Who Is Mercy Wild Chapter 5
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Who Is Mercy Wild? Chapter 3 free porn video
Who Is Mercy Wild? Chapter 3
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WARNING: You must read Chapters 1 and 2 first, or this won't make any
sense at all.
If you are unsure how to find them, look under the authors' names search,
find mine, and Chapters 1 and 2 of the story will be there for you.
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by Jacquie Windsor
[email protected]
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Johnny Fairmont smiled at the welcome sight of a pool in the centre of the
room adjacent to the one where Boadie and Brent remained. Not a ripple
disturbed its surface, and it filled the space with a pleasant aroma. The
dusty trail and the warmth of the Adriatic climate enervated him, so an
opportunity to bathe and relax was more than welcome. Johnny smiled and
took off his watch first, staring at it glumly as he realised it still wasn't working.
He held it to his ear, as though he might hear a glimmer of ticking but there
was none. He set it down on a sturdy bench near the pool.
The shiny surface of the water radiated sufficient heat and vapour that
Johnny felt comfortable as he stripped out of his clothes. These, too,
were laid on the bench. He poked a single toe into the water.
Keeping his glasses on, the keyboardist ventured into the water up to his
ankle. It was pleasantly warm, yet there was something unusual about the
way it jiggled rather than rippled. He withdrew his foot and stared at it.
The skin remained smooth but dry. He doubted that the smooth liquid in
the pool was water. It was almost like a tub of gelatine, yet it was neither
sticky nor viscous to the touch.
A series of steps led to the centre of the depression set into the floor.
Adjusting for the refraction of light through the liquid, Johnny guessed
that it might come up to his neck if he stood in the middle.
Amazed at the strange way the pool looked like water, yet behaved
differently, he decided to find out for himself whether it would refract
light as he expected. One leg at a time, he walked slowly down the
five submerged steps, feeling the caress of warm water washing over
his legs first, then gradually up his torso as the descent continued.
Once in the middle of the pool, he found that his estimate was correct.
The water, or whatever it was, came up to his neck after all.
Relaxed by the confirmation that it refracted light in the expected
manner, and because it felt fine against his skin, Johnny retraced his
steps backward until he found a comfortable sitting position. He
immersed himself up to his neck on the second step leading down to
the centre of the basin. His eyes slid half closed and a quiet smirk
crossed his face. This was luxury.
The stillness of the pool was momentarily disturbed, yet Johnny
continued to relax until he became overwhelmed with the sense of
being watched. He opened his eyes and peered across the pool.
He squinted, feeling around for his glasses.
"Where the heck did I put them?" he wondered aloud.
"I have my glasses on," explained a female voice that came from across
the pool.
"Right. Where's mine?"
Johnny squinted to get a better look at the girl who had joined him
in the bath. She looked similar to someone he had known. Straight
blonde hair. She wore glasses, too, but they weren't the same style
he wore.
"You're playing some kind of joke on me. Those aren't my glasses,"
said the keyboard player.
"Yes. They are. I am you, after all."
"Right. What the heck does that mean?"
"I am you," answered the girl. "You and I are the same person."
"That's impossible."
"Why do you say that? Why do you think it's impossible?"
"Because I am right here and you are over there," explained Johnny.
"Just because of that? That's not a very good reason."
"OK. Well just logically it doesn't make any sense. You're?a?chick."
"Why should being in a different place and being a girl make any
difference? And that's 'girl'. Not 'chick'."
Johnny fell silent for a few minutes. Nothing seemed too logical. Ever
since Boadie had signed them up for this trip, nothing had worked out
exactly the way it was supposed to. This was just another example.
"Well, you look like someone I know or someone I knew. Why would I
be somebody I know is not me? How can I just run into myself all
the time?"
"It hasn't been all the time. Only a few times that you thought it was
me. Like, me being someone else who isn't you. We have met, you
are right."
Johnny noticed that she smiled pertly whenever she paused, adjusting
her glasses whenever she did. He began to think she was touching her
glasses on purpose, to tease him.
"You, well, me and you, came back from a mini-tour. That was before
you were in Gearjammer. You were touring playing country music. That
part of your career is pretty embarrassing for you, especially when that
welder guy from some industrial punk thing called Treblinka used to
bring it up at parties. Punk parties."
