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What Really Happened Was... free porn video
What really happened was...
By Donna Dee
This story dates back to just after the second world war -
try as I may I cannot remember exactly when, but that's not
really important. I didn't graduate, I finished school at
17 when I was orphaned and needed to work. I had just
started my first job as a cub reporter in the offices of
our principal local newspaper but so far my duties had been
those of a gopher, (Go For). My name is Kenneth T. Clarke
and I was as keen as mustard to make an impression and
perhaps be allowed to submit a story or two, consequently I
kept my eyes open at all times. Things went well for me; I
had the occasional girlfriend though I wasn't sufficiently
experienced to get them into my flat and thus my male
virginity was still intact.
The incident I want to tell you about began a few days
before Christmas - quite a lot of us were at the staff
party, but with me being still fairly new to the job and
being somewhat introverted, I hadn't really wanted to go. I
didn't have a girl friend at the time and one of the more
senior male reporters, Brian Cull, (he was about 25) was
pulling my leg about him taking ME home! At least I hoped
he was pulling my leg. One thing I didn't like about the
job was that all the senior reporters, editors and
copywriters thought they were the cream on top of the milk,
we juniors had to call them Mr. Cull, Mr. Jones, Mrs.
Jacobs or Miss Lane or whatever, whereas they only ever
used surnames when they yelled for a boy across a busy
office. All day long it was Clarke get this - Clarke take
that - Clarke go and get - and while I was by now used to
it, it grated a bit when they still called me Clarke at the
Christmas party. It was mainly for this reason that I made
to leave just after 10 pm and was collecting my coat when I
became aware of an older woman collecting hers at the same
time. She was about my mother's age, (maybe 35 to 40, but
that's just a guess) her manner suggested she was top
management at least but whether or not she was I still
treated her with proper respect as I had been brought up to
do.
I took another look, I couldn't remember seeing her before
- but then again it was a very large building with several
hundred staff - but this lady was exceptionally attractive,
even to my young eyes. She had long blonde hair,
beautifully styled, a lovely smiling face, a halter neck
dress that just about covered her gorgeous breasts while
leaving her back bare to the waist - no bra of course, and
the 3/4 length skirt she wore was split to the waist on
four sides showing she had magnificent legs atop her 5-inch
heels and even provided me with a quick glimpse of her
panties (the same colour as the dress) every time she
moved. It fair made me sweat, I can tell you. Her make up
was perfect, especially her mouth, which was heavily coated
with the reddest, juiciest looking lipstick, I had ever
seen in my life. I thought briefly of the mess I'd like to
make of that, given half a chance.
I wished I were ten years older or that she were ten years
younger - (or both) because for all the difference in our
ages she had already made me very hard just by purring my
name.
"Hello Clarke, how's it going?"
I was surprised she knew me, but then I realised I was
still wearing my name badge which, like everyone else's,
gave the surname first and given names last. It was because
she too had used my surname I presumed she was one of the
bosses and because she wasn't wearing a badge herself.
I could only reply, "Fine, thanks."
I helped her on with her coat, she smiled her thanks and as
I donned my bomber jacket I heard one of the waiters
telling her she would have to wait another half an hour or
so for a taxi - it was a very busy night, hardly surprising
just before Christmas. Purely out of politeness, because
obviously there was no chance of my getting off with a
walking, living, breathing sensation like her, I offered
her a lift that to my surprise she immediately accepted. As
it happened she only lived a mile or so away from me
anyway. I was a bit embarrassed by the fact that my car was
something of a wreck, but it was all I could afford on my
meagre salary and it was too late to worry about that now -
but at least the heater worked and we were comfortably warm
throughout the twenty-minute journey.
She directed me north - I followed the main road for some 6
miles until we left the town behind.
"It's only another half mile or so Clarke, slow down a bit,
ah yes, here it is."
As far as I could see we were out in the country, I could
see no houses, until she pointed to a shadowy outline of a
building that looked more like an old barn than a posh
house among some trees about a hundred yards off the road.
I felt very foolish when I switched off the engine only for
her to refuse my offer to escort her to her door.
"That won't be necessary, but thank you anyway," she
smiled, then leant towards me and kissed me on the lips -
gently at first but firmly enough to make it clear that she
wouldn't mind if it continued a while longer.
