Inner Self Revealed
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Chrissy and Radioactive Loner copyright this story 1998 and 2000. Permission is
expressly granted to archive this in any story archive, as long as no fee is
charged to access it.
Inner Self Revealed
Copyright 1998, 2000 by Chrissy and Radioactive Loner
I logged on to the 'Net, as normal, that fateful day... not realizing how soon
my life was going to take a very different turn.
I loved going to the different chat rooms and pretending to be different people.
The role I most liked to take up, however, was that of a girl named Maria.
Maria and I were two very different people. I was a shy, overweight man and she
was a vibrant, fit, beautiful girl in her late teens who was outgoing and loved
companionship. I loved to tease men in the chat rooms, and I often was the
center of attention.
None of them knew who I really was. I even got an instant messenger program and
chatted privately with several of them... but I never had cybersex, despite how
much they all wanted to. Well, I never did until that fateful evening. I quickly
went to my regular chat room but found that it was pretty quiet at this time. I
was about to log off when I was approached by Warlock.
Simon was his real name; I had chatted with him a bit and I found him strange,
yet intriguing. He had told me in a prior chat that he was interested in the
arcane, and practiced magic. I didn't believe him, of course, thinking it was
all just an act. We chatted privately for a while before the subject turned to
sex. (I was quite good at talking about it from a girl's point of view. I guess
it was because of all the porn magazines I had read with women's letters in
them.)
As we were talking, I found myself... beginning to get turned on! I actually
wanted to have cybersex with this guy! Part of me was disgusted with myself:
despite the fact I found it a turn-on pretending to be a woman on the 'Net, I
was still a heterosexual guy, wasn't I?
"Do you want to make love?" he finally asked me. I considered it for a few
seconds.
"Yes," I replied. Let's see how convincing I can really be, I mused.
"Then... come to me. And allow me to pleasure you."
I was about reply when suddenly, I felt dizzy. I felt myself black out. When I
came to, I got the shock of my life.
* * * * *
I was in a different room.
A bedroom.
It was quite large, with a double bed, and it was decorated in an old-fashioned
manner. The only modern appliance was a computer in the corner on a desk.
Sitting at the desk, was a tall, handsome man in his thirties. He had dark,
slicked-back hair, and deep, piercing eyes. He was wearing a robe... and little
else.
It was then that I noticed the peculiar feeling I had.
I looked down at my naked body, shocked... I... I was a woman! I had long,
smooth legs. Wide, feminine hips. A slim waist... and large firm breasts. Where
my penis had once been was a perfect, shaven pussy. And as I moved my head, I
felt the sway of my long, silky hair.
I gasped, not quite believing what was going on.
The man stood up and walked over. "Are you ready for your *pleasuring*, Maria?"
"I'm not Maria," I stammered. "I'm Martin! What... what have you done to me?"
I saw a small smile cross his lips. "Why, I summoned you here." And, almost as
an afterthought, he added, "And created you exactly as you described yourself in
the chat room, of course."
I suddenly had cause to regret not believing him when he told me he practiced
magic.
* * * * *
"But that was just a character," I blurted out. "I'm really a man."
"I know," he said calmly. "But you are also the person I seek."
"What do you mean?" I asked, stepping away as he approached. Seeing me back off,
he paused, and sat down.
"I don't like you, Martin. I don't like people who are dishonest about who they
are."
"I'm sorry," I said, looking down. "Believe me, I am."
"I needed someone to experiment upon with my magicks. When I saw you log on, and
felt the indiscrepancy between your name and your essence, I knew I had a
candidate. And when you offered to engage in sex with me, I knew you were
someone I could have no qualms experimenting with."
"Listen, I am so very, very... " With that, my voice just cut off. The breath
just wouldn't come; it felt as if I was being asphyxiated. I pointed in panic at
my throat, as blood rushed to my head and black sparkles danced in my vision.
"You're fine. Just breathe, but don't try to talk."
I took a deep breath in, and everything worked fine.
"You only can't exhale breath when you try to talk. A useful silencing measure."
Again, I tried to speak. To try to offer my apologies, to again try to get back
to being Martin, back in my home... and again, I could not force the breath out
of my lungs. It was some odd block that just worked whenever I intended to talk.
