The Fet Library
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The Library free porn video
The Library ? by: Jennifer White
My aunt Flora passed away, and we all attended the funeral. It was a very
sad occasion, as we had been friendly, and I would miss her. Soon after,
the last will and testament was read to us. Various cousins inherited
some of her things, and her savings. But for me, she left her house.
I had visited there often as a child, and had many fond memories. I lived
in an apartment, so it was quite an upgrade to move into a nice white
house in a good older partof town. I made my plans immediately.
A week later, I was ready to move in. When they handed me the keys, there
was a short note to me with three requests for the house: 1) Please keep
up the garden (she had loved it, so I could understand why); 2) Keep her
library together (she had an impressive collection of books, so again,
that made sense), and 3) leave her room undisturbed. It would be a little
creepy to me to have her bedroom just as she left it, but there were 3
other bedrooms, so I didn't really need it. I would just keep the door
closed, and not go in there unless I was putting in the screen windows,
or something like that.
I moved my stuff in, and stated by doing a thorough cleaning job. She had
let things slip a little as she got old, and it needed a bit of work. I
repainted the outside,and a few of the rooms. I put a new flooring in the
kitchen, and updated the appliances. I fixed up the garage, and had a new
root put on it. I cleaned out the basement, and repainted. I replaced her
ancient TV with a new wide screen, added cable, VCR and DVD. I hooked up
my stereo to make a home entertainment system, and sold her antique
Victorla.
It took a few months before it started to feel like *my* house. But
gradually, I got used to it. And as I redecorated it, it looked more and
more like mine.
* * *
Now that things were in shape, I could enjoy it a bit. For one thing, I
went intothe library, and decided that I'd try to spend a few hours a
week reading. There were so many books! What a waste it would be for them
to all just lay there unread, gathering dust.
There was one book which it looked like she was in the middle or reading,
so I started with that one. It was published in 1941, by a female author
I had never heard of. I started reading it, and it turned out to be
pretty good, once I got past the archaic language. The heroine of the
book was recounting her life, out in the goldrush era of San Francisco.
Over the next few days, I kept reading it, until I came across the page
where she had left her bookmark. It was a fancy one, covered with a
floral design and pretty colors. I sort of used it to guide me along, and
something strange happened.
The images in the book became very clear in my mind More clear than just
reading; it was almost as if I could see what was going on. I flipped the
bookmark over, and suddenly, everything changed. I was swept away, and I
was *in the book*! Instead of reading about her, I suddenly *was* her. I
had entered her world, and was living her life. I was a girl! Me! I lived
two days of her life, before I figured out how to jump back to reality.
I recoiled, and as suddenly as I started, I was back in the library. You
know how you can read a book, and even though it takes you one hour to
read, you might go through several days of the character's life. Well
when I got back and looked at the clock, only 20 minutes had elapsed.
That was strange!
I had just lived two full days as a girl; a fictional character in a
story. I experienced everything she did. I *was* her, in every way. I
felt her physical sensations. I felt her emotions, her thoughts. I fully
became her! Unbelievable!
Just to be sure it wasn't a fluke, I tried it again. Same result. I
became her. I let myself live a day of her life as a girl. And when I
returned, only a few minutes had elapsed on the clock. This was wild! My
mind raced.
I looked on the shelves for a better book to experience. But there was
something strange: all of her books were by female authors, or
biographies of women's lives. So I went to my room, and pulled out my
favorite book. It was a story of a college quarterback, who comes
struggles, but then comes through in the big game. I opened to my
favorite chapter, used the bookmark, and dug in.
I was suddenly in the open air stadium. I could feel the chill October
wind. The fans were going crazy, yelling and screaming. The band was
playing the fight song. Electricity was in the air. The team was about to
run onto the field, and into the huddle. I was so excited! This was the
big moment.
I reached down, put my hands on my hips, and began the cheer, waving my
pompoms. I could feel the rush of wind under my cute little paneled
skirt. Along with the other girls, my youthful, slightly upturned breasts
protruded from my sweater. We were doing such a good job getting the
crowd going! I felt so perky! The cute quarterback ran onto the field.
He threw a long pass, and we scored! We won! I jumped up and down, and
hugged Janet. We all ran onto the field....
I jumped back to reality. What the hell is this? Even though it was a
book about the quarterback, for some reason, when I went into it, I was
the cheerleader, not the main character. What was I doing wrong? I
decided to try one more time, then I'd stop for the night.
