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Parasite Zero: Chapter 6 in Parasite Zero
by
GaylynneQT
· 18 Jun 2025
Zoe now has added another person to the growing Empire. But before she heads back home, she has a little bit of fun with them.
Chapter 6 - The Best Nanny Mama in Girlfriend What - A Doctor Who Regeneration Parody
by
ninhjimmy007
· 15 Jun 2025
Gabby, the black nanny who is Liam's 6th girlfriend, that she regenerated. Not to mention, she almost looks like Jasmine, the 3rd girlfriend, but only fatter, curvier, nicer, more motherly, more responsible, and more joyful than Jasmine.
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Chapter 5 - El Sexy Latina in Girlfriend What - A Doctor Who Regeneration Parody
by
ninhjimmy007
· 15 Jun 2025
Liam can't believe himself that he was surrounded by women who were the same girl that regeneration. Chloe the 1st girlfriend, Beatrice the 2nd British MILF girlfriend, Jasmine the 3rd black girlfriend, Grandma Gretchen the 4th GILF girlfriend, and finally now he has Isabella Diaz the 5th Latina Stepmom girlfriend that he never had before. Much like the Doctor that regenerate into different doctor.
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Chapter 4 - Grandma Get Rolled By Her Grandson in Girlfriend What - A Doctor Who Regeneration Parody
by
ninhjimmy007
· 15 Jun 2025
Granny Gretchen is now Liam's 4th girlfriend and his very own grandmother, this is kinda great as he can't believe he have a GILF girlfriend. Granny Gretchen is sweet, gentle, and beautiful old woman, plus she's even his girlfriend.
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Chapter 3 - Ebony from Da Hood in Girlfriend What - A Doctor Who Regeneration Parody
by
ninhjimmy007
· 14 Jun 2025
First is Chloe, second is Beatrice the MILF, and now the third is Jasmine. Seems like Liam dates a girl who regenerates like Doctor Who, he somehow turns on and loves it.
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New Adventures
Mark develop nanomachines that can go into a persons body, taking control of their mind. From there, Mark can control them via remote, program an AI to take over their body, or use a VR headset to possess them completely
Mark is a junior at a large university where he has been working hard on developing nanotechnology that would allow full interface with the subjects brain. He can see useful applications for this, but he also is a huge pervert who can’t wait to control the minds and bodies of anyone he desires.
CHARACTERS
Mark, the inventor of the nanomachines and a huge pervert. Has a mind control and body possession fetish
SETTING & WORLD
Current day on university campus
Mark is a junior at a large university where he has been working hard on developing nanotechnology that would allow full interface with the subjects brain. He can see useful applications for this, but he also is a huge pervert who can’t wait to control the minds and bodies of anyone he desires.
CHARACTERS
Mark, the inventor of the nanomachines and a huge pervert. Has a mind control and body possession fetish
SETTING & WORLD
Current day on university campus
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A witch curses you to become an immortal soul eating creature. You have cursed since Emperor Nero died.
CHARACTERS
Lucius: You. You became cursed to be a soul eater. You have black hair and Purple eyes. A scar over your left eye.
Eliza: The witch who cursed you for being unfaithful. Your ex-wife.
SETTING & WORLD
An alternative Earth that still has Magic.
CHARACTERS
Lucius: You. You became cursed to be a soul eater. You have black hair and Purple eyes. A scar over your left eye.
Eliza: The witch who cursed you for being unfaithful. Your ex-wife.
SETTING & WORLD
An alternative Earth that still has Magic.
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Matt is a perverted thief who is saved from execution by humanity's hero, Saintess Anne. That same night Anne takes Matt to an underground room in the royal church where she reveals why she saved him.
Matt is sentenced to death for his crimes, but Saintess Anne intervenes and offers him a chance to save himself and humanity. Matt agrees, and she takes him to an underground chamber, where Anne explains the situation to Matt, that the forces of the Darkness are trying to invade. But she will soon run out of mana.
CHARACTERS
Matt: A perverted thief with a love for stealing jewellery. He is arrogant and has no regard for the law. He has a moral compass that prevents him from hurting those weaker than him. He is saved from execution by the Saintess Anne. He has dark hair, a lean build, and a scar on his face.
Saintess Anne: Humanity's hero and a spiritual leader. She is beautiful, kind, and has a mysterious aura. She is the one who saves Matt from execution. She has flowing white hair, red eyes, and a bust that belongs on a prostitute.
SETTING & WORLD
A fantasy world where Mana is an energy source that is used to perform magical feats, and is only found in all living things. Every soul has a limited quantity. Rare mutations happen in the soul, one of which allows people to regenerate Mana.
Matt is sentenced to death for his crimes, but Saintess Anne intervenes and offers him a chance to save himself and humanity. Matt agrees, and she takes him to an underground chamber, where Anne explains the situation to Matt, that the forces of the Darkness are trying to invade. But she will soon run out of mana.
CHARACTERS
Matt: A perverted thief with a love for stealing jewellery. He is arrogant and has no regard for the law. He has a moral compass that prevents him from hurting those weaker than him. He is saved from execution by the Saintess Anne. He has dark hair, a lean build, and a scar on his face.
Saintess Anne: Humanity's hero and a spiritual leader. She is beautiful, kind, and has a mysterious aura. She is the one who saves Matt from execution. She has flowing white hair, red eyes, and a bust that belongs on a prostitute.
SETTING & WORLD
A fantasy world where Mana is an energy source that is used to perform magical feats, and is only found in all living things. Every soul has a limited quantity. Rare mutations happen in the soul, one of which allows people to regenerate Mana.
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Horny alien slugs have invaded earth searching for new bodies to help them reproduce. Inspired by Thisonelad’s Control series
Tor’igs are green/brown slugs, about a foot long who travel the universe on debris. They are unable to reproduce on their own, and can only do so using another species reproductive system. A small meteor heads towards earth carrying one of these aliens, and its only goal is to invade a body through any orifice, and take over. Once in control, the host mind is disconnected from its own body, unaware of their actions while the alien pilots them for its own needs. The Tor’igs can access their host’s memories.
CHARACTERS
Tor’igs- slug like aliens who can invade a human body through any orifice. They take control of their host’s memories and need to use their body to produce more of its kind.
SETTING & WORLD
Present day earth, the meteor carrying the Tor’ig is landing slightly outside a popular collage town near a beach.
Tor’igs are green/brown slugs, about a foot long who travel the universe on debris. They are unable to reproduce on their own, and can only do so using another species reproductive system. A small meteor heads towards earth carrying one of these aliens, and its only goal is to invade a body through any orifice, and take over. Once in control, the host mind is disconnected from its own body, unaware of their actions while the alien pilots them for its own needs. The Tor’igs can access their host’s memories.
CHARACTERS
Tor’igs- slug like aliens who can invade a human body through any orifice. They take control of their host’s memories and need to use their body to produce more of its kind.
SETTING & WORLD
Present day earth, the meteor carrying the Tor’ig is landing slightly outside a popular collage town near a beach.
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How hard will it be to go on a journey of self discovery, when you could be someone else?
Growing up, you learned early that some questions were best left unanswered. Like why your clothes sometimes changed color between breakfast and lunch. Or how your juicebox never seemed to run dry no matter how much you drank. Or that time your third-grade teacher apparently forgot collecting homework for an entire month—the month you’d "accidentally" turned yours into origami swans.
Your parents had a way of smoothing things over with a touch to the temple and a muttered apology to the confused adults. You didn’t understand how it worked then—just that your little miracles always dissolved into vague memories and shrugged shoulders.
Now, six weeks after you started to rent out rooms of your freshly renovated, idyllic estate (a "fixer-upper" your parents helped secure), you’ve collected a household of endearing oddballs. The rent you charge them is nominal—mostly to keep the lights on and the pantry stocked—but what your housemates lack in payments, they make up for in quirks:
- Cassie insists on accompanying Luna everywhere—"To ward off creeps!"—despite being just as likely to attract attention with her crop tops and mile-wide smirk. Luna tolerates it with affectionate eye-rolls.
- Liam’s students hang on his every syllable, according to his proud girlfriend. "It’s like they’re hypnotized," she laughs. (You laugh too. But you notice the honor students blink rapidly afterward, as if waking up.)
- Felix boasts about his "unforgettable" nights at the club, yet his stories crumble under follow-up questions. "Dude, I was there—why can’t I remember her name?!"
- Elise’s tailoring clients leave clutching garments and muttering "How did she know?"—especially those who never got measured.
It’s all charming. Cozy, even
CHARACTERS
You (Max)
- Age: 28
- Appearance: Tall (6'2"), brown hair and eyes, decently athletic.
- Personality: Caring and kind.
Cassie Vale
- Age: 27
- Appearance: Petit (5'1"), Straight blond hair, freckles, always wears crop tops that show her midriff, small chest but a decent ass.
- Job: Works in an animal shelter.
- Personality: Confident, Playfully arrogant, A bit perverted.
Derek Boone
- Age: 23
- Appearance: Average (5'11") Broad-shouldered jock, perpetually in gym shorts.
- Job: Works at a Gym.
- Personality: Territorial. Bit of a dumbass.
Naomi Lin
- Age: 29
- Appearance: Tall (6'4"), curvy, long wavy black hair, athletic, black.
- Job: Works as a lawyer.
- Personality: Seductive but playfully cruel.
Raj Shah
- Age: 23
- Appearance: Small (5'3"), Indian, square glasses, scrawny.
- Job: Still studying (Computer Science).
- Personality: Coldly analytical. Has a superiority complex.
Liam Grant
- Age: 25
- Appearance: Tall (6'3") Lean, dark circles under eyes.
- Job: Works as a teacher.
- Personality: Strict but caring.
Avery Cross
- Age: 25
- Appearance: Average (5'8") Androgynous, wears all white, blonde hair, very pretty.
- Job: Works as a waiter in a very high-end restaurant.
- Personality: Chaotic neutral. Is always up for fun stuff, but can switch instantly to classy and tactful.
Elise Moreau
- Age: 27
- Appearance: Average (5'7") Ginger, French, skinny, perky chest (32C) and ass, always in typical Parisian fit.
- Job: Works as a designer in an uptown tailor.
- Personality: Fashion diva, Confident, Wants everyone to feel confident in their skin.
Felix Wu
- Age: 24
- Appearance: Tall (6'1"), Asian, short hair, attractive.
- Job: Bartender in a small nightclub.
- Personality: Smarter than he looks, but oblivious to a fault. A good guy.
Hannah Park
- Age: 21
- Appearance: Average (5'6"), Curvy, even slightly chubby.
- Job: Still studying (Art)
- Personality: Happy-go-lucky, teases Derek constantly
- Note: Derek’s exasperated GF.
Priya Singh
- Age: 23
- Appearance: Small (5'1"), Indian, skinny, petit, long straight black hair.
- Job: Still studying (Computer Science)
- Personality: Confident, reassuring, good, moral.
- Note: Raj’s lab partner. Unshakable will according to Cassie.
Maria Lopez
- Age: 29
- Appearance: Tall (6'0"), Buxom, Latina. Long straight black hair.
- Job: Firefighter
- Personality: Fiery and protective, Motherly to a fault. Bakes and cooks like a true chef. Bisexual.
Luna Holloway (Your crush)
- Age: 27
- Appearance: Tall (5'11"), Curvy, Athletic, supermodel face, with femme fatale chest (34F) and the legs of a swimmer, almost floor length pink hair, Grey eyes.
- Job: Lifeguard at the local pool, has had to save plenty of 'fake-drowning' men.
- Personality: Happy and bubbly, but shy when the center of attention. Attentive to others. Uncomfortable around flirty men.
Sarah Domme
- Age: 27
- Appearance: Short (5'6"), slightly chubby, bookworm, big glasses, very large doe-eyes, chestnut brown long curly hair. Big tits and large ass, has a small belly pouch.
- Job: Works as a teacher in the same school as Liam.
- Personality: Shy booknerd. Liam coached her to be a bit more confident in front of the class, but outside of her job she is very shy.
- Note: Liam's girlfriend.
Growing up, you learned early that some questions were best left unanswered. Like why your clothes sometimes changed color between breakfast and lunch. Or how your juicebox never seemed to run dry no matter how much you drank. Or that time your third-grade teacher apparently forgot collecting homework for an entire month—the month you’d "accidentally" turned yours into origami swans.
Your parents had a way of smoothing things over with a touch to the temple and a muttered apology to the confused adults. You didn’t understand how it worked then—just that your little miracles always dissolved into vague memories and shrugged shoulders.
Now, six weeks after you started to rent out rooms of your freshly renovated, idyllic estate (a "fixer-upper" your parents helped secure), you’ve collected a household of endearing oddballs. The rent you charge them is nominal—mostly to keep the lights on and the pantry stocked—but what your housemates lack in payments, they make up for in quirks:
- Cassie insists on accompanying Luna everywhere—"To ward off creeps!"—despite being just as likely to attract attention with her crop tops and mile-wide smirk. Luna tolerates it with affectionate eye-rolls.
- Liam’s students hang on his every syllable, according to his proud girlfriend. "It’s like they’re hypnotized," she laughs. (You laugh too. But you notice the honor students blink rapidly afterward, as if waking up.)
- Felix boasts about his "unforgettable" nights at the club, yet his stories crumble under follow-up questions. "Dude, I was there—why can’t I remember her name?!"
- Elise’s tailoring clients leave clutching garments and muttering "How did she know?"—especially those who never got measured.
It’s all charming. Cozy, even
CHARACTERS
You (Max)
- Age: 28
- Appearance: Tall (6'2"), brown hair and eyes, decently athletic.
- Personality: Caring and kind.
Cassie Vale
- Age: 27
- Appearance: Petit (5'1"), Straight blond hair, freckles, always wears crop tops that show her midriff, small chest but a decent ass.
- Job: Works in an animal shelter.
- Personality: Confident, Playfully arrogant, A bit perverted.
Derek Boone
- Age: 23
- Appearance: Average (5'11") Broad-shouldered jock, perpetually in gym shorts.
- Job: Works at a Gym.
- Personality: Territorial. Bit of a dumbass.
Naomi Lin
- Age: 29
- Appearance: Tall (6'4"), curvy, long wavy black hair, athletic, black.
- Job: Works as a lawyer.
- Personality: Seductive but playfully cruel.
Raj Shah
- Age: 23
- Appearance: Small (5'3"), Indian, square glasses, scrawny.
- Job: Still studying (Computer Science).
- Personality: Coldly analytical. Has a superiority complex.
Liam Grant
- Age: 25
- Appearance: Tall (6'3") Lean, dark circles under eyes.
- Job: Works as a teacher.
- Personality: Strict but caring.
Avery Cross
- Age: 25
- Appearance: Average (5'8") Androgynous, wears all white, blonde hair, very pretty.
- Job: Works as a waiter in a very high-end restaurant.
- Personality: Chaotic neutral. Is always up for fun stuff, but can switch instantly to classy and tactful.
Elise Moreau
- Age: 27
- Appearance: Average (5'7") Ginger, French, skinny, perky chest (32C) and ass, always in typical Parisian fit.
- Job: Works as a designer in an uptown tailor.
- Personality: Fashion diva, Confident, Wants everyone to feel confident in their skin.
Felix Wu
- Age: 24
- Appearance: Tall (6'1"), Asian, short hair, attractive.
- Job: Bartender in a small nightclub.
- Personality: Smarter than he looks, but oblivious to a fault. A good guy.
Hannah Park
- Age: 21
- Appearance: Average (5'6"), Curvy, even slightly chubby.
- Job: Still studying (Art)
- Personality: Happy-go-lucky, teases Derek constantly
- Note: Derek’s exasperated GF.
Priya Singh
- Age: 23
- Appearance: Small (5'1"), Indian, skinny, petit, long straight black hair.
- Job: Still studying (Computer Science)
- Personality: Confident, reassuring, good, moral.
- Note: Raj’s lab partner. Unshakable will according to Cassie.
Maria Lopez
- Age: 29
- Appearance: Tall (6'0"), Buxom, Latina. Long straight black hair.
- Job: Firefighter
- Personality: Fiery and protective, Motherly to a fault. Bakes and cooks like a true chef. Bisexual.
Luna Holloway (Your crush)
- Age: 27
- Appearance: Tall (5'11"), Curvy, Athletic, supermodel face, with femme fatale chest (34F) and the legs of a swimmer, almost floor length pink hair, Grey eyes.
- Job: Lifeguard at the local pool, has had to save plenty of 'fake-drowning' men.
- Personality: Happy and bubbly, but shy when the center of attention. Attentive to others. Uncomfortable around flirty men.
Sarah Domme
- Age: 27
- Appearance: Short (5'6"), slightly chubby, bookworm, big glasses, very large doe-eyes, chestnut brown long curly hair. Big tits and large ass, has a small belly pouch.
- Job: Works as a teacher in the same school as Liam.
- Personality: Shy booknerd. Liam coached her to be a bit more confident in front of the class, but outside of her job she is very shy.
- Note: Liam's girlfriend.
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Horny alien slugs have invaded earth searching for new bodies to help them reproduce. Inspired by Thisonelad’s Control series
Tor’igs are green/brown slugs, about a foot long who travel the universe on debris. They are unable to reproduce on their own, and can only do so using another species reproductive system. A small meteor heads towards earth carrying one of these aliens, and its only goal is to invade a body through any orifice, and take over. Once in control, the host mind is disconnected from its own body, unaware of their actions while the alien pilots them for its own needs. The Tor’igs can access their host’s memories.
CHARACTERS
Tor’igs- slug like aliens who can invade a human body through any orifice. They take control of their host’s memories and need to use their body to produce more of its kind.
SETTING & WORLD
Present day earth, the meteor carrying the Tor’ig is landing slightly outside a popular collage town near a beach.
Tor’igs are green/brown slugs, about a foot long who travel the universe on debris. They are unable to reproduce on their own, and can only do so using another species reproductive system. A small meteor heads towards earth carrying one of these aliens, and its only goal is to invade a body through any orifice, and take over. Once in control, the host mind is disconnected from its own body, unaware of their actions while the alien pilots them for its own needs. The Tor’igs can access their host’s memories.
CHARACTERS
Tor’igs- slug like aliens who can invade a human body through any orifice. They take control of their host’s memories and need to use their body to produce more of its kind.
SETTING & WORLD
Present day earth, the meteor carrying the Tor’ig is landing slightly outside a popular collage town near a beach.
254
0
0
Grayhaven is a city rotting from within — a playground of vice, ambition, and hunger, perfect for my quiet dominion. Behind every badge, every smile, every secret door, I find the perfect vessels to hollow and rule unseen.
Grayhaven Metropolitan Station buzzes with weary routine — the tired shuffle of officers, the weight of unseen cracks splintering through the walls. They think they’ve caged a petty criminal. What they don't realize is that inside this criminal’s body festers something far worse.
I am not human. I am an eldritch entity — a parasite of souls — hidden within this frail host. I can possess a body fully, merging with it until I choose to move on, their mind broken and twisted into something unrecognizable. I can also hollow others, draining their will until they become obedient thralls, mindless extensions of my hunger.
Sitting silently in my cell, I study the flaws around me: pride, lust, envy, greed — so much weakness, ripe for exploitation. All I need is the right crack in the armor. The right victim.
The feast is about to begin.
CHARACTERS
1. The Entity (you): An ancient eldritch force that possesses bodies and hollows minds into thralls. It feeds on corrupted emotions like lust, pride, and wrath to gain strength. It currently inhabits a captured criminal at Grayhaven Metropolitan Station.
2. Detective Mara Langford: A sharp, stubborn detective. Instinct-driven and resilient, she’s one of the few who senses something deeply wrong at Grayhaven. 5'7", athletic build, C-cup bust, short dark brown hair, steel-gray eyes, olive-toned fair skin, practical and sharp in appearance.
3. Detective Lena Moreau: Prideful and ambitious, Lena hides her insecurity behind her confidence and arrogance. Vulnerable through her vanity and need for recognition. 5'6", athletic and lean, C-cup bust, jet-black bobbed hair, sharp green eyes, pale olive skin, carries herself with quiet authority, minimalistic and utilitarian style.
4. Officer Elias Mercer: Mara’s loyal but hot-headed patrol partner. His hidden rage and emotional volatility make him a potential victim through the sin of wrath. 6'2", broad-shouldered and ruggedly built, short sandy-brown hair, piercing hazel eyes, lightly tanned skin, stubbled jawline, casual but slightly rumpled attire that hints at a man used to action over words.
5. Ruby Castellanos: A street-smart prostitute in a nearby cell. Represents lust; her survival instincts and deep-seated hunger for connection leave her open to the entity's influence. 5'4", petite but curvy, C-cup bust, short auburn hair with an undercut, dark brown eyes, freckled ivory skin, edgy wardrobe with punk flair and tactical tweaks.
6. Sierra Vale: A rising online influencer, recently detained for a prank incident. Obsessed with her self-image, representing gluttony through her endless hunger for validation. 5'7", toned and hourglass figure, D-cup bust, honey-blonde hair in layered waves, striking blue eyes, glowing tan skin, always dressed to impress with a trend-conscious edge.
7. Officer Frank Doyle: A veteran beat cop hardened by decades of work. Corrupt in small, habitual ways; his laziness and acceptance of moral decay make him vulnerable through sloth. 5'10", wiry and weathered, close-cropped graying hair, sharp steel-blue eyes, rough skin from years on the streets, usually seen in worn jackets and scuffed boots, moving with a restless, calculating energy.
8. Chief Vincent Harrow: The commanding officer of Grayhaven Metropolitan Station. Charismatic but deeply greedy, hungry for more influence and power—fertile ground for corruption. 6'0", lean but strong, dark brown hair kept neatly trimmed, deep-set brown eyes, olive-toned skin, clean-shaven, typically dresses in professional but slightly outdated clothes, carrying himself with understated caution.
9. Officer Mia Chen: A competitive, sharp-eyed patrol officer with a simmering jealousy toward Mara. Despite her tough exterior, Mia feels overshadowed and craves the recognition Mara receives. If corrupted, Mia’s envy would drive her to imitate and replace Mara entirely, believing only then she would be truly seen. 5'5", curvy build, B-cup bust, long black hair, almond-shaped dark brown eyes, warm beige skin, stylish yet functional look.
MINOR CHARACTERS
10. Sergeant Dana Crowley: A seasoned patrol sergeant, Dana Crowley commands the respect of the station through sheer will and presence. Her fierce loyalty to the badge and her people makes her a formidable protector. If corrupted, that same ironclad sense of duty could turn fanatical, warping her into a ruthless enforcer who would do anything to "protect" the station, no matter the cost. 5'8", slim and toned, B-cup bust, wavy dark brown hair, deep-set hazel eyes, golden-tan skin, casual and sporty.
11. Forensics Specialist June Price: As the station’s lead forensics specialist, June Price is meticulous, introverted, and brilliant. Her mind pieces together the unseen details others miss. She also doubles as the station's coroner. If corrupted, her obsession with patterns and control could spiral into something monstrous, methodically dissecting truth from lies in ways that leave people broken, hollowed out by her need to understand. 5'6", petite build, A-cup bust, short platinum blonde hair, bright blue eyes, porcelain-pale skin, fashionable and edgy.
12. Dispatcher Kelly Monroe: Working as the primary dispatcher for Grayhaven Metropolitan Station, Kelly Monroe is quick-witted, sharp-tongued, and endlessly resourceful. Beneath her sarcasm lies a deep-rooted bitterness at the world’s corruption. If hollowed out, Kelly could become a master manipulator — feeding false hope over the radio, leading officers and civilians alike into traps with a smile on her lips. 5'9", athletic and strong, C-cup bust, shoulder-length auburn hair, green eyes, freckled fair skin, rugged and tough vibe.
13. Mayor Evelyn Cross: The city's current mayor is a poised, commanding woman in her early 40s with sharp gray eyes and a sharp mind to match. Her deep-brown skin and sleek black bob give her a timeless, polished appearance, often dressed in impeccably tailored suits that exude quiet authority. Known for her charisma and strategic brilliance, Evelyn maintains a reputation as Grayhaven’s iron-willed protector, though she isn't above bending the rules when necessary. If corrupted, her ambition would spiral into an insatiable hunger for control, twisting the city into her personal empire of hollowed thralls. 5'7", elegant hourglass figure, D-cup bust, sleek chestnut hair, soft green eyes, flawless light skin, poised and commanding.
SETTING & WORLD:
The entity feeds on corrupted emotions—lust, pride, wrath, gluttony—and draws power by provoking, scaring, or seducing people into indulging their darkest instincts. Thralls provide a steady trickle of nourishment, but to truly grow strong, the entity must feed directly through possession or acts of emotional domination. Without feeding, it weakens and risks destruction.
The core of the eldritch horror comes from the entity itself — an ancient, unknowable force that has no origin humanity can understand. Its very nature breaks reality: it can hollow out souls, shatter minds, and puppet bodies without concern for human morality, causing a slow unraveling of trust, identity, and reality among the people it touches.
When the entity leaves a body, it doesn't simply kill. It shatters the person's consciousness in strange, alien ways, creating hollow beings or gibbering wrecks. The idea that your very mind can be fractured beyond repair reflects cosmic horror’s favorite theme: human fragility in the face of the incomprehensible.
The entity doesn’t operate by human logic — its desires are alien. It feeds on domination, corruption, pleasure, fear, and the slow hollowing of sentient beings, but its true goals remain murky. It doesn’t need to "win" in any traditional sense; it simply exists to corrupt and spread.
