Posted by: Admin on Tuesday, July 30, 2002 - 01:32 AM 
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The Fortune Teller
Part 4
by Lorna Samuels
Abruptly, our hands were free. Yanking mine as if from a flame (it was almost that hot), I grabbed Angie's warm hand as we both stood. She was oddly reticent.
Let's get outta this loony bin!" I urged.
Ange's concerned gaze was focused on Lady Corinne as she hesitated. "That's the strangest reading I've ever seen. I hope she's okay."
I pulled at her hand again. "She's fine, Honey. Now, let's go!"
With a flurry of petticoats and clomp of cowboy boots, I ushered Angela from the gloomy tent and down the path, hearing the distant rumble of an approaching storm as we crunched along the gravel trail. Then I noticed Angie's reluctant progress.
Well, maybe humor would get her going. "Darn!" I cursed at the sky in as girlish a manner as I could muster and stamped my foot with mock petulance. "Now it's gonna rain and mess up my pretty hairdo, to say nothing of our costumes and the Party. Oh p00!"
It worked. Angie grinned, but then looked back toward the dark tent. "What did she mean by a gift and a sign, Jase?" she puzzled.
"Ha! How should I know? You're the believer, you tell me," I answered as we moved too slowly toward the garden's edge. "But explain it to me on the way home." Her sluggish pace was unnerving. Yet, why was I so anxious to leave? Checking the man's watch Ange wore, the digits showed that it wasn't quite twelve o'clock.
Trying to urge Angela along, I trilled, "Honey, come on! Let's get home and out of these disguises, pppllllleeeezzzz. I don't want tits anymore!"
Now I knew I'd finally broken through when she laughed heartily. "Hahaha.. Yea, I guess they are a bit of a burden, aren't they?' A clipped finger poked playfully at one of my fleshy hillocks, hard enough for me to really feel it. "But you get used to them."
Finally, we were making hurried progress toward the trellis-tunnel in the hedge and the Party beyond. There was a distant flash, followed by a low rumble.
"I don't wanna get used to them," I retorted. "You said we could go home tonight and take everything off, and I'm holding you to your promise. I'm afraid that if we wait much longer this stuff will never come off. Then we'll BOTH be in a real pickle of a fix!"
Angela's voice was low and hesitant. "But we can't fix our voices."
I stopped dead in my tracks, almost twisting an ankle on precarious heels. "Huh! oh, .jeez... I HAD gotten used to THAT! Can Sonya fix it, I hope?"
"Well, said they could undo everything they did, and that was definitely part of what they did." Unfortunately, Ange didn't seem all that thoroughly convinced, but I let it slide. Better that we take that as it comes. First, we had to get home.
Hand in hand, we approached the vine-covered trellis that framed the garden's only entrance/exit. Just as we entered the richly aromatic shadow beneath the crosshatched metal latticework, I remembered something Lady Corinne had said.
Halting once more, this time within the romantic fragrance of the ornate tunnel, I asked Angie, "What was that Corinne said about the witching hour?" Together we checked her watch, and said in unison, "NOW?"
What happened next we found out about only later from witnesses.
For us, there was a blinding flash, followed by total unconscious blackness.
A huge bolt of lighting had struck and engulfed the ironwork trellis around us. Fortunately, the intricate crosshatched design diffused the deadly megavolt power. Still, for a split second we were caught in a spiderweb pattern of arching energy before the tremendously powerful blue-white voltage dissipated, rendering us both unconscious in its wake. Yet we showed no outward ill effects from the jolt, not even the proverbial smoking clothing.
From a great distance I heard The Chief mixing pronouns. "Is she... he ..a..alive, Doc?"
Cool fingers grasped my limp wrist as a gravelly voice said, "Yea, he's coming 'round. They both cot zapped pretty hard, but neither seems the worse for it, even though they were both clinically dead for at least ten minutes. How or why they revived I'll never know, but they did!"
My eyes fluttered open to the fuzzy reddish image of Doc Wagner, the studio 'bones', leaning over me. I was lying on a padded lawn chair near the open-sided buffet tent. Ange-as-me lay nearby.
"It's alright, Jason," Doc greeted, patting my crimson-tipped fingers in what he probably thought was a reassuring gesture. "You'll be okay. You and Angela took a nasty dose of nature's power, so you might feel a bit weak and disoriented. That'll pass if you take it easy for a spell. Just relax and rest here for a while." Somehow my fuzzy vision made my hands appear more slender, softer.
"Hey Doc?" The Chief asked while leaning over Doc's shoulder and once again ogling my chest. "Shouldn't you take them in to the hospital or something?"
Doc turned away and faced Murtelli. "Naw, I don't think so. They seem to be recovering quite nicely. Let 'em stay where they are and rest for a few minutes, then get someone to drive them home. After that shock, they should probably take a few days of R&R. But I want to see them about midweek to make sure no lasting damage was done." Rumor had it that 'Doc' was only just barely competent, and avoided hospitals and REAL doctors religiously. But he was also one of Murtelli oldest and closest friends, and that was all the credential he needed in his present job. Needless to say, I was less than pleased at being his patient, but in this, as in so many other things lately, I had little choice.
"01< Doc, you got it," The Boss agreed. He turned to the small crowd gathered loosely around us. "They're okay now, folks. Just a bit groggy. Let's go about having a good time and give them a rest." Aside, he gestured to the butler. "Andrew, see that the Delaney's are driven home when they're up to it." Then he too was off to do his hosting duties.
We were left alone.
When I tried to sit up an overpowering dizziness gripped me and nausea welled up. I lay back down QUICKLY as a confusion of sensations flitted at the edges of perception, almost drowned by the noxious queasiness and vertigo. The pressure on my midsection and crotch was noticeably reduced, but I still wore the tight saloon-girl costume. My hips were too heavy, more so than before, and my chest felt bloated and restrained.