Weak, I found myself kneeling.
Even the act of kneeling felt so damned odd. Different musculature, different
weight balances. I had to brace my hands on the floor not to fall over.
"You can talk again," he said.
"I'm sorry, Simon. You can't believe how sorry I am," I blurted out. "Please,
just let me go. I swear to God, I'll never pretend to be a woman again."
"Oh, I know you won't," he said, with a small smile. "You'll never have to
pretend again. Martin's gone, Maria. There never was a person by that name. And
I made a point of that erasure being permanent. Your past is gone; what is left
to be determined is where your future goes from here."
"Can I be Martin again?"
"Oh, you could be him now." He gestured, and I felt what felt like a million
red-hot needles pierce my flesh. As I writhed, pounding in my ears, I heard his
voice tell me, "The change could've been painless, or even practically orgasmic.
I just like seeing you this way." Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I
shakily got back up to my feet, and I was male again.
"Understand this, Martin. You're in the worst possible situation. You're a
guinea pig for someone who's full of contempt for you. Now, I'm going to leave
you for a few days. But don't think things are going to be easy for you."
He tossed me a notebook and pen. "You will write in this journal each day for
the next six days, while I am gone. You will be completely truthful."
* * * * *
Monday
Fuck you, Simon. Ah, shit. I tried to go to bed tonight... if a cot with a
blanket could be called that... only to feel that precise same needle-hot agony
the moment I touched the sheets. Now that I have this journal and pen in hand,
I'm able to sit down on it as I write. And as much as I'd like to say words in
here that would hopefully placate him and let me go, I seem to be forced,
somehow, to write the thoughts that are in my head.
Anyway, I am stuck in this featureless room. No, it's not the same bedroom that
I appeared in... or perhaps it is. After he disappeared, the entire room turned
black for a moment, and when the lights came back up (or I woke back up?) this
room was around. And, no, I'm not happy about being left here. Oddly enough, he
was kind enough to leave me a bookshelf full of books. That doesn't seem in
keeping with his modus operandi of torture or experimentation, but who knows how
the hell he's working this.
I do know one thing... and this is why I'm telling him to fuck off. He seems to
be experimenting with a more gradual transformation. During the day I have
noticed some minor changes. My skin's a little darker, and my hair grew a little
bushier... not that noticeably bushier, but enough that I know it's not a day's
growth, but about the same that it would be for me if it grew out for a month.
Plus, my skin seems to have darkened a very slight bit, like it would be if I
tanned. (And I don't tan well.)
Man, fuck you, Simon! (If the bastard is going to force me by spell to write the
truth of my thoughts and feelings in this journal, then hopefully he is not
going to punish me for cursing him out. He can't exactly expect me to be happy.)
Did I mention that I couldn't clothe myself? There's absolutely nothing in the
room to put on, and if I try to wrap the bed's blanket around me at any time
other than when I'm trying to sleep, I get that same agony he's been torturing
with me before.
Well, I spent most of the day working on some Shakespeare he had on his shelf. I
bet old Will would have had some interest with this. Too bad he doesn't offer
any concrete advice on how to combat witches. Macbeth was in league (and, for
that matter, enamored with them), and wizardry in 'The Tempest', well, that was
more for the protagonist, not to be fought against.
I think I smiled for the first time since I got into this situation. How odd to
be analyzing Shakespeare nude while being held captive to some odd, mad wizard.
* * * * *
Tuesday
The changes were much more pronounced today when I woke up. My hair had
completely straightened (laying entirely flat), turned a much more lustrous
black, and was now so very long that when I stood upright, the ends brushed
against my back.
My thighs were nearly entirely the normal, and my potbelly was pretty much half
of what it had been. And it felt as if the same weight had not disappeared, but
had just been redistributed, because the small little deposits of fat that had
been under my pectoral were a lot larger, and the nipples were a bit more
pronounced. As much as I hated to say it, it felt slightly good to touch them.
Hey, I was not enjoying this situation at all. Don't get that wrong. But what
feels good to the body doesn't really take into account what your brain or heart
wants.
