This choice: He continues to check himself out • Go Back...Chapter #2He continues to check himself out by: Unknown HONK!
HONK!
HONK!
Cars swerved around his and he was aware of angered drivers cursing at him. They even called him a whore. That was new.
His new hands groped at Emily's inner thighs through her skirt. David grinned with an unfamiliar feeling of triumph. Of lust.
HOOOOONK!
He reacted too late to the boy racer zoom round the bend and plough straight into the back of the car.
Reeling from shock he fought to stop himself from blacking out and fainting. He took a deep breath, relieved to not be dead.
His vision filled with orange fire and the heat and smoke overwhelmed his senses. Then orange turned to yellow, which turned to white, blinding white and then all sensation vanished, but not before he felt his flesh erode, his bones crack and shatter and his internal body fluids evaporate.
He panted.
A bad dream?
A nightmare.
A weird, weird, weird nightmare.
He was asleep in his chair. He must have dozed off just then. He felt a warm, wet dampness on both his hands in his pocket. He looked down and cringed. He had wet himself.
His keys!
How could he hand them in to the repair shop if they reeked of urine. Oh. That was strange. They weren't there.
He had a strange memory of giving them to Emily. That wasn't part of the dream. Of course not.
What was in his pocket though?
A stone. A crystal gemstone. A diamond?
David pulled it out and looked at it. He really did find it hidden in his car. David concluded that this was indeed one of the strangest days of his life.
What was most weird was that even though he was not at all tired, he had fallen so deeply asleep and had such a vivid dream, which felt as if it had just continued straight off from waking life.
But it couldn't have, because in the dream, he was...
Ah!
There was only one possible, logical explanation. He was still dreaming.
How to check? Well, if this was a dream, then anything was possible, right.
Maybe he could have some fun?
He focused hard trying to will the door open and for Emily to come inside. No? What about his childhood ex-girlfriend...
He woke up. It was all just a dream. He rolled over to look at the clock. He couldn't see it.
The middle of the night. Seriously. That dream felt like hours.
The big question. Had he actually wet himself. He manoeuvred his hands under the sheets to his crotch to feel for wetness.
There was nothing.
Phew.
There was nothing.
Wait.
THERE WAS NOTHING!
Where was it?
What the hell?
He spread his legs and groped at the smoothness where his scrotal region used to be. Through his pyjamas, he found a small crack just above his anus. Maybe he had had some kind of surgery or something and forgotten. He poked into it and...
Spasm.
His legs convulsed, bending at the knees, spreading them wider.
But it wasn't pain.
It was pleasure. Pleasure. A wave of it sweeping through his whole, entire body.
Curious, he prodded it more and more as it slowly sunk in what it might have been.
Hold on.
He calmly moved his other hand below this strange wound. A pretty large ass. Between. Down. Further. Yep. Definitely an anus.
He tickled the upper anus and then the lower anus. One was definitely odd.
So tired...
He jolted back awake. He had hardly noticed how exhausted he was, but, now the the adrenaline and shock had worn off, he no longer wanted to move. He wanted to sleep. Perchance, to dream.
A dream. Maybe this was another dream. Maybe he really had wet himself. If he fell asleep now. He'd be even more layers down in dream. A loop of dreaming.
Ow. He'd tried to pinch himself on the thigh but felt razor-sharp nails the end of his fingers.
He never slept on his back so he rolled back over onto his front and adjusted. His arms felt uncomfortable, so he moved them under his stomach but was unable to pass his chest.
That was strange.
He pushed at his sweaty breasts and then realised their size and sensitivity. He wiped at the sweat and then touched a nipple.
ooh.
He raised your heavy head. Lifting a tense neck and jaw. Breathing heavily from effort.
Up with the heavy, womanly boobs. Then his light stomach and finally, he rolled his thighs to his calves and looked down at his fat, effeminate body. Nobody would love that on a guy.
But his belly. Man that had gotten flat somehow. He could swear he was a little smaller too. Losing fat in the wrong places? He guessed. Still, he'd make a cracking crossdresser. Tiny balls. Big waist. Skinny abdomen.
Legs. Nice legs. He liked legs like these. Maybe he should buy tighter clothes. Like the pyjamas. Flowery pyjamas.
Gay!
Buttons. He didn't remember these. Maybe that was why his moobs were sweating so much more. He undid two buttons at the top to reveal slight cleavage.
No. That was wrong. No.
He strained his tired brain harder. Harder. Harder.
He rolled back again onto his feet, which struggled to hold him as he wobbled and shook,
He was definitely weaker. What was going on? One of these changes would have been enough. Why was he torturing himself with details?
He continued to massage his titties. They were the weirdest thing of all. That and his missing crotch.
Every pound of his heart and intake of breath in his lungs caused a jiggle.
His jaw dropped as he realised. He prepared to scream. Scream with a voice he knew wasn't his.
He smelt like a girl...
He felt long, silky hair down to his shoulders.
There was no mistaking it.
He was a girl.
Who? A gender bend of himself. Too hot. Emily again. No, the hair was too long. A random girl. That didn't make sense, this one smelt familiar.
Cassandra. his girlfriend at the start of high school. He thought of her and then he was her. Just as he had thought of Emily and become her.
Just as he would think of... He cycled through celebrities in his head, but he possessed none of them.
His teachers.
No.
People he had connected with. Mutually. It had to be.
He thought of his family by accident.
No.
What could it be?
David.
He couldn't do it before the stone, so it was obviously that. But he had jumped back from Emily. So it had to be people David had established a psychic connection with and one of them had to be holding the stone, he guessed.
How would he apologise to Cassandra for this though. It must humiliate her to have fallen unconscious for such a time. It was certainly lunchtime when the stone had projected him.
Hang on.
This bed wasn't hers. He had Skyped her on her bed once and it was definitely smaller than this. A...
...Hotel
That was right. Cassandra was a businesswomen now. A telecoms giant or something like that. She was probably on a business trip to... Asia he guessed. Based on the time. That would best explain why she was tired. Jet lag had worn off and it was late.
Something like that.
That was sad. He couldn't use her to experiment and find out about this new power. What a shame. She was too far away.
Time to hop back.
And there he was, David, in wet trousers, holding in his hand a stone to seize control of an individual, totally.
He had to experiment, but on who? It had to be someone connected to him, right. He felt most confidant with his connection:
To his friend who was now the woman working at the coffee shop so she could investigate what happened to Emily
To the rich wife of a long time customer of his, to bring him lots of money and a pair of new trousers
To the hot school counsellor with the flashy sports-car
To his pretty female doctor to check on a sick friend of his in hospital
To Cassandra just to catch the next flight back   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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