My image in the adjoining lounger was unchanged, eyes open but staring at some unknown cloud in the night sky. Looking up, I noticed that stars were out. Where was the storm? I hadn't thought we'd been out that long.
"You okay?" I queried. My voice hadn't lost its girlishness, that was certain.
The distant gaze slowly turned and, with some effort, focused on me. "Yea, I guess so," said the deep but strained bass, the almost-smile lopsided. "That shot we took didn't undo Sonya's work, did it? Our voices still fit our outsides."
"Maybe we better ask her about that before we leave?"
"Naw, it can wait until I feel less like death warmed over. The whole world is tilting sideways, and (..ULP!..) my stomach's doin' flipflops, even layin' down. Besides, this damn outfit is so tight it feels like there's a handful of eggs between my legs. How you doin'?"
I swallowed hard for the umpteenth time to hold down my lunch as the universe did cartwheels around me.
"WeelIl (ulp) ...not the egg part, but definitely I've got the rest, ...(gulph). with a vengeance. What did that old broad do, call down the wrath of the God's on me? ...uh, on us?"
"Oh, don't be absurd, Jason. Even I don't think she's got that kind of power. It was just a freak of nature. Just coincidence."
I'd been propped slightly on one elbow to better see Angela. Then the world tilted radically to the left and I flopped back immediately as a means of self-preservation. My eyes clamped tightly shut to extinguish at least the appearance of the drunken pitch of the ground. The surge of renewed vertigo accompanied a violent attack of nausea. "Oh God," I groaned. "This is death cooling off, not warmed over."
Even with my eyes closed the lounger seemed to pitch and yaw like a rowboat in ten-foot seas.
With some effort, the butler's formal cultured voice penetrated my misery. "Excuse me, ...uh.. Sir, but the Doctor has asked me to see that you both take one of these Dramamine tablets. He said it would help ease your discomfort until you can get to your residence." His blurred penguin-suit visage stood between us as we both, very unsteadily, took the proffered pill and sip of water. Short of death itself, maybe it would help, I hoped, if by some miracle it stayed down. Andrew added, "I'll be back with the chauffeur to help you home when you think you feel well enough to do so, .uh.., Sir."
Which seemed like eons later, during which neither of us was particularly talkative. We were both just too darned miserable, consumed by our own personal anguish. But we both eventually decided that being home and miserable was far better than lying out in the open among strangers. By some miracle, the pill had stayed down, and had even managed to reduce the vertigo and nausea. However, we both still needed a strong arm for support as we shuffled sluggishly toward the front of the mansion. We'd have particularly enjoyed the ride in Mr. Murtelli's personal limousine if we hadn't been so nauseous and miserable. Aloud, I grumbled halfheartedly about our own car being left behind.
Andrew answered from the front seat where he'd joined the chauffeur. "We took the liberty of acquiring your car keys from your ...uh.. wife, Sir.' I realized our disguises were giving him some identification problems. "We will bring it 'round tomorrow and pop the keys in your mail slot. Will that be satisfactory, Sir?" he asked formally.
"Uh hub, I groaned softly. Snuggled in the comfortably spacious rear seat of the limo, Angie and I held each other tightly, each needing an anchor upon which to focus for support and comfort in a topsy-turvy world.
My discomfort was gradually ebbing as I concentrated on the soothing presence beside me. Only then did I become vaguely aware of what I'd perceived only fleetingly upon recovering consciousness. There had been a sense of heaviness about my hips and butt while struggling to the car. And that same bloated but constricted tension in my chest. Also, the restraining pressure on my waist and feet, even in the tight reinforced dress and high heels, was decidedly lessened. Recalling my observations of the oddly soft slenderness of my fingers when first awakening, I tried to examine them more closely, but my eyes wouldn't focus properly. Overall, my body had apparently somehow adapted to its current restraints. Or my brain was too busy recovering from the electric jolt and its consequences to bother dealing with much else, thereby toning down "less important" sensory distresses. My internal torment never abated enough to allow analysis of the decidedly unpleasant tension and disorientation. Still, there was this growing sense of wrongness.
Finally at home, after one of the most harrowing experiences of my life, we headed straight for the aspirin, then the bedroom.
"Honey?" I croaked. "You ever get me near that damn woman again and, I swear, Ill divorce you. If I recover, that is!"
"Don't worry, Babe. After tonight I'm gonna be a lot more careful about getting near her myself. Even knowing she wasn't part of what happened to us doesn't help me shake the connection." Struggling with and finally removing her boots, she added, "Damn, my feet hurt! Suddenly, those boots were four sizes too small. How are you doin', Hon?"
I'd kicked off the heels with a sigh of relief. Reaching up beneath the heavy calico gown, the wide elastic waistband stretched enough that I could pull the crinolines down over my hips. Throwing the crisp slips at a chair, I answered, "Uh.. okay, considering." By stretching my hands back, I could easily locate the solid line of satin-covered buttons, but long nails again would not facilitate their release.
"Help me with this dress, will ya?"
"Yea, sure." She rose unsteadily and I turned to give her access. "...uh.. Honey..," she stammered, "have you noticed anything weird ...uh.. since we woke up? Like strange feelings or unpleasant awkwardness?"
"I know I'm sick as a dog---"
"No, not that. Something else, something strange." The unbuttoning stopped. "Even as bad as I feel, there's a sense of strength, ...of...of power."
I turned t0 face her, looking up slightly to make eye contact. "All I feel is sick and weak. I had some odd feelings earlier, bu ....!" My voice trailed off in mid-word. Angie had already stripped down to her/his BVDs, while I still wore the dress, nylons, panties, and garters. Glancing down, I confirmed that we were both minus shoes.
Angela was at least two inches taller than me!!
For a completely different reason, the hollow in the pit of my stomach opened into a bottomless chasm. A growing awareness and dread of what may have been done to us was joined by an equally expanding realization of what Lady Corinne had meant by using the fullness of her Power, impossibly ridiculous though it seemed.
