This is my first story for the site, and I hope you enjoy it in the spirit it was intended to be enjoyed. Unless you’re under 18, in which case you should stop reading now. All characters are implicitly (and now explicitly) over 18. I own the story; if you want to re-post it, please ask.
Albert was a nerd to his core – not even a nerd, but a geek. An out and out dork. Painfully, shamefully, embarrassingly so. He had lobbied publicly to begin a Dungeons and Dragons club at his high school, sat in the front row of all his classes, raised his hand for every question, and could go on forever about his point. Worse still, he looked the part of the socially hopeless dork. He was overweight, had thick glasses, greasy hair to match his greasy complexion, and was in the habit of dressing in garish, mismatching colors as if it didn’t occur to him to consider coordinating his top and bottom halves.
The boy passed his time in the way dorks do – acing his classes, reading thick reference books for enjoyment, playing tabletop RPGs with his dorky friends, and day-dreaming about all the girls who would never, ever talk to him.
Today, Albert was excited about his latest book – more so than he was about most books he picked up. It was a book of witchcraft. He had originally only grabbed it for use in adding flavor to his next D&D game, but the specificity of it had intrigued him, and he had found himself unable to resist the urge to try some of it out. Not that he’d expected anything to happen, of course, but even if nothing happened, no harm done.
Yet he found that once he got the hang of the arcane language, each experiment produced the promised results – mostly small things, like organizing his bedroom, changing the color of his t-shirt, or telekinetically moving an object across the room (and the spell took far more time and effort than simply getting up and fetching it himself). As his comfort level with the material grew, he began to ponder practical applications for his newly acquired knowledge. And like any teenager, Albert’s thoughts naturally turned towards sex, and before long he was frantically leafing through the spells to bend a girl to his will.
It was a disappointing search. Several spells came close. One could modify the mind of a subject, but the subject had to voluntarily agree to it – useful to help someone quit smoking, but no girl was going to volunteer for what he had in mind.
Another spell could suck the subject into a dream state that Albert could control, but they would remember it upon waking, and much as it might stroke his ego to make girls dream of doing things to him, no way would they do it in the open in their waking state. Spells to paralyze, spells to make physical changes... but nothing to make a girl his willing sexual partner.
He was very disheartened for a while, but, as dork’s will do, he devoted himself to the problem until he finally hit upon an idea that might work. It would take some planning, some luck, and could backfire horribly. But it had a chance – and a chance at having a hottie at his beck and call was not something he could pass up.
He would test it tomorrow. And he knew just the subject to test.
Melissa Warren strode into the school building confident as ever. She had checked her appearance meticulously, and exuded precisely the professional demeanor a professional like herself ought to. Her hair was packed tightly into a neat bun; her dress ran down to mid-calf; her blouse was buttoned to the neck and concealed beneath a billowy sweater; a small, tasteful stud in each ear. She could never forget the lessons she learned on her path to this job – that for an attractive young woman, if you let people see you as such, they would never see you as anything else.
After all, appearances were important in her job. Melissa played a vital role in the improvement of young minds. She was a media specialist (not merely a librarian), and she saw it as her job to provide access to and promote engagement with only the highest quality information resources. Though the sign next to her office door read “librarian,” she had put in the request to have it changed to her proper title post haste. Moreover, having graduated from this school only five years earlier, many of the teachers still remembered her as the valedictorian, editor in chief of the school newspaper, class president, yearbook supervisor, and captain of a half dozen academic teams – in short, a kid desperate for their approval. But that was all in the past, and now she insisted on having even the other staff calling her “Ms. Warren” rather than the familiar “Melissa,” just so they remembered the serious professional she had become.
The day began as it always did. She scanned the night drops and assessed over-due fines. Matt Fischer had returned a book three months late with a note in the front cover reading, “sry – ima get next 1 in on time.” Melissa repressed a shudder at the hideous vulgarity of modern text speak. She then perused some of her professional magazines for up-and-coming texts she may wish to consider stocking the shelves with, then idled through a few databases for periodicals that might be worth investing her office’s meager funds in.
Most of the day was spent in preparing her budget proposal for the coming year. With the school’s funding cut short, she knew that people viewed her area as especially marginal, and so she was doing every bit of research she could to give them reasons to keep her afloat. John – Principal Vickers, to the students – had been a jock all the way through his own high school and college careers, and always favored funding athletics over academics. That she even had to worry that the football team could be prioritized over the school library was indicative of just how much was so very wrong with the world.
