The Great Shift: High Flight free porn video
The Great Shift: High Flight
By Ran Dandel
"Trans-Western 623, Tower, position and hold, runway two-two-right."
"Position and hold, runway two-two-right, Trans Western 623."
Inside the cockpit, Captain Scott James and First Officer Mark Stahl finished
stowing the pre-takeoff checklist. Captain James then moved the big jet onto
the runway, and positioned it exactly on the center stripe. He smoothly
applied the brakes to hold their position.
"Mark, we're heavy today with a full load of passengers. Do you have our
speeds ready, it's about time to go."
"Yes, Sir. V1 is 125 knots, and Vr is 145. V2 is 175."
"Ok. I think the tower's going to give us clearance as soon as that DC-9
crosses the intersection."
It wasn't prophecy that made Captain James say that. It was his experience
of 25 years of flying the line. The DC-9 touched down on the crossing
runway and immediately went into reverse thrust. As it slowed, it passed
through the intersection of its runway and Trans-Western's.
". Trans-Western 623, Tower, cleared for takeoff runway two-two-right,
turn right heading two-five-zero, climb and maintain 5,000."
First Officer Stahl repeated the instruction as Captain James eased the
throttles forward towards their takeoff positions. As the big jet started to
accelerate, he moved his right hand from the throttles to the control yoke.
His left hand was occupied with the nosewheel steering tiller. Stahl replaced
the Captain's hand on the throttles with his own and adjusted them to the
proper takeoff power settings. He then kept his hand on the throttles to keep
them from moving, or to pull them back rapidly if they had to abort the
takeoff.
As the jet continued to accelerate, Captain James carefully kept the big jet's
nosewheel on the center stripe of the runway, compensating for the slight
amount of crosswind on this runway. His total concentration was on
handling the jet. First Officer Stahl's responsibility was keeping an eye on
the instruments, and monitoring the engine gauges.
"V1, Captain."
V1 is the go/no-go speed, where they must commit to takeoff.
"Vr, Captain."
Rotation speed. Captain James eased back the control column to lift the nose
of the aircraft to precisely 12 degrees, and the jet smoothly broke ground.
Both pilots heard and felt the shock absorbers on the main landing gear
bottom out with a ?thudthud' as the plane lifted off. On the Captain's order,
First Officer Stahl raised the gear handle to retract the landing gear. Captain
James then smoothly rolled the aircraft into a shallow bank to begin their
right turn.
"Trans-Western 623, Tower, contact Departure, good day."
"623 to Departure, good day."
"Departure, Trans-Western 623 climbing to 5,000"
"Trans-Western 623, Departure, cleared on course, climb and maintain one-
two-thousand, expect higher in forty miles"
"Departure, 623 to one-two-thousand, cleared on course, expecting higher in
forty"
As the jet left the initial climb segment of the flight, Captain James lowered
the nose to allow the airspeed to increase. The jet slowed its climb rate a bit,
but it speeded up to just below 250 knots. As it passed 10,000 feet, he
allowed the airspeed to start building towards cruise speed.
They eventually received clearance to their cruising altitude of 39,000 feet.
Early in the flight, the jet was turned over to the autopilot, which had been
programmed with the flight's course and altitude profile. It's standard
procedure to go onto autopilot early in the flight, because modern systems
can do a better job of flying the airplane at its maximum efficiency. It also
relieves a lot of crew stress, since the long climb to altitude and the cruise
segments are the most boring parts of the job. They did hand-fly the airplane
from time-to-time to keep their skills sharp, and to comply with their
company's regulations.
As they leveled-off at their assigned cruise altitude, and on course, they kept
an ear to Air Traffic Control (ATC), and monitored the systems. Every
thirty minutes, they would log their position, vital instrument readings, and
any comments in the airplane's trip log.
"Well, Scott," said Mark. "With today's winds, it looks like we'll get home
in time for you to make it to your son's soccer game. This will make how
many in a row you've managed to makeSix?"
"Yeah, Mark, I've been lucky with my trip bids this fall. I was able to get a
schedule that allowed me to be home by early afternoon on his game days. I
just love being able to watch him play. He doesn't say it, but Julie says he's
told her he's glad I've been able to come. Especially since that blizzard in
Chicago last winter made me miss his birthday. We both hated that."
Once at cruise altitude, it was possible to relax cockpit discipline a bit. Since
they had gotten beyond the initial critical phase of flight, takeoff and climb,
they could divert some attention to conversation. They would again enforce
strict discipline when they began descent.
An hour into the flight, Scott picked up the interphone and buzzed the galley.
