As Jill Valentine, recently female (and morally right) and now quite decidedly not, gave her cock a few good shakes to let the last stubborn droplets of spent semen fall where they may on the bar's floor, she tried to right her mind as to what had just happened. The memories from before, before she entered, before she meet the pink-haired woman passed out from liquor and some truly outstanding sex, were a blur. She'd ridden hard on her bike (or had she?), entered with every intent on putting the goons at this establishment in their place as to what happens when you don't pay protection money (try and run a prostitution ring in her city).
"Ugh," the more she thought the more her head pounded. Those phantasmal memories of the other, the other-her faded but left an impression. One of overwhelming gratitude that that no-dick no-fun bitch was long gone. She hadn't her curves (that they were padded with some fake augmentation only suited a badass dickgirl bad-cop all the more) not her long hard rod. And somehow, for some impossible reason she felt that the woman (or at least as much as she was one anyway) behind her was responsible for this.
"That makes no damn sense," Jill thought. "People don't just grow dicks and tits because they get fucked in the ass!"
But she couldn't deny the strange sense of gratitude she felt. One that had her acting most against her (new) nature. Normally she'd have left the pinkette behind to suffer what consequences might come from the recent brawl, but she just couldn't.
"'Sides, anyone that can fuck me like that I need to keep in contact with."
So she fiddled with her skirt a bit, hiding the softening now flaccid penis she sported and the fact that her panties had been quite ruined and left her going commando for the rest of night, and hefted Poison up on to one shoulder. Carrying her out of the bar and into the night.
***
Poison awoke some hours later. Her head pounding, her temples pressed within and without. She swore she hand't drank nearly that much, but for some reason she felt positively plastered. The room swam as she stood up, stumbling into the nearby bathroom. Barely aware she was in seedy motel till she was draining her trouser snake.
A few splashes of water on to her face and she felt more like herself. But between the swore head and the swore cock, she must have had some fun... even if it was blur.
"Wish I could remember wha-hey there..." Poison said, walking back into the room and seeing a post-it note on the tv.
Had great time, lover girl. If you ever wanna hang out again with another well-hung lady look me up some time.
I bet you could show me some tricks...
-Jill Valentine
It was still fuzzy, but Poison was sure she'd had a whirlwind bit of sex... in a bar? Or an alley.
Though she could swear the chick had been... a chick.
"Must have really drank too much."
Sat Jun 08 19:53:07 2019