Celia places the baggie both you and Heather are in on the dash of her car. She leans out the open door, taking several long drags off her cigarette. Clearly, being deprived that short while had left her wanting. Luckily, she doesn’t seem to be the type just to smoke inside. Why that might be, you aren't entirely sure. But you observe a severe lack of the usual yellow-tinted buildup you often saw from friends who smoke inside their cars. Though, the fixer-upper does have a very distinct smell of weed. It claws at your nose, ignoring the thin plastic completely.
The observation leaves you guessing as to the model of the car itself. You'd never been much of a car guy, but based on the almost grungy aged interior, you estimate it's probably a twenty-ten. Possibly older. The cigarette reaching its end, Celia flicks it to the side with a satisfied look on her face. She shuts the door and puts in her key, the engine humming to life. But before she starts to drive, the young witch looks at both of you, vague amusement cracking across her face.
“Been a hot minute since Mom let me have anybody over!” She says sarcastically.
You arrive home, finding it messy as always. Cans and clothing litter the ground, primarily panties. You rarely go out anymore, so forgoing pants and a bra often saves you time that would be spent doing extra laundry. Probably should clean those up sooner rather than later, though. But it can wait till after you've had some fun with your guests. You place the baggie down on your coffee table, pushing the bong out of the way and swiftly draping your jacket across the back of the sofa. Lastly, it's time to kick off your boots. With only the tips of your toes, you slip the heavy footwear off one at a time before kicking them across the room at random. With that taken care of, it’s time to shift attention toward your sister's two tiny mistakes.
You scrutinize them with care, and it's just as you'd initially thought. The girl is more than double his height. No doubt about it, this is a classic case of recast via misfire. It's really not all that complex to solve. The hard part would be sorting through whatever had so thoroughly attached itself to the smallest one's body. But that would have to wait. You're frankly not feeling up to pouring through mom's dusty books right now.
With a stretch, you let yourself fall back onto the couch with a pomf of the plush cushion, immediately eyeing the bong you’d left packed full of the weed. Obviously, you’d bummed it off Courtney, that fat bitch. Probably the only human you’d seen for a few months. Until today, that is. Your socialization threshold had tripled the last twenty-four hours, taking charge of two little lives.
You try and think, both wanting to clear your head and relax all at the same time. Your attention is drawn to the bong, and its sleek blown glass exterior. It would be irresponsible to get high right now. But, when had you ever been the responsible one? That was Lexy. Going to school, getting a degree. Miss goody two shoes. You love her, but she also makes you downright sick.
Taking the bag, you tip it onto the stained wooden surface and watch as a bug and tic tac slide out in a mess of limbs. You can't help but snort, seeing how discombobulated they are. It’s borderline hilarious to see their quick and jerky movements acted out, the two of them fighting to their feet only to fall back on their butts as your knee gently bumps the table. Normies are so sad, just at the complete mercy of magic.
Reaching over to the table's far side, you grab a lighter, holding it up to the packed bong. Yeah, fuck it. One big hit, just to help you unwind a little.
Shick, Shick, Shick
Brbrbrbrbrurble
Prrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
The bong gurgles its concoction of rank water before you pull the chamber and let the relief flood into your lungs. The response to your senses is almost immediate, a cool fog lazing across your overstimulated brain. You lay back, melting into the sofa before letting droopy eyes fall across your house guests.
A strong riptide of bubbles roars through the bong. You and Heather share similar looks of disgust between each other, her increased size doing very little to squelch the growing sense of comradery between you.
Trying your best to ignore the whirlpool of cloudy water taking place nearby, you look idly around Celia's abode. It's pretty dingy, not necessarily dirty, but lacks any organization. Old shirts and panties litter the floor, while books and an assortment of weed-friendly paraphernalia adorn the coffee table you and Heather are stuck twiddling your thumbs on. There really wasn’t anywhere to go. Like it or not, you’re stuck up here. Finishing her aforementioned ‘hit,’ Celia takes to scrolling through her phone, her mouth hanging open in a stoned stupor.
