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Bent

Beneath a building not marked on any map or deed was a room. In this room was a mechanism. It was essentially a radial dial of infinite complexity. This mechanism was built around a black box, a box that should never have been opened. Those who had been given the secret key to the box stood around their creation.

Cascading nuances of fate and chance lay open for exploitation.

One among their number was bold enough to step forward and do what the others could, or were not willing, to do.

And the world shifted.

****

Jack Slater woke up to find he had turned into a girl.

Obviously this came as a rather rude shock. Not immediately aware of his predicament, the young scalie went about his morning routine as he would have any other morning.

He rolled out of bed in pajama bottoms, his sleepy brain catching up with his slack body. Jack was the type to go to sleep too late and wake up only grudgingly. So in the tradition of the sleep deprived, he operated on automatic until his mind booted up fully. Often the only thing that got him out of bed was that he kept his alarm clock on the far side of the room so he had to get up out of bed to turn it off.

Utterly oblivious still, Jack walked into the bathroom next to his bedroom to perform his morning routine. Snapping on the light made him squint his gummy eyes and blurred the reflection in his mirror. A little water from the sink cleared up his vision and he looked upon the face of a stranger. For just a moment he had the strangest sense of vertigo, as if he were falling from a great height.

The face and muzzle was a little slimmer, the eyelashes more refined, the scales finer, the ears longer, and the hair a little fairer and lengthened significantly. Black and acid green, the face staring back at him was such a close copy, Jack gawked dumbstruck. The differences were so subtle that at first he could not quite fathom what was wrong. First he reached out to touch the mirror, blinking, certain that some trick was being played on him. Then he looked at the hand connected to his arm. It was feminine, more slender. Then he pulled back and prodded at his cheek. The reflection followed him, and Jack suddenly did not find the joke so funny.

He felt the face and it felt wrong. His eyes kept sending him signals he could not process. Again an engulfing pit seemed to open up beneath him, the floor beneath his feet seemed to shift and yaw, forcing him to grab the sink for support. As quickly as it had come, the feeling vanished, leaving him to wonder if it had simply been his imagination.

Oh sweet holy Christ, those are tits. He thought in shock as he looked at the bared chest in the mirror. Upon what used to be male pectorals were now teenage mammaries. Breasts, fun-bags, milk melons, boobs, knockers, fun pillows, all the names of something that all men loved. Jack was more of an ass man himself, yet appreciated all things Play Boy and bouncy.

Cognitive dissonance ran amok in Jack's mind as his ego went to war. Reality could be defined as a very empirical thing if you attended the right lectures. Yet to have firsthand experience with just how incapable the uninitiated mind had with processing such a situation was more in the realm of clinical psychologists. Identity is something solid that the world revolved around for the individual. Not the other way around.

Nice tits, too. He casually observed. Round and perky D's if he was any judge. Jack looked down at himself and ogled at his new accessories. They dominated his view and he could not resist fondling them out of lurid fascination. He grazed a nipple and felt shivers run down his spine at a further discovery: Piercings. Little silver horizontal barbells gave the illusion of dewdrops.

At the simultaneous touch and sight, his loins twinged slightly and Jack was horrified to find himself wondering whether this girl's body he had found himself in had a pierced clit.

Damn, this chick is hot. I'm getting turned on just looking at her.

Disassociation and denial was a common coping method. He checked the girl's left ear and saw four silver hoops lined up in a row, just like he had. The next stage of his denial was to think he was only dreaming. His own consciousness warred over it, raking through the plausible to the impossible.

I must be dreaming. It's a pretty damn good dream, but still. Vivid, that's for sure. But I'm not into this kind of thing. Why would I dream of this? You can't be dreaming. You can't tell when you're dreaming, but you can always remember waking up. But what about those dreams where you're so convinced that it's real you would stake your life on it. Then you wake up and those ideas seem so fuckin' stupid. I know I'm awake. And slightly hungry. Maybe someone slipped me some acid, or something. Damn, if they did, I'd take another hit of shit that makes you trip this hard. That must be it. I'm tripping balls. I'm tripping so many balls I left mine somewhere. Not a happy thought.

