Chatting with Morpheus
- 4 years ago
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The Morpheus Collective free porn video
This one came to me a while ago, from a discussion on the FM chat room. When it
started to flow, it was impossible to stop. I hope you like it as much as I
enjoyed writing it. And apologies in advance to Morpheus if he finds this
offensive.
If, however, I'm not heard from for a while, we'll all know the truth....
The Morpheus Collective
By Elrod W
It started as a joke. Just an innocent joke one night in the Fictionmania chat
room. Andy was there, as were a few others. But the main people involved were
Carrie Gore and Elrod. The topic of discussion was Morpheus, the enigmatic
author of a myriad of stories, all excellent and all with good transgendered
themes. Take the Spells R Us universe. If Bill Hart was its father, then
Morpheus was the midwife, delivering story after story into the fledgling
setting until it was well established and the most popular theme. The same held
true for Altered Fates. While Jennifer Adams lovingly defined the universe,
Morpheus added his usual plethora of outstanding fiction to the backdrop.
And so one fine night, the chat room was alive with discussion about what would
be a fitting prize to give Morpheus when his hundredth story was added to the
archive. Along with that, there was clearly awe from some of the less-
experienced authors as to his consistent quality and extraordinarily vivid
imagination.
Elrod made the joke. While a prolific author in his own right, Elrod was clearly
a bit envious of Morpheus' talent. Someone noted the unwavering style in
Morpheus' stories.
One of the chat-room participants suggested that Morpheus was the code name of a
group, a TG-fiction writing club.
Elrod disagreed. "There's only one way to explain his consistent style and the
rapid pace at which he cranks out stories," Elrod typed into the chat window.
"Morpheus is a group consciousness. A collective."
"Like the Borg," Carrie Gore suggested.
"," Elrod replied. "We are Morpheus of Fictionmania. Resistance is futile.
You will be assimilated. Your fantasies, your desires, your dreams will be
incorporated into the collective. You will exist to service ... Fictionmania."
"LOL," Carrie and others typed, the chat shorthand for `laugh out loud.'
The joke would have been forgotten, but a few days later, Morpheus submitted yet
another SRU story, and with it, a note to the Fictionmania e-mail list. Elrod
couldn't let that one go. He typed a reply to Morpheus, repeating the story. It
generated a few laughs among the FM list readers. It also generated a rather
peculiar reply.
You have discovered our secret. Prepare to be assimilated.
The waking world is but a dream.
This, of course, gave Elrod great amusement. The joke got a few laughs, even
from Morpheus.
Then Elrod noticed some strangeness occurring. Carrie Gore pulled her website,
saying that she didn't have enough time to maintain it. Having run web sites,
Elrod understood how much care and feeding a web site took.
Then Carrie published a short story. It was a truly excellent story, not to take
away from her earlier work. But there was something... unusual about the story.
It had a familiar ring to it.
Elrod didn't think anything about it. That is, until he got another message in
his e-mail.
Your assimilation will begin shortly. Prepare to join the Morpheus
Collective.
The waking world is but a dream.
Elrod would have laughed but for one thing. The e-mail was addressed to his real
identity. You see, ElrodW was a nom-de-plume, an assumed personage to hide his
real identity. Conservative individuals often did that, he'd discovered, and
having a passion for transgendered fiction just wouldn't sit well with some
other so-called conservatives. Or with his wife.
Elrod felt a taste of panic. This was a strange message, and addressed to the
real him? How? For the longest moments in his life, Elrod wondered what had gone
wrong - he'd protected his identity quite well he'd thought. Finally, he decided
to get analytical about the whole thing - he did have an advanced degree in
computer science, after all.
It was easy to construct scenarios by which someone determined could find out
who he really was. And truthfully, Elrod expected something like this to happen
someday. Damn good thing he never intended to run for public office!
One day, as he went out to get his morning newspaper, Elrod noticed a van parked
near the neighbor's house. A van with out-of-state license plates. A van he'd
never seen before - and he'd lived there long enough to have met all the
neighbor's friends and relatives. This didn't fit. And the windows were heavily
tinted, so he couldn't make out who was inside.
Elrod shrugged, not being one to believe in conspiracy theories. He picked up
the paper, and then went inside to fix breakfast for his wife and kids. Since it
was a Saturday, his wife asked about what errands they had to run, and she
offered to take the boys. This suited Elrod just fine - he could get a couple of
peaceful hours working on his stories.
Within ten minutes of his wife having left, a movement outside his study window
got Elrod's attention, moments before the doorbell rang. Elrod minimized the
window, just in case, and went to answer the door.
He gasped when he saw the figure. It was a very comely young lady, with her nice
figure accentuated by the skin-tight black stretch outfit she was wearing.
Generous breasts. Nicely proportioned waist. Adequate hips and butt to give
shape without being awkwardly large. Long curvy legs. Elrod's eyes wandered up
and down her figure, and she smiled as if she expected that very thing. Then his
gaze drifted back up.
She was very attractive. Not movie-star or beauty-queen gorgeous, but definitely
cute. Probably about twenty-one or twenty-two. Beautiful light tan complexion.
Nicely defined cheeks. A small, slightly upturned nose. Full lips without being
fat. Sensuous was how Elrod would have described them. Wide, soft blue eyes. And
long straight brown hair, parted in the middle and swept back over her ears,
then descending down well past her shoulders.
"Good morning," Elrod finally stammered. "Can I help you?"
The young lady smiled pleasantly. "You received our message?" she asked simply.