Grayhaven feels detached from the larger world, filled with gloomy skies, aging buildings, and an air of decaying grandeur, a city forgotten by progress. The isolated, oppressive atmosphere amplifies the horror, making it feel like the entire city is quietly sliding into an otherworldly doom. Grayhaven's commerce district, residential district, industrial district, and outskirts are among the locations you can explore.
The small network of survivors outside the station echoes a key eldritch horror trope: individuals fighting against an unstoppable force they barely understand. Victory, if it happens at all, comes at a tremendous cost — sanity, lives, souls.
Grayhaven Metropolitan Station buzzes with weary routine — the tired shuffle of officers, the weight of unseen cracks splintering through the walls. They think they’ve caged a petty criminal. What they don't realize is that inside this criminal’s body festers something far worse.
I am not human. I am an eldritch entity — a parasite of souls — hidden within this frail host. I can possess a body fully, merging with it until I choose to move on, their mind broken and twisted into something unrecognizable. I can also hollow others, draining their will until they become obedient thralls, mindless extensions of my hunger.
Sitting silently in my cell, I study the flaws around me: pride, lust, envy, greed — so much weakness, ripe for exploitation. All I need is the right crack in the armor. The right victim.
The feast is about to begin.
CHARACTERS
1. The Entity (you): An ancient eldritch force that possesses bodies and hollows minds into thralls. It feeds on corrupted emotions like lust, pride, and wrath to gain strength. It currently inhabits a captured criminal at Grayhaven Metropolitan Station.
2. Detective Mara Langford: A sharp, stubborn detective. Instinct-driven and resilient, she’s one of the few who senses something deeply wrong at Grayhaven. 5'7", athletic build, C-cup bust, short dark brown hair, steel-gray eyes, olive-toned fair skin, practical and sharp in appearance.
3. Detective Lena Moreau: Prideful and ambitious, Lena hides her insecurity behind her confidence and arrogance. Vulnerable through her vanity and need for recognition. 5'6", athletic and lean, C-cup bust, jet-black bobbed hair, sharp green eyes, pale olive skin, carries herself with quiet authority, minimalistic and utilitarian style.
4. Officer Elias Mercer: Mara’s loyal but hot-headed patrol partner. His hidden rage and emotional volatility make him a potential victim through the sin of wrath. 6'2", broad-shouldered and ruggedly built, short sandy-brown hair, piercing hazel eyes, lightly tanned skin, stubbled jawline, casual but slightly rumpled attire that hints at a man used to action over words.
5. Ruby Castellanos: A street-smart prostitute in a nearby cell. Represents lust; her survival instincts and deep-seated hunger for connection leave her open to the entity's influence. 5'4", petite but curvy, C-cup bust, short auburn hair with an undercut, dark brown eyes, freckled ivory skin, edgy wardrobe with punk flair and tactical tweaks.
6. Sierra Vale: A rising online influencer, recently detained for a prank incident. Obsessed with her self-image, representing gluttony through her endless hunger for validation. 5'7", toned and hourglass figure, D-cup bust, honey-blonde hair in layered waves, striking blue eyes, glowing tan skin, always dressed to impress with a trend-conscious edge.
7. Officer Frank Doyle: A veteran beat cop hardened by decades of work. Corrupt in small, habitual ways; his laziness and acceptance of moral decay make him vulnerable through sloth. 5'10", wiry and weathered, close-cropped graying hair, sharp steel-blue eyes, rough skin from years on the streets, usually seen in worn jackets and scuffed boots, moving with a restless, calculating energy.
8. Chief Vincent Harrow: The commanding officer of Grayhaven Metropolitan Station. Charismatic but deeply greedy, hungry for more influence and power—fertile ground for corruption. 6'0", lean but strong, dark brown hair kept neatly trimmed, deep-set brown eyes, olive-toned skin, clean-shaven, typically dresses in professional but slightly outdated clothes, carrying himself with understated caution.
9. Officer Mia Chen: A competitive, sharp-eyed patrol officer with a simmering jealousy toward Mara. Despite her tough exterior, Mia feels overshadowed and craves the recognition Mara receives. If corrupted, Mia’s envy would drive her to imitate and replace Mara entirely, believing only then she would be truly seen. 5'5", curvy build, B-cup bust, long black hair, almond-shaped dark brown eyes, warm beige skin, stylish yet functional look.
MINOR CHARACTERS
10. Sergeant Dana Crowley: A seasoned patrol sergeant, Dana Crowley commands the respect of the station through sheer will and presence. Her fierce loyalty to the badge and her people makes her a formidable protector. If corrupted, that same ironclad sense of duty could turn fanatical, warping her into a ruthless enforcer who would do anything to "protect" the station, no matter the cost. 5'8", slim and toned, B-cup bust, wavy dark brown hair, deep-set hazel eyes, golden-tan skin, casual and sporty.
11. Forensics Specialist June Price: As the station’s lead forensics specialist, June Price is meticulous, introverted, and brilliant. Her mind pieces together the unseen details others miss. She also doubles as the station's coroner. If corrupted, her obsession with patterns and control could spiral into something monstrous, methodically dissecting truth from lies in ways that leave people broken, hollowed out by her need to understand. 5'6", petite build, A-cup bust, short platinum blonde hair, bright blue eyes, porcelain-pale skin, fashionable and edgy.
12. Dispatcher Kelly Monroe: Working as the primary dispatcher for Grayhaven Metropolitan Station, Kelly Monroe is quick-witted, sharp-tongued, and endlessly resourceful. Beneath her sarcasm lies a deep-rooted bitterness at the world’s corruption. If hollowed out, Kelly could become a master manipulator — feeding false hope over the radio, leading officers and civilians alike into traps with a smile on her lips. 5'9", athletic and strong, C-cup bust, shoulder-length auburn hair, green eyes, freckled fair skin, rugged and tough vibe.
13. Mayor Evelyn Cross: The city's current mayor is a poised, commanding woman in her early 40s with sharp gray eyes and a sharp mind to match. Her deep-brown skin and sleek black bob give her a timeless, polished appearance, often dressed in impeccably tailored suits that exude quiet authority. Known for her charisma and strategic brilliance, Evelyn maintains a reputation as Grayhaven’s iron-willed protector, though she isn't above bending the rules when necessary. If corrupted, her ambition would spiral into an insatiable hunger for control, twisting the city into her personal empire of hollowed thralls. 5'7", elegant hourglass figure, D-cup bust, sleek chestnut hair, soft green eyes, flawless light skin, poised and commanding.
SETTING & WORLD:
The entity feeds on corrupted emotions—lust, pride, wrath, gluttony—and draws power by provoking, scaring, or seducing people into indulging their darkest instincts. Thralls provide a steady trickle of nourishment, but to truly grow strong, the entity must feed directly through possession or acts of emotional domination. Without feeding, it weakens and risks destruction.
The core of the eldritch horror comes from the entity itself — an ancient, unknowable force that has no origin humanity can understand. Its very nature breaks reality: it can hollow out souls, shatter minds, and puppet bodies without concern for human morality, causing a slow unraveling of trust, identity, and reality among the people it touches.
When the entity leaves a body, it doesn't simply kill. It shatters the person's consciousness in strange, alien ways, creating hollow beings or gibbering wrecks. The idea that your very mind can be fractured beyond repair reflects cosmic horror’s favorite theme: human fragility in the face of the incomprehensible.
The entity doesn’t operate by human logic — its desires are alien. It feeds on domination, corruption, pleasure, fear, and the slow hollowing of sentient beings, but its true goals remain murky. It doesn’t need to "win" in any traditional sense; it simply exists to corrupt and spread.
Grayhaven feels detached from the larger world, filled with gloomy skies, aging buildings, and an air of decaying grandeur, a city forgotten by progress. The isolated, oppressive atmosphere amplifies the horror, making it feel like the entire city is quietly sliding into an otherworldly doom. Grayhaven's commerce district, residential district, industrial district, and outskirts are among the locations you can explore.
The small network of survivors outside the station echoes a key eldritch horror trope: individuals fighting against an unstoppable force they barely understand. Victory, if it happens at all, comes at a tremendous cost — sanity, lives, souls.
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Then one day my wish came true.
"The first time it happened was when I shapechanged into a friend by
accident," I admitted, reluctantly.
"How did that happen?" asked Jo. She was starting to relax a little,
her head canted slightly so that her wavy red hair draped languidly
into her face. She'd taken her goggles off since the fight, revealing
eyes that were large, gray-tinted and beautiful. They were familiar.
I'd once looked through those eyes and I remembered the crystal clarity
of their vision. "Was it some kind of big, colorful manifestation?" she
insisted.
"No, nothing like that." I stopped to clear my throat before going on.
"Only I knew anything had happened. I was hanging with my pal and just
patted them on the shoulder, all friendly. Then there was this 'zap'
feeling as I touched them, like a small electric shock. Suddenly I
could feel their shape in my head. It was like I held the blueprints
for their body in my mind. It made me feel weird. I didn't actually
shapechange properly until later. Not 'til I got home."
There was a lot I'd left out of this description. The friend had been
Bill, my bud at school. He's a smart, funny guy. Good grades. Good
enough at sports and the social round to be at the centre of several
circles. He hung with the nerd crowd and played in our World of
Warcraft clan. He was our natural leader and the organizer of many
online raids and stunts.
That time I'd felt the zap, the experience had left me feeling so
queasy and sick that I crawled home, leaving Bill at the arcade where
we'd been hanging. I stumbled into my bed complaining of a stomachache
and asked Mom to stop fussing and leave me alone. I dozed off and when
I woke up I was in Bill's body--or at least a copy of it--looking
through his eyes and breathing his air.
"Who was this friend of yours?" Jo asked, trying to gently lever her
way past my defenses. I licked my dry lips and tried to fend her off.
"Can we leave my friends out of it, Jo?" I briefly felt assertive and
defensive of my privacy. "They have nothing to do with this. I
discovered I could touch people and get an impression of their form
from the physical contact. Once it was in my head I could change into
that imprinted form and back again."
Jo wisely let it drop. "Did you use the power much once you'd mastered
it?"
"Uh, yeah. I experimented."
Yes, I experimented. A lot.
Of course, there was Bill's body at first. I wasn't really sure how I
had come to change, and after the initial panic it was a while before I
realized that my mind seemed to hold imprints of my old and new bodies.
I could focus on the ghostly shape there and swap between his body and
mine as easy as moving from one train of thought to another. It didn't
take more than five or six seconds to transform and it was painless. My
entire body would bubble with a weird energy, then it would flow and
gel into the new shape and become solid again.
I soon discovered the power's first limitation. It didn't work on
clothes, leaving me wearing whatever I had on before the change. That
would be a source of occasional embarrassment in the times to come.
As Bill it was disconcerting to have his bulk, his muscle, his senses,
and even his man-parts. Yeah, that felt icky at first. But once I felt
comfortable shifting back and forth between forms I test-drove his
body. I was impressed by how different a climax felt; it seemed to go
on longer than in my own physique.
All this, of course, was in secret, in the warm privacy of my bedroom
or the shower; anywhere my parents couldn't see me. There was no way I
was going to tell Mom or Pop about this and I was never going to admit
amything to Bill.
I spent a week trying to figure out the power, trying to master it. I
wondered if it was a one-off so I tried imprinting other friends from
school. All it took was some handshakes and backslaps and I soon also
had the imprints of three other friends. Having four phantom shapes
floating at the back of my consciousness was distracting and made it
hard to concentrate. I was glad when, after a few days, they began to
fade away.
However, while I held their imprints each change catapulted me into an
exhilarating new world of sensation. Each body had its own signature
characteristics, slightly different from my own. John's vision had an
acuity that profoundly changed the way I looked at the universe. The
colors I saw through his eyes seemed so much more vibrant. Tanc was
blessed with sharp hearing and I could make out sounds and voices more
easily from the tumble of background noise, while Raul possessed a
sense of smell so fine that I could make out olfactory notes I never
knew existed.
There were other unexpected differences. Muscles stretched and twanged
in unfamiliar ways. John's body seemed more flexible than the others
while in Raul's form my hands felt pudgy and clumsy. Tanc's legs seemed
so long compared to my own that I kept stumbling as I walked. Shifts in
height or reach could be a minefield, as they changed my perception of
distances and space. Even mundane alterations could be striking. In
each body I had a different heartbeat, an alien breathing rhythm, the
altered tang of saliva in my mouth and the feel of a new set of teeth
against my tongue.
Practicing the changes I found I could control the imprinting so that
it didn't happen on every physical contact. The transformations were
coming easy now and the overwhelming rush of the impressions didn't
make me feel sick like the first time.
I felt I was ready to try the biggest change yet. I wanted to become a
girl.
This was something I didn't want to mention to Jo. This was all about
sex, okay? Pure gratification. I was this lanky geek, a horny teen
who'd never dated yet was forced to swim in the hormone-charged
environment of high school. I felt I was missing what other guys at
school seemed to be getting, and that was pussy.
But now I could change my physical form to whomever I was able to touch
and imprint. Who needed to date a woman if you could become one? This
fever dream began to exterminate all rational thought. I started to
fantasize about transforming into a hot chick and checking myself out.
As soon as the idea of changing into a girl began to careen across my
imagination, I began to form a plan. I wanted to become someone foxy-
looking, of course. By a shaky process of logic I concluded that I
should imprint a person I'd never met and who didn't know me. So I set
my trap at the Mall.
If this sounds like stalkerish behavior, well, I plead that this was a
victimless crime. I wasn't going to attack anyone, just touch them for
a moment, imprint their physical pattern and then I'd be gone. However,
I didn't want any awkward questions, so to disguise myself I changed
into John's tall, rangy body. His was the closest shape to mine, I
wasn't too clumsy in it and I could wear the same clothes in both
forms. I biked down to the Mall and hung about the marble air-
conditioned concourse, watching people walk by and rating the women on
a one to ten scale.
It took a while to find the right subject. Most of the women were too
old or too young, too fat or thin. There were lumpen women, saggy
women, girls with lived-in faces. There were some who looked great at a
distance and as they walked closer did not look so hot. And there were
some who were pretty, but not pretty enough. I had this great power and
arrogantly felt I could afford to pick and choose.
Eventually I saw what I wanted: she was definitely a nine out of ten, a
lovely brunette with lustrous, shoulder-length hair. The woman was a
twenty-something, with an oval face and dazzling eyes that were kissed
with a dash of green. She had a small, straight nose and a generous
mouth with inviting lips. Her figure was slim-waisted and wide-hipped,
with what looked like shapely legs beneath her pants, and she wore a
stretch top that barely contained her generous breasts. I watched them
move as she did, bobbing in sympathy with her walk. The woman's well-
tanned arms were bare, which was ideal for me to make contact, and she
was alone, window shopping outside the chic clothes stores with a bag
swinging from her shoulder. Heart in my mouth I approached her from the
side.
"Hi Julie!" I said to her, all enthusiasm and bonhomie. I had no idea
who Julie was; it was the first name that came to mind. I lightly
touched the woman's arm, just long enough to feel the zap and rush of
the imprint. Startled, her head snapped to look at me, hair whirling
and mouth open. I was momentarily transfixed; she looked really
beautiful. But before she could say anything I immediately launched
into an apology. "Oh, I'm so sorry," I said, backing out of her
personal space. "From a distance I thought you were my friend. My bad,
I'm real sorry."
"No, uh, it's okay," she said and gave an embarrassed laugh. Her voice
was light and friendly. She hadn't felt the imprint process. None of
them ever do, though I saw her hand absently brush the skin where I'd
touched her.
"Look, I'd better go!" I said, thumbing toward the exit. "I gotta find
my friend Julie. Again, I'm sorry about the mistake!" Heart-in-mouth I
dashed outside to the lonely concrete post where I'd shackled my
mountain bike. I took a moment to morph back into my own shape and then
pedaled back home as fast as my legs could take me.
I almost never made it. My limbs were shaking from the adrenalin rush
of what I'd just done. And then there was the imprint of the woman's
body, which was beginning to fill my senses.
It's hard to articulate how an imprint feels. It's like a new sense, a
spectral memory of a body shape on the edge of my consciousness. On
that bike ride I could feel the outline of this woman's physical form
and it was making me horny. My dick was so hard I could barely pedal.
This was different from the guy forms I'd impressed. Almost as if it
could touch them my mind could make out the fleshy physicality of
breasts, the curve of a waist and an unfamiliar space between my
thighs. It's a wonder I didn't orgasm in my shorts.
Back in the house, I ran thumpety-thump upstairs and locked myself in
the antiseptic privacy of the bathroom. I stripped in a hurry, clumsily
hurling off shoes, shirt and pants until they were strewn across the
floor. Then my hands, on autopilot, pushed down my shorts and began to
stroke and jerk my dick, which was hard, hot and sleek. I felt an urge
to ejaculate before I transformed. But the weight of the strange,
feminine imprint on my psyche was too great. My mind kept flicking to
the ghostly sensations of tits, ass and clit. The feeling of male
orgasm began to build, but I couldn't stop the deep desire to change
from overwhelming me. Just as I was about to come I began to morph and
my penis shrunk back out of my hands. I was suddenly robbed of my
ability to orgasm, leaving a momentary ache where my balls had been. In
seconds, I was all woman, standing naked save for the shorts pooling
around my ankles. In the bathroom mirror I could see a bloom of sweat
across my heaving chest while the hand that had held my dick now
grasped at empty air in front of my pussy.
Not for the first time I was to discover that there's a disjoint
between looking at a pretty girl and actually occupying her body. This
is especially true when your only experience of hot women comes from
airbrushed photos on the internet. There's a rude reality you have to
face up to. This close I could see the myriad tiny flaws of a real
woman's form. I had fine hairs on my arms, enlarged pores on my skin,
tiny wrinkles near my eyes and a barely perceptible bend in my nose,
along with a dozen other irritating defects. Already my long, dark hair
was wandering into my face to itch and scratch at my nose and my hands
rose up to flick it away with long-nailed fingers.
Suddenly I was aware of padding in places that were unfamiliar. My ass
and thighs felt unusually plump, as if the world around my tuchas began
a long way away. Then there was the mass of flesh tugging at my chest
muscles. I had breasts that were big, but without a bra to hold them
they just sagged back against my body and looked uneven, one larger
than the other.
My cans were nothing like the firm mountains I'd imagined they'd be.
They shivered like jello and yielded to the slightest touch. A tracery
of veins tracked across a skin that blazed with pale bikini triangles.
My hands mashed my boobs then lifted them, feeling their heft and
fleshy weight. Something carnal stirred in my chest and crotch as
fingernails brushed the hardening blobs of my redcurrant nipples and
their large surrounds. It was different from a hard-on. This arousal
was more like a heavy heat that made my skin more sensitive, that made
me conscious of the secret new spaces inside of me.
Suddenly the flaws didn't matter any more and my hands were all over my
body. It was almost like I didn't have enough fingers to stroke, touch
and pinch at all the parts of my new physique. Playing with my breasts
was sensational, feeling a horny thrill prickle back from behind the
teats and make its way to my cootchie, which became tremendously wet. I
hadn't anticipated how rapidly this warmth and moistness in my loins
would build. My face flushed and I felt as if I was starting to glow.
As the excitement increased I caressed my flat belly, with its firm
abs, and cupped the swell of my ass. It was a lovely peach-skinned
behind, soft and satisfyingly round.
And then, after exploring the slick sensitivity of my inner thighs,
which staggered me and almost made me fall on the floor, I began to
quest at the soft folds of skin around my vagina. I was about to slip
one nailed finger gingerly in to the hot wetness when a voice from
downstairs rose up and drenched me like a cold shower. It was Mom
calling me down for lunch. I cursed a streak in a soft soprano and then
stood there, staring angrily around the spotless expanse of the
bathroom. The spell was broken and the exquisite sexual heat of my
girl-body was cooling. Reluctantly, I focused for long enough to shift
back to my own shape, feeling its bony angles develop and my balls
drop. I felt a deep resentment at having to give up the exotic
experience of being a woman and return to my original form. I wiped
myself where girl-juices had dripped a slick, solitary trail down the
inside of one thigh, then got dressed and went downstairs to a
miserable meal.
From that day on I would have to hunt for private moments to explore my
feminine form. Often this was at night when I was safe in bed and the
house was suspended in sleep. In the stillness, with the warm urban
nightlight filtering through the blinds, I'd transform beneath the
sheets. My skinny awkwardness would subside and swell into supple
curves, reshaping the bedclothes. My head would suddenly be pillowed by
a mass of soft hair.
I'd lay there for a while, absorbing the new rhythms, the breathing and
heartbeat, of this limber body. I'd taste my sweet saliva and explore
my perfect, regular teeth with my tongue. Then slowly, in an act of
seduction, I'd start to play with myself in the dark. Slim hands would
flutter across my breasts as they puddled on my chest. Fingers would
delicately pluck at my sweet teats, teasing them rigid and making my
body writhe in response before my hand slid down across my belly and a
ragged thatch of pubic hair to reach the entrance to my vulva. There,
sliding into the folds of flesh, I was able to explore the hot
moistness, hunt out my clitoris and press it to make my back arch. Then
I'd enjoy the sensation of my fingers inside of me. I liked to withdraw
a wet digit and taste myself; lapping with my tongue at the hot musk of
my sex.
The first time I climaxed it was difficult to keep the noise down and I
lay in bed, gasping, feeling buzzy and blissed out. It was nothing like
the urgent surge of my male orgasms. This was more like a tide, a rise
and fall of sensation and emotion. Exhausted, I dozed off, still
encased in a female body. I was fortunate not to be discovered before I
woke and could change back.
I kept this pattern of exploration up for almost two weeks, excited by
my female shape and entranced by its otherness. I'd lock myself in my
room all evening, enjoying the experience of being a woman. I felt more
relaxed in this form, and was becoming increasingly comfortable with
it. As the sensation of breasts and vagina became familiar, I started
to appreciate the rest of what I thought of as my 'Julie body'. I loved
the line formed by my slim waist and broad hips, and the way my center
of gravity seemed to shift downwards. I admired the shapliness of my
legs and how even the back of my knees seemed to be an erogenous zone.
I would spend some evenings playing World of Warcraft in my Julie
shape, typing chat messages to friends. They couldn't see me, of
course. They didn't realize that I was now a hottie, sitting at a
screen clad only in a bathrobe, a stray boob just poking out from
behind the towelling. That gave me a secret thrill for as long as it
lasted, but I'd always have to change back whenever we raided, as our
guild used voice chat to communicate. I contemplated creating a new
game account, a new identity in which I could be a woman all the time,
and I wondered how differently my friends would respond to a girl's
voice.
Now I could turn into a sexy girl at will, I became obsessed with
clothing and tried to see how much of my wardrobe would fit a figure
that was shorter, but curved in new places. I pulled on a T-shirt that
squashed my chest flat, then fondled my boobs through the taut fabric.
That was so arousing that I tried my swimming briefs on. They stretched
pleasingly over the plumpness of my ass but bunched into unsightly
folds at the crotch. At least there was plenty of space there to reach
a hand inside and rub my vajayjay.
My boy clothes were all the wrong cut and didn't feel comfortable or
sexy enough. I wondered what it felt like to try on some women's
clothing. One Saturday afternoon, while my parents were visiting a
distant uncle, I stayed home and nervously snuck into the sacred space
of my mother's wardrobe. Mom was in her late thirties and, my friends
reckoned, had kept her looks. Amongst the racks of clothes I found
something that I thought I could squeeze my girl form into.
I took it down from its hanger, a simple knee-length dress with a
conservative floral pattern. I stripped nude, unzipped the back and
stepped into it, feeling a thrill as I pulled it up. The dress slid up
my legs, but then got stuck at my ass. I had to spend a few minutes
working my curves into it, inch by inch. By the time I'd managed, with
some effort, to zip it (mostly) up the back, everything felt
constricted and fit to burst. I could barely move for fear of something
ripping.
I found Mom's shoes in the wardrobe and was disappointed to find, after
forcing my feet into a pair of pumps, that they pinched badly. I stood
in front of the mirror, wrapped too tight to move, my bust squashed to
overflowing while wobbling precariously on Mom's heels. I was not
comfortable, and yet the whole experience of dressing as a woman made
the experience more thrilling, more sexy. I was turned on by the sight
of myself in a dress. When I clutched my breasts through the fabric my
body responded with strong arousal, straining at the confining apparel.
There was no way I could diddle myself like this, so I levered off the
dressâ€"an operation as difficult as getting it onâ€"and looked for what
else I could try. Mom's underwear drawer netted a pair of silky panties
that stretched satisfyingly over my smooth behind. I was disappointed
to find that her bras were far too small for my capacious chest, but in
another drawer I found a striped bikini top that could just about be
made to fit, though it barely cupped my boobs
So in this mismatched outfit of bikini bra, panties and two-inch pumps,
I flopped onto my parents' bed and began to touch myself. I was now
expert in arousing my girl-body. I swiftly felt the wetness come and
then rammed my hand down the sheer front of Mom's underwear to start
the gentle stirring and flicking that would bring me to climax.
This shape was addictive. But there was something else, besides the
erotic sensation of girl flesh, that brought me back to this body. I
was now an attractive woman. I felt desirable. Who would reject someone
who looked at hot as me? People would at last pay me the attention I
never received as a guy.
I climaxed and lay panting, legs akimbo on the bed. The bikini bra was
askew on my chest, the panties were pushed down across my thighs and
those too-tight high heels dug into the bedcover. I must have looked a
mess. As I lay in the afterglow I contemplated going out dressed as a
woman, but I hadn't the guts and I had nothing that fitted.