"Yeah, I remember him," said Johnny. "That was Jerry Watson. The guy
used to call himself Brutus Regicide. What a fucking hypocrite he was. He
made twenty bucks an hour welding and lived with his parents. That
Treblinka was the worst piece of bullshit I ever heard of. They thought
they were going to go to New York and become superstars. Leather jackets
their moms bought them at the mall in Grand Forks. Morons."
"Oh, come on, Brutus wasn't so bad. After all, we slept with him, you
know?"
Johnny's jaw dropped. "I?don't?think so. I never did."
"Well I did," grinned the girl, touching her glasses once again. "He was
OK, but not the best you ever slept with."
"What is it with you?" Johnny demanded. "You're just making all this
crap up just to screw with my mind."
"Think what you want. Anyhow, you interrupted my story about where
we met. So I'm not the only one changing the subject. Remember
Malicious Enterprises?"
"Yeah. They were my booking agent. That was some jerk and his stupid
wife who used government programmes to pay kids minimum wage and
use the profits to pay for their drug habits."
"That's right. Bob and Sandra Brown. They used to throw pretty wild
parties in Portland and get all the kids fried on MDA. We ran into each
other at one of those, if you remember."
Johnny recalled a few times he had gone to the Browns' parties. He
knew they were never in the same place, although he knew he had
gone to Oregon for at least one of them. That was some time ago,
though, when he was still a teenager. He knew he hadn't seen this
girl for around the same length of time, which seemed to confirm
some of what she said.
"It was at a penthouse apartment near the river. Beautiful view of
the river, the mountains, and all that. Do you remember it at all?"
The girl adjusted her glasses again. Johnny relaxed his eyes since
the squinting had become uncomfortable. Besides, his vision was
just poor enough that he could see her without noticing her hand
continually playing with her eyewear.
"I kind of remember. What were you doing there?"
"Same thing as you. We're the same person after all. Bob got you
into a room with him after you were starting to come down off your
high. You aren't as so straight-laced as you pretend to be, Johnny."
The keyboard player searched his memory for a scene such as what
she was describing. The place sounded right. He knew he'd been
to Oregon for one of the Browns' debauched evenings.
"Ha. You are starting to remember, aren't you?" teased the blonde
girl. "Bob Brown knew you were going to want more MDA and he
had you on your knees for it. As I remember it, he even told you to
unzip his pants and take it out."
Johnny felt a shock of realisation, amid the soothing tonic of the
pool.
"Ah, ah, maybe," he stammered. "Wait a second, I mean he could
have just told you that. It doesn't mean anything. Like not like
you were there or anything. Could mean anything."
"Really. So you think I'd care enough to ask Bob Brown if you'd ever
sucked his cock to get free drugs? You are pathetic."
She paused, allowing Johnny the chance to become deeply embarrassed
at the memory of an evening with the Browns.
"I know more. Lots more. Everything, even. What about Black
Duck's slut girlfriend. You wait till he's out working construction in
Yakima, and then you spend your free time over at her place. Oh,
nice taste in girls, too, Johnny. How'd you get to shacking up with
that slut?"
Johnny became increasingly tense at the girl's strident tone. Black
Duck was a skinhead who did power lifting in his spare time. He
was feared by many, although Johnny had befriended him only due
to his size. He wasn't tall as Boadie, packing roughly the same weight
into a five foot nine frame. His girlfriend Melanie was a chubby, earthy
girl who dressed poor even though both her parents taught at the
college. She had a fondness for combat boots.
"Black Duck would've killed you if he knew what you did."
"Well, I sure wouldn't have told him. I mean, she was obviously
lonely."
"Lonely?" giggled the girl. "You saw her at a party, and both of you
were loaded. You just thought you'd go ahead and tell her all the lies
that any guy would if he was desperate. Why'd you do it, Johnny?"
"There was nothing wrong with what I did. Black Duck wasn't going
to come back and just pick up where he left off. That just wouldn't
happen. No way."
"So you lied to her, and told her that you had to leave after the summer,
that you were going off to Washington DC to start a band with some
guys from State Of Alert and Nip Drivers. Where'd you get that stuff
from?"
Johnny reminisced and laughed a little to himself.
"You know, of course, but I won an air band contest by lip-synching to the
Nip Drivers version of 'Rio'. And I'd just heard that SOA was breaking up. I
mean, you could have proved it either way."