Jack's brooding mental self-examination was interrupted by his mother calling from the upstairs landing.

"Jill, hun, you up? I'm off to work. Have a good day at school, sweetie."

"Okay, mom!" He responded automatically. Once again he was alarmed, this time by the pitch and timber of the voice he heard. A soprano if he guessed right. Which made for a horrible kind of irony seeing how Jack had been a bass even in middle school.

Morbidly, he could do nothing to stop his next errant thought.

Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water. Jack was gone to who knew where and only Jill came after.

Tensely, Jack, now Jill, waited for the sound of her mother to leave, tail lashing impatiently the whole while. Jill emerged from the bathroom only after the sound of the garage door closing had faded and even then double checked that she was clear before bolting back to her room.

Time was of the essence. She considered ditching school altogether, but disregarded it quickly, tempting though it was. Jill had to see what was wrong, see if anyone noticed the insane difference. Surely someone would notice Jack was gone and this strange new girl was in his place? There was also the promise of the known. We cling to the routine; cherish the mundane, when everything seems wrong.

Comforting and unnerving all at once were the similarities yet subtle differences. In many ways it would have been easier to accept if the signs were clear; hot pink wallpaper or maybe a floral print bed spread. Jill had to search. Rock band and video game posters were tacked to the walls, and her computer was the same in every way. On her shelves were fewer male action figures and more female ones. Subtle.

A brief stab of fear overtook all other concerns.

Everything else seemed the same or very similar, but how did Jack know that Jill had done what he had? Been through what he had? Incredibly agitated, she just about overturned her bed searching under it. Groping nearly blind, her hand latched onto its intended target. She pulled out the duffel bag, right where it should have been. Almost shaking, she unzipped it and pulled out one of the wrapped bundles and unrolled it on the floor. All her precious tools and sacred instruments were intact.

For the first time that morning, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was Jack and Jill's secret, the part that defined them. The lives they lived were simply cover for the truth. Assured that at least the most important things had stayed the same, Jill turned her hands back to the task of getting ready.

In her closet there was the most difference, if only because of the equipment difference between genders. There were mostly additions rather than substitutions however. All articles, she noted with approval, were amenable to the proper level of concealment her other life required. One thing she did realize was that Jill was tall. Just as tall, if not a little taller than Jack had been. At least it meant her tits and ass were proportional.

She did feel a certain naughtiness at rifling through what still felt like a stranger's underwear drawer. Picking a simple pair of black panties, she then slipped them up her legs. Bringing the soft cotton snugly against her crotch, a sinking feeling settled in her gut as she was confronted with her greatest loss. The fabric hugged her mound in a way that could not be ignored. That most precious and defining male attribute, separating Jack from Jill, now bereft. There really was not time to stop and mourn her lost manhood. There was a certain... airiness between her legs. Her tackle box was missing its most important tool. The young woman had never considered getting dressed in an erotic light...

No, no, no, no, no! Stop thinking about it! Shut up, shut up. The self-rebuttal was enforced with a sharp rap to the forehead.

Breathing heavily she addressed the next hurdle: The bra, enemy of all men undressing their female friends. Which proved to be a surprisingly easy bridge to cross. Jill was unsure if it was because she had deft hands, or that it was simply easier to get one on herself. In either case, her lovely lady lumps were, after slight adjusting, comfortably snugged into their holsters. With the foreign pieces out of the way, Jill was not feeling adventurous enough to try one of the skirts or low cut blouses hanging and stuck to what she knew. Arms warmers, rock t-shirt, and comfortable foot wrappings only took a moment. Although the shirt was a lady's fit and hugged her new curves, it was not uncomfortable enough to change.

Most importantly were the pants, or rather, what went under them. Given the recent developments, the familiar consideration given to covering for her lower half was the only thing keeping her from pulling out her hair and screaming at the insanity of it all. Ingrained deep into her subconscious where not even a gender change could touch were the movements performed near on a thousand times, done and done again. One pair of loose jeans and studded belt later, Jill was ready for school.

