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Tara and the Presidents - Chapter 2
🕑 Added 2019-05-03 14:48:45 +0000 UTC
2.
Tara awoke in her own bed with no recollection of how she’d gotten there, sitting up blearily and trying to recall what had happened. She automatically reached over to the nightstand for her glasses, not finding them before suddenly realizing she didn't even need them – her vision was crystal clear. In fact, it was sharper than she could ever recall. This triggered some indistinct, horrific memory and she instantly reached down between her legs and felt… nothing. No terrifying, gigantic bulge in the front of her panties. Just her normal self.
With a small sigh of relief, Tara climbed out of bed, walking over to the full length mirror before she realized that she was completely stark naked except for her panties and for some reason she was wearing her white lab coat. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at her reflection. Nothing short of a goddess stared back at her. Gone was any recognizable feature of herself – she instead looked like some insanely more attractive distant relative.
Her hair was several shades lighter, blonde, several inches longer as well. Somehow it had a certain volume and fullness that she'd always vaguely wanted but had never attempted to achieve. Her skin was flawless, without a trace of a pimple or spot. Her eyes held some resemblance to her own, only wider, and a lighter shade of blue. Her lips were full, luscious – so full in fact that they didn’t even close properly, in an enticing permanent part. Even her nose was different, less pointy and more flattering somehow.
She parted the lab coat to expose the rest of herself and felt her pulse quicken.
OK Tara... get a grip, she told herself. Get a grip. You’re a scientist. Be scientific.
Several more long moments of petrified shock passed before she turned toward her desk, which was just next to the mirror, and upon it was another camcorder that she used for observations, currently attached to a tabletop tripod, pointing down toward a Petri dish. Now, she swiveled it up toward the mirror so it could record the reflection. She donned a pair of latex exam gloves and then switched the camera on.
Tara, glancing at the clock, began shakily. “Um… Today is May 29th, 11:53 AM,” she said, addressing her reflection in the mirror, the camera recording, the red light on it slowly blinking. “I have been exposed to trial formula version... uh… 487…. via aerosol inhalation of unknown quantity and concentration.”
She took a deep breath and then shrugged out of the lab coat, letting it fall to the ground, and then after deliberating a few seconds, she pulled down her panties and stepped out of them as well, completely nude except for the turquoise examination gloves she was wearing.
“I… I've... experienced large observable effects from the exposure. Symptoms presented appear to be significantly altered physiological changes in a wide array of aspects.”
Her voice slowly gained confidence as she fell into her typical daily rhythm of making and recording scientific observations. She continued in as calculated and detached a manner as possible, despite her pounding heart. Start at the top, she told herself.
“Initial observation is that cranial features have been altered on a seemingly structural level. Hair length and color are changed at an accelerated rate. Retinal pigmentation lightened to some extent. Visual acuity has improved to a degree that correction is no longer required.”
Ok. This is good. Keep going, she told herself.
“Umm... Overall muscular tone and fitness have improved, and total body fat has decreased in unknown but extremely high percentage. The exception being my..
“My… my breasts,” Tara finally blurted out, quickly. “They are--"
Massive.
Enormous.
Gigantic.
“—significantly larger, having appeared to have grown several orders of magnitude in mass.”
She stared at her huge new bust, large bowling ball sized breasts yet high set, impossibly defying gravity, bouncing slightly as her chest heaved with her quickened breathing.
Tara shook her head trying to refocus. “Um... Measurements.” Take and document measurements. She pulled a tape measure out of her desk drawer.
Bending her new lithe body to put the end of the tape measure underneath her toes, Tara pulled it to the top of her volumized mane.
“I am 5' foot 11" in height. Which is… incredibly… 4 inches taller than prior to exposure.”
“My waist,” she said, wrapping the tape around her taunt, flat belly. Her blue eyes widened as she read the numbers, ”is 23 inches..!”
“My bust,” Tara said, trying to keep her voice even, and now she wrapped the tape around her massive new chest, “is.. 42 inches.”
She let out a gasp as the tape brushed against her nipples.
“Umm… sensitivity is apparently greatly heightened, evoking a strong reaction.” The beautiful face in the mirror flushed slightly in embarrassment. She tried to push past, continuing on.
