Nandita To Nandini
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Half And Half free porn video
HALF AND HALF
By T.R. Sias
Part One
Roger Harmon was glad to get away for a few days from the stress of
being a stockbroker. Luckily, a friend at the office had arranged a weekend
vacation on the Cape, free of charge, for the 32-year-old bachelor, and Roger
didn't ask too many questions. The friend had an older relative who owned a
beach house - a stone's throw from the water - and that seemed just right to
Roger, private enough to relax a good long time before coming back to the
grind at the office.
Better yet, when Roger arrived, he found the beach house was isolated -
no other houses were in view - and practically right on the ocean's edge.
Moreover, his host, an elderly man of Romanian descent, told him to think of
the house as his own while he was a guest, and that the host would not
bother him a whit - to just do as he pleased, to come and go whenever he
wanted.
Early the next morning, Roger couldn't wait to get out on the beach and
into the ocean. Searching through his bag, he discovered he had forgotten to
bring his bathing suit, but no matter. At that hour in the morning he thought
he might be able to swim nude, otherwise he could swim in his cargo shorts.
No big deal.
Speaking to his host briefly before the older man went out to do some bird
watching, Roger asked him if by chance there was an extra bathing suit in the
house. The old man thought for a minute, a twinkle in his eye. "Afraid not,"
he said before leaving, and that was that. Roger gulped down some coffee
and prepared to strip naked and try for a nude swim. Unfortunately, just as
he was to go out the door, a group of early bird tourists came walking down
the beach toward the house. To Roger's dismay the tourists, two men and
two women, plunked down, spreading their towels on the sand directly in
front of the beach house.
"Damn ! " Roger swore. There he was stark naked, ready to plunge in the
water, and wouldn't you know, people show up and ruin it. Hastily, Roger
retreated to his bedroom and looked hurriedly through the drawers of the one
chest he found in the room. Nothing. He thought for a minute, and then
walked into what he thought was his host's bedroom. The drawers in the
room seemed to contain nothing promising, but hanging in the closet he
spotted a woman's two-piece bathing suit. It was a plain navy blue, and
looked like an older style, possibly for a woman in her fifties or sixties.
Roger imagined the bottom of the suit might fit him and would not look too
out of place if no one looked closely. Quickly he removed the bottom of the
suit from the hanger and stepped into it.
The suit was a lot tighter than Roger at first thought it would be, and he
cursed at the pressure of the suit on his genitals, remembering at the same
time with faint amusement the old joke about Grand Central Station not
having any ballroom. In fact, the borrowed suit was so tight it was almost too
painful to move around in, and Roger thought he might take it off and put on
his cargo shorts instead. He tugged several times at the suit in an attempt to
slip it off his body, but unable to get his fingers down inside the waist, he
gave up and said "Nahh, screw it!" He put on his cargo shorts over the suit
and, grabbing a towel, walked out the door.
As it turned out, the tourists ignored Roger as he walked toward the
water. He spread his towel on the sand a short distance away from them,
slipped out of his shorts and ran into the water. The shock of plunging into
the cold water took his mind off the pain of trying to run in the tight bathing
suit, but after a few laps swimming parallel to the shore, he felt the pain go
away; his testicles no longer had that achy feeling. In fact, the suit began to
feel quite snug and comfortable in the groin area. Roger imagined it must
have been the cold water numbing his body, and he began to swim even more
strenuously than before, enjoying the feel of the water moving over his body.
Roger must have been in the water about 15 minutes, when he decided to
step out and do some sunbathing. It was still morning, and he might not get
such a bad burn his first day on the beach if he got it done early enough.
Coming up out of the water, he almost stumbled. His balance somehow
didn't feel right. Walking a few paces toward his towel, it seemed as if his
legs were too short and that his knees kept knocking. He noticed the tourists
looking over at him oddly. Actually, Roger thought, they were downright
staring at him, holding their downturned palms over their eyes to shade them
from the sun. How rude, he thought, and then he remembered the odd
bathing suit he was wearing, and that they must have recognized it as a
woman's suit. "So what!" he bitched at himself. "It can't be that weird
looking."
Sitting down on his towel, he made up his mind to stare back at the
tourists, especially the woman closest to him. Not a bad figure, he thought,
noticing that her flared shorts revealed she had no underpants beneath them.
The glimpse of beaver gave him a hot flash in his groin, and he felt the
stirring of what he thought was an erection. "Uh-oh," he thought, not
wanting the tourists to see him with a raging hard on. He glanced down at
himself, but could see no give-away bulge. "Strange," he thought. It felt like
he had a minor erection building, but could see no evidence of it. "This has
got to be a really tight suit," he said to himself.
Turning to lie on his stomach, Roger felt as if his hips suddenly weighed a
ton. They also seemed looser, flabbier. He thought that he must be terribly
out of shape, and attributed it to exhaustion from the 15 minutes of intensive
swimming. Settling into the towel, Roger gently pressed his groin into a
bump in the sand underneath it. The pressing gave him a pleasurable feeling
in his crotch, but he could not feel an erection. He thought it must have been
his imagination he was getting hard, but still, it felt good to press himself
against the bump. As he lay on the towel, he imagined he was screwing the
woman who had flashed him, and he imagined his penis slowly grinding in
and out of her pussy.
Suddenly the thought occurred to Roger what the woman would be
feeling if this were actually happening to her. What does it feel like to her, he
wondered, to have my erect penis ramming in and out of her, deeper and
deeper with each thrust? The thought gave him a pleasurable tingle in his
groin, a feeling that he could not recall experiencing before. It felt, too, as if
a trickle of sweat were uncontrollably leaking out of him between his legs,
from just where, he couldn't be sure, but the thought of his own penis
entering his own body only seemed to increase the feeling of wetness. Soon
he was enjoying this new feeling immensely, not wanting it ever to stop. He
ground himself into the towel, slowly and steadily, hoping the people lying
near him noticed nothing unusual.