Fearing, yet admittedly exhilarated by the prospect and knowing how to quickly confirm my suspicions, I looked up into my wife's eyes. "Honey, are you having trouble focusing your eyes?"
Apparently oblivious to our height disparity, she answered, "Yea, Lam. Can't see too good at all, in fact. That lightning must have screwed up my vision worse that it already was. Even my contacts don't help mow."
Confirmation? Seeing with squinting difficulty, a curious expression on her man's face, Angie watched as I pulled the loosened dress down over flared hips and it joined the slips. Now naked above the waist, my hands swept lightly over 'padded' hips and thighs beneath panties and hose. Ignoring potential damage by long nails, fingers hooked the panty waistband and tugged the lacy garment down to my knees exposing my crotch. I could FEEL my nails slide past garter belt, across pubic hair and labial folds, then one digit probed. My hand jumped away is if shocked again.
"YYIIIEEeee....!" The shock was almost unbearable, and I nearly succumbed to a violent desire to faint.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Jase?" Angie's thick bass blurted. Solid hands grasped my shoulders. My breasts shook heavily, their weight tugging at my ribcage.
"Oh God, Ange!" I stammered as tears poured down my cheeks. Never having been one prone to cry, this was all the more degrading. And I noticed that Angie's knuckles were hairy! "What has she done to us?" I plumped heavily onto the bed, redoubling the quaking bouncing of my chest. Crying profusely, I cupped a huge teat in each hand and pointed the nipples at Ange-as-me. "Honey ...(sob).., they're mine now, really mine ..(sob)!! .It's all become REAL!! Tits, cunt.. (sob) ..everything! ...I'll even (sob) need your contacts to .... Oh, Ange! Why'd she do (sob) this? WHY?"
Dumbfounded by my outburst, she stared. Whether unbelieving or unaccepting, I could not tell.
"Haven't you figured it out yet? (sob) Don't you know (sob) what that crazed bitch .. (sniff) . .has done?" No answer, just a wide-eyed stare, mouth gaping. "She said we'd get our hearts' desires, our fondest wish, right?" Studied nod. Through another bout of tears, wailed, "Oh, Honey, I'm so sorry... really (sob.. .sniff) truly sorry. I brought this on us... (sob!)" Extremely aware of bare arms brushing across exposed breast flesh, I wiped tears away, steeled myself against the dawning realization in Angela's eyes. I stood. (Damn, those boobs are heavy!)
Her mouth flexed like a goldfish. "...oooOOHH.SHIT! T..Th. .That means..I..I..." Eyes wide, she stared down at her flat chest and beyond. Pulling at sparse chest hairs with thickened fingers, her eyes went even wider at the sharp little twinges. With a single convulsive motion, the Levi's and cotton underwear came off.
Whatever had zapped me into a perfect duplicate of Angela had done just as thorough a job on my wife. From my angle the penis and testicles looked rather average, having had plenty of opportunities for comparison in Men's Rooms and gym showers. To her, however, they must have seemed monstrous (in more than one sense). Larger than the undersized simulations that had preceded them, they were most certainly REAL! Even as I watched, the cock began to swell, much to my amusement.
I sputtered a tearful giggle.
Ange was thunderstruck. "MY GOD!" she bellowed. "This is sick! What the Hell right did She have doing this to me...uh...to us?" With relish, I noted that Lady Corinne herself may have done what I could never hope to accomplish, namely turned Angela against her.
Head angling about, the figure with Angie inside examined the tightly muscled biceps, solid barrel chest, lean hips, hairy legs, replumbed crotch. "How the HELL do you walk without causing a rupture?" Her examination gained a noticeable tone of awe, even relish. She was adjusting much more quickly than me, and I was the supposed "pervert".
I forced a slight smile. "Just do what you've been doing. But be careful when you cross your legs," I chuckled quietly.
Ange favored me with a disdainful expression, then her gaze roved over my curvaceous body. "1 could tell you the same thing, ya know. Only the application is different." She checked 'herself' again. (I decided that the pronouns and names would have to be readjusted yet another time, hopefully not the last!) "This plumbing is so damn bulky! Definitely gonna take some getting used to." Seriously, she added, "Now what do we do, though? Instead of just disguises, Lady Corinne is unquestionably to blame for us REALLY BEING complete functional duplicates of each other. Her Power must be far far greater than even I ever imagined! And if I know Corinne, and I do, pretty well anyway, she'll let us stay like this for a while, probably to give you a chance to stew, then exact a heavy price for restoring us to ourselves again.
"Well, if that's the case, we'd better make the best of it until you can contact her and find out how expensive it'll be. Meantime, how about some sleep? This body may be all female for real, but that electric shock's after-effects still haven't worn off. I feel like I've got a terminal case of the flu."
"Me too. Shakily, but with a much calmed demeanor, she (or is it HE now?) retrieved the discarded briefs and pulled them back on, with appropriate though tentative adjustments. Then Angela turned down the bed sheets. "We'll both probably feel a lot better after some rest. A good night's sleep will clear our thinking too, and that'll help considerably if we're to get this all worked out. Besides, I'll make an educated bet that Corinne's not about to even so much as talk to us before tomorrow at the earliest."
In a stupor, I angrily tugged at the ruffled panties, garters and hose from around my ankles, doing considerable damage to the latter with my nails. Angie handed me a pair of nylon panties and a peach colored knee-length nightgown at diaphanous nylon. It had short puffed sleeves, a wide elastic band that snugly marked the high waist just beneath my breasts, and a deep V-shaped bodice with no support, leaving my fleshy mountains unfettered and very thoroughly exposed. The twin dark patches of aureole showed clearly through the thin fabric, as did the thumb- point nubbin of each nipple. Naked, I'd noted that my overall complexion was an unblemished creamy white while Angela's masculine contours had acquired a generally tanned ruggedness.
