It’s Monday, the week after my tenure as a cat.  I had gone home to Renton over the weekend.  For the first time since I met Beatrix, I had to go more than a day without feeling like myself in my own body.  I knew that being in my feminine form eliminated my gender dysphoria, but I had forgotten just how much it sucks.  That, of course, was exacerbated by my parents’ continual deadnaming and misgendering.  Don’t they see how disrespectful and hateful that is? I think angrily, not for the first time and certainly not for the last.  Needless to say, I was not in the best mood when I got back home to WWU via train and bus yesterday evening.

Bea—who had been hanging out with Gabi, teaching her the finer points of how to lose at Super Mario Party—and Gabi made short work of cheering me up.  Being groped can have that effect, especially when your hands are bound by invisible cloth cuffs to the bottom of the top bunk, and the two women doing the groping are as beautiful, talented, and horny as Gabi and Beatrix.

I’m between classes right now, sitting in the CS lab on the fourth floor of the CF, killing time.

After narrowly losing a game of ping pong, I get a text from Beatrix.

Bea 🦹🏼‍♀️
Hey, are you hanging around this weekend?  Will you be busy?

 

Sarah
I plan to stay, and no, I don’t have any plans.  I figured I’d be kissing you or Babs or both.  Why?

 

Bea 🦹🏼‍♀️
We’re having dinner with Gabs’s parents.

Sarah
I sense I have no choice in the matter

 

Bea 🦹🏼‍♀️
Good girl

 

Sarah
😳

Wonder why she’s compelling me to go, I think.  I’d have gone regardless.  I shrug to myself, which probably looks a bit strange to anyone watching me.  I shrug again.  Bea’s compulsion, unnecessary though it was, sends a shiver down my spine.  I do so much thinking; it’s always noisy in my head.  It’s nice when someone takes over and thinks for me sometimes.

Gabi walks into our room Thursday evening.  I’d spent the afternoon and evening of my favorite holiday—Groundhog’s Day, obviously—head down on an assignment for my Automata Theory class due Friday morning.  “How was your date?” I ask her.

She’s glowing.  “Mmm.  It’s been a long time since I had a date with someone so engaging.  Selfishly, I am grateful that you’re a good little sub.  Otherwise, Trixy and I wouldn’t be dating.”

“‘Trixy’?” I ask, amused.

“Yep!  She hates it.”  I snort.  “You almost done with your project?”

“I’ve got about twenty minutes left.”  She nods and boots up Mario Kart 8 Deluxe.

I finish my program forty-five minutes later, having forgotten Hofstadter’s law when giving my twenty-minute estimate: “It always takes longer than you expect, even when you take into account Hofstadter’s law.”

Gabi aborts her game of Mario Kart mid-race and opens Super Smash Bros. Ultimate.  “So what did you two do?” I ask her.

“A lady never tells,” she says enigmatically.

“Then it’s a good thing there are no ladies here.”

“It is, isn’t it?” she says, amused.

“We didn’t do anything too exciting,” Gabi says with a finishing move to Yoshi’s face.  “We had dinner together, talked, did some smoochin’.  I had no idea she liked to be spanked so much, did you?”

I pause the game and violently jerk my head to look at her, mouth agape.

“Just kidding, Babes.  We didn’t do anything sexier than tongue wrestling.”

I unpause the game and a long second passes.  “You know I wouldn’t have minded if you had, right?” I say softly.

“I didn’t, but I’m glad I do now.  Thanks, Sarah.  I appreciate you being willing to open your relationship with her to me.  Not a lot of people wouldn’t get jealous.”

“No doubt I will from time to time, but, from what I’ve read, open communication can mitigate that.  Same goes for you, okay?  If you’re ever jealous, it’s important to me—both for your sake and for the sake of our polycule—that we be able to talk it out.”

She smiles and gives me a nod.  “Will do.”

“I’m glad you had fun, though.”  After a quiet moment of thought, I ask, “Did you give Bea consent to play with you like she does me?”

“No, why?”

“Wednesday last week, when we picked Bea up from her class before you two made me chase a hecking laser pointer, we were a couple minutes late—you’re welcome, by the way—and it looked like Bea gave you the same punishment she gave me.”