With your captor's activity slowing, you end up glancing at Heather. She’s still entirely naked, and seemingly chilly if her nipples are any indication. The young college diva clenches her firsts tightly, seething with a rage hotter than you thought possible in a situation like this. Truthfully, it's not something you expected to see. Not even an hour ago, she'd been beside herself. Maybe the blatant disrespect had struck some nerve in her, buried right beneath the surface. Which makes the next part all the more difficult. You know exactly what she's about to do.
"Heather, don't do this…." You caution, seeing the look she’s giving an oblivious Celia.
"No, Chris, this is fucked up! She can’t just treat us like… this!" She declares passionately, gesturing to your naked bodies. The irony isn't lost on you, having been pressed so closely against her own rear last night. Did she not see the blatant double standard here?
Only now, looking at Heather's fit body, do you realize she’s naked. Something impossible to miss but hadn’t registered in your usually one-track mind. It's pretty messed up that you'd gotten so used to running around in your birthday suit. What's stranger is not connecting the dots while a beautiful girl like Heather is in full view. Gone is any urge you once had to ogle the opposite sex. The world seemed so much more complex than when you'd first proposed this silly game.
Ultimately, speaking up is meaningless as Heather decides to take matters into her own hands, quite literally. She cups both palms around her mouth and shouts louder than you've ever heard her yell before. "Hey, you stupid thot! Where do you get off! Are you listening to me? Get off you’re fucking phone and fix us!" She continues, assaulting her with several colorful comments. "You gross bitch! What gives you the right to treat us this way?" To the little lady's dismay, it takes several seconds for Celia to acknowledge her vulgar speech, first laying the phone down on the couch beside her.
"You don't have to yell. I can hear you perfectly fine." Celia looks down at her, a bored expression already settled across her face. Heather takes a step back, confused, as Celia moves to explain. "Yeah, I synced us up before we even left. Your boyfriend over there still can't be touched by the coven spells. Anyway, what was that last one? Smelly bitch?" She says, calm anger rising past her baked stupor.
Heather backpedals but can't manage more than a series of ‘um's’ and ‘ah's.’ Celia leans in closer, looking down with malice you can feel burning off her. She purses her lips and lets a glob fall, smashing into the small girl and enveloping her in a sickly goo. It happens so fast there isn’t any time for her to dodge it. It embeds itself deep into her hair like a foul cement, the stink of cigarettes and weed drifting upwind towards your offended nostrils. Her fury is gone instantly, snuffed out by chemically imbued saliva. She whimpers, folding to her knees as Celia snickers.
"Listen here, you preppy slut: I'm above you, better than you. But hey, I'm a nice girl. Cut the BS, and I won't turn you into a housefly." The whole exchange is frankly a living nightmare. Despite being your only savior, Celia might be your very undoing. Ignoring Heather's cries, she leans in from above you, her shadow blocking the dim living room light.
"You're the one I'm interested in," Celia speaks almost monotone, but her gray tone hints at curiosity. Two black fingernails come down from high above, making you flinch at their sudden entrance. She walks them around you, circling you like a shark might as they prepare to kill themselves a tasty meal. What could this unhinged psycho possibly want out of you?
"So, do boys… like girls like me?" She asks genuinely before realizing she wouldn't get an answer. "Right, you're a speck." She sighs, momentarily closing her eyes in contemplation. Or perhaps, remembrance. When she opens them back up, there’s a glint in them you can’t quite place. Some sort of idea and ambition had been sparked entirely anew within her. You can’t find the words, not that it would do you much good anyway. Her stare bores holes straight through you, causing every joint to lock. Why are those eyes of hers so unnerving? You shift your attention over to Heather but only see her staring at Celia and shivering in place as the gooey coating rapidly dries.
Celia finally breaks contact with your eyes, grabbing the bong and lighting it up again with rehearsed motions. This time, the hit looks far more potent, and you watch as she holds it in with full cheeks. She lets it sit in her mouth for a few seconds, deciding to lean forward and release the cloud across the two of you. You aren’t ready for it, and neither is Heather, both of you coughing relentlessly as a sea of smog floods across the table. Time slows down, and the edges of your vision start to feel hazy. You hadn’t used weed since early high school, and you figure tolerance is probably relatively low, maybe non-existent.
