Chapter One: A Woman In Need of a Change

Grace moaned, softly, as she worked the vibrator. Her other hand roughly pinched a nipple. On her phone, a blonde bimbo got plowed by two studs, the grunts and groans piping into Grace’s airpods. She felt her orgasm rising in time to the bimbo’s pumping, and she imagined the taste of the stud’s thick cock in her own mouth…

BANG BANG BANG “Gracie! Gracie, are you in there?”

Goddamnit, every fucking time! “Yeah, mom, I was taking a nap.”

Gritting her teeth in frustration, Grace jammed the sex toy under her mattress and scrambled into her clothes. She did her best ‘just woke up’ impression and cracked the bedroom door.

“Sweetie, you’ve got therapy at 6, you need to get up.”

Grace turned to look at the clock, then turned back to her mother with exasperation. “Mom, it’s only 2:30! I could’ve slept two or three times - er, hours!”

“I know, but we need groceries and I want you to stop at the Hobby Lobby and pick up some lavender oil for my soaps. I ran out and I need to make a condolence basket for Mrs. Westfall across the way.” Grace’s mom leaned in to whisper. “Her chihuahua died.”

“You don’t have to whisper mom, the dog can’t hear you.” Groaning inwardly, she shut the door and went to shower.

—

Grace Stavros drifted through her chores on autopilot, lost in thought. Here she was at 27 - living at home in Queens, working as a secretary, and desperately single.

One major problem, in Grace’s mind at least, was her looks. She was cute - almost terminally cute. She stood 5’ 1”, 100 pounds soaking wet, with modest curves, and a face that was adorable no matter how she did her makeup. Adjectives people used included “lovely,” “dainty,” “slight,” and “mousy.”

Grace looked like the girl next door, the girl you imagined holding back happy tears as you lifted her wedding veil, a future mom who would age gracefully into a grandmother.

But Grace wasn’t the girl next door, not inside.

Grace was a horny freak who wanted to get fucking railed, hard and nasty, around the clock.

Puberty had hit Grace like a hammer, and she’d been hornier than any of her friends - hell, hornier than most of the teenage boys around her. She had a collection of sex toys before she had a driver’s license, and had gotten a PornHub Premium account the moment she had her own laptop.

High school had been a mess - Grace had been too scared of being branded a ‘slut’ to sleep around, and didn’t lose her virginity until senior year.

College had been the opposite problem. On her own for the first time, she absolutely cut loose. Her freshman year had been an endless parade of cheap beer, weed, and cute boys. By the time she came out of the bacchanal, Grace had a D- average and chlamydia.

She eventually pulled out of the tailspin, and found a balance between the classroom and the bedroom. Grace left school with a theatre degree and a sexual appetite that had only sharpened with four years of boyfriends and hookups.

Soon it felt like she was on her way - she got a lighting job at the Atlantic Theater, her own (tiny) apartment in Manhattan, and a pretty actor boyfriend who could keep up with her in bed. She was a strong, confident young woman with a bright future ahead of her.

Then COVID hit, and everything went to hell.

The theater shut down, Ethan went home to Chicago, and Grace moved back with her mom. Then months of lockdown, trapped at home, unemployed and masturbating. By the time things opened up again, Grace was stuck in a full-blown depression.

It had taken a year of exercise and therapy to pull herself together, and another year to find a job. But even then, things had never gotten back on track. Grace’s confidence had evaporated and she almost radiated an aura of ‘tiny sweet girl that needs lots of snuggles.’

Grace hated snuggles.

At work, she was everyone’s kid sister. One time she had hit on DeAndre Lawson and he not only missed the hint, but actually patted her head, like she was ten years old.

Dating was a disaster too. The decent guys all took things way too slow, and the fuckbois were all creeps. One notable asshole hadn’t taken the hint until she threw her martini in his face and kicked him in the balls. Grace had abandoned Tinder after that.

Now she stood alone, comparing frozen lasagnas, six fuckless months later.

I just need a push, she thought, something to get me in the game again! Something to remind them all I’m not ‘cute!’

—

Groceries and oils delivered, Grace took the N train to 28th Street, to the offices of Doctor Linda Featherstone. The psychiatrist had helped her through the really black times of the depression, gotten her back into the world when everything seemed hopeless - and for that Grace would be forever grateful.

They’d had less success in Grace’s love life. Things had been improving, but Mr Kick-to-the-Balls had sent her back to square one, and the doctor’s reassurances hadn’t been terribly reassuring. “Still gotta do it,” Grace muttered to herself. “I’m not going to magic my insecurities away.”

The hair on the back of Grace’s neck stood up as she opened the office door. Something was off, a strange vibration in the air, a noise she could feel but not hear. The normal reception lady was gone - in her place was a small man, middle aged, with graying brown hair and a neat beard. He was dressed in a nice gray suit, an old-fashioned cut, which seemed overly formal for the situation. He smiled politely at her as she stood in the hall.

“Ah, Ms Stavros, yes? Perfect timing!” He stood up and offered Grace his hand, not moving from the desk. Not wanting to be rude, she entered and took it. “I’m Robert, filling in for Delilah. I’m afraid she’s taken ill - as has Doctor Featherstone. Very sudden, very short notice.”

