How Porn Broke Into Tamara Divine Ch. 04

"Damn... fuck, that's... unbelievable... Tammy, please, I need to... I need..."

"Yes?" Tamara asked innocently.

"Let me... let me touch my... let me touch myself... I need to cum...."

Tamara lurched forward, pushing a surprised Emily back onto the arm of the couch. She held her finger up to Emily's mouth and let her lick it clean, and then used it to slowly trace a meandering line from her mouth to her pussy. Every inch of skin Tamara touched lit up with sexual pleasure, and a rippling wave of arousal trailed the finger all the way down to its target: Emily's pussy. And when Tamara's fingers entered Emily, she came so hard she nearly passed out. But, she managed not to scream. Keeping that scream inside took all of her strength, but she didn't want to chance waking up Anita.

"This is our little secret, Emily," Tamara whispered to the panting, recovering girl. "You can't tell anyone, ever. Now, I'm going to bed. Why don't you cover Anita back up, and join me. Oh, and you can touch yourself again." Tamara got up and was going to go straight to her room, but decided to watch Emily finger herself as she made her way to the recliner where Anita lay masturbating. It was such an amusing and erotic sight that Tamara let one of her own fingers stir her own sex.

Emily awkwardly threw the blanket over Anita with her free hand and scurried back to Tamara, kissing her all the way to the bedroom. Emily came when they finally got into the room—thanks to Tamara's well–placed and surprisingly slippery finger gently probing about one knuckle deep in her anus. To both girls, the rest of the night was something of a blur. A nice, slightly drunk, insanely erotic blur. At some point, Tamara's toys were brought out and lubed. And by the time they passed out, they weren't sure there was any sex act known to mankind (or womankind) that as deprived and sexually uncontrolled as what they'd just experienced. Even so, they knew that if they only had the energy, they would do it all night long.

The trio spent much of Sunday cruising around town and shopping, once Anita's hangover faded. She was at a loss to explain how she fell asleep on the chair in the living room, but she seemed thankful that someone covered her up. Later that evening, Emily got a call. Her friends who were in St. Louis had decided to leave earlier th an expected and would pick her up Tuesday morning, cutting her visit one night shorter than she had wanted.

All three ladies were pretty worn out that night and Emily was clearly more tired than Tamara and Anita, so when Emily lay down on the couch, Tamara told her to get some sleep—she'd need it for the day ahead. She had to get a card signed by four professors, after all. But, Tamara did promise to give her a goodbye present she'd never forget Monday night. And judging by the look on Emily's face as her friends (who arrived only two hours after she and Tamara had finally concluded their night–long sex marathon) picked her up to take her back home to Chicago, Tamara figured that she'd made good on her promise.

*****

"Fucking tax day," moaned Tamara when she saw the mass of people standing in line in front of the large (and until tax season, mostly empty) building that served as Jeff's photo studio. Three tax firms had set up temporary offices to assist the good people of central Illinois in the tricky preparation of taxes that involved farm income and deductions for things that would make an auditor's head hurt.

This, of course, meant that Tamara had to weave her way through lines just to get in the door. It didn't matter to most of the people in the lines that she wasn't going into the building for taxes. Some of them were holding brief cases (and even shoe boxes) full of receipts and forms and had been waiting for an hour, and they weren't about to let a large–chested woman with raven black hair and a perfect face through the line ahead of them. All were equal on this day. Beautiful, ugly, thin, fat, rich, poor, executives, and farmers—it didn't matter to Uncle Sam.

Tamara actually heard one woman in her late 40's or early 50's near the door say to her apparent husband, "Big–Tit Black Hair Barbie can just wait with the rest of us." That remark dashed away the last of Tamara's patience, and she decided that in order to get inside the building before next tax day, she'd have to take matters into her own hands. Lightly and discretely touching the woman's neck, she waited for her victim to melt with what had to be more arousal than she'd felt for 20 years.