It felt so good that after about ten seconds I slipped my
right arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, she
didn't resist and began to kiss me even harder. I felt her
tongue part my lips and flick around my teeth, it felt
fantastic; her passion matched mine as we seemingly fought
to establish mastery of the occasion. She showed no sign of
wanting to stop and though we paused for breath
occasionally, during which time I held her tightly against
me, (her arm was wrapped around my neck too) we were
quickly at it again, mouths open wide and tongues shooting
back and forth as if competing in some fencing competition;
I promise you she was as eager as I was.
I couldn't think while in the throes of passion or I might
have realised I was at best a candidate to be her latest
toy boy, but even if I had thought about it I would still
have carried on because I was getting a lesson in kissing
that I'd never forget. Eventually it had to stop of course,
to my amazement it had lasted around an hour already, but
she still refused my offer to see her to her door and
insisted I stay in the car while she threaded her way along
an unmade path alone. I couldn't just let her go without
saying something, and a simple 'thank you very much' seemed
totally inadequate, but I didn't know what to say that
wouldn't sound presumptuous or idiotic, given the age
difference.
I had discovered her name was Helen and I stumbled over my
words (and felt extremely foolish) as I asked if I could
see her again and I could hardly believe my luck when,
after she'd thought about it for a few seconds, she
replied, "Yes, all right then Clarke, why not? Thank you,
I'd like that very much. I've no husband to worry about and
I don't suppose you have a wife yet, but even so perhaps we
should go somewhere quiet; you know, just the two of us;
people might talk, say you are my toy boy or something
equally rude."
"I don't really care what they say, Helen, I'd still love
to see you again. I do have a flat. Perhaps we could watch
TV or something."
"The or something sounds nicest," she smiled as she kissed
me again and laid her hand on the huge bulge in my
trousers. "Besides, it looks like we'll have to take care
of that before much longer, doesn't it?" She smiled
suggestively as she got out of the car; "Pick me up here
tomorrow, about seven," she said and turned to walk up to
the house - a house I could still hardly see even though my
eyes had got used to the dark, what's more I saw no light
come on through the door or window when she got to it.
It took me several minutes of deep breathing exercises to
get myself fit to drive home, my thoughts being centred
entirely on Helen and why she'd be interested in a mere boy
like me - not that I was complaining. I showered and got
into bed and, since it seemed I was on a promise, found it
essential to relieve the pressure in my groin, but even
that happened far too quickly to give real satisfaction.
At work the following day I said nothing to anyone about my
new lady friend, I felt sure, hoped even that someone had
seen me with her, I'd have been so proud, but no one
mentioned it if they did. Comments were being made about
the party, some had stayed there drinking all night and
there was talk about who got off with who, but no one
seemed to have noticed Helen - perhaps just as well because
if someone older had fancied her I'd have got nowhere - at
least that's how it seemed to me.
At lunchtime I went shopping for some wine and some food -
just snacks I thought should be adequate. That evening I
drove to the spot where I dropped her off - and to my
surprise she was there waiting for me. We kissed - fairly
briefly - and she suggested we get to my place as quickly
as possible. I looked at her frequently as I drove, and
every time I did she was gazing at me with eyes full of
love - or was that just wishful thinking on my part? I
thought about how lovely she was and I remember thinking
that she no longer seemed quite as old as she had the
previous night but perhaps I was getting used to her or
else I was mistaken last night. When we arrived at my flat
we scampered upstairs as eagerly as teenagers in love, she
ran as quickly as I did in spite of the age gap, and it
wasn't long before we were both naked and in my bed making
the most wonderful love imaginable - far better than
anything I had ever imagined or read about because until
then I had been a virgin.
Helen stayed all night - I know I didn't go to sleep
because neither did I and I counted seven times that we
made love - each one better than the time before as she
instructed me in what to do and how to do it. I gave her
head - she gave me a blowjob and by the time morning came I
know I was satisfying her as much as myself, what's more I
wasn't in the least bit tired. As daylight came we lay
side-by-side, facing each other, touching each other
intimately, whispering sweet nothings and exchanging small
kisses every few seconds. She was smiling in such a way
that I really thought she was as much in love with me as I
unquestionably was with her. I wanted her to really love me
that is for sure, however improbable it seemed.
