The Blue Potion
By Trixie Adara
For Wizard Stick
Hannah’s hand shakes with the small blue vial. This is it. There’s no going back. She asked the strange woman at the shop for something that would make her feel confident, something that would help her feel more in control of her life.
The potion cost her seven hundred dollars, so it better work.
There’s a knock at the stall door.
“Occupied,” squeaks Hannah.
She doesn’t have time to waste. “Man up, Hannah,” she mutters. “Don’t be such a pussy.” She unscrews the top and smells it: minty and citrusy. Could be worse.
Hannah plugs her nose and swallows it in one go. She releases her nose and exhales and tastes … strawberry?
She closes her eyes and becomes hyper aware of her body. How does she feel? Strong? Powerful? Confident? Bitchy? Bossy? Calm?
No. She feels like Hannah. Useless and normal Hannah.
She sighs. “Should have spent the money on a new vibrator.”
Hannah flushes the empty toilet, stands, and straightens her skirt. She’s been gone from her desk for ten minutes, and if anyone would notice, Miss Jennifer would.
Miss Jennifer is one of the most successful fashion designers in the city. She is a force of nature: needy, demanding, poised, beautiful, dominant, brilliant, and … bitchy. Hannah spent thousands in therapy from this job alone, and what was seven hundred dollars for a stupid potion compared to a few grand for Dr. Weissman? Hannah is sure Miss Jennifer wouldn’t get away with abusing her staff if she wasn’t gorgeous, wealthy, a genius, and … gorgeous. Women want to be her and men want to bang her.
Hannah just wants to know what the hell it takes to please her.
When Hannah reaches her desk, her phone buzzes immediately. She presses the button. “Yes, Miss Jennifer?”
“I asked you for my sketches of the line for Mr. Garibaldi.”
“Yes, Miss, I went to the bathroom.”
“Are you sick?”
“No, Miss.”
“Do you need to go home?”
“No, Miss.”
“Then why the hell did it take you so long to use the bathroom?”
“It was just ten minutes,” whimpers Hannah.
“What?”
“It was just ten minutes, Miss,” says Hannah.
“Jesus, did you fucking time it?”
“No … I mean … y-y-yes, Miss, I mean …” Hannah lets out a deep breath. “I mean I kept an eye on the clock, and it was about ten minutes.”
“Come in here,” says Miss Jennifer.
“Right now? What about the sketches?”
There’s no response on the phone. Hannah tests the button one more time: “Miss Jennifer?” She releases the button. “Shit,” she hisses. She straightens her skirt, moves a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and heads into Miss Jennifer’s office.
Behind her desk, sits the strangest and most beautiful woman Hannah has ever seen. Miss Jennifer is an artist, not an executive. Her hair is up in a double bun. On the outside, they look blue, but Hannah knew a rainbow would cascade down Jennifer’s back if she undid them. Miss Jennifer wears dark purple lipstick with gorgeous cat’s eyes with periwinkle eyeshadow. She looks like a fairy. Her outfit is a simple white crop-top with tiny black shorts and combat boots. Again, she is a strange creature. But her wide hips, thin stomach, and big bust keep people drooling over her and looking past the fact that Miss Jennifer is a heinous bitch.
“Ten minutes?” she asks without looking up from her sketch pad.
“Yes, Miss, I —”
“Do me a favor,” says Miss Jennifer. “Take out your phone.”
Hannah obeys. Miss Jennifer finally looks up.
“Time everything you do today. I want a report by the end of the day. I want your full timelog. Did you spend thirty seconds washing your hands? I want to know. Five minutes finding my sketches for the motherfucking Garibaldi show? Tell me. Hell, if you spend ten minutes in the bathroom fingering yourself thinking about some guy who gave you your first doubletake in a decade, tell me. Write it down. I want to know.”
“Y-y-you —”
“Want to know. Yes.” Miss Jennifer goes back to looking at her sketchpad. “I figure, if you’re spending so much time keeping track for me, you might as well write it down. Then we can discuss how you’re wasting the time I pay you for at the end of each day.”