The young woman grabbed her bag, slung it over a shoulder and cast a mandatory hateful glare at the alarm clock for waking her up to this topsy-turvy world before heading out the door.

The sun, perhaps in sympathy was still waking up. Summer clung stubbornly onto the heels of autumn, so the dawn's haze was a little warm still. Jill walked down her street just like she had since school started. It did not occur until her feet had taken her to the bus stop that maybe the location had changed. Sure enough, the two freshmen who shared the stop were there just as they always were. They paid her no mind, just like they always did. Jill kept secretly hoping one of them would say something. Notice that there was an oddity, an aberrance in their bus mate.

Something! Anything!

But of course they were silent. Hope that maybe Jill and her mother had inhaled something hallucinogenic withered. Even in the few minutes before the arrival of the bus, Jill uncovered more and more evidence pointing to the conclusion that Jack had never existed. Every picture on her phone that once held Jack in the frame now had Jill.

Was she crazy? Was this all a dream? What would her friends say? If all she had were the memories, or what she thought were memories, how could she say that any of it was real?

Such considerations occupied Jill's attention up until the bus at last arrived. And again her feet carried her up and forward without much prodding. Jill plopped down into her usual seat and sank further in a melancholic brooding. Questions bubbled and churned through the sludge of her brain. Innumerable possible scenarios and answers were addressed and discarded.

Aliens and government conspiracies did not seem so far-fetched, yet were they even worth considering? Her rational and irrational crashed and quarreled the whole way. Internal lights flipped on and off as the bus followed its rout unfailingly, gathering occupants. Just as predictably, Jill did not have as much time as she would have liked to brace herself for the day ahead. Time had come again to delve into the hormone ruled arena of high school. Before long she stepped of the bus and joined the steadily thickening crush of upper and lower classmen.

Northview was actually a fair example of a school, having only been built a decade ago. It had certain amenities that students and teachers agreed were good to have that older schools did not. Like central heating and air conditioning. Past the front doors and up the third stair's landing, Jill's worst fears were realized. She joined her circle of friends and they all greeted her as Jill. There was Cody, Little John, Bethany, and Keith. Jill sat down. Little John greeted her first.

"Hey, Jill. You'll never guess how fucking stoned Keith got last night." The pudgy brown bear said.

Keith, ever the eminent junkie at the tender age of fourteen, scoffed. "Pff, I've hit better shit than that." The young fox mostly used his talents to get high.

"Dude," Little John responded incredulous. "You were so high you said you waved to St. Peter."

Keith giggled. "Okay, I might've been pretty high."

Jill laughed cynically. Keith was a paragon of disillusionment and hopeless, pointless, future.

Her little circle of casual failure was a fine slice of the student body that attended Northview. Everything seemed nice on the surface. Nothing could be guessed of the rot beneath the plastic surgery and botox. The thin veneer of civility that pervaded everything covered a bubbling cesspit filled with ripening alcoholism and corrupted innocence.

The teachers mostly just suspected or were too burnt out to care. The coaches knew more than most. A few of them even supplied a generous quantity of the steroids while the rest helped the athletes pass their drug screenings. Cody practically pissed anabolic juice. Yet even Jill would have admitted that he was one of the best running backs in the state. He had helped get the football team to the state championships twice.

Bethany meanwhile was a walking, talking booze hound who spent more time drunk than Keith did high. And that was saying something seeing how the fox was still a little blazed. She knew all the little tricks to obtaining and smuggling the good stuff around school. Jill always had a quiet inward laugh when the baseball team carried around their clear water bottles. Vodka was hard enough to get someone smashed and transparent so was perfect by virtue of only being detectable by smell. Bethany had turned more innocuous objects into flasks than any one student knew.

The bell rang, inimical to all whims and wishes. It was a sharp sound that dulled the senses. Countless eyes glazed over as the students marched to their classes in zombie-like processions.