Grace sighed, shoulders sagging. “So I came all the way here for nothing? Crap.”

“Oh no no!” Robert shook his head, still smiling. “Your session hasn’t been cancelled. Doctor Featherstone has transferred all her clients to my employer until she recovers.” He pointed back to the door. “His office is just down the hall on the right. I can escort you there.”

Grace took a small step back. “That seems… kinda weird. I think I should call the doctor…”

Robert waved a dismissive hand as Grace pulled out her phone. “There’s no need to call - the doctor is in her office, resting a bit before heading home.” He picked up the desk phone. “Excuse me Doctor, could you come out? Ms Stavros is here, and she’s concerned about the transfer.”

After a moment, Doctor Featherstone emerged from her office. She was shockingly pale, shivering beneath a black turtleneck. “Hello Grace… sorry for all this trouble. I just got… so tired and weak all of the sudden. My apologies, I’ll have Delilah reschedule ASAP.”

Grace raised an eyebrow. “This guy says you transferred my appointment?”

The doctor raised an eyebrow in return, looking askance at Robert. “What? That’s ridic - “ Then she stopped speaking, her jaw audibly clicking shut. Her eyes were glassy as she turned back to Grace.

~~That is correct. I am unwell, and the good doctor has graciously agreed to take on my caseload until I recover. He is an excellent psychiatrist, and is well equipped to help you with your sexual issues. He is Romanian. Everything is normal.~~

Something is deeply wrong, Grace thought to herself.

~~No, everything is fine and normal,~~ a thought in her head replied - which logically, Grace herself must have thought. ~~You - I mean, I - should immediately head to your appointment - MY appointment, damnit!~~

Her concerns apparently addressed, Grace said goodbye and let Robert escort her down the hall. The door at the end was a large slab of smoke-blackened oak, ornately carved and set in a medieval frame. The whole thing was deeply out of place among the contemporary Manhattan chic, but Grace realized ~~it had always been there and was normal.~~

She moved to grab the iron handle, but the door opened by itself. Beyond was an average waiting room, a handful of chairs next to a water cooler and some dog-eared magazines. A single door of modern design sat at the far end.

Robert moved to the desk and pressed a button, and the second door clicked open.

“The doctor is waiting inside. Please, enter of your own free will.”

Grace swallowed hard as she approached the door. She paused for a moment, then walked through. The room seemed more or less like any other psychiatrist’s office - warm lighting, wall of books, couch for Grace to lay on, huge black oak desk carved to look like a dragon.

Behind the desk, the doctor looked up at her. He was a large man, with wild black hair and a long droopy mustache. He wore a white dress shirt under a grey sweater vest, khakis and a long black cape. His eyes were grey and shined like fire, and his smile seemed to have too many teeth.

~~All perfectly normal.~~

“Ah, Ms Grace Stavros. I bid you welcome to my office.” He rose, and then was next to her and kissing her hand.

Grace jumped slightly at the greeting. “Oh! Um… yeah. Pleased to meet you, Doctor…”

He took a step back and bowed. “Acula. I am… Doctor Acula. Please, rest upon the couch and tell me of your troubles. ~~Hold nothing back, no matter how carnal~~ - no secrets can be kept from Doctor Acula.”

Feeling dazed, Grace nonetheless laid back on the couch and told her story from the top, the doctor back at his desk. The words seemed to spill out - her life, her troubles, her frustrations, and her burning lust. That she discussed in both length and detail. Doctor Acula listened intently, taking notes and interrupting only occasionally with questions.

“Was it three or four men you serviced at the fraternity party?”

“Would you prefer sexual congress on the first date, or before the first date?”

“So the officer dropped the speeding ticket but not the illegal lane change. How did that make you feel?”

After what felt like hours, Grace finally got to today’s interrupted masturbation. As she finished the monologue, her mind cleared - and she realized that she’d just told a complete stranger every graphic detail of her sex life and her desires. She blushed furiously, filling with shame. She turned to face the doctor, ready for judgement and condemnation.

She saw only compassion and sympathy in those burning grey eyes, a kindred spirit who understood her perfectly. The relief that cascaded through her body was almost as good as an orgasm. He rose from his desk and he seemed to fill the room, a shadow that shielded and soothed her. ~~Which, again, was perfectly normal.~~

“The people of this grey world condemn you, Grace Stavros. They call you harlot, they call you whore, they call you slut. They hate you, because their souls are tiny sparks while yours is a bonfire.”

“But Doctor Acula does not hate you. I see you, I see your hunger, and I revel in it. I too am a… creature of appetite. I know what it is to have red desire overwhelm all reason - and in turn to have black melancholy smother all desire.”

“You found the balance once, Grace Stavros, but this modern plague stole it from you. Doctor Featherstone could not help you reclaim it - but I can!” The Doctor raised a hand dramatically, cape fluttering as he pointed to the heavens. Lightning flashed in the window behind him, the thundercrack making Grace jump.

“DOCTOR ACULA SHALL HELP YOU GET YOUR GROOVE BACK!”