Days passed and I soon discovered a new limitation of my powers. So
long as the imprint remained fresh, the change was easy. When I
transformed each night I retained a pristine memory of the body shape.
It would even retain changes from the night before, such as the time I
tried shaving my pubic hair, creating a stubbly patch and a couple of
small razor nicks that reappeared each time I changed.
However, if I didn't change into a form regularly, its imprint would
degrade. School and chores and late nights hanging with my friends
online in World of Warcraft finally got the better of me. Exhausted, I
began to go straight to sleep without changing as soon as I hit the
hay. So when, after skipping a couple of nights, I tried to shapeshift
again I realized that my memory of 'Julie' had partially faded.
I focussed on the imprint and felt the usual tingle of morphing, but
the result petered out into an incomplete change. It felt all wrong.
When I stripped and looked in the mirror I appeared to be half man and
half woman. I checked my face and it was partly feminized with Julie's
and nose and the mass of her soft hair framing my features. Though my
hips had widened and my ass had swelled into its familiar proportions,
my waist was still thick and below the abdomen my genitals remained
male, though shriveled and weeny. My narrow chest sported a pair of
tiny, pointed mounds like those of a pubescent girl.
I tried to play with this androgynous physique, but it didn't function
properly. My adolescent, unfilled breasts ached slightly, as if in
growing pains, and rubbing them only made them sore. It took an age to
bring my tiny dick and balls to climax. It was really difficult to jerk
myself when my penis was so small. At the moment I came barely anything
came out and the pleasure it gave was miniscule and unsatisfying.
The realization that I'd lost the woman's imprint was like a
bereavement. I had become accustomed to that body's comfort and poise
and cursed myself for letting it disappear. I'd never find that woman
again and so I sulked for a day, wondering what to do. Then I resolved
to search for some new bodies to replace hers. I picked out the most
attractive girls in my classes and found ways to imprint them without
getting too touchy-feely. I could now handle three imprints without
much distraction. It wasn't long before I had a new parade of imprinted
shapes. I could feel their exotic forms at the edges of my
consciousness.
With three girl bodies stored safely away my nights became a carnival
of solo sex, enjoyed between the sheets of my bed. The experience of
wearing the new bodies was mind-blowing.
The first shape I tried on was that of a girl named Tani. She was an
ash blonde with a nondescript, almost homely face, but her incredible
curves meant she was much in demand with the boys. It took a gentle
touch of her hand in class to capture her form. Back at home when I
changed bodies that first time I had the brief sensation of feeling
inflated, like a Michelin man. As I adjusted to the shift of fleshy
ballast my sense of balance was thrown. Then I looked in the mirror to
check myself out. Tani possessed a fabulous hourglass with a broad
carriage and heavy breasts sagging down her ribcage, aureoles like
bruised circles.
It didn't take long to put Tani's nimble fingers to work, exploring and
circumnavigating my new frame. Tani was not fat, but her voluptuousness
was such that transitioning from my lean male body to hers was like
being zippered into a padded suit. I began to play with my tits, which
hung like ripe eggplants from my chest, but found they were less
sensitive than in my last girl body. The doughy masses seemed to get in
the way when I moved and were hot and a little uncomfortable. However,
as my hands slid down below the slight swell of my/Tani's belly, I
discovered her vulva. Even before I could enter myself, I felt
something dilate and in moments I was in flood. Tani's clit was a
beautiful instrument to play with; a sleek knot of nerve-endings that
slipped beneath my fingers. Its responses were so acute that in my
nocturnal explorations I had to be careful not to moan as I stroked and
worked it towards a climax. My middle finger sucked and popped as I
thrust it in and out of Tani's, no MY wet vagina. I worked it hard
with rapid little motions, tension brewing until I crested the wave and
came. In Tani's body orgasms were vast and emotional, washing over me
in great beach-breakers, leaving me quietly sobbing, unable to staunch
the tears.
Over the days that followed I kept coming back to Tani's pillowy form.
Her pussy became mine each night and it had me entranced. I began to
use bananas, whisked from the fruit bowl, as improvised dildos,
slipping them between my lips then pushing them gently and deeper
inside until the sensation was so great I could barely breathe. Jerking
the fruit back and forwards in my vagina I seemed to discover new
spots. These broadcast dizzying thrills that made my limbs jerk and my
hips squirm. Here was a luxurious body that screamed for sex. It was a
peak I needed to come down from.
By contrast with Tani, Shelley was a slender, apple-cheeked girl with
the beautiful, elastic body of a ballerina. In class I had fallen for
her smiling eyes and toothsome grin, framed by a bob of dark hair. It
took a momentary touch when handing her a book to steal her imprint.
When I morphed into Shelley's frisky form I discovered she had the most
amazing boobs. They were small, high and barely needed any support.
They came with delightful cherry nipples that, when aroused, broadcast
intense pleasure. Immediately after changing I would rub my body
against my bed so that my tiny teats would begin to buzz.
It was the closest thing I'd yet tried to my male shape: an energetic
body with a boyish figure that was tight, taut and toned. Shelley had
shaved her pussy and it was lovely to slip my finger into her snug,
moist vagina and tenderly quest for pleasure. It was as Shelley that I
discovered how different women's bodies could be from each other. Her
clitoris was a fleshy bean that needed careful caressing. Orgasms were
less overwhelming than in Tani's form. Rather, they were like sharp
peaks of erotic sensation coursing from tip to toe and winding back up
between my legs. But unlike Tani, where each climax would leave me
spent and emotionally wrecked, as Shelley I could rouse myself to
consecutive orgasms, and often did.
I developed a new masturbation technique in Shelley's body. I would
bring myself close to climax and then change back to my boy form.
Suddenly my dick would rear up, aroused and coated in Shelley's girl
juices. With a few slick jerks of my hand I would orgasm, spurting
thick ropes of semen onto my stomach. Immediately I would change back
into a girl and lay there, cum pooling on my baby-soft belly, using my
fingers to rub the sour-smelling semen up onto my tiny, schoolgirl
boobs, where I'd lubricate the tips. I once even tried a taste and
found it wasn't that bad. I briefly fantasized about making Shelley's
body pregnant with my own seed, until cold reality dawned and made me
drop the idea like a lead anvil. I had no idea of what havoc pregnancy
would play with my power and I feared getting stuck in that form.
The last of the trio of imprints was that of Lita, a beautiful Asian
girl with a heart-shaped face and full, kissable lips. It was odd to
look in the mirror and, with a finger, gently trace the sharp
epicanthic fold above my dark brown eyes. Her body was well
proportioned, with elegant lines and shapely legs.
Lita's chest was a modest pair of ice cream scoops, with up-tilted
nipples. But I found her boobs thrilling to fondle and they felt
comfortable in a way that Tani's enormous knockers had not. Again, the
response to sex felt different than in my other shapes. In this lithe
body my orgasms were relaxing releases of nervous energy that made me
want to sink into drowsy torpor.
The best thing about Lita was that she was the same height and slim
shape as my mother. I waited until my folks went away again before I
stole once more into my parents' bedroom to play with Mom's clothes.
Naked, I slipped on a pair of four-inch pumps and discovered that Lita
could wear Mom's shoes. With a little practice I could walk in them
comfortably, my trim fanny figure-eighting as I strolled across the
room. Mom's bras were just the right size to pack my perky bosom into
and I soon found myself encased in an underwired lace brassiere and
matching panties. I felt so hot and sexy it was all I could do to stop
myself dancing.
Dresses, pants and blouses fitted perfectly and I spent an exciting day
dressing up. I learned to walk in a skirt, which felt so strange
compared to pants. I marveled at the sheerness of a peach color silk
teddy sliding against my skin. I admired myself in a side-tie bikini
while still wearing those shiny heels that seemed to elongate my nice
legs even further. I put on a black party frock and paraded up and down
the bedroom, feeling it swish around me. I knew I had here a wardrobe I
could go out in, even if it was for someone a little older.
With three bodies at my command this was the happy time. I was sorta
getting sex, even if it was by masturbating. I would change two or
three times every night to keep the imprint of each girl-shape fresh.
The power did wonders for my self-esteem and I found that even in my
male body I was beginning to act more confident and assertive in
company.
Then one day my wish came true.
"The first time it happened was when I shapechanged into a friend by
accident," I admitted, reluctantly.
"How did that happen?" asked Jo. She was starting to relax a little,
her head canted slightly so that her wavy red hair draped languidly
into her face. She'd taken her goggles off since the fight, revealing
eyes that were large, gray-tinted and beautiful. They were familiar.
I'd once looked through those eyes and I remembered the crystal clarity
of their vision. "Was it some kind of big, colorful manifestation?" she
insisted.
"No, nothing like that." I stopped to clear my throat before going on.
"Only I knew anything had happened. I was hanging with my pal and just
patted them on the shoulder, all friendly. Then there was this 'zap'
feeling as I touched them, like a small electric shock. Suddenly I
could feel their shape in my head. It was like I held the blueprints
for their body in my mind. It made me feel weird. I didn't actually
shapechange properly until later. Not 'til I got home."
There was a lot I'd left out of this description. The friend had been
Bill, my bud at school. He's a smart, funny guy. Good grades. Good
enough at sports and the social round to be at the centre of several
circles. He hung with the nerd crowd and played in our World of
Warcraft clan. He was our natural leader and the organizer of many
online raids and stunts.
That time I'd felt the zap, the experience had left me feeling so
queasy and sick that I crawled home, leaving Bill at the arcade where
we'd been hanging. I stumbled into my bed complaining of a stomachache
and asked Mom to stop fussing and leave me alone. I dozed off and when
I woke up I was in Bill's body--or at least a copy of it--looking
through his eyes and breathing his air.
"Who was this friend of yours?" Jo asked, trying to gently lever her
way past my defenses. I licked my dry lips and tried to fend her off.
"Can we leave my friends out of it, Jo?" I briefly felt assertive and
defensive of my privacy. "They have nothing to do with this. I
discovered I could touch people and get an impression of their form
from the physical contact. Once it was in my head I could change into
that imprinted form and back again."
Jo wisely let it drop. "Did you use the power much once you'd mastered
it?"
"Uh, yeah. I experimented."
Yes, I experimented. A lot.
Of course, there was Bill's body at first. I wasn't really sure how I
had come to change, and after the initial panic it was a while before I
realized that my mind seemed to hold imprints of my old and new bodies.
I could focus on the ghostly shape there and swap between his body and
mine as easy as moving from one train of thought to another. It didn't
take more than five or six seconds to transform and it was painless. My
entire body would bubble with a weird energy, then it would flow and
gel into the new shape and become solid again.
I soon discovered the power's first limitation. It didn't work on
clothes, leaving me wearing whatever I had on before the change. That
would be a source of occasional embarrassment in the times to come.
As Bill it was disconcerting to have his bulk, his muscle, his senses,
and even his man-parts. Yeah, that felt icky at first. But once I felt
comfortable shifting back and forth between forms I test-drove his
body. I was impressed by how different a climax felt; it seemed to go
on longer than in my own physique.
All this, of course, was in secret, in the warm privacy of my bedroom
or the shower; anywhere my parents couldn't see me. There was no way I
was going to tell Mom or Pop about this and I was never going to admit
amything to Bill.
I spent a week trying to figure out the power, trying to master it. I
wondered if it was a one-off so I tried imprinting other friends from
school. All it took was some handshakes and backslaps and I soon also
had the imprints of three other friends. Having four phantom shapes
floating at the back of my consciousness was distracting and made it
hard to concentrate. I was glad when, after a few days, they began to
fade away.
However, while I held their imprints each change catapulted me into an
exhilarating new world of sensation. Each body had its own signature
characteristics, slightly different from my own. John's vision had an
acuity that profoundly changed the way I looked at the universe. The
colors I saw through his eyes seemed so much more vibrant. Tanc was
blessed with sharp hearing and I could make out sounds and voices more
easily from the tumble of background noise, while Raul possessed a
sense of smell so fine that I could make out olfactory notes I never
knew existed.
There were other unexpected differences. Muscles stretched and twanged
in unfamiliar ways. John's body seemed more flexible than the others
while in Raul's form my hands felt pudgy and clumsy. Tanc's legs seemed
so long compared to my own that I kept stumbling as I walked. Shifts in
height or reach could be a minefield, as they changed my perception of
distances and space. Even mundane alterations could be striking. In
each body I had a different heartbeat, an alien breathing rhythm, the
altered tang of saliva in my mouth and the feel of a new set of teeth
against my tongue.
Practicing the changes I found I could control the imprinting so that
it didn't happen on every physical contact. The transformations were
coming easy now and the overwhelming rush of the impressions didn't
make me feel sick like the first time.
I felt I was ready to try the biggest change yet. I wanted to become a
girl.
This was something I didn't want to mention to Jo. This was all about
sex, okay? Pure gratification. I was this lanky geek, a horny teen
who'd never dated yet was forced to swim in the hormone-charged
environment of high school. I felt I was missing what other guys at
school seemed to be getting, and that was pussy.
But now I could change my physical form to whomever I was able to touch
and imprint. Who needed to date a woman if you could become one? This
fever dream began to exterminate all rational thought. I started to
fantasize about transforming into a hot chick and checking myself out.
As soon as the idea of changing into a girl began to careen across my
imagination, I began to form a plan. I wanted to become someone foxy-
looking, of course. By a shaky process of logic I concluded that I
should imprint a person I'd never met and who didn't know me. So I set
my trap at the Mall.
If this sounds like stalkerish behavior, well, I plead that this was a
victimless crime. I wasn't going to attack anyone, just touch them for
a moment, imprint their physical pattern and then I'd be gone. However,
I didn't want any awkward questions, so to disguise myself I changed
into John's tall, rangy body. His was the closest shape to mine, I
wasn't too clumsy in it and I could wear the same clothes in both
forms. I biked down to the Mall and hung about the marble air-
conditioned concourse, watching people walk by and rating the women on
a one to ten scale.
It took a while to find the right subject. Most of the women were too
old or too young, too fat or thin. There were lumpen women, saggy
women, girls with lived-in faces. There were some who looked great at a
distance and as they walked closer did not look so hot. And there were
some who were pretty, but not pretty enough. I had this great power and
arrogantly felt I could afford to pick and choose.
Eventually I saw what I wanted: she was definitely a nine out of ten, a
lovely brunette with lustrous, shoulder-length hair. The woman was a
twenty-something, with an oval face and dazzling eyes that were kissed
with a dash of green. She had a small, straight nose and a generous
mouth with inviting lips. Her figure was slim-waisted and wide-hipped,
with what looked like shapely legs beneath her pants, and she wore a
stretch top that barely contained her generous breasts. I watched them
move as she did, bobbing in sympathy with her walk. The woman's well-
tanned arms were bare, which was ideal for me to make contact, and she
was alone, window shopping outside the chic clothes stores with a bag
swinging from her shoulder. Heart in my mouth I approached her from the
side.
"Hi Julie!" I said to her, all enthusiasm and bonhomie. I had no idea
who Julie was; it was the first name that came to mind. I lightly
touched the woman's arm, just long enough to feel the zap and rush of
the imprint. Startled, her head snapped to look at me, hair whirling
and mouth open. I was momentarily transfixed; she looked really
beautiful. But before she could say anything I immediately launched
into an apology. "Oh, I'm so sorry," I said, backing out of her
personal space. "From a distance I thought you were my friend. My bad,
I'm real sorry."
"No, uh, it's okay," she said and gave an embarrassed laugh. Her voice
was light and friendly. She hadn't felt the imprint process. None of
them ever do, though I saw her hand absently brush the skin where I'd
touched her.
"Look, I'd better go!" I said, thumbing toward the exit. "I gotta find
my friend Julie. Again, I'm sorry about the mistake!" Heart-in-mouth I
dashed outside to the lonely concrete post where I'd shackled my
mountain bike. I took a moment to morph back into my own shape and then
pedaled back home as fast as my legs could take me.
I almost never made it. My limbs were shaking from the adrenalin rush
of what I'd just done. And then there was the imprint of the woman's
body, which was beginning to fill my senses.
It's hard to articulate how an imprint feels. It's like a new sense, a
spectral memory of a body shape on the edge of my consciousness. On
that bike ride I could feel the outline of this woman's physical form
and it was making me horny. My dick was so hard I could barely pedal.
This was different from the guy forms I'd impressed. Almost as if it
could touch them my mind could make out the fleshy physicality of
breasts, the curve of a waist and an unfamiliar space between my
thighs. It's a wonder I didn't orgasm in my shorts.
Back in the house, I ran thumpety-thump upstairs and locked myself in
the antiseptic privacy of the bathroom. I stripped in a hurry, clumsily
hurling off shoes, shirt and pants until they were strewn across the
floor. Then my hands, on autopilot, pushed down my shorts and began to
stroke and jerk my dick, which was hard, hot and sleek. I felt an urge
to ejaculate before I transformed. But the weight of the strange,
feminine imprint on my psyche was too great. My mind kept flicking to
the ghostly sensations of tits, ass and clit. The feeling of male
orgasm began to build, but I couldn't stop the deep desire to change
from overwhelming me. Just as I was about to come I began to morph and
my penis shrunk back out of my hands. I was suddenly robbed of my
ability to orgasm, leaving a momentary ache where my balls had been. In
seconds, I was all woman, standing naked save for the shorts pooling
around my ankles. In the bathroom mirror I could see a bloom of sweat
across my heaving chest while the hand that had held my dick now
grasped at empty air in front of my pussy.
Not for the first time I was to discover that there's a disjoint
between looking at a pretty girl and actually occupying her body. This
is especially true when your only experience of hot women comes from
airbrushed photos on the internet. There's a rude reality you have to
face up to. This close I could see the myriad tiny flaws of a real
woman's form. I had fine hairs on my arms, enlarged pores on my skin,
tiny wrinkles near my eyes and a barely perceptible bend in my nose,
along with a dozen other irritating defects. Already my long, dark hair
was wandering into my face to itch and scratch at my nose and my hands
rose up to flick it away with long-nailed fingers.
Suddenly I was aware of padding in places that were unfamiliar. My ass
and thighs felt unusually plump, as if the world around my tuchas began
a long way away. Then there was the mass of flesh tugging at my chest
muscles. I had breasts that were big, but without a bra to hold them
they just sagged back against my body and looked uneven, one larger
than the other.
My cans were nothing like the firm mountains I'd imagined they'd be.
They shivered like jello and yielded to the slightest touch. A tracery
of veins tracked across a skin that blazed with pale bikini triangles.
My hands mashed my boobs then lifted them, feeling their heft and
fleshy weight. Something carnal stirred in my chest and crotch as
fingernails brushed the hardening blobs of my redcurrant nipples and
their large surrounds. It was different from a hard-on. This arousal
was more like a heavy heat that made my skin more sensitive, that made
me conscious of the secret new spaces inside of me.
Suddenly the flaws didn't matter any more and my hands were all over my
body. It was almost like I didn't have enough fingers to stroke, touch
and pinch at all the parts of my new physique. Playing with my breasts
was sensational, feeling a horny thrill prickle back from behind the
teats and make its way to my cootchie, which became tremendously wet. I
hadn't anticipated how rapidly this warmth and moistness in my loins
would build. My face flushed and I felt as if I was starting to glow.
As the excitement increased I caressed my flat belly, with its firm
abs, and cupped the swell of my ass. It was a lovely peach-skinned
behind, soft and satisfyingly round.
And then, after exploring the slick sensitivity of my inner thighs,
which staggered me and almost made me fall on the floor, I began to
quest at the soft folds of skin around my vagina. I was about to slip
one nailed finger gingerly in to the hot wetness when a voice from
downstairs rose up and drenched me like a cold shower. It was Mom
calling me down for lunch. I cursed a streak in a soft soprano and then
stood there, staring angrily around the spotless expanse of the
bathroom. The spell was broken and the exquisite sexual heat of my
girl-body was cooling. Reluctantly, I focused for long enough to shift
back to my own shape, feeling its bony angles develop and my balls
drop. I felt a deep resentment at having to give up the exotic
experience of being a woman and return to my original form. I wiped
myself where girl-juices had dripped a slick, solitary trail down the
inside of one thigh, then got dressed and went downstairs to a
miserable meal.
From that day on I would have to hunt for private moments to explore my
feminine form. Often this was at night when I was safe in bed and the
house was suspended in sleep. In the stillness, with the warm urban
nightlight filtering through the blinds, I'd transform beneath the
sheets. My skinny awkwardness would subside and swell into supple
curves, reshaping the bedclothes. My head would suddenly be pillowed by
a mass of soft hair.
I'd lay there for a while, absorbing the new rhythms, the breathing and
heartbeat, of this limber body. I'd taste my sweet saliva and explore
my perfect, regular teeth with my tongue. Then slowly, in an act of
seduction, I'd start to play with myself in the dark. Slim hands would
flutter across my breasts as they puddled on my chest. Fingers would
delicately pluck at my sweet teats, teasing them rigid and making my
body writhe in response before my hand slid down across my belly and a
ragged thatch of pubic hair to reach the entrance to my vulva. There,
sliding into the folds of flesh, I was able to explore the hot
moistness, hunt out my clitoris and press it to make my back arch. Then
I'd enjoy the sensation of my fingers inside of me. I liked to withdraw
a wet digit and taste myself; lapping with my tongue at the hot musk of
my sex.
The first time I climaxed it was difficult to keep the noise down and I
lay in bed, gasping, feeling buzzy and blissed out. It was nothing like
the urgent surge of my male orgasms. This was more like a tide, a rise
and fall of sensation and emotion. Exhausted, I dozed off, still
encased in a female body. I was fortunate not to be discovered before I
woke and could change back.
I kept this pattern of exploration up for almost two weeks, excited by
my female shape and entranced by its otherness. I'd lock myself in my
room all evening, enjoying the experience of being a woman. I felt more
relaxed in this form, and was becoming increasingly comfortable with
it. As the sensation of breasts and vagina became familiar, I started
to appreciate the rest of what I thought of as my 'Julie body'. I loved
the line formed by my slim waist and broad hips, and the way my center
of gravity seemed to shift downwards. I admired the shapliness of my
legs and how even the back of my knees seemed to be an erogenous zone.
I would spend some evenings playing World of Warcraft in my Julie
shape, typing chat messages to friends. They couldn't see me, of
course. They didn't realize that I was now a hottie, sitting at a
screen clad only in a bathrobe, a stray boob just poking out from
behind the towelling. That gave me a secret thrill for as long as it
lasted, but I'd always have to change back whenever we raided, as our
guild used voice chat to communicate. I contemplated creating a new
game account, a new identity in which I could be a woman all the time,
and I wondered how differently my friends would respond to a girl's
voice.
Now I could turn into a sexy girl at will, I became obsessed with
clothing and tried to see how much of my wardrobe would fit a figure
that was shorter, but curved in new places. I pulled on a T-shirt that
squashed my chest flat, then fondled my boobs through the taut fabric.
That was so arousing that I tried my swimming briefs on. They stretched
pleasingly over the plumpness of my ass but bunched into unsightly
folds at the crotch. At least there was plenty of space there to reach
a hand inside and rub my vajayjay.
My boy clothes were all the wrong cut and didn't feel comfortable or
sexy enough. I wondered what it felt like to try on some women's
clothing. One Saturday afternoon, while my parents were visiting a
distant uncle, I stayed home and nervously snuck into the sacred space
of my mother's wardrobe. Mom was in her late thirties and, my friends
reckoned, had kept her looks. Amongst the racks of clothes I found
something that I thought I could squeeze my girl form into.
I took it down from its hanger, a simple knee-length dress with a
conservative floral pattern. I stripped nude, unzipped the back and
stepped into it, feeling a thrill as I pulled it up. The dress slid up
my legs, but then got stuck at my ass. I had to spend a few minutes
working my curves into it, inch by inch. By the time I'd managed, with
some effort, to zip it (mostly) up the back, everything felt
constricted and fit to burst. I could barely move for fear of something
ripping.
I found Mom's shoes in the wardrobe and was disappointed to find, after
forcing my feet into a pair of pumps, that they pinched badly. I stood
in front of the mirror, wrapped too tight to move, my bust squashed to
overflowing while wobbling precariously on Mom's heels. I was not
comfortable, and yet the whole experience of dressing as a woman made
the experience more thrilling, more sexy. I was turned on by the sight
of myself in a dress. When I clutched my breasts through the fabric my
body responded with strong arousal, straining at the confining apparel.
There was no way I could diddle myself like this, so I levered off the
dressâ€"an operation as difficult as getting it onâ€"and looked for what
else I could try. Mom's underwear drawer netted a pair of silky panties
that stretched satisfyingly over my smooth behind. I was disappointed
to find that her bras were far too small for my capacious chest, but in
another drawer I found a striped bikini top that could just about be
made to fit, though it barely cupped my boobs
So in this mismatched outfit of bikini bra, panties and two-inch pumps,
I flopped onto my parents' bed and began to touch myself. I was now
expert in arousing my girl-body. I swiftly felt the wetness come and
then rammed my hand down the sheer front of Mom's underwear to start
the gentle stirring and flicking that would bring me to climax.
This shape was addictive. But there was something else, besides the
erotic sensation of girl flesh, that brought me back to this body. I
was now an attractive woman. I felt desirable. Who would reject someone
who looked at hot as me? People would at last pay me the attention I
never received as a guy.
I climaxed and lay panting, legs akimbo on the bed. The bikini bra was
askew on my chest, the panties were pushed down across my thighs and
those too-tight high heels dug into the bedcover. I must have looked a
mess. As I lay in the afterglow I contemplated going out dressed as a
woman, but I hadn't the guts and I had nothing that fitted.
