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Bikini Beach: Reluctant Voyeur free porn video
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Bikini Beach: Reluctant Voyeur
By Radioactive Loner
Copyrighted 2000
"Mr. Anthony?" Jacob's name was followed by repeated emphatic thumping on the
door. Jacob stood absolutely still, not wanting to generate even the slightest
squeak of the floor to indicate he was there. "Mr. Anthony, I know you're in
there!"
After about five minutes of concerted thwacking, the din ceased and a piece of
paper was slipped underneath the door.
"Notice of Eviction."
Jacob picked up the piece of paper and sighed.
*****
Jacob used to be a webpage designer. In fact, he was still a webpage designer,
but it was just hard to make a living for it in this section of the country.
There was a real glut of webpage folks in this area, and although HTML code
could be coded from anywhere, most clients still liked to look at their designer
face to face, not through e-mail or even videoconferencing. So it was either
move -- which cost money in and of itself, money Jacob didn't have -- or start
doing anything. Or starve.
And so, Jacob found himself in the offices of Fred Durnst. Fred was, to put it
politely, a sleazeball. (Far worse, and more accurate, expletives had been
used.) Fred did web porn. Jacob didn't do that sort of thing; you got a
reputation for it, and soon you couldn't find work elsewhere. And you couldn't
exactly present a client with your redesign of the "Hot Chix Central -- 600
Barely Legal All Nude Celebrities!" website as an example of your past work.
Plus, just on principle, Jacob had refused to associate himself with anyone who
spammed other people's e-mail. Still, Jacob reflected, right now I can't afford
such luxuries as principles.
Forcing a smile on his face, he asked Fred what he could do for him.
And soon found out it had nothing to do with webpage design, after all.
*****
"Got a gold mine for ya, kid," said Fred.
He took an envelope out of one of his drawers and shook some photographs out of
it. Fred pushed a few over to Jacob, who picked them up. They were 8" x 10"
shots of that water park down the street from the video store.
"Bikini Beach. I want you to put a wireless Webcam in the ladies' locker room."
"You WHAT?" Jacob got to his feet immediately. "Mr. Durnst, I do not..."
Fred opened another drawer, and withdrew a tightly rubber-banded bundle of
hundreds.
"For six grand plus costs."
Jacob sat down hard. That was... an attractive offer, ethics be damned. With
that, he could pay off his landlord and credit cards, and still have enough to
rent a moving van. Maybe Seattle or Chicago could offer him better work.
Now, the only question was... how much did he want that? Enough to do something
he knew in his heart was wrong?
*****
Beggars can't be choosers, Jacob thought. He had borrowed a keycard emulator
from a "friend" of his on the 'Net. The emulator was a piece of tech that had
been around for a while; you inserted the keycard part of it into the slot, and
then the computer part of the device began hurling various combinations at the
lock through the keycard until...
"Beep," said the lock, and Jacob heard the sweet sound of the doors unlocking.
Jacob pushed it open. In front of him was the cash register and ticket counter,
but he wasn't going to be even getting near that. Didn't need grand theft
larceny added to his already guilty conscience. On either side of the counter
were entrances. Jacob very quietly stepped towards the women's locker room,
hoping this one wouldn't be locked. Thankfully, he lucked out, and the door
opened with ease.
In a manner of a few minutes, Jacob was able to mount the concealed Webcams in a
few spots around the showers. Technology had improved enough that the cameras
were incredibly small, spherical beads that were rather easy to hide -- only the
unit that gathered the signals and then broadcast them to Durnst's servers was
slightly bulky, and that Jacob was able to conceal in the sealing, above the
ceiling tiles.
He plugged his laptop into the signaling unit -- all the camera views looked
fine. He then tapped a few keys and told it to start broadcasting. The unit
tried to comply, but replied that the signal being broadcast wasn't connecting
with Durnst's server, as if it were being blocked or something. Jacob grabbed
his cell phone and tried to call Durnst, see if he was having server problems...
then groaned. He must have left it on last night; the phone was completely dead.
Not even its LCD display was shining anymore.
Jacob went back to the door leading to the outside... and it was locked shut.
With each tug, a light blinked on above a sign: "Please Shower Prior to Leaving
Locker Room." Jacob walked to the other side of the room, where the door led to
the park proper. Pulling on that only yielded the same result.
Must be some kind of system they got rigged up, Jacob thought. The showers have
to be turned on before the doors unlock. Weird, though, he thought. You'd think
it'd be a fire code violation or something.
So, reaching over the divider into the shower area, Jacob tried to turn one of
the faucets. Which didn't budge a smidge. No matter how he tugged, nothing.
Hmm. The faucets must unlock only when someone's standing on the floor. Is it
weight-sensitive, I wonder?, Jacob thought, curious. Still, it looked like the
only way he was getting out of here was to stand beneath that shower.
Not wanting to have to walk around in sodden clothes on his way home (wouldn't
THAT be an attention-getter?), Jacob took off his slacks, shirt, socks, and
underwear and laid them in a neat pile on the bench outside the showering area.
