Bikini Beach: Ring Of Good Luck free porn video

Bikini Beach: Ring of Good Luck By Elrod W With a bit of trepidation, Peter Hamilton strode slowly toward the ticket booth. The trepidation was perplexing to a casual observer; even dressed casually, Peter was a picture of success. Casual slacks, expensive polo shirt, Rolex watch, his graying hair combed perfectly and without any sign of impending baldness. A strong chin and piercing blue eyes set off the tanned and experience-weathered skin of his face; Rather than looking old, the combination was one that most women would have described as ruggedly handsome. Peter Hamilton's outward appearance screamed `successful businessman.' And yet, he walked nervously toward the ticket booth. Around him, young and attractive ladies streamed, some stopping at the booth, but most going directly to the turnstiles. "May I help you?" Peter looked at the young woman in the booth. She was pretty, with a soft pleasant voice. "I'd like to purchase a pass, please." He sounded unsure of himself, ill at ease. The young woman smiled. "For how long?" "Uh, just one day," Peter stammered. He really was starting to feel self- conscious. He gave the girl his platinum card, and signed the receipt. "Enjoy your stay, Mr. Hamilton." The girl smiled. "And remember, health regulations require you to shower before going in any attractions." Peter smiled at the girl. For the briefest of moments, he felt like she knew something about him, like she saw inside him. But the feeling passed quickly. "Thank you." Anya watched him walking toward the gate, and she frowned. Something wasn't right. She couldn't identify it, but there was something. She closed her eyes, her brow wrinkled in concentration. But she felt nothing. She shook her head, and glanced out the window. Mr. Hamilton was already through the turnstile, heading for the men's locker room. Anya turned her attention back to the next customer. ***** Peter stepped into the shower, expecting a blast of icy water. Instead, it felt pleasantly warm. Warm and... tingly. He turned - and felt a sudden stabbing pain in his right hand. On the ring finger. The pain radiated outward, like his hand was aflame, singing and scorching every nerve. Peter opened his mouth to cry out, but no sounds came. For the longest few seconds in his life, Peter felt the agony coursing through every fiber of his body. As suddenly as it started, the pain ended. The tingling of the shower erased the pain almost instantly, leaving him puzzled about its source, and relaxing, as he was soothed. Around him, the water vapor rose in a nearly indistinguishable pink mist. Peter took a deep breath, and slowly let it out. This was it. He couldn't chicken out now. His nerves were steeled, his plan in motion. Peter walked briskly toward the door. He felt a bit odd; had he been paying attention to the signals his body was sending, he would have recognized that it felt like he was a bit shorter, and that his hips seemed a little wider, giving his gait an awkward sway. He would have noticed that his chest felt odd, like something was tugging and swaying lightly there. He would have noticed the faint brushes of hair against his shoulders. But Peter noticed none of these things; so occupied was he by three things - his plan, the strange pain that had coursed through his body, and of the strangely invigorating shower. Peter pushed against the door, amazed at how hard it was to open, and stepped out into the bright sunlight. His eyelids slammed shut, blocking the bright rays of the sun as his pupils adjusted. After a few seconds of squinting, he opened his eyes. Staring at him, a few scant yards away, was a woman. Peter was taken with her. She was older than most of the girls in this park - perhaps forty or forty-five? However many years she'd experienced, they had been kind to her. Her eyes were the most attractive blue Peter had ever seen. Her skin, lightly tanned as it was, was still devoid of deep lines and wrinkles. This woman had taken care of herself, Peter thought. Her hair, in a neat cut, hung just above her shoulders, curled under at the tips, while perfect bangs curled to just above her fine eyebrows, beautifully framing her gracefully attractive features. A very attractive style for an older yet very elegant woman. He let his gaze wander, hoping that the woman wouldn't think him forward to stare at her. And he nearly choked. The woman was - topless! Her modest breasts hung with little sag, perky little boobs just perfect for her frame. Her waist was nicely proportioned, not absurdly skinny, and yet not flabby. None of the ravages of time or childbirth were visible. Her hips were, again, nearly perfect. Not too wide; just enough to be alluring and feminine. Peter glanced back up, and realized that the woman was staring at him. He gulped, feeling guilty of having been caught. And then he saw an old woman behind her. "Madam," a voice called out behind him, "I do not allow topless swimming in my park." Peter turned, and his jaw