Days passed and I soon discovered a new limitation of my powers. So
long as the imprint remained fresh, the change was easy. When I
transformed each night I retained a pristine memory of the body shape.
It would even retain changes from the night before, such as the time I
tried shaving my pubic hair, creating a stubbly patch and a couple of
small razor nicks that reappeared each time I changed.
However, if I didn't change into a form regularly, its imprint would
degrade. School and chores and late nights hanging with my friends
online in World of Warcraft finally got the better of me. Exhausted, I
began to go straight to sleep without changing as soon as I hit the
hay. So when, after skipping a couple of nights, I tried to shapeshift
again I realized that my memory of 'Julie' had partially faded.
I focussed on the imprint and felt the usual tingle of morphing, but
the result petered out into an incomplete change. It felt all wrong.
When I stripped and looked in the mirror I appeared to be half man and
half woman. I checked my face and it was partly feminized with Julie's
and nose and the mass of her soft hair framing my features. Though my
hips had widened and my ass had swelled into its familiar proportions,
my waist was still thick and below the abdomen my genitals remained
male, though shriveled and weeny. My narrow chest sported a pair of
tiny, pointed mounds like those of a pubescent girl.
I tried to play with this androgynous physique, but it didn't function
properly. My unfilled breasts ached slightly, as if in
growing pains, and rubbing them only made them sore. It took an age to
bring my tiny dick and balls to climax. It was really difficult to jerk
myself when my penis was so small. At the moment I came barely anything
came out and the pleasure it gave was miniscule and unsatisfying.
The realization that I'd lost the woman's imprint was like a
bereavement. I had become accustomed to that body's comfort and poise
and cursed myself for letting it disappear. I'd never find that woman
again and so I sulked for a day, wondering what to do. Then I resolved
to search for some new bodies to replace hers. I picked out the most
attractive girls in my classes and found ways to imprint them without
getting too touchy-feely. I could now handle three imprints without
much distraction. It wasn't long before I had a new parade of imprinted
shapes. I could feel their exotic forms at the edges of my
consciousness.
With three girl bodies stored safely away my nights became a carnival
of solo sex, enjoyed between the sheets of my bed. The experience of
wearing the new bodies was mind-blowing.
The first shape I tried on was that of a girl named Tani. She was an
ash blonde with a nondescript, almost homely face, but her incredible
curves meant she was much in demand with the boys. It took a gentle
touch of her hand in class to capture her form. Back at home when I
changed bodies that first time I had the brief sensation of feeling
inflated, like a Michelin man. As I adjusted to the shift of fleshy
ballast my sense of balance was thrown. Then I looked in the mirror to
check myself out. Tani possessed a fabulous hourglass with a broad
carriage and heavy breasts sagging down her ribcage, aureoles like
bruised circles.
It didn't take long to put Tani's nimble fingers to work, exploring and
circumnavigating my new frame. Tani was not fat, but her voluptuousness
was such that transitioning from my lean male body to hers was like
being zippered into a padded suit. I began to play with my tits, which
hung like ripe eggplants from my chest, but found they were less
sensitive than in my last girl body. The doughy masses seemed to get in
the way when I moved and were hot and a little uncomfortable. However,
as my hands slid down below the slight swell of my/Tani's belly, I
discovered her vulva. Even before I could enter myself, I felt
something dilate and in moments I was in flood. Tani's clit was a
beautiful instrument to play with; a sleek knot of nerve-endings that
slipped beneath my fingers. Its responses were so acute that in my
nocturnal explorations I had to be careful not to moan as I stroked and
worked it towards a climax. My middle finger sucked and popped as I
thrust it in and out of Tani's, no MY wet vagina. I worked it hard
with rapid little motions, tension brewing until I crested the wave and
came. In Tani's body orgasms were vast and emotional, washing over me
in great beach-breakers, leaving me quietly sobbing, unable to staunch
the tears.
Over the days that followed I kept coming back to Tani's pillowy form.
Her pussy became mine each night and it had me entranced. I began to
use bananas, whisked from the fruit bowl, as improvised dildos,
slipping them between my lips then pushing them gently and deeper
inside until the sensation was so great I could barely breathe. Jerking
the fruit back and forwards in my vagina I seemed to discover new
spots. These broadcast dizzying thrills that made my limbs jerk and my
hips squirm. Here was a luxurious body that screamed for sex. It was a
peak I needed to come down from.
By contrast with Tani, Shelley was a slender, apple-cheeked girl with
the beautiful, elastic body of a ballerina. In class I had fallen for
her smiling eyes and toothsome grin, framed by a bob of dark hair. It
took a momentary touch when handing her a book to steal her imprint.
When I morphed into Shelley's frisky form I discovered she had the most
amazing boobs. They were small, high and barely needed any support.
They came with delightful cherry nipples that, when aroused, broadcast
intense pleasure. Immediately after changing I would rub my body
against my bed so that my tiny teats would begin to buzz.
It was the closest thing I'd yet tried to my male shape: an energetic
body with a boyish figure that was tight, taut and toned. Shelley had
shaved her pussy and it was lovely to slip my finger into her snug,
moist vagina and tenderly quest for pleasure. It was as Shelley that I
discovered how different women's bodies could be from each other. Her
clitoris was a fleshy bean that needed careful caressing. Orgasms were
less overwhelming than in Tani's form. Rather, they were like sharp
peaks of erotic sensation coursing from tip to toe and winding back up
between my legs. But unlike Tani, where each climax would leave me
spent and emotionally wrecked, as Shelley I could rouse myself to
consecutive orgasms, and often did.
I developed a new masturbation technique in Shelley's body. I would
bring myself close to climax and then change back to my boy form.
Suddenly my dick would rear up, aroused and coated in Shelley's girl
juices. With a few slick jerks of my hand I would orgasm, spurting
thick ropes of semen onto my stomach. Immediately I would change back
into a girl and lay there, cum pooling on my baby-soft belly, using my
fingers to rub the sour-smelling semen up onto my tiny
boobs, where I'd lubricate the tips. I once even tried a taste and
found it wasn't that bad. I briefly fantasized about making Shelley's
body pregnant with my own seed, until cold reality dawned and made me
drop the idea like a lead anvil. I had no idea of what havoc pregnancy
would play with my power and I feared getting stuck in that form.
The last of the trio of imprints was that of Lita, a beautiful Asian
girl with a heart-shaped face and full, kissable lips. It was odd to
look in the mirror and, with a finger, gently trace the sharp
epicanthic fold above my dark brown eyes. Her body was well
proportioned, with elegant lines and shapely legs.
Lita's chest was a modest pair of ice cream scoops, with up-tilted
nipples. But I found her boobs thrilling to fondle and they felt
comfortable in a way that Tani's enormous knockers had not. Again, the
response to sex felt different than in my other shapes. In this lithe
body my orgasms were relaxing releases of nervous energy that made me
want to sink into drowsy torpor.
The best thing about Lita was that she was the same height and slim
shape as my mother. I waited until my folks went away again before I
stole once more into my parents' bedroom to play with Mom's clothes.
Naked, I slipped on a pair of four-inch pumps and discovered that Lita
could wear Mom's shoes. With a little practice I could walk in them
comfortably, my trim fanny figure-eighting as I strolled across the
room. Mom's bras were just the right size to pack my perky bosom into
and I soon found myself encased in an underwired lace brassiere and
matching panties. I felt so hot and sexy it was all I could do to stop
myself dancing.
Dresses, pants and blouses fitted perfectly and I spent an exciting day
dressing up. I learned to walk in a skirt, which felt so strange
compared to pants. I marveled at the sheerness of a peach color silk
teddy sliding against my skin. I admired myself in a side-tie bikini
while still wearing those shiny heels that seemed to elongate my nice
legs even further. I put on a black party frock and paraded up and down
the bedroom, feeling it swish around me. I knew I had here a wardrobe I
could go out in, even if it was for someone a little older.
With three bodies at my command this was the happy time. I was sorta
getting sex, even if it was by masturbating. I would change two or
three times every night to keep the imprint of each girl-shape fresh.
The power did wonders for my self-esteem and I found that even in my
male body I was beginning to act more confident and assertive in
company.
"The first time it happened was when I shapechanged into a friend by
accident," I admitted, reluctantly.
"How did that happen?" asked Jo. She was starting to relax a little,
her head canted slightly so that her wavy red hair draped languidly
into her face. She'd taken her goggles off since the fight, revealing
eyes that were large, gray-tinted and beautiful. They were familiar.
I'd once looked through those eyes and I remembered the crystal clarity
of their vision. "Was it some kind of big, colorful manifestation?" she
insisted.
"No, nothing like that." I stopped to clear my throat before going on.
"Only I knew anything had happened. I was hanging with my pal and just
patted them on the shoulder, all friendly. Then there was this 'zap'
feeling as I touched them, like a small electric shock. Suddenly I
could feel their shape in my head. It was like I held the blueprints
for their body in my mind. It made me feel weird. I didn't actually
shapechange properly until later. Not 'til I got home."
There was a lot I'd left out of this description. The friend had been
Bill, my bud at school. He's a smart, funny guy. Good grades. Good
enough at sports and the social round to be at the centre of several
circles. He hung with the nerd crowd and played in our World of
Warcraft clan. He was our natural leader and the organizer of many
online raids and stunts.
That time I'd felt the zap, the experience had left me feeling so
queasy and sick that I crawled home, leaving Bill at the arcade where
we'd been hanging. I stumbled into my bed complaining of a stomachache
and asked Mom to stop fussing and leave me alone. I dozed off and when
I woke up I was in Bill's body--or at least a copy of it--looking
through his eyes and breathing his air.
"Who was this friend of yours?" Jo asked, trying to gently lever her
way past my defenses. I licked my dry lips and tried to fend her off.
"Can we leave my friends out of it, Jo?" I briefly felt assertive and
defensive of my privacy. "They have nothing to do with this. I
discovered I could touch people and get an impression of their form
from the physical contact. Once it was in my head I could change into
that imprinted form and back again."
Jo wisely let it drop. "Did you use the power much once you'd mastered
it?"
"Uh, yeah. I experimented."
Yes, I experimented. A lot.
Of course, there was Bill's body at first. I wasn't really sure how I
had come to change, and after the initial panic it was a while before I
realized that my mind seemed to hold imprints of my old and new bodies.
I could focus on the ghostly shape there and swap between his body and
mine as easy as moving from one train of thought to another. It didn't
take more than five or six seconds to transform and it was painless. My
entire body would bubble with a weird energy, then it would flow and
gel into the new shape and become solid again.
I soon discovered the power's first limitation. It didn't work on
clothes, leaving me wearing whatever I had on before the change. That
would be a source of occasional embarrassment in the times to come.
As Bill it was disconcerting to have his bulk, his muscle, his senses,
and even his man-parts. Yeah, that felt icky at first. But once I felt
comfortable shifting back and forth between forms I test-drove his
body. I was impressed by how different a climax felt; it seemed to go
on longer than in my own physique.
All this, of course, was in secret, in the warm privacy of my bedroom
or the shower; anywhere my parents couldn't see me. There was no way I
was going to tell Mom or Pop about this and I was never going to admit
amything to Bill.
I spent a week trying to figure out the power, trying to master it. I
wondered if it was a one-off so I tried imprinting other friends from
school. All it took was some handshakes and backslaps and I soon also
had the imprints of three other friends. Having four phantom shapes
floating at the back of my consciousness was distracting and made it
hard to concentrate. I was glad when, after a few days, they began to
fade away.
However, while I held their imprints each change catapulted me into an
exhilarating new world of sensation. Each body had its own signature
characteristics, slightly different from my own. John's vision had an
acuity that profoundly changed the way I looked at the universe. The
colors I saw through his eyes seemed so much more vibrant. Tanc was
blessed with sharp hearing and I could make out sounds and voices more
easily from the tumble of background noise, while Raul possessed a
sense of smell so fine that I could make out olfactory notes I never
knew existed.
There were other unexpected differences. Muscles stretched and twanged
in unfamiliar ways. John's body seemed more flexible than the others
while in Raul's form my hands felt pudgy and clumsy. Tanc's legs seemed
so long compared to my own that I kept stumbling as I walked. Shifts in
height or reach could be a minefield, as they changed my perception of
distances and space. Even mundane alterations could be striking. In
each body I had a different heartbeat, an alien breathing rhythm, the
altered tang of saliva in my mouth and the feel of a new set of teeth
against my tongue.
Practicing the changes I found I could control the imprinting so that
it didn't happen on every physical contact. The transformations were
coming easy now and the overwhelming rush of the impressions didn't
make me feel sick like the first time.
I felt I was ready to try the biggest change yet. I wanted to become a
girl.
This was something I didn't want to mention to Jo. This was all about
sex, okay? Pure gratification. I was this lanky geek, a horny teen
who'd never dated yet was forced to swim in the hormone-charged
environment of high school. I felt I was missing what other guys at
school seemed to be getting, and that was pussy.
But now I could change my physical form to whomever I was able to touch
and imprint. Who needed to date a woman if you could become one? This
fever dream began to exterminate all rational thought. I started to
fantasize about transforming into a hot chick and checking myself out.
As soon as the idea of changing into a girl began to careen across my
imagination, I began to form a plan. I wanted to become someone foxy-
looking, of course. By a shaky process of logic I concluded that I
should imprint a person I'd never met and who didn't know me. So I set
my trap at the Mall.
If this sounds like stalkerish behavior, well, I plead that this was a
victimless crime. I wasn't going to attack anyone, just touch them for
a moment, imprint their physical pattern and then I'd be gone. However,
I didn't want any awkward questions, so to disguise myself I changed
into John's tall, rangy body. His was the closest shape to mine, I
wasn't too clumsy in it and I could wear the same clothes in both
forms. I biked down to the Mall and hung about the marble air-
conditioned concourse, watching people walk by and rating the women on
a one to ten scale.
It took a while to find the right subject. Most of the women were too
old or too young, too fat or thin. There were lumpen women, saggy
women, girls with lived-in faces. There were some who looked great at a
distance and as they walked closer did not look so hot. And there were
some who were pretty, but not pretty enough. I had this great power and
arrogantly felt I could afford to pick and choose.
Eventually I saw what I wanted: she was definitely a nine out of ten, a
lovely brunette with lustrous, shoulder-length hair. The woman was a
twenty-something, with an oval face and dazzling eyes that were kissed
with a dash of green. She had a small, straight nose and a generous
mouth with inviting lips. Her figure was slim-waisted and wide-hipped,
with what looked like shapely legs beneath her pants, and she wore a
stretch top that barely contained her generous breasts. I watched them
move as she did, bobbing in sympathy with her walk. The woman's well-
tanned arms were bare, which was ideal for me to make contact, and she
was alone, window shopping outside the chic clothes stores with a bag
swinging from her shoulder. Heart in my mouth I approached her from the
side.
"Hi Julie!" I said to her, all enthusiasm and bonhomie. I had no idea
who Julie was; it was the first name that came to mind. I lightly
touched the woman's arm, just long enough to feel the zap and rush of
the imprint. Startled, her head snapped to look at me, hair whirling
and mouth open. I was momentarily transfixed; she looked really
beautiful. But before she could say anything I immediately launched
into an apology. "Oh, I'm so sorry," I said, backing out of her
personal space. "From a distance I thought you were my friend. My bad,
I'm real sorry."
"No, uh, it's okay," she said and gave an embarrassed laugh. Her voice
was light and friendly. She hadn't felt the imprint process. None of
them ever do, though I saw her hand absently brush the skin where I'd
touched her.
"Look, I'd better go!" I said, thumbing toward the exit. "I gotta find
my friend Julie. Again, I'm sorry about the mistake!" Heart-in-mouth I
dashed outside to the lonely concrete post where I'd shackled my
mountain bike. I took a moment to morph back into my own shape and then
pedaled back home as fast as my legs could take me.
I almost never made it. My limbs were shaking from the adrenalin rush
of what I'd just done. And then there was the imprint of the woman's
body, which was beginning to fill my senses.
It's hard to articulate how an imprint feels. It's like a new sense, a
spectral memory of a body shape on the edge of my consciousness. On
that bike ride I could feel the outline of this woman's physical form
and it was making me horny. My dick was so hard I could barely pedal.
This was different from the guy forms I'd impressed. Almost as if it
could touch them my mind could make out the fleshy physicality of
breasts, the curve of a waist and an unfamiliar space between my
thighs. It's a wonder I didn't orgasm in my shorts.
Back in the house, I ran thumpety-thump upstairs and locked myself in
the antiseptic privacy of the bathroom. I stripped in a hurry, clumsily
hurling off shoes, shirt and pants until they were strewn across the
floor. Then my hands, on autopilot, pushed down my shorts and began to
stroke and jerk my dick, which was hard, hot and sleek. I felt an urge
to ejaculate before I transformed. But the weight of the strange,
feminine imprint on my psyche was too great. My mind kept flicking to
the ghostly sensations of tits, ass and clit. The feeling of male
orgasm began to build, but I couldn't stop the deep desire to change
from overwhelming me. Just as I was about to come I began to morph and
my penis shrunk back out of my hands. I was suddenly robbed of my
ability to orgasm, leaving a momentary ache where my balls had been. In
seconds, I was all woman, standing naked save for the shorts pooling
around my ankles. In the bathroom mirror I could see a bloom of sweat
across my heaving chest while the hand that had held my dick now
grasped at empty air in front of my pussy.
Not for the first time I was to discover that there's a disjoint
between looking at a pretty girl and actually occupying her body. This
is especially true when your only experience of hot women comes from
airbrushed photos on the internet. There's a rude reality you have to
face up to. This close I could see the myriad tiny flaws of a real
woman's form. I had fine hairs on my arms, enlarged pores on my skin,
tiny wrinkles near my eyes and a barely perceptible bend in my nose,
along with a dozen other irritating defects. Already my long, dark hair
was wandering into my face to itch and scratch at my nose and my hands
rose up to flick it away with long-nailed fingers.
Suddenly I was aware of padding in places that were unfamiliar. My ass
and thighs felt unusually plump, as if the world around my tuchas began
a long way away. Then there was the mass of flesh tugging at my chest
muscles. I had breasts that were big, but without a bra to hold them
they just sagged back against my body and looked uneven, one larger
than the other.
My cans were nothing like the firm mountains I'd imagined they'd be.
They shivered like jello and yielded to the slightest touch. A tracery
of veins tracked across a skin that blazed with pale bikini triangles.
My hands mashed my boobs then lifted them, feeling their heft and
fleshy weight. Something carnal stirred in my chest and crotch as
fingernails brushed the hardening blobs of my redcurrant nipples and
their large surrounds. It was different from a hard-on. This arousal
was more like a heavy heat that made my skin more sensitive, that made
me conscious of the secret new spaces inside of me.
Suddenly the flaws didn't matter any more and my hands were all over my
body. It was almost like I didn't have enough fingers to stroke, touch
and pinch at all the parts of my new physique. Playing with my breasts
was sensational, feeling a horny thrill prickle back from behind the
teats and make its way to my cootchie, which became tremendously wet. I
hadn't anticipated how rapidly this warmth and moistness in my loins
would build. My face flushed and I felt as if I was starting to glow.
As the excitement increased I caressed my flat belly, with its firm
abs, and cupped the swell of my ass. It was a lovely peach-skinned
behind, soft and satisfyingly round.
And then, after exploring the slick sensitivity of my inner thighs,
which staggered me and almost made me fall on the floor, I began to
quest at the soft folds of skin around my vagina. I was about to slip
one nailed finger gingerly in to the hot wetness when a voice from
downstairs rose up and drenched me like a cold shower. It was Mom
calling me down for lunch. I cursed a streak in a soft soprano and then
stood there, staring angrily around the spotless expanse of the
bathroom. The spell was broken and the exquisite sexual heat of my
girl-body was cooling. Reluctantly, I focused for long enough to shift
back to my own shape, feeling its bony angles develop and my balls
drop. I felt a deep resentment at having to give up the exotic
experience of being a woman and return to my original form. I wiped
myself where girl-juices had dripped a slick, solitary trail down the
inside of one thigh, then got dressed and went downstairs to a
miserable meal.
From that day on I would have to hunt for private moments to explore my
feminine form. Often this was at night when I was safe in bed and the
house was suspended in sleep. In the stillness, with the warm urban
nightlight filtering through the blinds, I'd transform beneath the
sheets. My skinny awkwardness would subside and swell into supple
curves, reshaping the bedclothes. My head would suddenly be pillowed by
a mass of soft hair.
I'd lay there for a while, absorbing the new rhythms, the breathing and
heartbeat, of this limber body. I'd taste my sweet saliva and explore
my perfect, regular teeth with my tongue. Then slowly, in an act of
seduction, I'd start to play with myself in the dark. Slim hands would
flutter across my breasts as they puddled on my chest. Fingers would
delicately pluck at my sweet teats, teasing them rigid and making my
body writhe in response before my hand slid down across my belly and a
ragged thatch of pubic hair to reach the entrance to my vulva. There,
sliding into the folds of flesh, I was able to explore the hot
moistness, hunt out my clitoris and press it to make my back arch. Then
I'd enjoy the sensation of my fingers inside of me. I liked to withdraw
a wet digit and taste myself; lapping with my tongue at the hot musk of
my sex.
The first time I climaxed it was difficult to keep the noise down and I
lay in bed, gasping, feeling buzzy and blissed out. It was nothing like
the urgent surge of my male orgasms. This was more like a tide, a rise
and fall of sensation and emotion. Exhausted, I dozed off, still
encased in a female body. I was fortunate not to be discovered before I
woke and could change back.
I kept this pattern of exploration up for almost two weeks, excited by
my female shape and entranced by its otherness. I'd lock myself in my
room all evening, enjoying the experience of being a woman. I felt more
relaxed in this form, and was becoming increasingly comfortable with
it. As the sensation of breasts and vagina became familiar, I started
to appreciate the rest of what I thought of as my 'Julie body'. I loved
the line formed by my slim waist and broad hips, and the way my center
of gravity seemed to shift downwards. I admired the shapliness of my
legs and how even the back of my knees seemed to be an erogenous zone.
I would spend some evenings playing World of Warcraft in my Julie
shape, typing chat messages to friends. They couldn't see me, of
course. They didn't realize that I was now a hottie, sitting at a
screen clad only in a bathrobe, a stray boob just poking out from
behind the towelling. That gave me a secret thrill for as long as it
lasted, but I'd always have to change back whenever we raided, as our
guild used voice chat to communicate. I contemplated creating a new
game account, a new identity in which I could be a woman all the time,
and I wondered how differently my friends would respond to a girl's
voice.
Now I could turn into a sexy girl at will, I became obsessed with
clothing and tried to see how much of my wardrobe would fit a figure
that was shorter, but curved in new places. I pulled on a T-shirt that
squashed my chest flat, then fondled my boobs through the taut fabric.
That was so arousing that I tried my swimming briefs on. They stretched
pleasingly over the plumpness of my ass but bunched into unsightly
folds at the crotch. At least there was plenty of space there to reach
a hand inside and rub my vajayjay.
My boy clothes were all the wrong cut and didn't feel comfortable or
sexy enough. I wondered what it felt like to try on some women's
clothing. One Saturday afternoon, while my parents were visiting a
distant uncle, I stayed home and nervously snuck into the sacred space
of my mother's wardrobe. Mom was in her late thirties and, my friends
reckoned, had kept her looks. Amongst the racks of clothes I found
something that I thought I could squeeze my girl form into.
I took it down from its hanger, a simple knee-length dress with a
conservative floral pattern. I stripped nude, unzipped the back and
stepped into it, feeling a thrill as I pulled it up. The dress slid up
my legs, but then got stuck at my ass. I had to spend a few minutes
working my curves into it, inch by inch. By the time I'd managed, with
some effort, to zip it (mostly) up the back, everything felt
constricted and fit to burst. I could barely move for fear of something
ripping.
I found Mom's shoes in the wardrobe and was disappointed to find, after
forcing my feet into a pair of pumps, that they pinched badly. I stood
in front of the mirror, wrapped too tight to move, my bust squashed to
overflowing while wobbling precariously on Mom's heels. I was not
comfortable, and yet the whole experience of dressing as a woman made
the experience more thrilling, more sexy. I was turned on by the sight
of myself in a dress. When I clutched my breasts through the fabric my
body responded with strong arousal, straining at the confining apparel.
There was no way I could diddle myself like this, so I levered off the
dressâ€"an operation as difficult as getting it onâ€"and looked for what
else I could try. Mom's underwear drawer netted a pair of silky panties
that stretched satisfyingly over my smooth behind. I was disappointed
to find that her bras were far too small for my capacious chest, but in
another drawer I found a striped bikini top that could just about be
made to fit, though it barely cupped my boobs
So in this mismatched outfit of bikini bra, panties and two-inch pumps,
I flopped onto my parents' bed and began to touch myself. I was now
expert in arousing my girl-body. I swiftly felt the wetness come and
then rammed my hand down the sheer front of Mom's underwear to start
the gentle stirring and flicking that would bring me to climax.
This shape was addictive. But there was something else, besides the
erotic sensation of girl flesh, that brought me back to this body. I
was now an attractive woman. I felt desirable. Who would reject someone
who looked at hot as me? People would at last pay me the attention I
never received as a guy.
I climaxed and lay panting, legs akimbo on the bed. The bikini bra was
askew on my chest, the panties were pushed down across my thighs and
those too-tight high heels dug into the bedcover. I must have looked a
mess. As I lay in the afterglow I contemplated going out dressed as a
woman, but I hadn't the guts and I had nothing that fitted.
