Belle
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Taco Belle free porn video
Author's Note: This story is dedicated to my very dear friend, Chilli
TNG, who, besides being my oldest and dearest online friend, is a far, far
better author than I am. I would also like to apologize and thank Carrie
Gore and Steve Zink for "borrowing" their personas for this story. I mean
no disrespect, and any actions/thoughts/words in this story are purely
fictional and purely my own.
Taco Belle
By Janice Dreamer
Copyright © 1999
I stared at my email window. I'd been dreading this moment for some
time. But I knew it was coming. It *had* to come? eventually. Ever since
I'd written the story, I knew it was going to be posted. Now I was finally
looking at it. Everyone who used to know me as an online author could
now read all about my ultimate humiliation.
* * * * * * * * * *
Subj: Fwd: New Story
Date: 8/23/99 5:52:54 PM Eastern Daylight Time
From: [email protected]
Sender: [email protected]
Reply-to: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Hello everyone! I'm posting this for a very dear friend, Taco TNG, who
unfortunately has informed me that she is retiring from writing stories
for FictionMania. I'm sure we'll all miss her wonderful stories. But
everyone must pursue her dreams. :) So, without further ado, I give you
Taco's final tale:
For Whom the Cock Crows
By Taco TNG (as told to Nancy Sleeper)
Why am I writing this? A cautionary tale, perhaps? Confession? A vain
hope that someone who can help stumbles upon it?
I don't know.
But I feel I have to write it and post it.
Okay, it's more than that. To be truthful, I've been *ordered* to tell this
story. Completely and truthfully. I've been assured I'll regret it if I
don't tell the full unembellished truth. Truthful? Ha! That's something I
wished I'd been a long time ago. If I had, I wouldn't be in this
predicament now. Oh well, what can the truth hurt at this stage? It's my
swan song as an internet author, anyway. I won't be posting any more
after this one.
It all started one lunch hour as I was sitting in my cubicle -- well, it's
actually an "angle" rather than a complete cubicle, since I only have two
walls. But two walls are better than none, which is how many I had when
I first started working in that office. The day I finally got my two walls,
it was almost like getting a window office. Well, not really, but it *was*
better than working in the "bullpen". I finally had a little bit of privacy
and I could now use my lunch hours to work on my erotic stories.
So there I was, feeling rather secure now that I had walls at my back so
that my coworkers couldn't come skulking up behind me and read my
screen over my shoulder. I was just slipping in a quick note to a fellow
author and sometime cheerleader of mine, Nancy Sleeper. At least *I*
thought she was a pretty great author, even if she never agreed with me.
She was always worried that the stories she turned out were full of B&D
and really outlandish transformations.
She helped out with a few edits of some of my stories before I posted
them. She always claimed her contributions were silly stuff. She said the
kind of help she provided wasn't even as good as spell-check and
grammar-check in my word processor. But I really appreciated her input,
and her heart seemed to be in the right place. I knew I could always
count on her for an optimistic pep talk whenever I was feeling down.
And she thought my own stories were great, even when she claimed her
work was utterly execrable dreck. You might say I was her biggest fan.
She always laughed at that one, and said I was probably her *only* fan.
But I always tried to convince her of her own worth as a writer.
Heck, once, to boost her ego, I even sent my recommendation to a
British tg author, Geri Core, to suggest she interview Nancy as a tg
author for her website. Geri had a great website; it was quite brilliant,
actually, especially the idea of having interviews of tg authors and little
tidbits of gossip about our tight-knit little group of writers and fans. I
guess I wanted to give Nancy an ego boost. I'm a sweet guy like that. Or
I thought I was being sweet at the time. But Nancy acted very
embarrassed when she heard about what I'd done. She said she thought
there were many other authors more worthy of an interview than herself.
She even went so far as to tell me that she'd "get me" for recommending
her without first checking with her. Whatever that meant.
Anyway. Where was I? Oh, yes. There I was on my lunch break, typing
away at a message to Nancy while considering in the back of my mind
how I should start my latest story. I was just trying to come up with the
properly effusive adjectives to describe her latest masterpiece when I
heard a male voice coming from directly behind me.
"Holy shit! I'd never have guessed that was YOU, Peter! Never in a
million years. I mean you've always seemed so? *normal*!"