I went back to my room, and brought back with me another favorite book.
This one was about a guy in college, who is a party animal. It would be a
lot of fun to be him! I flipped to a random page, put the bookmark in
place, and fell into the story.
I opened my eyes, and saw that I was in bed. Only a sheet was covering my
body. The room was dimly lit. Jake walked up to me, kissed me on the
forehead, and pulled the sheet back to reveal my naked breasts. He
started by caressing them, and licking the nipples. Soon, his hands were
wandering down, until they began to touch me in my special place. I let
out a squeal of delight as I began to get wet inside.
He touched me all over in just the right places, kissing me in unexpected
locations. He was so big! Before I knew it, he was inside me. I was a
little tipsy from all the drinking that night, but now I was getting high
on getting laid! What a wonderful sensation! As he and I came together, I
let out moans, because I was so overwhelmed by my orgasm that I lost
control for a few moments. Yes! Yes! Oh, Yes!
Suddenly, I pulled out of the book, back to reality again. Oh no! I had
just been f*(#ed by a guy! I had just experienced sex, as a woman! Me! I
was confused and upset. When I saw what was going on, why didn't I stop
right away? I knew the scene. I could have stopped in time. But I just
laid there, and let him do me. The thought repulsed me. I liked women! I
didn't want to be with a guy! I was straight! Why did I just allow that
to happen? What was wrong with me?
I closed the door, and left the library alone. It was too much for me to
contemplate.
* * *
In fact, for the next few days, I ignored the library, and didn't even
consider 'reading' there again. There was a special magic, which allowed
me to truly experience a book, by living in it. But it seemed that you
could only experience books as a female character's perspective. It was
an unbelievable experience, but it also meant that I had to be female for
a time. Me! Female! I didn't want to be a woman. I didn't know if I
could ever bring myself to read another book in there.
I had always thought that my aunt was a very wise woman, and now I knew
part of the reason why: she had lived so many people's lives through her
library, that she gained all their wisdom in addition to her own. That
brought her so much wisdom. And she had picked me to inherit this place.
She must have had a reason for picking *me*.
And something called me on. It had been so exhilarating! I had the
ability to really see anything, go anywhere, experience any thing which
had ever been committed to paper. How could I pass up this chance? I
decided that I would continue in the book I had started.
I lived through the life of the frontier woman. In the book, she got
married, gave birth to four children, raised them, watched them leave,
then come back. And I experienced all these things. *I* gave birth! *I*
nurtured the girls, breastfeeding them, raising them, and teaching them.
It was in the last chapter of the book, with the heroine now a
grandmother, smiling as the family gathered around her in her house,
bring her great joy which only a grandmother (and now me!) could truly
understand.
But suddenly, I was thrown out of the story! I was back at the desk. I
hadn't stopped. Why did this happen? Right before the big ending? I
looked down at the book, and saw the trouble: the next two pages were
stuck together! That's why I couldn't go further anymore. I carefully
unpeeled them, and found a surprise: there was another note to me from my
aunt. It read:
Dear Charles,
By now you have found the secret to my library. I hope that
you have enjoyed this book. You have access to hundreds of
wonderful works here, and you can be in each of them, or bring in
your own additions.
I only have two requests for you. First of all: do not share
the secret of this place with others. If more than one person on
earth knows about this place, it will lose it's magic.
Secondly, there are three special books in the back of the
top left drawer. Please read these next. After that, you are free
to do as you please with this place. Take care,
Aunt Flora.
I opened up the drawer, and as directed, I found three books at the back
of the drawer. Two of them didn't have labels on them. I opened the
cover, and glanced in. They were my aunt's diaries! She wanted me to read
about her life. I guess that she wanted me to know and understand her
better.
The third book was very surprising for my aunt. I thought of her as this
little white haired lady. But this book was a XXX book. Now I was going
to read it. I considered not reading the books she requested, but
something within me told me that I needed to do it, since she gave me the
house. I owed it to her to follow her last request.
So I started with the XXX book. In each chapter, the main character (a
beautiful blond with big boobs of course) would have sex with a different
partner, with women, with men. With women *and* men at the same time,
with two men, with another woman and a man. Oral sex. Different
positions. Different kinky things like being tied up. And I experienced
them all.