Days passed and I soon discovered a new limitation of my powers. So
long as the imprint remained fresh, the change was easy. When I
transformed each night I retained a pristine memory of the body shape.
It would even retain changes from the night before, such as the time I
tried shaving my pubic hair, creating a stubbly patch and a couple of
small razor nicks that reappeared each time I changed.
However, if I didn't change into a form regularly, its imprint would
degrade. School and chores and late nights hanging with my friends
online in World of Warcraft finally got the better of me. Exhausted, I
began to go straight to sleep without changing as soon as I hit the
hay. So when, after skipping a couple of nights, I tried to shapeshift
again I realized that my memory of 'Julie' had partially faded.
I focussed on the imprint and felt the usual tingle of morphing, but
the result petered out into an incomplete change. It felt all wrong.
When I stripped and looked in the mirror I appeared to be half man and
half woman. I checked my face and it was partly feminized with Julie's
and nose and the mass of her soft hair framing my features. Though my
hips had widened and my ass had swelled into its familiar proportions,
my waist was still thick and below the abdomen my genitals remained
male, though shriveled and weeny. My narrow chest sported a pair of
tiny, pointed mounds like those of a pubescent girl.
I tried to play with this androgynous physique, but it didn't function
properly. My adolescent, unfilled breasts ached slightly, as if in
growing pains, and rubbing them only made them sore. It took an age to
bring my tiny dick and balls to climax. It was really difficult to jerk
myself when my penis was so small. At the moment I came barely anything
came out and the pleasure it gave was miniscule and unsatisfying.
The realization that I'd lost the woman's imprint was like a
bereavement. I had become accustomed to that body's comfort and poise
and cursed myself for letting it disappear. I'd never find that woman
again and so I sulked for a day, wondering what to do. Then I resolved
to search for some new bodies to replace hers. I picked out the most
attractive girls in my classes and found ways to imprint them without
getting too touchy-feely. I could now handle three imprints without
much distraction. It wasn't long before I had a new parade of imprinted
shapes. I could feel their exotic forms at the edges of my
consciousness.
With three girl bodies stored safely away my nights became a carnival
of solo sex, enjoyed between the sheets of my bed. The experience of
wearing the new bodies was mind-blowing.
The first shape I tried on was that of a girl named Tani. She was an
ash blonde with a nondescript, almost homely face, but her incredible
curves meant she was much in demand with the boys. It took a gentle
touch of her hand in class to capture her form. Back at home when I
changed bodies that first time I had the brief sensation of feeling
inflated, like a Michelin man. As I adjusted to the shift of fleshy
ballast my sense of balance was thrown. Then I looked in the mirror to
check myself out. Tani possessed a fabulous hourglass with a broad
carriage and heavy breasts sagging down her ribcage, aureoles like
bruised circles.
It didn't take long to put Tani's nimble fingers to work, exploring and
circumnavigating my new frame. Tani was not fat, but her voluptuousness
was such that transitioning from my lean male body to hers was like
being zippered into a padded suit. I began to play with my tits, which
hung like ripe eggplants from my chest, but found they were less
sensitive than in my last girl body. The doughy masses seemed to get in
the way when I moved and were hot and a little uncomfortable. However,
as my hands slid down below the slight swell of my/Tani's belly, I
discovered her vulva. Even before I could enter myself, I felt
something dilate and in moments I was in flood. Tani's clit was a
beautiful instrument to play with; a sleek knot of nerve-endings that
slipped beneath my fingers. Its responses were so acute that in my
nocturnal explorations I had to be careful not to moan as I stroked and
worked it towards a climax. My middle finger sucked and popped as I
thrust it in and out of Tani's, no MY wet vagina. I worked it hard
with rapid little motions, tension brewing until I crested the wave and
came. In Tani's body orgasms were vast and emotional, washing over me
in great beach-breakers, leaving me quietly sobbing, unable to staunch
the tears.
Over the days that followed I kept coming back to Tani's pillowy form.
Her pussy became mine each night and it had me entranced. I began to
use bananas, whisked from the fruit bowl, as improvised dildos,
slipping them between my lips then pushing them gently and deeper
inside until the sensation was so great I could barely breathe. Jerking
the fruit back and forwards in my vagina I seemed to discover new
spots. These broadcast dizzying thrills that made my limbs jerk and my
hips squirm. Here was a luxurious body that screamed for sex. It was a
peak I needed to come down from.
By contrast with Tani, Shelley was a slender, apple-cheeked girl with
the beautiful, elastic body of a ballerina. In class I had fallen for
her smiling eyes and toothsome grin, framed by a bob of dark hair. It
took a momentary touch when handing her a book to steal her imprint.
When I morphed into Shelley's frisky form I discovered she had the most
amazing boobs. They were small, high and barely needed any support.
They came with delightful cherry nipples that, when aroused, broadcast
intense pleasure. Immediately after changing I would rub my body
against my bed so that my tiny teats would begin to buzz.
It was the closest thing I'd yet tried to my male shape: an energetic
body with a boyish figure that was tight, taut and toned. Shelley had
shaved her pussy and it was lovely to slip my finger into her snug,
moist vagina and tenderly quest for pleasure. It was as Shelley that I
discovered how different women's bodies could be from each other. Her
clitoris was a fleshy bean that needed careful caressing. Orgasms were
less overwhelming than in Tani's form. Rather, they were like sharp
peaks of erotic sensation coursing from tip to toe and winding back up
between my legs. But unlike Tani, where each climax would leave me
spent and emotionally wrecked, as Shelley I could rouse myself to
consecutive orgasms, and often did.
I developed a new masturbation technique in Shelley's body. I would
bring myself close to climax and then change back to my boy form.
Suddenly my dick would rear up, aroused and coated in Shelley's girl
juices. With a few slick jerks of my hand I would orgasm, spurting
thick ropes of semen onto my stomach. Immediately I would change back
into a girl and lay there, cum pooling on my baby-soft belly, using my
fingers to rub the sour-smelling semen up onto my tiny, schoolgirl
boobs, where I'd lubricate the tips. I once even tried a taste and
found it wasn't that bad. I briefly fantasized about making Shelley's
body pregnant with my own seed, until cold reality dawned and made me
drop the idea like a lead anvil. I had no idea of what havoc pregnancy
would play with my power and I feared getting stuck in that form.
The last of the trio of imprints was that of Lita, a beautiful Asian
girl with a heart-shaped face and full, kissable lips. It was odd to
look in the mirror and, with a finger, gently trace the sharp
epicanthic fold above my dark brown eyes. Her body was well
proportioned, with elegant lines and shapely legs.
Lita's chest was a modest pair of ice cream scoops, with up-tilted
nipples. But I found her boobs thrilling to fondle and they felt
comfortable in a way that Tani's enormous knockers had not. Again, the
response to sex felt different than in my other shapes. In this lithe
body my orgasms were relaxing releases of nervous energy that made me
want to sink into drowsy torpor.
The best thing about Lita was that she was the same height and slim
shape as my mother. I waited until my folks went away again before I
stole once more into my parents' bedroom to play with Mom's clothes.
Naked, I slipped on a pair of four-inch pumps and discovered that Lita
could wear Mom's shoes. With a little practice I could walk in them
comfortably, my trim fanny figure-eighting as I strolled across the
room. Mom's bras were just the right size to pack my perky bosom into
and I soon found myself encased in an underwired lace brassiere and
matching panties. I felt so hot and sexy it was all I could do to stop
myself dancing.
Dresses, pants and blouses fitted perfectly and I spent an exciting day
dressing up. I learned to walk in a skirt, which felt so strange
compared to pants. I marveled at the sheerness of a peach color silk
teddy sliding against my skin. I admired myself in a side-tie bikini
while still wearing those shiny heels that seemed to elongate my nice
legs even further. I put on a black party frock and paraded up and down
the bedroom, feeling it swish around me. I knew I had here a wardrobe I
could go out in, even if it was for someone a little older.
With three bodies at my command this was the happy time. I was sorta
getting sex, even if it was by masturbating. I would change two or
three times every night to keep the imprint of each girl-shape fresh.
The power did wonders for my self-esteem and I found that even in my
male body I was beginning to act more confident and assertive in
company.
Then one day my wish came true.
"The first time it happened was when I shapechanged into a friend by
accident," I admitted, reluctantly.
"How did that happen?" asked Jo. She was starting to relax a little,
her head canted slightly so that her wavy red hair draped languidly
into her face. She'd taken her goggles off since the fight, revealing
eyes that were large, gray-tinted and beautiful. They were familiar.
I'd once looked through those eyes and I remembered the crystal clarity
of their vision. "Was it some kind of big, colorful manifestation?" she
insisted.
"No, nothing like that." I stopped to clear my throat before going on.
"Only I knew anything had happened. I was hanging with my pal and just
patted them on the shoulder, all friendly. Then there was this 'zap'
feeling as I touched them, like a small electric shock. Suddenly I
could feel their shape in my head. It was like I held the blueprints
for their body in my mind. It made me feel weird. I didn't actually
shapechange properly until later. Not 'til I got home."
There was a lot I'd left out of this description. The friend had been
Bill, my bud at school. He's a smart, funny guy. Good grades. Good
enough at sports and the social round to be at the centre of several
circles. He hung with the nerd crowd and played in our World of
Warcraft clan. He was our natural leader and the organizer of many
online raids and stunts.
That time I'd felt the zap, the experience had left me feeling so
queasy and sick that I crawled home, leaving Bill at the arcade where
we'd been hanging. I stumbled into my bed complaining of a stomachache
and asked Mom to stop fussing and leave me alone. I dozed off and when
I woke up I was in Bill's body--or at least a copy of it--looking
through his eyes and breathing his air.
"Who was this friend of yours?" Jo asked, trying to gently lever her
way past my defenses. I licked my dry lips and tried to fend her off.
"Can we leave my friends out of it, Jo?" I briefly felt assertive and
defensive of my privacy. "They have nothing to do with this. I
discovered I could touch people and get an impression of their form
from the physical contact. Once it was in my head I could change into
that imprinted form and back again."
Jo wisely let it drop. "Did you use the power much once you'd mastered
it?"
"Uh, yeah. I experimented."
Yes, I experimented. A lot.
Of course, there was Bill's body at first. I wasn't really sure how I
had come to change, and after the initial panic it was a while before I
realized that my mind seemed to hold imprints of my old and new bodies.
I could focus on the ghostly shape there and swap between his body and
mine as easy as moving from one train of thought to another. It didn't
take more than five or six seconds to transform and it was painless. My
entire body would bubble with a weird energy, then it would flow and
gel into the new shape and become solid again.
I soon discovered the power's first limitation. It didn't work on
clothes, leaving me wearing whatever I had on before the change. That
would be a source of occasional embarrassment in the times to come.
As Bill it was disconcerting to have his bulk, his muscle, his senses,
and even his man-parts. Yeah, that felt icky at first. But once I felt
comfortable shifting back and forth between forms I test-drove his
body. I was impressed by how different a climax felt; it seemed to go
on longer than in my own physique.
All this, of course, was in secret, in the warm privacy of my bedroom
or the shower; anywhere my parents couldn't see me. There was no way I
was going to tell Mom or Pop about this and I was never going to admit
amything to Bill.
I spent a week trying to figure out the power, trying to master it. I
wondered if it was a one-off so I tried imprinting other friends from
school. All it took was some handshakes and backslaps and I soon also
had the imprints of three other friends. Having four phantom shapes
floating at the back of my consciousness was distracting and made it
hard to concentrate. I was glad when, after a few days, they began to
fade away.
However, while I held their imprints each change catapulted me into an
exhilarating new world of sensation. Each body had its own signature
characteristics, slightly different from my own. John's vision had an
acuity that profoundly changed the way I looked at the universe. The
colors I saw through his eyes seemed so much more vibrant. Tanc was
blessed with sharp hearing and I could make out sounds and voices more
easily from the tumble of background noise, while Raul possessed a
sense of smell so fine that I could make out olfactory notes I never
knew existed.
There were other unexpected differences. Muscles stretched and twanged
in unfamiliar ways. John's body seemed more flexible than the others
while in Raul's form my hands felt pudgy and clumsy. Tanc's legs seemed
so long compared to my own that I kept stumbling as I walked. Shifts in
height or reach could be a minefield, as they changed my perception of
distances and space. Even mundane alterations could be striking. In
each body I had a different heartbeat, an alien breathing rhythm, the
altered tang of saliva in my mouth and the feel of a new set of teeth
against my tongue.
Practicing the changes I found I could control the imprinting so that
it didn't happen on every physical contact. The transformations were
coming easy now and the overwhelming rush of the impressions didn't
make me feel sick like the first time.
I felt I was ready to try the biggest change yet. I wanted to become a
girl.
This was something I didn't want to mention to Jo. This was all about
sex, okay? Pure gratification. I was this lanky geek, a horny teen
who'd never dated yet was forced to swim in the hormone-charged
environment of high school. I felt I was missing what other guys at
school seemed to be getting, and that was pussy.
But now I could change my physical form to whomever I was able to touch
and imprint. Who needed to date a woman if you could become one? This
fever dream began to exterminate all rational thought. I started to
fantasize about transforming into a hot chick and checking myself out.
As soon as the idea of changing into a girl began to careen across my
imagination, I began to form a plan. I wanted to become someone foxy-
looking, of course. By a shaky process of logic I concluded that I
should imprint a person I'd never met and who didn't know me. So I set
my trap at the Mall.
If this sounds like stalkerish behavior, well, I plead that this was a
victimless crime. I wasn't going to attack anyone, just touch them for
a moment, imprint their physical pattern and then I'd be gone. However,
I didn't want any awkward questions, so to disguise myself I changed
into John's tall, rangy body. His was the closest shape to mine, I
wasn't too clumsy in it and I could wear the same clothes in both
forms. I biked down to the Mall and hung about the marble air-
conditioned concourse, watching people walk by and rating the women on
a one to ten scale.
It took a while to find the right subject. Most of the women were too
old or too young, too fat or thin. There were lumpen women, saggy
women, girls with lived-in faces. There were some who looked great at a
distance and as they walked closer did not look so hot. And there were
some who were pretty, but not pretty enough. I had this great power and
arrogantly felt I could afford to pick and choose.
Eventually I saw what I wanted: she was definitely a nine out of ten, a
lovely brunette with lustrous, shoulder-length hair. The woman was a
twenty-something, with an oval face and dazzling eyes that were kissed
with a dash of green. She had a small, straight nose and a generous
mouth with inviting lips. Her figure was slim-waisted and wide-hipped,
with what looked like shapely legs beneath her pants, and she wore a
stretch top that barely contained her generous breasts. I watched them
move as she did, bobbing in sympathy with her walk. The woman's well-
tanned arms were bare, which was ideal for me to make contact, and she
was alone, window shopping outside the chic clothes stores with a bag
swinging from her shoulder. Heart in my mouth I approached her from the
side.
"Hi Julie!" I said to her, all enthusiasm and bonhomie. I had no idea
who Julie was; it was the first name that came to mind. I lightly
touched the woman's arm, just long enough to feel the zap and rush of
the imprint. Startled, her head snapped to look at me, hair whirling
and mouth open. I was momentarily transfixed; she looked really
beautiful. But before she could say anything I immediately launched
into an apology. "Oh, I'm so sorry," I said, backing out of her
personal space. "From a distance I thought you were my friend. My bad,
I'm real sorry."
"No, uh, it's okay," she said and gave an embarrassed laugh. Her voice
was light and friendly. She hadn't felt the imprint process. None of
them ever do, though I saw her hand absently brush the skin where I'd
touched her.
"Look, I'd better go!" I said, thumbing toward the exit. "I gotta find
my friend Julie. Again, I'm sorry about the mistake!" Heart-in-mouth I
dashed outside to the lonely concrete post where I'd shackled my
mountain bike. I took a moment to morph back into my own shape and then
pedaled back home as fast as my legs could take me.
I almost never made it. My limbs were shaking from the adrenalin rush
of what I'd just done. And then there was the imprint of the woman's
body, which was beginning to fill my senses.
It's hard to articulate how an imprint feels. It's like a new sense, a
spectral memory of a body shape on the edge of my consciousness. On
that bike ride I could feel the outline of this woman's physical form
and it was making me horny. My dick was so hard I could barely pedal.
This was different from the guy forms I'd impressed. Almost as if it
could touch them my mind could make out the fleshy physicality of
breasts, the curve of a waist and an unfamiliar space between my
thighs. It's a wonder I didn't orgasm in my shorts.
Back in the house, I ran thumpety-thump upstairs and locked myself in
the antiseptic privacy of the bathroom. I stripped in a hurry, clumsily
hurling off shoes, shirt and pants until they were strewn across the
floor. Then my hands, on autopilot, pushed down my shorts and began to
stroke and jerk my dick, which was hard, hot and sleek. I felt an urge
to ejaculate before I transformed. But the weight of the strange,
feminine imprint on my psyche was too great. My mind kept flicking to
the ghostly sensations of tits, ass and clit. The feeling of male
orgasm began to build, but I couldn't stop the deep desire to change
from overwhelming me. Just as I was about to come I began to morph and
my penis shrunk back out of my hands. I was suddenly robbed of my
ability to orgasm, leaving a momentary ache where my balls had been. In
seconds, I was all woman, standing naked save for the shorts pooling
around my ankles. In the bathroom mirror I could see a bloom of sweat
across my heaving chest while the hand that had held my dick now
grasped at empty air in front of my pussy.
Not for the first time I was to discover that there's a disjoint
between looking at a pretty girl and actually occupying her body. This
is especially true when your only experience of hot women comes from
airbrushed photos on the internet. There's a rude reality you have to
face up to. This close I could see the myriad tiny flaws of a real
woman's form. I had fine hairs on my arms, enlarged pores on my skin,
tiny wrinkles near my eyes and a barely perceptible bend in my nose,
along with a dozen other irritating defects. Already my long, dark hair
was wandering into my face to itch and scratch at my nose and my hands
rose up to flick it away with long-nailed fingers.
Suddenly I was aware of padding in places that were unfamiliar. My ass
and thighs felt unusually plump, as if the world around my tuchas began
a long way away. Then there was the mass of flesh tugging at my chest
muscles. I had breasts that were big, but without a bra to hold them
they just sagged back against my body and looked uneven, one larger
than the other.
My cans were nothing like the firm mountains I'd imagined they'd be.
They shivered like jello and yielded to the slightest touch. A tracery
of veins tracked across a skin that blazed with pale bikini triangles.
My hands mashed my boobs then lifted them, feeling their heft and
fleshy weight. Something carnal stirred in my chest and crotch as
fingernails brushed the hardening blobs of my redcurrant nipples and
their large surrounds. It was different from a hard-on. This arousal
was more like a heavy heat that made my skin more sensitive, that made
me conscious of the secret new spaces inside of me.
Suddenly the flaws didn't matter any more and my hands were all over my
body. It was almost like I didn't have enough fingers to stroke, touch
and pinch at all the parts of my new physique. Playing with my breasts
was sensational, feeling a horny thrill prickle back from behind the
teats and make its way to my cootchie, which became tremendously wet. I
hadn't anticipated how rapidly this warmth and moistness in my loins
would build. My face flushed and I felt as if I was starting to glow.
As the excitement increased I caressed my flat belly, with its firm
abs, and cupped the swell of my ass. It was a lovely peach-skinned
behind, soft and satisfyingly round.
And then, after exploring the slick sensitivity of my inner thighs,
which staggered me and almost made me fall on the floor, I began to
quest at the soft folds of skin around my vagina. I was about to slip
one nailed finger gingerly in to the hot wetness when a voice from
downstairs rose up and drenched me like a cold shower. It was Mom
calling me down for lunch. I cursed a streak in a soft soprano and then
stood there, staring angrily around the spotless expanse of the
bathroom. The spell was broken and the exquisite sexual heat of my
girl-body was cooling. Reluctantly, I focused for long enough to shift
back to my own shape, feeling its bony angles develop and my balls
drop. I felt a deep resentment at having to give up the exotic
experience of being a woman and return to my original form. I wiped
myself where girl-juices had dripped a slick, solitary trail down the
inside of one thigh, then got dressed and went downstairs to a
miserable meal.
From that day on I would have to hunt for private moments to explore my
feminine form. Often this was at night when I was safe in bed and the
house was suspended in sleep. In the stillness, with the warm urban
nightlight filtering through the blinds, I'd transform beneath the
sheets. My skinny awkwardness would subside and swell into supple
curves, reshaping the bedclothes. My head would suddenly be pillowed by
a mass of soft hair.
I'd lay there for a while, absorbing the new rhythms, the breathing and
heartbeat, of this limber body. I'd taste my sweet saliva and explore
my perfect, regular teeth with my tongue. Then slowly, in an act of
seduction, I'd start to play with myself in the dark. Slim hands would
flutter across my breasts as they puddled on my chest. Fingers would
delicately pluck at my sweet teats, teasing them rigid and making my
body writhe in response before my hand slid down across my belly and a
ragged thatch of pubic hair to reach the entrance to my vulva. There,
sliding into the folds of flesh, I was able to explore the hot
moistness, hunt out my clitoris and press it to make my back arch. Then
I'd enjoy the sensation of my fingers inside of me. I liked to withdraw
a wet digit and taste myself; lapping with my tongue at the hot musk of
my sex.
The first time I climaxed it was difficult to keep the noise down and I
lay in bed, gasping, feeling buzzy and blissed out. It was nothing like
the urgent surge of my male orgasms. This was more like a tide, a rise
and fall of sensation and emotion. Exhausted, I dozed off, still
encased in a female body. I was fortunate not to be discovered before I
woke and could change back.
I kept this pattern of exploration up for almost two weeks, excited by
my female shape and entranced by its otherness. I'd lock myself in my
room all evening, enjoying the experience of being a woman. I felt more
relaxed in this form, and was becoming increasingly comfortable with
it. As the sensation of breasts and vagina became familiar, I started
to appreciate the rest of what I thought of as my 'Julie body'. I loved
the line formed by my slim waist and broad hips, and the way my center
of gravity seemed to shift downwards. I admired the shapliness of my
legs and how even the back of my knees seemed to be an erogenous zone.
I would spend some evenings playing World of Warcraft in my Julie
shape, typing chat messages to friends. They couldn't see me, of
course. They didn't realize that I was now a hottie, sitting at a
screen clad only in a bathrobe, a stray boob just poking out from
behind the towelling. That gave me a secret thrill for as long as it
lasted, but I'd always have to change back whenever we raided, as our
guild used voice chat to communicate. I contemplated creating a new
game account, a new identity in which I could be a woman all the time,
and I wondered how differently my friends would respond to a girl's
voice.
Now I could turn into a sexy girl at will, I became obsessed with
clothing and tried to see how much of my wardrobe would fit a figure
that was shorter, but curved in new places. I pulled on a T-shirt that
squashed my chest flat, then fondled my boobs through the taut fabric.
That was so arousing that I tried my swimming briefs on. They stretched
pleasingly over the plumpness of my ass but bunched into unsightly
folds at the crotch. At least there was plenty of space there to reach
a hand inside and rub my vajayjay.
My boy clothes were all the wrong cut and didn't feel comfortable or
sexy enough. I wondered what it felt like to try on some women's
clothing. One Saturday afternoon, while my parents were visiting a
distant uncle, I stayed home and nervously snuck into the sacred space
of my mother's wardrobe. Mom was in her late thirties and, my friends
reckoned, had kept her looks. Amongst the racks of clothes I found
something that I thought I could squeeze my girl form into.
I took it down from its hanger, a simple knee-length dress with a
conservative floral pattern. I stripped nude, unzipped the back and
stepped into it, feeling a thrill as I pulled it up. The dress slid up
my legs, but then got stuck at my ass. I had to spend a few minutes
working my curves into it, inch by inch. By the time I'd managed, with
some effort, to zip it (mostly) up the back, everything felt
constricted and fit to burst. I could barely move for fear of something
ripping.
I found Mom's shoes in the wardrobe and was disappointed to find, after
forcing my feet into a pair of pumps, that they pinched badly. I stood
in front of the mirror, wrapped too tight to move, my bust squashed to
overflowing while wobbling precariously on Mom's heels. I was not
comfortable, and yet the whole experience of dressing as a woman made
the experience more thrilling, more sexy. I was turned on by the sight
of myself in a dress. When I clutched my breasts through the fabric my
body responded with strong arousal, straining at the confining apparel.
There was no way I could diddle myself like this, so I levered off the
dressâ€"an operation as difficult as getting it onâ€"and looked for what
else I could try. Mom's underwear drawer netted a pair of silky panties
that stretched satisfyingly over my smooth behind. I was disappointed
to find that her bras were far too small for my capacious chest, but in
another drawer I found a striped bikini top that could just about be
made to fit, though it barely cupped my boobs
So in this mismatched outfit of bikini bra, panties and two-inch pumps,
I flopped onto my parents' bed and began to touch myself. I was now
expert in arousing my girl-body. I swiftly felt the wetness come and
then rammed my hand down the sheer front of Mom's underwear to start
the gentle stirring and flicking that would bring me to climax.
This shape was addictive. But there was something else, besides the
erotic sensation of girl flesh, that brought me back to this body. I
was now an attractive woman. I felt desirable. Who would reject someone
who looked at hot as me? People would at last pay me the attention I
never received as a guy.
I climaxed and lay panting, legs akimbo on the bed. The bikini bra was
askew on my chest, the panties were pushed down across my thighs and
those too-tight high heels dug into the bedcover. I must have looked a
mess. As I lay in the afterglow I contemplated going out dressed as a
woman, but I hadn't the guts and I had nothing that fitted.