She had to present her proposal to John the following afternoon, and she was still looking for every tidbit she could find to bolster her position. It was the focal point of her existence, and every intrusion into her library elicited a sigh of annoyance. Teachers straggled in and out to use the work room – Melissa irritably ignored the usual half-veiled sexual innuendo of Carl Jenks, the wrestling coach and nominal health teacher – and classes came by to use the computer lab or work on projects.
Then Albert came in. He was her student aid during the last period of the day – he put books away, distributed over-due notices, and did other minor chores. Most of the time, he just rambled on and on non-stop to her about the most boring subject he could find. Despite being a fellow intellectual, she couldn’t quite make herself like the boy. Perhaps it was because he was friends with her younger brother, who had graduated last year, and she still had memories of him leering at her in years past when he came over to hang out. Or perhaps Albert was just so much of a dork that he was completely intolerable.
“Afternoon, Melissa,” Albert said, stopping across the counter from her.
“Ms. Warren,” Melissa corrected. He still occasionally fell into the habit of calling her by her first name, having done so for years before she was hired on here a few months ago.
“Sorry, Ms. Warren,” the boy grinned, obviously not taking the title seriously. “Hey, you would not believe what I learned in AP physics this morning. There was this guy, Paul Dirac, who did an experiment on–”
“Sorry, not today, Albert. I have to finish my budget proposal – I’m presenting it to the board tomorrow afternoon, and it still needs a lot of work.” Melissa was glad to have an excuse not to have to speak to the boy.
“Oh, sorry – I’ll let you work then.”
Melissa didn’t respond, and immediately turned back to her work. She worked intently through the rest of the hour – so intently she didn’t notice Albert’s chanting behind her.
Melissa rose from bed the following morning, strangely not from her alarm. She looked at her clock, and saw she had overslept – it was already 9:00, and she was due in to the library at 7:45. What had happened? She was never late! She was furious with herself, and hastily rushed to dress herself.
That was when she realized something was wrong.
First, she finally realized she had slept in the nude – something else she never did. She couldn’t even find the pajamas she’d worn to bed, or the outfit she’d worn the previous day. Which was problematic, because her wardrobe had done an about face.
Gone were the conservative, dignified clothes which dominated her day-to-day dress. Instead, she was astounded to find her closet filled with parodies of her outfits. There were skirts that barely touched her thighs, most of which looked to be spandex. Blouses with top buttons so low they would never hide a bra (convenient, since she could no longer find any bras). Her underwear drawer was filled with skimpy Brazilian cut panties, thongs, crotchless panties, and all manner of sexy lacey frilly silly things. Her wardrobe had been replaced overnight by the clothing of a call girl who apparently enjoyed variety.
She was simply at a loss, and couldn’t begin to guess how such a thing had happened. Still, with her presentation this afternoon she definitely could not afford to take the day off to investigate, so even as late as she was, she had no time to do anything about it. She didn’t even have time for a shower. Melissa just donned the least revealing top she could find – a blouse which was two sizes too small and clung to her like a second skin, but at least concealed most of her cleavage – and slid into a black miniskirt. Even her glasses had changed – no longer the sophisticated frames she usually wore, but instead a set of ludicrous wide frames that looked like something from a 1950’s era librarian stereotype – or a porno imitating one.
Her shoes had shifted as well, and so rather than running into the building, she delicately minced in on five-inch high heels. (They were the shortest she could find.) If she had woken up on time, she might have been able to call a friend and ask to borrow something and make up some reason for it, but this late already, and with her presentation this afternoon, she couldn’t afford to be a minute later than she already was. She rushed into the building with her head pointed down. Mary Ann, the secretary, frowned in disapproval at her as she walked by the reception window.
“Late again, eh?” the dowdy woman behind the counter chastised.
“Again? This is the first time I’ve ever been late!” Melissa said defensively.
“Sure. You must suck a mean cock, or I can’t imagine why people put up with your behavior.”
Melissa’s eyes bulged, but then the phone rang and Mary Ann turned her attention towards it. The librarian stood a moment aghast, but the receptionist showed no signs of returning her attention to her, so she composed herself and continued down to the library. Melissa tried to concentrate on not having her breasts wobble so much as she teetered around on her heels.