Oh, shit, and he's going to read this. I have to be more careful about what I
let come into my brain during these writing sessions.
In any case, my skin darkened even further. I'd say that my skin is the color of
a very lightly skinned Latino woman, which is what I had pictured "Maria" to be.
Damn it, Simon, I do not deserve this. I did wrong, but your sense of punishment
is incredibly out of proportion to the 'crime.'
My buttocks and hips have widened, slightly, and I can't seem to get an erection
come hell or high water. It's limp, and smaller.
I hate you, you fuck.
Tried to read the Shakespeare today, but it was getting a little boring. Grabbed
an old Stephen King novel off the shelf. Took me the entire damn day to get
through it... usually I read a hell of a lot quicker than that. Probably just
the stress. After all, it's not that easy to keep concentrating when you're some
odd half-male, half-female hermaphrodite nude being held captive by some
fanatical bastard.
* * * * *
Wednesday
Crap. I'm entirely Maria today.
The potbelly disappeared completely, and sunk its weight into my body, making my
breasts, hips, and buttocks even more pronounced. Thank God he didn't turn me
into some fat woman, I have to say that... at least this body is perfectly
proportioned. My ass is very nice, round and perky, and the hips curve extremely
nicely into a flat stomach. The large and curvy breasts are a lot more awkward
and heavy to deal with than when I was simply imagining the character, but
that's more than outweighed by their appearance... and by their sensitivity.
Even the slight jostle walking produces and the slight breeze of the circulating
air against the nipples feels pretty darn good.
Don't get me wrong. I would trade out of this body back into Martin in a split
second. Half a second. A quarter of a second, really. But, well, I suppose I
shouldn't be surprised that this body is nice. I pretty much pictured Maria as
one hell of a sexy cunt, and well, that's who she is. Granted, I was never
really planning to actually be in that body, but it wasn't like I was going to
picture being some 400-pound behemoth of a woman.
Well, at least I'm not a hermaphroditic freak now. I grabbed another Stephen
King novel off the shelf, but, well, maybe I'm just getting sick of his style
after reading another work of his so recently soon. Grabbed a couple magazines
from a basket. Unfortunately, they were women's magazines. Now, don't get me
wrong. I'm not buckling into this bastard. But if I'm stuck in this form, I
better get used to how to do stuff.
Makeup is essential to being a woman, doing your hair right, that sort of stuff.
Didn't have much to practice with. And it was kind of fun learning some of the
ropes.
* * * * *
Thursday
Still Maria today. My sexy body didn't change at all, in fact. Don't know if I'm
sad or happy about that.
It was really hard not to rub myself today. Still caught myself doing that when
I wasn't watching myself. Damn female orgasm is pretty sexy. I'm trying to
ration myself, so I just don't start... hold on.
Well, had to give myself one there. It's just fucking great. The female orgasm
is just this great fucking work of art. Just racks your entire body up and down
in pleasure, your mind blanks out, and even after that initial rock, it still
leaves you with a sort of shuddering cool-down that sticks around for a while.
The thing is, all those books seemed pretty boring today. Even those little
small books that were brighter and didn't have the hard bindings that I was
reading yesterday. So I just sorta played around with myself.
I'm actually not that mad at Simon. Being in this room sucks, but this body is
actually very cool. I'm not fat, and I could never feel this good in my body
before.
* * * * *
Friday
Where's Simon? I miss him.
Getting myself off is fun, but I want a dick inside me.
I try to be mad, 'cause I know I liked girls before. And I know something's
different. But then the achiness kind of gets to me, and I can't think for long
before I have to give myself a yummy orgasm.
I don't just rub myself down there anymore. I rub myself all over. My boobies
are so big I can lick them with my tongue, and that feels so... mmmmm.
Writing is boring.
* * * * *
Simon conjured an opening in the door of Maria's cell. She was bringing herself
off on the bed. Her sleepy eyes opened at the sound, and she leapt towards
Simon. So sure of his work, Simon didn't even bother readying a protective
spell. And he was right.
She dropped to her knees, soundlessly, and looked imploringly up at him. With
just a nod, she began to service him.
He smiled, not just from physical pleasure. His first experiment had been a
complete and total success.
The end
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