Buffy Beaten update

Wakefulness came only slowly to Willow. Her eyelids felt thick and took their time in moving, with a conscious effort required to open them. There was a pounding on the door. It forced Willow to respond to it, leaving behind the comfortable satiation of her rest. 

She shifted herself heavily across the bed, almost surprised to find herself in her own body, her own familiar sheets. She ran her hands over her body, trying to attach herself to its foreign soil, wake up to its reality instead of the fantasies that had filled her dreams.

She remembered herself, Cordelia, Xander, and being on her hands and knees, looking over her shoulder past her own naked ass to see Conrad as he battered her with his huge cock. She screamed, pleaded, moaned—came, as his potent semen filled her up as she’d never been full before. 

A dream.

But when Willow reached down between her legs, she felt a glue-like residue matting her pubic hair. Somehow it felt realer than her numb, satisfied pussy. But the sex itself still seemed so unreal. Had she really done it with Conrad or was one of her fantasies of Xander actually fact? It couldn’t be Cordelia—as surreal as those memories felt, not even Cordy could… could creampie someone as she had been. 

Willow wondered if she might be pregnant. She shuddered. Her mom had Plan B—she would take some, no matter who it was that had fucked her.

The knocking kept going. Willow pulled herself off her mattress, damp as she was, and shrugged on her robe. She walked unsteadily to the door, torn between wondering what had happened and almost not wanting to know. Better it stayed a wet dream. If she wasn’t a virgin…

She shook her head as she opened the door. Xander barely seemed to care about her now. If by some miracle they did have sex, how could he care about some membrane she did or didn’t have?

“There you are, Will,” Buffy said from the porch. “I thought we were going to get breakfast.”

“Oh… sorry…” Willow pulled the robe closed over her breasts. Even Buffy felt a little tawdry just then. “I guess I kinda overslept.”

“Overslept?” Buffy demanded. “We’ve got thirty minutes until school.”

“Oh... wow…” Willow should’ve felt shocked—she’d never slept so late in her life, not even on weekends. But it was hard to bring herself to care. Vampires and demons didn’t seem to matter; why should something like high school? 

“Willow, are you alright?” Buffy asked, now scrutinizing Willow, who had always seemed so open and honest that Buffy felt like she could pick the thoughts right out of her brain. Now the redhead seemed entirely closed off.

Willow walked away from the door. As Buffy let herself in and closed the door behind her, Willow sunk tiredly onto the couch. The robe rode up her thighs, revealing their creaminess marred by exerted bruises, like Buffy after a hard training session. Buffy tried not to notice.

“Willow,” Buffy said, “do you need help or something? I could cut class, at least my first period. I’ll just tell Conrad to go home.”

“Conrad?”

“My mom’s new boyfriend. He gave me a ride over.”

Willow stared at Buffy blankly, feeling something creeping up her spine. She was so unfamiliar with it that she didn’t know if it was a chill or… some kind of excitement. Her whole body felt just that mixed up. 

It couldn’t be the same man. It couldn’t be.

“I’ll go tell him,” Buffy continued. “You wait right there.”

When Buffy came back, the front door again soundly shut behind her, Willow was still there on the couch, seemingly further disconnected from the world around her. Like she’d been painted some color that wasn’t in the world’s spectrum and now it was drying, setting in. Becoming permanent.

“Willow, are you alright?” Buffy insisted.

Willow came back from wherever she was. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

But it was so obvious to Buffy that she was different that it was hard to believe there wasn’t something wrong. Her robe had separated over her carelessly parted thighs again. Buffy could see the reddish-gold curls of her pubic hair. She walked over to Willow, discreetly pulling her robe back over her.

“Babe,” Buffy cooed, stroking Willow’s face tenderly. “You’ve got to pull yourself together. If Xander saw you like this, he’d have a seizure.”

Willow looked into Buffy’s eyes and remembered that Buffy had been there too in the dream, if only in feeling. The sexy, sexual girl that Willow had wanted to be, feeling like her as she did unforgivable things with Conrad and encouraged him to do unforgivable things to her. 

She remembered all of it, Conrad behind her, changing her tender body into something she didn’t have words for it, both it and what was being done to it totally indescribable. It was all true, it had happened, she had to admit it and the admission flooded over her like a tidal wave.

Buffy saw Willow’s dazzling amber eyes twist up in her head and become white as the redhead fainted dead away.

***

Buffy tried not to pay too much attention to Willow’s small breasts floating among the bubbles on the surface of the bathwater, or even the silken-haired womanhood that she was soaping. Cleaning away the wispy, white streamers that leaked into the hot water, which Buffy told herself could not possibly be what they appeared to be. 

She wanted not to let herself think as she tenderly soaped and washed Willow’s body. But how could Buffy not notice the raw redness of Willow’s labia, or how the clitoris swelled and throbbed as if inviting Buffy’s cleanliness to become something else?

Willow came to feeling clean and cozy. Warm water surrounding her. Pure. Fresh as the tender, caring hands on her body. 

“Seemed like you needed… needed to be a little more clean than you were,” Buffy said, noticing Willow’s attention on her. “Is there something you want to tell me, Will?”

Willow looked at her friend with clouded eyes full of emotion. She let Buffy kiss her forehead and whisper in her ear.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Willow shook her head. “I don’t.” She looked down at her sore, defiled body. “I just realized… I am something. Even next to Cordelia, I’m something. Even next to you. And I can have any man I want.”

“Of course you can, Will,” Buffy said, cradling Willow’s head to her shoulder. 

Willow looked into Buffy’s eyes questioningly. “Have you ever…?”

Their eyes locked in something almost like understanding. “No,” Buffy said. “I’ve just… wanted to. Really badly, sometimes.”

“You will,” Willow said. “Something’s happened now. We can’t keep pretending we aren’t what we are. We’re dirty cunts and men do things to dirty cunts…”

Buffy held her until she was ready to get dressed. She would’ve stayed with her, but Willow shooed her out. Buffy could only imagine the privacy she must’ve wanted, especially after Buffy had violated it—and whatever had happened the night before.

Willow felt strong and wonderful, her sex drive humming away—lavishly fulfilled and ready for more now. After she dressed, she found she really did feel fine. She was suddenly dancing around, happy for no reason she could fathom. Her womb glowed with feeling where it had been numb before. Conrad had done something for her, in his savage animal way, that couldn’t have been accomplished by dithering and intellectualizing. And now she wanted to do it herself.

She set off for Xander’s place.