“She did.”

“But you never consented to that?”

“No, I guess I didn’t.  Not explicitly anyway.”

“Hmm.  Okay,” I mumble, perplexed.

“Is that important?”

“Very.  It means we don’t understand the rules of her ability like we thought we did.  I shouldn’t have been able to affect Claire.  Bea shouldn’t have been able to affect you.  We’re missing something.”

“Is it your skill at Smash Bros?” she teases.  “I don’t usually kick your cute patootie this badly.”  Babs suddenly looks stricken.  “Trixy isn’t affecting you somehow, is she?”

I chuckle.  “Nope, this is just good ol’ fashioned absentmindedness.  I’m still thinking a bit about the project I just finished and this thing about Beatrix’s ability.  I’ll refocus.”

I take the next four matches.

“Maybe you could focus a little less,” Gabi suggests.

“How about we play a game we can both win?” I say, looking at her.

She turns to me.  “Wha–”  I wag my eyebrows.  “Oh, you perv,” she says affectionately.  “Come here.”  We kiss long and soft until I’m good and heady.  “A gal could get used to this,” Gabi says softly.  “Go shut the door.”

I do as instructed and she lies down on the bed on her back.  I climb over her to lie by her side.  “That’s not exactly what I had in mind, Darlin’.”

I smile and then roll over to straddle her.  I bend down to kiss her, but she holds my lips back with a finger.  “Are you sure you want to do this?”  I nod slowly, thoughtfully.  “This can mean as much or as little as you want it to, okay?  I know that it will mean something different to me, and I don’t expect you to meet me at my level of infatuation.”

“Thanks, Gabi.  I appreciate that.  Now kindly hush and let me kiss you.”

“If I were a lady, I’d be offended by that kind of talk.”  She sits up to kiss me, betraying ab muscles I didn’t know she had.

“Wait,” I say before she sits all the way up.  “Just how much are you missing dick?”

A mischievous smirk tugs at her lips.  “That depends.  How’s your dysphoria?”

“It’s settled down since this weekend.  Four days straight with a vage will do that.”

“In that case, I’m missing dick quite a lot.”

I start a text to Beatrix: “Would you return my penis until…”  I look at Gabi.  “How much energy do you have?”

She snorts and peeks at my phone.  “How about ‘until we’re done mashing our bodies together into a boneless pulp?’”

I turn back to my phone.  “…until I no longer want it?”  I tap send.  Moments later, my dick reforms.  Thankfully, my boobs remain in place.

“I guess this means I should take my clothes off, hmm?” Gabi flirts, a playful grin on her face.

My only response is to sit up onto my knees and pull my dress, bra, and panties off.  Gabi takes her shirt, bra, and pants off, but leaves her underwear in place.  I give her a questioning look.

“You’ll have to work for that,” she teases.

I smirk.  “Work, work.”  I bend down, but stop halfway.  “Wait,” I say again.

“What this time?” she asks.

I think for a moment.  “Gabi, did you mean what you said the other night, that you want to be more open with me?”

“Of course I did.”

“Then I think it’s time I stop lying to myself.”  I breathe in some courage.  “I’m crazy about you.”

“I’m–”  She cuts off, speechless.  With glistening, round brown eyes, she looks at me.

And then we’re together.  Our mouths, our nipples, our bellies.  Our hands are in each other’s hair.  Mine slip down her neck, down to the small of her back.  She moans into my mouth as my hands descend.

She falls back unceremoniously, and I take the cue to grip her shoulders and start kissing down her body.  Her elegant collarbone, her full, tender breasts.  I spend some time teasing the two inches across her soft, dark chocolate nipples.  They erect under my tongue’s caress, and I keep going.  Around, across, reverse.  Her puffy areolas contract, elongating her tips.  At last I give them each a soft suckle.  On the second breast, I don’t stop.  I suck hard, pulling as much of her supple flesh into my mouth as I can.  She lets out a whimper.  I grab her other breast in my hand, tit between my middle- and ring fingers.  I grope hard, and turn her whimper in a scream of mind-siphoning pleasure.  Her back arcs in a mini-climax and she falls back to the mattress, hungrily moaning for more.

