Mrs. Bush

You are about to give up on Cupcake and think of someone for her when the redheaded bimbo perks up and points.

"Her!" she exclaims. "I choose her!"

You look where the former librarian is pointing. On the library wall is a motivational poster, one in a series of famous people reading a book with 'READ!' printed below it in bold letters. On this particular poster is another former librarian, former first lady Laura Bush.

"Really?" you ask Cupcake.

"Uh-huh!" she nods enthusiastically. "She's my hero!"

You shrug. You've not used your power in this way before but if you can make Norma into Cupcake how much more of a stretch could it be? You wrap your arm around Cupcake's waste and focus your will.

In a flash, you find yourself and Cupcake in a bathroom in Crawford, Texas. On the toilet is a rather startled Laura Bush. She opens her mouth to scream.

"Calm down, Mrs. Bush!" you tell here, willing her not to freak out. "It's all right!"

She closes her mouth and looks at the two of you, clearly confused.

"Who are you people?" she asks in her calm, pleasant Texas accent. "How did you get past the secret service?"

You had forgot that she would have secret service agents in charge of her security. But with a thought, you take care of that, realizing that Mrs. Bush's agents are a pair of really hot lesbians who were busy 69ing each other in the stables of the ranch while every one else, Mrs. Bush's husband included, were out of town and not due back until tomorrow. The former first lady shook her head disapprovingly as she realized where her bodyguards must be.

"We're sorry to startle you, Mrs. Bush," you say. "I'm Tommy and we just came here because Cupcake here is a big fan and she thought you'd make a great bimbo!"

The woman on the toilet frowns.

"No offense," she says, "But this, um, Cupcake was it? She seems a bit touched in the head. And I certainly am no bimbo. Never have been. Never will be."

"Well, of course not!" you agree, thinking that the first lady should start stroking her twat rather than covering it up with her hand as she sits on the toilet, making herself intensely and distractingly aroused. "But given that you popped out Jenna, you must have a little bit of the bimbo in you! And it would mean so much to Cupcake if you just humored her a little."

"I...I wouldn't really call Jenna a bimbo," Jenna's mother tried to object. "She just has some...um...some self control issues. She...ooooh....she likes to party and...ummm....she gets....horny....so very, very horny... out of control horny."

"Of course," you nod sympathetically as Mrs. Bush begin breathing very heavily, her legs spread there on the toilet, her eyes unfocused, her head lolling about on her shoulders. "Cupcake gets out of control horny too, don't you Cupcake?"

"I suck dick!" Cupcake announced, then giggled.

"Yes, yes....of course you do..." the masturbating first lady said distractedly. "Now, if you two will...um...excuse me...I really, really need to....to get off!"

"Yes, yes of course," you say. "I just, well, I really think you could get off better if you were younger."

The seated woman regresses several decades to land in her midtwenties.

"Oh...oh yes!" she agrees, youthened fingers frantic on her rejuvenated cunt.

"And if you had longer hair and bigger titties," you observe, as her chestnut brown hair grows down to her waist and her boobs swell to one and a half times bigger than her head, shredding her bra and denim shirt.

"Oh...oh god yes!" Laura agrees, grabbing her left nipple with her free hand.

"And especially if you were a potty-mouthed sex kitten who lived to party and didn't give a flying fuck what anybody thought about it," you conclude, driving her to the most powerful orgasm of her life.

"Oh yes! Oh yes! Oh fuck me yes! Fuck me like a whore! Fuck me like a whore!" she screams out, bucking along on the toilet seat, abusing herself with vigor as she shudders and cums.

Cupcakes squeals and claps. You smile at your handiwork. Now THAT is a first lady.

"Fuck all mercy!" Laura says once she has come down. "That was absa-fucking-incredible!"

"You certainly seemed to enjoy it," you observe. "Oh, by the way, why don't I help you out with your outfit."

With a thought, the sexed-up Mrs. Bush is wearing a red and white checked shirt, unbuttoned and tied beneath her titanic titties. A straw cowboy hat is on her head. A pair of red cowboy boots grace her feet. A pair of cut-off jeans, low riding and skin tight, are around her ankles as she is still sitting on the toilet.

"Well that's just so nice of you!" she says, her Texan accent becoming more predominant and with breathy, sexy undertones. "And look at me! Here you are my guests and I haven't shown you any Texan hospitality at all! Let's head on down to the kitchen where I can welcome y'all proper!"