Jill alternated between introspection and acute, outward observation. Every detail was worth considering. Nothing was above her paranoia. Words spewed pointlessly from the mouths of her teachers as Jill examined the classrooms and students, looking for other signs of change. As if to drive the point home even further, during her first class's roll call Mrs. Snider kept calling Jill's name until she answered.

While actually in class Jack had kept mostly to himself, and the same seemed to be true for Jill. If there were other changes they were too fine for Slator to parse. Initially, the day trickled away, minute by minute. Yet as Jill's search proved fruitless, and despair took hold, time slipped away.

Shortly after lunch with no sign of any supporting evidence, Jill had to acknowledge a possibility that grew and grew.

What if he... She... was crazy? What if Jack had never existed? Had she never even been a he? Was this the breaking point, where her psyche finally overcompensated for the traumas in her life? It made a horrible kind of sense. No other explanation addressed all the abnormalities or inconsistencies like insanity did. But to make up a whole other life... Had something happened to Jill that had not happened to Jack? Some horror that Jack did not know?

What if it had all been a split personality? Or perhaps It was not Jill that was the split, but Jack? What if she had finally become aware of some crazy glitch in her brain that had been ticking away. Jack and Jill went up the hill... And Jill's world came tumbling down. Jill was indeed tumbling, falling down a slippery slope into despair.

During Jill's second to last class, the abyss of despondency had nearly swallowed her whole when the back of her neck tingled. Jill turned to look back and met the stare of Victor Wright. In his eyes was recognition, knowledge. Jill's eyes narrowed and her view contracted sharply. Jack nor Jill were book smart, their poor grades could attest to that. What Jill lacked in academic, she made up in practical skill. So when she locked her gaze dead on with Victor, she read a tapestry of information within it. Quickly he turned away, clearly discomforted by being caught. Jill studied him for a moment more before turning back as well. Jill latched onto this clue without a moment's hesitation, as a drowning fur would to life-giving air.

On impulse she glanced back to her other side and caught a different guy staring straight at her chest. She felt goosebumps rush up her arms with the urge to cover herself.

It was another reminder of Jill's condition so she spent her time uncomfortable in her own skin. Before the wait became too excruciating the bell chimed its mechanical dirge. Jill had trouble restraining herself from shooting to her feet, instead waiting for Victor. Thankfully he seemed to want to speak to her too. She hung back a moment and he joined her.

"What do you know?" She demanded of the bespectacled Anubis as soon as they were out in the hall.

"Not much, but weren't you a guy yesterday?" Jill felt her heart skip a beat. Her breath caught sharply as blessed validation flooded her veins. She released the breath, letting go of all her tensions.

"I think we need to talk." Jill's tone brooked no uncertain terms that it was not optional.

Victor looked at the shifting tides of teens and shook his head. "Not here. After school meet me in computer lab A2, alright? I'll tell you everything I know if you will."

Jill considered pressing Victor for more details but liked the idea of privacy while she was loathe to part with the only potential avenue for answers, Victor's clear worry was enough for her to accept his terms and they separated.

Hardly paying any attention to where she was going, Jill nearly trampled another acquaintance. Sky was a very fetching white mouse who was in Jill's year yet shared none of her classes due to Sky being an honor's student. The two had only brushed elbows occasionally at large school functions that Jill did not cut. Standing at a foot taller than the model student, Slater did not notice the more compact Sky until she had run straight into her. In a quick reflexive move, Jill lunged with her right foot and scooped Sky back up into a standing position before she had a chance to fall.

The mouse wore a simple creme colored blouse and matching skirt that went nicely with her white coat and silver hair.

"Sorry about that." Jill said, inches from Sky's face. Then the mouse kissed the lizard full on the mouth. Slater's reflexes almost kicked in again but Jill managed to suppress them before she did something she might have regretted later. And, the young woman admitted to herself, for being a rather stiff individual, the little mouse sure did know how to kiss. Just as Jill began to enjoy herself, Sky broke away, blushed, squeaked, and ran off.

Confused, yet not entirely disappointed that kissing a girl gave her the same thrill as it always did, Jill wandered on her way.

