The World Rewritten

Based on an idea in the forum by Schlank: "She writes stories about every fetish she can think of: public nudity, bondage, forced lesbianism, spanking, sex in front of large audiences, incest, strip searches, body-cavity searches, kinky medical exams, etc., involving succubi, shape-shifters and mythical nations were men and women can be kept as slaves and be led naked down public streets on leashes. After she's written dozens of stories in her book, and filled every page with stories that are just dripping in shameless eroticism, strange things start to happen to her."

*****

I was always the shy girl, gangly and introverted as a child, and much the same as an adult. I lacked any significant beauty, and lacked too the curves that made my friends so attractive to boys. My breasts were barely an A-cup, and seldom bared at all, and although my nipples could be wonderfully sensitive, my clit certainly wasn't.

A string of inadequate boyfriends had failed to satisfy me, and had taken my inability to climax as a personal criticism. I lacked the courage also to suggest more adventurous forms of sex; it takes time to develop the trust you need before you can ask a lover to tie you up, clamp your nipples and fuck your ass without mercy. For example. I had no idea whether I'd enjoy that.

At the age of twenty-four, I certainly wasn't a virgin, but my few experiences were vanilla, and I still hadn't had a proper orgasm.

My fantasy self, on the other hand, was wild. Bisexual. An exhibitionist. A nymphomaniac. A total cumslut and size queen. I shared my erotic fantasies with no one, but I wrote them in my journal. Sometimes just a phrase that I liked, or a paragraph sketching out an idea to explore later. Sometimes detailed stories going on for pages.

Some of it was almost romantic. Some of it outright horror, such as the one where a coven of vampires kept thousands of men tied up helpless and in a constant state of orgasmic bliss (perhaps not such a bad fate), their endlessly streaming cum flowing through long, clear, plastic tubes, to be deposited in glass bottles. (But that one was never more than a fragment of an idea. Once I'd got the image in my head of a vampire pouring milky cum over his cornflakes, I hadn't been able to take the eroticism of it seriously.)

And I even had a special journal for keeping all my secret fantasies. It was beautiful and perhaps ancient, perhaps even from the nineteenth century, leather-bound with tracings of silver, and with thick paper inside. I got it for a bargain in one of those witchcraft shops that sell crystals and candles and such stuff.

The smell of the leather and the texture of the paper made writing my fantasies a much more intimate experience than if I had just typed it at the computer at home. I spent hours every week at the cafe near my apartment, nursing my latte and cheesecake as I scribbled down scenarios that would have shocked anyone reading over my shoulder.

But that was just part of the fun.

So it was with no little regret that I found myself on the last page. I doubted I would find another such journal - at least, not at an affordable price.

"While I sipped champagne, affecting indifference," I wrote, "he parted my legs to give the driver a clear view up my skirt, and his immaculately manicured fingers teased their way ever closer to my impatient clit. 'I want you again,' he growled softly. 'One more time, before I let you escape...'"

I chose to leave it there, a suitable ending. I slipped it into my bag and stood to go, and collided with a young man who quite took my breath away.

Some people, when you first meet them, and fall for them, can seem so perfect they steal the focus of your world. Danny was like that. His blond-haired blue-eyed good looks could have made him a film star, and his easy confidence and Irish charm made his every word and move seductive.

He was out of my league. I knew that immediately. But then he smiled at me and I was lost. I knew right then that I would do anything, absolutely anything, just to keep him smiling at me. I don't remember what we said, or what we talked about, but as we parted, to go our different ways, he asked me to be his date that evening.

Of course I said yes.

But to a magic show? What was I supposed to wear to that?

"As little as possible," he said with a cheeky grin, making me blush. I really hadn't intended to ask it out loud.

He picked me up at seven, arriving in front of my apartment block in a limousine. He wore a cream-coloured suit, clearly bespoke, and I felt completely out of my depth in my store-bought blue summer dress, but we kissed and drank champagne and I yielded to the Cinderella fantasy of the moment.

His fingers caressed my thighs, and I wondered if he would part them to show my knickers to the driver. I wondered how I would react if he did. But this was real life, not fantasy. Improbable as our romance was, the chances of any of my erotic fantasies coming true was practically zero.