Melissa secluded herself behind the desk and did her best to avoid stares from the students who were filtering in and out looking for books or just to use one of the library’s computers. Shockingly, her efforts at evading notice seemed to be working – while several students ogled her (or for several of the young women, looked at her with some amount of contempt), none had the shocked expression she expected. If anything, they seemed to accept her whorish appearance as a matter of course.
That was the good news. The bad news was the raging migraine that was building. She didn’t remember waking up with one, but perhaps it was the stress of being late. Still, every time she tried to concentrate on her presentation, it came back with a vengeance. She popped a couple pills to help relieve the pain and gave herself a couple hours for them to take effect, during which she flipped through pages in an illustrated book about some war or another – the pictures, for some reason, suggested little to her of time or place. The Civil War? Vietnam? Something like those, she felt sure. Trying to read the words just made her headaches come back stronger than ever, so she just zoned out enjoying pictures and wishing she’d chosen a book with prettier ones. She was almost done with her budget proposal presentation, anyway – she could finish up after lunch when the headache cleared.
She had her eyes closed, trying to think through the pain, trying to ignore the tension that all the bizarre occurrences had wrought in her, when she felt a pair of strong hands on her shoulders.
They rubbed firmly, and she unthinkingly melted into the tender gesture. She hadn’t realize how tense she had been, and between over-sleeping, the problem with her clothes, the incident with Mary Ann, and this horrible headache, she didn’t even care who the hands belonged to. It felt marvelous. They kneaded her shoulders, moving then to her lower back as she slumped forward in her chair. Melissa could feel her blouse sliding up her lower back, and knew that her thong was showing above the back of her tiny skirt.
Still, with the delicious sensation of those hands assailing her, she purred in contentedness, a warm flush coming over. Melissa barely even noticed as as the hands slowly drifted around to the front of her, massaging everything along the way. She was sitting there, squirming happily, when she began to wonder who was so brazenly fondling her tits. (“Tits?” They’re breasts. Where did that other word come from?)
She opened her eyes and looked down to see a pair of hands reaching over her shoulders and calmly, casually undoing the buttons of her blouse. She watched in a stupor, making no move to stop them. “Wh-what are you doing?”
“Shhh... just relax, gorgeous. You’re doing fine,” a man’s voice said from behind her. The headache, perhaps in response to the light, suddenly returned, and Melissa closed her eyes. It helped a lot.
Moments later, her blouse was completely undone, and her tits were bared for anyone who walked in to see. Somehow, rather than panic her, the thought was strangely exciting. Besides, then she could feel the man’s mouth on her neck, kissing her, nibbling her tender flesh, kneading her breasts with manly firmness. His breath was pleasingly warm on her, whereas the rest of her torso was now exposed to the chill air of the barnlike library.
She moaned softly, and her breathing came in soft pants. “God, I love your tits, Ms. Warren,” the voice said. “You mind if I...?”
Melissa shook her head. She didn’t know what he wanted to do, but everything he had done so far felt fantastic and she knew she didn’t want him to stop. He released her, and she whimpered at the break in contact. “But, my boobs!” she whined.
“Fill in for me a sec, babe. I’ll be right there.” Melissa pouted, but decided that having her own hands on her tits would be better than having no one’s hands on her tits at all, and began fondling herself. She wondered how hot she looked, if the man was enjoying watching the topless librarian – media specialist, she corrected herself – feel herself up in front of him.
She heard a zipper being undone, and she impatiently waited for him to be done doing whatever he was doing. She opened her eyes to find the man standing right in front of her, and her vision was completely obscured by his dick. It looked nummy! (Wait, nummy? Since when does Melissa Warren find anything, much less some stranger’s cock, “nummy”?)
Her musing was short-lived, as the cock playfully tapped her playfully on the nose a few times. The man laughed at the gesture, but all the smacking did was bring back her headache, so she closed her eyes again. That was better.
Suddenly, her nipples were being pinched, and she squealed in delight. The man chuckled at her reaction, but Melissa didn’t care if he laughed at her as long as he kept teasing her nipples. Her titties had never been this sensitive, but today she was sure if he kept rubbing and toying at them, she would cum from breast-play alone.