****

If waiting for her sixth class to end was agonizing, then waiting for the final bell was nigh unbearable. Never before in her life had biology dragged on to the point of mental breakdown. By the end she gave up and simply watched the second hand of the clock. Every analog rotation had her worrying if Victor had been telling the truth and if he was going to be where he said he was.

After a small eternity that familiar dirge called out. Jill near about launched herself headlong out of her desk.

Victor found her pacing in the computer room. Each cubic set of classrooms had an attached computer lab free to use after school hours. The darkly dressed Anubis pulled out a chair and sat down.

"So, yesterday I was a man. You remember that." Jill asked and Victor nodded. "So why doesn't anyone else? How come you and I are the only ones who know I'm not... Not supposed to have these." She pulled at her top, glancing down and back up.

Victor paused, thinking. He was a thoughtful fur. Had spent pretty much the entirety of the day thinking. Victor and Jill were near apart as far as opposites go. Where she was rash and impulsive, he was slow and steady.

"My dad's missing, and it's like he never existed." Jill stopped pacing and considered the implications. At once terrifying and reassuring was the perspective that perhaps this was bigger than her.

"What else has changed, and why?"

"We need to try and figure out what caused this, but we need to figure out everything that's changed. Maybe the symptoms will lead to the identity of the sickness." He stated, not really looking at the distressed teen.

"That's all well and good, but what the fuck am I supposed to do in the meantime?" Jill demanded.

"I don't know!" Victor raised his voice, showing that he was cracking a little under the pressure as well. He pinched the bridge of his nose where his glasses sat. "We have to act normal, but keep our eyes open. Something happened and we need to figure out what."

There was an unexpected knock on the open door of the lab. It was Sky, oddly enough.

"Uh... Hey, what's up, Sky?"Jill grinned, trying to mask the discomfort she felt.

"I know. I know you weren't a girl yesterday, Jack." Jill might have been skeptical of Sky, especially after her strange behavior, but like Victor, she knew her real name. Sky took a few steps into the lab and leaned against a table. Unsure of what to feel, the gender-swapped girl felt nothing in particular.

"I didn't know about your dad, Victor, but I knew about Jack. It was so weird, like I had two minds, telling me different things. One said, hey look, there's Jill. The other said, what happened to Jack?"

A moment of long silence stretched. Victor broke it with a question aimed at Sky.

"Has anything else changed that you know of? To you or anyone you know?" Sky shook her head.

"There is a student council meeting in a few days. I'll get some feelers sent around to gauge the feelings of the student body.

Victor blew out a heavy breath.

"Alright, we'll meet again tomorrow. Same time, same place. Go home, compile everything, no matter how small it might seem."

Victor would prove quite right in his assumptions. The devil was in the details.

The three parted ways.

As she walked out to her bus, she felt a moment of strangely disembodied animosity at the weather. Why was it a clear and sunny day? Were the clouds not supposed to reflect the severity of the situation? Where were the grey gloomy clouds of impending doom? But no, it was bright and happy, and wonderful.

The idea that the situation was larger than her both comforted and terrified. On one end, malicious forces were not all aligned, as far as she knew, just at her. At least her fears of insanity were assuaged. Yet the larger the scope, the less her potential impact. Jill wanted things to go back to the way they used to be. It was more than just her gender, though that was important to be sure. The very structure of the world on which her sense of reality was based had been altered.

These conflicting feelings are what occupied her on the way home. Treading a familiar path back home from the bus stop brought no solace. Her mother would be at work nearly until nine or even eleven o'clock at night so Jill had her solitude.

Jill Slater was a very kinetic individual. Sitting still for too long made her like a spring wound under too much tension. Yet after tossing aside her bag and falling onto her bed, she found no desire to rise. Only when her large breasts made lying flat uncomfortable did she even bother to roll onto her side. Minutes clicked by on the digital clock atop her small television.

Focus for anything really, refused to rise. Jill found herself quickly in the vice of boredom. Yet nothing really seemed appealing.

Slowly, insidiously, inevitably, irrationally, a kernel of curiosity raised like a seedling sprout. It started off as just the echo of a feeling. The stirring of a husk.