How wrong I was.

*

I was woken by Diane jumping on my bed and straddling me. "You fucking slut!" she shouted.

"What the fuck, Diane!" I shouted back, trying to shift her off me, without success.

She tapped her phone and showed me the screen. It was a video of a magic trick, clearly filmed by a member of the audience with a seat near the stage. You know that trick where the magician saws a woman in half?

The twist here was that the woman was an audience member. "I need a couple of volunteers," the magician had announced. "Preferably a couple. Preferably a young, attractive couple." Danny raised my hand for me, ignoring my shriek of protest, and then the whole theatre was waiting for me to come to the stage with him.

If being on the stage in front of such a large audience was terrifying, having the whole audience waiting impatiently for me to stand up was even more so. I yielded, and allowed him to lead me onto the stage. The magician had flashed a warm grin as he guided me to the box.

"What's your name, gorgeous?" he asked.

"Clara," I said, quiet as mouse.

"Clara! Welcome! Don't worry about a thing. Now, squeeze yourself through here."

It was not a big box, and it was quite a tight fit for my shoulders, but I managed to wriggle through until the box was around my waist.

It was at this point that the video started. There I was in the middle of the stage, with my head, arms and chest projecting from one side of the glittery red box, and my bum and legs projecting from the other. "That's you, isn't it!" Diane said.

I said nothing, but I could feel the heat in my cheeks. What I hadn't known at the time is that while I was threading myself through the box, my date was undressing in preparation. The audience's gasp I attributed to the huge square blade that the magician was wielding as he prepared to cut me in half.

Even in the video, the panic in my eyes was clear. "Trust me," the magician said soothingly, "you won't feel a thing."

Which wasn't exactly right. I felt a constriction, as if my waist had been gripped by a thick band, holding me firmly in place. The magician had then pulled the box forward, and turned me to face the audience - which was strange, because I didn't feel my legs move at all.

"How did you do that?" Diane asked. Quite clearly, the two halves of me were separate.

That was the moment that I had realised Danny was naked - and very erect. And standing behind what looked like my legs. I lifted my left foot to see what would happen, and I saw it move.

I shrugged. "Mirrors, I guess."

If I was astonished at this division of myself, I was baffled to see my date standing there naked. Why had he undressed? Had he been hypnotised? Was it legal to be erect in public? In front of children? The audience's agitation was loud in my ears, but as I searched the faces there, I could see no children. Clearly this was a much more adult magic show than I had realised.

Dropping onto his knees, Danny lifted my skirt up over the box, exposing my bare legs to full public view, and kissed my thighs and cheeks as he teased my knickers down about my ankles. I was so shocked by this sudden exposure that I froze. I didn't know how to react.

And his lips felt so good against my skin.

The whole performance was unreal. How could I have been cut in half? Was I really half-naked in front of a huge theatre audience? It was almost as if I were in one of my own stories, helpless and about to be ravished for the enjoyment of others.

Danny's mouth pressed against my pussy, his nose against my clit as his tongue swept lovingly between my labia. In the video, the astonishment in my eyes gave way to lust. "This has got nearly a million hits on Youtube," Diane said, laughing.

My cheeks were burning. My fantasy-come-true, that I hadn't quite believed at the time, had been watched by a million people? And now there were probably men wanking over it? Why did the idea of that make my clit throb with need?

You couldn't see clearly in the video how expertly Danny was working my clit. You could only see his face buried between the bare cheeks of my ass, while I made frantic and funny expressions with my face. This continued for two minutes and thirty-six seconds, according to the bar at the bottom of the screen.

Danny stood up, lined his cock up for entry, and inserted himself slowly. The 'Oh!' of surprise on my face was classic. There had been a smattering of laughter from the audience at that point, but I cared only about the fact that I was penetrated by a cock that was thicker and longer than any I had previously experienced.

Big cocks were something I often wrote about, but had never actually had the opportunity to evaluate. For it to be happening in such an odd way was, well, oddly frustrating. I'd wished I could stop everything and have a proper look, and take my time and enjoy it, somewhere safe and private.

Instead, I had thousands of faces staring straight at me as Danny thrust ever deeper, settling quickly into a steady rhythm. Trapped as I was by the box, I couldn't really move. I was being fucked. I wasn't fucking.

