Stacy Sakura, Pornstar

The blinding light faded, Zyon’s rhythm stuttered as he blinked down at the woman bent over in front of him, or rather, the phenomenon now gripping the sheets. Stacy’s already generous curves had expanded, her ass swelling into perfect, jiggling hemispheres that threatened to eclipse the sun itself. Her tits, now barely contained by what little remained of her torn nightgown, bounced with each of his shallow thrusts, each one easily a double-D, maybe bigger.

"What the helly?" Zyon grunted, his brain short-circuiting between confusion and the mind-numbing pleasure coiling in his gut. Had she really just changed before his eyes? The gun slipped from his fingers, clattering to the floor as his hips snapped forward on instinct. "I’m ‘bouta bust!"

Stacy- no, Stacy Sakura, her mind now supplied with a flood of new memories, merely giggled, the sound airy and practiced. Without missing a beat, she arched her back further, spreading her cheeks with both hands. "Cum in my ass, baby," she purred, winking over her shoulder. "It’s what I’m famous for."

Zyon didn’t need to be told twice as he switched holes and unloaded in the newly minted pornstar.

Later, tangled in sweat-slick sheets, Zyon idly twirled the gun between his fingers. Stacy- Stacy Sakura, adult film legend, three-time AVN Award winner, his insatiable fucktoy of a wife lay sprawled across his chest, tracing circles on his abs.

"So," he started, turning the gun over in his hands. "You really don’t remember this thing?"

Stacy blinked up at him, her doe eyes glazed with post-coital bliss. "Hmm? Remember what?"

Zyon frowned. The gun hummed faintly, almost smugly, in his grip.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand. Team group chat: Practice in 30.

"Shit." He rolled out of bed, swiping the gun off the sheets and stuffing it into his hoodie pocket. Stacy whined at the loss of contact, her pouty lips forming a perfect O.

"You leavin’ already?" she mumbled, stretching like a cat. The movement made her tits sway hypnotically.

"Gotta get to practice," Zyon said, chucking on sweatpants and a hoodie. But his mind wasn’t on basketball.

The gun weighed heavy in his pocket.

He didn't know exactly how it worked or what it was but he thought he'd get a chance to test it out soon enough.