dropped in shock. The woman he saw, the old woman whose voice he'd heard, was behind him. He turned back, and saw, to his surprise, that the woman was aping his movements. The woman was... himself! He'd been staring in a mirror - at his own reflection! Peter spun back to the old woman, his mind reeling. The old woman held out a bikini top. "No topless swimming," she said sternly. "But..." Peter tried to protest, but his mind was having problems grasping the apparent changes. Still gazing in the mirror, he saw and felt his hands slip up, touching the impossible orbs on his chest. He turned slowly to the old woman. "But I'm not a woman," he protested, hearing as if for the first time the impossible sound of a softer voice ringing in his ears. The old woman smiled. "Put this on." She placed the bra in Peter's hands. "Now, let me explain something. This park is a private resort for young ladies - a place where they can have some privacy from lustful and leering men." She held up a hand to wave off Peter's protest. "And yes, I know that you aren't a typical man in that regard. But rules are rules. The magic changes all men. And to answer your next question, it will wear off, but only about 12 hours after the pass expires. Sometime tonight, you'll change back to yourself." Peter stared, open-mouthed, at the old woman, not believing what she'd just said, but unable to counter the facts. Finally, he felt control of his mouth again. "This is crazy," he protested. "I'm not staying a woman. I'm leaving." He turned and marched back into the locker room, angry. ***** Petra - that's what the driver's license, credit cards, and other identification said - cursed under her breath as she sat at the stoplight. She was uncomfortable in the skirt she was wearing. And at the hair dangling around her face, tossed as it was by the breeze. Petra realized why women wore scarves while riding in convertibles. She glanced in the mirror and noticed that her hair was still - mostly - in place. Then she glanced out the side. And felt a shudder of - something! It was partly revulsion, and partly delight, at the sight of the two young men in their car, sitting next to hers, staring admiringly at her. She felt her cheeks redden in humiliation - that she should become the object of men's desires! And yet... Somewhere, deep inside her, Petra realized to her absolute shock, that she was starting to feel curious. A strange curiosity about these two young men stirred within her, giving rise to warm tingling sensations, centered on her nipples - and in her crotch! Somehow, she was curious about what sex with these guys might be like! The light couldn't turn green any too soon for Petra. With a squeal of the tires, she sped away from the two young men. ***** Petra tossed yet again. Sleep hadn't come yet - not really. She'd fallen into that peculiar state between dreams and reality, between wake and sleep, where the two mixed in a confusing swirl of thoughts. In her dreams, Petra was with the two young men, experimenting with her new body, giving in to the carnal desires of the female flesh. A sudden pain ripped into Petra's dreams, tearing her back to reality. The same pain she'd experienced in the shower returned, radiating outward in an agonizingly slow procession from her finger. For seemingly endless moments, she lay in bed, unable to move or to cry out, until finally, the pain subsided. With a sigh of relief, Peter crawled from the bed, relieved both that the pain was over and that he was back in his own body. He staggered to the bathroom, still feeling the aches in every nerve cell. He flipped on the light switch, flinching from the sudden light, and then he screwed his eyes open and stared into the mirror. Peter felt like screaming. Staring back at him was another woman. A younger woman. But still a woman. She was perhaps twenty-five, with long wavy auburn hair swirling off her shoulders. Her features were more feminine than the other body, more youthful and innocent in appearance. Soft green eyes, creamy complexion. An attractive young lady. Peter looked down in horror, afraid that there were breasts on his chest, but unable to see through his pajamas. He fought the long fingernails as he clawed the buttons open. He parted the silk shirt, knowing with dread certainty that he still had boobs even as he saw their reflection in the mirror. Petra let the shirt slip off her shoulders as she stared at her new body. Her breasts were not much bigger, if at all, but they seemed - perkier? Her waist was a bit narrower, she guessed, but without a tape measure, she couldn't be certain. One thing she did know, however, was that her hips were wider, her ass rounder. Much more feminine. Petra screamed. ***** The car screeched to a halt in front of the ticket booth. This early in the morning, there were no customers, not yet. But Petra hoped that the old woman was already in her office, preparing for the day's crowd. She walked around to the window, and was disappointed to see it closed. Sighing