In the video it was almost comical. Danny was basically fucking a pair of legs attached to nothing, while the top half of me panted, my arms waving about uselessly.

I really can't say I didn't enjoy it. I've always believed that size doesn't matter, and that's it's how you use it that matters, but nothing, I was discovering, compares to a big cock used with true expertise.

"Let's make her come, Ladies and Gentlemen," the magician said. "Altogether now: Come! Come! Come!"

A section of the audience picked up the chant, and soon the rest joined in, thousands of voices calling out to me, "Come! Come! Come!" while Danny's cock pounded me with savage delight. In the video I could see saliva trailing from my mouth while my hands pinched at my nipples through my blouse.

"I wish I'd been there," Diane said. "I'd have freed your breasts and sucked your nipples for you."

And then Danny was coming inside me. We'd never had sex before, we'd never talked about protection. I'd only just met him that day! And yet he fucked me live on stage and came inside me. "Fuck!" I screamed as the sensation of his cum spurting deep inside me triggered the climax that the audience had been begging for, and indeed that I had been waiting for my whole life.

The audience was abruptly silent as they all watched me and listened to my cries of pleasure. My first ever orgasm, deliciously intense, prolonged by Danny's wonderfully thick cock pulsing brilliantly inside me.

Applause and cheering broke out as my orgasm tailed off. As Danny withdrew carefully, the magician swivelled me back into place, until I felt the clamp release and I was able to extract myself from the box. I stood next to Danny, half-naked and shell-shocked. Danny grinned fiercely as he waved to the audience, but then he turned to me and kissed me, and in that moment I was utterly content.

Diane laughed. "You can see the cum dripping from your pussy," she said, pointing at the screen. She looked around the room, spied my knickers on the floor by the bed, and snatched them up. "They're soaked with cum!"

"Don't!" I cried as she put them to her nose and sniffed.

She collapsed onto the bed next to me, laughing hysterically. "I can't believe I'm sharing an apartment with a world-famous porn star."

"I'm not," I whispered lamely.

"You are now."

*

"Why did you do that?" I demanded in a whisper as we made our way back to our seats, uncomfortably aware that his cum was soaking through my knickers and making my thighs slippery. And everyone was still looking at me. I would have run - to the bathroom, or just away - except that that would have been even more humiliating.

"Why didn't you tell me not to?" he'd replied, and I couldn't think of a good answer.

In the back of his limousine, on the way home, Danny told me he was falling in love with me, even though we'd only known each other a few hours. It wasn't like he was trying to get in my pants - he'd already been there. He seemed completely sincere, despite me feeling right then like a cheap hooker, a pair of legs with a pussy that anyone could fuck.

My beautiful, billionaire boyfriend parted my legs, tugged my knickers to one side, and slipped a finger into me. "I want you again," he murmured, "one more time, before I let you escape back to your life." He kissed me deeply while caressing my clit, and I melted in his embrace.

His cock was hard and slipping into me again, before I even knew he had freed it from his trousers. "God you're big," I whispered as he thrust in easily.

"I loved fucking you on stage," he said. "I love a girl who loves an audience."

It wasn't until he was driving me once more to orgasm that I noticed that the limousine driver was watching the whole thing.

*

How odd it was that two of my recent fantasies should have come true in the space of one day, without me ever setting out to make them real.

I picked up my journal and leafed through it. Turning to the last page, I read: "'I want you again,' he growled softly. 'One more time, before I let you escape...'" It sent a shiver down my spine. Danny had used those exact words.

He had seemed like a dream come true - maybe he was exactly that. A dream. A fantasy. Was Danny even real?

I phoned him. "Morning, sweetheart," he said. "Hey, how would you like to do that trick again? Seems everyone at the club here has seen that video of last night. For some reason, the idea of fucking a pair of legs, unattached to a real woman, has got them all excited."

I was speechless for a few seconds. "Are you suggesting I let your friends fuck me as if I'm nothing more than a pussy?"

"Well, my first thought was just to buy them a doll and let them do what they wanted with it. Bunch of pervs, if you ask me. But, you know, if you're up for it, I'd love to watch."

"I'll think about it," I said, and hung up.

