluctantly opened her eyes. "Hillary, do you feel good? Does this?", Grace flexed her fingers inside Hillary, "Feel good?"

Hillary moaned and arched her back, driving her ass into Grace's hand. "There's nothing wrong with this. Hillary, look at me", Grace repeated. Eventually Hillary re-opened her eyes. "There's nothing wrong with this. With you. There's nothing dirty or wrong about this. See?" And with that, Grace removed her fingers and brought them to her mouth. Extending her tongue, Grace licked her fingers clean. While Hillary processed what she was seeing, Grace reached down and ran her fingers along Hillary's labia, collecting more liquid. Returning her hand to her mouth, Grace again cleaned her fingers. "It's the same, Hillary. The. Exact. Same." After each word, Grace had made a show of loudly sucking on three of her fingers. "One day, I might even lick you there. I'm not ready for that just yet, but it'll probably happen eventually. Now, relax, please. I'm going to finish and we need to sleep." And with that, Grace leaned across her roommate and began nursing on Hillary's other breast. She returned her fingers to Hillary's ass and began slowly working them in and out, to the ever-increasing moans of pleasure from the other woman.

Thrashing about, Hillary realized that when Grace had sat up to lean over, she had ended up straddling Hillary's arm. Hillary extracted her arm and began gently rubbing the other woman's back. As her lust grew, so did Hillary's bravery. Slowly, she moved her circles lower on Grace's back. And then she was at Grace's waistband. Here we go, Hillary thought as she slid her hand down and firmly cupped the petite woman's ass. Grace, for her part, didn't flinch, but she did make an appreciative noise from around Hillary's nipple. Hillary marveled at the dense muscle that made up the shorter woman's backside. Everything about Grace was petite, but proportional. She has a really nice ass, Hillary thought. Feeling boldness from the other woman's reactions thus far and from the arousal coursing through her own veins, Hillary returned her hand to the small of Grace's back. This time, when she lowered her hand, she took Grace's shorts and underwear with it.

Grace paused. This wasn't how she had envisioned this playing out. She had intended to milk Hillary and, in all likelihood, masturbate her to orgasm. The masturbation was in part Grace's desire to experience Hillary on her own terms. In part, it was slightly out of selfishness. Grace was exhausted. She felt that the odds of both of them getting a good night's sleep would go up, if Hillary wasn't pent up with arousal. Given Hillary's reaction to Grace walking in on her earlier in the day, the Asian woman wouldn't be comfortable taking care of her sexual needs in front of Grace for some time. But now this. Hillary was actively trying to pleasure Grace. This would move Grace's planned, methodical, clinical encounter into full on lesbian territory. With a start, she realized that the other woman was brushing the backs of her fingers against Grace's pussy. Even more shockingly was the realization that she was wet. Grace had no clue if it was because she, on some level, was aroused at the thought of pleasuring Hillary, or if she enjoyed the mild humiliation and submission she had **** on Hillary by making her beg before Grace would truly satisfy her, or if her transformation was already affecting her mind. Grace's thoughts were shattered when a raised knuckle ran up her slit and bumped her clit. She moaned into Hillary's tit, while she worked her fingers in and out of Hillary. As Grace was gently easing her index finger into Hillary's tightness, Hillary surprised her yet again. Removing her hand from where it wrapped around the shorter woman's back and ass to where she could grab Grace's pussy, Hillary reached her hand between the two bodies and came at Grace's pussy from underneath. With her thumb, Hillary slid into Grace, and began massaging the front wall of Grace's pussy with her thumb while her middle finger rubbed against Grace's clit.

Grace moaned appreciatively. Hillary found the sensation of the other woman's vagina and mons to be interesting and different from her own. Grace's pubic hair was in a neat, tidy landing strip. And everywhere else, was as smooth as could be. Where Hillary's pubic hair was fine and soft, Grace's was of a more coarse texture. Bringing her other hand into play, Hillary reached for Grace's breasts. So petite, like their owner. Just a handful. So delightfully firm. Her nipples, Hillary realized, were quite long. Sticking out maybe half an inch, Hillary was surprised that breasts as small as Grace's would have nipples so large. When Hillary had seen Grace's naked body after Grace's shower, she had observed that the pale woman's nipples nearly blended into the rest of Grace's pale skin. In her arousal, those pale, pale pink circles had picked up a slightly darker flush. Hillary toyed with them, first lightly pinching one, Then rolling the other. She brought her hand to her mouth, and wetting her fingers with her tongue, returned them to Grace's nipple where she continued her manual onslaught.

Hillary was the first to cum. Arching her back and moaning, her hand left Grace's breasts and shot between her legs, holding Grace's hand and fingers in place as she spasmed around them. Grace had long since drained Hillary's breasts. She had been alternating back and forth between the two, playing with the nipple rings, while humping back against Hillary's hand. As Hillary recovered, she noticed the flushed face and the frantic pace with which Grace was impaling herself on Hillary's fingers. Making up her mind, Hillary gently pressed Grace's head away from her breast. Grace, still working her pussy on Hillary's thumb, looked questioningly at Hillary. Hillary removed her hand, and sitting up, rotated the lust-addled prosecutor until she had her back to the headboard. Gently, Hillary laid Grace back and moved between the other woman's legs. Grace finally clued in to what was happening and tried to protest.

"Shhh, Grace. I know I don't have to do this. I'm scared shitless, if I'm honest. But you didn't have to do that for me. And I'm pretty sure this is where we're headed eventually. So while I have my courage, let me, please?" Hillary leaned forward and planted a kiss on Grace's prominent clit. Shuddering, Grace moaned and gently pulled Hillary towards her pussy. Hillary began to lick.