The man pinched again, then asked, “now why don’t sit on up and give me one of your world-famous titty-fucks, Ms. Warren? Doesn’t that sound nice?”
Melissa thought. She hadn’t ever let anyone do that, so she didn’t see how she could be famous for it. Still, all that friction on her boobies did sound delightful. She smiled and nodded. The man laughed again, and patted her head. “Good girl.”
She wasn’t thrilled about the condescending attitude, but as she straightened up, that thick warm cock slid in between her tits and she stopped caring about anything but getting her tits fucked. They had never seemed so sensitive before! Suddenly though they were alive with sensation, every caress and pinch and stroke of the stranger’s cock sending soft convulsions of pleasure through her. She grabbed each of her hefty melons, never having been so happy to have big, fuckable tits before in her life.
The man pinched her nipples again, and she moaned in response. It felt good, and she hoped if she moaned enough that he would see how happy she was and let her continue. “Hmmm, too dry babe – why don’t you get it nice and wet?”
Melissa frowned, and wondered what exactly he wanted. “Umm... do you mean, you wanna fuck me?” Melissa reasoned her pussy was very, very wet right now, horny as she was.
More laughter. Unmistakingly mocking, unapologetically patronizing laughter. “No, sweetie, just suck it a little. That’ll be enough.”
Melissa had learned by now that opening her eyes brought the headache back, so she just opened her mouth good and wide and tried to blindly get that dick in there. She sorta forgot she could use her hands – fondling her boobs felt too good to think about taking them off. She wondered how ridiculous she must look, sitting at her desk, tits in hand, blindly lunging about for a dick to suck.
But then she found it, and carefully wrapped her lips around it and started sucking it. This was actually kind of fun, she thought. Why did I never do this before? I can feel it twitching and pulsing when I suck it good! How fun!
She bobbed her head up and down delightedly, forgetting her reason for sucking him until he tapped her forehead. “Hey Ms. Warren, you’re a fantastic cock-sucker,” she squealed and giggled through her stuffed mouth to show how grateful she was for the compliment, “but... your tits?”
She pulled back, wanting to kick herself. “Oh right! My tits! I’m so sorry!” She pulled her tits apart to invite him back in. Melissa felt his wet cock slip back in – wet from her mouth! – and she purred. This time it was much better. Her spit had made his cock nice and slick, and so as she pumped her sensitive boobies up and down against it, it glided with marvelous ease.
“Yeah, that’s it, you big-titted slut,” the man grunted, obviously nearing climax from his tone. “That’s it, wrap your fuck-bags around my cock, fuck it faster!”
Melissa giggled at how silly he sounded, but heeded his advice anyway. The sensation of her tits jiggling up and down furiously against his cock was almost too much for her, too, and she knew her own orgasm would be along soon.
And soon came quickly. Suddenly the cock pulled away from her – naturally, she leaned forward to keep it between her jugs as long as she could – and then, as she sat there pawing at her titties with her eyes closed, her mind too overwhelmed by this assault ofp leasure to register what was about to happen, it was spraying. The first blast caught her right between the eyes, and then jet after jet of warm cum spurted all over her exposed tits. She screeched in pleasure as an orgasm rocked her, and her skimpy panties flooded with her own juices.
As she came down from her high, she was aware of the sounds of pants being zipped up as the man got dressed. Melissa couldn’t believe it. She’d just orgasmed from having a man titty-fuck her, and then use her face and chest like a sperm cup at a donor clinic. She’d never let a man titty-fuck her before – she’d never even used the word “titty” before – or “fuck,” for that matter. Hell, she didn’t even know who’d just done it.
She opened her eyes, and was pleased that the headache didn’t force her to close them again immediately. Perhaps the orgasm cleared my head? She turned her head to see Matt Fischer smugly grinning at her, the lazy idiot who had been so late with his book the day before.
Wait, that had been a student?!
“What do you think you’re doing?!”
Matt shrugged. “You looked tense, and I knew I owed you and all, for the book.”
Melissa’s eyes attempted to bulge out of her head. “And you thought you’d make the matter better by molesting me?!”
“Come on, you usually let me pay you in trade. Geez, you sure can be an uppity cunt.” Matt rolled his eyes, looking annoyed.