I flicked back a few of pages in my journal and read: "He ordered me to bend over, my breasts squashed against the cold, polished mahogany of the conference table, while his partners lined up, ready to use me. I meant nothing to them as a person. I was just pussy to be used while my master watched from the side. I wanted him to watch. I wanted him to see how completely I belonged to him, even if that meant I was given completely to others."

If my fantasies really were coming true, I dreaded to think what would happen next.

*

I didn't have to wait long to find out. Diane's scream from the bathroom brought me running, but I found her wrapped in a towel and blushing furiously. "Sorry," she said quickly. "It's nothing. I thought I saw a spider."

She didn't look like someone who had just seen a spider. She looked like someone who was desperately trying to hide something - and I had more than a sneaking suspicion. "What is it?" I insisted. "You can trust me."

Inevitably there was a moment when it was no longer possible to pretend that all the sudden strangeness in my life was just a series of coincidences. And this was it.

Diane allowed her towel to fall to the floor.

The first thing I saw was how much her breasts had grown, her usual B cups now at least DD, and with huge nipples that jutted out proudly. Something else jutted out proudly, and that too was huge. Indeed, Diane's cock was at least the equal of Danny's.

"My parents always said this might happen one day," she said. "Apparently it runs in the family."

Maybe, I thought to myself, but it's also written in my journal. A fantasy of sharing an apartment with a futa, and of having to serve her in every conceivable way. It was not something I had ever wanted to actually happen, any more than I had wanted to be fucked in front of a huge audience by my billionaire boyfriend. Had I done this to Diane with my words?

And was there any way to undo it? Could I erase the words from the book?

"Wait there," I told her, and ran to my room, frantically searching for the futanari fantasy. I found it in the middle, written in black ink. Not a hope of erasing it. And the page resisted my efforts to tear it out.

Somehow, I wasn't surprised. Either I was completely insane, or powerful magic was at work. In neither case was the solution likely to be as simple as tearing a page out of a book. "Fuck," I muttered.

Diane was standing in the door of my room, stroking her new cock idly while she observed me with amusement and undeniable lust. There was something fiercely beautiful about her, and although I really wasn't into women, the thought of submitting to that cock was stirring quite a heat in my loins.

"I know you want it," she said.

I opened my mouth to object, and then closed it again. It was my fault she was a futa now. It would be cruel to deny her completely. "Let me undress first." If I knew anything about futa sex, this was going to get messy.

Fortunately, I was still in pyjamas, and quickly undressed. Diane threw me onto the bed and pounced after, positioning herself between my parted legs and guiding her cock to my pussy. "I've wanted to do this for years," she said. "I just never had the equipment for it."

In this position, her newly enlarged breasts looked enormous. I couldn't resist the temptation to put my hands on them, to feel if they were real. The certainly felt real. I squeezed her nipples gently, as she thrust into me.

She was definitely thicker than Danny, and longer too. Indeed, it was so thick that it had to be worked in inch by inch, and every inch astonished me. It's one thing to write about being stretched by futa-cock, but quite something else to experience it. It excited me in a way that sex never usually did for me.

I had discovered the key to pleasure: Big cocks. The bigger the better.

Diane pulled out slowly, and thrust in again hard, penetrating even deeper. "Fuck!" I hissed, though whether in praise or complaint I wasn't sure. I also wasn't sure whether any other cock could ever satisfy me again. "Fuck me," I begged. "Hard!"

And of course she did. It took her her few more thrusts before the combination of her precum and my own increasing excitement made it easier, but she was soon pounding deep and hard, her cock somehow pushing deeper into me than my cervix - not through, but past. That so huge a cock could bury itself in me entirely was thrilling.

Diane was tireless, her expression one of pure joy. "I love this," she said. "I'm going to come soon." She didn't slow down, but just maintained her rhythm, until I felt her stiffen.

It was like a cannon blasting within me, a torrent of cum firing into my depths. I cried out as I surrendered to my own climax, and we convulsed together in an ecstasy than continued on and on.

Diane withdrew slowly, and as the head of her cock slipped out, it was followed by a gush of cum. She flipped me over onto my hands and knees, and thrust in again. She was as hard and vigorous as before, and I realised this was just the beginning.