“Cup size is estimated to be…” Tara let out another, larger involuntary gasp as she cupped her gigantic breasts, the sudden intensity of the pleasure overwhelming. The nipples poking between her fingers were turgid, erect.
“Ummm.. cup size...
“Umm...
“Umm.. erogenous zones appear to be highly sensitive, “ she said, distractedly, breathlessly, forgetting this last measurement though automatically continuing to observe aloud through habitual practice. Her hands appeared to be on automatic as well, massaging her tits, before pinching her own nipples. She bit down on her full lip to keep from crying out.
What in the world was she doing? You’re on camera, recording yourself, Tara admonished herself. Recording yourself doing… this…
Her face was burning with shame and self consciousness. She’d never done anything remotely like this, standing in front the mirror, stark naked, in broad daylight, exploring herself… all while the camera rolled. Somehow that only increased her arousal.
Stop this… Measure, observe, she weakly thought.
She didn’t notice at what point a gloved hand stopped massaging her breasts and moved between her legs of its own volition. “Highly aroused.. Heavily lubricated… “ she mumbled. A gloved finger slipped inside of her sex.
What the heck are you doing?!, Tara thought again, although she did nothing to cease it, entranced, staring at the blond sex bomb in the mirror massaging her gigantic breasts with one hand, the other fingering herself slowly between her long, toned legs standing parted, masturbating without any modesty.
It was then that she felt a building pressure, sudden, urgent, and not completely unfamiliar.
“Wait..!” Tara choked out meaninglessly, and she felt her clitoris pulse between her fingers, bulging, then protruding, before her hips bucked forward of their own accord and she felt again a great pressure both relieving and building anew, as her lubrication spattered the floor with a sudden gush.
She stood there gasping, bust heaving, her startled blue eyes wide, full lips parted in renewed shock and disbelief, as her cock protruded from between her legs, long, thick, red, shining wet from her vaginal lubrication.
Tara felt panic rush in, threatening to wash her composure away.
It was real.
It had really happened. It wasn’t just the imaginary nightmare she’d desperately hoped it was.
“I… I…”
What do I do, Tara thought frantically. What do I do?!
Calm down… try to keep calm...
Keep... keep talking…
“Sexual arousal has resulted in presentation of male anatomy…
“I… I… I have…”
It’s true.
Oh Lord, it’s true.
“… I have a penis,” Tara said, miserably. “Fully erect…”
She was completely horrified and repulsed, competing impulses welling up inside to either collapse on the floor and weep or run, run away, as if she could outrun this madness; but she pushed the emotions back. She was a scientist. She could get through this.
Record. Observe. Document.
She stared at the camera’s blinking red light for a few moments before gazing at the reflection, her mind numb with disbelief at the impossibly beautiful, stunned-face model looking back at her, a thick, veined cock incongruously standing proudly from her crotch. It was huge, much larger in width and girth than any of the few Tara had ever seen before in person or even adult videos.
It was so… so… masculine...
Oh, this is so disgusting, she thought faintly, feeling the panic beginning to rise up again. What am I going to do?!
Hold it down, she told herself. Panicking won’t help anything. Just keep calm. Deal with it. Be scientific. Keep the emotions out of it.
Tara took a deep breath, letting it out shakily. Then another. After the third she almost felt ready, and she brought a gloved hand between her legs, hesitating, hovering, before steeling her resolve and then gingerly she held her member between two gloved fingers, pushing it towards herself, nose wrinkling, as the slimy, alien organ touched her flat belly.
Oh, this is so unbelievably gross, she thought again with revulsion, conflicting with the baser emotions of her body. She tilted her hips toward her reflection to get a better look, mindful as well of exposing herself to the recording camera.
Just below the base of her phallus, her female genitals were still there, eliciting a queer feeling of relief and embarrassment and excitement. She could see the lips glistening with lubrication.
“My female anatomy is still intact and present as well”, she murmured, “Also in a state of arousal…”
Ok… What next? Just do something. Anything. Keep moving.
She picked up the tape measure and then held it up with shaking hands, measuring the length of her new appendage from base to tip. “Length.. Length is um.. 10 inches…”
Then she wrapped the tape around the girth of her erection, gasping again at the incredible undeniable pleasure.