Days passed and I soon discovered a new limitation of my powers. So
long as the imprint remained fresh, the change was easy. When I
transformed each night I retained a pristine memory of the body shape.
It would even retain changes from the night before, such as the time I
tried shaving my pubic hair, creating a stubbly patch and a couple of
small razor nicks that reappeared each time I changed.
However, if I didn't change into a form regularly, its imprint would
degrade. School and chores and late nights hanging with my friends
online in World of Warcraft finally got the better of me. Exhausted, I
began to go straight to sleep without changing as soon as I hit the
hay. So when, after skipping a couple of nights, I tried to shapeshift
again I realized that my memory of 'Julie' had partially faded.
I focussed on the imprint and felt the usual tingle of morphing, but
the result petered out into an incomplete change. It felt all wrong.
When I stripped and looked in the mirror I appeared to be half man and
half woman. I checked my face and it was partly feminized with Julie's
and nose and the mass of her soft hair framing my features. Though my
hips had widened and my ass had swelled into its familiar proportions,
my waist was still thick and below the abdomen my genitals remained
male, though shriveled and weeny. My narrow chest sported a pair of
tiny, pointed mounds like those of a pubescent girl.
I tried to play with this androgynous physique, but it didn't function
properly. My unfilled breasts ached slightly, as if in
growing pains, and rubbing them only made them sore. It took an age to
bring my tiny dick and balls to climax. It was really difficult to jerk
myself when my penis was so small. At the moment I came barely anything
came out and the pleasure it gave was miniscule and unsatisfying.
The realization that I'd lost the woman's imprint was like a
bereavement. I had become accustomed to that body's comfort and poise
and cursed myself for letting it disappear. I'd never find that woman
again and so I sulked for a day, wondering what to do. Then I resolved
to search for some new bodies to replace hers. I picked out the most
attractive girls in my classes and found ways to imprint them without
getting too touchy-feely. I could now handle three imprints without
much distraction. It wasn't long before I had a new parade of imprinted
shapes. I could feel their exotic forms at the edges of my
consciousness.
With three girl bodies stored safely away my nights became a carnival
of solo sex, enjoyed between the sheets of my bed. The experience of
wearing the new bodies was mind-blowing.
The first shape I tried on was that of a girl named Tani. She was an
ash blonde with a nondescript, almost homely face, but her incredible
curves meant she was much in demand with the boys. It took a gentle
touch of her hand in class to capture her form. Back at home when I
changed bodies that first time I had the brief sensation of feeling
inflated, like a Michelin man. As I adjusted to the shift of fleshy
ballast my sense of balance was thrown. Then I looked in the mirror to
check myself out. Tani possessed a fabulous hourglass with a broad
carriage and heavy breasts sagging down her ribcage, aureoles like
bruised circles.
It didn't take long to put Tani's nimble fingers to work, exploring and
circumnavigating my new frame. Tani was not fat, but her voluptuousness
was such that transitioning from my lean male body to hers was like
being zippered into a padded suit. I began to play with my tits, which
hung like ripe eggplants from my chest, but found they were less
sensitive than in my last girl body. The doughy masses seemed to get in
the way when I moved and were hot and a little uncomfortable. However,
as my hands slid down below the slight swell of my/Tani's belly, I
discovered her vulva. Even before I could enter myself, I felt
something dilate and in moments I was in flood. Tani's clit was a
beautiful instrument to play with; a sleek knot of nerve-endings that
slipped beneath my fingers. Its responses were so acute that in my
nocturnal explorations I had to be careful not to moan as I stroked and
worked it towards a climax. My middle finger sucked and popped as I
thrust it in and out of Tani's, no MY wet vagina. I worked it hard
with rapid little motions, tension brewing until I crested the wave and
came. In Tani's body orgasms were vast and emotional, washing over me
in great beach-breakers, leaving me quietly sobbing, unable to staunch
the tears.
Over the days that followed I kept coming back to Tani's pillowy form.
Her pussy became mine each night and it had me entranced. I began to
use bananas, whisked from the fruit bowl, as improvised dildos,
slipping them between my lips then pushing them gently and deeper
inside until the sensation was so great I could barely breathe. Jerking
the fruit back and forwards in my vagina I seemed to discover new
spots. These broadcast dizzying thrills that made my limbs jerk and my
hips squirm. Here was a luxurious body that screamed for sex. It was a
peak I needed to come down from.
By contrast with Tani, Shelley was a slender, apple-cheeked girl with
the beautiful, elastic body of a ballerina. In class I had fallen for
her smiling eyes and toothsome grin, framed by a bob of dark hair. It
took a momentary touch when handing her a book to steal her imprint.
When I morphed into Shelley's frisky form I discovered she had the most
amazing boobs. They were small, high and barely needed any support.
They came with delightful cherry nipples that, when aroused, broadcast
intense pleasure. Immediately after changing I would rub my body
against my bed so that my tiny teats would begin to buzz.
It was the closest thing I'd yet tried to my male shape: an energetic
body with a boyish figure that was tight, taut and toned. Shelley had
shaved her pussy and it was lovely to slip my finger into her snug,
moist vagina and tenderly quest for pleasure. It was as Shelley that I
discovered how different women's bodies could be from each other. Her
clitoris was a fleshy bean that needed careful caressing. Orgasms were
less overwhelming than in Tani's form. Rather, they were like sharp
peaks of erotic sensation coursing from tip to toe and winding back up
between my legs. But unlike Tani, where each climax would leave me
spent and emotionally wrecked, as Shelley I could rouse myself to
consecutive orgasms, and often did.
I developed a new masturbation technique in Shelley's body. I would
bring myself close to climax and then change back to my boy form.
Suddenly my dick would rear up, aroused and coated in Shelley's girl
juices. With a few slick jerks of my hand I would orgasm, spurting
thick ropes of semen onto my stomach. Immediately I would change back
into a girl and lay there, cum pooling on my baby-soft belly, using my
fingers to rub the sour-smelling semen up onto my tiny
boobs, where I'd lubricate the tips. I once even tried a taste and
found it wasn't that bad. I briefly fantasized about making Shelley's
body pregnant with my own seed, until cold reality dawned and made me
drop the idea like a lead anvil. I had no idea of what havoc pregnancy
would play with my power and I feared getting stuck in that form.
The last of the trio of imprints was that of Lita, a beautiful Asian
girl with a heart-shaped face and full, kissable lips. It was odd to
look in the mirror and, with a finger, gently trace the sharp
epicanthic fold above my dark brown eyes. Her body was well
proportioned, with elegant lines and shapely legs.
Lita's chest was a modest pair of ice cream scoops, with up-tilted
nipples. But I found her boobs thrilling to fondle and they felt
comfortable in a way that Tani's enormous knockers had not. Again, the
response to sex felt different than in my other shapes. In this lithe
body my orgasms were relaxing releases of nervous energy that made me
want to sink into drowsy torpor.
The best thing about Lita was that she was the same height and slim
shape as my mother. I waited until my folks went away again before I
stole once more into my parents' bedroom to play with Mom's clothes.
Naked, I slipped on a pair of four-inch pumps and discovered that Lita
could wear Mom's shoes. With a little practice I could walk in them
comfortably, my trim fanny figure-eighting as I strolled across the
room. Mom's bras were just the right size to pack my perky bosom into
and I soon found myself encased in an underwired lace brassiere and
matching panties. I felt so hot and sexy it was all I could do to stop
myself dancing.
Dresses, pants and blouses fitted perfectly and I spent an exciting day
dressing up. I learned to walk in a skirt, which felt so strange
compared to pants. I marveled at the sheerness of a peach color silk
teddy sliding against my skin. I admired myself in a side-tie bikini
while still wearing those shiny heels that seemed to elongate my nice
legs even further. I put on a black party frock and paraded up and down
the bedroom, feeling it swish around me. I knew I had here a wardrobe I
could go out in, even if it was for someone a little older.
With three bodies at my command this was the happy time. I was sorta
getting sex, even if it was by masturbating. I would change two or
three times every night to keep the imprint of each girl-shape fresh.
The power did wonders for my self-esteem and I found that even in my
male body I was beginning to act more confident and assertive in
company.
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Peter and his family were having the ideal vacation, away from the hustle and bustle. However, that wouldn't last long as an alien interrupts their time and takes over his father and his sister! Now, with his mother, the two of them have to manage having an alien taking over half of their family as they try to figure out a solution while hiding the truth from any nosy neighbors.
Peter Shale woke up, thinking nothing of the strange feeling that was lingering in the air. He stretched as he shook off the remnants of last night’s wet dream.
“Damn, that was a good one,” he said to himself as he stripped off his boxers and slipped into a fresh pair. “Getting to double team Stacy and Isabelle in a hot tub. Gonna definitely save that for the future spank bank.”
Peter grabbed his phone, checking out all the notifications from last night. Most of which were snapchats from his friends hanging out at different parties, banging different chicks. He responded to a few of them, wishing that he could have been there with them. But, sadly, he had to be here at home as his family was preparing for their annual excursion.
Though, he couldn’t really complain. After all, he was getting to visit the beaches of Catalahara for free. A weekend of bright sun, warm weather, and all the hotties in bikinis. Now it would be his friends who would be jealous of him. A few of them had sent him messages wishing him good luck and to have fun on his vacation.
“Peter! Are you awake yet?”
“Yeah! I’m coming down soon!” Peter shouted down, responding to his mother that had called out to him. He hopped out of bed and threw on the clothes that he had set aside for today. Just a simple blue T-shirt and jeans, totally fine for the trip to the beach. He combed his hair up, admiring himself in the mirror. “This year, you’re gonna break your record of 4.” He clicked his tongue at himself and applied some cologne.
Standing at a solid 6’ 2”, he was certainly glad that he was out of his awkward short phase from middle school. Now a 19 year old strapping sophomore in college, he was definitely one to catch the wandering eyes of the ladies. Not that he could blame them; with his toned natural physique, chiseled chin, and deep brown eyes, all it would take was the right look and suave lines to make a lady swoon. And then, once they saw what he was packing at 6 inches, well, it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out what happened later that night.
Yeah, Peter didn’t really have much to complain about with his life. His parents were very well off, with his mother working as a teacher for the local community college and his father working an office job, so money wasn’t ever really an issue for them. His grades weren’t the best, but they were decent enough to keep getting by. And of course, he had game, living the full college experience with parties, ladies, and fun.
Having finished admiring himself in the mirror, he left his room and headed quickly to the bathroom. He opened up the door and was about to take a whizz when something, or rather someone, stopped him.
“Peter! What the fuck!? Knock jackass!”
Standing there in just a bathrobe was none other than his older sister, Brooke.
Now if Peter was, as he liked to compare himself to, a blue ribbon at the state fair, then Brooke was the winning dish from nationals. Standing at a modest 5’ 6”, she blew Peter’s toned body out of the water with her athletic build. Long blonde hair with pink highlights that she would often dye, gorgeous green eyes, and a killer rack of abs, with most of her body fat going to her D cups, most women would kill for a body like hers. A natural born track star from birth, she held practically every track and field record at their old high school and had the physique to back it up and then some. Not only was she more toned than Peter, but her grades were practically perfect, which she owed to her method of studying while exercising. However, she wasn’t the greatest at being social, preferring to focus more on her studies and exercise, though she did have a few close friends.
Truth be told, if she wasn’t her sister, Peter would be all over a girl like that. She had the body and the brains. However, Brooke had a tendency to remind Peter that not all that glittered was golden.
“Get the fuck out!” Brooke shouted as she pushed Peter out of the bathroom.
“Hey, I need to use the bathroom!” Peter complained as Brooke shoved him.
“Go use the other one. I was here first!” With that, Brooke locked the door.
Peter grumbled, but reluctantly made his way downstairs. Before he could make it to the bathroom, another voice stopped him.
“Come on. It’s vacation time. Can’t you two get along for just a few days?”
This time, it was his father, Hector, stepping out of the master bedroom. Peter was practically a spitting image of his father when he was younger. Hector stood at a respectable 6’ 4”, just a couple inches over Peter. His wavy brown hair fell down along the sides of his head, accenting his beard that was neatly trimmed as always, accented by his brown eyes. Hector was more muscular than Peter, which he owed to the days of being a surfer before he settled down. His physique always made it a little hilarious when the man who looked like the pinnacle of a surfer dude went to work wearing a suit and tie. But, today wasn’t a suit day; today was a day for a black T-shirt and brown shorts.
“Sorry Dad,” Peter said, not wanting to get an earful. “We’ll get alone. I promise.”
“You two better,” Hector said as he patted Peter on the shoulder. “Remember, we’re leaving soon, so don’t take too long.” With that, he made his way to the kitchen.
Peter quickly headed to the bathroom, relieving himself. Finished, he headed to the kitchen at the same time that Brooke made her way downstairs, dressed in a purple tank top and white booty shorts. The two of them headed into the kitchen, and were immediately assaulted by the smells of freshly cooked bacon and flapjacks.
“Now, be sure to eat well. The less stops we have to make for food, the sooner we reach the beaches.”
Handing out the plates of breakfast was Peter’s mother, Veronica. If Peter was the younger version of Hector, then Brooke was the younger version of Veronica. Standing at a surprising 5’ 10”, she had quite the height difference between herself and Brooke than Hector and Peter. She often wore her light blonde hair up in a ponytail to help keep it out of her face. Today, she was wearing a brown top with a bit of a deep U cut to it to accent her E cups and a long green skirt, which fit snugly against her body to show off her hips.
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Hector said with a hearty laugh as Peter and Brooke took their seats at the table. “Nice perfume, dear.” Hector said as Veronica handed him a plate.
“Oh, thanks. Thought I’d try something new today,” Veronica said as she handed out plates to Peter and Brooke.
The four of them ate until they were stuffed, cleaned up, and then piled into the car. Hector took up the driver seat, with Veronica in the passenger seat. Peter sat behind Veronica while Brooke was behind Hector. The drive wasn’t too boring, as Peter mostly passed the time by watching videos on his phone. Occasionally, he would hear Brooke adjust herself in her seat as she read her books or hearing his parents flirt back and forth, but he kept focus on his phone. Before long, the view of the beach house appeared on the horizon. Within minutes, they were unpacked and settled in as the sun shone high in the sky.
“Ah, hello Catalahara Beach!” Peter said as he stepped out onto the back porch, basking in the warm sun and the breeze. “How I have missed you.”
“You know, it’s better to get out there than just to stare at it, right?” Brooke said as she came up next to him, wearing a blue bikini that left little to the imagination. She adjusted her sunglasses and headed out through the backyard towards the path that led to the beach. Shortly following behind Brooke was Veronica and Hector, both of whom were wearing their swimsuits and carrying beach towels.
“You gonna get dressed and come along?” Hector asked, his arm around Veronica’s waist.
“Since you’re the last one to leave, be sure to bring along the cooler and the beach bag that’s on the table,” Veronica said as she and Hector headed to the beach.
“Alright, I will,” Peter grumbled as he headed back inside the house. “Not sure why they couldn’t have gotten it,” he muttered to himself. Peter headed to his room and quickly got undressed. He went into his suitcase and slipped on a pair of swimming trunks. Then, he walked around the house, finding the cooler and the beach bag in the kitchen. He slung the bag over his shoulder and dragged the cooler down the path to the beach.
What greeted him was the gorgeous sight of Catalahara Beach and all the beachgoers, enjoying the warm weather and splayed out on display, soaking up the sunlight. Peter could see his family down by the water; Hector already had some chairs set up with Brooke sitting in one of them while Veronica had her feet in the water. Peter wheeled the cooler down and sat it next to the chairs and plopped the bag down onto the sand.
“Time to enjoy this vacation!” Peter said loudly. He was about to head into the water when he felt his father’s hand on his shoulder.
“Not so fast,” Hector said as he picked up the bottle of sunscreen and tossed it to Peter. “Be sure to cover up. We don’t need some sunburn to ruin our vacation and you burn faster than a paper bag..”
“Yeah yeah, I know,” Peter said as he squirted out some into his hand. Of course he couldn’t get the genes from his father that made him resistant to sunburns. But, no, only Brooke got those, leaving Peter with his mother’s genes that made them need to use sunscreen far more. He applied it to his face and chest, rubbing it on his arms and legs. But, when it came to reaching his back, his arms weren’t flexible enough to reach everywhere to cover it. Try as he might, there were definitely spots that his hands couldn’t get to.
“Do you need some help?” Veronica asked as she walked up to Peter. “I forgot to apply some sunscreen myself.” Without waiting for a response, Veronica squeezed some sunscreen onto her palms. She moved behind Peter and started to press her hands along his back.
Peter shuddered at the coldness of the sunscreen, juxtaposed to the awkward warmth that his face was feeling and it wasn’t from the sun.
“No! Not again!” Peter thought to himself as he tried to stay still. “Think of anything else!”
Sure, he had taken a few glances here and there, but with how Veronica enjoyed showing off her body, it wasn’t unusual. But, she was his own mother! He had to push the thoughts out of his mind. Unfortunately, it only got filled with memories of his friends commenting about how sexy Veronica was. There were countless beach babes available for him to charm and here he was stuck with these thoughts.
“And done,” Veronica said.
“Great thanks!” Peter shouted as he bolted from where he was to the water’s edge.
“Oh, have fun!” Veronica said. She turned over to Hector, who gave her a wink as he squeezed sunscreen onto his hands.
The moment Peter’s feet hit the water, all the worries and stresses he had built up in his body instantly faded away. He sighed in relief as he waded into the blue waters, slowly heading in deeper and deeper until he was chest deep in and just floated in the water. The sky above had a few clouds, which provided passing shade now and then.
“Yeah, this is the life,” Peter said as he closed his eyes and began to unwind.
The day slipped past as the Shale family enjoyed the first day on the beach. Occasionally, Peter’s efforts of relaxing were drawn away by a bikini-clad lady, or his family calling him in for something. Sometimes it was food, but most of the time, it was so he and Veronica could reapply their sunscreen.
Before long, the sun had long set and most of the other beachgoers had headed back to their homes, but not the Shale family. Instead, against the backdrop of the moonlit night, there was a lone campfire that they were all gathered around.
“So, is there anything exciting that either of you are hoping to do this vacation?” Veronica asked as she looked over to Peter and Brooke.
“I’m content to just enjoy the nice time that we have here,” Brooke said as she flipped to the next page of her book.
“Are you just gonna read the whole time?” Peter sneered at Brooke, to which she just rolled her eyes.
“Well, I know that I heard that Demitri can get us a good price on a set of jetski rides,” Hector said as he leaned forward, tossing another log onto the fire. “How does that sound to you kids?”
“I think that sounds totally awesome!” Peter said, pumping his fists into the air.
“That’s my boy!” Hector said, high fiving him.
“I can’t say that I ever had the chance. I’d love the opportunity, Dad,” Brooke said as she smiled, thinking about getting to ride the waves.
“Well, I’ll be happy to watch from the docks,” Veronica said, leaning up against Hector’s arm.
“Oh, nonsense. You can join me and sit on the back, holding on tight,” Hector said, a bit of a purr in his voice as he pulled Veronica in tighter.
“Well if you insist, my dear,” Veronica said with a light chuckle. She looked up to the sky, admiring the twinkling lights above. “Are they all so beautiful? The stars?”
“Yeah, they sure are pretty. Can’t get views like this back home,” Hector said as he gestured out to the ocean and the moon above.
“Hey,” Peter said as he pointed up to the sky. “Is that a shooting star?”
The four of them all looked to where Peter was pointing, observing a glowing light burning up in the atmosphere.
“Oh, I wish that times like these could last forever,” Veronica said as she looked at the star.
“I wish the same thing,” Hector said as he looked up.
“I wish to get that award that I’ve been trying for,” Brooke said, closing her eyes.
“Well I wish that-” Peter tilted his head as he looked up at the burning light. “Wait, is it getting larger?”
The Shale family looked closely at the light. “Wait,” Brooke said as she squinted. “It’s not getting larger. It’s just getting closer! And it’s coming towards us!”
The four of them scrambled to move out of the way of the incoming light, but the sand proved to be a slippery surface compared to solid ground. Veronica fell almost immediately as she twisted around to run back towards the house. Hector was able to dig his heels in, but turned back to go protect Veronica. Brooke started to run to the side to get out of the way while Peter could only try to duck out of the way, leaping from his seat. But, despite their best efforts, it was too late.
The burning light crashed down into the sand with a mighty force, whipping the sand up in a furious frenzy as the light caved in the ground and creating a crater. The light exploded around in a brilliant light, then fizzled out into small glowing orange embers that gently dissipated into the air.
“Hector! Peter! Brooke!”
Peter could vaguely hear his mother calling out to him. He struggled to open up his eyes, everything swirling around in a daze. His head was ringing from the impact as he tried to focus on what just happened. He forced himself up and off the sand, staggering towards where he heard his mother’s voice.
“I’m over here!” Peter shouted. He walked forward a little more, confused about where exactly he was going. With fire having been taken out by the impact, he had lost all landmarks he could easily focus on. “Whoa!” Peter fell face forward as he tripped over Brooke, who was laying on the sand, so he must have stumbled somehow in her direction. “Brooke, are you alright?” She groaned in response, but didn’t open her eyes. Mustering up his strength, Peter lifted Brooke up and slung her arm over his shoulder.
“Peter! Where are you?” Veronica called out.
“I’m over here!” Peter said as his eyes started to refocus. He dragged Brooke over to Veronica, who was struggling to lift up Hector.
“Here, help me with your father,” Veronica said as Peter set Brooke down. With the two of them, they were able to lift up Hector. Peter held Hector as Veronica went and picked up Brooke. “Come on, back to the house!” Veronica went ahead, bringing Brooke, with Peter following shortly behind.
The two of them brought Brooke and Hector to the house, locking the door behind them. Peter set Hector on the chair in the living room while Veronica laid Brooke onto the couch.
“What the hell was that?” Peter exclaimed as he looked out the backdoor towards the beach. “Was that an asteroid strike? Or a satellite crash?”
“I don’t know,” Veronica said as she rapidly looked over Hector and Brooke. “Peter, are you hurt at all?”
“Just a little shaken up,” Peter said as he checked himself for anything. Thankfully, nothing felt painful and he couldn’t see any scratches or marks. “How are you, Mom?”
“Physically, I’m fine,” Veronica said. “I’m just worried about Hector and Brooke.”
As if on cue, Hector and Brooke stirred awake, causing Veronica to yelp back in surprise. Hector and Brooke looked around, trying to get their bearings. They turned and looked over at Peter and Veronica. Peter and Veronica, meanwhile, stared at them, wide-eyed in fear.
Hector and Brooke both stared with glowing orange eyes, as brilliant as a flame. They looked down at themselves, giving confusing looks. They turned to each other and said something in a language that wasn’t human, conversing back and forth. They closed their eyes and massaged their temples simultaneously. Then, Brooke opened her eyes and turned to Peter, speaking in a strange tone.
“You, where am I?” Brooke asked.
“Brooke?” Peter asked cautiously as he looked at his sister. “It’s okay. Uh, you’re at home. Well, not home, but the beach house.”
“Beach house?” Hector asked as he looked around. “Is this Ixa 15?”
“Is this what?” Veronica asked, very confused. “Uh, dear, we’re at Catalahara Beach.” She turned to Peter. “I think they may have hit their head.”
“No, this body shows no signs of having been injured in the process,” Brooke said as she looked over herself.
“This body?” Peter squinted his eyes. “What the hell is going on?”
Hector stroked his chin as he rubbed his temple. “Ah, more lexicon comes in.” He opened his eyes and frowned. “Ugh, the coordinates were off. I thought I had seen the signal.”
“Signal?” Peter asked.
“Yes. The rapid flickering of lights to signify that this was Ixa 15. But, based on these memories, it would seem that this is not the right planet,” Brooke said.
“Rapid flickering? Planet?” Peter asked, though he started to piece together everything. “Wait, are you…”
“This should have been far easier.” Brooke walked over, getting up near Peter’s face. “I am recalling that you were near the impact site.” She ran her finger along Peter’s body and rubbed it between her fingers. “The particles spread to you, but you were unaffected. Curious.”
“You’re an alien!” Peter shouted, causing Veronica to hug tightly to Peter’s arm.
“Aliens! But, those aren’t real!” Veronica shivered as she looked at Brooke and Hector.
“Ugh, don’t shout,” Brooke and Hector said as they held their heads. “I am still adjusting to how these bodies process sound.”
“Who… What are you?” Peter asked, staring at what used to be his sister and his father.
Hector and Brooke both stood side by side and bowed in perfect synchronous action. They both spoke at the same in perfect unison. “I am Krasid, a traveler from Zorben 18, on my way to Ixa 15. But, it would seem that I mistook a signal from here as the sign for Ixa 15.”
“Wait, which of you is Kas, uh, Kar, uh, Krasid?” Peter stammered.
“Both of us,” Hector and Brooke said. “Well, technically, we are one, shared now across two. Still, you both were at the impact site. How were you unaffected?” Brooke leaned in close to Peter, sniffing him, and then sniffing Veronica. “Ugh, what is that foul stench upon you both? It permeates you strongly. It has a metallic scent to it.” Brooke sniffed her arms and scowled. “It’s on these bodies as well, but not nearly as potent.”
“What?” Peter asked, confused. He racked his brain, trying to figure out what it could possibly be. “Metallic and only strongly on us? Wait, could it be sunscreen?”
“Based on the knowledge from this one,” Brooke said, “I believe that is the case.” She closed her eyes. “Ugh, yes. This one had memorized that the main ingredient is titanium dioxide. Ugh, horrible tasting stuff.”
