It was hard to comprehend how Shelby could have so much furniture. Their front lawn was frankly littered with chairs, tables, desks, lamps, closets, chests of drawers, and even a hatstand or two. How could one person have acquired so many things in only 27 years? How could they even afford it?

Then again, Brighton mused as her eyes flickered between an armchair and a cushioned footstool, Shelby did live alone. In a two-storey house. Which was a minor miracle in today’s economy. Perhaps they were rich - perhaps they inherited a vast fortune? Brighton couldn’t remember them ever discussing their parents, or any other family for that matter. And Brighton had been paying attention.

Shelby had moved in next door almost four years ago, when Brighton had been sixteen - and undergoing something of a sexual awakening. The arrival of the cool, mysterious Canadian enby with the brunette pixie cut had awoken something in her, and she’d never missed an opportunity to sneak a glance at them from over their low fence. She’d spent many a night fantasising about herself with Shelby, in a variety of scenarios ranging from the adorably romantic to the unutterably lewd.

Shelby seemed to take the attention in their stride without directly addressing it, never taking advantage of Brighton’s crush but never warning her off either. They’d struck up a friendship with Brighton’s entire family actually, and had invited them all over for ‘afternoon tea’ several times - which was delightfully and unexpectedly old-fashioned of them, especially considering that the first impressions they gave were more evocative of a tough biker. If anything, this bizarre contradiction only made Brighton like them all the more.

She continued to peruse the items, vaguely wondering if Shelby really was rich, and if so, why they needed to hold a yard sale. That question was dismissed with the thought: to declutter, obviously. The vast majority of Brighton’s mind, as well as her eyes, were focused on Shelby themself, who was standing in their front doorway talking amiably with Ian from three doors down, who seemed to be haggling over a vinyl record. Shelby’s glance drifted across their lawn as they continued the casual negotiation, and Brighton ducked behind a large wooden closet (that looked like it had been made in the nineteenth century) to avoid being caught staring at her neighbour.

Idiot. Leering at them in broad daylight, on their own property, she derided herself. For God’s sake, just be cool!

Making an effort to tidy her long dirty blonde hair, Brighton emerged from hiding. To her combined horror and delight, Shelby was walking towards her, an easy smile on their face.

“Hey, Lightbulb!” they called. Brighton blushed and giggled at the nickname. “You’re back from college, huh?”

“Um, y-yeah, a coup-couple days ago,” she stammered. “Been meaning to say hi...”

“Well, it’s great to see ya,” Shelby said breezily, seemingly not noticing the effect their friendly words were having on the nineteen-year-old. They gestured to the items surrounding them. “See anything you like?”

“Oh, uh, not really... I mean, I really like a lot of it,” Brighton said hurriedly. “There’s so much cool, like, ornate and artistic pieces here. Bu-but I don’t really need any furniture - already got a full set at my dorm room at college, so...”

“Ah, fair enough!” Shelby arched an eyebrow. “Though, that does raise the question of why you bothered coming to this yard sale...?”

Brighton’s eyes widened in mild panic, as her brain scrambled for an answer.

Thankfully, Shelby saved her the trouble, whether inadvertently and obliviously, or intentionally out of pity. “Maybe you’d like to look at my jewellery? I have a selection inside.” They waved an arm behind them in the direction of their house.

Brighton nodded. “Y-yeah, that sounds awesome!” ‘Awesome’? Tone it down, stupid.

Shelby grinned. “Follow me!” And they trotted off towards the open door, glancing back at Brighton. She followed eagerly, smiling and blushing as she recalled the many fantasies she’d had that began with Shelby saying precisely those words before leading her into their house.

***

Shelby stood to one side and allowed Brighton to pass them, before pushing the door shut. “May as well,” they said with a shrug. “There’s no-one else here now Ian’s left with his Duran Duran album, and I don’t expect anyone else is gonna show up this late. We have all the time in the world.”

Brighton shivered. Another sentence that came tantalisingly close to a line from her imagined scenarios. It was almost as if they were doing it on purpose!

