Probing Secrets Slash Nethers

Not too long after, you're comfortably ensconced within an actual honest-to-god personal screening room, the promised pizza cooling and mostly forgotten as you and your slightly embarrassed but absolutely game mother roar with laughter at Face Taker 2. And in a turn of events only magic could have produced, it's somehow simultaneously way worse and drastically better than the original. If you're piecing together the infamously flimsy Face Taker mythos correctly, your mother must have had her face taken at some point in the first movie. Because now he's back, or more accurately she is back, because the killer has fully donned your mom's visage as a disguise. But apparently the title undersells the Face Taker's Taking ability, because by some crazy happenstance the killer has your mother's tits as well.

And you know, even without the giant breasts it would be hard to take your eyes off of her. She's not exactly good, per se, though to be fully fair this is apparently her second movie ever. She actually looks like she's right about your age in this one. But what Mallory Price the Movie Star lacked in polished talent, she already made up for with a truly staggering presence and charisma. She absolutely leaps off of the screen, and whenever she isn't present you can't help but wonder when she's going to reappear and liven things up again. It makes sense, really. You've never known anyone to have such passion and devotion for singularly awful cinema, and you are maybe the only person left in existence who knows exactly to what degree your mother is living her dream up there.

And besides, the ending shot of Face Taker 2 is of the President spinning around in his chair to reveal your mother's expansive rack almost competently green screened over his chest, a moment that even by itself would be enough to justify fundamentally altering reality.

Which leads to the million dollar question, the question you'd avoided thinking about all morning. Are you really going to try and change all of this back? You're rich, you're secure, you've never looked or felt better. Your mother is literally living her dream life! You give her a sidelong look, the glow in her face having more to do with her utterly contented smile than the screen. And the downside is...you actually feel sort of bad listing 'is a girl' as a downside, but that's really it isn't it? Undoing all of this, putting you and your mother back in the awful situation you'd been shepherded into, it would all be just so you could have a penis again. You decide on the spot that fuck whether you can do it, you won't do that to your mother. No one deserves more happiness than she does, and no matter what you're going to make sure she gets to keep it. And honestly, you sort of don't mind being a girl. You actually kinda like it. Holy shit, maybe you really like it?

It's around this point you realize that, in your reverie, your mother sneakily queued up The Curse of the Witch's Curse. Fucking Mom. You shoot her an annoyed glance that she puckishly ignores before wriggling further back into your seat and resigning yourself to a bunch of arty European non-horror and subtitle reading. Ugh. It's like whoever made this walked out of Suspiria and said to themselves, 'You know, I liked the pretension, but I bet I could do it without gore or a script or any money.'

She's lucky you're a dutiful child, or you'd seriously start reconsidering this whole Dream Life thing.

Once your mother's applause for the still just as baffling as you remember ending of The Curse of the Witch's Curse finally dies down, she turns her head to waggle her eyebrows at you. "Want to run out another? I was actually in some good movies. Roger Ebert gave my Sorrows of Young Werther three stars, you know."

You've already Googled it. "Howard Stern said, quote, 'Goethe has never been easier to jack off to'."

Your mother scoffs. "Well clearly he never saw my Faust."

Grinning, you rise from your seat with a rueful shake of your head. "Sorry Mom, I've got some things to, um, look into. This was fun though!"

She gives a mock pout, but gamely offers her cheek as you lean down to give her a kiss. "Well okay. Love you, Ash."

"Love you too, Mom!"

With that you bound from the screening room, quickly making your way up the stairs and to your room. You desperately want to spend some time just luxuriating in the wonders that you find yourself in, but there's business to take care of first. You still aren't going to try to undo things, you further resolve as you dig through your bag. But just because you aren't going to undo things, that doesn't mean things couldn't be better.

You reverently lift the book from its confines, running a hand across its unmarked cover as you carry it over to the ornate vanity. You carefully set the book down, flip it open to The Chest of Overflowing Bounty, and give yourself a serious look.

"Okay. We're doing this."

You pull your tee shirt off, your determination immediately sidetracked as you get your first look at yourself in just a bra. Jesus Fucking Christ. The shirt had more or less dangled off of the expanse of your breasts like a makeshift crop top, disguising their exact size a bit. But now you're stunned all over again to see yourself, this adorably punky girl with astonishingly big tits. You lift your arms up and twist to the side, gawping at how far your weighty breasts extend beyond your rib cage. What is it, six inches? Seven? The echo of a memory replies Eight in the back of your mind, and then sassily adds ...for now. You fully turn around, and are not surprised that the sides of your breasts are absolutely visible from behind.

