ShamrockDelight

by Maxwell Avoi

  He was so embarrassed that he was sure that his cheeks would have started fires. He didn’t stop his floundering half-run for another three blocks, and then he only slowed because he was tired of his tits almost bouncing out of his shirt with every step. This had to end soon. He resolved to never take another drink again in his life.

  Finally he had to stop; this new body had stamina but he wasn’t going to accomplish anything by running the rest of the day. He turned right and went another block before finding a quiet bench. Then he sat and turned on his phone. The screen blinked for a moment before showing the low-battery warning. He knew that he only had a few minutes at best thanks to the interrupted charging session, but he had to try.

  The text-message box was flooded with messages from his friends dating back the last two days. They were variations of “dude, where are you?” in various flavors of legibility that got worse as the attached dates and times advanced. Nothing useful there.

  The pictures were slightly more help, if only to establish a timeline. The early ones showed him and his friends in different bars. They seemed familiar; Michael had hazy recollections of a couple of them. Then a guy who had to be Blarney showed up in the thirteenth picture. He was dressed all in green, with a frock coat and a tam-o-shanter hat. He even had a thin pipe clenched between his teeth, with green smoke rising out of the bowl. A few pictures later found Michael and Blarney in another pub, without his friends, and two pictures later found Blarney hugging a very surprised-looking woman identical to the one Michael had seen in the mirror. The next ones looked pretty typical if you didn’t know the identities of the people involved, the girl losing her shocked look and Blarney keeping his sly, joyous one. There was a shot of Michael with his shirt pulled up to his throat, getting his breasts autographed by a local celebrity, and then a shot of Blarney motor-boating between the magnificent mounds. Michael was laughing in the picture and he could just barely see that the girl held a shamrock between two fingers. The pictures ended early in the morning on Sunday, giving Michael no clue as to how he’d ended up in the hotel.

  He stood and dug into his pocket, swearing softly at the way that his jeans fought him. The tightness of the material made it a chore to dig into his pockets when he was standing and downright impossible when he was sitting. He started dialing Blarney’s number and was surprised to find that it was already a contact in his phone. The bastard had even added himself to his phone!

  The phone burred a few times and then clicked, and Michael heard, “’lo?” The voice on the other end obviously belonged to someone who’d been asleep.

  “Is this Blarney?” said Michael, anger making his accent more pronounced.

  “’oozis?” he said.

  “This is Michael. Or Molly. I’ve got your phone number. And a shamrock.”

  “Oh, fuck.” There was the sound of someone sitting up. “Are you okay?”

  “No I’m not okay!” he screamed into the phone. He had to admit that his new voice was good for screaming. “Where are you?”

  “No, um…where are you? I can come get you, and-“

  “Tell me now. I’ll take a cab. My phone’s about to die.”

  After another hesitation Blarney reeled off an address. It was another hotel, a much nicer one, and Michael clicked the phone off as soon as he got the information. He wasn’t armed but he planned to kill the little shit as soon as he was within arm’s length.

  Finding a taxi was easy enough, and he had plenty of cash to buy passage. Michael sat with his arms crossed over his massive chest, fuming. Everything just underlined the sources of his irritation, from the way that his tits interfered with his arms to the way that it felt as though he was sitting on a cushion thanks to his new ass. He planned to take his frustrations out on Blarney once he was changed back and had found out how on earth this had happened to him.

  Michael thanked the cabbie and tipped well; no reason to take his emotion out on the innocent. He frowned and wished that he’d tipped a little less when the driver took the opportunity to stare down Michael’s shirt, but he couldn’t blame the man. Michael marched into the lobby and looked around for the elevators. He stopped when he heard someone yell, “Molly! Oi!”

  He turned toward the voice. It belonged to a medium-height young man with sandy hair. He was utterly unremarkable and Michael didn’t recall ever having seen him before. He gave the young man a blank look until the young man pointed to himself and said, “Blarney. Don’t y’remember me?”

  Now Michael could see that it was the same face that he’d seen in the pictures. Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, Blarney looked so average that he was in danger of blending into the wall paper. Michael gave Blarney the iciest look he could manage and spat, “We are going. To your room. Now.”

  Blarney shrank away and edged around Michael without comment, hitting the elevator button. Once they were inside the elevator, he was careful to stay as far away from Michael as possible. Every time he started to speak Michael just gave him the look again and Blarney subsided.

  He led Michael to a door and unlocked it, then held it open while Michael pushed past without looking at him.

  Once the door was shut, Michael whirled on him and said, “What did you do to me? You son of a bitch, do you have any idea what kind of a morning I’ve had?”

  Blarney held up his hands to fend off the attack. Michael had so many questions that they jammed in his throat and Blarney took the opportunity to jump in.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I had no idea that you’d change like this, or that you’d stay changed so long!”

  “Change me back.” Michael had plenty of questions but they could wait until he’d lost the tits.

  Blarney got a pained look on his face. “Well, see, that’s gonna be difficult. It’s going to take a little, um, work, to get it right, and you’re not going to like it.”

  “I don’t care. Whatever. Change me back, right now.”

  “That’s…listen, I was drunk when I set this up, and I don’t want to-“

  “Change me back.” Michael’s fists opened and closed. Blarney directed a worried glance at them.

