Not yet. Get ready.

As your orgasm subsides, you let him go. He pushes your legs apart and stands between your massive thighs. He slowly inserts himself into your wet, sloshy cunt, and starts pumping his small cock. It’s kind of like those very small dogs trying to fuck your shoe, a bit pathetic but not much of a nuisance. He accelerates a bit, but you don’t feel much. Maybe at some point something happens, you muse, hoping for decent sex.

Suddenly he tenses, grunts, and then sheepishly looks at you. “I’m sorry, D-A, I came inside. I hope it’s, like, fine? I mean, you know, like, on the right days of the month and stuff?”

Well, have I news for you…

You don’t take the “news” very well, but after a bit of shouting back and forth, a conclusion is reached.

You are from now on in a relationship with yourself. Lol. Eventually you get married to yourself. The sex never gets any better, but it’s pointless anyway. You never get any slimmer, a big fat girl with her skinny man. After a while, you find a job at the McDonut, providing fast-food to people in need. The world needs people like you. You are useful.

It’s not what you’d planned for yourself, but none of you is hardcore enough to path a way to a better life from where the spell took you. Your life is tolerable. It’s more than many can say.

The end