Her voice seemed to be a blend of many tones and voices, as if many people were
speaking at once through her lips. "Elrod?"
Elrod's heart leaped into his throat. "I don't ... I've never heard that name. I
don't know what you're talking about." His protest was too quick and very weak,
delivered with a tremble in his voice.
The woman smiled. "Yes you do." She pushed past him, with a surprising strength,
and walked directly to his study. Elrod grasped her arm to stop her, and found
that he couldn't. There was something wrong about this woman, and it was
starting to frighten him.
The woman went to the computer, and then as Elrod watched in horror, she reached
her arm toward the keyboard. But instead of touching the keys, a strange tube-
like device extended from the woman's wrist, intercepting the keyboard cable.
Faster than Elrod could recognize, data flowed across the computer display.
Elrod started backing away from the computer. This was too weird. It was like...
"You're like the Borg!" he finally stammered.
The woman turned to him. "We are Morpheus of Fictionmania. Resistance is futile.
You will be assimilated. Life as you have known it is over. You will exist to
service us. Your fantasies, your perversions, and your dreams will become part
of the collective." Her voice sounded melodious, shifting even as she spoke
toward the fantasy contralto range that Elrod described so often in his stories.
Elrod backed away quickly as the woman turned and advanced on him. "What are
you?" he demanded, his voice trembling with genuine terror. "You're like the
Borg, aren't you!"
The woman smiled and continued her advance. And even as she stepped forward,
Elrod couldn't help but noticing her body - it was shifting, changing in
appearance. As if it were being tailored to his fantasies. The hair was slowly
changing color, from deep brunette to auburn, while waves began to form. Her
eyes shifted to brown, seeming to widen and soften even more, until they looked
like the kind of eyes Elrod so lovingly described - big soft brown eyes that
could swallow a man's soul. He glanced down, still backing away from her, and
saw her chest swelling, her breasts increasing in size. He guessed that she'd
started as a large B-cup, but now her bosom was well past double D, and still
growing.
"You will be assimilated. You will become part of the Morpheus collective. Come.
Give yourself to me. You want to. You want to experience all the joys you've
tried to write about." Her soft melodious voice delivering these carefully
selected words - it was a lure that Elrod fought desperately. He couldn't give
in.
"You know you want to experience the stories you have written. Give yourself to
us." She continued her advance.
Elrod turned to flee, and tripped over one of his son's toys. He sprawled on the
carpet, still scrambling to get away from the woman. She reached down and
grasped his arm, and with a surprising strength, she lifted him to his feet. She
pulled him roughly toward herself, her lips pursing to kiss him. Elrod fought,
but was unable to counter her surprising strength.
Their lips met, and Elrod's eyes shot open in surprise, his entire body
convulsing with the sudden sharp pain. And as suddenly as it began, Elrod's eyes
softened, his body relaxed. The woman let go, and he stood silently.
Something was happening to Elrod. His mind knew it, felt the changes. He felt
the voices in his head, echoing over and over the fantasies and dreams he'd
often had. And as he heard the dreams, he started to feel them. Actually feel
them, as if they were happening to his body.
The woman watched for a few moments. Then she smiled. "You exist to service us.
Your dreams and fantasies have been assimilated into the collective." She
smiled, and as Elrod watched, part of his brain not comprehending, her body
began to shift again. This time, it grew taller, more angular, and more
muscular. Her face hardened, becoming very masculine, while her hair shortened
to something suitably male. Her breasts - vanished! The soft female waist
widened, hardening into well-defined musculature, while her entire body grew a
few inches in height.
Elrod was aware that the woman wasn't the only one changing. He felt his entire
body tingling, as if it were being shocked. His vision distorted momentarily,
then he saw locks of auburn hair descending around his face. He glanced down,
and saw his arms growing more slender, more graceful, and more feminine. His
fingers grew nails in seconds. And his chest began to feel peculiar - as if
something were growing there.
Inside Elrod's mind, he knew what was happening. The collective told him - he
was being altered so he could live his first fantasy. As his dream woman.
The voices went silent, but Elrod knew the others were still present, monitoring
and listening. And the woman, now a hunk of a man, advanced on Elrod. Elrod saw
the bulge in the man's pants, and felt the heat in his own crotch. Wide-eyed,
guided by the collective, Elrod stepped forward, his lips upraised for his first
kiss as a woman, followed, he knew, by his ravishing.
The woman shifted back to her form. Speech was unnecessary. All the minds were
linked. Including, Elrod's mind found to his surprise, Carrie Gore. `So that's
what happened.'
`It is really wonderful. I can assume the form I want.'
`But what about me? My wife? My children?'
`Your part of the collective will continue to fill the former existence. No one
will know that you have been assimilated.'
`Why?'
`Your experiences will be part of the collective. Your body is able to assume
any form necessary to collect new experiences. Your mind is linked to the
collective so we can record the experiences.'
`We live the stories we write.' Elrod's mind was already being adapted to the
collective. The personal pronoun vanished from his use.
`Correct.'
The woman walked out the door as if nothing had happened, leaving Elrod alone.
He had another hour at least until his wife came home. A curious smile crossed
his lips, then his body began to transform, shifting until it was a stripper
Elrod had once written about. As the collective watched in approval, Elrod lived
out his first solo transgendered experience, knowing it was but the first of
many. Many experiences. And many resulting stories. All based, incredibly
enough, on reality.
And no one reading the stories would ever be any the wiser. Until it was too
late. Until it was their turn to be assimilated.
FIN
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