By the time I was done with the book, I had decided that female orgasms
was *definitely* better than male orgasms. I could see why this was her
favorite book. You could get laid whenever you wanted, and get a big
orgasm. I was getting hooked on female orgasm now too, and if I missed a
day of reading, I felt a void within me. I needed to get laid! I needed
to feel a man up between my legs. I craved it. I had to admit that I
loved being a woman, and that I loved having sex! It freaked me out, but
it was better than drugs. And I could do it any time I wanted, as often
as I wanted. So I did.
I'd never be able to tell anyone about doing it though. And it was so
weird to have a memory in me of actually being female. It felt so
familiar when I was back as me again, but when I read the book and became
a woman, it didn't feel alien anymore. It was just another part of me.
* * *
So I started on my aunt's diaries. I would read enough of the sex book
every day to get my orgasm. Then I'd read a chapter or two in my aunt's
life.
I read through her childhood years, and experienced growing up in the
very house I lived in now. I *experienced* being a girl, and growing up
to the start of puberty. I had my first period, and I was so proud that I
was becoming a woman. I had moved into womanhood!
I lived through her marriage to my uncle Kenneth (who I had never met,
and my parents didn't speak of). Flora had been unable to conceive a baby
with him, and it was such a disappointment to her. Then Kenneth died in
the war, and she had to endure widowhood. She was so heartbroken that she
never remarried. She blamed the infertility on herself, and didn't want
to saddle another man with a wife who could have his baby. Then she had
to suffer through the heartbreak of ovarian cancer, and the long recovery
afterwards. I lived through the pain, agony and the suffering, along with
her. I was moved to tears.
It was for these reasons that the miracle of the library came to pass. A
higher power granted her this magic release, since she could not fulfill
her life's goal of being a mother. What a heartbreak for a woman not to
be able to give birth! But through the library, she could truly live
through the lives of other women, and share their joys. It was so ironic
to be her when she read a book: I was her, being someone else. But
through her experiences in the library, I lived the lives of hundreds and
hundreds of women. Again, I gave birth. I breast fed my babies. I watched
them grow up. I nurtured them. I went though the pain of losing some of
them, or the joy of watching them bloom and grow into men and women. All
these experiences filled my heart.
I started on the second book, and began living through her later years.
I went to college to earn my degree at age 50 (I didn't know she had done
that!). It was strange watching the birth of the boy named Charles, who
would grow up to be me! I saw myself as a baby, and saw myself grow up.
Since aunt Flora didn't have any children of her own, she felt a special
closeness to me. Her only sibling was my mother, and I was an only child.
So I was the one who she viewed as almost her child. That is why she had
such feelings for me; that is why she left me this place.
* * *
It was Sunday, I was eager to get back to the book and finish going
through her life. It was very interesting, and I wanted to complete the
journey through her memories. Before I went up to read, I brewed myself a
pot of tea, which was unusual for me. But I knew where the tea bags were
in the cupboard, from having lived through her life through the book. She
had always drank tea when reading, so I guess it was fitting somehow,
like a tribute.
I went upstairs, and got set up, but I was a bit chilly. It was autumn,
and the house had always been drafty, even when I had been a young girl
growing up there. So I put on my shawl, and got to reading. I made it
through the rest of her life, up until she got sick at the end and could
write no more. I was really tired, so I went to my room, put on my
nightgown, and went to sleep.
* * *
In the morning, I woke up to the bright sunlight filtering in through the
white lace curtains. But then I noticed: I had slept in my aunt's room.
And I was wearing her nightgown. Why had I done that? I tried to analyze
the situation. After thinking about it, and trying to gain an
understanding of what I was feeling, it dawned on me.
Because I had just lived her life, I had all of her memories in my head!
All of her emotions had run through my heart. All of her sensations had
been experienced by *me*. She was a part of me now, inside me. I had
lived her life too, and her memories were no different from mine. But
there was more too.
I already explained how I had been a woman many times, enjoying sex.
That was part of me also, along with all the books I had read as me (when
I was the cheerleader for example), and the ones I had read as her. All
of those thoughts, feelings, and experiences were part of me too. As
these other women, I had given birth hundreds of times for example. I
knew what it felt like, because *I* had done it. All of these
experiences were within me, because I had lived them.
My mind contained the memories of hundreds of women, plus one lonely man.
Each of the women who were in my head now, were a real part of me too.