Leaving her top half to recover, my hands journey down each of her flawlessly smooth, curvaceous sides as I push myself further down her Oshunian body.  I kiss my Pillow Princess’s navel—a quick lick induces an aroused giggle—and continue kissing downward until my lips are at the hem of her panties.

I glance up at her.  Her back is arching and squirming uncomfortably at the continuous arousing touches, her head aimed straight up at my bunk above us.  “Have I worked enough for this?” I ask.

She cranes her neck down to look at me, and I nod at her panties.  In a strained, desperate voice from her strained, desprate face, she answers, “Shut up and fuck me, Sarah.”

I chuckle.  “Yes, Princess.”

I shift back further, reach to either of her hips, and shimmy her underwear off.  She moves her legs in concert, and once her left leg is free, she kicks the panties off with the toes of her right foot.  They land strewn atop the screen of her open laptop.

My phone buzzes; my customary instinctual urge to look remains completely inert—no temptation whatsoever.

I resume my oral exploration down her body.  Her bikini area is completely bald—waxed by the look of it—and my mouth waters as I kiss and lick and nibble the sensitive skin above her taint.  My tongue quickly finds her bright pink womanhood beneath four dark folds—two black cherry betwixt two black walnut—and eagerly laps it up.  Gabi tastes different than Beatrix—less tangy, more sweet.  The moan she emits, however, is the equal of any I’ve ever heard.  Her need—delivered audibly—fills me, drives me, makes me.  I need Gabi.  I need her as much as I need oxygen.

I pull myself back up her body, my face level with hers.  Then I wince as I remember a newly relevant, immediate question.  “Are you on birth control?” I whisper.  Gabi nods.

That’s all I need.  I slip myself into her.  She’s phenomenal.  There’s no other word to describe how it feels to be in her, how it feels to have her tightening around me.  We share this sublime nearness, and in that moment, Gabi is all I ever want.

Our hips’ thrusts increase in speed and rigor as I ride her and she pumps her body against mine.  “Right there, right there, yes, harder,” she breathes into my ear, as our sweat-slick breasts brush up and down against each other.  The feel of her wet pussy as it slides effortlessly against my dick drives me mad with arousal, lust, and more.  I can see she’s nearly to climax, and the thought brings me to my edge.

Something primal causes me to slow, denying her—denying us both—the release we seek.  I keep thrusting, keep us on the edge, but it quickly becomes apparent that she’s frus–

“Please, Sarah, please make me come.”

So that’s what I was waiting for.  Good to know.  I make two more powerful thrusts, and, together, we crash over the edge.  I open my eyes as I spill into her and see her O-face; it’s the holiest image I’ve ever laid eyes on.

“More, more,” she begs me.  After a couple more pleasurable, lightheaded surges, I feel myself begin to deflate; I pull out of her—the sensation of touch against my softening cock is … tasty?  Synesthesia is weird, I think idly—and quickly begin fingering her with both hands.  One hand fondles the clit and the other sinks two fingers into her canal.  Nearly spent, I act out of animal instinct rather than conscious technique.  Gabi thrusts herself into my hands, and comes once more.  She bodysurfs the orgasmic wave all the way to shore.  Her body falls limp as she begins the process of catching her breath.  I fall down limp beside her to catch mine.

Panting and sweating, we stare into each other’s eyes.  A nebulous understanding passes between us.  An understanding of what, I have no idea.  It’s primal communication, and we know we have something we both need, both have needed since we started rooming together, whether I knew it or not.

Indeterminate time passes as we cool off.  I take the opportunity to examine her body more fully.  God, she’s marvelous.  Neither of us move, but I suddenly feel her skin against me; I look down to discover I’m erect again.  I blush and she giggles at me.  “I don’t think I can go another round, Babes,” she says regretfully.

“That’s quite alright.  I don’t think I can either.  I’m just wondering why I still have it.  We finished our fun, so shouldn’t it have morphed back into a vage?”

“Text Beatrix?” she suggests.

I roll over her and off the bed to grab my phone from my desk.  There’s already a text from Beatrix—the buzzing I ignored earlier.

