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BONUS - The Circle
🕑 Added 2022-06-19 04:00:02 +0000 UTCOn top of everything else going wrong in her life, Zoe Clemins was starting to get oily skin. How could she have gone to looking so pretty just a year ago to the plump little monster she was seeing in the mirror? Sure, she was seven months pregnant but that should’ve been an afterthought when considering her face. As she stared at her reflection and pored over her frizzy dark hair, her big, soda-bottle glasses, and that newly-developed oily skin, she realized she’d let herself go.
She stared through the mirror, to the artwork hanging above her bed. It was a pair of feet, dominating the entire foreground. The toes were curled over and there were little tufts of hair along the top of each of them. Just below the feet in a bold typeface: Embrace the Change. She wasn’t sure what that meant.
A knock at the door. “We’re starting in five minutes, Zoe.” Footsteps faded away. She didn’t get the girl’s name at the desk—she was too preoccupied when she came through the front door.
She was interred at the Hope Renaissance Center and that was the extent of her knowledge. It wasn’t a hospital, it didn’t seem to be a psychiatric ward. As her mother and husband put it, this was a place of self-discovery and it would help undo a lot of her ‘bad wiring.’ She knew she needed to be here. She wasn’t ready to be a mom.
Zoe splashed water on her face and then left the small, quaint room she’d be staying in for the weekend. To calm down, she tried to imagine it as an extended vacation. A vacation where they told you where to go, what to eat, how to dress, and what to think. This place was necessary, but it would be tough to be away from her family, her comics, and her cat, for the next seventy-two hours.
In the hallway, she was greeted by a regal-looking woman who introduced herself as Miss Mary and instructed her to continue down the hall until she reached the courtyard. Perhaps the biggest negative of her stay in this weird facility was having to go outdoors. Zoe smiled politely and waddled on down. She put a hand across her stomach and arched her back so she wouldn’t be in pain later.
The courtyard was already full of girls. Most of them were dressed similar to Zoe—casualwear like jeans and t-shirts and sneakers, although Zoe wore her favorite Birkenstocks. When she pushed through the doors—a little too hard because she’d been focusing on the reality of her situation—they each turned to look at her, curious as to why she came thundering out. Zoe felt her cheeks going flustered and she dropped her arms to the sides, feeling more exposed than she’d ever been in her life. If the purpose of the Hope Renaissance Center was to disarm her, then it was working.
“You must be Zoe,” said the older lady standing at the far edge of the circle. She had kind eyes, and for that Zoe felt her guard drop, but only a little. She nodded.
“Come on, I have you a seat.” This comment was made by a short, rotund girl who could’ve been Zoe’s little sister if not for the height and weight difference. However, Zoe’s belly was all baby. This girl, who introduced herself as Nevaeh, seemed nice enough, but Zoe didn’t plan on making new friends.
“Greetings, sweetheart,” said the lady up front, the clear teacher, guide, or handler to this whole thing. Zoe wasn’t sure what to expect—it was bound to be some sort of new-age therapy. And while she loved the idea, she wasn’t so sure for herself.
“So what are we all doing here?” she asked, hoping to break the uncomfortable silence. There was a ring of girls, at least twelve, and a firepit in the middle. “Are we going to be singing kumbaya?”
There were no laughs at her silly attempt at a joke, which only served to sober her further. She took a seat in the wooden chair and straightened her back.
The lady went on. “We’re all here for different reasons. You are here because you don’t feel ready for motherhood, something your husband and mother agree upon. I think the Circle will do you a world of good.”
“The Circle?”
“That’s right. The Circle.” She waved her hand around to the girls. “I’m Miss Kennedy. You can call me Melanie.”
“So what is this place, exactly?” asked Zoe. “A detox clinic?”
At this, the girls did laugh because they’d probably all thought the same thing. Zoe didn’t think this was the first session for many of them. But now her curiosity was piqued.