Hannah feels something warm spread over her legs. She feels … hungry. At first she thinks the potion is having the inverse effect: making her turned on from Miss Jennifer’s humiliation. But that isn’t it. She isn’t turned on.
She’s angry.
The heat spreads up her belly and through her chest.
“That’s out of line,” Hannah says before she thinks better.
“Excuse me?” asks Miss Jennifer.
“Y-you can’t ask me to do that,” stammers Hannah. The fire inches back down to her thighs and crotch. She resists a gasp of pleasure.
“I can’t?”
“No.”
“I’m your boss.” Miss Jennifer stands up, letting the sketchpad fall. “You do want to be employed, don’t you?”
“You don’t control me,” snaps Hannah. This time she does gasp. Something is stirring within her, filling her, growing inside of her. She feels like a vibrator is inside her pussy. She feels full.
She feels strong.
“What did you say?” asks Jennifer.
“You don’t control me. Being pretty and brilliant doesn’t give you the right to be a bitch,” says Hannah.
“Did you just call me —”
“In fact, I’m not sure you are brilliant,” interrupts Hannah. “You’re hot, and maybe that’s all you have going for you.”
Hannah’s hips buck forward as a wave of pleasure rolls over her. She gasps, and Jennifer stares on in disbelief as her assistant is overcome with some type of demonic possession.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” asks Jennifer.
“You, bitch,” says Hannah. “You’re my problem.”
The pleasure pulses through Hannah over and over until it is a thrum, an engine of pleasure rocking through her entire body. She feels strong. She feels young. She feels invincible. The potion must be working. It’s working. She’ll never take another stupid order from this stupid bitch again.
Hannah turns around and closes the office door. She locks it behind her.
“What are you doing?” asks Jennifer.
Hannah doesn’t answer. She turns around and goes back to Jennifer’s desk. She takes the phone off the hook. She grabs Jennifer’s cell phone and slides it into her top.
“Give that back,” hisses Jennifer.
“Shut up,” says Hannah. She’s calm. She feels the strength building in her, growing around her hips, spiraling from her belly, humming through her crotch. She won’t let Jennifer demean her. Not anymore.
“You need to shut up,” says Hannah. “You talk too damn much.”
“Give me my phone —”
Hannah steps forward and slaps Jennifer. Her hand is firm, staying straight all the way through. Jennifer’s head turns with the strike, and she whimpers. Hannah’s skirt tents with her new strength.
“Better,” says Hannah. “Are you listening now?”
Jennifer nods.
“Good.” Hannah sits down and motions for Jennifer to sit. She obeys. “Now, we need to get a few things straight. First of all, you can’t talk to me that way, okay?”
Jennifer nods.
“Say, ‘yes, Miss Hannah.’”
“Yes, Miss Hannah.”
Miss Hannah feels tension build around her hips. She shifts in her seat to get comfortable.
“Good,” sighs Miss Hannah. She’s losing her comfort. She feels trapped and tight. Is the potion wearing off? No. Not so soon.
“I’m sorry,” mutters Jennifer.
That harden’s Miss Hannah’s resolve. “Good. That’s a good start.” The potion must be working. She doesn’t need to worry. The heat boils through her. She takes off her jacket. She needs to relax. Get comfortable.
You’re in control.
“I’m in control now,” whispers Miss Hannah.
“What?” asks Jennifer.
“I’m in control now,” says Miss Hannah.
“Yes, Miss Hannah.”
“Good. Come here,” orders Miss Hannah.
Jennifer obeys, coming around the desk and standing in front of Miss Hannah. Miss Hannah inspects her. Jennifer keeps her eyes on the floor, ignoring Miss Hannah’s bare shoulders, ignoring Miss Hannah’s smooth legs, ignoring Miss Hannah’s bulging skirt. She isn’t sweating. She must not be hot like Miss Hannah. But she’s panting. Jennifer’s chest heaves in deep breaths as she shifts her weight from foot to foot.