As Shelby led the way to the living room, Brighton paused in the hallway, her eyes falling on a jade-coloured lamp on a small wooden table. She’d noticed the lamp before, but had never quite worked up the nerve to ask Shelby about it. The porcelain had been moulded into a specific shape - the shape of a naked lady, to be precise, though one of her hands covered the crotch. The woman’s boobs, however, were on full display, though partially obscured by the lampshade, as was her head, from the top of which the lightbulb protruded.

Noticing their guest had fallen behind, Shelby chuckled as they saw what had caught Brighton’s attention. “Afraid that one’s not for sale, Bulb,” she teased.

Brighton blushed. “I - yeah, I know! I just wondered... where did you get it?”

“I bought it, back when I lived in Canada,” they replied. “Just after a breakup. I saw it in a shop, and it reminded me of my ex. I even named it after her - Kelsey.” They grimaced. “Sad, huh?”

“No! No, I think that’s sweet,” Brighton reassured her. “It’s like, you still have a reminder of her, and what she meant to you...”

“Yeah...” Shelby shrugged. “I guess so. I’ve kinda moved on from her by now, but this...” They reached out and tapped one of the porcelain breasts with their fingernail. “At least this reminds me what a rockin’ body she had!”

Brighton gulped, offering Shelby a weak chuckle. She wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that.

They resumed the short trip to the living room, where a number of rings, necklaces and bracelets were laid out on the coffee table. Several of them had silver charms attached, of various designs.

Before Brighton could study any of them in great detail, Shelby picked up a necklace with one such charm hanging from it, holding it up in front of her. “Oh, I think this would really suit you,” they said eagerly.

She glanced at the charm, frowning. It appeared to be a little silver armchair. “Uh... why a chair?”

“Why not?” Shelby replied. “I must’ve thought it looked cute.”

“Where did you even get it?” Brighton giggled. “Who sells chair charms?”

“Dunno. Probably Vancouver - or maybe I got it when I went to Boston? Went on a crazy spending spree there, bought all kinds of crap.” They held out the necklace to her. “Here, try it on!”

Brighton hesitated.

“C’mon, you’ll look so cute!” Shelby winked at her.

Well, I have to try it on now.

She raised the chain and slipped it over her head, letting it fall into place around her neck. The little charm hung just above her cleavage. Looking down on it, she had to admit that despite the odd design, it did look pretty.

Brighton looked up to tell Shelby that they were right and ask how much the necklace cost, but the words evaporated in her throat. The Canadian’s hands were raised, fingers positioned in weird claw-like shapes. Their friendly grin had shifted into a predatory leer.

“Argatdi naruwat medhet ragta,” they hissed, making a sharp gesture with their outstretched fingers. Their hazel eyes flashed with an unearthly green light.

Brighton opened her mouth to ask what the fuck Shelby was talking about - only to be hit with a tidal wave of pleasure flooding through her entire body. Letting out a loud, surprised gasp, her eyes crossed and then rolled shut, and she sank to her knees, quivering uncontrollably.

It was like an orgasm, but in every part of her body from the neck down. She felt like it had all become one giant clit, cumming slowly but intensely. As the sensation went on and on, her body felt less and less solid, as if the amazing heat was liquefying her, melting her down. Only her head was left intact, with her eyes tightly closed and her mouth hanging open as she tried to endure what she was feeling, whimpering and moaning with abandon.

The world around her meant nothing. She’d forgotten that her parents, sister and brother were in the house next door. She’d forgotten that people might be passing by in the street outside and might hear her cry out in ecstasy. She’d even forgotten that Shelby was standing right in front of her. All that she could think of - all that she knew - was the incredible pleasure that was turning her body to molten lava.

Finally, the intensity subsided, leaving Brighton simmering at a lower level of arousal. The first thing she noticed, as she continued to pant and sigh with her eyes closed, was that she wasn’t moaning aloud any more. In fact, now that she thought about it, she hadn’t for a couple of minutes now. Strangely, as the pleasure had grown stronger, her voice had grown quieter, eventually disappearing.

The second thing she noticed was how her body felt. She was no longer a molten pool from the neck down - her body had solidified again, but... now it felt somehow... misshapen? Distorted? As if it really had melted, and then set again in a completely different shape.