in frustration, Petra glanced around, and spotted a low metal gray building. The office? Probably. She marched over to the door. The door opened when she banged on it. "We don't open until ten," the old woman said automatically. Petra shook her head. "You don't understand. I was here yesterday." The old woman's brow furrowed. "That's funny, I don't remember you." Petra was starting to feel the panic of having no control. Surely the old woman knew what was going on! "Yesterday, I got changed." The old woman shook her head. "You got a multi-day pass, then?" "No!" Petra's frustration was starting to come out. "I got a one-day pass. You said I would change back last night." The old woman stared at her in concentration, frowning as if she was starting to sense something wrong. Then her eyes widened in surprise. "Come in please." Petra followed the old woman into the office, and then sat in the chair she was offered. The old woman was looking at Petra, her gaze wandering over her entire body, while she seemed to be lost in some type of daze. Finally, she lifted Petra's hand, staring at the ring. "This ring. Where did you get it?" she asked. Petra cocked her head. "A magic shop in the mall. Some old guy in a bathrobe sold it to me. He said it would help me be lucky." She shook her head. "It worked, too. My business has been great ever since I started wearing it." The old woman frowned. "Have you ever tried it out with women?" she asked bluntly. Petra was confused by the question, but she shook her head. "No, never. I've never really been too interested in women." She saw the old woman's features start to wrinkle, and cut off her speculation. "No, it's not like that. I had a rare condition as a child. It's pretty much messed up my hormone levels. Permanently. I never could get excited about girls." The old woman frowned. "I'm not sure what's going on here, but I'll do some checking. Come back tomorrow morning, and we'll see if we can figure this thing out." Petra was not encouraged by the look on the old woman's face. It seemed to be - worry. ***** Not knowing what else to do on a Monday, Petra drove to the office. That turned out to be a mistake. The security guard wouldn't let her in without a badge or an escort, and Petra realized to her shock that she couldn't call into the office. No one would possibly believe that she was he. Still determined to make get some sanity in her day, Petra drove into the parking garage. Maybe she didn't look like Peter, but this was still his car, and she still had his keys. Cautiously, looking out for anyone else, she crept into the building, sighing with relief as she sank into Peter's office chair. `So far, so good,' Petra thought. `Now what?' She realized that she needed to get some help. She immediately thought of Betty, Peter's executive secretary. She started to pick up the phone, but then thought better. Betty wouldn't recognize the voice, and would probably call security. Petra might end up in jail for trespassing or something. She logged on to his computer, and sent an email to Betty. Within a few moments, Betty came scurrying into the office. She started as she saw Petra sitting in her boss' chair. Her features clouded. "Young lady, where is Mr. Hamilton? And what are you doing in his office?" Petra felt uncertainty return. This wasn't going to work. "Please let me explain," she said softly. Betty frowned, then her eyes hardened. "I'm going to have to call security." She started to turn. The uncertainty turned into panic, but Petra pushed it away. "Betty, please sit down." Her tone was very insistent. Just like Peter's would have been. "Let me tell you about the Thompson proposal." Betty froze, and then turned slowly. Her eyes watched Petra warily as she eased herself into a chair. "Go on." Petra swallowed. "You were working late one night with Mr. Hamilton on the Thompson proposal. He ordered pizza, which you two ate while working. You left the office about midnight. And before you left, you tried to seduce him. You suggested that the two of you could have a nice affair." Betty's eyes were wide with fright. "Who told you that?" she stammered. "What do you want?" Petra let out a breath. "He didn't tell me. Because I'm him." She watched as Betty tried to comprehend. "Yesterday, I went to a park. To try to find some nice young lady. You know - someone who would want to marry a rich successful man. To stop all the rumors about my... sexuality." Betty's eyes were wide as she realized that this was real. "It was a private park - a magical park. For women only. When I went in, it changed me." Betty sat for several moments, her mind spinning. This couldn't be real. And yet, Petra knew about her trying to seduce Peter. And of his sexuality. She was finally convinced. "It really is you." Petra let out an audible sigh of relief. "Yes, Betty. It is me. And now I've got a problem. I was supposed to change back, but didn't. The old woman who runs the park is checking into it, but in the meantime, I need to do something to keep