Seated on the bed's edge, I stared down at warm breasts. "Looks like the act goes on with a vengeance,
"That's for sure.' Angela hit the lights and I felt her climb in on her usual side.
Suddenly, suppressed tension poured from me in tearful wrenching sobs and I curled into the crook of Angie's arm, head on her bare chest. It seemed the natural thing to do, pleasantly comfortable and reassuring. A light caress brushed soothingly through the long hair that I knew was really mine now, too.
"Cry it out, Jase. Atta girl. We'll straighten things out tomorrow."
While I did wonder if she realized that she'd automatically called me 'girl', somehow her using the cross-gender pronoun didn't bother me. I must have been too busy crying myself to sleep.
Troubled sleep was interspersed with convoluted images of the past week. Trying on Angie's underwear to appease my tv-ism. Her proposal to win the prize. The unaccustomed sleek smoothness of hairless legs and armpits. The incongruous sight of perfectly simulated breasts bulging from my own chest. Working hard to get my makeup just right and failing miserably. The shock of seeing Angie-as-me for the first time. Staring at my reflection in the mirror and seeing my wife's face. The terrible pressure of that full corset. The terror of appearing in public at the Party. The revelation before the party crowd. Confronting Lady Corinne. The thunderbolt's sudden flashing brilliance.
And there was last night's dream, with incredible clarity.
His hand softly stroked the soft bulge of my stomach. Warm, soothing, the fingers traced a line up between my flattened breasts. Gently coaxing my chin sideways, his warm lips pressed into mine, tongues dodging in a wet game of tag. An arm reached beneath to support my head, my own arms thrown over his broad shoulders, red nails wandering across the firm thickly muscled neck and back. His free hand glided eagerly across smooth sensitive flesh as he caressed my breasts, squeezing, stroking, rubbing, and pinching the engorged nipples where a warm glow of pleasure grew and expanded from the twin towers until the tender flesh burned beneath his ministrations. His lips traced a fiery line down my throat and across throbbing tits. A spasm of rapture lanced deep into my bosom, needing, wanting, and desiring, as his tongue played with and lips surrounded a fat brown nipple. The suckling almost drove me crazy. A second, double-barreled spasm fired me to higher plains as fingers fondled and pinched the other exposed pap.
Somehow, we were naked. My gown and panties, his pj's and briefs gone. Exposed, vulnerable, and loving every second of it, I lay in his arms, squirming beneath the onslaught of pure desire and animal lust. I prayed for him to drive me higher. My senses were rapidly becoming overwhelmed, and I wanted more. My need was irresistible. The growing fire between my legs demanding appeasement, my fingers knew the object of that need and worked purposefully down his spine, across the trim firmly packed buttocks, feeling the object of my slow progress nestled against my thigh, growing more voluminous by the second. Slowly, my slender digits worked across his narrow hips and thick pubic mat to grasp their destination. IT was huge! A full, rampant erection. I had already enjoyed the pleasure of a mild orgasmic jolt during his avid suckling. In fact, the massive size of my breasts allowed him to suck at both mains together, which he was now avidly accomplishing. JOLT!
God! It all felt sss0000ooo good, including that which I grasped between us. My small hand could barely encircle the thick turgid shaft. I wanted that pinnacle, that ultimate height, but he was so involved at my breasts, I had to tug slightly to coax him into position. Never releasing his double-barreled suction, the bulk of muscle swung up and settled between my sprawling thighs. I was ready!
Finally, the moist lips released my teats. His wet caresses progressed upward and our mouths crushed together wantonly. I felt something warm pushing toward my throbbing tunnel. I thrashed for release in his arms. It touched my crotch. Probed. The engorged head pressed deliberately forward and slid slowly into the moist cavity. Entry was smooth, easy, well lubricated. It felt so wonderful!! Desperately, my legs rose and locked around him, then pulled. The massive pole rushed inward with sudden (though expected) force and was buried to it's base, my body absorbing it easily, and it filled me to my depths. Then he began to move, slowly, the bulk of his penis thrusting with a piston rhythm that pushed me to that highest of heights, that ultimate peak of ecstatic orgasm.
"..oooODHHhhooo...!" I moaned as the orgasmic convulsion rocked my body in sync with his thrusts. "OH. .Oh. .oh!" His motion gained momentum, his organ ramming in and out with spastic force. Suddenly, he froze, buried to the hilt, penetrating to its full depth, feeling as though it filled my entire body from crotch to throat. Deep within, I felt several subtle but distinct pulses of his beautiful love shaft as his life essence splashed enthusiastically into the depths of my being. I was so overcome with the powerful joy and pleasure of the experience that I almost didn't notice that his deep masculine voice was speaking softly into my ear.
"..(sigh).. Oh, darling. That feels so incredibly good!" His breath brushed my neck.
"Tell me about it," I gasped through ragged breaths. Gradually coming down off that incredibly glorious height to which he had driven me, I perceived his pole retreating from my depths as it quickly lost its wonderful erectile ability.
Breathing slowing rapidly to a relaxed glowing-warmth level, we lay in each other's arms. The moist warmth between my legs was not at all uncomfortable. I ignored the wet spot on the sheet as dawn's rosy glow filled the room.
DAWN?
I was watching the sunrise! My eyes were open! AWAKE! Did he.. he... we..? Coming fully alert instantly is a difficult feat, but I managed to do just that.
"Ange, Honey, what's wrong? You're so tense," came the mellow male voice from beside me.
Brushing long tangled curls from my face, I only just realized he was absently stroking my hip. It felt good, too! Trying desperately to hold my train of.... Damn, I was naked too!! "...uh..., did we... did we just...?" I couldn't finish!
"Uh huh," cut in his casual self-satisfied grin. "It was wonderful too. Not at all like imagined I stared at him open- mouthed as he analyzed. "Quite wonderful indeed. I had a lesbian experience way back in high school with a close friend, but the memory pales considerably by comparison. That bod of yours stimulated my action, even accelerated it." A dreamy expression crossed his face. "And the strength..., the power of release was incredible.., truly awesome."