The third and most significant thing Brighton noticed, as she finally cracked her bleary eyes open, was the solid back of a varnished brown wooden chair, inches away from her face. Blinking in surprise, she tried to look round - and found that she couldn’t. She couldn’t move her head. It was completely locked in place. She tried to speak, to call out for help, but no sound came out. Her vocal chords were paralysed. She could still inhale and exhale, and hear the air passing in and out of her mouth, but other than that she couldn’t make a single noise, apart from the wet sounds of her lips smacking and her tongue flicking as she tried in vain to say a single solitary syllable.

Her eyes still moved fine, though. And she could manage to look down far enough to see that below her head was the seat of the chair. It didn’t feel as though her head was poking through a hole in it. Rather, it felt of a piece with it - as if her neck was fused to it. As if she’d been beheaded, and her still-living head had been glued to the seat.

This should all be quite worrying. In fact, she mused, it should be utterly terrifying. She should be scared out of her mind.

So why wasn’t she? The strongest negative emotion she could muster was a kind of vague concern. But it was largely drowned out by curiosity, excitement, and arousal.

She could still feel her body, which put paid to the notion that she’d been decapitated. But only parts of it - she tried to wiggle her fingers and toes, only to find they were numb. And where was everything else? What had happened to her?

“I expect you have a lot of questions,” said a familiar voice.

Brighton drew in a sharp intake of breath. Shelby! Shelby was sure to help her.

But wait... Now she remembered Shelby standing in front of her with their arms raised, proclaiming some kind of... incantation? Their eyes glowing... Had they cast some kind of spell?

“It’s just a simple transfiguration hex,” Shelby explained, as if replying to Brighton’s silent questions. “Well, no - actually it’s an incredibly difficult and convoluted transfiguration hex, the kind that takes decades to master. But I’m a lot older than I look.” She could just about see movement in her peripheral vision - Shelby walking past the chair and moving behind its solid back, out of view again. “Not 27 like my driver’s licence says - more like 207. I look good for my age, don’t I, Bulb?”

Brighton could definitely agree with that. Looking up as far as she could, she could just make out Shelby’s head peering over the back of the chair, smirking down at her.

“Bet you’re wondering where your body went, huh, cutie?” they sniggered. Reaching out, they traced their fingers along the wooden armrests of the chair.

At the same time, Brighton felt her arms being caressed by delicate fingertips, sending electric tingles through her. She gasped at the sensation - and at the realisation that accompanied it.

She hadn’t been removed from her body and attached to the chair. Her body... was the chair! (Now that she thought about it, Shelby’s use of the word ‘transfiguration’ was a big clue to that.)

Shelby’s fingers were now running up the edges of the solid back. Feeling strokes up her sides and her ribs, Brighton wanted to squirm, but she couldn’t, immobilised as she was. “You may have noticed that certain parts of your body are in different places, and that certain other parts are missing,” Shelby continued, their tone mischievous. “There are reasons for that - some of it’s for convenience, some of it’s for... naughtier purposes! And some of it’s because with you in this form, there are parts of you I need, and parts I don’t. You need legs but not feet, arms but not hands... Although, there could be a case for bringing your fingers back,” they chuckled. “Most important, though, is your head. That, I definitely need. With your cute little face, and your tender little tongue...”

Brighton gulped soundlessly. Those words, and their implications, turned her on so much. But how? How could she be aroused if she was a chair?

“And you’ll also have found that even though you’re just furniture now, you still feel human. Your wood-flesh is, if anything, more sensitive than your human skin ever was.” Shelby demonstrated this by running their palm over the back of the chair, which felt to Brighton as though her back was being massaged. “Your head - your face - is the only part of you that doesn’t look wooden, or indeed like part of a chair. You can’t speak or make any sounds any more, because chairs don’t need vocal chords. You don’t have to breathe, but you’ve kept doing it out of habit, which is nice.

“The rest of you - brown varnished wood, reconfigured into the perfect shape for sitting. And I do believe it’s time to test my new chair out...”