There was a long, somewhat awkward pause as Grace took this in. She moved to a sitting position and tried to collect her thoughts. “Um, ok, thanks Doc. I’d really like to ‘get my groove back.’ But how? I’ve been on the couch for years now, and we’ve tried every antidepressant known to man.”

“Ahh…” the doctor smiled, flawless white teeth bared. “That is where Featherstone failed. She limited herself to things known to man.”

Doctor Acula opened a desk drawer and removed a small bottle shaped like a heart - not a cartoon heart, but a real human heart. It was dark crimson, nearly black, and it glowed in the light of the full moon. Grace’s eyes were drawn to it like a magnet, and she wanted it.

“You have the soul of a Venus, a Freya, an Ishtar - chained to a life of grey mundanity. This phial can pick the locks of those chains, make your outer life properly reflect your inner life. It can transform you into something more worthy of your appetites.”

Transform? The word set off an alarm bell in Grace’s mind. Part of her knew ~~everything was normal and fine~~, but another part of her knew the first part of her was full of shit. She stood and took a step backwards. “I… I don’t think I want…”

Then she was standing next to the doctor at the window, staring into his burning eyes. “But you do want it, Grace Stavros. You want to live a life unchained. Simply submit to your desire…”

“Holy shit, you’re trying to drug me!” Grace drove her knee into the doctor’s groin, and he crumpled to the ground, groaning and swearing in Romanian. She darted across the room, grabbing her purse and shoes up off the floor.

From his back, balls aching, Doctor Acula waved limply at the door, which slammed shut just before Grace reached it. She wheeled, dropping the shoes and pulling pepper spray from the bag. “Come on creep, just fucking try it! I will melt the eyes from your fucking skull!”

“Jesus fuck woman, calm down!” The doctor dragged himself into his chair, tried to catch his breath. “I’m not trying to drug you!” He paused. “I am trying to give you a drug - but I’m a doctor! I’m supposed to give you drugs! I’m not, like, slipping you a drug!”

“You’re no doctor - you’re just a Russian sex-creep!” Grace was furious, her fear washed away by the outrage of it all. It had been a long time since she’d been this mad. She marched up to the desk, spray in hand.

Now it was Doctor Acula’s turn to be outraged. “Hey fuck you! I am a doctor! MD, John Hopkins, 1949! ABPN certified since 1953! And I AM ROMANIAN, not RUSSIAN!” With a snarl, he pointed to the opposite wall, which was filled with diplomas, certifications and awards.

Grace stared at the wall for a moment, then back at the doctor. She lowered the pepper spray a little. “Ok…fair enough.” Sheepishly she added, “Sorry I caved your balls in.”

He waved her off as he composed himself. “Forget it. I got caught up, tried to do it old school. You’re a strong willed woman - seduction by moonlight wasn’t gonna work.” He opened the drawer again, and pulled out a bottle. “You want a drink? I love wine.”

The suggestion of booze, after a drug scare, didn’t go over well at first - but the doctor took a long pull off the bottle before handing it over. Mollified, Grace took her paper water cup and poured. “So you say you’re a doctor and you’re trying to help. Assuming I believe you, what’s this medicine in the creepy bottle gonna do?” She knocked back her drink - a really good red.

“It’ll change you. Your body, your life, your past - whatever. A drop on the tongue by moonlight, a clear and heartfelt description of your desire and… whammo!” Dr Acula pounded his left fist into his palm to emphasize the point.

“Oh come on. Whammo? First you’re a doctor, now you’re a magic doctor?” She stood up and made to leave. “This is nuttier than a squirrel fart. Thanks for the drink, Gandalf.”

Doctor Acula gritted his teeth. “Goddamnit, I have tickets to Book of Mormon tonight!” He gestured and Grace rose a foot into the air, floating back to the desk. As she rotated to face him, her eyes were full of fury.

“Now stop being an asshole and ~~stick out your tongue!~~”

As Grace’s jaw levered open, Doctor Acula pulled the dropper from the phial. The fluid inside glowed a faint red. A single drop fell onto her outstretched tongue. She tasted blood and honey, and her whole body started to tingle.

“Grace Stavros, daughter of lust, ~~I command you to speak!~~ What would you change?”

“I..I..” Grace’s mind swam - the whole situation was insane, she couldn’t find her voice. Doctor Acula, clearly irritated, tapped his watch and scowled. As the tingling redoubled, her anger and fear faded, and the possibilities suddenly sprang up. What if it was true?

“I want long legs!”

There were two loud pops, and suddenly Grace was standing again… though she hadn’t been lowered to the ground. She looked down. Her feet were firmly planted on the carpet, attached to legs that were almost a foot longer than they used to be. She looked back up at Doctor Acula, eyes wide with shock.

He shoved the phial into her unresisting hands. “One drop before midnight, any time the moon is visible. Side effects include dry mouth, headache, insomnia and lowered inhibitions. Do not take it while driving or operating heavy machinery. We’ll have a follow up appointment in 28 days to see how you’re doing.”

~~“NOW SLEEEEEEEP!”~~ He waved his hand dramatically and Grace slumped to the floor.