Naked, he padded his way into the locker room. There was something downright
erotic, he thought amusedly, about taking a shower in the middle of the night in
a women's locker room. Definitely smacks of the forbidden.
And with that, he gave the handles another try.
*****
Sure enough, this time they moved easily, and a warm spray began to fall over
his body. Jacob noticed with some amusement that a pink mist also began to come
from the handle. Nice visual effect, he thought. They sure put a lot of care
into making this place look classy.
Jacob was tempted to just turn the water off, but the hot water felt great,
almost like a massage. Facing eviction and unemployment had knotted up back
muscles he didn't even know he had, and the shower was just kneading the tension
right out of them. A low moan escaped his lips, and his eyes opened somewhat.
That sounded like a woman's moan. Then he chuckled to himself. Like you've heard
a lot of women's moans, he chided himself. Besides, women's moans, men's
moans... there's really not any difference. Guys just don't moan that often.
He grabbed some body soap from the wall dispenser and began covering his body
with it. He rubbed some against his buttocks, and then frowned. He looked
around. His butt felt awful swollen. Except it wasn't tender, it just felt
enlarged. He rubbed the soap down his legs and then... he stumbled back. Those
legs looked WAY too damn slender and tapered to be his. And... wait a minute! He
had lost the small potbelly he had been sporting. What the hell was going on
here?
His body was beginning to feel stranger and stranger. Suddenly, his head felt as
if it had a lot more pressure pulling it backward, and something wet and heavy
slapped against his back. He reached back and looked in disbelief at the very
long strands of wet red hair resting in his palm. Then the tingling began to get
very, very bad and he winced, almost in pain, as his crotch felt for a few
moments as if it was full of pins and needles. He reached down and, forgetting
himself, let out a loud scream when his hand encountered nothing but a sparse
covering of public hair.
His hand shot out for the faucet, but as he did, not only did he suddenly
realize he had to reach up towards the faucet, but his hand brushed against
something growing... he looked down as two mounds began growing and growing
until a rather sizeable pair of breasts... at least an E cup, he'd guess...
stood out on his frame. Finally, the faucet turned off, and Jacob sat there, his
new breasts rising up and down with each panicked breath.
The world suddenly swam hard, and he sat right down there on the shower floor
before he fell and cracked his head. That even of itself was an experience. It
almost felt as if he was sitting on a cushion, the sensation of his ass was so
different. And he was able to go cross-legged much easier without certain...
equipment in the way. And his breasts jiggled against his torso, the wet skin
squeaking a little against the wet skin.
When he felt as if she could get up without the world swirling around her, he
did. And, walking over, he went to put on his clothes... only to find that they
had changed, somewhat.
His underwear had become a pair of white women's panties. The jeans looked the
same, except feminized: like most women's jeans, they were a lot tighter against
the skin, and Jacob really had to yank on them hard to pull them up over his
hips. He looked at the bra in near-total confusion, then gave it a try: putting
one arm through one loop, one arm through the other, and then trying to keep his
breasts in them while fastening it in the back. Finally, after a few tries, he
managed to get it fastened. His shirt had become a peasant blouse, which quickly
got put on. Socks and sneakers remained the same, if shrunken.
After he had put on his clothes, Jacob quickly crossed across the room, praying
that the door would open.
Which it did.
Only to reveal the form of a rather angry old woman.
*****
"Mr. Anthony, I do *not* appreciate this attempt to intrude upon my customers'
privacy." With a sweep of her hand, the five Webcams Jacob had placed around the
room whirled towards the woman's open palm. As the last flew into her palm, she
closed her hand tight with an audible crunch, opening it again in a moment to
reveal absolutely nothing in her palm.
She then pointed a finger at the ceiling, and a ceiling tile slid aside, the
broadcasting unit fell directly into a garbage can that somehow had mysteriously
repositioned itself, and the unit promptly turned itself into ash with a small
display of sparks and smoke.
Witnessing this display, Jacob turned practically white, and sat down on a
nearby bench. The old woman motioned him to scoot back some, and then sat down
herself.
"Mr. Anthony, I created this park so that young women could have a place where
they could relax without being worried about being ogled by men. Your work here
this evening, had it succeeded, would have totally obliterated that dream. These
women would have had their bodies broadcast all over the Internet, and been
ogled over by thousands of men. The damage would have been... nearly
irreparable.
"I _cannot_ let that go without punishment. Severe punishment."
"Still," she said, musing. "You didn't exactly have the best set of
circumstances leading you into the situation. Desperate times can often bring on
desperate measures. And I do wish to get this Durnst fellow."
Coming to a decision, she looked at Jacob. "Step under the showers, child. Don't
worry about removing your clothes; this time it will be just the mist."
Trembling, Jacob obeyed. With a small gesture of the old woman's hand, the mist
surrounded Jacob, and he felt some changes taking place. However, all he could
see were the pink clouds drifting around him. As he stepped away, he looked
down. His breasts had grown even larger; at a conservative estimate, he'd say he
wore an H cup, or perhaps even a J. His hips and buttocks flared out even more,
and his red hair had become curly and grown all the way down to his buttocks.