“I can be a...!” She sputtered. The headache was coming back, but she was too angry to care. The student began walking out of the library casually, and she raced after. Well, rapidly trotted after, given her ridiculous heels, catching up to him right outside the library doors. It was between class periods, so the halls were packed. Good, she thought. Now all his friends can see me discipline this punk back down to kindergarten.
“Matthew Fischer! You stop right there. That kind of behavior is unacceptable. How dare you do that to a staff member! And then to say such a thing!”
A wolf whistle caught her attention. “Nice tits!” someone yelled.
“Need someone to cheer you up, baby?” another called out.
Melissa looked around to find a large gathering of students around her. The girls stared at her with undisguised loathing and disgust, and the young men with raw lust. Several had cell phones out and were snapping pictures and video. It was then she realized she was standing there with her blouse undone and no bra, Matt’s jizz still running down her face and painting her exposed tits. She went pale as a sheet, and raced back into the library to echoes of student laughter intermingled with congratulations issued to Matt.
She was going to be fired. Her career was over. She flopped back into her chair and looked for some tissues to clean herself with. She couldn’t find any, so she just began wiping it off with her finger. She was about to wipe it off on the carpet or something when she thought, I don’t want to sit here next to it all day, so maybe...
Without considering it further, the haughty librarian slurped her cummy finger clean.
It was delicious! Twice as nummy as when she’d been sucking Matt’s dick a few minutes ago. No, three times! Nummy ummy yummy, she decided, and she continued scooping blob after blob of jizz off of her tits until she could finally button up her blouse again.
What to do now? Should she go try to explain herself to Principal Vickers? What would she say – that she had been sitting there with her eyes closed and accidentally let a student fuck her tits? Would it even be any better if she said she thought it was a staff member? And look at her clothes! The way she was dressed, it was no wonder Matt had thought she wanted that – she looked like a body spray commercial waiting to happen.
While she sat there, dreading her coming termination, the decision was made for her as Principal Vickers walked into the library, frowning.
“John!”
“We’ve been over this, Melissa. Mr. Vickers.”
Wait, wasn’t it the other way around, John and Ms. Warren? But this was no time to worry about titties. Err, titles. “Mr. Vickers, sorry. Umm, I guess you heard, about... well, yes. I can explain. You see–”
“Save your explanation, Melissa,” he interjected. He sounded annoyed. “We’re all used to your indiscretions, but... frankly, I’m a bit concerned that you’re now letting it carry out into the hallway. It’s one thing to treat the library as your own personal brothel... well, I suppose brothels charge admission. Regardless, it’s quite another for you to be roaming the hallways topless.
“We have an obligation to provide these students a quality education, and we tolerate a lot from you because you’re a hot piece of ass and you’ve let us use you to help us cut some costs and boost retention. But if you are going to disrupt our mission, Melissa...”
“Wait, what do you mean! Cut costs? Boost retention! I’ve never done anything like this before!”
“Save the innocent act for visitors, Melissa. You think I’ve forgotten about how you went down on the whole school board last year to guarantee our raises? Or the gang-bang you promised the football team if they won conference? They didn’t even win, and you delivered anyway – we’ve never had student athletes so dedicated. Or how about when you offered yourself as a sex slave to Dr. Snyder for spring break to convince him to stay on at reduced salary? Do I need to go on?”
Melissa shook her head – in denial of his accusations, though he interpreted as her expressing a wish for him to end his litany.
“Now, you do what you need to do in here, but you keep yourself clothed in my hallways. Am I understood?”
Melissa nodded. She was too grateful to have been allowed to keep her job to be as yet willing to protest the outrageous charges.
“Very well. And Melissa?”
She sat up straighter, chest thrust out. Men liked that. Maybe it would cheer him up. “Yes, Principal Vickers?”
“You still have some semen on your face.” She frowned, and quickly scooped up the jizz from her face and shoveled it into her mouth by some strange new instinct, sucking every drop off of her finger at length. Belatedly, she realized she was seductively slurping cum off of her finger in front of the principal, and removed the digit and folder her hands into her barely-covered lap. Lady-like.
Principal Vickers shook his head in disgust. “God, you’re a fucking slut,” he said. “If you were half the librarian that you are a whore...” He sighed, and walked out of the library.
“But... but... media specialist...” she whimpered to the empty room as the door swung shut.