Re-Introducing Duchess

You aren't sure exactly when you dozed off to sleep, but it's definitely one of three things that woke you up: It was either the Duchess's frenzied yapping, your utterly furious morning wood you're sporting, or the loud crash of someone throwing themselves through your window. Either way you don't have much in the way of a response, other than to burst wildly from the bed and become entangled in your sheets, sending yourself crashing to the floor.

At least the dog stops barking, the little puffball strutting over to helpfully lick your nose as a mortified Dogsbody quickly begins to help you up. "Sir, I was still, last night was so, Sir was just, I didn't..." She cuts off with a gasp as you're pulled struggling to your feet, lips quivering as her eyes tear up. "I...I have failed Sir..."

Aw shit, ignoring the break in for a second; how do you deal with this? Something tells you that trying to convince to Dogsbody that you don't blame her, and besides it isn't her fault, will just make things worse, despite being totally true. You wrench your arm out of your tangle of sheets, firmly placing your hand on the trembling girl's shoulder. Fuck, how to word this. "I forgive you, Dogsbody. I, um, know you won't fail me again."

She gives a little sob but looks up at you with an expression of utter gratitude, slipping her hand over yours. "Sir is too good to me." She sniffles one last time before shifting towards her more typically professional tone. "Allow me to help Sir with that."

What does that ohhhhhkay. Apparently Dogsbody was referring to your massive morning erection, because you find yourself enveloped in a soft massaging hand that pumps you once, twice, and then an extra twisting third time that causes you to explode all over the discarded bedding in a frankly absurd rope of cum. Fuck, you really did go overboard but you do not give a shit right now.

You try wriggling back into your pants as Dogsbody wads up the utterly drenched sheets and carries them over to the window. You, meanwhile, are at a bit of an impasse on what to do with your dick. You find you simply cannot fasten your pants correctly with an extra half pound of penis clogging them up. It's a pretty awesome problem, but still obnoxious. Before you can figure out your own solution, Dogsbody officiously chucks the ruined sheets out of the broken window and glides back to you. "May I assist Sir?"

"Uh, sure?"

Your butler delicately reaches a clever little hand into your pants, shifting your now bulbous nuts a bit as she threads your upsized dick down one pant leg and fastens you up. It's not exactly comfortable, and when she gives your bulging groin a little pat your shaft visibly strains your pants, but at least the fucking things are on until you can find someone to tailor you up some leggings with a fucking dick pouch or whatever.

Dogsbody straightens. "Now, as to Sir's uninvited guest. It does not appear that any of Sir's belongings have been stolen."

Oh huh, that sort of seems to be right. Dogsbody would know better than you, but as far as you can tell everything seems to be where it had been. Then why break it; was someone trying to kill you or something? Did the Orb...? You glance over, more than a little annoyed to see that the bimbo demon is still cutely snoring, winking a little (。-ω-)zzz face. Not that you entirely trust her to tell you the truth anyway. So no one actually saw the break in besides....

You look down at the fluff poof that's jumping at your ankles, begging to be picked up. Right, only the dog. You bend down to pick her up, the Duchess barking in glee as she buries herself in the crook of your arm. Maybe there's a way...? You summon your magical book and start flipping through it.

After a long search in which you grow increasingly irritated, you finally admit that there's nothing in your dumbed down version of Ultimate Power that isn't expressly related to sex, let alone something to specifically let you talk to dogs or make an animal smarter. If this is going to work, you're going to have to come at it sideways. And that's when your first real idea bubbles up. You furrow your brow, flipping back to a previous entry as you remark aloud to the butler. "So, humor me. You'd say that a bimbo is smarter than a dog, right?"

If Dogsbody thinks this is a stupid question, she doesn't give a hint of it. "I should say so, Sir."

"Like, a bimbo is dumb, but human dumb right?"

"Sir has outlined the matter admirably."

Right, well, okay. Maybe this is a terrible idea; The Duchess already seems pretty much like the dog version of a bimbo. But if there's a solution to any of your problems that doesn't involve semi-randomly using powers you only superficially understand, well, then you're out of ideas. You raise your hand, a pink glow appearing around the fluffy dog. She cocks her head to one side, giving a quizzical little 'arf', and then there is a giant poof of pink smoke and instead of a little poofball of a dog, your arms are filled with a little poofball of a girl.

Your eyes go wide as you immediately remember the vision you had of The Duchess, a picture of rapacious carnality trying and succeeding at bursting out of a demure noblewoman's facade, because the girl who blinks airheadedly as she clutches herself to you is absolutely her overripe daughter. She has the the same features that blend elegant nobility with wanton sexuality, sophisticated cheekbones alongside ample dicksucking lips with a piquant little beauty spot to tie it all together, though on her they are filtered through the fresh-faced youthfulness of a newly blossomed woman who's just discovered sex and now doesn't care to think about anything else.

Thick snow-white hair that seems used to being styled up extravagantly curls messily down her body, and what a goddamn body it is. She is an ungodly mix of pert, youthful tautness and utterly plush softness, the sort of body that can only come from having the means to totally care for ones' self all while cheerfully avoiding anything that could be considered laborious or difficult. She is very petite over all, but apparently her breasts and ass departments didn't get that particular memo because they opted to go for 'stacked' instead. Boobs that would be the terror of fancy dress makers everywhere squish into your chest even as Duchess pulls back to look wide-eyed down at her new body. Fuck, this is the sort of girl you'd know was busty even if you were seeing her from behind. If you weren't hypnotized by her behind, that is. Deliciously rounded hips give way to two half-globes of milky white perfection, somehow plump and firm all that the same time.

It's like someone tried to create a porn parody of Marie Antoinette, decided it was way too much, then you came around and stamped a big "APPROVED" mark on it.

You're noticing now, though, as Duchess stares up at you with big, guileless brown eyes that she still has a few, well, doggy traits that survived the bimbo spell. She still has little flipped over puppy ears, looking as if they could easily be hidden within her coiffure, and a fluffy little curled tail hesitantly wags just over her perfect peach of an ass. More startling is that when she stretches up to look you more directly in the eyes, she reveals a second pair of plump little B cup breasts all but hidden under her significantly larger upper rack, perky little nipples stiffening as they're freed from the boob-prison of their weightier upstairs neighbors.

Dogsbody seems a bit taken aback, clearing her throat. "Sir is certainly...creative." That's the fucking truth.

When the butler takes a step forward, however, Duchess immediately wraps her arms around your head, shoving your face deep into her chasm of creamy cleavage as she snarls in an otherwise bubbly little voice. "No, stay away! Daddy's mine, not yours; he's mine!"

So you turned your dog into a bimbo. What were you trying to achieve again?