’ I hit the button to retrieve the message and a voice I had heard before came on. It was Fuchs. ‘Hey, Sweetwalker, the copier on twelve just died... Let’s go pencilhead!’ Wonderful. * * * I finally managed to unjam the copier that Fuchs fucked up and headed home around eight o’clock. By then my clothes had dried and were as stiff as cardboard. All I wanted to do was get a shower and get something to eat, preferably something other than fish parmesan. I walked up to the front door, unlocked it. That section was aboutsix to eight hours long, from unconsciousness to completion ofmetamorphosis. It was more grisly, graphic, and disturbing than a HammerHorror film, but the video documentation was vital. Not just in provingmy experiment worked, but in proving my own identity in the long run.The next morning I awoke late, at first thinking I had dreamed all ofyesterday and last night. Then I blearily sat up and rubbed my chin,feeling nothing but baby soft smoothness and I felt two larger. She was gagging for him, needing him to fill her and as if reading her mind, he started to unbutton his pants, removing them along with his boxers slowly to reveal his hard erection.Annette gulped; his was bigger than any man she's ever taken and she was worried about how it would feel in her tight, rarely used cunt. It was completely erect, rock hard and ready for action, but instead of ploghing into her like she wanted him to,he raised his hand from behind his back and revealed some beadlike. His hands pushed me against the bed, holding me there. He was reminding me that he was in control. He was my daddy. My ruler, I was under his control. I was his slut, his slave and we liked it that way. He dug his hands into my flesh and controlled my every movement. He bent me backwards and dragged his tongue over me he reached my clit and simply breathed on it, no physical touch at all. I squirmed and he smiled. He knew how badly i wanted it. He knew how horribly he was teasing me.His grip.