“So, our sunscreen protected us from you?” Peter asked, looking around frantically for any possible remaining bottles around.
“Yes, that’s correct,” Hector said with a frown. “Ugh, figures that this planet would have such an awful substance.” Hector sighed and looked at the two of them. “I can tell that you two are very shaken up by this. So, allow me to give you some reassurance.” Brooke joined in, her and Hector matching in perfect unison. “I mean you all no harm. I simply wish to make my way to my destination. If you can help me, then I’ll be on my way, no problem.”
“Give us back my husband and daughter!” Veronica shouted from behind the two of them, having slipped away while Krasid was focused on Peter. She sprayed Hector and Brooke with spray-on sunscreen, but the two of them just coughed and wiped it away.
“That stuff only stops the bonding attempt,” Hector said as he flicked off the lotion. “Once we’re already in a host, it won’t do anything.”
“Are… you going to take over Peter and I now?” Veronica said as she stepped back in fear.
“No,” Brooke said with a sigh. “Once a bonding attempt has failed, it won’t work again with that host.” She crossed her arms. “Meaning, no, I won’t be able to bond you two.”
“Well, unbond with them!” Peter shouted. “Give them back!”
Hector sighed and Brooke turned to Peter, speaking to him. “I can’t do that. Once the bonding process has taken effect, separating without the proper materials would cause irreparable damage to the host.” Peter and Veronica both gulped. “And, no idea if your planet has such materials.” Brooke and Hector huffed, emitting a soft cloud of orange lights towards Peter and Veronica. “Now, let’s just calm down.”
Peter and Veronica both felt themselves starting to calm down a little bit. While this was a terrifying situation for them, it would seem that Krasid didn’t want to hurt anyone.
“What will happen to them when you are unbonded if we did it properly?” Peter asked.
“They’ll be unharmed,” Brooke said. “They are still in here, but, more like they are sleeping.” She bowed to Peter as Hector bowed to Veronica. “I swear, that if you help me unbond and get on my way, then I shall return them completely unharmed to you. I will also make sure no harm comes to either of you two.” Brooke and Hector extended their hands. “The memories say that you humans do this gesture to symbolize an agreement. Do we have an agreement?”
Peter looked over at Veronica, unsure of what to do. Krasid seemed genuine in what they were saying, and as of right now, it didn’t seem like they had a choice. Veronica looked back to Peter and nodded, coming to the same conclusion he did.
“Okay, we have an agreement,” Peter said as he shook Brooke’s hand.
Peter Shale woke up, thinking nothing of the strange feeling that was lingering in the air. He stretched as he shook off the remnants of last night’s wet dream.
“Damn, that was a good one,” he said to himself as he stripped off his boxers and slipped into a fresh pair. “Getting to double team Stacy and Isabelle in a hot tub. Gonna definitely save that for the future spank bank.”
Peter grabbed his phone, checking out all the notifications from last night. Most of which were snapchats from his friends hanging out at different parties, banging different chicks. He responded to a few of them, wishing that he could have been there with them. But, sadly, he had to be here at home as his family was preparing for their annual excursion.
Though, he couldn’t really complain. After all, he was getting to visit the beaches of Catalahara for free. A weekend of bright sun, warm weather, and all the hotties in bikinis. Now it would be his friends who would be jealous of him. A few of them had sent him messages wishing him good luck and to have fun on his vacation.
“Peter! Are you awake yet?”
“Yeah! I’m coming down soon!” Peter shouted down, responding to his mother that had called out to him. He hopped out of bed and threw on the clothes that he had set aside for today. Just a simple blue T-shirt and jeans, totally fine for the trip to the beach. He combed his hair up, admiring himself in the mirror. “This year, you’re gonna break your record of 4.” He clicked his tongue at himself and applied some cologne.
Standing at a solid 6’ 2”, he was certainly glad that he was out of his awkward short phase from middle school. Now a 19 year old strapping sophomore in college, he was definitely one to catch the wandering eyes of the ladies. Not that he could blame them; with his toned natural physique, chiseled chin, and deep brown eyes, all it would take was the right look and suave lines to make a lady swoon. And then, once they saw what he was packing at 6 inches, well, it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out what happened later that night.
Yeah, Peter didn’t really have much to complain about with his life. His parents were very well off, with his mother working as a teacher for the local community college and his father working an office job, so money wasn’t ever really an issue for them. His grades weren’t the best, but they were decent enough to keep getting by. And of course, he had game, living the full college experience with parties, ladies, and fun.
Having finished admiring himself in the mirror, he left his room and headed quickly to the bathroom. He opened up the door and was about to take a whizz when something, or rather someone, stopped him.
“Peter! What the fuck!? Knock jackass!”
Standing there in just a bathrobe was none other than his older sister, Brooke.
Now if Peter was, as he liked to compare himself to, a blue ribbon at the state fair, then Brooke was the winning dish from nationals. Standing at a modest 5’ 6”, she blew Peter’s toned body out of the water with her athletic build. Long blonde hair with pink highlights that she would often dye, gorgeous green eyes, and a killer rack of abs, with most of her body fat going to her D cups, most women would kill for a body like hers. A natural born track star from birth, she held practically every track and field record at their old high school and had the physique to back it up and then some. Not only was she more toned than Peter, but her grades were practically perfect, which she owed to her method of studying while exercising. However, she wasn’t the greatest at being social, preferring to focus more on her studies and exercise, though she did have a few close friends.
Truth be told, if she wasn’t her sister, Peter would be all over a girl like that. She had the body and the brains. However, Brooke had a tendency to remind Peter that not all that glittered was golden.
“Get the fuck out!” Brooke shouted as she pushed Peter out of the bathroom.
“Hey, I need to use the bathroom!” Peter complained as Brooke shoved him.
“Go use the other one. I was here first!” With that, Brooke locked the door.
Peter grumbled, but reluctantly made his way downstairs. Before he could make it to the bathroom, another voice stopped him.
“Come on. It’s vacation time. Can’t you two get along for just a few days?”
This time, it was his father, Hector, stepping out of the master bedroom. Peter was practically a spitting image of his father when he was younger. Hector stood at a respectable 6’ 4”, just a couple inches over Peter. His wavy brown hair fell down along the sides of his head, accenting his beard that was neatly trimmed as always, accented by his brown eyes. Hector was more muscular than Peter, which he owed to the days of being a surfer before he settled down. His physique always made it a little hilarious when the man who looked like the pinnacle of a surfer dude went to work wearing a suit and tie. But, today wasn’t a suit day; today was a day for a black T-shirt and brown shorts.
“Sorry Dad,” Peter said, not wanting to get an earful. “We’ll get alone. I promise.”
“You two better,” Hector said as he patted Peter on the shoulder. “Remember, we’re leaving soon, so don’t take too long.” With that, he made his way to the kitchen.
Peter quickly headed to the bathroom, relieving himself. Finished, he headed to the kitchen at the same time that Brooke made her way downstairs, dressed in a purple tank top and white booty shorts. The two of them headed into the kitchen, and were immediately assaulted by the smells of freshly cooked bacon and flapjacks.
“Now, be sure to eat well. The less stops we have to make for food, the sooner we reach the beaches.”
Handing out the plates of breakfast was Peter’s mother, Veronica. If Peter was the younger version of Hector, then Brooke was the younger version of Veronica. Standing at a surprising 5’ 10”, she had quite the height difference between herself and Brooke than Hector and Peter. She often wore her light blonde hair up in a ponytail to help keep it out of her face. Today, she was wearing a brown top with a bit of a deep U cut to it to accent her E cups and a long green skirt, which fit snugly against her body to show off her hips.
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Hector said with a hearty laugh as Peter and Brooke took their seats at the table. “Nice perfume, dear.” Hector said as Veronica handed him a plate.
“Oh, thanks. Thought I’d try something new today,” Veronica said as she handed out plates to Peter and Brooke.
The four of them ate until they were stuffed, cleaned up, and then piled into the car. Hector took up the driver seat, with Veronica in the passenger seat. Peter sat behind Veronica while Brooke was behind Hector. The drive wasn’t too boring, as Peter mostly passed the time by watching videos on his phone. Occasionally, he would hear Brooke adjust herself in her seat as she read her books or hearing his parents flirt back and forth, but he kept focus on his phone. Before long, the view of the beach house appeared on the horizon. Within minutes, they were unpacked and settled in as the sun shone high in the sky.
“Ah, hello Catalahara Beach!” Peter said as he stepped out onto the back porch, basking in the warm sun and the breeze. “How I have missed you.”
“You know, it’s better to get out there than just to stare at it, right?” Brooke said as she came up next to him, wearing a blue bikini that left little to the imagination. She adjusted her sunglasses and headed out through the backyard towards the path that led to the beach. Shortly following behind Brooke was Veronica and Hector, both of whom were wearing their swimsuits and carrying beach towels.
“You gonna get dressed and come along?” Hector asked, his arm around Veronica’s waist.
“Since you’re the last one to leave, be sure to bring along the cooler and the beach bag that’s on the table,” Veronica said as she and Hector headed to the beach.
“Alright, I will,” Peter grumbled as he headed back inside the house. “Not sure why they couldn’t have gotten it,” he muttered to himself. Peter headed to his room and quickly got undressed. He went into his suitcase and slipped on a pair of swimming trunks. Then, he walked around the house, finding the cooler and the beach bag in the kitchen. He slung the bag over his shoulder and dragged the cooler down the path to the beach.
What greeted him was the gorgeous sight of Catalahara Beach and all the beachgoers, enjoying the warm weather and splayed out on display, soaking up the sunlight. Peter could see his family down by the water; Hector already had some chairs set up with Brooke sitting in one of them while Veronica had her feet in the water. Peter wheeled the cooler down and sat it next to the chairs and plopped the bag down onto the sand.
“Time to enjoy this vacation!” Peter said loudly. He was about to head into the water when he felt his father’s hand on his shoulder.
“Not so fast,” Hector said as he picked up the bottle of sunscreen and tossed it to Peter. “Be sure to cover up. We don’t need some sunburn to ruin our vacation and you burn faster than a paper bag..”
“Yeah yeah, I know,” Peter said as he squirted out some into his hand. Of course he couldn’t get the genes from his father that made him resistant to sunburns. But, no, only Brooke got those, leaving Peter with his mother’s genes that made them need to use sunscreen far more. He applied it to his face and chest, rubbing it on his arms and legs. But, when it came to reaching his back, his arms weren’t flexible enough to reach everywhere to cover it. Try as he might, there were definitely spots that his hands couldn’t get to.
“Do you need some help?” Veronica asked as she walked up to Peter. “I forgot to apply some sunscreen myself.” Without waiting for a response, Veronica squeezed some sunscreen onto her palms. She moved behind Peter and started to press her hands along his back.
Peter shuddered at the coldness of the sunscreen, juxtaposed to the awkward warmth that his face was feeling and it wasn’t from the sun.
“No! Not again!” Peter thought to himself as he tried to stay still. “Think of anything else!”
Sure, he had taken a few glances here and there, but with how Veronica enjoyed showing off her body, it wasn’t unusual. But, she was his own mother! He had to push the thoughts out of his mind. Unfortunately, it only got filled with memories of his friends commenting about how sexy Veronica was. There were countless beach babes available for him to charm and here he was stuck with these thoughts.
“And done,” Veronica said.
“Great thanks!” Peter shouted as he bolted from where he was to the water’s edge.
“Oh, have fun!” Veronica said. She turned over to Hector, who gave her a wink as he squeezed sunscreen onto his hands.
The moment Peter’s feet hit the water, all the worries and stresses he had built up in his body instantly faded away. He sighed in relief as he waded into the blue waters, slowly heading in deeper and deeper until he was chest deep in and just floated in the water. The sky above had a few clouds, which provided passing shade now and then.
“Yeah, this is the life,” Peter said as he closed his eyes and began to unwind.
The day slipped past as the Shale family enjoyed the first day on the beach. Occasionally, Peter’s efforts of relaxing were drawn away by a bikini-clad lady, or his family calling him in for something. Sometimes it was food, but most of the time, it was so he and Veronica could reapply their sunscreen.
Before long, the sun had long set and most of the other beachgoers had headed back to their homes, but not the Shale family. Instead, against the backdrop of the moonlit night, there was a lone campfire that they were all gathered around.
“So, is there anything exciting that either of you are hoping to do this vacation?” Veronica asked as she looked over to Peter and Brooke.
“I’m content to just enjoy the nice time that we have here,” Brooke said as she flipped to the next page of her book.
“Are you just gonna read the whole time?” Peter sneered at Brooke, to which she just rolled her eyes.
“Well, I know that I heard that Demitri can get us a good price on a set of jetski rides,” Hector said as he leaned forward, tossing another log onto the fire. “How does that sound to you kids?”
“I think that sounds totally awesome!” Peter said, pumping his fists into the air.
“That’s my boy!” Hector said, high fiving him.
“I can’t say that I ever had the chance. I’d love the opportunity, Dad,” Brooke said as she smiled, thinking about getting to ride the waves.
“Well, I’ll be happy to watch from the docks,” Veronica said, leaning up against Hector’s arm.
“Oh, nonsense. You can join me and sit on the back, holding on tight,” Hector said, a bit of a purr in his voice as he pulled Veronica in tighter.
“Well if you insist, my dear,” Veronica said with a light chuckle. She looked up to the sky, admiring the twinkling lights above. “Are they all so beautiful? The stars?”
“Yeah, they sure are pretty. Can’t get views like this back home,” Hector said as he gestured out to the ocean and the moon above.
“Hey,” Peter said as he pointed up to the sky. “Is that a shooting star?”
The four of them all looked to where Peter was pointing, observing a glowing light burning up in the atmosphere.
“Oh, I wish that times like these could last forever,” Veronica said as she looked at the star.
“I wish the same thing,” Hector said as he looked up.
“I wish to get that award that I’ve been trying for,” Brooke said, closing her eyes.
“Well I wish that-” Peter tilted his head as he looked up at the burning light. “Wait, is it getting larger?”
The Shale family looked closely at the light. “Wait,” Brooke said as she squinted. “It’s not getting larger. It’s just getting closer! And it’s coming towards us!”
The four of them scrambled to move out of the way of the incoming light, but the sand proved to be a slippery surface compared to solid ground. Veronica fell almost immediately as she twisted around to run back towards the house. Hector was able to dig his heels in, but turned back to go protect Veronica. Brooke started to run to the side to get out of the way while Peter could only try to duck out of the way, leaping from his seat. But, despite their best efforts, it was too late.
The burning light crashed down into the sand with a mighty force, whipping the sand up in a furious frenzy as the light caved in the ground and creating a crater. The light exploded around in a brilliant light, then fizzled out into small glowing orange embers that gently dissipated into the air.
“Hector! Peter! Brooke!”
Peter could vaguely hear his mother calling out to him. He struggled to open up his eyes, everything swirling around in a daze. His head was ringing from the impact as he tried to focus on what just happened. He forced himself up and off the sand, staggering towards where he heard his mother’s voice.
“I’m over here!” Peter shouted. He walked forward a little more, confused about where exactly he was going. With fire having been taken out by the impact, he had lost all landmarks he could easily focus on. “Whoa!” Peter fell face forward as he tripped over Brooke, who was laying on the sand, so he must have stumbled somehow in her direction. “Brooke, are you alright?” She groaned in response, but didn’t open her eyes. Mustering up his strength, Peter lifted Brooke up and slung her arm over his shoulder.
“Peter! Where are you?” Veronica called out.
“I’m over here!” Peter said as his eyes started to refocus. He dragged Brooke over to Veronica, who was struggling to lift up Hector.
“Here, help me with your father,” Veronica said as Peter set Brooke down. With the two of them, they were able to lift up Hector. Peter held Hector as Veronica went and picked up Brooke. “Come on, back to the house!” Veronica went ahead, bringing Brooke, with Peter following shortly behind.
The two of them brought Brooke and Hector to the house, locking the door behind them. Peter set Hector on the chair in the living room while Veronica laid Brooke onto the couch.
“What the hell was that?” Peter exclaimed as he looked out the backdoor towards the beach. “Was that an asteroid strike? Or a satellite crash?”
“I don’t know,” Veronica said as she rapidly looked over Hector and Brooke. “Peter, are you hurt at all?”
“Just a little shaken up,” Peter said as he checked himself for anything. Thankfully, nothing felt painful and he couldn’t see any scratches or marks. “How are you, Mom?”
“Physically, I’m fine,” Veronica said. “I’m just worried about Hector and Brooke.”
As if on cue, Hector and Brooke stirred awake, causing Veronica to yelp back in surprise. Hector and Brooke looked around, trying to get their bearings. They turned and looked over at Peter and Veronica. Peter and Veronica, meanwhile, stared at them, wide-eyed in fear.
Hector and Brooke both stared with glowing orange eyes, as brilliant as a flame. They looked down at themselves, giving confusing looks. They turned to each other and said something in a language that wasn’t human, conversing back and forth. They closed their eyes and massaged their temples simultaneously. Then, Brooke opened her eyes and turned to Peter, speaking in a strange tone.
“You, where am I?” Brooke asked.
“Brooke?” Peter asked cautiously as he looked at his sister. “It’s okay. Uh, you’re at home. Well, not home, but the beach house.”
“Beach house?” Hector asked as he looked around. “Is this Ixa 15?”
“Is this what?” Veronica asked, very confused. “Uh, dear, we’re at Catalahara Beach.” She turned to Peter. “I think they may have hit their head.”
“No, this body shows no signs of having been injured in the process,” Brooke said as she looked over herself.
“This body?” Peter squinted his eyes. “What the hell is going on?”
Hector stroked his chin as he rubbed his temple. “Ah, more lexicon comes in.” He opened his eyes and frowned. “Ugh, the coordinates were off. I thought I had seen the signal.”
“Signal?” Peter asked.
“Yes. The rapid flickering of lights to signify that this was Ixa 15. But, based on these memories, it would seem that this is not the right planet,” Brooke said.
“Rapid flickering? Planet?” Peter asked, though he started to piece together everything. “Wait, are you…”
“This should have been far easier.” Brooke walked over, getting up near Peter’s face. “I am recalling that you were near the impact site.” She ran her finger along Peter’s body and rubbed it between her fingers. “The particles spread to you, but you were unaffected. Curious.”
“You’re an alien!” Peter shouted, causing Veronica to hug tightly to Peter’s arm.
“Aliens! But, those aren’t real!” Veronica shivered as she looked at Brooke and Hector.
“Ugh, don’t shout,” Brooke and Hector said as they held their heads. “I am still adjusting to how these bodies process sound.”
“Who… What are you?” Peter asked, staring at what used to be his sister and his father.
Hector and Brooke both stood side by side and bowed in perfect synchronous action. They both spoke at the same in perfect unison. “I am Krasid, a traveler from Zorben 18, on my way to Ixa 15. But, it would seem that I mistook a signal from here as the sign for Ixa 15.”
“Wait, which of you is Kas, uh, Kar, uh, Krasid?” Peter stammered.
“Both of us,” Hector and Brooke said. “Well, technically, we are one, shared now across two. Still, you both were at the impact site. How were you unaffected?” Brooke leaned in close to Peter, sniffing him, and then sniffing Veronica. “Ugh, what is that foul stench upon you both? It permeates you strongly. It has a metallic scent to it.” Brooke sniffed her arms and scowled. “It’s on these bodies as well, but not nearly as potent.”
“What?” Peter asked, confused. He racked his brain, trying to figure out what it could possibly be. “Metallic and only strongly on us? Wait, could it be sunscreen?”
“Based on the knowledge from this one,” Brooke said, “I believe that is the case.” She closed her eyes. “Ugh, yes. This one had memorized that the main ingredient is titanium dioxide. Ugh, horrible tasting stuff.”
“So, our sunscreen protected us from you?” Peter asked, looking around frantically for any possible remaining bottles around.
“Yes, that’s correct,” Hector said with a frown. “Ugh, figures that this planet would have such an awful substance.” Hector sighed and looked at the two of them. “I can tell that you two are very shaken up by this. So, allow me to give you some reassurance.” Brooke joined in, her and Hector matching in perfect unison. “I mean you all no harm. I simply wish to make my way to my destination. If you can help me, then I’ll be on my way, no problem.”
“Give us back my husband and daughter!” Veronica shouted from behind the two of them, having slipped away while Krasid was focused on Peter. She sprayed Hector and Brooke with spray-on sunscreen, but the two of them just coughed and wiped it away.
“That stuff only stops the bonding attempt,” Hector said as he flicked off the lotion. “Once we’re already in a host, it won’t do anything.”
“Are… you going to take over Peter and I now?” Veronica said as she stepped back in fear.
“No,” Brooke said with a sigh. “Once a bonding attempt has failed, it won’t work again with that host.” She crossed her arms. “Meaning, no, I won’t be able to bond you two.”
“Well, unbond with them!” Peter shouted. “Give them back!”
Hector sighed and Brooke turned to Peter, speaking to him. “I can’t do that. Once the bonding process has taken effect, separating without the proper materials would cause irreparable damage to the host.” Peter and Veronica both gulped. “And, no idea if your planet has such materials.” Brooke and Hector huffed, emitting a soft cloud of orange lights towards Peter and Veronica. “Now, let’s just calm down.”
Peter and Veronica both felt themselves starting to calm down a little bit. While this was a terrifying situation for them, it would seem that Krasid didn’t want to hurt anyone.
“What will happen to them when you are unbonded if we did it properly?” Peter asked.
“They’ll be unharmed,” Brooke said. “They are still in here, but, more like they are sleeping.” She bowed to Peter as Hector bowed to Veronica. “I swear, that if you help me unbond and get on my way, then I shall return them completely unharmed to you. I will also make sure no harm comes to either of you two.” Brooke and Hector extended their hands. “The memories say that you humans do this gesture to symbolize an agreement. Do we have an agreement?”
Peter looked over at Veronica, unsure of what to do. Krasid seemed genuine in what they were saying, and as of right now, it didn’t seem like they had a choice. Veronica looked back to Peter and nodded, coming to the same conclusion he did.
“Okay, we have an agreement,” Peter said as he shook Brooke’s hand.
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Sarah Thompson is the only human in Monsfield, a place full of alien women who look like anthropomorphic Furries. Not only that, but they also are all nude! It's been a year since Sarah arrived. How is she adjusting?
Sarah Thompson stared up at the ceiling, her alarm clock having woken her with its ringing. A big part of her wanted to stay curled up under the covers and stay hidden, but her rumbling stomach had entirely different ideas. She didn’t want to leave her house, because it would mean that she would have to deal with all of them. Her neighbors. Her fellow citizens. Her community. Her stomach rumbled again, much louder and more intense. With a heavy sigh, she threw the covers off of herself.
“Ugh, fine!” She shouted to herself and walked over to her closet, if it could even be called that.
Hanging there was a soft wool shirt and a pair of denim jeans that clearly showed their age. It is what happens when you’re stuck in a town where no one wears anything. Well, that wasn’t quite right. When it got colder, some of the town folks would wear a thin shirt, but that was it, and that was only during the three winter months.
Sarah groaned as she pulled them from their hanger. It was bad enough that she was already getting more used to sleeping in just her bra and panties. She held up the shirt and stared at it. There were bits and parts of it fraying at the seams. A few times, she has had to repair the little rips and tears that some of the neighbor’s kids accidentally made. A year’s worth of damage and wear and tear showed the effects of time; the color of the shirt having long faded from a crisp red to a pale pink.
Her denim jeans were in far worse shape; having been torn and ripped to the point they were more patches than pants. The dark blue has long become washed away from the exposure to the sun and rain. It looked like all it would take is just a simple breeze or a stray claw from a running child catching their paw to unravel the whole thing. With a big sigh and a heavy heart, Sarah opted to leave the jeans in the closet.
“It would be better to save these for when I find a way to return home,” she said as she looked at them. As she said that, she felt her heart sink to her stomach. “If… I find a way to return home,” she corrected herself.
It had been a year to the date since she accidentally had touched that glowing rock she found in the desert that fateful night. It had been a year to the date that she found herself transported to the town of Monsfield, afraid and confused. It had been a year to the date that she struggled to find a way back home.
None of the stars were anything that she knew. None of the townsfolk had heard of a place called America, much less Idaho. In fact, she was the first human that they had seen at all; and in turn, they were the first Anthros that she had ever encountered. Women covered in fur, scales, and feathers lived in harmony here, a peace which had only been disturbed by Sarah’s sudden appearance.
Though, she couldn’t quite complain. She counted herself lucky that none of the women had any cravings for human flesh. In fact, they were incredibly nice to her, helping by building her the house that she had been living in and doing what they could to help her adjust. Her clothes had only even survived this long because some of the Anthros were able to make rudimentary washers and dryers.
With another heavy sigh, Sarah put on her shirt over her bra, leaving her panties exposed out to the world. It certainly wasn’t ideal, but it was what she could do for right now. She felt that if she was rescued, being stuck bottomless would be somehow worse than being topless. Sarah closed the doors of her closet and picked up her personal belongings. Once she made sure she had everything, she made her way out the door.
The sun shone down brightly on her, feeling more intense as this was the first time that she really felt the sunlight on her exposed legs. The wind that blew through, tossing up leaves and a few stray pieces of trash, tickled her knees and calves. She paused for a bit, thinking to herself. Maybe it wouldn’t be too late to turn back and just hide away in her house. Maybe the neighbors would be nice enough to just drop off food. She wouldn’t have to leave at all and show everyone-
“Good morning Sarah!”
