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Kal slowly walked around the butterfly girl as though a general inspecting a troop. She had her wings wrapped around her like a robe the same way as when they first met. As he stepped around to her front again, he leaned in until he was almost nose to nose with the butterfly girl. The poor girl sucked in a breath as he got close, her pupils darted around unsure if she was supposed to stare back at him or if that was being rude.“You have amazing eyes,” Kal said.Bea exhaled loudly, not having realized she was holding her breath, “Wh… What?”“Exactly what I said; You have amazing eyes. They really are quite beautiful, especially up close.”“Um, I’ve never had someone call my eyes beautiful before.”An indignant “Hey!” came from Aradelle’s flower.“You said they were pretty, not beautiful,” Bea called out to the alarune.Aradelle conceded the point but still stuck her tongue out at the butterfly girl before going back to grooming.“So, what brings you here?” Kal said motioning that she should. Not only could I feelthem in my hands but I could also feel a pair of hands grip my newform. I looked down to see my small hands cupping the pair of whatappeared to be two well formed perky b cups. The sensation was so oddyet somewhat comforting. They felt good in my hands and my hands feltgood against them. I looked back into the mirror and realised that Icouldn't get a good look at myself as the mirror was now higher up thewall. Wait, the mirror wasn't higher, I was shorter! What else haschanged? I turned from the bathroom and moved quickly back into thebedroom. I stepped in front of the full-length mirror that I hadleaning against the wall. The light from the bathroom was cast throughthe open door and let in enough light to allow me to view the new shapethat was now standing in front of the mirror.I watched as what appeared to be me in the mirror drop my jaw and starein amazement. There was a hot naked brunette standing there holdingonto her tits. "Is that me?" A soft whisper came.
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‘Whip me and get it over with.’ ‘It will never be over.’ It sinks in. Pettie is faced with the unknowable. heroics are no match for the forever. Faced with it, discomfort wins: ‘Please lower my arms. I hurt dreadfully.’ ‘What else did you expect?’ ‘I know.’ Pettie speaks without any of her usual sarcasms. ‘But I have to ask. You might be merciful. How am I to know? Please lower my arms. I’ll still be helpless.’ She flung tears from her face by a vigorous shake of the head. She was learning. She should learn more. ‘How many strokes would you ask for to gain the relief yoe seek?’ I ask callously. She hears my brutal question with joy. ‘Any number you wish, sir.’ ‘Why call me sir?’ ‘It is a title of respect. I have supposed it required.’ ‘Call me master.’ ‘Yes master.’ I could sense her loathing. But she kept it from her voice. ‘Well, how many?’ How cruel a question! ‘Five, please, master?’ her voice was a question mark. How vividly her mind had computed. To ask for as few as possible.

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