Bea 🦹🏼‍♀️
Rather than you needing to text me each time, I’ve made it so any time you snap your fingers and think ‘dick’, your pussy will change into your masculine genitalia, and any time you snap your fingers and think ‘revert’, your dick will recede back into your normal state

Your “normal state”, I think.  To Beatrix, my feminine body is my default state; my dick is the aberration.  I snap my fingers and think, Revert.

“Wow,” I hear Gabi say beside me.  I turn and see she’s watching the process with a fascinated expression.  When the transformation is finished, she continues looking.  “I really like your pussy,” she whispers secretly.  “It’s pretty.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I climb back onto her bed to straddle her, and draw us both into yet another long, beautiful kiss.

Gabi is my girlfriend.

Friday, after our morning classes, all three of us blow off our afternoon classes and Beatrix drives the two of us to Gabi’s home in Oak Harbor.  It’s the first time I’ve been out this way to Whidbey Island, and the early-afternoon drive across the Deception Pass bridge is nothing short of breathtaking.  Sky blue water a thousand feet (300m) below us, a three-acre evergreen wooded isle to the left, and a smaller one to the right.

Gabi and I had spent the previous blissful night cuddling naked in her bunk until we fell asleep together, me—at 95% boyish sans penis—the 5’9½” (177cm) big spoon, my right arm under her neck and the left draped across her soft, bare waist.  The memory enhances the view from the bridge, mnemonically links it, and I know whenever I cross the bridge again, I’ll remember last night.

We pull up a steep driveway of a two-story, cornflower blue house with navy blue trim and large windows.  I stretch as we pile out of the silver, two-door coup, which bears the Washington vanity plate: BEG4TRX.  I’ll have to give her shit about that social travesty later.

Gabi leads us up a flight of wooden patio steps, knocks twice, and opens the door.  “Hi, Moms!” she shouts.  A chubby old Australian shepherd named Wilbur looks up from his bed, but otherwise doesn’t move at the sight of Gabi.  When he sees Bea and me, he rises lazily and walks over to give us each a halfhearted sniff; content that we are “two of the good ones”, he returns to his bed.  His behavior, in my opinion, makes him one of the good ones.

Rita waves through the doorless doorway to the kitchen, then dries her hands and comes in to greet us.  “Mom,” Gabi says, “this is my roommate, Sarah, whom you’ve met once or twice, and this is her girlfriend Trixy.”

“Beatrix,” Bea corrects quickly with a glare at Gabi.  Gabi gives her her best bisexual wink.  Bea’s glare turns affectionate, but a glare it remains.

“It’s so good to see you again, Sarah!  And nice to meet you, Beatrix!” she says in a mild Mexican-native accent mixed with a stronger Georgian one.  “Bex, Gabi’s here!” she shouts to her wife.  She turns to me.  “If I remember correctly, you’re a hugger.”  Without giving me time to confirm, the shortish woman pulls me into a bear hug.  “What about you, Beatrix?”

“I’ll take a hug!”

A second later, a tall white woman with shoulder-length brunette hair walks in.  “Mom,” Gabi repeats with identical inflection, “this is my roommate, Sarah, whom you’ve met once or twice, and this is her girlfriend Beatrix.”  She makes a show of not calling her “Trixy”, as if basic respect were a favor.

Bex gives us both warm handshakes, then pulls me into a hug.  “Are you … shorter than normal?” she asks as we pull apart.

“HRT can cause someone to shrink,” I say hastily.  The statement is true—therefore I am not lying—but it’s not actually why I’m shorter.

“Oh, fascinating!  And your face has gotten much fuller, much more feminine!”

I smile genuinely at that.  I know that my masculine face is filling in due to hormones, and will eventually look identical to the feminine face I’m currently wearing.  “Thanks!  I really appreciate that.”  The tall woman beams at me.

“Come in, come in!” Rita says, gesturing toward the living room.  The three of us take a seat on the plush, dark leather couch, as Bex flips the light switch, and Gabi’s moms each take large leather armchairs to face us.  “So, tell us about yourself, Beatrix.”

“Umm,” she umms hesitantly.  “I’m originally from the UK, moved to Bear Creek in year 9 for my parents' jobs at Microsoft.  I have a baby sister named Claire—okay, fifteen years old, but she’s still my baby sister.  I’m studying physics, and have been dating Sarah for about three weeks now.”