Brighton’s eyes widened. Shelby was going to sit on her! She couldn’t help feeling apprehensive at the prospect. How would a human body - even someone as skinny and slight-looking as Shelby - feel on top of her? Would she be able to take their weight, even in this wooden form?

And why, exactly, was the thought of being sat on so thrilling? She didn’t know. She couldn’t explain it. But now that Shelby had mentioned it, Brighton craved being sat on, just like any other chair. She ached for it. What was keeping them? Were they purposely drawing it out, to prolong the anticipation? She was beginning to suspect that was exactly what they were doing...

She heard a belt buckle rattle in the near distance, followed by a soft thud. Then she felt a hand grip each of her arms - armrests - and became aware of a human body descending over her. A second later, an exposed, bare pussy lowered into view in front of her face - but Brighton barely had time to register the sight before she felt Shelby’s full weight, bare ass cheeks on her seat, slender legs on either side of her head.

As Shelby wriggled a little, making herself comfortable, Brighton sighed happily. Somehow, the feeling of them sitting on her was even better than the sight of their slit inches in front of her - although it was an extremely close run thing. She found she could easily take the weight - she felt no strain, just an unexpectedly wonderful pressure bearing down on her. Her legs (she suddenly realised she now had four short stubby wooden legs, replacing the two long ones she’d had as a human) had no difficulty supporting Shelby’s body as well as her own.

Shelby reached down and cupped Brighton’s face in their hands. “I guess you’ve probably figured out why I left you with your head - and why I put it there - huh, sweetie?”

She blushed and bit her lip, unable to do much more than that in response.

Shelby put a hand on the back of Brighton’s head and started to push. To her surprise, she found her head moving forwards slowly, but smoothly - as if her neck was a ship sailing across a lake, rather than being moulded into a wooden seat. It seemed that even though Brighton herself couldn’t move or adjust her new form in any way, Shelby’s magic enabled them to do so with ease. In seconds, her face was pressed right into their pussy, lips meeting lips.

“What are you waiting for, little chair?” Shelby cackled, wrapping their legs around Brighton’s head, laying their arms on her armrests, and leaning against her hard back.

She didn’t need to be told twice. Wrapping her lips around their pussy, she teased her tongue along the entrance. Shelby whimpered loudly in response.

Of all the times Brighton had imagined eating Shelby out, she’d never imagined being turned into a chair while she was doing it. But this bizarre reality was proving even more thrilling, more erotic, than any of her past fantasies. She felt herself growing more and more worked up, almost in sync with the witch currently sitting on her. She breathed harder and harder into Shelby’s pussy, having no trouble doing so despite her mouth and nose being completely obstructed by their flesh. Apparently, Shelby had been telling the truth - she no longer needed to breathe. It was just an automatic response to how horny she was getting.

Funny thing, though - she couldn’t feel her own pussy. All the arousal was pulsating through her chair-body, but there was no release point. Did she even still have it? Or had Shelby dispensed with it, just as they had done with her hands and feet?

“You’ll never age, y’know,” Shelby grunted, as they continued to hump Brighton’s face. “You’ll stay exactly as you are forever. You won’t need to eat, or drink, or excrete... All your mortal life processes have been suspended - removed. You’re not human, not any more. You’re a chair, with the remnants of a human mind. And you’re gonna love it. I’ll make sure of it...”

If Brighton could make a sound, she would’ve let out an ecstatic squeal, as she felt Shelby rub her nipples, rolling them back and forth between her fingertips. How were they doing that? Where even were her nipples, now? Wait, she could still feel Shelby’s arms lying on top of hers, so her hands must be at the end of the armrests... So that was where her nipples were? At the end of the armrests, where her hands should be? In the most convenient possible place for Shelby to pinch and play with them?

Mmmm, fuck yes...

Finally Shelby came, soaking Brighton’s face and seat with their juices. She eagerly licked up as much as she could. Shelby then stood up, leaving Brighton disappointed by the absence of both their pussy in her face and their enjoyable weight pressing down on her chair-body.

Taking hold of the top of Brighton’s head, Shelby began to turn it around. She winced, half-expecting to hear a loud snap as her neck broke - but it never came. Instead, her head rotated ninety degrees to face forwards, just as easily as it had glided along the wooden seat. Now she could see Shelby, still naked from the waist down, standing a few feet in front of her.