"But, Darling," my trilling female vocal cords croaked as I fought the warm joy of recollection, "this is nuts. We shouldn't have been doing that at all, much less liking it. You're Angela, my wife! I'm Jason, your husband!" I was near panic, hoping, wishing I were really dreaming it all.
"Not at the moment, and not until we can get Lady Corinne to restore us. Besides, you enjoyed it too, didn't you?"
"Y..Yea, sure I..." I cut it off and tried desperately to change the subject. "Speaking of Lady Corinne, call her, NOW. I want that body back, ya hear?" I poked a sharp red nail into his firm hairy chest.
"Ouch! ...Ok, I'll call. But first, we cotta talk," he insisted.
"About what?"
During the instant before 'he' responded, I watched his thoughtful expression as the female brain behind my old face organized itself with deliberate effort. A sure sign that my spouse would not be swerved from whatever course that mind now pursued. Knowing from long experience that to do otherwise was wasted effort, I resolved to see it through, forcing myself to ignore my own number-one priority, calling Corinne.
After a few seconds the bass tone rumbled, "Remember? Corinne said I'd get a gift? And you'd get a sign?"
"Yea, what of it?" I jerked away and tried to ignore the warm glow that resulted when she... (oops) ..he tweaked a still-tingling nipple.
"This is your sign," he informed, then poked his own chest, "and my gift. Remember, too, that we were to watch for the witching hour, right?" Nod. "That was the lightning bolt when we were under the trellis."
He was ticking items off on his fingers. "And she said we'd receive our heart's desire." I glumly nodded once more, knowing and dreading where she was headed. "Well, my Dear, it's confession time, I fear. And just to be sporting, I'll go first."
He paused for a few deep breaths before pulling himself up to a sitting position against the headboard. "Growing up female is not the best of situations for a moderately intelligent person who wants to earn her own way and enjoys being independent. It's still basically a man's world run by men, and women are still expected to only be what men expect them to be, wives, mothers, ...whatever, in spite of all the supposed progress of Women's Rights and all that bunk. Your biology limits you physically to some extent, men limit you socially, and the simple fact that you're female often limits you intellectually. That's why I've always been such an avid feminist. Yet, it still wasn't enough. I wanted to be the strong one, dominant. When we met, my conservative upbringing kicked in and I fell in love with you. It hurt, though. You only tolerated my activism, and your increasing obsession with your macho-stud image indicated the fragile nature of your self-image, so I never tried to press for equality in our relationship. And it was very painful, Darling. So much ~o that I turned to Lady Corinne for comfort, for solace and advice."
He took in a long deliberate breath and let it out very slowly. "The only real compensation was sex, but as good as that was, I still wanted to be the initiator. Then there was always that biological clock ticking relentlessly inside my body. At best it's restrictive, painful and messy. At worst it'd produce a baby and ultimately destroy whatever freedom I possessed. For those and a multitude of other reasons, I've insisted that we wait to have a family. In fact, as you've probably figured out by now, I didn't want to be a mother at all. The bottom line, Honey, Is that I've never really enjoyed being a woman. That's the crux of it." I remained silently attentive. "I wanted to escape the awkward confinement of being female. To put it even more bluntly, I wanted to be a man, the Boss, the muscle, Head of the House. Do you understand what I'm saying?" he pleaded.
"Uh..., I think so," I answered hesitantly, realizing with instant clarity that the clues had always been there if only I'd cared to look far enough beyond my own fetish to notice.
"So," he continued, "giving me your male body and the physical and social power it symbolizes to me was Lady Corinne ' s so-called gift. And..."
I finished for her, "..and me getting your well-hinged femaleness was my curse."
"Not necessarily. She said it was your sign."
"Huh?"
"She also said we'd both get our heart's desire. Mine was to be a man in a man's world." A firm male hand pulled my chin around until our eyes locked. "Darling, what was your deepest darkest wish?"
There it was. The Question!! The cold chill of dread creeping up my spine as s/he approached that finale was suddenly quashed by a warm glow of relief.
Finally, and honestly, I could reveal my inner self to the one person I loved most in this miserable world. Granted, our current state of existence contributed greatly. But, even beyond that fleshy fact, I found a deeply profound love, genderless, welling up within me to almost orgasmic proportions. With incredible swiftness, my long-active terror at the prospect of revealing my secret gave way to eager abandon as I revealed my transvestite soul to my lover.
Sitting very closely, he interrupted only rarely and then it was with a quick question, comment, or observation. Otherwise, he sat stoically silent, responding to my lengthy monologue with only a raised eyebrow or quirk of lips to indicate whatever emotions lay beneath. Occasionally, fingers quietly patted my own, a thick hand brushed lightly at my thick tresses, the strong arms hugged gently, all calculated to be the calming and reassuring gestures they were meant to be, showing signs of the uniquely special sharing we were experiencing. In some ways it was just as exceptional, maybe even more meaningful, than this sharing of our bodies.
The deeply probing conversation that followed, along with the sexual knowledge we'd gained from both viewpoints, allowed us to acquire a far more thorough understanding of each other than any couple in history (at least as far as I knew). It was somewhat overwhelming, to say the least.
We wound down some time later.
"Honey, this has all been really fascinating," I said eventually, "...well, almost all of it anyway. But shouldn't we be calling Lady Corinne to see about getting things restored to their proper arrangement?" Our eyes automatically swept over both bodacious bods, admiring, critiquing.
He shrugged. "Yea, I suppose so. But it would be kinda interesting to let things be, for a while at least. Maybe just 'til Doc. Wagner gives us a checkup and we hafta go back to work, eh'?"
"Careful, your fantasies are showing." I wagged a manicured finger at his nose and smiled. It was tempting, I had to admit. Yet there were potential complications that couldn't be overlooked or ignored. "And what if Doris shows up? Or any of a multitude of people? What then? I might have your female exterior, but before too long Doris or someone else is bound to trip up one of us somehow. After all, despite her obvious flaws, she is your best friend, or was, or...