*****

Stunned, Dave started when his empty bourbon glass fell to the floor with a loud THUMP! "Holy shit! Jane? Lou? And Grace? Hillary?" He had never been so hard in his life. He had cum three times already, watching his partner and ex-wife, a prosecutor and his nemesis, all nude, all pleasuring each other. With a bout of post-nut clarity, he cursed himself. Why couldn't you turn the fucking channel, you fucking creeper? In Dave's defense, he hadn't quite understood how the remote worked until, as he was holding it in his hand, an errant thought of Jane from the hallway had crossed his mind, and the next thing he knew, he had a birds-eye view from inside Jane and Louise's cabin. The sound quality had been excellent. He had heard everything. He had discovered too, that with the remote, he could change the angle of the shot. After Jane had been brought to a second, impressive-looking orgasm, Dave had, with his cock in his hand, ashamedly thought about what he was doing and tried to think of the least sexy thing he could think of...Hillary. To his surprise, the scene between Grace and Hillary had unfolded right before his eyes. Now, with his dick back in his pants, and a hand towel soiled from his exertions, Dave began to think. Looking at the clock, it was nearly 1 AM. I know that Lou and Jane didn't waste much time when they got back, but surely Grace and Hillary didn't sit and talk for two hours before getting freaky, right? With that thought, the screen immediately switched and in the upper left-hand corner were the words, "Live View". Where just moments before, Grace and Hillary had been wrapping up their maiden voyage into lesbian territory, the screen now showed the two of them in bed. Hillary wrapping her considerably larger frame around Grace in a classic "big spoon, little spoon" configuration, "Sonofa bitch", he muttered. Of course this fucking TV is gonna show me just the sexy shit. How am I gonna look them in the eye tomorrow? Dave felt dirty. He had spied on a pair of intimate moments, between people who found themselves in an **** situation and who were trying their best to make it through on their own terms as much as possible. He found that he just didn't have the same hatred towards Hillary as he had had just a day prior. By no means was everything hunky-dory between the two of them, but on more than one occasion since his arrival, he had caught himself feeling sorry for the tall Asian woman who had caused such destruction in his personal life. None of those moments were private, you know, the Voice whispered. Have you forgotten you're on a fucking TV show? Someone's always watching. How many chicks just jilled off watching you jerk off? The Voice laughed evilly. How many DUDES jerked off watching you jerk off? "Shut up! Leave me alone! I've fucking done what you wanted. I told them I would. Get out of my fucking head! Fuck. Off!" Dave panted, his chest heaving. Nah. I think I'll stick around a bit more. I've been looking around in here and there's still WAY too many regrets floating around. You've gotta do something about this bitchy morality shit, bro. It's gotta go! And I'm not just saying that. I'm saying that because YOU know it. And I know it because YOU know it. I'm your fucking subconscious, dickhead. I'm not going anywhere. And neither are you and these girls unless you fucking nut up and get to bangin', bro! You PROMISED Lou. You OWE it to Jane. You just fucking owe Hillary. But lest you forget, Jane and Lou were dead-ass on the money. They ain't getting outta here in a recognizable fashion without YOUR intervention. You notice that the only source of VP is from either challenges or doing sexy stuff with you? Jane and Angela didn't get shit for fooling around together. The only points they got were for showing you their cunts. There's not a whole lot of first time bonuses left. Which means that YOU'RE gonna have to start carrying your weight, bucko. Bitch to me if you need to, but you better do right by those girls. If you think I'm a pain in the ass, remember your Guilt Complex? Now that motherfucker could ruin just about anything fun. So if you wanna keep him away, you're gonna have to roll with me, homie. But again, you already FUCKING KNOW THIS! So reach down, remind yourself that you've got some balls, and fucking nut up and handle business! And for once, maybe, just for funsies, take a walk on the wild side and think with your dick every now and again. Remember, it's for the girls.

Dave sighed. How many people would ever admit to full-on conversations with themselves? He still wasn't 100% sure that what was allegedly his subconscious wasn't some hidden transformation put on him by Sage. Upon further reflection, he concluded that it didn't matter one way or the other. He doubted she would tell him if she had. And if she did even bother to answer his question, he would always question if she had told him the truth. Sighing, he slumped back down in his chair. Might as well check on the twins and Suze. At least they're not suffering from some crazy arousal curse thing. And with a thought, the screen flipped to the Pretty Kitties cabin.

*****

Sage sat back and smiled. Tonight had gone perfectly. She frowned. OK, not perfectly. But pretty good? Decent? It wasn't a flaming trainwreck? She tried again. Once everyone had returned to their cabins, things had gone perfectly. She paused, waiting for the universe to strike her down in her hubris. As nothing continued to happen, she began to relax.

"Terry"

"I know you're working. I'm your boss. I am the one who gave you your fucking job. Is the dream queued up?"

"What? No! Not MY dream! The one for the twins! THAT dream! Is it ready to go?"

"Good. Tell Dorothy nice job on her feed-splicing to the Master's screen. He watched nearly two and a half hours straight."

"Terry! I know we do and say some fucked up shit, but damn! I will do my best to pretend you didn't say that. Also, never say that again."

"Yes, I'm serious. That little nightmare is gonna live rent-free in my fucking skull for a bit, thanks to you."

"That wasn't a legitimate expression of gratitude, you fucking simpleton. Telling me, 'You're welcome' was about as welcome as a fart during mass."

"It's not, Terry. A fart in mass wouldn't be welcomed. Fuck me. I need to call Dakota. That bitch knows how to handle subordinates. Look, do you have the dream ready to go? This is a yes or no answer. Do not elaborate."

"Good. Now, I want you to write this down and when I'm done talking, you're going to read it back to me. Understand? Good. So I want to tweak it just a hair. Here's how it's gonna go..."