"Shallow bullshit," she countered. "You're all pissed off at me for sleeping
with Brutus because he's a hypocrite and a pretentious asshole, and you're
doing exactly the same thing. Who do you think you are? You don't fool me,
and I am you, in case you forgot."
"Well, it didn't really hurt anyone," argued Johnny. "Melanie was fine
with Black Duck coming back and just stopping the whole thing. She
never even picked up that relationship right where it left off anyhow. I
just think she was tired of him."
"That's not for you to say. You must remember your sex marathons on
your off weeks. When you couldn't get a gig and just decided to go over
to her place and fuck all day? Even that was a lie. You liked the room
as dark as possible even in broad daylight. You started fantasising that
she was someone else. Big man? I'd say you were a coward who couldn't
face your own lies and your own perversions."
Johnny sat in stunned shame. The girl was terribly right about the
whole thing.
"You would lie there and let her ride your cock, and you were imagining
the whole time that she was someone else."
"Shit," thought Johnny. "There's no way she could know this. She must
be reading my mind or something, because I would never tell anyone
this."
"You wouldn't admit it. But you had a crush on this secretary that lived
in your neighbourhood. Holly McArthur. She had blonde hair, big boobs
and the loveliest face. Very naturally kind of fresh. And while you were
in bed with Melanie, while you were inside her, you imagined that she
had traded places with Holly. You wanted to fuck Holly so bad, but there
was no way she was going to go to bed with you. Never in a million years.
"So you're kissing and fondling Melanie's boobs, pretending they were
Holly's. That's not all. Once you knew you could get off like that, you
imagined that you were Holly, and that you were riding some loser's cock
and squealing. And that got you really hot. If you couldn't fuck Holly,
you wanted to be her, didn't you?"
"Please," implored Johnny. "I wish you'd talk quieter or change the subject
or something. Boadie and Brent are going to hear."
"Hear that you broke into Holly's apartment one day? Hear that you stole
some of her lingerie? One of her bras? Oh, Johnny, why wouldn't you want
your band friends to hear about that? I couldn't imagine." The girl spat
the words in a mocking tone.
"If she's really me, how can she be so cruel to me? So insensitive?" Johnny
rationalised. He was still having a hard time believing that they were the
same people. He thought she could either be reading his mind, which
seemed equally impossible, or that he had somehow told someone about
his shadowy secrets. That merely seemed unlikely.
"You have no faith, do you? I'll be blunt with you then."
The girl rose from her seated position in the basin and stood knee deep
on the second step leading down. She slowly and calmly walked around
the oval. She stopped once she was at his side. He stared up sleepily at
the girl, who appeared to be roughly his age.
"Let me show you what you can have, if you truly want it."
With that, she took off her glasses and placed them on his head, adjusting
them until he was able to discern her figure. The girl was slender and frankly
cute. Naked, and completely blonde.
She grinned luridly at him and stretched one leg over his reclining pelvis.
She lowered herself into the pool, straddling him and allowing her youthful
breasts to settle inches from his lips. Her pussy rubbed against his cock
and her lips curled into a satisfied smile.
"You have done this before, Johnny. We have both done this before. I am
Cynthia and you are Cynthia, too."
Her voice seemed to sing to him in a symphonic whisper.
"You wanted to be someone else, Johnny, and you wouldn't stop at your
fantasy. You had to have it. I have needed it too. Sometimes the wind
arrives from the north and in spite of its cold, I enjoy it. But when it shifts
to a westerly wind I am afraid. Hold me, Johnny, and make love to me,
because that will keep me strong. I love you because you love yourself.
You need to do this to make us both strong."
Cynthia's meandering whispers put Johnny at ease. She had already
reached down to insert his cock into her, and she was writhing on it
just as Melanie had during their fling. In the same way, Johnny's mind
sank into a relaxed serenity as he felt himself consumed by becoming
Cynthia.
"The sun's disk dies on the western wind," gasped the young lady,
filling herself with Johnny's erection and his consciousness. "That's
why I'm so afraid of this stupid place. Together, as one, we can make
it through. We can fix it."
The air felt heavy in Johnny's throat. His eyelids dropped shut and
the brightness of the room faded into blackness. He knew he was
Cynthia. It was a glorious feeling, penetrated and alive with sexual
electricity.
She felt the cock within her explode in a frenzy. Her heart was lost
in some other world. It was a world of mythical nonsense. It had
painted flowers and visionary animals she couldn't imagine as
Johnny Fairmont.