“Circumference is.. 2.5 inches…” Tara said dazedly, the tape sliding slightly around her cock, causing it to twitch in her hand and she jumped at the sudden jolt of pleasure, the tape measure falling to the floor.
“Ahh..!
“So… so sensitive…
“Urge for mechanical stimulation is extremely high,” she muttered between heavy breaths. Tara stood there for several long moments, caught between the mental shock and revulsion and a new, unknown, powerful instinct. Then, slowly, with a dazed feeling of unreality, she wrapped a gloved hand around the thick shaft, feeling the hot organ pulse between her fingers with urgent need.
Oh my…
Tara shuddered at the intensity of the pleasure washing over her, her knees nearly buckling. How… how could this thick, monstrous… thing... possibly feel good to touch..?
Tara trembled with uncertainty and conflict -- some fundamental sense of inherent, unnatural abhorrence and then an incredible longing, frightening in its suddenness and intensity. Not making any conscious decision, Tara slowly moved her hand up her phallus, and it slid easily against the latex, her lubrication covering the entire length of it, the sheer pleasure powerful, overwhelming. Her long, blond hair draped the sides of her face as she stared down between her huge new breasts, transfixed.
“The male anatomy is fully integrated with my body's central nervous system… I can feel.. the pleasure… it is part of me… ”
Tara glanced up, feeling conspicuously exposed, vulnerable, under the gaze of the ever recording camera, but her hand was acting of its own accord now, and slid back down her shaft to the base.
This… you need to stop this, Tara told herself. This is sick...
But even as she thought it, her hand was moving back up, slowly sliding towards the tip and then down again as she watched, chest heaving, blue eyes shocked and wide, a prisoner in her own body.
What… what am I doing..?
But she couldn’t stop, her body continuing on autopilot. Her hand began moving faster, and now her hips pushed forward slightly with each stroke, the slick lubricated cock sliding effortlessly in her gloved fist.
Focus, she willed herself. Focus. You’re doing this for a reason… not just… because…
Document this.
“Appears to be fully functional… non vestigial…” she said, forcing herself to speak, as pre-ejaculate welled up from the tip, before spilling over onto the turquoise latex covering her fingers.
“Urge to masturbate is compulsory… undeniable…”
Tara was panting heavily now in breathless gasps, breasts heaving, her hand stroking herself faster and faster, face turned upward, eyes squeezed shut, still automatically documenting aloud, her voice taking on a strained quality.
“Strong pressure on the shaft is resulting in great pleasure… Highly sensitive near the tip, on the underside…”
Her hips rocked back forth rhythmically in time with her hand’s strokes, her knees slightly bent, thigh muscles flexing.
“I… I…”
Oh God, it’s going to happen, she thought. While I'm FILMING it... Stop…
“No…”
The veins on her forearm stood out as she stroked herself rapidly, up and down inexorably, her hand automatically coaxing toward the inevitable conclusion while her mind desperately pleaded for it not to happen, her blue eyes wide, transfixed by her reflection, mouth hanging open, gasping for breath.
“I’m.. going.. I’m going to… going to climax,” she choked out.
“No…”
“No…”
“No..!”
She felt that enormous pressure building again, both foreign and familiar and then suddenly it burst forth, and with a thrust of her hips, she gripped down hard on her erection as it spasmed and squirted bursts of thick, sticky ejaculation, splashing the mirror in front of her. She bit down on her lip, a choked grunting sound escaping, wild eyes locked on her own reflection as her hips sharply bucked involuntarily, dipping forward with each spurt. She felt her vulva convulsing as well, lubrication dripping down her inner thighs.
Tara stood there, massive chest heaving, still gripping her cock as the spurts subsided, dribbling from the head, down the shaft, coating her gloved fingers.
She gasped for a few breaths trying to slow her breathing.
“Emission”, she finally managed to get out, panting. “Emission has occurred.”
Trembling slightly, she reached over and shut off the camcorder, then cautiously peeled off the semen covered glove with revulsion, carefully avoiding touching any of the fluid, dropping it to the ground, and stood there for a long time staring at herself, sweat glistening on her flawless body, her cock still erect, dripping on the floor.