"Sue, would you please bring some Cokes up front? We're starting to dry
out up here."
A few minutes later, both pilots heard a knock at the cockpit door and then
the sound of a key opening the latch. Sue Garrison entered with two cans of
Coke and cups of ice. She expertly filled the cups and placed them in the
cupholders next to the center console. (Yes, even the new modern passenger
jets have cupholders for the pilots' convenience.)
"Here you go, boys. Anything interesting ahead I should let the rest of the
crew know about?" asked Sue.
"No, Sue." replied Scott. "The weather ahead is all clear and smooth. We
should arrive about twenty minutes early."
"Sounds great! I'll let the passengers and the rest of the crew know." With
that, she returned to her cabin duties.
A short time before setdown, both pilots were paying close attention to ATC
in order to learn which routing they'd be taking into their destination. They
also took the time to get the latest weather information so there'd be no
surprises during approach and landing.
Mark was looking at some cloud formations off to the southwest, when he
saw a brilliant flash on the horizon. It was bright, but not enough to blind.
He blinked at the sight.
"Captain! Did you see." Scott heard Mark start to say when he felt the
strangest feeling inside himself, like he was being twisted-up and wrung out.
Then everything went black.
He awoke some time later in the passenger cabin. He looked around
groggily and noticed a lot of other people still unconscious. Some of the
passengers were getting out of their seats and starting to look around. A few
were looking at themselves and screaming. Others were just shouting.
He was shaking his head to clear it when he realized that he shouldn't be in
the cabin. He also started to become aware of the noises of the aircraft, and
that the floor was not level. He got up onto his feet and nearly fell over. He
looked down and saw that he was wearing impossibly high heels. He
looked a bit more closely.
He was wearing very tight jeans that outlined impossible hips. He didn't
have hips like those! Or a crotch that smooth! There was no bulge! Just the
?vee' of the crease where his legs joined his body. He also became aware of
the fact that he was looking at himself from between the twin mounds of a
woman's breasts!
No, he thought, this is impossible! Somehow, I've become a woman!
A little girl came up to him and shouted, "Give me back my body! What did
you do to me?"
Scott started to reply when he felt the jet start to nose down. His mind went
crystal clear as he commanded the little girl, "You just get into a seat and
buckle in. I've got to get to the cockpit. I'm the pilot!"
With that, he turned toward the cockpit and started to run down the aisle. He
almost twisted his ankle from the heels, so he stopped and took them off,
then continued his run. When he got to the door, he heard some shouting
from inside. He pounded on the door, and found he had long nails when he
broke one trying to get the door open. Whoever was in the cockpit was too
concerned with their own problems to answer. Scott looked around.
He saw Sue's body collapsed near the entry door. She had apparently sat
down on the crew bench when the event happened. He reached for the keys
on her belt and tried to pull them off. After several tries, he succeeded. He
found the cockpit doorkey and opened the door.
Two people were sitting in the pilots' seats just staring out the window as the
jet nosed down into the clouds.
"What the hell should I do?" shouted one.
"How the hell should I know. You're the pilot!" shouted the other. "I just
woke up and found myself here!"
"I'm no pilot, the same thing happened to me!" yelled the first one.
Scott saw that the two people in the pilots' seats were his and Mark's bodies,
but it was obvious that they'd switched with other people.
He tried to shout over the two in the pilots' seats, "Stop it. Something
happened and we all switched bodies. I don't know how, but I do know
that if you don't let me in one of those seats, we're going to crash. I'm the
pilot!"
"Yeah, sure, girlie," said one. "And I'm Bill Clinton."
"Look, I really AM the captain of this flight, and if you don't get out of those
seats right now, you'll be in the front-row watching a BC-427 spear the
ground." shouted Scott. "I've been switched, too, but I still remember how
to fly this plane."
After a bit of confusion, the two people in the pilot's bodies managed to
loosen the safety harnesses and get out of their seats. Scott squeezed past
them and climbed into the pilot's seat. To his consternation, he found that he
couldn't reach the rudder pedals, and that the instrument panel's glareshield
was too high. No time to adjust the seat. He quickly strapped in.
He first reduced power to the engines and started to ease back the control
column. It felt like he was pulling it through a vat of molasses. He didn't
remember the control pressures being this high, before. He grimly pulled
with both hands, and felt the jet start to respond. Slowly, the nose started to
come up and the speed start to bleed off.
As the nose passed through the horizon, Scott eased off the control pressures
and moved the throttles to hold their altitude. He reset the autopilot to hold
heading and altitude. It must have disconnected when one of people in his or
Mark's bodies accidentally leaned on the controls. The autopilot
automatically disconnects when fifteen pounds of pressure is applied to the
control column. That allows the pilots to quickly regain control if they hit
sudden turbulence without having to disconnect the autopilot manually.