my mind off this... this change. I want to lose myself in my work." Betty nodded. "I'll get a temp badge and pass card. I'll tell everyone that you're Peter's niece. Peter is... um, in Miami at a trade show? Yes, that'll work." Her mind was already thinking of all the details. Which was why Peter had promoted her to her position. ***** Petra sat back from the keyboard to stretch. Unannounced, the door opened and a young kid from the computer department came in. "Uh, sorry to interrupt," he stammered even as his gaze took in Petra's charms, "but Ms. Reynolds said to bring this in immediately." He was carrying a CD-ROM, which he handed to Petra. Petra smiled as she took the disk. "Thank you." She knew this kid - one of the promising young guys in the IT department. But she also knew that he wouldn't rise very far. He had an eye for the ladies, and especially the more endowed ones. His computer screen saver was of rather racy pictures of big-busted strippers, clad in only the most meager of clothing. Sexual harassment complaints - many of them - were very likely in his future. "Chuck," the guy prompted. "I'm Chuck. You must be Mr. Hamilton's niece. I'm glad to meet you." Petra realized that Chuck was trying to hit on her. And she also realized that, deep inside her, she was enjoying it. She was starting to feel - tingly. Warm inside. She rudely pushed those thoughts aside. "Thank you, Chuck. Now if you don't mind, I have to get some reports printed." She turned back to the keyboard, fighting the curiosity rising within her. She heard the door click shut, but found it very difficult to concentrate on those reports. Her mind kept coming back to Chuck. ***** The lust filled dreams, of having sex with a man in this very feminine body. Dreams so realistic that Petra didn't know if she was sleeping, or awake and really experiencing them. Then came the pain. The awful, agonizing, familiar pain. As if every nerve in his body were being tormented. Peter woke up, yanked from his fitful sleep. Moments later, when the pain passed, he sat up. Instantly, he knew something was wrong. It all felt - wrong. His hair was swirling around his face, which he expected. What he didn't expect, however, was that his chest felt like it was in a vise. It was hard to breath against the fabric squeezing his ribcage. He staggered into the bathroom, flipping on the light once again. Petra cried in horror. Her nightshirt was straining, the buttons torn nearly off, gaps between them yawning like a neat row of caverns. She ignored everything else while she fumbled with the buttons. The inch-long bright red fingernails slowed her, and as she popped each button free, the pressure in her chest lessened, while the shirt pulled further and further open. Finally, a pair of the largest boobs Petra had ever seen pushed out of the silk shirt. She cried again, horrified by the incredibly large breasts tugging and swaying on her chest. Like a pair of soccer balls squeezed within her skin. Finally, Petra was able to tear her gaze from the impossibly large bosoms. She stared up, and cried as she saw herself. She was still young, pretty. Too pretty. Curly locks of golden hair swirled around her face, dangling down off her shoulders. Her lips were full and pouty, like a showgirl. Or worse. Slowly, Petra's gaze slid down, past the enormous orbs on her chest, down to the impossibly thin waist and wide round hips. With an inward cry of anguish, Petra realized that this body was that of a stripper. A woman who flaunted her assets, who displayed her raw sex appeal. And then Petra realized something else. Something far worse. This body was about sex. In her mind, she found thoughts - strong, uncontrollable, powerful thoughts - about sex. Lots and lots of sex. She felt a warm wetness between her legs as she thought about having a man inside her. She felt a tingling on her breasts as thoughts of sucking a man's penis swam in her mind. Without thinking of it, one hand slipped down to her crotch even as the other began to caress her boob. ***** Petra pulled her car up to the Bikini Beach office. She stepped carefully to the door, slowly so as not to make her boobs bounce too much. She had no bra to contain these orbs, and they jiggled and bounced at every step, every motion. What was worse, Petra found that her nipples were incredibly sensitive, and as they brushed against the shirt, which barely contained them, she was getting excited. Petra knocked on the door, and it opened almost immediately. The old woman did a double-take at Petra, then sighed and shook her head. "Come in and have a seat." Petra followed slowly, and then eased into a chair. She waited until the old woman plopped heavily into her own chair. "Well?" Petra asked, her voice a mixture of eagerness and dread. The old woman shook her head slowly. "The ring is magic. I know the guy who sold it to you." She sighed again. "It was a trick. The luck you were supposed to want was with women, and the ring would turn you into whatever woman you most lusted