“How … adequate,” Bex says regarding the quality of the description with a smirk.

“I dunno,” Bea whines, blushing.  “I never know what to say when someone asks me that.”  Both moms smile at her.  “I’m a Scorpio?” she adds weakly.  Bex looks indifferent to the statement, while Rita nods as if that’s all she needed to know.  “Though to be completely honest, I have no idea what that means.”

“Mom, Mama,” Gabi says, relieving Beatrix of the attention, “I need to tell you something.”  Both women shift their attention to her, faces taking on serious casts.  “I’m”—she takes a deep breath—“bisexual, and probably polyamorous.  Beatrix and Sarah are my girlfriends.”

Bex looks delighted and Rita exclaims, “That’s wonderful!”

Bex follows with, “Well now it’s doubly nice to meet you.  How long have you three been a throuple?  Or are you a throuple?”

Gabi replies, “Yes, we’re a throuple but each of us have paired relationships with each other, too.”

“That’s the best way to do it,” Bex says, an ambiguous indication that she might have firsthand experience.  “And how long?”

“About a week,” Gabi says, “so not long, though I’ve been crushing on Sarah for at least a year, and like she said, Trixy and Sarah started dating three weeks ago.”

I’m impressed that neither mother makes mention of Gabi’s previous insistence that she was straight.  It’s something my mom would have brought up intending it as gentle teasing, but would feel, to me, slightly barbed.

We spend an hour or so discussing how school is going for each of us, then giving a heavily redacted account of how Bea and I met followed by how Bea and Gabi met.  Both women are actively intrigued by the retelling.

Depleted of words for the moment, the three of us head upstairs, carrying our bags to Gabi’s bedroom.  While smaller than Beatrix’s room in Bear Creek, it’s still a big improvement over our dorm rooms.  Gabi shuts the door behind her—ambient noise silencing completely—as I shrug off my duffle bag.

Immediately, I lose my balance, fall over, and float to the ground.  When I try to stand back up, my hands, knees, and feet slip and slide all over the place, unable to gain purchase, leaving me prone once more.

A confused glance at my girlfriends’ faces reveals plans of sinister intent.  Uh oh.

Bea leans back against the wall in the corner of the room.  She effortlessly flicks a finger up, and I shoot up into the air, about three quarters the way to the ceiling.  As I float back down, Gabi steps to me and easily pulls my dress off.  I barely feel it as it slides off my body.

Bea moves her finger in a circle along the horizontal plane, and I spin around 180° so my feet are facing Gabi.  She eagerly pulls off my panties.  I spin another 180°, around the vertical plane this time, so that I’m face up.  Gabi gets under me and pushes me up with her fingertips as if setting a volleyball.  I float back up, and she reaches up to unclasp my bra.  Flinging it from my shoulders, the bra loses its antigravity and falls to the floor at the standard 9.8m/s².

“So,” I say in a laughable attempt at ‘evenly’, “this is new.”  I land and once again, roll over—which is different than in normal circumstances, but not harder despite my slick state—and try to push myself to my feet to no avail.  My hands slip as if coated in oil, my arms fly out to the sides, spread eagle, and I fall on my flattish chest again.

From the corner, Bea mocks, “Is my pet unable to get a grip on her new reality?”

Gabi shoves my foot, and I slide across the floor like a hockey puck.  Beatrix stops me with a stilettoed foot—When did she put those on?—then twists her finger again.  I spin upright and she gives me a mocking kiss before shoving me back at Gabi with a single finger to my sternum.

“I think it’s time Gabs had her way with you, my little fuck doll.”

My mind goes a curious mixture of blank, needy, and scared.  I’d do anything for these women does battle with I don’t want to be their fuck doll in my head.

I need to escape.  I grope for anything around me to propel me away, but there is nothing within reach.  Gabi gives me a mocking laugh full of sadistic mirth.

“Be girly, Sarah.”  My body transforms at her command.  Gabi, ever fascinated by the process, giggles with delight.

