Jaycee's Blog - Tue, Sept 21

I made a bit of a mistake.

As you know, I'm now a subjugated human to Naughtybelle, which means I've got to obey her every insane whim. Worse yet, my body also follows any instruction she gives it. She can even order it/me to obey anyone else she chooses. She gave the other faeries their turns, but when that got old, she decided to take me outside and turn up the crazy.

It wasn't so bad at first. At one point, she had me wear a jogging outfit and instructed me to run along a nice pedestrian path along a small nearby river. As I ran, I developed an increasingly big (and uncomfortable) pair of boobs. As they were unsupported, they bounced around rather painfully in my tight t-shirt. By the time they were D-cups, there was no hiding them from onlookers. And of course, Naughtybelle had instructed that any time someone wolf-whistled at me, I'd get a hard-on, drop my pants, and try to rub my junk against them.

That nearly got me beat up twice, but Naughtybelle was nearby and transformed any potential attacker into a willing sex partner. If your imagination is picturing me as a sexy futa having sex with an equally sexy buddy, strike that image from your mind. One of them was a hobo; the other hadn't taken a bath in a week and didn't seem to know what a toothbrush was for.

Then Naughtybelle gave me a set of hyper-productive testicles and a compulsion to have an explosive orgasm every time someone said: "thank you" (which happens a lot when I work. Since I work remotely, I keep my camera off, but I have to remember to mute the volume when that happens—something I've failed a few times. I now have six complaints to HR from female co-workers. Can't say I blame them, but if I lose my job, I'm in trouble.

The real problem, however, came when Naughtybelle decided to have me work as a sexy waitress at a local Hooters-like bar called Brew (it's actually spelled "Broue," but pronounced the same way). She turned me into one of the regular waitresses who had called in sick. She also made it so that I'd have a vibrator stuck between my legs that would vibrate harder based on the ambient loudness. To top it all off, she made it so that I couldn't resist any instruction given by the (largely male) patrons.

I'll save the details of what followed for another time, but suffice it to say that I ended up with more glaze than two dozen Krispy Kreme donuts. By the end of the evening, I was fired (well, the original waitress was) and had no clothes on me when I left the building. I did meet a good samaritan who took me home, then learned that even good samaritans like to be rewarded with sexual favors for their good deeds—something my obedient body was glad to provide.

Anyway, once home, I tried having a talk with Naughtybelle about how dangerous it all was, and how it was wrong to do this to me. Her indifference for my safety pushed me over the edge and I lost my mind. I remember shouting several insults at her (and about faeriekind), then took it to another level by launching into a rant about how she's crazy, and that there's no Nuttybelle, that it's just her reflection and not her actual twin. It went downhill from there, and by the time I was done and stopped to catch my breath, I realized I'd stepped over the line and made it deeply personal.

There were tears in her eyes when she turned around and slowly flew away. She retired in her cupboard apartment, magically sealed the door behind her, and stayed there for the rest of the night. All the other faeries glared at me in silence, then flew through the cupboard door to go comfort her.

Like I said, a bit of a mistake.

--Jaycee