“You passed the audition, my good little chair,” Shelby grinned. “You’ll make a fine addition to my collection.” They winked. “Yeah, you’re not the first, by the way...”

Kelsey the lamp, Brighton realised. Not named after her ex after all, then. Talk about a bad breakup...

“I don’t do it very often,” Shelby explained. “I mean, if I abducted all the gorgeous local women, someone would notice eventually, no matter how many amnesia spells I cast. But I can get away with nabbing one or two every decade or so. It took a century and a half for me to perfect the hexes, so I’ve only just started to build up my collection.”

They darted over to the white wool couch in the centre of their living room. With a rustle, they plunged their hands into the cushions - not behind them, but seemingly right into the middle of them, where Brighton knew for a fact there was no hole or gap to reach inside - and pulled out two blonde heads, with long flowing hair cascading over the surrounding cushions. Just as Brighton had been a moment ago, the heads were facing inwards, staring at the back of the chair, so she couldn’t see their faces.

“Lauren and Julia. Couple of twins I met in Florida in the 90s. When they each found out I was dating the other, I triggered the magic in the little keepsakes I’d given them.” They sniggered. “Seemed like the fastest way out of the argument!”

Brighton stared at the two girls trapped inside the broad chair in astonishment, feeling her arousal flare once again, as she remembered how many times she herself had sat upon the comfy furniture without knowing it was in fact a pair of sisters transformed and merged together.

“Oh, and this?” Shelby skipped over to a leather armchair on the opposite side of the room, once again impossibly reaching into the seat and yanking out a human head - this one adorned with dark brown hair, and facing inwards just like Lauren and Julia. “This is India Cushing - a girl I seduced in Houston in the 60s. Saved her from being married off to some boring man, and gave her the gift of being sat on by me for the next sixty years. She shows me how grateful she is every time I use her - just like you just did.” They winked at Brighton, who blushed.

Shelby stood between India the armchair and the twin couch. “This is Brighton, girls - the newest addition to my collection. Make her feel welcome!”

Brighton heard the wet smacking of lips as the three chairs pointlessly tried to speak and greet her just as their owner had instructed. Shelby ran one hand along India’s back, and the other along the couch’s armrest. “And just like you, they feel everything,” they purred, a naughty smile on their lips. “Every... little... touch. In fact, because the two of them are blended together, wherever I touch the couch, both Lauren and Julia feel it. Such an exciting thought, huh?”

Brighton had to agree. If she could move, she’d be shaking like a leaf.

Ambling back across the room, Shelby reached down to Brighton’s face, mercilessly tickling her nose. She scrunched up her face, mouth agape in a soundless squeal. Then their fingers moved off her face and danced along her seat, up her armrests, along her back.

The sensation of being tickled while in the form of an inanimate object was simply indescribable, even if Brighton were capable of verbally describing it. Unable to get away, unable to cry out, unable to make even the tiniest wriggle or quiver, all she could do was squeeze her eyes tight shut and open her mouth wide, screaming with silent laughter as she tried to endure the sensations.

Shelby eventually relented, sitting on the floor again with one elbow propped up on Brighton’s seat. “Don’t worry about your family, by the way,” they said casually. “I’ll cast a spell on them, so they won’t worry about you - they won’t even remember you.”

Brighton hadn’t even considered how her family would react to her being turned into furniture. She’d been so wrapped up in the here and now, so caught in the novelty of being a chair, she hadn’t thought about the many hints Shelby had given that this was not going to be a temporary thing. She was a chair now, for good. She was Shelby’s chair. Their property, just like India, and Lauren, and Julia, and Kelsey. And they weren’t ever going to turn her back to normal.

She found she didn’t mind very much. If being a chair felt this amazing, she was perfectly happy to stay this way. And at least her new owner was the crush she’d lusted after for the past four years. True, she felt a pang of sadness for her family, but that was slightly mitigated now she knew that they would forget she ever existed. She might miss them, but at least they wouldn’t miss her.