Cynthia stared down at the reclining figure beneath her. She plucked
the spectacles from the shell of the keyboard player and allowed his
head to rest back onto the steps. She grinned with satisfaction as
the body slipped under the smooth liquid. Adjusting the glasses on
her face, she knew she was both Cynthia and Johnny Fairmont, and
was stronger than the sum of the parts.
In a far part of the room, she found a slatted closet door. Within it,
Cynthia discovered a delicate robe covered with flowers. It fit perfectly,
and she strode quietly, barefoot, across the stone floor towards the
door that led to the other rooms.
She was startled when it opened abruptly. A pretty girl, with flowing
brown hair, an overtly sexy ensemble, and a sweet crimson smile,
strutted through the door.
"Cynthia. You look so cute in that outfit. Recognise me?" Rebekkah
slid her hand down her side to her hip, curving her body into a
mock statue, and toying with her hair.
"Rebekkah, you look like a Corinthian prostitute," laughed Cynthia.
"Haven't you got any modesty?"
"Would you have modesty with a body like this?" Rebekkah asked
in reply.
"Naw, I guess not," agreed the shorter girl. "I got Johnny though; did
you manage to get one out of this yet?"
"Yes, the guitarist. Well one of them."
Cynthia stared over at the glassy pool. Its surface had become opaque
and mirrored, entirely swallowing the form of Johnny Fairmont.
"There is something about this place," said the blonde-haired girl. "I kept
thinking after I accepted this transformation that I would somehow
know what was going on. I mean, Cynthia seemed to know everything
but she doesn?t. You know, Rebekkah, that I saw some guy in a robe
and old armour in one of the other rooms. And there's the whole business
of the yellow elephant."
"I know. That's weird. And there was some inscription over the door
where we came in. Right after this whole kind of tapestry carved into
the stone. Something about the right way to walk."
Cynthia stared down at Rebekkah's feet, strapped neatly into a set of
high-heeled shoes. "I don't think it's my shoes," smiled Rebekkah.
"That would be just too obvious."
"What happened to your boyfriend?" asked Cynthia, changing the subject.
"What would make you think," began Rebekkah, placing both hands on
her hips now, "that anything would've happened?"
"I did it too. I figured you must have gotten some. Hey, I'm teasing. Say
you didn't enjoy it?"
"I'm not going to lie to you. Of course I liked it."
Cynthia grinned in silent, knowing agreement. She turned once more
to reassure herself that the pool was still opaque, still concealing and
consuming the body of the man who had joined her in this form.
"We've gotta find Boadie and Brent. Or whatever they've become by
this time. It feels good because it's nicely cool in here. And the wind
is still blowing a little from the north. That's a good thing."
"Why should the wind make a difference?"
"I'm not sure. It's not really something I can explain. It?well?
just leave it at that."
Rebekkah turned suddenly towards the door. She heard the sound
of heavy boots on the stone.
"That sounds like Boadie," she said. "It sounds like he's in a hurry,
too."
The two girls made their way to the door, but once they arrived in the
hallway the sound of Boadie's heavy footfalls was disappearing into
the distance.
"Me barefoot and you in heels," cried Cynthia. "We're never going to
be able to catch him this way. I just hope he doesn't intend to do
anything stupid."
"Boadie? The guy who got us into this? Now what would ever make
you think he was about to do something stupid?"
Cynthia laughed briefly at Rebekkah's outburst. They made their
way to a corner of the hallway, leading to the exits they had been
warned against violating. Boadie was gone.
Rebekkah turned around. Past Cynthia's shoulder, she realised that
a solid wall covered the first chamber, where she had left all three
remaining members of Gearjammer. Whether Brent was inside she
could only guess. What mattered to her was that Boadie was
apparently no longer in the restricted area, and had sped away in
great haste.
"What do we do now?" Cynthia fretted. "That bastard is going to
wreck everything for all of us."
"Let me think," answered the transformed Terror. "There has to be
a way to fix this. I know we need Boadie. I can't say why, though.
It just is."
Cynthia adjusted her glasses, looking first at Rebekkah, then down
the corridor where they suspected that Boadie had fled, then at the
sealed wall. Whatever was happening, she felt a distinct loss without
the community of her band mates, even Scott, who had vanished
completely.
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This is the third chapter of a continuing story. We will be back soon!
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Alessandra
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