  Blarney sighed. “I will. I’m just saying, the way I set it up, there’s only one way for you to change back.”

  “What.”

  Blarney went to his dresser and rummaged in the top drawer. Finally he pulled something out and presented it to Michael. It was a shamrock, unwrapped and new-looking.

  Michael thought seriously about hooking Blarney’s eyes right out of his head. “Fuck you.”

  Blarney shrugged helplessly. “That’s the way it’s set up, girl. Soon’s you sleep with me, you’ll change back. Well, you’ll take a little time, no one wants that kinda shock when they wake up, but it’s the-“

  “Shut up. Do you swear this will work? Because if I do this and it doesn’t work, you’ll die slow.”

  Blarney gave a weak laugh. “Thought I was gonna die anyway?”

  Michael made no response beyond the glare. Blarney held up his hand. “I swear it’ll work.”

  Michael kept glaring but he very deliberately reached out and took the clover from Blarney’s hand. He closed his eyes as the familiar shock ran up his arm, this time much stronger than ever before. The un-wrapped ones apparently had a stronger effect.

  When Molly opened her eyes she took a moment to refocus on Blarney. She was still mad at him but the anger was mixed with that swelling lust that she knew would overwhelm her in a moment or two.

  Knowing that she wouldn’t need it later, Molly had no problem tearing her shirt off. She grabbed it at the point where it dipped the lowest on her chest and tore it in half, following up by ditching her bra along with it. Blarney stared wide-eyed at her tits and wasn’t prepared for her attack. She jumped on him, growling as her lips crushed against his, and she worried at his belt.

  They ripped at each other, baring her spectacular body and his mediocre one. She didn’t care; thanks to the shamrock’s effects he was precisely what she wanted in a m
an. The lust and the anger mixed until it was a howling maelstrom inside of her, and she wanted nothing more than to fuck him to death.

  Blarney tried to kiss her body, but she neither needed nor wanted foreplay. As soon as his cock was free she pushed him back onto the ground and straddled him. She screeched like an angry panther when she finally wedged herself onto him, pushing him as deep as she could get. Tenderness, respect, love: none of these words were even vaguely related to the act that the two of them performed. She was there to fuck and there was no slowing her down.

  Molly ground her hips against his, hating him and needing him at the same time, and he did his best to keep up. Her long fingernails dug into his shoulders, drawing tiny dots of blood. He protested but she screamed in his face, a roar of mingled rage and need that shut him up. Molly’s cries got louder, the mingled emotions twisting inside as they drove her on. Blarney was obviously there already but he was scared to come for fear of angering her more. Finally the climax came, harder and higher than any that she’d imagined before, and she threw back her head and howled while her pussy clamped down on him. It was too much for him to take; he pushed upward while crying out his own pleasure. Molly took it and took it, feeling as though she was never going to stop, waves of pleasure and hate and lust and anger all mixed together and wiping her out.

  When Michael finally woke up he was naked on the floor of quite a nice hotel room. He looked down at himself and almost cried at the sight of his real, male body. He looked around and was surprised to find that there was a naked woman lying on the floor next to him. She wasn’t particularly impressive, though her thick hair was a rich auburn that caught the eye. She blinked and looked around before looking down at herself.

  She sighed. “Dammit,” she said. “Well, it was fun while it lasted.” She had a strong Irish accent.

  “Are you…are you Blarney?” said Michael, looking around for something to cover himself with.

  She chuckled as she threw one arm over her modest breasts and her other hand over her groin. “Stupid fuckin’ thing t’call myself,” she said, “But what can y’do?”

  “What happened?” said Michael. The mad lust had drained from him, leaving him feeling weak and confused.

  “I’m Tessie, first of all. An’ what happened was magic.”

  “I guessed that. What are you, a leprechaun?”

  She snorted. “Nah, just someone who was lucky enough t’inhereit a chip of th’real Blarney Stone. My grandfather told me that if I kissed it at the stroke of midnight on th’start of Saint Paddy’s Day, I’d be able t’talk anyone into anything.”

  “Uh. Okay. What does that have to do with me being Molly?”

  Tessie coughed and looked embarrassed. “I lost a bet, didn’t I. Thought sure you wouldn’t be any good at darts in your condition. So we switched places.”

  “What has that got to do with being able to talk to people?”

  Tessie grinned like a child who’s been caught breaking a minor rule. “It’s amazin’ how convincing I could be. I could even talk people into impossible things, make ‘em happen.”

  “What was with the fifteen hundred bucks?”

  “The what?”

  “I woke up with fifteen hundred bucks in an envelope this morning, along with your name and number.”

  She blinked. “I have no idea. That would’ve come in handy today, too, damn. I sure hope y’didn’t do anything you’d regret for that kind of money.”

  Michael frowned. “One last question. If we switched places, what was with the big tits and the thing with the shamrocks?”

  “Well, once we switched, you weren’t as good at darts anymore, an’ you kept losin’.” Tessie gave him that disarming grin again and said, “At least you had a good Saint Paddy’s Day, even if you don’t remember much of it.”

  Michael had to laugh. “Yeah, well, next year, I’ll be at a library or something. For some reason, I’ve gone right off drinking.”