The woman's nipples popped visibly beneath her top, and when she finally started to tremble a little, Tamara whispered to her, "Please concentrate on getting your husband to fuck your brains out three times a week, and move out of my way. Oh, and I hear he likes blow jobs first thing in the morning... every morning. Wake him up with them every day you can." Tamara then broke contact, and the older woman moved aside to "accidentally" brush her hand up against her husband's crotch. A few people in line noticed and a couple of them even stared at the woman who was now openly rubbing her husband's manhood through his jeans. Tamara used this distraction to slip inside the building, and she immediately went to the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor.

Checking her compact mirror after everybody got off at the third floor (the tax companies had set up shops on floors one, two, and three), she tried to mentally prove for the millionth time what she already knew to be true. "Jeff better have a good explanation for the hair. And the tits. And my... damn, and my hands, mouth, pussy, pubic hair... or lack thereof," she mumbled to herself, remembering that she now had only a thin "landing strip" of hair above her snatch.

She didn't know how she was going to confront him, or if even if she should; after all, if he was responsible for the changes in her body, what else could he do to her? And, why was she so damn sure it was him in the first place? That really bothered her more than the fact that she only recently recognized the changes in her body as somehow unnatural. She pushed those thoughts to the back of her head as best she could as the door opened and she stepped onto the top floor of the building.

What she saw in front of the elevator doors both surprised her and forced a few pieces of a puzzle she was barely aware of to suddenly fall together: Wendy. Wendy is part of this? What the hell is going on?

Wendy looked pretty much the same as Tamara remembered from their last gig together, although her breasts seemed a little bigger. And while she couldn't be sure, she didn't remember Wendy's hair being that particular shade of red. Before Tamara could say anything ("What are you doing here, Jeff said this was a private meeting!" came to her mind), Wendy did a turn and showed off her body, making sure to run her hands through her hair.

"Don't you just love this shade! It's natural, too. I know you're confused, but Jeff made everything make sense... Oh, and check this out...," Wendy said, sliding her hand into her shorts. Tamara was going to ask her what she was doing, but she saw Wendy's hand moving over her pussy through her shorts and felt a sharp tingling in her own pussy. Now that she knew what was going on, she thought it was a curious sensation; it was a little like when Kristi fingered her, but the feeling was a little more fuzzy and vague. Whatever it was, it made Tamara's pussy drip with arousal.

"So... that's what it... mmmmm, feels like...," Tamara whispered, not meaning to say anything out loud at all. She rocked her hips and wiggled a little as the feeling grew.

Wendy just winked at her, and without withdrawing her hand from her shorts, she said, "Yeah, that's what it feels like. I've been diddling myself in public for a few weeks, just to watch the girls react. This is going to be soooo fucking cool... mmmmmm, oh yeah, Jeff's down the hall. Go on, I'll join you all in little while."

Tamara had already started to carefully (as her pussy felt like it was being tickled with hot, invisible feathers) walk past Wendy before she noticed the "you all" part. 'Join you all?' What does she mean, 'you all?' Jeff said he wanted me to come by myself... damn, speaking of 'cum,' I wish Wendy would stop that... damn, I need to... uh, find Kristi....

When she opened the door to the studio that was at the end of the hall that Wendy was "guarding," she saw Kristi. She was sitting on a nice, comfortable–looking chair, and on her lap was Julie, the girl with the perfect breasts who had been with Tamara on her second modeling gig. Julie's legs were spread wide and she reclined back onto Kristi, who was busy working Julie's hairless pussy and clit. And judging by the way Julie was moving and moaning, and by her own pussy's cries for attention, Tamara had a feeling that Julie was about to get off.

"Alright, ladies, that'll do," a male voice that Tamara knew to be Jeff's announced.

Immediately, Kristi's body lurched and spasmed so hard and intensely that she threw the orgasming Julie from her lap onto the floor. Tamara, who experienced a little orgasm herself, was going to ask if Kristi was OK, but a quick look at the woman's sexually spent and barely conscious face told her that her non–exclusive girlfriend had just cum so hard that she probably wasn't really aware of the fact that she'd just thrown Julie to the floor. Julie, on the other hand, rolled over to her back and seemed all too happy to be on the floor. Idly, and with her eyes closed, she ran her hands over her body and moaned softly.