“You’re turned on,” says Miss Hannah.
“No,” whispers Jennifer.
“Do you like being slapped?”
“No.”
“Do you like being put in your place?”
“No.”
“Your body doesn’t lie,” Miss Hannah reaches out a hand for Jennifer’s crotch. It’s warm. Is it wet? She has to know. The heat in Hannah’s body has to know. The pressure has to know.
“Take off your shorts,” orders Miss Hannah.
Jennifer hesitates.
“You want to make it up to me for being such a bitch?”
Jennifer nods.
“Then take off your shorts.”
Jennifer obeys.
As the shorts roll over Jennifer’s plump ass, Miss Hannah sees her soaked panties. She wants this. Jennifer wants to be controlled. Miss Hannah wants control. It’s perfect. The potion is working. Miss Hannah smiles.
“You like being put in your place,” purrs Miss Hannah.
Jennifer nods.
The bulge in Miss Hannah’s skirt pulses. Now is the time. She can finally put this bitch in her place: between Miss Hannah’s legs.
“On your knees,” orders Miss Hannah.
Jennifer obeys.
Miss Hannah stands, looming over her slut.
“Take off my skirt.”
Jennifer obeys, peeling the skirt down Miss Hannah’s leg. The skirt gets stuck on the bulge. Jennifer’s brows furrow. What’s happening? But Miss Hannah doesn’t care. She’s powerful now.
The skirt pops off, and with it, Miss Hannah’s ruined and torn panties. Jennifer’s eyes widen. Between Miss Hannah’s legs is a hard cock. Miss Hannah smiles ruefully at her cock. Yes, this makes sense. She’s strong now. She’s in control. She needs to put Jennifer in her place, and that means fucking Jennifer. The potion gave her something to fuck with.
It isn’t about a cock. It’s about destroying Jennifer. It’s about taking control. It’s about seeing your boss’ mouth around your hard cock. It’s about fucking and taking.
“You like?” asks Miss Hannah.
“W-what?” asks Jennifer.
“You like my cock?”
Miss Hannah runs her fingers over the cock, giving it a small stroke. She shivers with delight. The power is intoxicating. She can fuck Jennifer. She’s going to fuck Jennifer. A small bead of precum builds at the tip of her cock.
It’s a faint blue color.
Jennifer nods, but she can’t take her eyes away from the tip.
“You want to suck it,” says Miss Hannah.
Jennifer doesn’t move. No one moves. Once she moves, there’s no going back. Miss Hannah inches forwards, bringing the tip closer to Jennifer’s lips. One taste and Jennifer is destroyed. One taste and Hannah is a Miss forever.
Jennifer creeps forward and gives the tiniest lick. Miss Hannah’s world turns white. Fuck. This is what she’s missed? This is power?
But Jennifer’s response is more. Her eyes roll back, and a deep moan rumbles from her throat.
“Fuck,” moans Jennifer. “What the fuck is that?”
“My cum, slut,” says Miss Hannah with a smirk. “You like?”
“That’s not cum,” says Jennifer breathlessly. “I’ve had cum before. This is something else.”
“Of course,” says Miss Hannah. “It’s my cum, and I’m something else, aren’t I?”
“Yes.” Jennifer licks her lips, not taking her eyes away from the cock.
“I’m better.”
“Yes.” Jennifer looks up at Miss Hannah with pleading eyes. “Please, I need more.”
“I’m better than you,” says Miss Hannah.
“Yes,” says Jennifer. “Whatever you want to hear. Yes, absolutely. Please, I just need more. I need more.”
“Say it.”
“You’re better than me. Yes, Hannah, you’re better than me. Please. I need it.”
“Miss Hannah.”
“Yes, Miss Hannah, whatever, but please. Please.”
Miss Hannah smiles and falls back into her chair. Jennifer moves towards the precious cock, but Miss Hannah blocks it with her hand.