As he was completing this chore, a boy of about eight years old entered the
cockpit, shouting, "Captain, I got here as fast as I could. You wouldn't
believe what's happened back in the cabin."
Scott looked back, and saw the boy saying this to the person in Scott's
body.
"Mark, I'm up here. That guy isn't me."
"Captain?" Mark said in amazement as he looked at Scott's new features.
"Wow, you're a babe!"
"Cut it out, Mark!" Scott said, cutting him off. "We've got ninety tons of
airplane and people to get back on the ground. Take your seat!"
Scott waited until Mark got back into the seat and was strapped in before he
adjusted his seat. He was now barely tall enough to reach the rudder pedals
when he had the seat adjusted forward and high enough to see out. He could
manage the plane. Just.
While Scott was adjusting his seat, Mark didn't bother. He was too small to
reach the pedals no matter how he adjusted the seat. He put on the radio
headset and listened to Air Traffic Control.
The frequency was bedlam. Flight after flight was calling in with an
emergency. It looked like theirs wasn't the only flight that was in trouble.
While he was listening, a harsh voice called out to clear the channel. ATC
was checking in!
"To all flights on this frequency! There has been a worldwide event.
Something has caused random switching between people. All flights please
hold at the nearest intersection. Because we've also been affected, please
use extreme caution. We may not be able to provide you with radar
separation. You'll have to keep your eyes open! We will be getting to you
as soon as possible. When I end transmission, each of you give your call
sign, wait for an acknowledgement, and then shu-----"
The transmission ended when another flight's call stepped on the controller's
call. After a few seconds of garbled noise, the call came in clear. A man's
voice, "Will somebody help us! The pilot's disappeared, and I'm in his
body. I don't know how to fly the plane and we're going down! Please will
somebody answer! I need some help!.."
Apparently the person didn't know that they had to release the mike button to
be able to receive. They kept calling for help while all of the other flights
were helpless to do anything. The caller kept at it until they heard him say,
"Oh, no, oh, God Mommy!" And then silence.
A pall came over the cockpit as the two pilots and the two others in the
cockpit realized that an airliner full of passengers had gone in. How many
other flights would have the same terrible ending?
Scott keyed his mike and said subdued voice, "Center, Trans-Western 623."
"Trans-Western 623, Center acknowledges." This voice, too, was subdued.
Slowly, somberly, all of the other flights on the frequency checked in.
There was some confusion as one or two flights stepped on each other's
transmissions, but the ones who checked in were all professionals. Their
first job was to get their plane down safely.
"All aircraft on this frequency ATC has had the same problems you've had.
Many of us are missing, so we're going to need your help. Locate the
airport nearest to you that can take your aircraft and land as soon as possible.
The major airports will be too crowded with airplanes and too under-staffed
to take normal arrivals. Go to visual flight rules as soon as possible. We
cannot provide radar coverage. As soon as you have safely landed, contact
your airline and report in. ATC will monitor, but you're on your own."
With this grim news, ATC signed off for the duration.
"Mark, pull out your charts and find me an airport! You two, get back in the
cabin and help restore order. Your appearance will lend you some authority.
Locate the flight attendants and help them. They've been trained for
emergencies!"
Mark pulled out his charts and soon located an airport. Bluefield Air Force
Base. A good choice, since an Air Force Base would not have much traffic,
compared to a normal airline airport. As a fighter and bomber base, the
runways were all long enough to take any aircraft.
"Ok, Mark, give me a heading so we can get this mother on the ground!"
growled Scott. It came out in a soft alto voice.
"Head zero-six-four, captain. It's forty miles."
"OK, descent checklist after I make an announcement."
Scott switched his mike to the cabin PA and said, "Ladies and gentlemen.
This is the captain speaking. I know I don't sound like the captain, but like
you, I have been changed with somebody else. I want to reassure you that
your captain and first officer are both safe and we are flying the airplane.
We've been ordered to land as soon as possible, so we're going to Bluefield
Air Force Base. We'll make a normal landing and we'll see if we can get
things straightened out once we're safely on the ground. Please take your
seats and fasten your seatbelts. We're not in any danger, so please remain
calm and listen to your flight attendants. Please cooperate with them, and
we'll all shortly be safely on the ground."