"Oooooh. Kristi, you must be more careful," Jeff said as he seemingly appeared from out of nowhere. "Since Julie is pretty much gone, why don't you be a dear and fetch Wendy for me, OK?" Immediately, Kristi came to her senses enough to scamper to the door in search of Wendy.

The studio space was fairly empty (even the privacy curtains for the "changing rooms" had been taken down) and there was not really any place where a person to hide, but Tamara could have sworn that Jeff had not been just standing there a moment ago. She was going to ask him about that, and about everything else that had been happening that she was sure he was responsible for, but he lifted his hand and she could not speak. When Kristi left the room, he walked over to where two sofas were arranged on the far side of the room. Tamara followed, and took a seat after he did. She hadn't seen the sofas either, but of more concern was the fact that she was walking even though her mind was ordering her legs to stand still.

"OK, Tammy. I know you're pretty confused as to what's going on, even though you've pretty much figured it out. You were set to figure it out once you realized how much you'd changed... to be honest, I was starting to worry."

Cryptic, Tamara thought. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea....

"Maybe it wasn't a good idea, but that's not important. OK, where to begin... yes, your body has changed—your tits are much larger and your hair, once blonde and past the middle of your back, is black and barely shoulder–length. You can light the desires of any woman to supernova level with a few touches, and when your vagina is even slightly stimulated, other girls in the room seem to feel it. Did I leave anything out?"

A loud door slam startled Tamara, but she didn't turn around. Instead, she said, "Well... there's the fact that if I kiss or... uhm, lick a girl, she melts like butter. And, a girl will do whatever I say, if I whisper into her ear."

Jeff snapped his finger and nodded in concession. Laughing a little, he said, "Yep, you got me there. Heh, the ol' mouth routine. One of my first tricks, and an easy one to teach a girl. Funny, I remembered doing that to Wendy, Julie, and Kristi... but for some reason, I forgot about you. Amazing, seeing as how you've come so far."

"What do you mean, I've 'come so far?' And what the hell has been going on?" Tamara yelled. "Look at me! I didn't used to have these tits! And my hair—how do you go from natural blond locks to short black hair, without a single haircut or dye?! I don't know how, but I know you're... you're... ooooooh, behind..." Tamara's voice died down; with Wendy and Julie kissing opposite sides of her neck and her shoulders, and Kristi whispering in her ear to calm down, Tamara's fight dissolved into a puddle of mild concern, a strange curiosity, and instant arousal.

"That's more like it. Yes, I'm behind 'it.' I've been... tinkering... with you. More accurately, I've been preparing you. When I first saw you, I saw a lot of potential for my little business. See, an old friend of mine told me that there were things that you could do in California or New York that you couldn't get away with in a wholesome place like... heh, guess which random Midwestern state he mentioned."

"Mmmmm... Ill... Illinois...?" Tamara moaned. Her tormentors had not stopped their light oral caresses.

"Yes! Illinois. 'You can't get away with it in Illinois,' he told me, and then he offered my a huge chunk of his video distribution business as a bet. It's easier in California, you see. For one thing, you don't have to gradually change people—they come off the bus from places like this, and they invariably end up in porn. You can literally take them aside after they've done a few low–budget 'amateur' videos, rework their body and attitude in a single afternoon, and boom! Instant starlet. Nobody even asks questions anymore. Hell, so many women do it without our help, we don't even have to worry about getting caught.

"Yeah, some of the bitches actually catch on to the fact that things aren't on the up–and–up and go looking for guys who can do the stuff I can do when one of their porno friends comes home one night with a rack she didn't go to the set with. But I faced a special challenge here: nice college girls don't choose a school in fucking Springfield, Illinois so they can get boob jobs and go into porn. No, here, I had to ease you all in, and do it under the radar so nobody would notice what I was doing. And here we are. Ladies, leave her alone for a few minutes. We need to talk business. Go entertain yourselves."

The three girls left Tamara and Jeff to talk. Jeff, though, seemed to be done talking for the moment, so Tamara did the first thing that came to mind: she stood up and removed her clothes, and not in an erotic manner either. Then, she did a slow turn, and finally she sat back down. Interestingly, she was not at all concerned that she was sitting naked in front of a man who had just told her that he had been reworking her body. But, one particular detail did bother her, so she asked about it.

