Connie's Weed Pt. 03

Marge glanced at Connie from the corner of her eyes while she cocked her eyebrow and tilted the bottle further to her pouted lips. Connie didn't dare to move or struggle. She could see the glitter of the liquid shining on Marge's mouth as the juice inched closer to the spout.

"Marge, please, don't! It's the very last! If you drink it all, I — I can't control it any more! I don't know what'll happen — if you want your, uh, tiny twat back, then, then, don't — oh please, Marge! No! Gods, no!"

The raven-haired girl suddenly lowered the bottle and laughed. She let go of Connie's wrist and screwed the cap back on.

"Nah, was just messing with you. No juice today. You can leave my pussy well alone, I like it the way it is now! Did you see how it opened up? I can make it gape and I can make it nice and tight, it's all muscles in there! It's great! I can shove my own fist in there until I squirt, and next moment, I can make myself cum with just a pair of grapes! It rocks!

"And you didn't really think I wanted to grow a four-pack of boobs again, eh? Or were you afraid it would turn me into some kind of Boobzilla and I'd go Tokyo on the city or what? Hey, gimme a little credit."

Marge pouted with a smile before she tossed the flask back at Connie, who fumbled it from mid-air and clutched it with both hands, breathing heavily.

"Gods, Marge, don't joke about that! I'm keeping this rest safe because, if anything weird starts to happen with you, this might be my only hope of fixing it!"

"Pfffft, yeah, weird. Haven't we used up our quota of weird for the rest of our lives?" Marge snorted and straightened her clothes. Her next question came right out of left field and stumped Connie for a few seconds.

"Hey, you've got any plans for Halloween next week?"

Connie bit her lower lip. "What? Why? Uh, no, not really. I thought I'd just watch some TV and —"

"No way! Hey, I owe you for fixing my life. So I'm gonna cook up a surprise for my favorite little witch! Okay, so, Halloween, at the diner, around seven, and then we'll see what comes up." She pointed at the flask in Connie's hands. "And don't forget to bring our little secret."

Uh-oh. Connie grew pale. "Marge, I'm never going to use that stuff ever again."

"Suuuure. That's why you haven't poured it down the sink and you're always carrying it around with you, eh? Oh, just bring it along and listen to my idea. Still need to work out a few things, but I know, this time you'll like it. I promise, it's not about me. — Damn, look at the time. Gotta run." She leaned in and kissed Connie smack dab on the mouth until the tall blonde felt dizzy.

The swing door clanked, and Connie was alone again. She slumped against the wall and slowly sagged down until she sat on her haunches, clutching the half-empty flask and trembling with residual adrenalin.

I only wanted to make sure I wasn't imagining those berries! Oh please, will this ever end?

Her stomach cramped. She dragged herself to the nearest stall and threw up.

~~~

To Be Concluded in Connie's Weed, Part 4: Revenge Blown Out Of Proportion

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