Good Boys Getting Treats

Asher pushed back his headphones as he felt another body sinking down beside him on the couch, cracking open eyes he realized hadn't been open for some time now. Hours, maybe. Even with his sight blurred and straining in the low light of the living room, however, there was no chance he could ever mistake the woman still giving him a cautious bit of space for anyone else. He held out his hand, and she took it without a moment's hesitation. "Hey."

"Hey." Mallory carefully slipped under Asher's arm, nestling into the man's shoulder. "Ash went to bed. Maybe you should, too."

"I've been asleep for almost twenty years, Mallory. I can stay up a bit longer."

"Mm." Mallory leaned over to pluck the empty record sleeve up from the ground, splaying out across Asher's lap as she scanned the cover art. "You've missed a lifetime of music, and you've been listening to the same Bowie record on repeat. Nothing but Scary Monsters."

"And Super Creeps."

"Right. Can't forget those." She let the sleeve slip back down to the ground as she reached up, gently running her fingers down the side of Asher's face. "I still can't believe you're back. It doesn't feel real."

Asher lightly pressed his hand against Mallory's, holding it against his cheek. He seemed ready to agree, or offer some thoughts of his own, or anything really. But whatever his intended response was, it was lost the moment Mallory's robe slipped open to reveal the glorious expanse of her lushly cavernous cleavage.

Mallory followed Asher's dumbstruck gaze down to her invitingly displayed décolletage, turning a little read as she mumbled up at her husband. "Oh. Um, I'm sorry. I know you probably aren't ready for--" Her sheepish expression changes to one of surprise as she flinches her head off of Asher's lap, flipping around to stare in awe at the growing bulge that smacked her in the back of the neck. "Oh! Well. That certainly felt real."

"Sorry, I'm just...and you're so..." Asher's voice trailed off into a low groan as Mallory slipped her free hand onto his lap, lightly gripping and massaging his still-swelling hard-on. The woman purred in response as he let his arm slide down her perfect body, his voice cracking with emotion and increasing need. "I've never felt like this with anyone else, Mallory. I...I love you. I've always loved you and will always love you."

Slipping her hand into her robe long enough to pull it aside, allowing her enormous breasts to squish into her husband's lap, Mallory could only smile. "I love you, too. I--?!" The sentimental moment paused as she managed to dislodge Asher's furious erection from his pants, leaving her staring open-mouthed at the pillar throbbing in her overmatched fingers. "Jesus Christ! Asher, whatever happened to ruby-tinted glasses? This is fucking new, right?"

"Um, that's sort of a parting gift from Magic, I think."

"Hmm~" Asher could only groan again as Mallory gave him a teasing little lick, then snugly squeezed his girth in the marshmallowy prison of her breasts. "You're a perfect fit, Cinderella."

Clever wordplay didn't seem to be on the menu for Asher at the moment, the man leaning back his head in pleasure as Mallory began masterfully massaging his manhood with her all-consuming chests. The most he could manage was to slip his questing hand under the hem of her robe, his fingers--

"Jessie."

Your cousin gives at start at your sudden interruption. "What?"

"Why. The fuck. Do you think I want to hear about my own parents fucking."

Jessie sulks, slumping her shoulder so hard that her heavy breasts put visible strain lines into her bikini top. "Why wouldn't you? Don't you care that they're, like, still into each other? Or do you just not like foreplay?" Jessie seems to decide that's the reason, giving you a deeply judgemental look. "You gotta do that stuff, Ashley. You gotta bring more to the table than just a hot body; try being a giving partner and shit."

Oh my god. "Jessie, I do foreplay. Okay? I even do aft play. I just don't want--"

Your cousin waves her hand dismissively. "Fine, whatever. I'll just skip ahead."

"No, I--!"

--Asher mumbled something into Mallory's lips as they passionately locked together, her arms tightly clenching the back of his head even as his guided her gyrating hips into his lap. She rolled up and down in a sensuous arch, moaning in ecstasy each time she bottomed out onto--

"Jessie!"

"Ugh, fine."

"Why were you even spying on them in the first place?"

Your cousin huffs in indignation. "They were screwing in the living room, okay? I didn't, like, drill a peephole through their bedroom wall or some shit. I wasn't spying. Gawd, Ashley." She shoves the refrigerator door shut, pouring herself a glass of orange juice as self-righteously as she can manage. Once she's taken a long sip, however, she lets the facade drop. "So he's really your dad? From all those movies and stuff?"

You so desperately want to glance at your watch, but you know that'd set Jessie off. You've got places to be though, goddammit it. "Yeah. It's really him."

"Huh." Jessie stares down at her glass of juice, her expression darkening a little. For a moment, you think you have a window to just split, but then she mutters with an unmistakably bitter tone. "That's something else you get, I guess. You're so fucking lucky, Ashley."

That gives you pause. Your immediate instinct was to snap back at her, but...well, you still remember that phone call with her parents you overheard. She isn't wrong. "I know, Jessie. I..." Wait, maybe you know how to play this. "Actually, I'm glad you brought this up. My dad being back needs to stay quiet."

"Really?" Jessie furrows her brow, not expecting this shift in the conversation. "Why?"

"Oh man, so many reasons. Tax stuff, legal stuff...it's all pretty messed up. Mom said we need to jump through a lot of hoops before he can get all his rights and such. Apparently getting someone declared Not Dead is super complicated." Jessie still seems unsure, so you go in for the kill. "So for now, it needs to stay a Price Family Secret. Okay?"

There's no missing the way Jessie perks up at that. "Really? Just family?"

