MidReal Story

Enchanted Metamorphosis: A Librarian's Seductive Transformation

Scenario: young skinny librian finds a book that turns her into a dumb bimbofied big titted sex pot
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young skinny librian finds a book that turns her into a dumb bimbofied big titted sex pot
I was in the library’s archives, looking for an old book that a patron had requested.
The archives were a mess, and I had been looking for the book for over an hour.
I was about to give up when I saw it: a small, leather-bound book hidden behind a stack of papers.
I picked it up and blew off the dust.
The cover was blank, but when I opened it, I saw that it was filled with strange symbols and writing in a language that I didn’t recognize.
I flipped through the pages, but there were no pictures or illustrations to give me any clues as to what the book was about.
It looked like some kind of ancient text, but I had no idea what it was doing in our archives.
I decided to take the book with me and show it to Mark and Sarah, my coworkers at the library.
Maybe they would have some idea of what it was.
I put the book in my bag and went back to my desk to finish my shift.
It was my shift to work the archives, and I had been trying to find a specific book for an elderly patron who had asked for it.
The book was old, but he had given me the title and the call number, so I was sure I would be able to find it.
I’d been working at the library for almost a year, and I’d been in the archives a few times before, but I still wasn’t sure where every book was.
All I knew was that it was a big mess back there, with books and papers scattered all over the place.
I didn’t like going back there, not just because it was so cluttered, but also because there was a really creepy janitor who worked there, and I didn’t like being back there alone with him.
I didn’t know why they even needed a janitor for that part of the library, since it was off-limits to most people and only a few employees even had access to it.
I had been working at the library long enough that they trusted me to go back there when I needed to, so I had a key to get in to the archives, and no one ever questioned me about what I was doing when I went in there.
When I got to the shelves where the patron’s book was supposed to be, it wasn’t there, or anywhere near where it should have been.
The shelves in the archives weren’t very well organized, and sometimes books were just thrown on random shelves because they didn’t fit on the normal shelves where they were supposed to go.
After spending about an hour looking for the book on the regular shelves in vain, I decided to check the archives even though I dreaded going back there.
Luckily, the janitor wasn’t around when I went into the room, but he’d probably pop up at some point when he saw that someone had entered the area.
I found the shelf where the book was supposed to be and started looking for it.
There were papers everywhere, stacked up in piles on the floor and shoved onto shelves.
It was taking me forever to sift through them all, and I was starting to worry that maybe the book wasn’t in here either.
Just when I was about to give up, though, I saw it: The book I’d been looking for was shoved behind a stack of old newspapers.
I picked it up and checked the call number again—this was definitely the book the patron wanted.
But then I noticed something else: There was another book behind the one I’d just taken off the shelf.
This one wasn’t what I was looking for—it was much smaller and thinner than the one I’d been sent to find—and it didn’t have a label or call number on its spine.
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I made my way back to my desk without anyone else noticing me carrying two books, which was good, since I didn’t want to get in trouble for taking an unauthorized book out of the archives with me.
I’d never seen a book like this before, and I couldn’t help but wonder what it was doing in there.
If it was supposed to be part of the library’s collection, why didn’t it have a call number on it?
And why had no one else noticed it before?
I could understand how it might have been missed if it were just a scrap of paper or something, but it was a whole book, just like any other book in our collection, only smaller.
And this one looked even older than the one I’d been sent to find, with yellowed pages and tattered corners that indicated it had been much loved—or much abused—over time.
I knew I shouldn’t take books from the archives without permission, but I was curious about this one, and I didn’t think anyone would mind since it seemed to have been forgotten back there for who knew how long.
The janitor didn’t pay me any attention as I passed him on my way out of the archives, which wasn’t surprising since he usually didn’t speak to anyone unless he absolutely had to in order to do his job.
But even so, I still made sure to give him as wide of a berth as I could as I tried to sneak out of there as quickly as possible.
When I got back to my desk, I put both books on my desk so I could take a closer look at them.
The one I’d been searching for had an attractive cover with an intricate design in gold leaf on its spine.
It looked like it had been well cared for over the years, unlike its smaller companion that looked much more worse for wear.
Its cover was blank with no writing on it at all, except for unreadable symbols etched into its leather surface.
When I opened up the small book, I saw that it contained page after page of writing in some kind of foreign language, or maybe even code—there were letters and symbols, but they didn’t look like anything I’d ever seen before, so I couldn’t tell which it was.
I tried to read the writing, but it was hopeless—this was all gibberish to me, and the more I read it, the more it made my head hurt.
When I looked more closely at the pages, I saw that there were smaller symbols and writing on the margins of the pages, too, like notes or commentary, but it was in the same language, so it didn’t help me understand what it was about.
I flipped through the pages, but nothing in this book seemed to be in English or any other language that I knew.
It was all just gibberish to me.
Eventually, I gave up trying to read it and pushed the book aside so I could work on cataloging the other book for the patron who’d requested it.
Unlike this one, the requested book was in English and was part of our normal collection.
It was one of those classic works of literature that everyone has to read in high school or college, so it was familiar to me and easy to describe in our database.
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I couldn’t stop thinking about how weird it was and where it could have come from.
It was definitely something that Mark and Sarah would know offhand, and if they didn’t, they’d be able to find out for sure.
I’d ask them about it as soon as Mark was done reading his novel and Sarah was finished organizing her special collections.
Mark Johnson sat at a table next to my desk reading one of his favorite novels by an author whose name I couldn’t even pronounce.
He was tall with glasses and had a kind face topped off by disheveled brown hair that hung in his eyes like he’d just rolled out of bed.
His deep brown eyes were always so intense and focused when he read or talked about something he was interested in.
And he was always eager to share his latest discovery or theory with anyone who would listen.
It was probably why he had such an easy time making friends despite being shy and awkward around strangers.
He looked up at me as I approached.
“Hey, Em.” He cleared his throat.
“I don’t think you’ve met this author before,” he said as he held up the book so I could see it better.
“He’s kind of obscure.”
I shook my head.
“I can’t say that I have.
What’s this one about?”
“Urban decay and alienation in a post-modern society,” Mark answered.
“You should borrow it when I’m done.
I think you’ll like it.”
I forced a smile.
“Thanks, but I’m more into romance novels myself.”
My smile broadened as I teased him.
Mark shook his head and laughed.
“You’re hopeless,” he said.
“Just like Sarah and her brooches.”
Sarah Lee was another one of my friends and coworkers.
She had short curly hair that she dyed a different color every month or so depending on her mood.
Today it was purple, but who knew what color it would be next week.
It was always fun to see what she would come up with next.
She also wore a lot of vintage dresses with petticoats that she found at thrift stores or online.
Those were just two of her many obsessions in life.
She was a bit on the short side and had a curvy figure that was almost the complete opposite of mine.
But when Sarah dressed up, she looked like a throwback to another era—like one of those pinup girls from World War II with bright green eyes that could catch you off guard if you weren’t paying attention to her sharp wit.
Today she was busy organizing the latest additions to our collection of rare books that we kept locked away in our special collections room.
And as usual, they were beautiful with gold leaf on their spines and intricately designed covers.
Sarah liked to organize things so they were all just right before they were filed away.
But if I was going to show them this book, I was going to have to interrupt her.
“Hey, guys,” I said as I walked up to them.
“Sorry to bother you.
But I found something weird in the archives.”
I held up the small book for Mark and Sarah to see.
Mark set his novel down on the table next to him.
The smile left his face as he studied it.
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