“The Circle helps us find who we’re meant to be,” said a tall, lanky girl sitting on the opposite side. If not for her breasts, Zoe would’ve guessed she was much younger.
“That’s right, Parker. The Circle is different for us all. We all bring different issues to it and we all come out with different results. How does that sound?”
Zoe shrugged. “Like hokum.” Then, feeling bad for being blatantly honest, she added, “So when do we begin?”
Melanie smiled and took a seat just next to Parker. “We begin now. But are you ready? You’re going to be facing issues you probably haven’t thought of in quite some time. It’s all to complete your Circle.”
“So now the Circle isn’t just physical, it’s mental?” she said.
“That’s right. You come to the Circle to complete your Circle. You’ll understand soon enough.”
“Well I have a full weekend,” she said. “I suppose we get started.”
Melanie nodded, then leaned forward and began preparing the firepit. Somewhere behind and to the side, the doors to the facility swung shut. It was a chilly evening, and she could feel the wind biting through the courtyard.
“So where’re you from?” asked Nevaeh.
“Jonestown, Colorado. You?”
“Philadelphia.”
Zoe chuckled. “Seems our families went to great lengths to send us halfway across the country.” That wasn’t the truth of her story, but Brad and her mother’s coaxing were starting to become firm.
“My family didn’t make me. This is the third time I’ve come. It . . . helps me a lot. Whenever I start having problems in my life, the Circle helps me refocus.”
Zoe was about to ask questions about that, but then a roaring, greenish fire sprouted in the firepit. It was so high that she could barely see Parker on the other side, her eyes watching the lapping flames.
“Now, girls. Those of you who have been with me before know how I like to do things. Let’s get comfy, shall we? Shoes off!”
Each lady slipped off her shoes and placed them in the little pouch attached to each chair. Zoe looked across, noticing each lady’s toes. You could tell a lot about a woman by her feet, especially her toes. There were natural ones, those with French tips, wild and outrageous colors, and then Zoe’s which were painted white because her husband loved them that way. It seemed as if everyone here came from a different walk of life.
Melanie continued. “Now, I want you to drive your toes right into the sand in front of you. Go on, I promise the cats aren’t allowed in this part of the facility.” This was met by more laughs and Zoe loosened up just a little. She wedged her toes beneath the warm sand, loving the feeling of it between them. Slowly, she started to relax.
“Now, let’s get started, shall we?”
To the left and right, the girls settled into their seats and a hush fell across the courtyard. A few of them stared into the flames while others closed their eyes and relaxed. Zoe didn’t understand this kind of therapy—if that’s what one would call it, but she was willing to give it a try. She cleared her throat, sunk into her seat, and closed her eyes.
The lapping of the fire was all she could hear. A strong smell permeated her nose—it was sweet, not quite food, not quite perfume. But somehow it reminded her of when she was a little girl at the lake with her dad. It smelled of rubber, of the tire swing. Somewhere in the back of Zoe’s brain she understood that it smelled like no such thing, but merely it suggested it because she’d been estranged from her father lately. This little pow-wow was about to force some soul-searching.
“You may start to feel odd, but that’s normal,” said Melanie. “The important thing is that you’re relaxed and open to your thoughts. You are all here because you are missing something. Or, perhaps you just need a little course correction. I can’t show you the way. I can only provide you the flashlight. And luckily, your bodies will do most of the work.”
Zoe wasn’t sure if it was suggestion or not, but she could feel a tingling beginning at her toes, traveling up her soles, and into her calves. It moved between her legs and made her uncomfortable, as if she’d just finished shaving. This made her squeeze the sand even more, diving in until both feet were covered. It wasn’t a bad feeling at all, but quite the opposite. She continued to sink down into her chair, feeling her frizzy locks touching the back.
“I want you to reach deep inside yourself and think of why you’re here,” Melanie said. Her voice had moved. She was now to the left of Zoe. “Don’t say it out loud. Just . . . think. And hold it there.”