You nod gravely. "Yes. Just us, and Jenny--"

"Jenny too?!"

"...and Isabelle. That's it."

"Hrm." Your cousin mulls over that, apparently trying to decide if Isabelle's involvement ruins this for her. As she does, you finally notice that the strain lines in her undersized top haven't gone anywhere. "Well I guess I--"

"Jessie, are your boobs bigger?"

This time a blind man wouldn't miss the way Jessie brightens, your cousin immediately sticking her ponderously heavy rack out at you. "Um, yes?! All my clothes are tighter since yesterday, so I guess I'm getting another growth spurt? I'm definitely going to be bigger than you, just you fucking watch."

Uh-huh, sure. Taking the opportunity to inspect Jessie's proffered tits, it strikes you that while they are probably a bit bigger overall, mostly they seem fuller and heavier. Much fuller, actually. You've grown pretty familiar with Jessie's boobs in recent weeks, and the already overripe orbs she had yesterday have blossomed into true blue-ribbon udders.

Wait. Yesterday. Oh shit, now you get it. It was the mouthful of milk she managed to suckle out of you Friday morning. It must have supercharged the magic that turned her into a milky moo or something. And that also answers the question of what happened to Quinn. A droplet of your milk turned a spell that was intended to merely put him in touch with his inner self into one that literally makes him his inner self. At least now you can scratch Quinn's transformation being some sort of outside attack off the list.

Not that it's going to make your meeting with him any easier. Neither will showing up late, though, so you'd better hurry. You shrug magnanimously at Jessie, her chest still out thrust. "Well, what can I say? Congrats on the tits." She preens as you start towards the door, conspiratorially tapping your finger to the side of your nose. "Just remember. Price Family Secret. Okay?"

She nods happily, and you let out a breath of relief. Okay. Well, that's taken care of. No rest for the wicked, however. Saturday has only just begun, and your to-do list isn't getting any shorter. It's time to go face the music.

"You know, I always thought this was the Bad Starbucks."

You follow Quinn's glance as he takes in the new sights of what he rightfully considered to be the shitty Starbucks. Under the new management of Lottie, however, and the able work of a half-dozen other freshly inducted moo girls, everything seems to be running smoothly. Maybe a little too smoothly, actually; apparently actual customers have started showing up. That suits your long-term plans well enough, but for now, it means your days of freely using this place as a secondary meeting ground are limited. Oh well. "It is. Was. We've made some changes. We're probably going to branch off on our own soon, rename the place and everything."

"You can do that?" The boy shakes his head. "Wait. Of course you can. Magic."

You aren't misgendering Quinn, by the way. At least you're pretty sure you aren't. He's certainly presenting masculine today, and his tight t-shirt seems to be displaying pecs rather than breasts. "So, are you binding, or...?"

"Huh? Oh." Quinn glances down at himself. "No, I woke up this way. I think I just...shift to however I'm feeling on any given day, or something."

"Ah. Well, that sounds convenient?"

The boy makes a noise of agreement, fiddling with the straw of his drink. There's a long moment of awkward silence, and then you both speak at once.

"Quinn, I'm so sorry I--"

"Ash, I want to--"

You both fall silent together, sheepishly waiting for the other to continue on. At length, Quinn speaks up. "Can I go first?" You nod, and he steadies himself with a breath before continuing on. "I just wanted to say that, well, you've given me something that any other person in my situation would dream about getting. Like, if I'd known how I felt about myself earlier, I'd have wished for literally this exact gift every single night. And out of everyone else in the world, I'm the one who got it. And I just...threw it back in your face. I think I was just scared from finding out so much about myself, all out of nowhere. I'm sorry, Ash. I really am thankful. I can't ever repay you."

Tears are already stinging at your eyes as you quickly shake your head. When did you start crying so goddamn easily? "Quinn, you're my friend and friends don't have to repay each other. But even beyond that, you were so right to tell me off. I couldn't have known you wanted this. You weren't even aware that you wanted this. I just...thought I had the right to decide for you, and so I did. That's not being your friend, that's being in charge of you. I don't want to try to be in charge of you anymore, Quinn. I just want to keep being your friend, if you'll have me."

Quinn has taken hold of your hand at some point, giving you a comforting squeeze as you sniff back any further tears. "Let's just agree to move forward, okay? As friends. Always as friends."

That sounds the **** knell of any chance at holding back your tears, though now they flow past a bright smile. "Oh thank God. I want to take you shopping so bad; you're so gorgeous as a girl and I need to dress you up." Judging by the way Quinn's snug shirt starts to bubble up at the chest at your declaration, he's into the idea as well. "Hey Quinn, your girl is starting to leak out."

She glances down at her merrily ripening chest, then gives an airy shrug and quirks her newly full lips at you. "I don't care. I feel good. I feel great. Any other opinion on the matter is just noise." She snaps a band off of her wrist and reaches up to tie back her now shoulder-length hair. "Are you free right now? We could go right now. I really want to go right now."

Ugggh this fucking day. You **** yourself to regretfully shake your head, Quinn pouting in disappointment. "Sorry, I'm booked solid basically all day. I actually have to get going to my next thing as quickly as I can, just as soon as the girls finish the..." You trail off when you spot a cheery-looking brunette in owlish glasses swaying her way towards your table, her ungainly breasts straining at her green apron as she trots over with a large cup in hand. "There it is. Guess I'm off, then."

Quinn tilts his head, peering curiously at the drink you take reluctantly from the overblessed girl. "What's that?"

"It's a Peppermint Mocha. Extra Chocolate Curls. Wish me luck."