“Gabrielle, fuck my pet for me, would you, Darling?”  Gabi screams at the unexpected command.  She, too, begins floating up in zero-G, and what little weight I had evaporates.  Gabi becomes a horny marionette, groping me, kissing me, spinning me around to force her fingers into me.  I cry out in pain while my inner sub cries out in pleasure.  All the while, my mind is blank.  I need to be fucked—that is my purpose as a fuck doll—but I don’t want to be fucked.  They’re emotions, not thoughts.

Gabi ravages me.  The only indication that she’s not in control of her body is the scared yet eminently aroused look in her eyes.  While she clearly knew what I was to experience, she was not at all expecting to lose her own volition.

Gabi ravages me, and helpless, I lean into it.  I take her pumping fingers and biting teeth like the good fuck doll I am, pleased to fulfill my purpose, ecstatic to please my Mistress.  The intoxicating freedom of simply doing as told, the freedom to enjoy myself, floods into my head.

Beatrix snaps her fingers, and a medium size double-sided strapless dildo manifests into existence in Gabi’s vage.  Gabi moans in pleasure at the sudden penetration, then eagerly thrusts its shaft into my frictionless vagina.  My eyes roll back in my head at the violent pleasure of it, and Gabi reaches a mini-climax.  At the sound, my eyes return to their normal positions.  Gabi pulls out of me, spins me around, and takes me—far more gently this time—in my frictionless ass.  I roll my eyes back again as she softly pumps in and out, hitting that anal g-spot over and over.

Despite all this bliss—those of the touch, of the paradoxical freedom, and of the fact that it’s at the hands of these two most beautiful women—I feel only half the pleasure I would expect to feel from it.  I feel pent up and somewhat frustrated at the diminished, unsatisfactory buildup.  Gabi, whose sense of touch seems amplified, takes joy at having her very own fuck doll to play with, her ministrations involuntary though they be.  She comes hard with a half-moan half-scream.

At her feature-length orgasm, we begin floating down to the ground.  She pulls out of me as we drop.  We land and my bodily friction and normal gravity is restored, but my lucidity remains trapped behind my fuck-doll persona.

“Stand up girls,” Beatrix Speaks and we eagerly obey.  “Now the fun part.”  That wasn’t the fun part?  “You see, Gabi, Sarah felt half of what she should have.  In fact, you received the pleasure she didn’t get.  At the same time, Sarah’s body knows what she should have felt.  We feel it now.”

Half a fuck’s worth of pleasure rips through me all at once, combining with the half-built orgasm from before, and I fall, shuddering to my hands and knees.  I’m overwhelmed with gratitude as I receive the treatment I, a fuck doll, am due.  Gabi and Bea, apparently receive the same burst of sensation, for they follow my movements to their knees.  All three of us moan and writhe on the floor as the orgasmic pressure mounts, mounts, mounts, and shoves us over the ledge.  Gabi and I collapse, while Bea sits up.

I glance up to her face.  Her expression is a heated mixture of satisfaction and rapturous amusement at Gabi’s and my inability to resist her lusty whims.

“That was … something … else,” Gabi says, sucking in lungfuls of air.  “I’m … not supposed … to be a … sub, … but damn, girl. … You know … how to … show me … a good time.”  Beatrix’s satisfied grin spreads impossibly wider as glee joins the mix.

With effort, I finally push myself back to hands and knees.  I crawl to Beatrix, wrap my arms around her, and kiss her as hard as I can.  She resists for a split second, then falls into it, submitting to my fervor, until we are both, once again, breathless.  We fall backward, prone.  “Oww,” I hear softly from Beatrix as her head hits the navy-carpeted floor.  “We are in Gabi’s bed.”  We’re transported but our clothes stay where they are and limply deflate to the ground.  The three of us nakedly recover between the sheets on the semi-firm mattress, the only sounds, our heavy breathing.

My sanity restored, I let out a giggle thinking back over everything that just happened.  It’s infectious, and shortly all three of us lie there giggling.  I can now remember this fantasy I had once outlined to Beatrix.  With Beatrix in the middle, I turn my head to whisper in her ear.  “Thank you, Beatrix.  That was everything I hoped it would be and more.”

She nods her response with a contented, happy smile.  And with that, we fall asleep—three cuddling naked girls—until Bex calls us down for dinner.