His clothing had changed into a much trashier outfit. The jeans had become a
tight black leather miniskirt, and his panties had disappeared entirely. The
blouse had changed into a V-neck with a plunging neckline that preserved no
modesty at all, the bra changing into a barely-there black lacy number that was
clearly visible. The socks had become black fishnet stockings capped by six-inch
heels.
"Oh, my gosh! I have such bigger boobies! And my butt is so big! I bet boys will
be all over me!" Jacob exclaimed. Then she frowned. "Wait a minute. I didn't
mean to be talking about my boobies. And I don't *want* boys to... well,
maybe... hey, why I am talking like such a silly-billy cutey-pie? After all, I'm
an exotic dancer, not some bimbo."
Then she frowned.
"No, I'm not an exotic dancer. I'm an exotic dancer!" She frowned again. "Come
on. Why can't I say it?"
The old woman smiled. "Say your name."
The bimbo's eyes looked at the woman in fear. "Why?"
"Just say it."
"Cherry Carmichael." Her eyes widened. "No, it's not. My name's not Cherry, it's
Cherry! Cherry Ellen Carmichael!" She sat down, suddenly, crying.
"It's not as bad as you think, Cherry," the old woman said, her eyes softening
somewhat. This one's punishment would help him in the long run, but she still
never was one to like causing pain. At least not to good people.
Sighing, the old woman began ticking items off on her fingers.
"Number one. Your mind is mostly fine. I've not robbed you of your intellect,
just made it a little harder for you to read, write, or operate a computer. As
Cherry, you'll have to make your living as a dancer. Other than that, I have
merely made your body, your life, and your method of speech that of a... less
intellectually gifted woman. A bimbo, in your parlance. Trust me, trying to
actually think through mental sludge is much worse than the simple aphasia that
you're experiencing, Jacob.
"Number two. You do have a job; I've not left you for the streets. You're an
exotic dancer at the Kitty Cat gentleman's club on the city outskirts. It's one
of the more respectable places of their..." -- the old woman grimaced --
"trade... and while you will get ogled and pawed somewhat, you won't get badly
manhandled nor worse. You will have a place to stay; you are roommates with some
of the other dancers.
"Now, number three. Ms. Carmichael, I am going to make a deal with you."
Cherry looked up.
"Your punishment will last for only one year."
In one split moment, Cherry experienced the unusual sensation of simultaneous
horror and relief... horror at the thought of spending a year as a woman, while
relief that this was not a curse she'd live through for her entire life.
"If you do nothing, you will spend it as Cherry the entire time. But *if* you
can manage to get Mr. Durnst into my park, you will spend the rest of your year,
from that moment on, as Sarah Anthony... the woman who you initially came out of
the shower as. She is the woman you would have been born as if you had been born
female. Your parents, sister... everyone, for that year, will think of you as
Sarah, the female equivalent of you. You'll be able to express yourself
completely normally and have access to all your skills."
"But, like, okay... Mommy and Daddy... are they my parents now?"
"No. Cherry Carmichael's parents died when she graduated from high school, and
at the moment, neither a Sarah Anthony nor a Jacob Anthony were ever born. Your
parents, for now, will live as they would have if they had never had children."
Finally, she wiggled her last finger, offering the deal-closer. "Finally, Ms.
Carmichael, if you become Sarah, I will at that point extend to you a job offer:
designing a web presence for Bikini Beach." She gave a small smile. "Obviously,
there will be some content about the park that I won't want up there." This
managed to get a very weak grin out of Cherry.
"But we like blending in. And nowadays, it's getting that you stand out if
you're *not* up on the 'Net. Concurrent with the offer will be an offer of a
residence at the woman-only apartment complex next door for the remainder of
your term. They are quite pleasant and well-equipped."
"Ms. Carmichael," the old lady said, reaching out her hand, "do we have a deal?"
Cherry didn't have to think it over for long.
"You betcha, ma'am," she said, pumping the old lady's hand a little too
enthusiastically.
The woman smiled and winced slightly as she pulled her hand away.
"Good luck, Cherry. The Number 10 bus stops in front, and I think I see it
coming down the road now. It'll take you to your new home. The address is in
your purse." The old woman pulled a black bag seemingly out of nowhere and
handed it to Cherry. Cherry grabbed the straps with both hands, and the old
woman began walking her towards the bus.
"It's not going to be an easy year, young man. But you will get a lot of mileage
out of it, and you will be a better man for it at the end, no matter whether you
spend it as Cherry or Sarah. And never forget," she said, her eyes darkening
somewhat. "You brought this completely upon yourself, and I am being very kind."
"Yes, ma'am," Cherry said meekly as she got on the bus.
The old woman watched the bus pull away. As she walked back to her office, she
shook her head and cast a glance skyward. "Kids these days."
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