I whipped my head around and saw a colleague of mine, "Big" Steve
from Accounting. Steve's nickname was well deserved. His head and a
good bit of his torso towered above the walls of my cubicle, as he was 6'
8" tall in his bare feet. I was a big man myself, and used to looking down
on people, but Steve was the only person in the office bigger than me. I
should have realized he could look comfortably over the top of my walls
and read what was on my screen. How could I have allowed myself to be
lulled into a false sense of security by two stupid partitions that weren't
even 6 feet high?
I immediately hit the minimize button on my AOL window to hide the
letter I was composing to Nancy. "Ummm? hey, Big Guy, how's it goin',
Steve?" I stammered out, trying to sound cool and calm.
Steve smiled a hugely evil grin. He shook his head slowly back and forth
and made a sort of tsk-tsk sound. "Well, well, well. Petey, I never, ever
would have believed that you, of all people -- *you*, big strong man's
man that you are -- were the internet porn author Taco TNG! Wow, that
is just too rich for words!"
I felt myself growing hot with embarrassment. I imagined Steve's face
taking on a pink tinge from the rosy light reflected off my blush. How
the hell was I going to get out of this? I stood up to further conceal my
computer screen from Steve's gaze and turned to face him as he strolled
around the edge of the partition and entered my cube proper.
"S - sorry? I - I - I don't know what you're talking about, Steve," I tried
playing dumb.
Steve shook his head. "No, you can't squirm out of this that easily, Pete.
Or should I say, Taco? Can you imagine what everyone in the office is
going to think when they find *this* juicy tidbit of gossip in their
email?"
I stuck to my guns, trying to out-brazen him. "Sorry Steve. You must
have the wrong guy."
"Oh come on! I'm positive there's only one '[email protected]' posting
weird sex-change porno stories to the internet. Suddenly it all makes
sense to me, how furtive you always are at lunch while tippy-tapping
away at your computer. I even just realized where you got the idea for
your pen name -- from winning the annual company picnic cook-off with
your 'world famous taco' recipe."
I shook my head furiously in denial. "You've got to be mistaken, Steve.
I've never posted any erotic stories on the internet, with or without weird
sex changes."
Oh, if only I'd just told the truth back then!
Steve appeared to be lost in thought for a moment, as though considering
what to do next, then his face lit up as he obviously made a decision. I
could almost see the light bulb go off over his head. His smile grew
wider and even more evil for a brief moment before he got this really
weird look on his face. He seemed to be concentrating intensely on
something. He mumbled a few words under his breath and made some
wavy sort of gestures in the air in front of him. Then his face returned to
normal and he smiled his evil smile.
"Now we'll see if you're telling the truth or not, Taco," he said
enigmatically. "Just like another Peter a long time ago, I predict you'll
deny the truth three times as the cock crows."
What the hell kind of mumbo-jumbo was Steve spouting about? This
was all becoming just so surreal.
"Oh, stop being an ass! Of course I'm telling the truth!" I lied. My voice
had risen embarrassingly, like a petulant child's throwing a tantrum.
"And stop calling me Taco!"
Suddenly, the strangest thing happened. No sooner had the denial passed
my lips than the quiet of the office was pierced by the sound of a rooster
"crowing" -- which was odd enough since we were on the 17th floor in
downtown Manhattan. But the oddest part was that I could almost swear
that I heard the sound coming from my own crotch!
I felt a tingling sensation course through my body. It was as though I'd
gotten a static shock over every inch of my skin. Then my perspective
seemed to shift. I had been looking slightly up at Steve, but suddenly I
had to look higher up? and even higher up! Much more than I should
have had to. He was only two inches taller than me? or he had been. But
now he seemed to have grown into a giant. He was at least a foot taller
than I was now.
I looked around me and realized that it was me who had changed, not
Steve. The partitions of my cubicle were now taller than my head level.
What the hell was happening here? I staggered a bit, feeling
overwhelmed, and put out my hand to steady myself against my desk.
But I froze in mid-movement, my arm only partially extended towards
the desk, and stared in horror at my arm. My hand was muffled inside the
sleeve of my suit jacket. It had been a rather cheap suit to begin with,
something I picked up off the rack at Big Tony's Big and Tall Guy
Discount Store, and it never fit me quite right in the sleeves. But that was
because they were too short for my 42 inch gorilla arms. Now, the
sleeves were at least 5 inches too long!