after." She closed her eyes for a moment. "Damn old man!" she muttered almost inaudibly. Petra stared at the woman. "But I've never desired women," she explained. The old woman nodded. "Exactly. You wanted to be lucky in your company. And since that's what you wanted most, the ring gave it to you." She leaned back in her chair. "Until now." "And somehow - it's changing me." The old woman nodded slowly. "I put some guards in place, to prevent magic from entering the park. But that ring is Leprechaun's gold. It's very powerful ... and very tricky." She sighed yet again. "Somehow, the ring has trapped some of the magic from my shower. The magic was supposed to wear off at midnight, changing you back. But now, with the ring, it appears that when you change, you're changing into some female form so you can get lucky." She sighed. "Every day at midnight, or thereabouts, my magic attempts to wear off. Since it's been trapped in the ring, it's trying to wear off every night. And then it interacts with the original magic to change you." Petra tried to look like she understood. In reality, however, she didn't. "But why these shapes? Why this?" She cupped her large breasts tenderly. "I've never desired anything like this. Not like..." Petra's mouth widened in shock as she realized something, some missing piece of the puzzle. "Like who?" the old woman prompted, suddenly alert. Petra took a deep breath. "The young man from the computer department. The one who has pictures of large-breasted strippers on his computer." The old woman's eyes narrowed. "Did you interact with any other men yesterday?" Petra shook her head. "No. He was the last man I met." The old woman bit her lower lip. "Damn!" she muttered. "It's not your fantasy. It's the last guy you meet before the change." She cursed under her breath some more. Petra listened in horror to the old woman. She realized her fate - to change into the dream woman of whomever she met. Suddenly, she grasped at the ring, trying to tug it from her finger. Over and over she pulled, fighting what was obviously a losing battle. Finally, she gave up. Sobbing, she dropped her hands. "It won't come off!" she wailed. The old woman nodded solemnly. "I didn't think it would." She thought for a moment. "I may be able to get it off, but I'm going to have to do some research. May take a day or so." She tried to smile, to encourage Petra. "In the meantime, I'd suggest you go home and stay away from men." Petra bit her lip, wincing. She felt so damned horny right now. Like she was having withdrawal symptoms. She wanted - desperately - to have sex. As much as she could get. And she knew that was part of the change - it was mental as well as physical. "I'll try." The old woman frowned. "Oh, no. Don't tell me..." Petra nodded, still biting her lip. "I can't help it. I really, really need a man." ***** Petra was in anguish as she paced her apartment. She didn't dare leave, but she needed to. She wanted to. There was a strange, overpowering compulsion to have sex. Damned Chuck, and his obsession with big-titted porno stars! Petra fought the rising craving, feeling the entire time that she was fighting a losing battle. Finally, she decided to get something to eat. She ordered a pizza, afraid to go out for fear of succumbing to her unfamiliar and all-consuming needs. And she had little to wear that could possibly either support or conceal her mammoth tits. She paced in one of Peter's larger robes, knowing that it still displayed her more-than-generous cleavage. But it was the best she could do. The doorbell rang, and Petra peeked. It was the pizza delivery guy. She opened the door. The pizza delivery boy was a college kid. His eyes bugged out at the huge chest on the very sexy looking woman, spilling from the too-tight robe. "Uh, pizza?" he managed to stammer. Petra knew, at that moment, that having food delivered was a mistake. "Do come in," she said in a breathy, sexy voice. "I'll get your money." Her actions were spinning out of Peter's control; as he rode along, Petra put on a show, deliberately dropping the money so she'd bend over to pick it up, then smiling coyly at the young man when she caught him staring at her dangling boobs. Petra nearly raped him. She was driven by a need that had been building all day. She pushed him to the floor, then slid off her robe and straddled him, rubbing her bare and moist crotch on his pants, feeling his excitement growing even as Petra dangled one boob over his eager mouth. When the grinning but puzzled boy left, Petra sighed. She'd just made love. She'd just initiated the act. And still, this body demanded more. It was as if the pizza boy had merely been an appetizer. Down the hall, two college boys were having a Monday Night Football party. It wasn't loud as parties went, but Petra could hear them. And the desire drove her beyond her reasoning. She knocked on the door. When it opened, she tried to look cross. "Can you please keep the noise down?" she asked in a sexy voice. "I'm trying to practice