Chapter 1: A Twisted Arrival
Dorothy Gale had always been a storm of contradictions, a tempest of raw, untamed desire wrapped in a deceptively sweet Kansas exterior. When the tornado ripped her from her mundane life and hurled her into the Technicolor wonderland of Oz, she felt something awaken inside her—a primal, throbbing need that had been suppressed for far too long. She wasn’t just a farm girl anymore; she was a force, a shemale with a hunger that bordered on feral. And as she stumbled out of her crashed house, her eyes locked on the lifeless body of the Wicked Witch of the East, crushed beneath the rubble, a wicked smirk curled her lips.
'Well, damn,' Dorothy muttered, her voice husky with anticipation, adjusting the bulge in her denim overalls. 'Looks like I’ve got myself a welcome gift.'
She knelt beside the witch, her fingers tracing the cold, green skin with a perverse reverence. The Munchkins, tiny and trembling, watched in horror from a distance, but Dorothy didn’t give a damn. She was a pervert, an onanist who’d spent countless nights stroking herself to twisted fantasies back in Kansas. This? This was her new playground. Her cock twitched, already hard under the rough fabric, as she leaned closer, her breath hot against the witch’s lifeless ear.
'Bet you were a real bitch in life,' she purred, her tone dripping with dark humor. 'But death looks good on you, sugar. Let’s see if you can still make a girl feel welcome.'
Her hands roamed lower, unbuttoning her overalls with a practiced flick. The Munchkins gasped, but Dorothy shot them a glare that could’ve melted steel. 'Mind your own damn business, short stuff,' she snapped, her voice sharp as a whip. 'Unless you wanna join in, skedaddle.'
They scattered like leaves in a storm, leaving Dorothy alone with her prize. Her cock sprang free, throbbing and eager, as she positioned herself over the witch’s body. She was horny as hell, her mind a haze of lust, and she didn’t care about morals or decency. This was Oz, a land of magic and madness, and she was gonna claim it one wicked fuck at a time.
Her breath hitched as she pressed against the cold flesh, a shiver of anticipation racing down her spine. 'Let’s make some magic, sweetheart,' she growled, her voice low and dangerous. She was sweating now, her body tense with need, her pussy wet with desire even as her cock demanded release. The air around her seemed to crackle, charged with the raw, dripping heat of her arousal.
Just as she was about to thrust, a shadow loomed over her. She froze, her head snapping up to meet the piercing gaze of Glinda, the Good Witch of the North, floating down in a bubble of shimmering light. The blonde beauty’s eyes widened, but her lips curled into a knowing, almost amused smirk.
'Well, well, Dorothy Gale,' Glinda drawled, her voice like honey laced with venom. 'I see you’ve made quite the... impression already. Care to explain why you’re about to desecrate a corpse on your first day in Oz?'
Dorothy didn’t flinch, her grin feral as she stood, her cock still hard and unapologetic. 'Just breakin’ in the place, blondie,' she shot back, wiping sweat from her brow. 'Got a problem with that, or you here to offer somethin’ better?'
Glinda’s laugh was sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade. 'Oh, darling, you’ve got no idea what you’ve stumbled into. But if it’s a ride you’re after, I might just have something worth your while. Drop the dead weight and follow me. Unless you’re too busy playing necromancer?'
Dorothy’s eyes gleamed with challenge, her body still panting with unspent lust. 'Lead the way, witch. But I warn ya, I don’t play nice.'
Glinda’s smirk widened as she beckoned with a flick of her wand. 'Good. Neither do I.'
And with that, Dorothy knew she was in for one hell of a journey—one that promised to be as explosive as the storm that brought her here.
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