I looked down at myself and was amazed to see my clothes hanging
limply on me. I thought how I must have looked like a little boy playing
dress-up in his father's clothing. My suit jacket was a tent. The hem of
my trouser legs formed a puddle of fabric around my feet. My shoes felt
huge on my feet, as though I were standing in two canoes. The only thing
that prevented my pants from falling down around my ankles was the
slight friction of the fabric against my body. I realized they were slowly
slipping down on my hips and would soon slide down all the way, so I
grabbed the front waistband in one hand and held them up awkwardly. I
must have lost over a hundred pounds nearly instantaneously!
Steve smiled down at me with that air of superiority he'd assumed since
he found out my secret.
"Well, Taco, how's it feel looking at the world from a different angle?"
he asked.
I didn't know what was happening. I couldn't believe it *was* happening.
It had to be some kind of a dream or hallucination. Even with the
evidence of my own senses to convince me that something really weird
was going on, I still refused to acknowledge the truth. Oh, how I wished
I had!
"I don't know what the hell is going on here, but you better stop calling
me Taco. I am NOT some porno author who calls himself Taco TNG!" I
said in a strangely high pitched voice.
Steve just shrugged his shoulders and smiled his evil grin. "Oh, well,
Peter, you've only yourself to blame."
I heard that rooster in my trousers crowing again! What kind of tricks
was Steve playing here? The strange tingling sensation passed through
my body again. What now? The first thing I noticed was that I now had
long, straight hair spilling down from my head. I ran my hand over my
scalp and felt hair everywhere, even in the spots at my temples and
crown where it had been growing thin of late. Thin, hell, I thought
ruefully, I'd been darn near bald! I grabbed a handful of hair and held it
up, marveling at its silky soft texture. Instead of the salt and pepper
mousey brown and gray I had grown resigned to, my hair was now a rich
jet black that was so dark it was almost blue, and it shone with deep
healthy highlights. It seemed long enough to reach the middle of my
back. I looked down at myself and noticed I appeared even thinner, more
frail, than just moments ago. And, oh no! Was that a modest bulge
pushing outwards from my chest? Had I grown a pair of? of? breasts?
Afraid to even touch my own chest for fear of what I'd discover, I slowly
raised my eyes up to meet Steve's, a stricken look on my face.
"So, Taco," he asked in his condescending voice, "Are you ready to
acknowledge what's been happening to you? Does the? 'style' of the
changes remind you of anyone's stories you might have read on the
internet? Say at that website where you post your own little sex-change
fantasies?"
I know I really shouldn't have done it. I mean, I *really* shouldn't have.
But I simply couldn't help myself. I felt anger boiling up inside me. Who
the hell did Steve think he was, anyway?! It was an almost automatic
reaction when I flared up at him in denial. The last denial I'd ever make.
"Acknowledge what? For the last time, I'm not some pervert called Taco!
I don't read sex-change web porno! I'm normal, I tell you! You want me
to acknowledge something? Well acknowledge *this*, you asshole!" I
pulled back my arm and let fly a roundhouse right aimed at his smirking
face, but my fist passed inches beneath his jaw. For, just as I had swung
my punch, I heard that damned rooster crowing and I felt myself rapidly
shrinking down, even shorter than I'd been just moments before.
In my exertions, I'd lost my hold on the waistband of my pants and they
slipped down around my ankles. But I was hardly exposing myself since
my suit jacket hem now reached down below my knees! I stumbled a
little, hampered by my immensely oversized pants, but solved that
problem by simply stepping out of my shoes, pants and underwear. Now
I stood, garbed in a suit jacket and shirt that were tent-like on my
miniscule body, and black dress socks, now quite loose and gathering at
my ankles. I felt the cool air conditioned air swirling about my naked
legs and even naked-er feeling crotch.
Steve had a satisfied smile on his face. He towered over me. I guessed
my height was now only about 5 feet tall, perhaps even a bit less. And I
probably weighed less than a hundred pounds now. Looking up at him, I
felt tiny and weak and? strangely? aroused. Incongruously for a man as
huge as he was, he emitted a sound that was surprisingly girlish. I will
always remember that sound. I felt horrified recognition as soon as I
heard it. It can only be described as a combination smirk and giggle? a?
"smirgle"!
"Oh my God!" I whispered, not wanting to believe what I now knew to
be true. "Nancy? Is that *you*?"
