IrreFutable Changes
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Small Changes free porn video
Small Changes
by X_Zero_23
Alfonso Dukamon hated A. Franky Midgill with a passion. He had only known of
his existence for five short months, but during those months he had looked at
the young man with nothing but loathing. Both were trumpeters in the Weldon
City orchestra. An inconsequential little assemblage to be sure, but it
played very large in the life of Mr. Dukamon. It was in fact the most
important thing in his life.
Al had started out in life with such promise, and an I.Q. that read off the
scale. He had quickly skipped from grade to grade, entering MIT at the age of
16, where he had quickly outshone even the brightest there. In the five years
he spent there, it was estimated that he had absorbed more then four people
put together.
No doubt about it, he was one sharp cookie. Too bad that while his I.Q. was
stratospheric, his E.Q., or Emotional Quotient, took a dive in the other
direction. In other words Alfonso couldn't get along with nobody, nohow
noway!
In the five years he spent at MIT he had brought two professor to nervous
breakdowns and, if not for his impressive six foot, four inch 280 pound
frame, would have been beaten up any number of times.
On graduation, an event that was followed by a near riotous party on the part
of the faculty, Al found it more then a little hard to find work. Yes, the
recruiters had been drawn to this record like flies. However after
interviewing him, company after company had passed--some had run. So for the
next three years, Alfonso moved from job to job never being able to say more
then a month or two at any. Until at last by some quirk of fate Alfonso was
able to find himself as a member of the Weldon City philharmonic. Al it
seemed did have one thing that calmed him. The trumpet. He had picked up this
talent in-between inventing two new forms of Trans-dimensional physics, and
learning every computer language known. For some reason, some non-arrogant
part of himself was able to get enough control of his personality to become
and remain a trumpet player with this minor orchestra.
In his first three years there he had, through the use of his love of music,
overcome his hate of almost everything else. He was by the time Frank showed
up a fairly large (if still unloved) fish in a distinctively small pond. He
had moved up until he was ready to take his place as first trumpet. Ready
until the ghastly boom was lowered--that a brilliant, vastly more experienced
and talented trumpeter would be coming in to fill that spot.
Surprisingly enough Al was able to keep himself under control. Inside he was
white hot with rage. Al kept himself under control because he had an ace up
his sleeve. Playing the trumpet in a minor orchestra was not the only thing
that Alfonso had been occupying himself with for the last three years. He had
also been putting the vast amount of knowledge he had to a most particular
use.
Alfonso Dukamon, you see, had been able to decipher the mathematical code
that underlies what what we call reality. Not only that, he further believed
that he could change it.
For the next five months after the arrival of the hated Franky, the only
things that Al thought about and worked at were his music and his work on
what he had started to call The Interface.
At the end of those five months, he now sat before it in his basement. The
bizarre conglomerate of hardware looked like a twisted offspring of a
pipe-organ, satellite relay station and a tasteless hunk of art deco.
The most recognizable part of the monstrosity was a computer that bulged out
of a part of it. Al stepped up to the machine and turned it on. He had not
tried the thing due to his arrogance, which would not let him doubt himself.
His plan was to overwrite the existence of his rival and place himself in his
situation as lead trumpeter, and after that--who knew? After that wrong had
been set right, there would be a lot of changes in the world, but first would
be the setting to rights the one that had lived in his head for the last five
months.
The Interface was now giving off a satisfying hum, and it's surface was alive
with shifting rainbow globules that rose and fell back into it as if the
metal hull were a lake and they were it's glowing, misshapen fish. And he had
not even fully engaged the thing! Throwing the final set of toggles, Al
brought it fully to life. The effect took him by surprise. Where before the
Interface had been awash in strange multi-colored light, turned to full power
it now became a living nova of them.
Al jumped back, and the world within 4 feet of the Interface had the
consistency of Jell-O caught in an earthquake, about 7.4 on the Richter scale
Al guessed.
Standing outside the four foot wall of rippling reality Alfonso could feel
himself being buffeted by the force of the Interface. His overweening ego
took this not as a sign to beware, but only as proof that not only would his
creation succed, but succeed even more grandly then he had anticipated.
Taking a deep breath he stepped into the multi-chromic chaos that enveloped
his Interface. Within the four-foot nimbus things only got worse, it took
what seemed like 10 minutes to reach the keyboard, and having reached it, he
found himself buffeted and shaken by the still warping fief in which stood.
His plan had been to type in a lengthy command detailing what should happen
regarding the fixation of his hated rivel and himself.
He now knew this would be impossible--barely able to stand in the Interface's
corona he hastily typed in "I become A. Franky Medgill and lead trumpet."