"OK, how did you do... this," she said, her hands holding up her tits, "to me?" The touch put her arousal into overdrive, but she mastered it so she could talk. "And... now that I think of it, why am I so sure it's you in the first place? Why do I believe you? I'm taking this pretty easy...." Tamara trailed off, curious as to why she was so indifferent to the idea of someone reshaping her from a stick–thin girl into a wet dream.

"Well, I didn't want to take forever trying to prove to you that I can do boob jobs with my mind, so I'm making you believe and accept it. As for 'how,' though...," Jeff said, repeating her question as if he wasn't quite sure she'd asked it. "Weird. Julie, Wendy, and Kristi didn't ask about how I did it. Then again, I was in their heads a lot. Well, 'how.' Hmmmm... I guess I can't really explain how I do what I do. I just do it. I reach out and change things. Playing with your brain isn't as easy as it sounds, but it's nothing compared to changing your body—much less doing so gradually. But, controlling minds is just something most of us porn mongers do. Hell, if it weren't for some annoying regulations, we'd do it to everybody who had any potential for looking good naked on camera.

"But that's beside the point. The fact is this: you're here, and my little quartet is ready to start a revolution in porn. See, you're going to be a star. I've created you for this. You, Julie, Wendy, and your special friend Kristi are going to star in a series of videos in which you go around with a small camera crew—say, one or two people—and seduce cute, straight women. What do you say?"

As Jeff said that, Kristi brought what appeared to be a multi–page contract clamped to a clip board. A pen dangling from a string was attached to the clip board, and Kristi set it on the couch next to Tamara.

"Well... wait a minute," Tamara said, trying to focus on what was being suggested. At the suggestion of seducing straight women, her whole body perked up. But, that could have also been due to the action Julie and Wendy were enjoying off in some unlit part of the loft. Then again... this does sound... intriguing. I've done this on my own a few times... and I've been naked and worse in front of the camera several times. Is there seriously anything to lose? I'll still have my business degree....

No. I can't do this, it's crazy... but why do I want to? Why am I even considering this?

"Look, Tammy. I know it's a little strange to be a business student, sign a contract to go into porn, and then graduate before making your first movie. But think. You can always use your degree when our contract is over in five years. I can even give you a few physical tweaks so nobody will recognize you. In the meantime, you will make shitloads of money—just look at that contract. People pay top dollar to see straight girls get bagged by lesbians. With me around, you will not ever have to worry about—"

"Wait. If you can make people do whatever you want, why do you need me? And why do my hands... my mouth..." Tamara said, her speech losing steam as she realized she didn't even know how to ask such an insane question. Why don't I just ask why he gave me my 'magical powers?' she thought.

"I gave you your 'magical powers,'" he said, answering her thought, "because... well, let's just say that real is always better than fake, and it's easy to give someone some limited mind control power, as long as you keep it simple and don't allow them to turn it on, off, or target it. With your 'powers' always on and begging to be used, you got to practice your... uhm, technique... on any pretty thing that caught your eye, so you're really experienced in the sack.

"Hell, that's even the reason why I changed you and the girls so slowly, even though I was more direct with the others. You grew into your looks and attitudes toward sex; they weren't just forced on you all at once. It's natural now, real. You don't have to act. Don't get me started on porn star acting... damn, you'd think there were some things mind controllers could fix!

"Besides, I didn't want to make you like being in porn. It's much better for everybody when you actually love it, which you do. You never hesitated to sign on for another shoot, no matter how hard–core it got. In fact, the only thing I'm doing now is keeping you here until you decide, and keeping you calm. You actually find this proposal so intriguing that you're considering going along with it."

Tamara was now reading the contract. She held the pen in one hand, amazed she was about to throw away her quiet, respectable life for a career in porn, albeit a brief one. But before she signed, she said, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot," Jeff said.

"What if I refuse?"

"Then I restore your body to what it was, and change you from lesbian to straight."

That prospect chilled Tamara to the bone—she loved her new body but could live without it. But life as a straight woman? No fucking way....