When Zoe found out she was pregnant, it was the most terrifying experience she’d ever had. She’d felt sick that Sunday morning but this was nothing new. She’d said goodnight to Brad on Saturday and went out with her ‘squad’ of lady friends who were just as childish. Zoe had been late, so she took a test that morning. And as she moved a bag of frozen peas from her forehead, she couldn’t believe it. Those two little lines . . .
She was pregnant. She was twenty-four, barely married, and still living as if she were right out of high school. There was no way Zoe was ready for this responsibility. Brad (and her mother) still helped her maintain bills. It wasn’t until a year ago that she started to manage her own checkbook. How was she expected to care for a child when she was a child herself?
The thought process was getting her worked up, so she concentrated on slowing her breaths and returned to Melanie’s question. Why was she here? It was obvious. She wanted to be a good mom, the kind that didn’t get her baby carted off by CPS. She wanted a family, and the Hope Renaissance Center was the place to start.
As soon as she made the connection, something loosened in her body and she felt more at peace now than ever before. It had to be the weird green flame, she thought. Melanie was totally burning some kind of reefer. Zoe was sure it was safe for the baby—the lady was a professional, after all. Staring over at the teacher, it was clear she was enjoying it as much as the girls. A fine sheen of sweat had formed on her head and she often let her mouth hang open, as if bordering on an orgasm.
The tingling increased, moving up her legs and surprisingly settling between them. Her orgasms had been spectacular since getting pregnant, but even those paled in comparison to the way she felt surrounded by a dozen strangers. As Melanie spoke, as she gently nudged their way of thinking, Zoe could feel an intense throbbing in her sweet spot. Without thinking, she gripped the armrests of the chair until the wood groaned.
Her voice came out as an aroused purr. “By now we should all be settling in. We’re relaxing. We’re minding our breaths. I want you to continue to sink lower in the chair. Drive your toes deeper into the sand.”
She did as asked, wondering just how deep they could go. When her feet were submerged up to the ankle, she felt herself sliding off the chair. A series of laughs and surprised yelps went around the circle and Zoe grinned because they were all experiencing the same thing, this odd disorienting that was making the world seem focused.
When she opened her eyes, she was surprised to see that all the girls had abandoned the chairs and were now on the ground. Directly across from her sat Parker, the tall, lanky girl. Her feet were out of the sand and her soles were facing Zoe. They looked so large—larger than what should’ve been attached to the girl. When she bent her toes, Zoe could see that the blue nail polish was starting to chip away. She didn’t dwell on these details, for the flames probably distorted everything she was seeing.
A calm had settled over them. Melanie was seated on the ground, just next to Nevaeh, her feet plunged into the sand. There was something else odd about the girls, although she couldn’t place it, not yet anyway. With the darkening sky and the green haze brought on by the flame, it was making everyone cast long shadows.
Perhaps it was just the hyperawareness of her body, but Zoe’s clothes were starting to feel odd. She reasoned it was the way she was sitting with her jeans biting into her waist, but that couldn’t account for the tightness around her ankles where she’d rolled up the pant legs. She adjusted her shirt, noticing that the bra had shifted. Pregnancy had given her bigger breasts but were they always this big? As Zoe put her chin against her chest, she noticed a fair amount of cleavage and she wasn’t sure it was like that twenty minutes ago. Then again, the pregnant body was a funhouse of constant changes.
Melanie said, “Sometimes, a mental change needs a little help. And a physical change can lead it. Do you all feel a physical change yet?”
A murmur of agreement.
“My toes . . . feel longer,” said Parker. Zoe opened one eye and saw her clenching, sand falling between them. They certainly did look longer.
“What else?”
A girl across the room said, “My ass feels wedged into my pants.” No one laughed as Zoe would’ve expected. They were all feeling the same effects.
Another girl who called herself Judy claimed her hands were longer and that her fingers looked like carrots. A young girl named Jennifer said most of her changes were felt, rather than seen, and that she was itching from head to toe, and it was like her limbs were stretching out with ropes attached. They were all becoming something new, but it was hardly consistent.
