(why do women notch their lipstick cases, no one is telling me.)
(The same reason men "notch their bedposts". I currently have 30...ish notches on my case.)
I smile and give the woman a thankful wave. Not wanting to insult her, I don't hesitate to scoop up the candy and pop one in my mouth. I hope the other piece to my new friend.
"She'd make a badass Mord Sith" I say laughing.
Resisting the urge to flash them a middle finger, I smile smugly at the girls and head back towards the poker game. I dont know if I'll play, this costume has a lot of pieces to it and isn't the easiest to get in and out of.
(I wouldn't know. I never notched my bedpost because for a while it was just my gf/fiancee/wife. Anyone else I slept with wasn't wholly my idea. So I couldn't count them. Not that I would be that kind of man who has to measure his masculine worth by the number of women he sleeps with. I am secure in my manhood. If women want to do that, more power to them.)
The old woman rejoined her game, looking over at you gives you and your friend a mischievous smile. The candy tastes smooth and sweet, but has a tinge of herbal flavor. Your new friend takes and eats it. Both candies do not take long to disappear, and soon its starting to get really warm in the room, despite the cool air conditioning kicking in.
The aches and pains of that costume are fading, as the pain is turning pleasurable, more than it already was. Your friend is starting to squirm in her seat, like she has ants in the skirt she is wearing. Both of your visions are starting to haze, but not in a terrible, bad way.
Something deep inside you and her breaks. Its like the core of your womanhood has been kicked into maximum overdrive, and you start to feel younger. Actually....
Your friend seems to be de-aging, not that she was too old to begin with, she is now a freckled freshman in college, and you start to notice the changes in yourself. The tight leather becomes looser, your body is slimming down to where it was when you left your home at nineteen. You look over at the table with the old people playing strip poker, but there are no longer wrinkly old people. No, there is a table of hollywood knockouts and bombshells. The young woman you thought was the old woman wins the final hand of the game, and she takes the last of the garments from them and then the cocks of the two buff caretakers in her hands. She laughs loudly, her voice young and sweet, as she feels the men grow in her hands. Her gray hair is now the darkest black, she is almost the epitome of what a woman is, sort of.
Your armor is losing the precious fight to stay on, the suit is getting looser, and your new friend cant stand up, as she was a tad full figured, not overweight by any means, just a little fuller than skinny, but now she is almost a scrawny bean pole, with nice breasts. So standing up would leave her naked from the tummy down.
The worst of this change is that good old itch, the match strike in the pit of your tummy, one that awaits the kindling to start that inferno. You are obviously wet and now hornier than you have ever been.
Three choices depending on how you want this to play out:
Sit there and hope it goes away (it probably wont.)
Attack your red faced flushing and blushing friend or anyone within reach to scratch that itch. (might be a temp cure for your condition, but it may or may not lead to other things.)
Go to the Old/young woman and try to figure out what she did to you and why.