Hannah Expandah
Chapter 7
“Brenda, have you seen Hannah?” Ms. Buckland asked.
“Um… no, Ms. Buckland. I have no idea where she is,” she admitted sheepishly. She hadn’t exactly meant to rat out her friend. She just answered honestly by reflex.
Ms. Buckland clicked her tongue as she regarded the long line of volunteers that had gathered outside for hair styling.
“What a shame. That girl has some promise, but she would never be able to handle finicky celebrity clientele with her attitude. More practice for you, though. If you keep at this, I may even hire you into my agency when you graduate.”
“Wow, really!?” Brenda gushed.
“Careful with the scissors,” Ms. Buckland brought her back down to earth.
“Eep!”
Her volunteer client grimaced in fear at what was happening above her.
Suddenly, the little salon went dark as the sunlight streaming in from the windows was blotted over by a long shadow. The sound of a sudden, coordinated gasp of shock preceded a loud, guttural moan from the crowd of students in line outside. Moaning, gasping, and twitching, they all collapsed onto the concrete.
Hannah almost had to bend over to fit her new height through the little doorway.
“Miss?! Who are you? What is…”
Ms. Buckland’s voice caught in her throat.
The brunette goddess standing before them put Aphrodite to shame. They should tear down every statue of every fertility and love goddess ever, and replace them with the sultry, indomitable vixen that was standing before Ms. Buckland’s eyes. Those long limbs, her thick, lustrous hair, her striking facial features on her perfectly made up face… It was unlike anything Ms. Buckland had ever witnessed. Like staring into the sun. Going blind from this marvelous creature’s eclipsing beauty.
“It’s me, Ms. Buckland. Hannah Michaels.”
Hannah’s silken voice tickled her teacher’s ears. All of Ms. Buckland’s fine hairs stood up straight as she felt goosebumps crawl along her body from the lusty promises that Hannah’s little sentence seemed to imply. A raging undercurrent of lust and arousal coursed through her limp body as she continued to stare at the feminine perfection standing in the doorway.
Hannah blinked in confusion. Wasn’t Ms. Buckland supposed to be much larger than her? Turned out that Hannah absolutely dwarfed her insufferable teacher in every dimension possible.
“Hannah Michaels…” Ms. Buckland moaned, her vision now permanently glued to the swells of Hannah’s perfect chest beneath that surgical gown. “You’re… late…”
“Oh shush,” Hannah ordered.
Ms. Buckland fell silent.
“I don’t know why I ever thought you were such a threat to me. Looks like you’re totally my slave already!”
“I’m… your slave…” Ms. Buckland processed her new role in life. She fell to her knees and began to crawl toward her new mistress, grinding her thighs together and trying to relieve her molten need.
“Stop right there, slave. Why don’t you come for me? I need to talk to Brenda.”
Ms. Buckland’s arms gave out as her body collapsed under the unbearable weight of Hannah’s crushing beauty. She flopped to the floor in an undignified, quivering heap, spurting her juices like she’d never known before.
“Well, well, well. Here we are, Brenda.”
“Eep…” squeaked the girl who had been getting her hair styled. It was a complete disarray now, what with Brenda’s unsteady hand shaking it into a goopy, product-soaked mess.
Hannah turned her imperious green gaze onto the girl and flashed her breasts at the little volunteer. Her squeak turned into an outright cry of carnal joy until her throat grew dry as she passed out from sheer pleasure.
Brenda was gasping too, processing her own impossibly powerful orgasm. Hannah covered herself back up.
“Why did I ever think you were a match for me…?” Hannah mused.
“Hannah…,” Brenda panted. “What… happened to you? What did you do?”
“What do you mean? I’ve had loyal, enslaved pets my whole life. Kayla, Mary, those doctors at the BetterBeauty clinic, all those little bystanders…”
“BetterBeauty clinic!? What’s that!” Brenda had never heard of such a thing. She dug her fingers into the salon chair, trying to hang on for dear life against Hannah’s irrepressible sexuality.
“I dunno. Some lying place where they said they could make you more beautiful. They tried to tell me I’d already been there before. It was so weird.”
“You… slaves… Hannah! What did they do to you!?” Brenda’s mind was racing a mile a minute now, enough to distract her from Hannah’s nascent goddesshood. The girl seemed to be transforming before her eyes even as they spoke! Before it was too late, Brenda focused her will and buried her head into her client’s goopy hair, preventing her from watching Hannah becoming even more impossibly sexy.
“I dunno. Nothing. Took my money.” She neglected to mention that it was her father’s money they’d taken.
“You… you weren’t like this before! Don’t you think it’s weird!? All your… slaves, as you called them, are from here! Isn’t this all recent stuff?!”
“Oh! Hmm… you make a good point. But you could just be lying to me. We’ve always been rivals,” Hannah pondered.
“Rivals!? What the hell are you talking about!? How could I rival… you!? As you are now! I can barely hang on!”
Hannah tried to process Brenda’s logic. It rang true. As she tried to recall recent events, fuzzy and unfocused images drifted through her mind. She couldn’t remember clearly.
“You know… you may have a point,” Hannah conceded.
“What kind of operation was this anyway!? This isn’t normal!!”
“I do recall reading some side effects. Can’t remember what they are though. You think… you think they really might have done something?”
“Yeah! Yeah! Hannah, stop! We gotta figure this out! Don’t… um… enslave... me… please?” Brenda was ambivalent as she put in her little request. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to get enslaved. Her juicy, throbbing pussy certainly didn’t mind.
“Hmm,” Hannah mulled it over.
Silence overtook the room. Everyone else had fallen unconscious from Hannah’s crushing loveliness. The only one making any sounds now was Brenda, hanging on by a tiny thread.
The chair leather squeaked from the beautician-in-training’s head bobbing up and down, synchronized with her ragged breathing.. The arrhythmic, irregular squish from between Brenda’s thighs was clearly audible. Her free will hung in the balance.
“Eh, nah,” Hannah decided. “Come for me, little slave.”
Hannah’s little sonorous command was enough to dominate and tear away Brenda’s free will instantly. As Brenda sobbed in pure bliss, thanking her mistress for freeing her from the shackles of everyday life, Hannah’s sexuality surged anew with more fire and vibrancy, her breasts expanding larger as their perverted influence ascended even further...
Epilogue
Hannah’s phone buzzed. It was her dad. 50 missed calls! She answered.
“Hannah! Another charge!?”
“Don’t worry about it, daddy.”
Her voice, replicated through cell phone towers, clawed into his pliable mind. Her dulcet yet forceful tone smashed away any objections he had toward his daughter’s actions.
“Yes, Hannah,” he droned.
Hannah’s eyes glowed. Father had always been so submissive toward her.