The clock is about to strike midnight, and as you can see the night is just getting started.

It was a fluke really that I found the spell and climbed the ladder high to your family mansion's second storey and cast it confidently through the window, down your long hallway, at your sister getting ready in the far off bathroom. She was there, back from college for Halloween, getting ready for the party. How I wanted to be her! But to my shock, as the air began to swirl and fragment your mom's mother walked into view. Into the line of fire.

I jimmied open the window to retreave the suit, using all of my stealth to drag your besuited grandmother into the closet.

SHIT. This was not the plan.

"Grandma, can you come help me out with my makeup."

DOUBLE SHIT.

I stripped to nothing and dipped my foot into the soft pink velvet, pulling Cynthia suit over my body, feeling it take me in, snug and warm. I stumbled in the closet and heard your sister suddenly silent beyond the door. "Grandma?"

FUCK.

I stretched her face over mine, feeling her lips settle in snuggly over mine, bettering them, and fixed her clothes and opened the door.

"Yes, dear?"

She went to the party. You all did. Our first since graduating high school. Our first collegiate get together. And I stayed home, my mind reeling and twisting at what my plans had come to.

Good god this body. How old is she?

I thought long and hard about what I knew about the spell, for I knew a great deal, and I tried not to touch myself — all the while feeling a slow progression of what I had read about in the old books and scrolls in basement rows of books in the old town library.

The suit would encourage me forward. It was one thing to have your sister's pussy lips lightly massaging my balls all night at the party. Quite another to feel the mature carressing of your grandmother's body hugging the contours of my frame, lightly keeping my cock hard in containment, and yearning lightly at my diminutive male nipples, as if to say — keep going.

It grew hard to deny the call.

I'm your grandma tonight. And my daughter is out of town on business. But my son-in-law is here. . .

Your dad is in shock. But I don't see him fighting me.

There's power in holding it. Every step forward invites amplification of the suit — yes, I read that as well. It yearns an escalation, and when met, it progresses it's invitations.

Deep in this suit one tendril has grown and gained enough power to expand to the size of a soft, lapping, prodding female tongue. And that tongue is yearnfully settled at the base of my ballsac. It lightly laps me occasionally, wet and firm — but giving — working its way lower, giving my little asshole little soft shallow pushes. I expected it — though I never thought I'd get this far. I expected it. . . but I am alarmed at how good it feels. It rounds back and does a figure eight around my balls. I know it's only goal is to take them. To absorb them. If I keep pumping this cock in my hand, the tendril in the suit will firm up, its tip will swell into a cocklike head, it's base will stretch into a veiny shaft of invading pleasure meant only for me. It'll pop right inside of me, and once there it will take hold.

I wanted to go as your sister for halloween. I wanted to wear the suit. But I knew I'd have to be strong, or, the the suit would want to wear me. Oh, fuck. Maybe I want to be worn?

A cock-like bulge presses between my balls and asshole. Oh fuck. It's getting bigger for me. And if it penetrates I'm going to be pinned in. The first penetration. And from there what I do I do? Your grandma's gonna turn me inside out and wear me.

For good.

Two tendrils snake their way around my nipples. Because I'm not doing anything to stop it from happening.

His shocked expression drives me further. You didn't think your mother-in-law would be jacking your cock off tonight, did you? You didn't think the look in her eye would be so enticing.

Fuck, it's going in. Play it cool. God, your grandmother is big. Every inch of her veiny cocklike tendril that presses in makes my cock stiffen up all the more. And now more tendrils have grown in power and are joining in, wrapping around my cock and pumping. Oh, fuck, I'm going to come very soon. If I come, and your daddy comes (and I taste what I've made him make for me), then I'm really doomed.

Tonight I want to be doomed.

I come with him. Both of our orgasms so strong. I moan out in the languid mature moan only your mom's mothers throat could make, bend to take shot after shot in my mouth, and in an instant I feel a million microscopic tendrils shoot out of the veiny reality filling me good. The suit is taking root. It's pussy clutches my crotch and I feel a fault line open in a gush. Oh, fuck. Your grandmother's pussy feels so tight already. It's using me to recover from all it has experienced.

And then I feel it. The thing I knew I would feel.

I feel it astride my balls. The severing of my vas deferens. The gateway to my reproductive will. The two pathways to my testicals. I feel a pinching. It's closing time. Pinching off. And then they fall away. But then a new connection:

Your grandmother's fallopian tubes spring to life, pulling back and taking aim, and then barreling in for a link, plugging into my balls and latching on for good. They snatch my balls apart and I yelp out, feeling pain only for a moment before they unleash a torrent of feminine hormones into me. I'm already your grandma. Like an ambush, estrogen molecules surge in, snapping onto receptors and overriding the last strongholds of my testosterone. As the estrogen takes hold, a euphoric wave washes over me, warm and consuming, like an electric pulse radiating through every cell.

There is a lightness, a tingling, as if my body is expanding and joining. I'm being absorbed from the outside in. Enzymes bathe armys of waiting sperm with unstoppable precision. One by one in their multitude they release their flagellum, their tails to be dispatched by my new feminine bloodcells, their forms rounding and swelling as growth signals bombard them. Stripped of their tails, they clump together, morphing into pink orbs, pulsing with new energy. They settle, fortified by cytoplasmic reserves.

And immediately there is an eerie stillness in the chambers of my testes. What had been a factory of constant motion transformed into a sanctuary. A sanctuary of readiness. No longer pursuing.

Waiting.

Nudged gently from its follicle, my first egg breaks free. Released into the fallopian tube with a newfound purpose. Beginning my descent, drifting slowly down the unfamiliar path, ready for invasion.

A sharp, spreading tenderness spreads across my chest as my nipples are invaded by yearning tendrils, pulling your grandmothers tits firmly against me and incorporating them to me. My new ovaries sing. Estrogen, progesterone, and prolactin flood my system, unlocking a dormant blueprint as tissue beneath my skin thickens and branches. Ducts spiral through the tissue being added to mine, forming delicate channels that connect. Veins surge beneath my freckled skin, thickening to feed the growing masses that are mine now, veins branching out in a vivid, sprawling network to sustain my new glands. Fat joins and moves and redistributes, layering itself across my chest, adding volume and softness and countour to me as my body welcomes pounds of new weight spread between both my new breasts.

Undeniable pull.

Muscles in my back and shoulders strain under this new, unfamiliar load, each breast inviting alveolar tissue, my body being siphoned of it's youth, and my youth being added to hers. There's no suit anymore. And what's left of me is treated more like a battery of potential, a male invader, that in no time will be expended and converted. My melons plump out as they prepare to serve a biological purpose I had never anticipated when I was standing on the ladder. My areolas widen to celebrate — my chest is now a fully functioning network of mammary glands, alive and thrumming with power. And my youth. I feel curvaceous and mammalian to my core. My new titties fire online, knowing they could have another chance at producing warm batches of my own freshly pumped milk.

Good morning.

Who would think a little giving in — and a dollop of come — would do this?

It's November 1st.

I guess I'm never returning this costume.

Fuck! To think I was aiming for your sister.

Well — this is a much better situation.

As I inspect the amalgamation of me and your grandma in it's glory, your dad rounds the corner and drops his coffee to the floor.

The mug falls on its side and spills its contents. It soaks into the carpet outside the bathroom.

"Hi. . ."

"Hi."

I think about that egg I know is waiting. My clit stirs in my leggings.

.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

.

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