my dance moves, and I can't concentrate with your noise." She got the expected result. The guys asked her to demonstrate, which she eagerly did, aware that their eyes were riveted on her bouncing boobs. Within minutes, she began to have sex in ways that Peter would never have imagined. But this body, with its compulsions, had a very vivid imagination. And Petra exercised that imagination. It was very late when Petra slipped back into her apartment. She took a quick shower to clean up, disgusted by her actions but also pleased and, at least temporarily, satisfied. She slipped, nude, into her bed. ***** Petra felt the now-familiar pain, the precursor to yet another change. When it finally ended, she sat up gingerly, afraid to find out what tonight's change was. It was with a palpable sense of relief that Petra realized her chest was lighter. Much lighter. She swung her feet to the floor - now a good drop - and marched into the bathroom. The face staring back from the mirror was a surprise to Petra. She couldn't be over nineteen. With very long straight black hair framing her face, parted neatly in the middle and drawn back over her ears. Her face was a very light brown, with almond-shaped eyes. A tiny Oriental girl. Petra guessed that she might be - maybe - five feet tall. A delicate Chinese flower. After the monstrosities she'd carried the day before, Petra thought this body had no breasts, so tiny did the A-cups seem. As she gazed at the petite form she now wore, Petra wondered which of the guys had a fixation on tiny Asian girls. ***** Petra sat in the office, staring at the old woman. "Well?" she finally asked as the woman finished some type of incantation over her hand. The old woman straightened slowly. She leaned back against her desk. "I can get the ring off. But I'll have to destroy it to take it off. And it's going to leave some magic on you." Petra frowned. "What does that mean?" The old woman shook her head. "It means that I can't change you back. You're going to be stuck in whatever form you're in when I take off the ring." Petra stared in shock for a moment, then sobbed. "I can't stay like this! Everything was working so well. Now, it's all shot! Everything! It's gone!" The old woman nodded sympathetically. "I may be able to help you out. Well, a friend of mine can." Petra quit sobbing, lifting her head from her hands. For a long time, she stared at the old woman. "So if we take it off now, I'm stuck like this. But if we wait, I could end up like..." She didn't want to think about the form she'd been in. The old woman understood what she was saying. "It's really a game of chance. Do you take this one, or try for a better body? And if you try, you're probably going to go through a few like yesterday." She shook her head. "Since it triggers to a man's fantasy, probably a lot of them." Petra swallowed. "But I'm so..." She looked down at the floor, ashamed to say what she was thinking. "This one is almost as bad as the last one. I keep thinking about..." The old woman knew exactly what Petra was thinking. "That's not all magic, you know. Some of it, maybe. But not all." She caught Petra's eye as the girl looked up. "You lived a long time with virtually no desire. So any seems like a lot. And that body will have its normal desires." Petra wiped away a tear with the back of her hand, trying to believe. It was hard. The old woman tried to smile. "You just wait here. I'll go talk to my friend. I can get you set up for a new life. I'll get you a job at your company - part time, of course. You'll have to start as a receptionist, of course. And when you're not at work, you'll probably want to go to college. With a degree, you should be able to make a good living for yourself." Petra looked up, accepting finally the finality and enormity of the change to her life. As she pondered the old woman's words, she finally realized the Peter's life was over. There was no way to go back. She was stuck - forever - as a girl. The only question was what type of girl. He thought about the bodies he'd already been in. The older woman more suited his taste, but there was something to be said for the second girl. She was attractive. The stripper? Much as Petra hated to admit it, sex had been a lot of fun. But she could never ever be taken seriously in that body. This body seemed nice. Pretty. And young. With this one, Petra would get back about twenty-five or thirty years. But a Chinese girl? Would it be better to take a chance, to try for another body? Did he really object to this body so much that he'd take a chance on another porno star - or worse? Petra realized that staying in this body was the least risky option. She tried to smile through the tears. It was hard. Everything about her life had just been shattered. But this woman was trying to help her pick up the pieces. Maybe, despite all the changes, she might be able to find some good luck in all the changes that stupid ring had brought to her life. Maybe, just maybe, the ring would make her lucky again. FIN