“Actually, I might invite them over some day soon,” Shelby mused. “It’s been a while since we had tea. Maybe I’ll even let them sit on you...”

Brighton raised her eyebrows. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that! Of course, she wouldn’t mind being sat on, but the idea of her head being between the legs of one of her parents, or her brother or sister - that felt icky.

This seemed to occur to Shelby too. “Of course, I’ll have to do something about this,” they remarked, gesturing to Brighton’s head. “But don’t worry, that’s easy - I can just do the same thing I do with the other girls...”

Grabbing her by the face, their palm covering her mouth and nose, they swivelled her head back around to face her back. Then they pressed down on the top of her head - and Brighton felt herself sinking. Her neck was being swallowed up by the wood of the seat. Then her chin met the seat - and melted right into it, passing inside it as if it was being pulled into quicksand.

Shelby removed their hand from the top of Brighton’s head, but she continued to sink, her seat enveloping her. As her mouth passed inside the wood, she looked up to see Shelby standing up once again and peering down at her from behind the chair.

“I can’t imagine how strange this must feel,” they chuckled, as her nose entered the seat. “But I’m sure you’ll find a way to enjoy it...”

As her eyes neared the seat, she closed them. She felt herself sink inside, until finally her entire head had been engulfed. She’d wondered if the seat were even thick enough to contain her entire head - it certainly didn’t feel like it - but she supposed that anything was possible with magic involved. As it was, her head’s physical existence now felt as nebulous and ill-defined as the rest of her human body - as if it had dissolved upon entering the seat, distributing its constituent parts across the chair. She still had eyes and a mouth, but she couldn’t open them, and she had no idea if they were still close to each other, or her nose. They were all just part of the furniture now, ensconced within the wood.

Weirdly, she could still hear Shelby speaking. That indicated that her ears were still somewhere on the outside of her chair-body.

“See? That’s a special feature I included, in case I have company coming over,” they explained. “Or just, if I feel like sitting properly and not getting eaten out.” As if to demonstrate, Shelby sat on Brighton again, crossing their legs. She felt every movement they made. She felt the pressure of their bare ass cheeks on her seat, warm skin against her wood-flesh. She felt their glistening pussy drooling on her. She felt their arms lie gently on her armrests. Best of all, she felt their fingers toying with her nipples again.

“You must be so damn horny, sweetie,” Shelby teased. “I mean, the very nature of the enchantment means you’ll be permanently turned on now that you’re a chair - although it’ll increase a lot when I sit on you, or when I play with you, as I’m sure you’ve noticed! A shame you’ll never get to release it. Sorry I took away your pussy, but I can’t have my furniture leaking...”

The arousal was, indeed, immense - and it was only amplified by the fact that she couldn’t express it at all. No matter how horny she got, she remained a simple, static chair. She couldn’t even express how she felt through facial expressions any more, because she didn’t have a face right now.

Eventually Shelby stood up again. The next second Brighton felt them take hold of something in the middle of her seat - it felt like a few strands of her hair, still protruding from the wood while the rest of her head had been consumed. They gave the hair a tug, and slowly but surely Brighton’s head emerged again, wide-eyed with awe and ecstasy. She noticed that it had gotten pretty dark - afternoon had given way to evening at some point, though she wasn’t sure when. She was losing track of time completely.

But that was fine. Chairs didn’t need to know what time it was. There were only two times that mattered to her - the time when she was being sat on, and the time when she wasn’t. She knew which she preferred.

“I’m going out,” Shelby told her. They were standing in front of the chair now, behind Brighton’s head, where she couldn’t see them. “Might be back late - I’m taking the stuff I didn’t sell back to my storage locker, and then I’m going to the club, to see if I can find any hot chicks to work my magic on. You don’t need to sleep, but feel free to get some shut-eye, just to pass the hours. Or you can have a nice chat with your new friends!” They sniggered. “Or just revel in your new form, and how it feels. Though you’ll have plenty of time to get used to it!”

Brighton heard them walk away. A few minutes later, she heard the front door slam, as the two-hundred-year-old witch left four immobile, mute, frustrated and needy, but very happy chair-girls in the dark, quiet living room.