“It’ll feel good in a minute,” Melanie said. “What about you, Zoe?”
She didn’t hesitate. “My boobs. They’re . . . ginormous.”
That did get a chuckle across the circle. Just then, she felt a squeeze of her breast. Nevaeh was gripping it, as if verifying Zoe’s words. “Yeah, they sure are!” she said, then dropped her hand as if nothing were amiss. Normally, Zoe would’ve had a problem with being touched—especially on a sensitive part of her body. But between the pregnancy where everyone seemed free to rub her belly, and the Circle, she felt her inhibitions slowly melting away.
The other girls shared their stories, as well. Melanie asked what they were ‘keeping’ and what they were ‘letting go of’ when they thought of life after they left the facility. Most girls wanted to forget emotional baggage. Zoe felt horrible for those who laid it all bare—the ones who talked about sexual abuse, growing up without money for food, or closest to her heart—Nevaeh who’d had two miscarriages in just as many years.
They were bonding and she didn’t even realize it. Melanie just smiled at the group, listening, gently directing, and letting each girl talk about the circumstances that made them want a retreat at the Hope Renaissance. Zoe was perhaps the least interesting.
“I want to be a better mom,” she said, and it was met with gentle coos and awws.
“Why don’t you think you will be?” asked Parker.
“Because I’m childish. I put myself before everyone else and I’m afraid I’ll do the same for my baby.”
“Do you have a name yet?” asked Melanie.
“Yeah,” she said. “He’s Zackary.”
Again, the coos and the awws.
“Alright ladies. I’ve made you put it all out there. I’ve given you the flashlight. You know why you’re here. You know what you need. Let’s make our bodies meet us halfway, shall we?”
Zoe didn’t understand their excitement at this, but Melanie threw a handful of what looked like salt onto the fire. It suddenly roared higher, the flames turning bright, almost lime green, before settling back to its darker hue. The teacher settled back and made a tiny moan as she twisted her feet and squeezed her toes. Zoe continued to relax. She brought her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, although it was difficult with a seven-month pregnant belly in the way.
She was feeling pressure, but not at her belly—this was coming from her knees and thighs. The jeans were painfully tight, and obviously this wasn’t an issue confined just to Zoe. Somewhere across the crackling fire, she heard a seam rip, just a slight noise above their heavy breathing and . . . moaning? It was an erotic sensation, for sure, but she couldn’t believe they were making such lovely noises.
“It always gets me,” said Nevaeh. “Right . . . about . . . now.” Her voice was a low purr, and when Zoe glanced over, there was no more shirt. Instead, the girl was completely topless, her skin shiny and sweaty. She had one of her feet crossed over her leg, revealing a very dirty sole to Zoe. But there was something else happening, too.
As the girl’s fingers rubbed across her bicep, Zoe could see little tufts of hair, as if she’d skipped a day of waxing. And for some reason, that made her check her own arms. She lifted the sleeve and sure enough, hair had begun to blossom. Across the fire, the other girls were getting more comfortable which meant shirts came off, belts loosened, and relaxed sighs filled the circle.
Zoe caught Melanie’s eye. She smiled gently and affectionately, for she knew the panic that could’ve arisen in the newest girl. But Zoe was calm, perhaps made that way by the green flames and its vapor. The host nodded and said, “Just relax. Your body is waking up to the change. This is a good thing.”
Zoe nodded, trying to understand the extent of this change. She felt Zackary kick inside her belly, but it was odd—he’d done it before, but now he seemed distant, as if he were further away from the wall of her stomach.
There were so many changes happening all at once that she had trouble nailing down specifically what was happening to her. As she looked down at her toes, she saw them surfacing through the sand. It wasn’t a conscious effort, for she wasn’t even moving her feet. So why were they rising up?
