Pete flew backward as the thunderbolt from Ellen's watch struck him. It was like being hit by a truck--he was catapulted backward as his vision was filled with stars. Down was up and up was down as Pete seemed to be tumbling through a strange tunnel, a sort of wormhole in which the brief glimpses Pete could manage were filled with strange, swirling colors and shapes in which time and light themselves seemed to bend and shift around Pete. He stayed awake for a few moments, but vertigo quickly overcame him as he flew through the wormhole at breakneck speed and passed out.
When Pete opened his eyes, he saw the rays of a shinning sun and a bright blue sky. He blinked a few times before he got a sense of where he was. "What the hel--" Pete began as he realized he was lying flat upon his back. He sat up and looked around in confusion. He seemed to be in an open area, seemingly in fairly ordinary suburb. The place was filled with one- and two-story homes of average size with a kid playing out in the front yard here and there. One thing stuck Pete though (aside from the thunderbolt)--the cars. They were strange, like strange as in old. They were practically tanks--big metal beauties with chrome wheels and shiny chrome bumpers--all of them. Jack looked closer . . . the cars were clean, and in fact they looked new. Sure, some people had cars from the 1950s and 1960s that they kept clean and nice, but they did that by keeping them under tarps and cleaning them obsessively. These cars were just sitting the the driveway of house after house exposed to the elements.
"Erie huh?" came a female voice. Pete looked around to see the source of the sound. To his right he saw his grandmother Ellen. She was dressed as she had been--a red sweater with "Cool Grandma" written in glittery letters across the front, and a set of jeans that had been let out around the waist to make room for grandma's expanding mid-section. She also had a couple rings on her aging, wrinkled hands, and she wore a thick set of glasses.
"Nana?" Pete said in amazement as he stood up, "how did you get here?" he asked. He had not seen her come through the wormhole or whatever the hell it was. "Same way you did I suspect," she answered, "though that isn't the most specific, informative answer I guess," she admitted. "What is this place?" Pete asked. Ellen smiled as she looked around. "This is my neighborhood from when I was just about your age," she said as memories of days gone by filled her mind, "and you can thank the magic of the watch for that," she said. "Well . . . the magic of the watch and the fact that you kissed me so passionately," she said. Pete blushed, filled with both shame and anger. "You kissed me , Nana," he said sternly. Ellen just chuckled. "Details . . . details," she said dismissively, " . . . important thing is it got the job done."
"And what was the job exactly?" Pete asked. Ellen looked back and answered, "I wanted a second chance at love, my boy," she asked, "and a chance to be young again," she said. Pete was confused. "Well you're same age as you were before, and I love you, but not the way you're looking for, so where exactly does that leave us?" Pete asked.
Ellen was irked. "It leaves us in store for an adventure, young man," she said, "something your generation doesn't get enough of, so follow me," she commanded. Suddenly, Pete found he was following his grandmother as she headed toward a house some distance away. It was the strangest thing--he hadn't intended to move, but his legs just started walking. That was a source of worry for him; in fact, the whole thing was.
The two of them approached a nice home with a well-trimmed yard, one of innumerable cookie-cutter houses constructed as the Baby Boom got into full swing in the immediate aftermath of World War 2. The two stood under a roof upon a concrete platform just outside somebody's front door when Ellen stopped Pete. "Pete," she began, "I was your age in 1964, which I'm thinking is about where we are. It was a different time, so do mind your manners. I'll never be able to figure out what is going on, and I won't get what I want if you get us tossed out of places because you've brought your 2016 sensibilities to this era," she cautioned. Pete simply nodded silently.
Ellen raised her hand to knock sternly upon the door. Instead, the strangest thing happened--her hand went right through it. Ellen's eyes went wide, as did Pete's. "Oh my goodness," Ellen began as she saw what happened. "Nana, your hand," Pete said, amazed. He gingerly reached his own hand out and set it upon the door, and then he pushed it right through the door. He left it there half inside the house for a few seconds before the sheer weirdness got to him and he pulled his arm out quickly.
The two looked at each other. "Nana, I don't think--I don't think we have bodies," Pete said, stricken by the strangeness of what he had just admitted. "I guess we just go through then?" Ellen said. Gingerly, she stepped through the door, and Pete watched as she simply phased through it effortlessly, though not without some trepidation. Pete quickly followed suit.
The two found themselves in a spacious home and glanced about at the entryway. All the furniture was from the 1960s or older. "Where are we?" Pete asked. Ellen looked about a bit. "I think I remember this place . . . Watermans lived here, I think," she said quietly.
Suddenly, noise could be heard approaching the two time travelers. "Mom, did you see my Gary US Bonds record?" came the voice of a young girl as she stepped into the foyer of the house. Pete and Ellen froze, terrified at what was about to befall them. They'd barged into the house of these unsuspecting people.
The young woman who walked in seemed to be about 17 or 18 years old. She had straight black hair and a somewhat pudgy body. A thick sweater adorned her top, and the sweater was a bit strained because a full belly jiggled a bit as she walked, as did the bouncy mounds that hung from her chest but were covered by the sweater. She had a full set of thighs and wide hips, all encased in a tight-fitting black skirt that came nearly down to her knees, as was the more proper and modest trend of that day. Still, this young woman's ass stuck out from behind her, and there was no hiding that.
The amazing thing was that the woman simply walked right through the entry area of the house and into the room that was on the other side of it. She didn't stop or seem at all to care about the strangers in her midst. "Becky Waterman," Ellen observed after the young woman had gone, "and she didn't see us."
Pete and Ellen walked quietly into the kitchen where Becky had headed. She stood by the island in the middle of the kitchen as she spoke to a woman busy over a stove. The woman over the stove turned around. She was a bigger, bustier, more beautiful version of Becky. "That would be Margret," Ellen said, "just as I remember her." "I don't know where that dreadful record is dearie. Did you look in your closet?" Becky nodded.
Margret was a woman of about 44 with long, curly dark hair. She was not fat, but she certainly had a full body that had jiggles and curves in the right places. She had a couple lines around her eyes, as fit a woman her age, and two wondrous mounds dangled from her chest. They jiggled and bounced as she walked, and the plain white blouse and apron she had on struggled to contain their girth. Farther down, the full-bodied Margret carried a small pouch of extra weight in her belly--not big, but noticeable. She had wide hips and a big, beautiful ass, though her modest dress bottom obscured it a bit.
While Pete's eyes hung open at the sight of the curvy, busty housewife, Ellen's mind ran wild with a couple ideas. "Let me try something," she said as she walked around and stood behind the unknowing Becky. "We're ghosts, basically, right?" she asked Pete. "Seems so," Pete said. "Let's act the part," Ellen said as she stepped up and forced her way inside Becky's body.
The plump, dark-haired Becky began to shake and convulse a bit, causing a delightful bounce in her chest. The young woman's eyes rolled back into her head as the invading spirit filled every crevice of her consciousness. She choked and gagged a little bit as Ellen took over, and then suddenly all that stopped. The girl stood still, and a small smile crossed her face. Her hands came up and felt around her belly and her chest.
"My lord, Becky," what's that noise you're making back there?" asked Margret, engrossed still in cooking. Becky did not answer. "Nana, is that you in there!?" Pete demanded. Becky nodded with a devious smile, saying nothing. "Sorry, Mother, I don't know what got into me," Becky said, flashing a knowing glance in the direction of Pete, to whom Margret remained oblivious.
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