Jaycee's Blog - Wed, Apr 26

Walking around with a perma-boner would be hell if I didn't have Tarantina around.  Obviously, any time I want, I can have any girl I run into turn into the girl of my (wet) dreams. Today, I was driving around downtown Montreal in a 1967 Chevrolet Impala that my faerie companion conjured up for me (if you don't know, it's the car Dean Winchester drives in the TV show Supernatural). I decided I felt like recreating a sexy scene from something I wrote a few years back as part of "The (Interactive) Torment of Nicole Swan." Somewhere in there, there was a snippet where a guy gets a girl to sit in his car, after which she has an irrepressible urge to play with herself in the passenger seat. Unlike me, he couldn't have sex with her because he'd lose his virginity and his control over the faerie.

Since I know Tarantina's true name, I have no such limitation.

At the same time, just another ordinary girl would have been a bit dull. Of late, I reconnected with (hot, sexy) fitness model Jenny Poussin, a fellow Montrealer and gamer. She had vanished off Twitter for a spell, then returned not too long ago. She's insanely hot. I wanted my target to look like her. And as a general rule, I want my targets to be unpleasant people who deserve some punishment.

That's when I saw HIM. The guy was some kind of ultra-conservative jackass who was giving a hard time to a pair of lesbians holding hands on a park bench. I instructed Tarantina to bring him to my car, get in, and transform into this: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cm1ayc0rZIl/

I drove away while Tarantina gave him a shot of growing arousal. At first, he was confused by the inexplicable transformation. Then he grabbed his chest as if to confirm it was real. When it sank into him, he checked between his legs. Then (as his arousal started to grow) he began to scream at me as if I was responsible for his trouble. All the while, he put his feet on the front dash, spread his legs, pulled the short dress above his waist, and played with his crotch.

His screams turned to different screams, if you get my drift. He came close to his orgasm, but I had Tarantina put a stop to it. I added one instruction that would stick with him until he turned back to a man (who knew when that would be): in order to have an orgasm, he had to get a gay man to have one using either his mouth, his hands, or his vagina. Until then, he'd stay maddeningly close to a climax, but would not reach it.

And just to demonstrate, I had him give me a blowjob (which he did quite admirably). He tried frantically to get off right after that, but of course (since I'm not gay), he couldn't. The insults resumed, so I told Tarantina to add another curse on top of the first two: every time he'd insult someone, his clothes would shrink by 10%. Considering the tiny black dress he wore was already, well, tiny, a handful of insults would expose pretty much all his naughty bits.

I dropped him off in the Village, where he'd find plenty of potential "friends" to help him with his problem. I asked Tarantina to put a "magical tag" on him so I can check up on him in a few days. She assures me the spell will probably last a week, maybe more, so I'll catch up over the weekend and see how he's doing.

Tarantina said she was...rather pleased with my selection of curses. Come to think of it, she hasn't said anything outright insulting to me in a full day. I think she's warming up to me.

--Jaycee