You reach back, unsnapping your bra's multiple clasps with magically-granted expertise. You reach up and catch the big cups with both hands as the garment starts to fall away, turning back to shyly peek at yourself. You gulp at the sight of the girl in the mirror, biting her lip as her arms all but overflow with boob, giant bra barely keeping her decent. Then you drop your arms and catch your breath as you take in yourself in your full, unbound glory.

Your breasts are big. It's not the most eloquent thought, but it's the only one you can manage for a while as you stare at the overgrown melons that slowly wobble around your slender chest. When you can manage a second thought, it's that they are really fucking pretty as well. Now that the initial shock as worn off, you can definitely acknowledge that you've seen breasts this big before, and bigger. Really only within the world of big bust models, sure, and even then you're definitely a big girl, but if size is the only comparison you don't take top prize. But they are absolutely the best looking breasts you've ever seen. Boobs this big are usually misshapen and lumpy, or long and droopy like an empty pillow case. Yours, however, are a each a perfect teardrop, round and full yet with that just that little bit of delightful sag that couldn't make them anything other than natural. As natural as magically-granted breasts can be, anyway. They even seem to be the exact same size.

At some point you realize you've folded your arms behind your head again, grinning like a dope as you slowly sway, sending your prodigious rack rippling from side to side. God you love your boobs. You let out a little hum of pleasure as your fat nipples start to stiffen, then abruptly shake the distraction from your head and give your reflection a pointed glare. "Hey. Hey. Save that for later, okay?"

Your reflection seems to take that in with a particularly smug look.

Okay, enough playing around. You look down at the page of prayers, steadying yourself with a deep breath. Then you puff out your chest, catch your own gaze in the mirror and start to recite. And just like before it...well, no, it's actually just a stream of nonsense this time. You furrow your brow, then puff your chest out even more and try again. Still nothing! What the fuck, is this some sort of one time only deal? If you were being fair, you'd have to admit that you've gotten more than a fair shake from all of this, but you're still annoyed as you scan the page again to see where you went wrong.

Oh. There it is. 'The great need in your bosom bared to the world'. You've got the 'great' and the 'bosom' part down and then some, but 'need' isn't really a part of your vocabulary anymore. Face facts, Ash: your life is too amazing now for Magic.

You flop back onto your bed with a grumpy sigh, letting the book drop to your side and barely avoiding getting knocked out by your own flopping breasts. You just lay there for a moment, grumbling as you watch your vast breasts ponderously rock back and forth while settling across your chest, spreading out to your either side but keeping their shape remarkably well. For a moment, you just lie there, the sound of your soft breath filling your ears. Then you carefully gather up as much of your chest as you can in one petite arm and hesitantly reach down to rub your suddenly intrigued womanhood.

The shiver that runs deep inside you is the first sign that you're doing this right, which had been a legitimate worry. A quiet little moan rumbles in the back of your throat as you shift your fingers around to pinch a happily throbbing nipple. Your plump little bud sends shocks of pleasure down to your steadily moistening pussy, but even after you worked in a finger and then added a second you can't help but feel like you need something more.

Moving on autopilot, you release your heaving breast and shove your hands underneath your bed pillows, questing around for something. Before long you find it: a velvet drawstring bag with what feels suspiciously like a dildo inside. Sure enough, your clever hands pop back into view with a pink and black rabbit vibrator, pausing long enough to give yourself one last playful rub before sliding it into your thrilled vagina.

You had no hope of stifling your first groan of primal pleasure, ecstasy boiling inside you as stuff your aching snatch. You quickly gather up one massive breast and angle it upward, popping your stiff nipple and as much tit as you can manage into your mouth to try and muffle your cries of delight. You suck and fuck yourself for what seems like an eternity, pleasure roiling throughout your body as you climb towards a peak of pure rapture. With a sudden spasm, your pussy sends an explosion of bliss rocketing up your spine and directly into your brain, forcing you to release your boob with a gasp as you **** for air.

Wow.

You laugh wearily, arching your back as you deliciously stretch out your limbs. That was...yeah, wow. Undoing all of this is definitely not on the menu. You give the book, knocked open from your self-ministrations, a bit of a rueful glance. Guess it's not so bad that you used up all the magic, huh? Your expression changes to one of shock as your eyes focus more clearly on the revealed pages. Holy shit, the words are starting to shift! It's just like when the book hit you on the head from before! Wait...what if that shock of bad fortune was what you needed for that spell, but the others needed some other type of jolt to the system?

You immediately hike up your legs, hooking one arm around your knees as you reach around your perky butt to work the vibrator back between your still very ready lips, grunting happily as you go to work on your squealing pussy. Your life is amazing and jilling off is amazing and you're going to be a goddamn witch.

This is, without question, the greatest day of your life.