After three tries he was able to hit the send command. There was a flash and
a sound like a plunger the size of the average domed stadium being unstuck
from a vinyl couch the size Texas.
Alfonso was tossed backwards by the last of the warp para-mutations that he
was experiencing, and landed sprawling on his back. Gasping in a much needed
breath he hauled himself to his feet.
The basement was in disarray, with most of the contents having been knocked
about by the force relased by the Interface, which now set silent, the main
body having turned itself off once it's orders had been broadcast. Only the
computer was still active and glowing.
Alfonso started to walk over to the computer to see what the screen now read,
but as soon as this thought came to him he felt a profound throb move through
the whole of his body. "It's starting to work!" he shouted in triumph and
glee.
Forgetting about what the computer said he staggered to a corner of the
basement where he had a full length mirror bolted to the wall. He looked to
see if any changes had taken place, all the while imagining the look on
Franky's face as the forces started to wipe him out of existence.
As he stood looking his clothing melted off of him like cotton candy under a
hard rain. Another, stronger throb movied through his body and he saw himself
visibly shrink from his 6' 4" hieght by at least 6 inchs. "Good enough" he
thought to himself, "Midgill is only about 5'10" this is just as it should
be." Another throb passed through his body and a foot dropped from Al's frame
as well as what looked like close to 80 or 90 pounds. "No! This is all
wrong!" The perplexed man said "This is too much." As he made that
proclamation outloud his voice cracked, by the end of the sentence `much'
came out in a high piping squeak.
Deciding it was indeed time to check the computer. Al was stopped from this
as a cascade of throbs hit him. Mute he watched his reflection as the changes
now pored over him. Still more he shrank. Was he getting younger? He still
looked the same age. At last he stopped in his downward spiral--he could not
have been more then four feel he thought-- then the throbbing increased three
fold. Blinded with pain, Alfonso stood shuddering, almost as much from fear
as from pain. At last it ended.
Opening his eyes Al saw a form that was completely changed from his old self.
Before him stood a woman approximately 3 feet 10 inches tall, and she
appeared to be about 25 years of age and had coppery red hair in place of the
dull brown that Al had formerly possessed. While small, her breasts were
large for a woman her size, perhaps 30 C; her ass was wide and shapely giving
her a compacked hourglass shape. Her hair spilled down to the middle of her
back. As astonishing as Al found these changes the one he found most
arresting was the face.
The little woman's face was a living monument to lust, carnality and craving.
"What is this?" Al spoke in her now chirping voice. As soom as those words
were spoken Al was dismayed as a vibration began to surround her. Unlike the
throbbing this seemed to come from the outside. Shadows stared to play over
her transformed body; these shadows, however, could be felt. Just as the
Interface had dissolved his old clothing now it seemed to be replacing them.
The shadows soon took solid form; Al could feel them gainling weight and
tightening on him. By the end of this cycle of change Al was even more
foreign to his original self. First the shadows had formed into underwear. Al
found himself in black silk seamed hose held up by garters, her lush rump
barely covered by high-cut black lace crotchless panties. Her almost
whisper-sheer bra held her soft breasts out like trophies. Then a corset had
taken form, followed in quick sucession by shoulder length leather gloves, a
tight leather dress slit to the thigh-- shiny high heels completed the
shadows work.
Taking her eyes off these new developments Alfonso Dukamon saw that he was
now also wearing make-up that looked as if the goddess of all whores had
applied it to her face. The final touch was her hair, which was now piled on
her head in an elaborate style. "This won't do!" cried the new Al. "I must
correct this." And so she started to do just that. Only before she could make
it across the basement back to the Interface she faded from sight and found
herself falling through what seemed like a long, long darkness.
The old rage of Alfonso returned at the state of affairs he had gotten him,
now herself in, but he would fix it, he would as soon...and then a new sort
of wave moved though her, this time in her mind.
Shortly in a house 20 miles from Al's former home a new working girl appeared
as a member of an exclusive whore house. After she appeared, reality shifted
and all, including herself, knew her as Little Twist, the most imaginative
and eccentric little hooker in Madam Belle's house.
Meanwhile back at Alfonso's former house the computer still glowed. Looking
at it we see his undoing. The buffeting of the warp field seemed to have made
typing more then a little difficult. In trying to type "I become A. Franky
Medgill and lead trumpet" what he had got was "i bbecomee a fReaky Midgil
aand leed srumpit." The computers's automatic spell checker had interpreted
this as `Make me a freaky midget and lewd strumpet.'
The End
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