Her hair felt heavier, although she couldn’t explain why. As she reached up and ran fingers through it, she was amazed that it was so sweaty, despite the air outside feeling so cool. But with her hands on her head, she made another discovery—the curls were falling out. This was exceptionally odd because those curls were natural. Shaking her head side to side, she figured out the cause—it hung down past the middle of her back. Somehow, her hair had gotten longer, which straightened and pulled it south.
Each girl around the fire was experiencing the same thing, even Melanie. Her once beehive locks were now falling well past her back, and were pooling just next to her on the sand. She was trembling, the excitement barely contained. They were all looking unkempt, more like shadows of themselves, but just when she was about to question it, Melanie gave the answer.
“This is laying yourself bare, Zoe. You’re seeing the real Zoe. The one who doesn’t care about her nails or makeup or hair. If you can be okay with the Circle Zoe, you can be okay in any walk of life.”
Parker said, “Yeah, girl. Just let it work through you. You’re gonna love the new you.” She stretched her legs and that’s when they all heard the rip at her thighs. She scrunched her sand-covered toes and relaxed her feet until they were on the sides, but didn’t seem to care—or acknowledge—the rip.
The other girls were moaning louder now and Zoe knew why—it was like riding the edge of the best orgasm ever. Something was building inside her, something was seeping into her bones and skin and muscles with each crackling lap of the flames. Even Melanie had shed her button-up top. Her breasts were large, but she also had the little tufts of hair growing. She gave herself a stretch, interlacing her fingers at the top, and that’s when Zoe noticed the hair beneath her arms.
And maybe it was simple suggestion, but she suddenly felt an itching beneath her own. She reached beneath the shirt and dabbed her fingers, feeling the coarse hair that certainly wasn’t there before the Circle. It made her all tingly. She should’ve been freaking out, or at the very least, upset. But this change fascinated her and she wanted to see where it would take her.
Hair was growing everywhere, not just beneath her arms. It was almost as if she’d skipped the Brazilian and decided to let her body turn natural. That was something she’d never allow—she’d have never landed Brad without her pristine eyebrows and flawless skin. But now, little errant hairs were sprouting all over the place. She felt it on her arms when she raked her nails across it, and could feel it pushing uncomfortably against her legs inside the pants. But most of all, she felt it between the legs—hair in a place where there shouldn’t have been any.
“Lose the shirt,” said Nevaeh. “You’re sweating through it.”
Zoe fanned herself, feeling the wetness of her top. She was sweating everywhere, but it was prominent upon such a flimsy garment. “Yeah, I suppose I am.”
“Get naked with us,” said Parker. “Just the shirt, though. You’ll lose the pants soon enough!” At this, they all laughed or nodded. Zoe, feeling the final trickle of her inhibitions blow away, lifted her shirt and then tossed it behind her. Next came the bra, and perhaps as an exercise in trust and companionship, those who were still wearing a boulder-holder, took them off, twirled them, and tossed them away.
Seeing the girls do this gave her free reign to relax. She leaned back, put her hands on the grass behind her and buried her heels in the sand in front of her. She was feeling powerful, like some hidden strength, untapped until now, had surged to the top. The fire seemed smaller, but that was probably because Melanie wasn’t feeding it any longer. She was too wrapped up in the change, just like the rest of them. Her feet were so big as they stretched near the kindling. As Zoe relaxed, falling almost into a trance, she could see the lady’s feet . . . getting bigger.
It was subtle, but there was a clear indication—her heels were dragging in the sand, despite the fact that Melanie remained still. The sliver of skin at the edge of her jeans got longer and longer, as if more leg was feeding through the hole.
“Were they really . . . growing?”
“Now comes the time for self-discovery, ladies. What will you take from the Circle? None of this does us any good if we can’t use it in our daily lives. I’ll go first. I will be more of a companion to my friends and family. I’ve been so standoffish the past few weeks. I’m . . . going through a divorce. And it’s made me shut out the world. I’ll try to fix that.”
Before anyone could ask her any questions, Parker said, “I’ll make sure keep civil when my girlfriend wants to start an argument. I blow up on her all the time.”