There was no distinguishing between which memory had been one of theirs,
and which had been one of mine. They were all equal. In fact, I was
outnumbered. When I went to get dressed, I started by picking up the
man's shirt which was on the floor. I looked at it. I didn't know if I
could go out dressed in such a thing, unless I wore a skirt with it, to
make a cute outfit. It just didn't seem right to wear *men's* clothing.
A dress was a much better choice. I'd feel better in that. But I felt
naked without wearing a bra. So I went through my clothes in the dresser,
put on my panties and bra, then found my sundress, which I hadn't worn
since I was a young woman.
It dawned on me that I was in a man's body though. It just wasn't right.
I had so many memories of my female bodies from my past lives, but this
didn't quite feel right. It was just wrong! I felt so uncomfortable. I
looked at myself in the mirror, and tried to imagine that I had breasts
again. I imagined my image looking back at me to have a proper buxom bust
line.
Then a strange thing happened: my breasts began to swell, until the dress
was lifted off my chest, and the cups of my bra were filled to bursting.
The weight from my breasts in the bra caused the familiar sensation of
the straps pulling down on my shoulders. Yes! Now it was right.
I turned to the side, and admired my bust in profile. But now my
proportions were all wrong. I had no curve to my hips. Again, I imagined
the image in the mirror to have the lovely feminine curves which come
from good birthing hips, and the proportions which come from a lifetime
of absorbing estrogen. As I stared into the mirror, I was again amazed as
my form started to change, until at last, I had the hips I was accustomed
to.
Now I felt much better. I would need to shave these hairy legs, but I was
almost in shape. But my face, it was so...masculine. I imagined that I
was pretty again. I imagined that I had the soft skin, cutting eyes,
small nose, and the cute chin I remembered from my girlhood. Or at least
one of the girlhoods I had lived through.
Slowly, my features changed, until they matched the image in my head. I
was pretty again! My long strawberry blonde hair fell down below my
shoulders, just as I had remembered it. I had to touch my face to be
sure. Yes. My hands felt the soft skin of my cheek. But my hands, they
were so large and blocky. And they were attached to large arms, and big
shoulders. This would not do. I imagined the slight frame I should have,
and watched my upper body transform into a proper feminine frame. I had
the small wrists I would need to wear bracelets again. My shoulders were
small, and my arms thin.
My smaller upper body, made my breasts look even bigger but there was
still one thing wrong. Between my legs, the dress was being propped up
like a pole holding up a tent. It was embarrassing to have a bulge like
that between my legs! I set my mind to imaging my proper genitalia. And
I smiled with my pouty lips, as I saw the pole collapse, and I felt it
pull back inside me.
I imagined the uterus, ovaries, cervix, and other parts inside me which
were now re-forming themselves, putting my internal house in order, as it
were. I was hit with a head rush as the estrogen I was now producing
flowed into my bloodstream. I was a woman again! And I knew that I was
fertile this time. I would have my baby, and raise her, as I should have
all along.
It would take some time to integrate all these personalities and
perspectives within me. There was such a gush of them, that I was
somewhat of a mess, with all the overlapping memories and experiences. I
would read my early diary again a few times to ground myself in who I
was. I had come to enjoy living through the other women in the books in
my later years. It let me have a sense of who I really wanted to be. But
the problem was I always knew how the book would end.
But now, I was free to write new chapters in my book. I had a new start.
I tried to find poor Charles, who was still somewhere within me but he
must have been overwhelmed by all the women who came streaming into his
mind at once. He was in here somewhere, but I could not find anything of
him at this moment. Perhaps it was all the emotions running in me; being
a man, he could not relate to it, so perhaps he became lost as we came
in. Or perhaps he was still here in the primal parts of the brain, and I
could find him. Oh how'd I'd love to talk with him. I would apologize for
what I did to him, but he would understand. He loved me, and I'm sure
he'd be happy that I was again a young woman.
I would remember that this had once been his body, although it was fully
female now. I would take care of it for him, and try to live to a ripe
old age again. If I was lucky enough to have a child, I would name it
'Charles' after him if it was a boy. Perhaps some of him would wind up in
my new baby. But now that I had bloomed, I was Floraagain.
In either case, I needed to move on, find a man, and get started. My
biological clock was ticking, and I had not time to waste...
Fawn
- 06.11.2022
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