The Body Sculptor

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"Jimmy! Jimmy, it's me" Carl jabbered as soon as his flatmate picked up "I know  I don't sound like it but you've got to believe me, I'm Carl. That massues you recommended, she's changing me, molding my body like clay. I fell asleep on the table and when I woke up I already had tits! I know, I know I sound like a crazy person. God help me, I sound like a crazy woman!"

"Ah! Fuck!" He groaned feeling his flesh shift and flow once again "She's changing my ass now. Jesus it feels huge."

"Listen, I need you to come and get me out of here." Carl continued a rising note of panic in his soft soprano voice "I can't get off this damn table, it's like fucking voodoo or something. I can't make her stop and when I ask her to let me go she just smiles and says she needs to get me ready for my husband! Please, I don't know how much longer I've got, She wants me to wear a dress now and... oh god, no! Please not that. You can't take my cock too. Stop! No! I don't want a pussy! Aaah!"

The voice on the phone trailed off into muffled sounds that might have been sobbing or might have been a woman in the throws of a tumultuous orgasm. 

Jimmy grinned to himself as the line went dead. It sounded like the hefty fee he'd paid the body sculptor had been money well spent. He was sure that Carl truly deserved the fate Jimmy had chosen for him but he was confident that the new Carla would make a better wife than she'd ever been a roommate. 

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