Anyway! We can't stay this way for long without people eventually figuring out something's terribly strange about us. NO, we've gotta get Corinne to undo whatever she did or had done to us. Call her, okay?"
Grudgingly, he replied, "Okay, but it would've been fu "
"Hey!" My right nipple got a hard tweak that sent mildly arousing shock waves through every nerve in my bulging chest. Grabbing the phone, I aimed it at his reawakened rampart, then innocently dropped the receiver on his firm stomach instead. His gasp and swift retreat were ample reward for my action. "Call her! I'm gonna take a shower."
All too aware of the desire my body radiated, I disengaged my creamy soft curves from his persistent but guarded grasp and headed into the bathroom. Every giggle of hip, every sway/bounce of weighty breasts, every sweep of hair across shoulders and back intensified my want, my need to again have that center of being between my legs awakened by the manhood I once possessed. And the hell of it was, the supposed perversion of those thoughts never entered my mind. Simply put, I lusted for him!!
Beneath the steaming spray, I found that fingers are no substitute for the "real thing". By the time I was dried I was eagerly considering whether we could repeat the early morning's exercise, only more consciously so as to reap its full benefit.
As I returned, towel wrapped about me and tucked together above my bulging chest, girl fashion, I heard the telephone's receiver click into its cradle.
The look on Angie's face (was it "Jason's" now?) was not a happy one. "She can't or won't see us until Friday," he announced.
'What? That's almost a week away! What do we do until then?"
His rugged Jason-face broke out in a wide devilish grin. "To quote Lady Corinne when I voiced that same objection, we 'cope'.'
I plopped heavily on the mussed bed. "Rod! Now what? We have to so see Doc. Wagner in a couple of days. Hell, we don't act sick or in shock even now, and that bolt zapped us barely...," I glanced at the bedside alarm clock, "..ten hours ago. He's bound to give us a clean bill of health, if we can manage to act natural enough to avoid any catastrophes. And that means going back to work!" A tiny nervous twinge of panic cracked my voice. "You're safe since I wasn't working anyway, but I'd have to report to your office and I don't know a damned thing about what you do there. I don't even know the names of the people you work with, much less their faces. Call her back and insist..."
An iron grasp closed on my arm and drew me firmly across the short span of rumpled sheets to his solid embrace. My old voice said, "There are certain ..uh... options.." The hard shaft I'd so recently considered reacquainting myself with made its own will known. The next several days promised to be exceedingly interesting and informative (if not downright pleasurable)
They were!
We immediately decided to be inseparable, thus allowing for mutual protection in dire situations, just as we'd done at the Party. This, and what I like to think of as our better-than-average acting abilities, seemed to cover our "rearranged identities" quite adequately.
Dr. Wagner's nurse/assistant called late Sunday to check on our condition and made an appointment for early Wednesday morning. The visit was essentially routine, and 'Doc' never gave us reason to think that he suspected a thing while he performed a thorough but basic predictably routine physical (temperature, blood pressure, etc.) on each of us before he pronounced us fit. Of course, his cursory and far less than thorough examinations helped, plus the fact that visits to a doctor's office are hardly conducive to personal interchanges that might have caused us concern.
However, being the cautious and conscientious physician that he usually wasn't, we were advised to take the balance of the week off and continue our "miraculous recovery". Until then he hadn't realized that 'Jason' was not working, but did clear Angie's extended absence with her office via a short phone conversation with Kurtelli's secretary.
Doris was another matter. She showed up about noon Sunday, and from then on was popping in to check on us with disturbing regularity, like an old mother hen herding her chicks. Along with everything else, I'd spilled the beans to Ange-as-me about my heroic efforts at fending off Doris' persistent little play for me, so neither of us were surprised when she renewed her efforts, ignorant as to 'who" she courted, of course. Still, I had to admire her ability to pursue my darling 'husband' despite our rarely being apart, except in the confines of our apartment. Doris' efforts, even in the face of equally persistent rejection, were an ongoing source of amusement for us both, one of the rare non-sexual diversions we enjoyed that week. 'Jason s reaction was downright comical
Then, of course, there was the sex! Recalling my randy behavior as a male of the species, it was hardly surprising (and ultimately quite logical when I considered the subject objectively) that our lovemaking was incredibly frequent. Exploring the wondrous joys of various "situations" from my newly voluptuous functionally female perspective was both enjoyable and educational. In fact, it was absolutely fantastic! The only minor wrench in the works was when blind lust pushed us into oral sex. We'd done it only a few times during our relationship (pre-switch) and I'd enjoyed the uniqueness of it, but did not pursue the experience after Angela revealed that she preferred it otherwise. For all intents and purposes I felt the same. It was basically fulfilling, but nothing too spectacular --pretty 'hohum' actually. Now, sixty-nining as a woman, I liked getting eaten, didn't care for my own part though. The overwhelming eroticism of the moment drove us both on, but even as a female I found the experience less than satisfying. Besides, I hated the taste! Once was enough!
Sex, and fending off Doris's frequent and interminable nattering/lusting visits, occupied only so much time, although some things did require our attention, at least temporarily. 'Jason' really enjoyed not needing glasses, but I was stuck with having to learn about the care, maintenance, and use of contacts. Hell, I couldn't even read the newspaper headlines without them! Then there was the Monday morning call from Sonya asking us if we could be at SPECIAL PROJECTS at noon. With 'hubby' on the extension, I begged off until we'd seen Dr. Wagner, and Sonya conceded. That done, we had some time to kill until we could see Lady Corinne and get our rightful bodies back!
It wasn't easy.