“I need to end things with my boyfriend but I’ve been dragging my feet,” said Nevaeh. “That relationship has been dead for so long, but I just can’t accept it. I’m going to try.”
Zoe suddenly felt like a child again. These people dealt with real problems. Her issues weren’t anything of the sort. Sitting there surrounded by the girls made her feel like a little girl playing make-believe. But when it came her turn to talk, she said what was on her mind, and what was in her heart.
“I’m going to step up and be an adult. This baby needs me and I’m going to be the best mom I can be.” This was met with hands on her shoulders, stroking affectionately. Normally, she’d have a problem with this but it felt nice, and the girls had such a gentle way with her. It was like they were all meant to be here, in this Circle. She put her hand atop Nevaeh’s and held it there, feeling the coarse hair on the girl’s fingers.
The answers went around the rest of the group, most of them grappling with horrible problems and stress. Past-due bills, parents with cancer, children who were being bullied at school, and even a girl who said she was hiding from her abusive ex-husband. Zoe felt a kinship with these girls that she’d never established in high school, nor in college.
The moans intensified, a few of the girls pitched forward. Parker was leaning near the fire, her mouth hanging open, her hair—now long and straight and vibrant under the green glow, reached to the sand. A few girls to the left were likewise doubled over, eyes closed as they rode the ecstasy. Even Nevaeh and Melanie were feeling nice, and it was all thanks to the hands they’d shoved down the front of their jeans. Every girl here was pleasuring herself, and seeing as how the host of the Circle had already joined in, Zoe thought it was time to take this sisterhood to the next level.
But she found it rather difficult to shove her hand down the front of her pants. Even lying back on the grass with her head beneath her seat, she had trouble pushing in. The pregnant belly was to blame, but not fully. Finally, she relaxed, took a deep breath, and somehow managed to cram her fingers down below.
The first thing she noticed was the wetness. This had been far more arousing than she anticipated. But soon after she found the large tuft of hair, as if it had been placed there magically. She kept herself well-groomed, if not shaven, so this was quite a surprise. She expected every other girl had gone through the same thing.
More rips and shreds across the group. Zoe couldn’t see much while she was lying flat because of her stomach, so she rolled onto her side and put her face against the grass. The dew felt nice on her flushed skin, but her now longer hair cushioned most of it. From here, she could see several others were on their backs or sides, the front of their tight pants bouncing with fingers.
Her feet were close to the fire, as were all the others. They were all so long and so dirty—and sweaty because of the heat. Zoe touched at least two girls during their playtime but no one seemed to care. In fact, it was a form of grounding when they connected, something she wanted to explore in detail. Perhaps at her next Hope Renaissance meeting . . .
Nevaeh turned her body inward until her long, dirty feet were touching Zoe’s, sole to sole. All at once, the girls hit their crescendo, and it was like music wafting through the Circle. The flame leapt high, filling their eyes with its brilliance before going out almost completely. Zoe’s own excitement elevated to new heights when her mind drifted back to the night that she got pregnant—just her and Brad at the Marriot on a business trip. It wasn’t anything spectacular, and that simplicity was what made it magical. This fantasy, this memory, was so powerful.
What remained of the fire was nothing more than green-tinged embers. And now, the rip of clothing . . .
Zoe’s legs burst from the jeans, leaving them in such small tatters that she couldn’t believe she’d been wearing them in the first place. She rolled back onto her bottom and watched as her feet dragged trails in the sand. Little tufts of hair adorned the top of each toe. Now that the sun had gone down and the sky was speckled with stars, she could see the hair upon her legs and arms. It felt nice, like being covered in a blanket.
The first girls stood and twirled around, using their hands to rip away the remaining garments. They didn’t look like giants at first, but that was merely an illusion because Zoe was also a giant. It wasn’t much, but she stood at least a couple heads taller than before. When she got to her feet and placed her foot next to her sandals, she could see that her toes outpaced the shoes by at least four inches.