Soon the fragment of an impulse became motion as nerve clusters fired. Jill was so engrossed in not thinking about anything that she was only aware that one of her hands had slipped between her legs. The gesture was just an instinctive comfort, much like the slightly fetal curl she had adopted. However, the sudden proximity she had to her new lady-bits was enough to plant the seed of exploration. Idle hands made for idle play after all.

First, Jill just lifted a leg a little and felt along the seam of her jeans. A growing blush crept up her cheeks in embarrassment. Tempting as it was to stop, if only for the sake of obstinate masculine pride, she did not. Jill had flipped a switch that once on was not easy to turn off. Her loins twinged a little and there was no turning back. It was just so different, so forbidden, that soon Jill was horny enough for three.

Eagerly Jill pushed with her fingers and sat nearly bolt upright as though a charge had just run through her. Maybe that was a little much to start out with, she thought. Jill looked down on reflex and realized that as a girl, she would not really be able to self-examine without a mirror, not to mention the D's blocking the view. Her shirt came off a moment later, followed quickly by her bra, introducing Jill to the immense feeling of relief that followed the blissful release of her tits from their stifling wire prisons.

There was a mirror mounted on the back of her bedroom door that she went to. For the first time, Jill appreciated how well-proportioned her female body was. In the prime of flowering early adulthood. Her stomach was washboard flat and ripped abdominal muscles traceable along her center line of belly scales. She turned so she could see her side and stretched her arms up, making all her muscles tense and stand out. Her eyes traced her silhouette from finger to tail.

Even feminine she had lost little of her male form's potency, from the carved biceps and triceps, to the curve of her green-tipped horns. The swell of her ample bosom stood out starkly and Jill could not deny they were nice. The piercings gave them a spectacularly erotic flare. Little silver barbells turned the green areola and nipples into extreme erogenous zones. Not to mention they went nicely with the silver hoops her ears. As a woman, aside from breasts of course, was that her waist was a little slimmer and her hips a little wider. Jack had been tall and was Jill so they both shared large thighs, calves, feet, and a longer tail.

Jill felt a little guilt over the oddly voyeuristic narcissism of it all. Any and all chromosome mismatching aside, Jack had worked hard to get in very good shape, and it would have been quite a blow to Jill's confidence if she had woken up stick-like without any muscle, or overweight and out of shape.

She did not mind the wider hips at all. It meant she had a decent ass to go with the tits so she was not completely top heavy like many girls she knew. Besides, the jeans hugged her hips deliciously. Jill let down her arms and fondled herself. It was almost like she was playing an interactive porn game. Her tits were quite a handful and the attention made her nipples quickly stiffen. The piercings heightened her sensitivity almost too much.

Very soon she was feeling quite a lot of heat collect down in her nethers. She was having fun though. The weight, the smooth, firm, yet oh so soft globes were an immense delight. See and feeling, stimulating, being stimulated, and watching herself receive and perform soon proved to e too much and Jill's hands left her breasts and undid her belt. Hooking her thumbs through both pants and panties, she shimmied them both off to be gloriously naked. In the mirror she could see her mound glistening slightly in the light.

By pushing her feet apart and leaning back she could see a little of her pussy. The delicate inner petals were an appealingly bright green. Yet she could only get a teasing glance.

"Damn that's a sexy bitch." She muttered. After just a little tit play she was soaked. She traced a pair of fingers along her outer lips, shuddering at the alien sensitivity and found her digits sticky. As aroused as she was though, standing and facing her wall mirror was getting tiresome for her legs and back. Besides, she wanted a better view.

Jill jogged briskly and naked over to her bathroom. After rummaging a bit she found a smaller hand mirror and ran back, her crotch tingling as her motion breezed cool air over her wetness. She sat down on her carpet and leaned back against the end of her bed. Then she tilted her pelvis once more and propped the mirror up against her TV stand. It took a little maneuvering, but soon she had a well-angled view of her pussy while being comfortable and fee to use both hands.