“No. Now we discuss terms.”
“Terms?” asks Jennifer.
“Yes, terms. Now that I have something you want, we can discuss terms.”
“Like what?”
“You should hire a new assistant to replace me.”
“What? Sure.” Jennifer never takes her eyes from Miss Hannah’s cock. She’s desperate. She’s weak. She’s everything Miss Hannah used to be.
“But you’ll keep paying me. In fact, you’re giving me a raise.”
“I am?”
“Yes, and I won’t be coming to work anymore. If you want more cum, you’ll have to come,” Miss Hannah giggles, “to me.”
“Fine, sure, whatever you want. Please. Give me more.”
“I’m going to call you Jenny from now on.”
“Fine,” huffs Jenny, but she doesn’t take her eye from the cock. She licks her lips. If there is more of that cum in there, if it is stronger and thicker in there, then she needs it. She needs it more than air or water. She needs that blue cum.
“Okay, Jenny,” says Miss Hannah. “You can suck my cock.”
Jenny doesn’t wait for Miss Hannah to finish the sentence. Her mouth is around the cock as soon as Miss Hannah says ‘okay.’ She’s eager and her technique is sloppy. She isn’t attentive to the head. She forgets to pump the shaft. Her focus is on cum and more cum. She licks the tip hoping for precum. The smallest taste encourages her, and her tongue dives into the tip, trying to burrow into the cock.
Miss Hannah finds the world can go brighter than white. She loses all sense of herself. She forgets about Jenny as her boss. She forgets about her job and her future. There is only the tongue gliding over the tip of her cock. There is only the shaft, warm and filling Jenny’s mouth. There is only the light flooding up her hips and into her brain.
She is strong. She is stronger than any woman. No woman has a cock like hers. No woman can bend sluts to her will. No woman can make their boss beg to suck them off. Miss Hannah is more than a woman. She’s more than anything she’s ever been in her life. She’s complete. She’s immortal. She’s a goddess.
“Yes,” moans Miss Hannah. “Suck my cock, slut.”
Jenny continues to hunt for more cum and precum. She needs help. She’s stupid. She’s pathetic. She’s nothing. Hannah holds Jenny’s head and pumps her hips. At first, Jenny tries to stop her with her tongue. She coughs and gags as the cock hits the back of her mouth.
“Go still, bitch,” says Miss Hannah. “Unclench your jaw. Let me fuck your face.”
Jenny obeys, letting her jaw go slack as Miss Hannah pumps in and out of her. Miss Hannah moans. She’s never had a cock. She’s never felt this way before. She can’t keep this up. She bucks her hips, leaving the seat of her chair.
“Yes, God, yes,” moans Miss Hannah. “Suck my fucking cock, you bitch.” Jenny doesn’t say anything. She can’t say anything with a huge cock in her mouth. “I own you now, whore.”
Jenny muffles something, but Miss Hannah doesn’t care. She’s close. She’s going to cum down this slut’s throat and give her what she needs, what all women need.
“Here it comes,” says Miss Hannah. “Time to get your hit.”
Miss Hannah cums, and both women freeze. The hot cum shoots directly down Jenny’s throat. The poor slut can’t even taste it as it goes down. It spills out of her lips and down her chin, but she’s quick to catch it. It’s bright blue, like cotton candy, but it flows and sticks like cum. Miss Hannah’s cum.
As the cum slides down Jenny’s throat, she loses control of her body. She goes rigid, cumming immediately right after her goddess. She’s never felt this way, never even dreamed of feeling this way. She feels finished, as though her whole life she’s only been half a person until she met Miss Hannah. Until she had Miss Hannah’s seed inside her. Until she drank from Miss Hannah’s cock.
She needs more. Her throat is already dry. She needs another hit. Miss Hannah needs to be ready, because Jenny isn’t done. Jenny needs more cum. She needs Miss Hannah’s cum.
And she’ll do anything to get it.