As Roger felt an orgasm building within him, he turned and sat up
abruptly, fearing he might cry out if overpowered by the new sensation. The
woman was still watching him with a puzzled expression, and the other three
turned to look as well when he stood up to put his cargo shorts back on. For
some reason the shorts were difficult to put on. As a matter of fact Roger was
barely able to get them past his hips, which confounded him. "My hips ARE
bigger. Damn it! " he swore under his breath. "But how in the hell?" He was
embarrassed by his fumbling and nearly lost his balance. Once over his hips,
the shorts were way too loose around his waist and hung limply. Neither did
they fit well around his behind, which seemed squashed in them. The whole
thing made no sense to Roger.
Roger threw the towel over his shoulder and started to walk toward the
beach house. Once again, he felt knock-kneed and short-legged. After a few
steps he found that shortening his stride and allowing his hips to sway back
and forth slightly made walking in the sand much easier. He could hear the
tourists laughing behind him as he entered the house and shut the door.
"My dear man," what's happened to you," Roger's host asked the
moment he walked inside.
"What do you mean?" Roger replied, knowing full well there was indeed
something out of whack with him. "You mean these dumb hips?" he asked
meekly.
"Your hips? The entire lower half of your body!" said his host. "I suggest
you go into the bathroom and take a good look at yourself."
About to panic, Roger quickly walked into the bathroom and closed the
door. He looked at himself in the mirror on the medicine chest and saw
nothing unusual, except that the mirror seemed a little higher on the wall.
Removing the cargo shorts, he looked at his lower body and legs. Yes, the
hips were very broad, he thought, and his stomach a lot flatter than he was
used to. More than that, all his body hair seemed to have disappeared. He ran
his hand down over his groin and shuddered. He could feel the mound where
his genitals were, but the mound seemed hard and smooth to his touch.
Furthermore, there seemed to be an ass crack below it where there should
have been more of a bulge.
Fearing something awful might have happened, Roger struggled to remove
the bathing suit. It took some doing, but once free of the thing, he stared at
himself in a state of shock. Where his penis had once been was a thatch of
thick, brown, curly hair that seemed unusually fluffy and concentrated. "Like
a girl," he thought, running his fingers over it lightly in amazement. Digging
down below the bush with his fingers, he encountered a fleshy furrow of
skin where his testicles used to be. Probing deeper inside the furrow and the
moist folds of skin surrounding it, he encountered something like a
passageway that felt slick and very warm to his fingertips. To his surprise it
gave him intense pleasure to be examining it. "Ohhhh!" he moaned
ecstatically. He raised his fingers to his nose to smell them absently. "Jeez!"
he exclaimed. "I have a cunt. Just like a girl. A real cunt, juicy and
everything. How can it be?"
Dazed, Roger sat down on the toilet to think about his predicament. It
occurred to him his host might have an explanation. And what about the
damned bathing suit? He picked it up off the floor and examined it. There
seemed to be nothing unusual about it. He stood up and turned to lift the lid
and piss, not realizing it might be impossible in his present condition.
Expressing disgust, he turned to sit back down, again having to gyrate his
hips slightly to lower himself without falling.
The pee came out of him in a gush, and he thought how different it was
that he didn't have to direct the flow of urine but just let it come out as it
wanted to. Afterward he felt very wet, and looking down, saw that the
outside of his cunt was dripping with urine. Do women have to shower every
time they go pee, he wondered? Finally, he took what seemed to him an
inordinate amount of toilet paper to dry himself to his satisfaction.
Remembering his jockey undershorts were in his bedroom where he left
them when he stripped, he struggled again with the cargo shorts so as to be at
least decent when confronting his host.
"Now tell me," he said to his host, holding up the bathing suit bottom.
"What is this all about?"
His host sat sipping an espresso coffee, nodding his head at his guest.
"Why did you not put on the top?" he asked Roger. "We expected you would
put on the entire suit."
Suddenly it dawned on Roger that his friend at the office must know of
his cross dressing, and he had walked into a setup. "Very funny, but for your
information, I never go out in public. Are you telling me if I had worn the top
, the rest of me would be changed? What a farce! How do I change back?
That's what I want to know."
"There's no going back," his host said. "You have a choice to remain as
you are, or put on the top of the bathing suit and go back in the ocean. It
might be better for you to become a complete woman. But you can probably
still live your life as a man the way you are. Nobody has to know the bottom
half of your body is female."
Roger thought for a minute. "Why did you do this to me in the first
place? Is it some joke, or do you do this to every man who comes here? I
don't know what I'm gonna do, if you want the truth. I have a job and a girl
friend, and lots of other friends, and my mom, and my dad . . ."
His host nodded. "We are Roma, better known as Gypsies to you. The
suit you wore was my sister's. You are what we call a Gadjo, a non-Gypsy.
Years ago my sister fell in love with a Gadjo. He got her pregnant and
deserted her. Before she died of the shame, she swore revenge on a Gadjo,
any Gadjo, to get even, and cast a spell on the bathing suit."
"So," Roger said, " whatever dumb non-Gypsy wears the suit and goes
into the ocean with it on becomes a woman. Is that all?"
"It was my sister's hope that the Gadjo would then become pregnant and
go through her shame," his host said.
" Ha," Roger laughed. "Who is going to want to get me pregnant when I
am a man from the waist up? I think I'll just stay this way and fool you all."
"Perhaps," said his host, "But suit yourself. What's done is done. But
remember one thing. Once you get pregnant, the spell is broken. You cannot
then come back here and put the top on and become a complete woman. You
will be stuck forever as you are."
End of Part One
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