Almost instantly she felt the warm tingling crank up a notch. Nearly flinging her legs as wide as they could, she spread her outer labia with her limber stretching. The whole of her inner thighs was lightly coated in her juices. Again Jill touched her puffy lips and shivered. With both hands on either side, she spread herself well and truly. Gazing in raptured awe at her spread flower that was hers to pleasure as she saw fit, she had some difficulty deciding what to do first. After a little contemplation during which her juices only flowed more, she blushed more furiously than ever.

Most intriguing to her though was what it would feel like to have something inside her pussy. The idea alone was enough for her hole to ache a little in need. Switching to her left hand to spread her sex, she glided the middle finger of her right up her slit to gather lubricating moisture. The tip of her finger brushed her still hooded clitoris and it was as though a lightning rod had been pressed against her spine.

Too much! She thought frantically, trying to ride the wave of sensation out. Regaining herself, she positioned her finger outside her fuck-hole and took the plunge, crying out loudly as the slender digit slid and sank, penetrating her pussy. Almost uncontrollably she pressed and pushed, slipping her finger past the clenched opening to her furthest knuckle, and only stopped when she could go no further. Inner muscled clenched and gripped at the intruder, making Jill squeak in surprise.

She felt like a ten year old discovering masturbation for the first time.

With a lewd wet sound, Jill pulled her slick finger back and shoved it back in with a squelch.

"Ah!" The hot and horny teen shouted in delight. Almost as good as felling the finger fuck was getting to watch it. She started out with a slow rhythm, pumping her right little cunt gradually, building up to a more pneumatic approach. As she picked up speed her angle and force caused her finger to curl. On an inward push, her digit rammed into her deeply buried G-spot. Shoving herd, she could not unclench her arm muscles and stimulated the gland hard. Girly fluid leaked from her slit as she panted and screamed silently.

And yet she did not cum.

Sex hormones running rampant, Jill's only drive became to climax. Her pace quickened, fucking herself vigorously. But still she could not cross the threshold of orgasm.

Maybe if I used two fingers...

The young woman desperately reasoned. She plunged her ring finger along with her middle on the next thrust. If Jill was to be honest, it was almost too much for her pussy. The added girth felt good, but not as much as she thought it would. Riding her G-spot got her close, however only served to make her want her orgasm more. Once she got particularly close, only to be thwarted by a hand cramp. Trying to ride out the pain she clenched tightly around her pubic bone.

Whimpering in frustration as she tried so hard to cum, her palm brushed the top of her sex, causing another electric shock. Jill thus far had approached her delicate womanhood like a man, assuming that just shoving something inside and thrusting it in and out vigorously would result in orgasm.

Years of intense physical training had tuned her body into a well-oiled machine. Every tendon and muscle group had been worked and strengthened. The precise reach and limitation of limb and ligature was ingrained more deeply than her own name. So again it was strange for her not to know what pose or stroke would provoke the most sensation.

Finally, in desperation Jill pulled back her hooded clit and pressed her love button. That was it, that the magic spot. Having at last found the sacred key she clumsily rubbed and pushed her nub, at last pushing the young lizard closer to the edge. She also wanted to clench her legs shut, but the show was too much to pass up on.

Climbing over the final hurdle was still difficult. As Jill came nearer she nearly lost the climax twice as her fingers seemed to refuse to cooperate. Almost getting the perfect spot, and then slipping off as her juices made things difficult. Determined, she did not stop, letting the heat build, welcoming the burgeoning explosion that she welcomed openly.

Jill heard angels sing as she came, though that might have just been the sound of herself screaming. Good thing for her the house was empty.

It was a toe-clenching, spine-tingling, mind-numbing, full-body orgasm. And it was glorious. Jill practically gushed girl-cum all over her hands, thighs, and carpet. She rode out her climax for a few solid seconds. Slowly her nerves and muscles wound down and unclenched. She pulled her fingers out with a groan and a moist pop, a few delicate strands trailing from her fingertips.

Laying her head back onto the soft bed, she held her wet hand up to the light and watched the threads of moisture glisten, not thinking of anything at all.