Fuck. You feel decidedly weird, but suddenly a good chunk of the anxiety is gone. Everything seems so mellow now like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. The worry isn’t gone, but it’s infinitely more manageable. Mouth hanging open in a daze, you look at the grungy goddess. She’s smirking, getting more comfortable as she rips her bra from underneath her shirt in a single swift motion.
“Way better,” She says, tossing it toward the floor like so many other articles of clothing. One more piece added to the untamable mountain of chaos congregating on the ground. She sits back, momentarily lost in her high. Still not looking directly at you, she starts talking to seemingly no one in particular.
“Back in high school, I messed around with shrinking spells. A few hexes too.” A smile forms across her lips, remembering old times gone. But the cadence of her voice grows serious, “Senior year, when my magic training was almost done, I was dating this guy. Sort of a tool, into that whole goth girl gf bullshit.” She rambles on, “We fucked like crazy, though. It was nice, but eventually, he wanted to no-life some video game more than spend time with me.” She rolls her eyes, finally choosing to look at the two of you. Though, you can’t help but feel like she has you zeroed.
“Like, I get I’m not the conventional blonde cheerleader, but I look good, you know? I deserved more than that.” She gets angrier, clearly not over the slight inflicted years ago. Even if you don’t like where this story is heading, you have to admit, she looks pretty good. Spitting image of your friend, in fact. Minus the whole grungy look she has going on. Lexy has far more pinks at her disposal, while Celia seems borderline allergic. Still, it's uncanny, really.
“Sorry, the weed makes me ramble a bit. Anyway, after fucking ignoring me all week, he texts me like, ‘omg babe, I want you to swallow me!’ you know, sort of implying his stupid dick.” She rolls her eyes, the anecdote making the intention of this little story all the more apparent.“So, I made him probably about your size,” She points a black fingernail toward you, “Then I delivered!” She smiles matter of factly, sending chills straight through your body. Everything about this story makes you feel sick, even with the weed taking an edge off your worries.
“And like, obviously, I loaded him up with PH resistant spells and stuff. Honestly, I think the only thing that could have killed him is a boot at that point.” She muses idly, “But, I didn’t let him out after either. He took the scenic route.” Celia traces her stomach, moving even further downwards over her solid black tight-fit material. “Yeah, he wasn’t happy. Never even spoke to me again.” She bursts out laughing, much to your extreme discomfort. This lady is downright unbalanced.
"I guess my whole point is, I found the whole thing way hot. Like, I spent most of the time in my room. I thought about what he was going in there, picturing how hellish my body probably was for him…" She zones out wistfully for a short moment, snapping back with a jolt.
"Oh, oh my gosh. I just got an idea! You're already tiny enough too!" Her brows shoot up in excitement, “Hey, how about you do this for me? I'm already doing you a big solid by getting that icky magic mambo jumbo off you! The least you could do is something in return for all the hard work I'll be doing." You take a feeble step back, not intending to meet your ultimate fate in some girl you barely knew. The whole idea is batshit, and even in her compromised state, you're blown away she even proposed it.
"Though, I can't really cast those same spells. I don't think they stick with the stink of the Other Side all over you." Celia taps her own chin inquisitively.
“T-then l-let me. I can d-do it.” Heather pipes up, startling you. "Heather…" You start, but she silences you with a shaky hand. "You can do whatever you want to me."
She smiles, the initiative surprising even her. “That would be all nice and good, but I don’t want you girly. I want him.” Celia blushes, looking down at you. Clearly, her mind was already made up. Asking had only been a mere courtesy.
"I'm pretty sure I have some antacids around here somewhere. I can totally take a few and just throw you back up after I finish. Trust me, my gag reflex is strong." She rifles through some clutter by her feet and pops open a plastic container, downing two chalky tablets with ease, crunching them apart with scary amounts of force. You'd always known how crazy dense teeth were, but seeing their ferocity in action at this scale, is an experience in itself.