Neither of us liked much of what television offered. Like Jack Spratt and his wife, we complemented each other. I hated game shows, and Ange hated soap operas. So, out of sheer boredom, we ventured out into the public domain and flexed our acting muscles. My previous crash course in the fine art of producing a work of art using my face and the intimidating variety of cosmetics my spouse owned came in real handy. It took some adjusting, but I gradually learned to enjoy making up my pretty feminine features and dressing elegantly for a night out at a restaurant, movie, or stage production. Once we even ventured into a nightclub for dinner and dancing, with mixed results, the meat was excellent, but then we got adventurous and tried the dance floor. I kept trying to lead so-the experiment only lasted a couple of awkward hours.
For these outings, I took extra delight in pouring myself into some of Angela's most beautiful gowns. Learning to accept and pretending to ignore the lustful male glances at my abundant assets was not easy though, and was virtually impossible to avoid since everything in her wardrobe was extremely revealing, low-cut, and generally form-fitting. Angie had always enjoyed her beauty and what it did to men ("After all," she admitted, "that's how I got you, wasn't it?" It was!), and she had selected her extensive wardrobe accordingly. Now, I had her buxom curves and was presenting them for inspection.
"Why cover it all up," 'he' winked, "when you can give those poor male slobs a taste, at least visually, of what only I can appreciate completely?"
Although oddly disconcerting, I had to agree. "The poor schmucks!" I camped. "If only they knew just how completely!" Passersby gawked a bit at our burst of raucous laughter while we shared the incredible truth of what those men would never know.
As our appointment with Lady Corinne approached, I had some misgivings about returning to my old male self. This woman's body was so much more pleasurable to possess. Yes, so much more sensual. Even the subtle pressure of bra's made my nipples stand up and take notice. And the incredible sensuality, the satiny textures of female clothing, sleek pantyhose, nylon panties, soft whispery slips, were almost overpowering at times, and sexually stimulating in their own right.
Time did march on until Friday found us sitting in the lush reception lounge of Lady Corinne's downtown penthouse suite awaiting her pleasure. While he never spoke of it, the look in 'Jason's' eyes showed a sadness, a reluctance to give up the 'experiment'. I wondered if 'he' read the same emotions in my own expression? Yet, it had to be. We'd already decided that between us. Grand as the experience was, It had to end before the house of cards that was our identity-exchanged existence fell down around our ears.
After a long wait, we were called into a surprisingly modern executive office. Lady Corinne, standing regally in front of the huge oak desk, beckoned us toward a nearby sofa. Instead of the theatrical cowled robe, her attire was an ordinary conservative woman's style, although plain charcoal-gray wool skirt and blazer, silk blouse, flat black loafers. Her lace still showed age, but discrete makeup over the stark albino-white features masked even that to a great degree, as did blue contact lenses. The short-cropped snow-white hair gave her a sort of grandmother' image. Here was the 'person' I'd seen in the photographs!
Ange and I remained silent as she scrutinized us closely for long seconds, those penetrating eyes memorizing our every feature with almost tangible glee before her lips finally moved from their indifferent tightness. Was that a gleam behind those blue contacts? "Well? What do you want?"
"..uh..," Ange-as-me faltered.
I cut irritably into 'his' stammer. "We want back?"
"Back to what?" the Albino Witch crooned icily with mock ignorance.
"We want our old bodies back!" my tremulous female voice countered hotly. "I want to be a NAN again. And Angela wants this body back too. If you can DO it, you can UNDO it."
Holding back my revulsion, I allowed Her to take my small manicured hand gently in her cold clammy grasp. Those eyes bore deeply into my soul. "You have your heart's desire," she taunted. "Aren't you happy with that? Most people would be overjoyed with such an arrangement.., have been, in fact."
Aha, so she'd pulled this stunt on others, eh? "I'm not happy with it at all, Corinne. Fantasies are human escape mechanisms, but I'm sure you know enough about human nature to have figured out by now that if anyone's fantasies are made real they are rarely all they're cracked up to be. If fact, they can literally become nightmares. Ours isn't quite that, but my having Angela's female body and her having my male form is just too awkward. We can't function as each other for long without slipping up somewhere and the truth being at least guessed at, insane though it might seem," I admitted. "Change us back,...puullleezz."
I was watched her sidelong glance at my partner, then back at my well-exposed bosom. "You should have thought of that before you insulted me, my dear fellow." Her voice oozed sweetness, but the undercurrent of vengeful anger was unmistakable. She turned back to the 'man' beside me, and her tone quickly turned to concern. "My Dear, do you feel likewise?"
"Well ..," 'he' groped hesitantly for the right words, licked dry lips, then steadied. "I'm not quite as enthusiastic about giving up the sense of power this form gives me, M'Lady. But Jase is right, this situation is almost intolerable. It definitely complicates our lives, not to mention our careers."
A sly smirk crossed her dry lips and disappeared. "Hmmm, yes, I must admit you're both right." Thoughtfully, she stroked her chin with thin fingers, nodded to herself, and moved to the desk. She grasped the Crystal Ball from its holder (was it the one from the Tent, I wondered?) and stared into it in a glassy-eyed trance for at least a minute. Eventually her eyes focused once more on us as she seemed to have made a decision.
"Jason! ...JASONY"
The officiousness of her tone came as from a great distance as my thoughts had wandered, considering what drastic measures I might be able to take if our desperate plea went unanswered. It startled me back to full attention when I realized she was addressing me. I'd been answering to "Angie" for most of the past week and the sudden reversal sounded strange.
"..uh...Yes?" I acknowledged finally.
"Do you now doubt my Power?"
'"Not in the least," I declared unhesitatingly, hoping fervently that I sounded convinced.
She turned. "Angela, you have been faithful to me ever since we first met, and maintained your faith, even under the unrelenting pressure of your husband's derisive attitude. I admire and cherish such devotion and loyalty both to myself and to your husband as well, despite the conflicts this caused in your life. And maybe you've both learned a lasting lesson from the past few days, although your partner hers most certainly needs a further dose of 'her' current predicament if 'she's' to gain a true feeling for what a REAL woman's life is actually like. Not to mention the fact that Jason was such a snobbish psuedo-macho creep."