Steve -- or Nancy, actually -- nodded his head. "Yepper, sure is, Taco!"
"But? how? I mean, I thought you were? ???" I asked in total confusion.
Nancy shook his head slowly with the attitude of a patient teacher
instructing a rather dim child. "Oh, this isn't my real body, Taco. I've
just borrowed it for this occasion. Seems all my web surfing finally paid
off when I visited the 1313th magick website my hotbot search turned
up. Persistence really does pay off!"
I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. "Wow! I can't believe this!
Well, you've had your fun; now you can change me back," I said.
Nancy's face slowly assumed its evilest grin yet. "Sorry, Taco, but the
spell I used on you is a permanent one. It has a few other side effects too,
I'm afraid. Like you'll now discover you have an uncontrollable urge to
obey this body I'm currently wearing. Which was the 'payment' I
arranged with Steve for letting me swap with him temporarily. I'm afraid
Steve has some quite nasty plans for you, Taco."
I stared up at her -- him! -- horrified. I somehow sensed that she spoke
the truth. I felt myself very attracted -- compellingly so! -- to this great
huge brute of a male. "But why?" I asked.
"Because you ratted me out to Geri!" she hurled back at me with
considerable vehemence. "You know how self-conscious I am about
being in the spotlight, and how I've always refused your suggestions that
I do an author's chat on FictionMania. What makes you think I'd be any
*less* embarrassed to do an interview for Geri's website?"
I shook my head. "But I was only trying to help! I swear! If I'd known
you were serious, I *never* would have suggested the interview to Geri!
Not without checking with you first! Please change me back, Nancy.
Please?"
"Sorry, Taco, but it's out of my hands. I've agreed to the interview and
now you have to live with your fate. Have fun, girlfriend!"
Steve then made a series of odd gestures and his face went slack for a
moment. Then it became animated again. Only this time, I knew it was a
different person inside that wonderfully sexy body.
"Steve? Is that really you now?" I asked, somewhat tentatively.
He smiled. He leered. He practically drooled. "Yep, I'm back in control
now, Taco. And I must say, Nancy really did a wonderful job on your
transformation! I can hardly wait to see what you look like in a
catwoman costume!"
...just the beginning -- for Peta!
* * * * * * * *
I closed the email window and sighed. Nancy had posted the story
exactly as I'd written it. Exactly as she'd ordered me to write it. Not even
a punctuation mark had been changed. How very strange that it was all
true.
That was all many days ago. My life has become quite different now. I
don't write stories anymore. Now that Nancy's made good on her threat
to post this one, I really don't have anything more to write about. I'm
living one of my own fantasies now. Well, actually I suppose I'm living
one of *Nancy's* fantasies, considering how she made me look and how
she stuck in that obedience clause on her spell. She always did lean
towards the B&D stuff. It's not so bad, actually. In fact, now that I'm
stuck as Peta, I really like some of the games Steve comes up with for us
to play in bed. He's really quite amazing when it comes to understanding
my needs. And yes, I have rather strong needs now. And only he can
satisfy them.
We were married just last Saturday. It was quite a traditional ceremony.
Nancy flew in to be my maid of honor. I almost asked her if she flew
commercial or came on her broomstick. But I came to my senses before I
goofed that badly. Who knows how I'd have ended up then?
I had a lovely white gown, beaded with seed pearls, even though I wasn't
technically entitled to wear white for my wedding. Not after that first
wonderful night at Steve's place -- or all the other nights since then.
When Nancy was helping me into my gown I paused to consider my
reflection. She hadn't really made me over into my fantasy woman. Far
from it. I was more her own warped idea of the perfect female. Tiny,
slight of build, and only modestly endowed. I had a cute, pixie-ish face,
but overall I was more waifish than womanly. I don't think I looked like
Steve's original idea of the perfect woman either. But he was awfully
happy with me the way I was. I suspect Nancy used a bit of her magick
to alter Steve's tastes when she borrowed his body.
I had to stop my daydreaming because I heard the sounds of the wedding
march thrumming from the church organ. With a strange mixture of
regret and happy anticipation I picked up my bouquet and made my walk
down the aisle.
I have to admit, it was the happiest moment of my life when the minister
proclaimed to the assembled congregation: "I now pronounce you
Husband and Wife. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you Mr. and Mrs.
Steve Sink!"
The end?
Mara
- 23.12.2022
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