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Originally Posted by iii
Megan and I had been college roommates for three years straight, and our senior year wasn't going to be any different. But our old landlord decided he wanted to "improve" his real estate, and he made it perfectly clear he expected us to either pay condo-level rent or find a new place.
So we found a new place.
Fortunately for us, our apartment search seemed to be over almost as soon as it started. Right out of the gate, we found a large two-story house for rent. It was old and a little worn down, and it looked a little creepy -- but it was just off of campus, and the price was right. That said, the renter had seemed a little... cagey on the phone. She said that she couldn't come show us the place herself -- "I can't go back in there," she had said, all mysterious like -- but she did say that we could let ourselves in and look around.
So that's just what the two of us did.
"Wow, look at these light fixtures!" Meg called from the other room. "This place must be from the fifties."
"I'll be right there," I called back, stepping into the kitchen. "I heard that this was once an old sorority house, so you might be right."
"Well," Megan shouted back, taking on that matter-of-fact tone she loved to employ, "I heard that a mad scientist used to live here, and she did all sorts of experiments on hapless young men."
"A female mad scientist, in the fifties, 'playing' with young men? Like hell, Megs. What sort of late-night scifi special were you watching?"
"Hey, missy, I'm just repeating what I read on the... hey, what's this? Someone left out -- oh, crap!"
There was a loud clattering noise from the living room, and I rushed to check on Megan. When I got there, everything looked fine -- she had tripped over a can of blue paint and fallen right on her butt, getting splattered in the process -- and judging from her blush, only Meg's ego was harmed. "Little Miss Clumsy much?" I smirked.
She glared back, faux-huffing. "I tripped over this paint can when I walked in here! Someone left all this paint out, open and everything. It's not my fault!"
"Oh, I'm just teasing you. Come on, let's try to get you cleaned up, and get this paint off before it dries."
Megan pulled herself up, glancing around. Her face was flushed and her eyes a little glazed; she must have been a little more embarrassed or a little more hurt than she first let on. "Just look at this mess," she said. "Fuck!"
"Meg!" I said, jokingly admonishing the goody-two-shoes. "Cursing isn't like you at all!"
"Oh, shut up," she snapped back. She didn't look at me, though, just at the paint splattered all over her. "I just need to get this shirt off of me and I'll be fine."
"The shirts ruined, idiot. Come on."
She kept muttering, still ignoring me. "I don't... uuuuhhhh, I don't feel so good," she groaned, slowly rubbing the paint on her shirt. "I just... need to get... this paint off..."
This she let out what can only be described as a sexual moan, low and throaty. If I didn't know better, I'd think she was turned on. "Meg, come on now..."
"This paint..." she murmured back, still out of it. She wasn't just rubbing the paint any more... she was beginning to vigorously knead her breasts through the soaked material. "I just need... need it to... it's... all over..."
In one fast and totally unexpected motion, she tore the ruined garment completely off. But the moaning and the rubbing didn't stop -- if anything, they intensified. Her hands slipped across her skin, spreading the blue over her breasts, her stomach -- sometimes a hand even slipped into her pants. It's like she wanted to get paint everywhere. It was hard for me to accept, but it looked like my quiet and reserved roommate was... actively feeling herself up. Her nipples were hard in the air, and it was increasingly clear her flush was no longer one of embarrassment. And the way she was mauling her own breasts...
"Okay Meg," I said, putting a little force into my voice. "That's enough. Let's get out of here. Come on."
"Cum," she giggled, and I could tell which homonym she was using. "I could use some of that, hehehe." She started to pull off her pants, rubbing paint across more and more of her body. "Oh fuck yes, just like that," she moaned, behaving so blatantly sexual that I was well and truly uncomfortable.
"Megan, I don't know what's gotten into you," I said, genuinely worried. "Let's just get you home--"
"But don't you see? We are home, roomie," she giggled, lust-filled eyes starring back at me. "We just need to fix It--" and somehow I knew "It" was capitalized "-- up a little." She giggled again. "And if we fix It, It will fix us, too. You'll see."
Still smiling, she backed against the wall, arms spread wide. And then she started to... change.
I couldn't tell at first, because the paint began to just... flow across her. The blue of the wall seemed to merge with the blue on her skin, coating her completely. Then it started to shine, like it was becoming wetter. It took me a moment to realize that wasn't the case -- it was firming up, becoming some sort of shiny second skin.
Megan moaned, the sluttiest, horniest moan I had ever heard in real life, the sort normally reserved for hardcore porn. "Oh, yyyyyyeeeeessssss," she continued. "The House, I can feel it... it wants me." She licked her swelling lips, sex-filled eyes locked on to mine. "It wants both of us, sweetheart. Just give me a moment, and I'll -- we'll -- show you what we--" She interrupted herself with another animalistic noise.
I ignored her grunts long enough to notice that her brown hair was beginning to lighten, turning a bleached blond. The old Megan would never have done something so overtly slutty, but it looked appropriate on the mewling sex fiend taking shape in front of me: flaring hips and growing breasts pushed her figure into an hour-glass shape, while the paint had finally congealed into a tight, latex suit.
Despite my fear and my horror, I realized that my roommate had become super hot. Not that I swung like that at all, but...
But She deserves it, doesn't She? Foreign thoughts intruded into my head. She is a Goddess, deserving of worship.
"You heard It just now, didn't you?" If I hadn't seen Megan change, I wouldn't believe it was her talking to me; even her voice sounded different. Sexual. More powerful. "It was the House. It wants us. It needs us, roomie. Me, as it's Avatar..." Her mouth drew back in a wicked smirk. "And you, as its first slave."
Dooooo it. Use your tongue. Worship Her.
I stepped backwards, afraid of the dark, sexual tone in this new and strange woman's voice... and of the dirty thoughts they're so right polluting my mind. "I don't know what's wrong with you," I stammered, "but we're going to fix this, Megan. Please, just --"
"Do not address me as Megan, worm," the once-Megan snarled. "Until you have earned the right, I am only Mistress to you."
Then she took a step towards me.
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10-18-2011
Hybrid Mode