My heart sank. Was she really going to let us go on as is? Did she actually plan to make me retain this female form indefinitely? I had no doubt that she was aware of my transvestite fantasies. Her intimate knowledge of us both was undeniable. I wondered whether, even at her advanced age, she was into Feminism as deeply as was Angela. If so, was she trying to prove to me that a woman's life wasn't as glorious and sensual as I'd fantasized it to be. Her last words seemed to affirm that possibility. And what could I possibly do or say to convince her that I was completely thoroughly whipped, contrite and repentant. And what about that time bomb ticking between my hips..?! Absolute terror gripped my gut when I suddenly realized I'd not touched the birth control pills in Angie's section of the bathroom medicine cabinet, the pills she'd been so religious about taking. I rejected the thought. Impossible! I couldn't possibly be that female, could I? Thankfully, my grotesque fears were apparently unfounded.
"Therefore," she continued, "I shall grant you this request, though it's against my better judgement."
"Thank God!" I sighed from 'Jason's' powerful hug. Those muscles were real, for sure!
"Come," Lady Corinne instructed.
We eagerly rose and followed her to a locked door that she opened with a key from among several on a necklace hidden beneath her blouse. Beyond was a dim room that matched the inside of the black-draped gazebo almost perfectly small round table draped with black tasseled cloth, guttering tapers, three wicker chairs, but no crystal ball or stand. Just as before, we sat and allowed our hands to be stacked in exactly the same way. Again, Corinne went through an identical ritual of concentration and apparent short trance. Those cheap Theatrics sorely shook my recently acquired belief in her 'powers, but I swallowed a doubter's grunt and waited patiently, enduring.
Suddenly the sequence changed drastically. Slowly, I became aware of a low chortling, almost like the proverbial witch's cackle, emanating from Lady Corinne's throat. Then her eyes snapped open wide and the sound rapidly built into a horrendous roaring laughter that cut down my spine as her head shot up.
With lightning speed and a strength of which I'd never have believed her capable, she wrenched her hands from the 'pyramid' and jumped to her feet.
"Hahaha...," she bellowed lustily. "Oh, this is (heehee) so precious ..ha.. What incredible luck...hohoho...! Oh My, how sweet. Hahaha!' She buried her face in a fist full of curtain, but the muted crowing continued uninterrupted for several moments.
Dumbly, we sat and waited.
Nothing had happened. Nothing! Breasts still ballooned from my chest (I could feel the material of the bra cups holding the spongy flesh firmly in place). Long auburn waves still brushed my shoulders and tickled the expanse of creamy flesh that formed the deep well-exposed cleavage. Expansive hips still flared shelf-like from my diminutive waist. My empty crotch pressed flush against the chair, legs crossed firmly, unobstructed. Grieving over my lost manhood, terrified that I might forever remain in this female form (despite whatever fantasies I may have had otherwise), I clutched nervously at my mate's thick hands. My questioning look toward 'Jason's' still-bewiskered face was no more assuring than the muffled laughter. 'He' was obviously just as puzzled by Corrine's mysteriously gleeful outburst.
Holding hands with a certain cold desperation, we waited until she wound down. It took a while, but finally she released the curtain. Pulling a dainty lace handkerchief from a pocket, she dabbed at tear-stained cheeks and swollen eyes.
Hiccups punctuated her words. "(hic) Oh, My Dears, ..(hic) I'm truly sorry, but (hic).. I can do nothing ..(hlc) for you at ..(Hic). this time."
"WHY NOT?" we both pleaded.
"You DID it! You can UNDO it!"' I shrieked.
"Ah, but your wrong there, Missy." She was back in control now, although a permanent smirk of amusement pulled at her thin lips. "I was the instrument through which IT was done, not the DOER. And reversing your plight is not as easy as it might have been."
"Why not?" I wailed.
"Great though They may be, the unnamed Forces upon which I call for my Power command respect, must be dealt carefully, and, most importantly, can be invoked only within the confines of certain rules which THEY impose upon me."
"What sort of rules?" A sinking feeling gripped the pit of my stomach, as it had when I lay helplessly in that lawn chair at Murtelli's estate.
The unnaturally brilliant gleam in her moist eyes was almost dazzling as they locked fixedly at my lap, then tracked upwards to my face. "In your case, my dear, the rule preventing me from interfering in any way with the human gestation process."
An oddly high tremulous male voice broke in, 'his' tone shrill and strained. "Gesta.... you mean...?" 'He' turned to me, shaking all over, looked down at my stomach, eyes wide as saucers, trembling fingers touched his lips. "Oh...MY GOD!!"
Delicate fingers flew to my slightly rounded abdomen, firmly pressing into soft yielding flesh under dress, hose, panties, probing impotently for the horrible truth of life's reality buried deeply within my new FEMALE body. In desolate panic I recalled all the times over the past several days when we'd been so bored sitting around our apartment, and had found sol ice and sensual comfort in each other's arms so many times. I thought of all those fantastic pinnacles to which both of us had so willingly aspired; and of the incredible glow of pleasure my generously rounded woman's flesh had experienced each gloriously frequent time 'he' had blissfully pumped wiggly-saturated jism into those procreative depths of mine where it had splashed so enthusiastically at the door of my fertile brand spanking new woman's womb to seek out nature's destiny.
SHOCK grew into a blazing inferno of red-orange light, then a curtain of blackness pulled inwards from the edges of sight, like a camera lens slowly closing across my eyes.
Just as the world faded into oblivion, I heard Lady Corinne final words. "Come back in about eighteen months, after the babies are weaned."
From a great distance, a young woman's light soprano droned a terrified gurgle. "AAIIYYEEeeee.!"
THE END??
Read Part 1 or Part 2 or Part 3
Note: tg body suits appliances attached stuck
Read Part 1 or Part 2 or Part 3 or Part 4 |
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