She quickly swallows the tablets, grinding them into powder in a matter of seconds. Like earlier, you can smell the stink of weed coming off her breath, though it's infinitely stronger now. She doesn't waste any more time either, picking you up roughly with two hands and bringing you to her rose-red face.
"Hey, so, I know I'm not really giving you a choice in this, but I still really appreciate it. I swear I've thought about doing this almost monthly since that whole thing happened." She does seem legitimately thankful, though it's little consolation for what she's preparing to inflict. "I doubt you're going to be all that into it, but if you want to keep the sexy rolling I'll give you permission to cum in my stomach." She says with a cutesy wink before giving your body a full lick. Which, admittedly, takes a nonexistent amount of effort at your dismal size.
"Oh god." You hear Heather gasp faintly from behind you as Celia raises your petrified form closer to her mouth. There's a moment of hesitation on her part, before you abruptly plunge into a hot box of potent THC. You tumble end over end, pushed inside by only an index finger. It is drier than expected but still sweltering. You fumble blindly until a dexterous tongue finds you, corralling you exactly where it feels you should be. The outside world bleeds away, turning quickly into a distant memory. At the moment, Celia's mouth is your world and universe; everything else ceases to be. Noises of sloshing and the general shifting of saliva overtake your hearing completely; the red muscle is serving as your ground, deciding it's time to get started. You're pinned to the slick roof of her mouth, spongy yet somehow solid.
The organ rolls across your body, stroking your cock eagerly, letting the tip slide across your balls and over your butt. The sensation is incredible, unbeatable to any other. But, Lexy’s sister doesn't linger long, saliva already pooling in anticipation for what's to come.
Two distinct noises sound out as you're thrown to the back of the throat, into a deep hole of black.
Guuuulp
Gl'uuuck
Down you go, squeezed by tight muscles. You feel slimy as thin mucus layers attach themselves to your sides, ribbons of goop creating webbing from you to the walls of Celia’s esophagus. You can't hear anything besides the natural noises of her body, the very processes giving her life. It's beyond crazy to think about actually nourishing them, supplying her with the energy to make those stark and almost alien sounds.
In a way, you're glad she blew that smoke, regardless of the initial discomfort. Being so high makes what could have been a heart-pounding situation more interesting than outright scary. Instead, you feel attuned to her body, introspectively thinking about each step of this bizarre journey into Celia's inner workings.
You come out of the throat abruptly, splashing into a sea of chalky acid and slopping mucus, its intensity lessened by the very chalky substance that pervades your skin. It's thick, splashing against you in gentle but dense waves. Abruptly, a cacophony of bodily noises hits you, the outside sounds veiled beyond recognition by the interior of Celia’s body. Sight is nonexistent here, the darkness more complete than any you've witnessed.
You feel vile, gross, disgusting. Your mind throws out any word that can help convey the sticky feeling of sickness you’re caught up in. However, in a way, you also feel closer to her. Like you are intimately involved with the girl you’re inside. There’s occasional jostling, likely brought on by your host's movements, but it's almost tranquil otherwise.
Oh fuck, you actually did it! You swallowed him! So confidently too! Ugh, you can already feel the heat just thinking about him in there. A part of you wonders if someone would pay for something like that. Of course, it's not feasible. But, a girl can dream!
You stretch and stick a hand down between the couch's cushions, looking for that familiar self-help tool. You see the disheveled brat staring up at you with hate in her eyes. Her pretty and proper hair starting to dry in places that look outright funny. “Oh chill,” You say, annoyed she’s giving you this high and mighty treatment. “I deserve some R&R sometimes, alright?”
“Aha!” You declare, pulling out a purple vibrator triumphantly. Ol’ reliable. A generically purple dildo with a lovely clit tickler on the top. Exactly what you need! Slipping your pants down to your legs, you get to work. The high makes every feeling deeper, and the idea that he’s inside you is strangely erotic in its own right. It's a feeling you don’t totally care to understand, but the outcome is always the same: some of the best orgasms of your life.