***
Tara went to the bathroom and gingerly wiped off the dribbling tip of her erection, still resolutely hard, with a tissue, ensuring not to touch it directly. She wanted to clean up the mess in front of the mirror, but she couldn’t walk around with this… thing… bobbing around in front of her. She pulled on a new pair of panties, nearly half of her phallus poking out above the hemline, pinned uncomfortably to her flat belly.
Then she set about cleaning up the mess on the mirror and floor, determinedly attempting to turn a blind eye to the origin and nature of it, as well as ignore the bulge between her legs all the while. Tara received a shock at the intense rush of pleasure she felt when she bent over, letting out a loud gasp as the fabric of her panties rubbed up against her shaft.
She did her best to ignore it, trying to move in a way that did not stimulate that feeling of perverse pleasure of her new unwelcome appendage, although she was largely unsuccessful, as virtually any movement at all seemed to trigger its extreme sensitivity.
It wants to be touched. The involuntary thought entered Tara’s head.
Tara shivered in repulsion at the whole crazy, foreign idea of the massive thing between her legs, straining against her panties, desiring prurient contact. She had to overcome this somehow, fix this somehow…
Following the cleaning, Tara was at a loss for what to do next. Should she go to the lab? How, she thought, immediately countering herself. She supposed she could wear a dress or something and try to conceal the bulge in her crotch. She cringed at the thought of going outside, riding the train, walking on campus, trying not be noticed. No, she couldn’t go outside. Not yet.
She settled for getting onto her computer and connecting to her lab machine over the network. For the next hour, she poured through her notes, though she wasn’t able to focus nearly as well as she liked. She told herself it was just the stress of her predicament affecting her concentration, but inside she knew it was something else… The need between her legs was still present, and growing.
Tara gritted her teeth and ignored it.
Getting nowhere, she flounced up from her chair with a huff and headed into the kitchen, making herself lunch, but found she had no appetite.
Not for food anyway.
Tara pushed away from the table, pacing agitatedly. She couldn’t let this thing control her. Yet even as she strode back and forth, Tara could feel it rubbing against the thin fabric restraining it. Aching to be touched. Desiring release.
Oh, this is insane, Tara thought, again feeling despondent. How is this happening to me?
Should she just… touch it again? Maybe it would help her focus better.
No… no, that was just flimsy excuse to give in to this sick urge. She needed to just use her will power. She wasn’t some mindless animal, after all.
Nothing is more powerful than the human mind, Tara thought resolutely.
I’m not doing this again.
An hour later, and Tara thought she might jump out of the window.
She didn’t know how much longer she spent restlessly pacing back and forth, deliberating between her mind and her body’s conflicting desires before she finally convinced herself that it was important to take another observation. You’re the one in charge, Tara told herself as she turned the camera on, and stood in front of the mirror, donning a fresh pair of gloves, as she pulled her panties down to her ankles, her persistent erection springing free.
This was an important discovery. She needed to study it, conduct tests.
She needed to...
“Day 1, Session 2,” Tara said in a neutral voice, suppressing a growing feeling of excitement and anticipation.
“My body remains in a state of high sexual arousal. Despite having achieved climax hours ago, the male anatomy still persists in erected condition. “
An encouraging thought occurred to her.
“Perhaps this conclusively demonstrates that overall my biological identity as female in nature remains unchanged, which can be deterministically shown by the exclusively feminine characteristic of multiple orgasms.”
Wait, what? Tara thought. Did that even make logical sense? If her male anatomy were capable of multiple orgasms, what would that prove?
Make the observations first and figure out the conclusions later, another voice in her head said dismissively.
That’s just an excuse… An excuse to give in…
No, it’s not. It’s scientific observation. It’s better than doing nothing at all.
Is it?
Struggling internally, Tara looked down at the hard erection, standing tall, waiting, wanting to be stimulated. She knew she shouldn’t do this and felt compelled to shut the camera off, walk away from the mirror, put her panties back on.
She was a brilliant scientist, not some… hormonal animal, ruled by her urges. But there was no denying what her body wanted, so badly.
Her mind… Her mind was stronger than this.
Wasn’t it?
Wasn’t it..?
Just do it… No one will ever know…
Tara stood in front of the mirror, trembling, mouth hanging slightly open, panting, trembling with need and indecision.
The silence spiraled out for a few moments as she struggled internally.