Sarah turned to see Gabrielle, the neighbor to her west. Gabrielle, who resembled an anthropomorphic giraffe, was trimming her hedges with a large pair of shears. Just like all the other Anthros, Gabrielle wasn’t wearing anything. Sarah couldn’t fathom how she could just do everything while being nude. Of course, it made some sense considering everyone had some extra layer of protection besides just their skin, like fur or feathers, but to just be exposed and nude? Sarah couldn’t even look at her neighbors but stare at their eyes for about a solid month. Now she was able to at least look at them in a rather casual sense, but still tended to avoid looking anywhere but their faces.
“Uh, good morning Gabrielle,” Sarah said, trying to subtly avoid eye contact. She could feel her face turning red from embarrassment at being pantless. Out of all the neighbors to have seen her, it just had to be one with a height advantage.
“Did you sleep well?” Gabrielle asked as she reached up and trimmed a few more branches off of the hedges. She turned to Sarah, curious as to why Sarah was avoiding looking at her, but then she looked down. “Well oh my stars! Sarah, am I seeing what I’m seeing?” Gabrielle said as she put down the shears and started to walk over to meet with Sarah.
“Uh, depends. What are you seeing?” Sarah said, still avoiding looking at Gabrielle.
“Why, you’re without your pants!” Gabrielle said in a cheerful voice as she was now in Sarah’s yard.
“Well, uh, my pants are getting very worn, so, well, I figured I’d now save them for special occasions,” Sarah said, blushing harder from how positive Gabrielle was being about this.
“You getting more comfortable?” Gabrielle said as she bent down to get more on eye level with Sarah.
“Uh, I guess you could say that,” Sarah said, finally stopping trying to avoid eye contact with Gabriella. She turned and saw Gabrielle’s smiling face and something about that filled her with warmth, like an artist getting positive feedback about their latest art piece.
“Wonderful!” Gabrielle said as she clapped her hands together. “This calls for a celebration!”
“No no!” Sarah said as she blushed hard again. “There’s no need to celebrate and make this a big deal.”
Gabrielle huffed a little, but then snapped her fingers as an idea came to her. “Well, then it’s a celebration for your one year of coming to Monsfield.” Gabrielle put her arm around Sarah. “Come on. At the very least, let me treat you to breakfast at Monique’s!”
“I… Alright,” Sarah said reluctantly, but she couldn’t help but feel a bit of building optimism in herself. Gabrielle’s response to Sarah going pantless was, while not surprising given the community, a welcomed one.
The two of them walked their way over to Monique’s, passing by a few other citizens of Monsfield. Despite Sarah’s hesitation, everyone gave her a warm thumbs-up at her showing off her legs. A group of joggers even complimented her legs, which given that they were all Anthros that were anthropomorphic cheetahs, made Sarah feel even better. After a bit, the two of them opened up the front door to Monique’s.
“Gabrielle! Sarah! Welcome darlings!” Monique chirped from the kitchen over the sounds of the grill. Sarah always admired how Monique, despite being an anthropomorphic toucan, never let it get in the way of the quality food that she made. “Looking even chipper than usual. What’s the occasion?”
“Have you forgotten already?” Gabriella said as she took a seat at the counter, with Sarah taking the seat next to her. “Monique, we’re celebrating Sarah’s one year anniversary of her arrival in Monsfield!”
“My my! Has it been a year already!” Monique came out from the kitchen and stood on the other side of the counter from the two of them. As usual, she was wearing nothing but a cooking apron. “Time really flew by quite fast, didn't it?”
“Yeah, it has,” Sarah said as she crossed her legs a bit in embarrassment. At least here at the counter, few people could see that she wasn’t wearing pants and had her panties out on display.
“Well, what do you want dearie?” Monique asked, smiling at Sarah. “It’s on the house.”
“Oh no, please, I couldn’t possibly!” Sarah said, but Monique just put a feather up to Sarah’s lips.
“Nonsense. We have to celebrate the anniversary of the arrival of one of our favorite people,” Monique said as she gently lowered the feather. “Now, what will you have?”
“I guess I’ll go with the Breakfast Salad with a side of Wonton Bacon,” Sarah said as she looked over the menu.
“And I’ll go with just a fruit salad,” Gabrielle said.
“Not a problem dearies. I’ll get right to work on that.” Monique poured the two of them glasses of water. Then, she headed back into the kitchen and got to work on their orders.
“So, besides this,” Gabrielle said as she turned to Sarah, “What other plans do you have today? How else are you going to celebrate?”
Sarah looked down at her water, gently swirling it around. “I… don’t really know. A part of me doesn’t want to accept that I’ve been stuck here a year.” She quickly realized what she said and turned to Gabrielle. “Shit! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean stuck in a bad way! I mean like-”
“Relax,” Gabrielle said as she patted Sarah on the back. “I’ve dealt with you as a neighbor for a year and been your friend for most of that time. I think I know what you mean.” She took a sip of her water and sighed, relaxing. “I’m sorry that you haven’t had any success getting back to your world.”
Sarah sunk into herself a little, still feeling a little guilty about what she had said. “You. Monique. Everyone here in Monsfield has been incredible to me.” She gently rubbed her finger along the edge of her glass. “I just…” She looked down at her legs, gently uncrossing them. “I guess a part of me has been hesitant to accept the way things are here. I’ve always felt like an outsider and it was better that way. Because, when I do accept things, then this place will start to feel like home. And, when that does…”
“What happens then with your old home then?” Gabrielle said, finishing her sentence and taking a sip of her water.
“Yeah,” Sarah said. “There’s a bunch of stuff and people that I left behind. I just feel like a betrayal if I were to just give up on them.”
“But you aren’t betraying them,” Gabrielle said as she turned to Sarah. “You said that there was a certain phrase that you humans had back on Idaho. Something like when in Rome, do the Romans?”
“When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” Sarah said as she looked down at her thighs again. “It means that, when you’re someplace, you should respect their traditions and customs.” She turned back to Gabrielle’s smiling face, and then thought about the positive response that she got from just showing off her legs. Sarah took a big gulp of water and then stood up.
Slowly, she reached down and gripped her thumbs underneath the waistband of her panties. Gently, Sarah pulled them down, exposing her bare ass and crotch to all the patrons in the restaurant. Most of the patrons were looking at her, not with disgust or judgment, but with positivity and ecstatic joy. It was also the moment that Monique had walked out of the kitchen and was on the other side of the counter, also enjoying the show. Then, Sarah’s panties fell to her ankles. She stepped out of them and took a deep breath again. She allowed the air to lick at her exposed skin and shuddered a bit in delight. There was just something about it that was freeing and exhilarating. She bent down and picked up her panties and bundled them into a ball.
Sarah sat back down in her seat, allowing herself to truly feel the subtle textures of the chair. She reached over and handed the panties to Gabrielle. “When I do leave and return back to Idaho, you can give those back to me. Until then, I’m going to do as the Anthros do while I’m here in Monsfield.”
The people in the restaurant cheered at Sarah’s decision to start to really embrace their way of living. Gabrielle gave Sarah a nod and a smile as she took the panties. “I’ll keep them safe and be sure to return them to you.”
“Now that’s another reason to celebrate!” Monique chirped delightfully. “Now, eat up you two! I don’t want to see my hard work go to waste.”
Sarah and Gabrielle both nodded and began to eat their breakfast, though Sarah ate with a renewed vigor. There was a wide smile on her face as she ate her breakfast. She felt refreshed and renewed, like she had just been reborn. Even the food felt like it was the first time eating it.
After a short bit, the two of them finished up their meals.
“So, how else are you two going to celebrate Sarah’s anniversary?” Monique asked as she picked up the plates.
Sarah pondered to herself. “I don’t really know,” she said, still smiling. “Maybe I’ll see what work needs done around town on the bulletin board.” She hopped off the chair and Gabrielle shortly followed after her. “I’ll see you around, Monique!”
Monique waved back to her. “And I’ll be happy to be seeing more of you!”
With that, after a short trip back to Gabrielle’s house so Gabrielle could put the panties away safely, they went about their day. The smile almost never left Sarah’s face, and only increased each time she was complimented about how good she looked bottomless. For the first time in a whole year, Sarah was starting to feel like she could really find a place to fit in in Monsfield. And being with Gabrielle was really helping her. She could get used to this feeling, both the compliments and the freedom of being bottomless. Maybe one day, she’d even go without a top, but that was quite a bit away. For now, she would enjoy her day.
One year later, Sarah awoke to her alarm again. She groaned as she reached over to turn off her alarm. She curled herself back into her blankets, wanting to stay in its warm embrace.
“Good morning gorgeous,” Gabrielle said as she wandered into the room. As usual, she was wearing nothing at all. She bent down and planted a firm kiss on Sarah’s lips and gently cupped her hands around Sarah’s face to slowly drag her out from her blanket cocoon. “Happy Arrival-versary.”
“Thanks darling,” Sarah said as she, reluctantly, broke the kiss between them.
“If you want breakfast, you’re gonna have to get out of bed,” Gabrielle said as she lifted up the blankets and began to fold them.
“Evil,” Sarah said playfully as used the opportunity to rub her hands over Gabrielle’s fur.
“Oh, someone’s quite handsy this morning,” Gabrielle chuckled as she enjoyed the sensation of Sarah’s fingers coursing through her fur. “Did you not get enough last night?”
“We both know that I could always want more from you,” Sarah said as she pressed her naked bosom against Gabrielle’s arm. “Come on. Don’t you wanna give me a little bit more right now?” To that, Sarah was met with a blanket to the face.
“Later gorgeous. You’ll throw off the whole day that I have planned for you.” Gabrielle turned around and kissed Sarah on the cheek. “As punishment for being impatient, you get to put the sheets away today.” With that Gabrielle stood up and jiggled her ass a little bit for Sarah. “I’ll be in the living room when you’re ready.” Then, she walked out, her hips swaying in just the way that Sarah loved to see.
“Hate to see you going, but love to watch you leave!” Sarah shouted after her.
She sighed and refolded the blanket. Sarah made her way over to the closet and looked for an open space to put them, sadly seeing that the only open space was near the top. “Of course she couldn’t just leave a spot where I could get it. No, it just had to be high up where she could get it with ease.” Sarah stretched her arms up, getting onto her tiptoes and tried to put the blankets away.
However, it wasn’t enough and her hand caught on the rest of the blankets, bringing them tumbling down. Sarah was covered in nice sheets that had been folded and something unusual. Something that didn’t quite feel like a blanket. Sarah pulled all the blankets off of her to find out what the strange thing was, only to find that it was a pair of denim jeans that had been torn and ripped to the point they were more patches than pants. The dark blue had long become washed away from the exposure to the sun and rain. She looked at them with a bit of a strange curiosity.
“So that’s where you had gotten off to,” Sarah said to her pants as she held them. A gentle smile drew across her face. There was a strange longing to put them back on, but on the other hand, it felt almost alien to her now. Having lived the last year nude had really freed her from the bonds of her old ways. “I’m still gonna keep you,” she said as she gently folded the jeans. “After all, I still have some hope that humanity will find me, but while I’m here in Monsfield…”
Sarah placed the jeans back into the closet, and then spent the next few minutes refolding all the blankets and stuffing them back neatly. She shut the closet doors and then headed out to meet with Gabrielle.
“...I’m gonna do as the Anthros do, and enjoy a world without pants.”
Sarah Thompson stared up at the ceiling, her alarm clock having woken her with its ringing. A big part of her wanted to stay curled up under the covers and stay hidden, but her rumbling stomach had entirely different ideas. She didn’t want to leave her house, because it would mean that she would have to deal with all of them. Her neighbors. Her fellow citizens. Her community. Her stomach rumbled again, much louder and more intense. With a heavy sigh, she threw the covers off of herself.
“Ugh, fine!” She shouted to herself and walked over to her closet, if it could even be called that.
Hanging there was a soft wool shirt and a pair of denim jeans that clearly showed their age. It is what happens when you’re stuck in a town where no one wears anything. Well, that wasn’t quite right. When it got colder, some of the town folks would wear a thin shirt, but that was it, and that was only during the three winter months.
Sarah groaned as she pulled them from their hanger. It was bad enough that she was already getting more used to sleeping in just her bra and panties. She held up the shirt and stared at it. There were bits and parts of it fraying at the seams. A few times, she has had to repair the little rips and tears that some of the neighbor’s kids accidentally made. A year’s worth of damage and wear and tear showed the effects of time; the color of the shirt having long faded from a crisp red to a pale pink.
Her denim jeans were in far worse shape; having been torn and ripped to the point they were more patches than pants. The dark blue has long become washed away from the exposure to the sun and rain. It looked like all it would take is just a simple breeze or a stray claw from a running child catching their paw to unravel the whole thing. With a big sigh and a heavy heart, Sarah opted to leave the jeans in the closet.
“It would be better to save these for when I find a way to return home,” she said as she looked at them. As she said that, she felt her heart sink to her stomach. “If… I find a way to return home,” she corrected herself.
It had been a year to the date since she accidentally had touched that glowing rock she found in the desert that fateful night. It had been a year to the date that she found herself transported to the town of Monsfield, afraid and confused. It had been a year to the date that she struggled to find a way back home.
None of the stars were anything that she knew. None of the townsfolk had heard of a place called America, much less Idaho. In fact, she was the first human that they had seen at all; and in turn, they were the first Anthros that she had ever encountered. Women covered in fur, scales, and feathers lived in harmony here, a peace which had only been disturbed by Sarah’s sudden appearance.
Though, she couldn’t quite complain. She counted herself lucky that none of the women had any cravings for human flesh. In fact, they were incredibly nice to her, helping by building her the house that she had been living in and doing what they could to help her adjust. Her clothes had only even survived this long because some of the Anthros were able to make rudimentary washers and dryers.
With another heavy sigh, Sarah put on her shirt over her bra, leaving her panties exposed out to the world. It certainly wasn’t ideal, but it was what she could do for right now. She felt that if she was rescued, being stuck bottomless would be somehow worse than being topless. Sarah closed the doors of her closet and picked up her personal belongings. Once she made sure she had everything, she made her way out the door.
The sun shone down brightly on her, feeling more intense as this was the first time that she really felt the sunlight on her exposed legs. The wind that blew through, tossing up leaves and a few stray pieces of trash, tickled her knees and calves. She paused for a bit, thinking to herself. Maybe it wouldn’t be too late to turn back and just hide away in her house. Maybe the neighbors would be nice enough to just drop off food. She wouldn’t have to leave at all and show everyone-
“Good morning Sarah!”
Sarah turned to see Gabrielle, the neighbor to her west. Gabrielle, who resembled an anthropomorphic giraffe, was trimming her hedges with a large pair of shears. Just like all the other Anthros, Gabrielle wasn’t wearing anything. Sarah couldn’t fathom how she could just do everything while being nude. Of course, it made some sense considering everyone had some extra layer of protection besides just their skin, like fur or feathers, but to just be exposed and nude? Sarah couldn’t even look at her neighbors but stare at their eyes for about a solid month. Now she was able to at least look at them in a rather casual sense, but still tended to avoid looking anywhere but their faces.
“Uh, good morning Gabrielle,” Sarah said, trying to subtly avoid eye contact. She could feel her face turning red from embarrassment at being pantless. Out of all the neighbors to have seen her, it just had to be one with a height advantage.
“Did you sleep well?” Gabrielle asked as she reached up and trimmed a few more branches off of the hedges. She turned to Sarah, curious as to why Sarah was avoiding looking at her, but then she looked down. “Well oh my stars! Sarah, am I seeing what I’m seeing?” Gabrielle said as she put down the shears and started to walk over to meet with Sarah.
“Uh, depends. What are you seeing?” Sarah said, still avoiding looking at Gabrielle.
“Why, you’re without your pants!” Gabrielle said in a cheerful voice as she was now in Sarah’s yard.
“Well, uh, my pants are getting very worn, so, well, I figured I’d now save them for special occasions,” Sarah said, blushing harder from how positive Gabrielle was being about this.
“You getting more comfortable?” Gabrielle said as she bent down to get more on eye level with Sarah.
“Uh, I guess you could say that,” Sarah said, finally stopping trying to avoid eye contact with Gabriella. She turned and saw Gabrielle’s smiling face and something about that filled her with warmth, like an artist getting positive feedback about their latest art piece.
“Wonderful!” Gabrielle said as she clapped her hands together. “This calls for a celebration!”
“No no!” Sarah said as she blushed hard again. “There’s no need to celebrate and make this a big deal.”
Gabrielle huffed a little, but then snapped her fingers as an idea came to her. “Well, then it’s a celebration for your one year of coming to Monsfield.” Gabrielle put her arm around Sarah. “Come on. At the very least, let me treat you to breakfast at Monique’s!”
“I… Alright,” Sarah said reluctantly, but she couldn’t help but feel a bit of building optimism in herself. Gabrielle’s response to Sarah going pantless was, while not surprising given the community, a welcomed one.
The two of them walked their way over to Monique’s, passing by a few other citizens of Monsfield. Despite Sarah’s hesitation, everyone gave her a warm thumbs-up at her showing off her legs. A group of joggers even complimented her legs, which given that they were all Anthros that were anthropomorphic cheetahs, made Sarah feel even better. After a bit, the two of them opened up the front door to Monique’s.
“Gabrielle! Sarah! Welcome darlings!” Monique chirped from the kitchen over the sounds of the grill. Sarah always admired how Monique, despite being an anthropomorphic toucan, never let it get in the way of the quality food that she made. “Looking even chipper than usual. What’s the occasion?”
“Have you forgotten already?” Gabriella said as she took a seat at the counter, with Sarah taking the seat next to her. “Monique, we’re celebrating Sarah’s one year anniversary of her arrival in Monsfield!”
“My my! Has it been a year already!” Monique came out from the kitchen and stood on the other side of the counter from the two of them. As usual, she was wearing nothing but a cooking apron. “Time really flew by quite fast, didn't it?”
“Yeah, it has,” Sarah said as she crossed her legs a bit in embarrassment. At least here at the counter, few people could see that she wasn’t wearing pants and had her panties out on display.
“Well, what do you want dearie?” Monique asked, smiling at Sarah. “It’s on the house.”
“Oh no, please, I couldn’t possibly!” Sarah said, but Monique just put a feather up to Sarah’s lips.
“Nonsense. We have to celebrate the anniversary of the arrival of one of our favorite people,” Monique said as she gently lowered the feather. “Now, what will you have?”
“I guess I’ll go with the Breakfast Salad with a side of Wonton Bacon,” Sarah said as she looked over the menu.
“And I’ll go with just a fruit salad,” Gabrielle said.
“Not a problem dearies. I’ll get right to work on that.” Monique poured the two of them glasses of water. Then, she headed back into the kitchen and got to work on their orders.
“So, besides this,” Gabrielle said as she turned to Sarah, “What other plans do you have today? How else are you going to celebrate?”
Sarah looked down at her water, gently swirling it around. “I… don’t really know. A part of me doesn’t want to accept that I’ve been stuck here a year.” She quickly realized what she said and turned to Gabrielle. “Shit! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean stuck in a bad way! I mean like-”
“Relax,” Gabrielle said as she patted Sarah on the back. “I’ve dealt with you as a neighbor for a year and been your friend for most of that time. I think I know what you mean.” She took a sip of her water and sighed, relaxing. “I’m sorry that you haven’t had any success getting back to your world.”
Sarah sunk into herself a little, still feeling a little guilty about what she had said. “You. Monique. Everyone here in Monsfield has been incredible to me.” She gently rubbed her finger along the edge of her glass. “I just…” She looked down at her legs, gently uncrossing them. “I guess a part of me has been hesitant to accept the way things are here. I’ve always felt like an outsider and it was better that way. Because, when I do accept things, then this place will start to feel like home. And, when that does…”
“What happens then with your old home then?” Gabrielle said, finishing her sentence and taking a sip of her water.
“Yeah,” Sarah said. “There’s a bunch of stuff and people that I left behind. I just feel like a betrayal if I were to just give up on them.”
“But you aren’t betraying them,” Gabrielle said as she turned to Sarah. “You said that there was a certain phrase that you humans had back on Idaho. Something like when in Rome, do the Romans?”
“When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” Sarah said as she looked down at her thighs again. “It means that, when you’re someplace, you should respect their traditions and customs.” She turned back to Gabrielle’s smiling face, and then thought about the positive response that she got from just showing off her legs. Sarah took a big gulp of water and then stood up.
Slowly, she reached down and gripped her thumbs underneath the waistband of her panties. Gently, Sarah pulled them down, exposing her bare ass and crotch to all the patrons in the restaurant. Most of the patrons were looking at her, not with disgust or judgment, but with positivity and ecstatic joy. It was also the moment that Monique had walked out of the kitchen and was on the other side of the counter, also enjoying the show. Then, Sarah’s panties fell to her ankles. She stepped out of them and took a deep breath again. She allowed the air to lick at her exposed skin and shuddered a bit in delight. There was just something about it that was freeing and exhilarating. She bent down and picked up her panties and bundled them into a ball.
Sarah sat back down in her seat, allowing herself to truly feel the subtle textures of the chair. She reached over and handed the panties to Gabrielle. “When I do leave and return back to Idaho, you can give those back to me. Until then, I’m going to do as the Anthros do while I’m here in Monsfield.”
The people in the restaurant cheered at Sarah’s decision to start to really embrace their way of living. Gabrielle gave Sarah a nod and a smile as she took the panties. “I’ll keep them safe and be sure to return them to you.”
“Now that’s another reason to celebrate!” Monique chirped delightfully. “Now, eat up you two! I don’t want to see my hard work go to waste.”
Sarah and Gabrielle both nodded and began to eat their breakfast, though Sarah ate with a renewed vigor. There was a wide smile on her face as she ate her breakfast. She felt refreshed and renewed, like she had just been reborn. Even the food felt like it was the first time eating it.
After a short bit, the two of them finished up their meals.
“So, how else are you two going to celebrate Sarah’s anniversary?” Monique asked as she picked up the plates.
Sarah pondered to herself. “I don’t really know,” she said, still smiling. “Maybe I’ll see what work needs done around town on the bulletin board.” She hopped off the chair and Gabrielle shortly followed after her. “I’ll see you around, Monique!”
Monique waved back to her. “And I’ll be happy to be seeing more of you!”
With that, after a short trip back to Gabrielle’s house so Gabrielle could put the panties away safely, they went about their day. The smile almost never left Sarah’s face, and only increased each time she was complimented about how good she looked bottomless. For the first time in a whole year, Sarah was starting to feel like she could really find a place to fit in in Monsfield. And being with Gabrielle was really helping her. She could get used to this feeling, both the compliments and the freedom of being bottomless. Maybe one day, she’d even go without a top, but that was quite a bit away. For now, she would enjoy her day.
One year later, Sarah awoke to her alarm again. She groaned as she reached over to turn off her alarm. She curled herself back into her blankets, wanting to stay in its warm embrace.
“Good morning gorgeous,” Gabrielle said as she wandered into the room. As usual, she was wearing nothing at all. She bent down and planted a firm kiss on Sarah’s lips and gently cupped her hands around Sarah’s face to slowly drag her out from her blanket cocoon. “Happy Arrival-versary.”
“Thanks darling,” Sarah said as she, reluctantly, broke the kiss between them.
“If you want breakfast, you’re gonna have to get out of bed,” Gabrielle said as she lifted up the blankets and began to fold them.
“Evil,” Sarah said playfully as used the opportunity to rub her hands over Gabrielle’s fur.
“Oh, someone’s quite handsy this morning,” Gabrielle chuckled as she enjoyed the sensation of Sarah’s fingers coursing through her fur. “Did you not get enough last night?”
“We both know that I could always want more from you,” Sarah said as she pressed her naked bosom against Gabrielle’s arm. “Come on. Don’t you wanna give me a little bit more right now?” To that, Sarah was met with a blanket to the face.
“Later gorgeous. You’ll throw off the whole day that I have planned for you.” Gabrielle turned around and kissed Sarah on the cheek. “As punishment for being impatient, you get to put the sheets away today.” With that Gabrielle stood up and jiggled her ass a little bit for Sarah. “I’ll be in the living room when you’re ready.” Then, she walked out, her hips swaying in just the way that Sarah loved to see.
“Hate to see you going, but love to watch you leave!” Sarah shouted after her.
She sighed and refolded the blanket. Sarah made her way over to the closet and looked for an open space to put them, sadly seeing that the only open space was near the top. “Of course she couldn’t just leave a spot where I could get it. No, it just had to be high up where she could get it with ease.” Sarah stretched her arms up, getting onto her tiptoes and tried to put the blankets away.
However, it wasn’t enough and her hand caught on the rest of the blankets, bringing them tumbling down. Sarah was covered in nice sheets that had been folded and something unusual. Something that didn’t quite feel like a blanket. Sarah pulled all the blankets off of her to find out what the strange thing was, only to find that it was a pair of denim jeans that had been torn and ripped to the point they were more patches than pants. The dark blue had long become washed away from the exposure to the sun and rain. She looked at them with a bit of a strange curiosity.
“So that’s where you had gotten off to,” Sarah said to her pants as she held them. A gentle smile drew across her face. There was a strange longing to put them back on, but on the other hand, it felt almost alien to her now. Having lived the last year nude had really freed her from the bonds of her old ways. “I’m still gonna keep you,” she said as she gently folded the jeans. “After all, I still have some hope that humanity will find me, but while I’m here in Monsfield…”
Sarah placed the jeans back into the closet, and then spent the next few minutes refolding all the blankets and stuffing them back neatly. She shut the closet doors and then headed out to meet with Gabrielle.
“...I’m gonna do as the Anthros do, and enjoy a world without pants.”
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