"Ok, Mark, descent checklist," commanded Scott as he retarded the throttles
to begin their descent. The throttles seemed to be farther away than he
expected them to be, and the switches on the ceiling were higher. When
they approached Bluefield AFB, both pilots kept a sharp lookout for other air
traffic, but didn't see any. They heard on the recorded traffic information
system that the instrument landing system was out, so they had to land
manually, instead of using the autoland function of the autopilot. They tried
to raise the base's tower, but got no results, so they flew a regular traffic
pattern and set up for landing.
After all of the excitement of the flight, though, the landing turned out to be
anticlimactic, except for the fact that Scott felt that the controls had become
much heavier. He hadn't yet realized that his new body was a lot less strong
than his old one.
As the jet rolled-out on the runway, several Hum-Vees drove out after it. As
the airliner pulled off the runway onto the taxi strip, Scott stopped the plane
and waited for the Hum-Vees.
From the lead Hum-Vee a man stood up and waved for the jet to follow him.
The truck turned around and drove to the parking ramp. A ground handler
guided Scott into a parking space. He then shut down the engines. He and
Mark completed the after-landing checklist and secured the controls.
They went to the cockpit door to see if they could help, but found a large,
burly man opening the door. The escape chute inflated and he started
herding the passengers out of the door, calling, "Jump and sit! Jump and
sit! Wait until the person in front of you is going before you go. Jump and
sit!" Apparently, this large man was one of the flight attendants.
Scott waited until the cabin was cleared. There were six people still in the
airplane, other than himself and Mark.
Scott looked around and asked, "Are you all Trans-Western?"
The large burly man said, "I'm Sue Garrison, and this is weird."
One by one, the other crewmembers checked in. Sue was the only woman
who had become a man, but Frank Jenkins was now a dark woman in her
50's.
"I'm Scott James, and this young lad is Mark," said Scott.
"Captain!" exclaimed Sue in her now bass voice, "you look about sixteen!"
"No wonder I'm so small. This body's not grown up yet!"
"I don't know captain," jibed Mark, "you look plenty grown up to me!"
"I'd better grow some more, I'm barely tall enough to fly this airplane, and I
don't want to quit flying!" retorted Scott.
The crew then took turns using the emergency slide to get out of the plane.
After Scott called in a report to Trans-Western, where things were just as
confused as everywhere else, he wound up giving a report to the base
commander, now in the body of a nineteen-year old recruit. Unauthorized
landings at military airfields are strongly frowned-upon, although
emergencies allow a lot of slack in the regulations. The day ended when a
news truck drove up and he gave an interview about what happened on the
flight.
That's when the crew learned that about ninety-percent of the world's
population had apparently changed bodies. It occurred shortly after
something happened in the western desert. Mark mentioned the flash he'd
seen shortly before everybody blacked out. It was a likely connection.
When Scott called home, he found that his wife had been shopping, and had
swapped bodies with her best friend. His son had swapped bodies with that
friend's daughter, who was about the same age as his son. At least his wife
was still a woman, and his son was young enough to adapt to the change.
He didn't know how well he'd handle his change.
At the end of the day, Scott finally was able to take stock of the change he'd
gone through. With all of the excitement and adrenaline of the emergency,
and all of the reports he had to make, he'd not had the chance to look at
himself. He got his first real awareness when he started to enter the Men's
room in Base Operations.
"Hey, Miss!" shouted out an airman, "That's the Men's room! The ladies' is
over there!"
"Uh, thanks! I guess I'm still shaken up."
In the ladies' room, Scott looked in the mirror and just stared at his new self.
He was now about sixteen or seventeen years old, with light brown hair cut
in an attractive bob. His face was pretty, but nothing really special. The
body went with the face, and was in excellent shape. His waist was very
narrow, and flared into wide hips, with that extremely attractive flatness
across the front that curved smoothly away between his legs. His breasts
were of average size, but were high and prominent. Probably because of the
body's youth, since they hadn't had time to start sagging.
He was dressed in very tight denims with athletic socks and sneaks, and was
wearing a thin knit top that had those short-short sleeves that accented his
long, slim arms. He noticed the outlines of a bra beneath his top. Funny, he
thought, through all this, I really didn't feel it. I guess it's been all the
excitement.
His final evaluation of his new self was that he was pretty. With proper
makeup and a bit more maturity in the features, while not a stunner, that
person would be very attractiveespecially if the body was kept in shape. If
I'm in this body very long, he thought, I'll have to give some thought to
keeping it that way.
No matter what, though, he was a pilot, and would fight to keep flying.
After all, he thought, flying is in my brain, not my body. And this body is
more fit and probably has a better reaction time than my old one. I think I'll
make it. I know I will!
(fin)
Vera
- 21.03.2020
- 22
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