And then she looked away with a small whimper of defeat, turning her head to the side as she took her phallus in her gloved hand once again.
She bit her plump bottom lip, eyes squeezed shut as she stroked the length of herself. Despite the burning shame, guilt and revulsion, the feeling was so incredible, the pleasure more intense than she remembered, despite having felt it only hours ago.
She breathed quickly through her nose, stroking herself up and down a few times before she remembered she was supposed to be documenting this.
“Observing the functional ability for multiple climaxes,” she said, breathlessly.
Tara tried to ignore her growing excitement and stimulate herself in a composed, detached way, but her need was overwhelming and soon she was rubbing herself furiously, stroking the phallus up and down at a fervent pace, and then within a few moments, Tara knew it was going to happen again -- she felt her erection stiffen rock hard, and then she climaxed in front of the mirror again, as the camcorder witnessed, silently recording every moment.
The thick stream of semen shot out of her, coating the mirror anew, while Tara stood there shaking, twitching, eyes still squeezed shut, letting out a series of choking sounds in her throat as she repressed the instinct to cry out.
Chest heaving, Tara, opened her eyes, looking down at the white mess spattering the mirror, floor, covering her gloves and her phallus, still purposefully erect.
“Despite the male anatomy having just achieved orgasm, the state of arousal is not satiated, as postulated,” Tara said, panting.
“The desire to masturbate is still compelling,” she continued, still stroking herself slowly up and down. She was dimly aware that her sky blue eyes held an untamed look, but did nothing to address it. “Now I will determine if a second orgasm is achievable in support of the hypothesis.”
In the reflection, Tara saw a small involuntary smile play on her mouth as she said that, and her hand began to quicken its pace, but then a moment later it was gone as she willed herself to remain professional, her flawless beautiful face going completely neutral.
She was silent for the next few moments, save only for a series of rapid breaths, her hand working furiously between her legs, and then suddenly she held her breath save for a series of erratic inhales and exhales, and then Tara nearly let out a groan aloud before quickly containing herself, choking it back, as she orgasmed again, clamping her mouth shut tightly, a small sound escaping.
“Mmpph..!”
Tara slammed her hand up and down, as she coated the mirror a second time, the cords on her neck standing out, abs rippling as her entire body clenched up, her cock squirting in pulses with every stroke.
For a few moments, there was only the wet suckling sounds of her gloved hand working up and down her male sex organ, and the sharp inhales and exhales of air through her nose, the climax lasting impossibly long.
Breathing hard, Tara shuddered as her hand slowed down, the last of the semen spilling out weakly, dribbling.
“…Hypothesis…” Tara muttered, coming down, “…Hypothesis is validated…
“Ejaculation re-occurred…. Emission in equal if not larger quantity than the prior instance.”
“That last observation is taken non-empirically,” she noted, eyeing the white, oozing splashes in front of her as she continued slowly stroking herself, the thin latex of the glove gliding around her shaft, copious amounts of sticky semen oozing between her fingers.
The rest of the day passed in similar fashion. Tara struggled to resist and fight the compulsory urges but ended up making several more observations that day.
Then finally, it had happened. The desire within suddenly seemed sated, like a flame extinguishing, and then her erection abruptly softened, wilting, then finally receded, before seeming to disappear entirely. Tara stood before the mirror, her blonde sex seemingly flawless, completely normal. The only indication otherwise was the semen coating the mirror and puddled on the floor.
Tara suddenly felt like herself again, as if waking from a fevered dream and reached over to shut the camera off quickly, and the feelings of guilt bloomed up inside of her anew as she observed her soiled self and surroundings with a growing horror and awareness.
She set about to quickly clean up once more, nearly frantically, trying to erase all signs in an attempt to distract herself from what she had just done, then peeled the soiled gloves off distastefully, again careful not to let the sticky substance touch her.
She immediately showered then, quickly, suddenly exhausted, simultaneously still dismayed and yet reluctantly wondering at her transformed physique again in a detached manner as she lathered her body.
As she towelled off, she felt a little bit better. From now on, she wouldn’t touch that thing again. Today was… well, this was all new. Today had been a mistake. Tomorrow, she would be more in control and start to figure out a way to get on top of this situation.
Tara climbed into bed and was asleep before she knew it.