“You become a different size each time,” said Melanie, now a tiny bit shorter than Zoe. “I would guess you’re about seven and a half feet. That’s not bad for a first time. How do you feel?”
“I feel . . . free,” she said, and held her arms out. They were incredibly long and muscular, with hair all the way up to her knuckles. The hair on her head, like on everyone else’s head, was long and straight because gravity controlled it. Most of all, she was impressed by the size of her feet. Normally, they were dainty things, sometimes requiring her to find shoes in the little girls’ section of department stores. Now, they were massive, wide and hairy. Whenever she scooped up sand with her toes, she felt like a proper excavator.
“Now girls, hug yourself and each other, and remember why you came.”
It felt weird wrapping her arms around her body, but nothing so weird as when she hugged Nevaeh and was able to meet the girl breast to breast. That was something she’d not been able to do in the last two months because of—
“Where . . . where is Zackary?” she asked, panic rising in her voice. She rubbed her baby bump but it was nearly gone, reduced to a small nub.
“He’s there and he’s fine,” said Melanie, rubbing a hand across her stomach. “You grew. He did not. So it gives the illusion that your stomach isn’t so pronounced.”
“Oh,” she said, and laughed. She relaxed after that and the girls settled back onto the ground and talked.
It was an odd change from when she first entered the group. No one was talking, as if they were all in high school, back in detention hall. But through the magic of sisterhood—and the desire to have a revelation, Zoe considered them friends. By the time they felt their bodies changing back, she’d already gotten six phone numbers and two mailing addresses. She even met a nice lady named Tabitha who had four kids who told Zoe that she was just a phone call away once Zackary made his appearance.
Their excess hair fell off before their inches. By the time Zoe was six and a half feet tall, she looked roughly the same as before, only scaled up. Her hand touched her stomach as Zackary swelled back out. And as if he wanted to remind her that everything was okay, he gave a little kick against her ribcage.
“Settle down, little man. I know you’re hungry.”
“C’mon,” said Nevaeh once Miss Mary brought them all a change of clothes. “I’ll show you where we eat. This place is great!”
She ran ahead but Zoe stopped and said, “So what happens tomorrow?”
She turned back and grinned. “We do it all over again. You coming?”
Zoe thought this was going to be a magical weekend.
***
By the last night of the Circle, Zoe felt like a new woman. Melanie explained it as if they were lumps of clay. They started out cold and stuff but the more times they went through the change, the more their bodies accepted it. Zoe looked across at her sisters at the right moment—the moment before the all started to change back. This was the twilight hour of their coming together, and she hated when it was over.
None of them cared about the fancy clothes they arrived in, nor the Circle-appropriate jeans and t-shirts. They kept on their tatters because it was like a badge of honor. By the third day, the chairs were gone, as they went straight to sitting on the grass. Zoe wasted no time shoving her hands down her pants, nor did anyone else. With each succession of the Circle, their arousal hit earlier.
“Fuck, it’s good, isn’t it?” said Nevaeh, her filter completely evaporated by the third day. “And the hair has even finished growing in yet.”
“Wish we could stay in this world forever,” said Parker, lying on her side. Both her hands were down her pants, as she’d ripped them so completely. She revealed much to the girls, but none of them cared.
Even Zoe was still wearing a shirt that split down the middle last night. She loved the cool air on her sweaty breasts. She too was leaned back, splitting her time between watching the stars and watching Melanie.
Their teacher no longer provided instructions. She set the flames burning and then let the girls arrive when and how they needed. It was such an erotic experience. Zoe kept her breathing level, but it increased greatly when she rolled over and her soles touched Nevaeh’s dirty feet. Something about contact made her whole body tingle.
And at the very end, they sat up and looked at one another, their orgasm passed but the lingering horniness remaining. Zoe tweaked her nipples while she watched Melanie do the same. They were all so hair, so sweaty, and so turned on.
With a shudder, they began to dwindle away, and Zoe leaned back on the grass, shoved her hand down her mangled pants, and went for a third round . . .