"Time you went to work," she smiled eventually, showing no
sign of getting up to go herself.
"Helen," I said, "I feel like the luckiest man in the world
to have had your love for a whole night like this, and I
don't want it to end."
"Neither do I Clarke, though it must eventually, you do
realise that, don't you?"
"Common sense tells me something as good as this can't last
forever, though I wish it could. Helen, why do you keep
calling me Clarke, my name is Ken."
"Is it? But your name badge said Clarke KenT. I thought Ken
was your surname, but in any case I like Clarke better so I
am going to keep calling you that, if you don't mind; you
don't mind, do you?"
"Not if it's what you want to do." And then I asked the
question that had been buzzing away at my sub conscious
ever since Saturday night; "Which department do you work
in?"
Helen laughed - it was more of an amused chuckle really. "I
don't work for the paper, Clarke."
"Then how come you were at the staff Christmas Party?"
"To meet you, of course. Now, you ask too many questions.
Be satisfied with the present, Clarke, until something
better comes along. Just leave the future to me."
What was that supposed to mean? Leave the future to her? I
thought it better to let the subject drop. "What could
possibly be better than this?" I asked, cuddling in to her
once more.
"You are so sweet, do you know that, Clarke? But fate has
something really special coming your way quite soon. It's
true," she insisted as I went to protest that I would much
rather my life be with her no matter what.
"We still have a few days we can spend together during
which we can make love as often as you like and then I will
start to explain what's going to happen."
"Are you a fortune teller then, Helen?"
"Good gracious me no, Clarke, I have far greater powers
than that as you will soon see for yourself. Go to work now
and I will be here waiting for you when you come back. Oh
yes, can you go on the bus? I'd like to borrow your car to
fetch my things."
Jumping firecrackers, she was going to move in with me!
"Oh, Helen, wait until this evening then I will help you
fetch them, it's the least I can do."
"You mean you'd rather help me fetch a suitcase this
evening when we could be here together making love? That's
not much of a compliment! But anyway, I don't need your
help, darling, it's only a little case and I can manage it
quite easily."
"You said you'd look different, how different will you
look? - And why? I like you just as you are. Are you really
going to move in with me, Helen?"
"Yes, just for a few days, if you'll have me. Now, I have
told you once already that you ask too many questions so be
off with you." She sounded just like my Mum then.
"You said earlier you were not a fortune teller, that you
had far greater powers than that, what kind of powers,
Helen?"
"I am a witch, darling, a fully paid up member of W.A.W.A.,
(Witches and Warlocks Amalgamated), a card carrying,
broomstick riding witch. It's true," she laughed as she saw
the doubt in my eyes.
"You don't look like a witch."
"How many witches have you seen then, Clarke?"
"If you really are a witch then how can I be sure? I
thought witches wore pointed black hats, that they were
wrinkled old women with long noses, big black warts and a
horrid laugh."
"I can look like that if you want me to, but before you say
yes, just remember you will still have to make love to me
tonight, warts and all."
"No, I'll believe you; where's your broomstick?"
"It's at my house, that's why I need your car today, now
will you please stop asking so many questions?"
She refused to say more, and so I reluctantly set off for
work, wishing the hours away until 5 pm when I could get
back to her. I realised I was starving hungry so popped
into a burger bar for an early breakfast, wondering what
Helen would do for food.
When I did get back to my flat that afternoon, she did
indeed look very different - younger again, maybe about 25
and this time I was quite sure of my facts. She was wearing
a completely different outfit, extremely formal and with
her hair piled up on top - professionally done of course as
was the makeover. She then suggested we went out to dinner
first. First? That sounded promising. Helen told me to put
on my dinner jacket, I said I didn't have one at which she
laughed.
"Of course you have one, Clarke, now go put it on, there's
a good boy."
When I went into the bedroom there was indeed a dinner suit
in my wardrobe and it was a perfect fit. She had me in that
frame of mind now that I expected nothing less.
It was in a very up-market restaurant we had our meal, with
wine, and I was dreading the bill, but thank the lord I had
my American Express card, just in case. When I took out my
wallet to pay there was a wad of high denomination
banknotes in the fold. She smiled demurely and simply
winked. If I hadn't been so besotted with her I'd have been
starting to worry.
For the rest of that week we ate well every evening and
made love all night - I really didn't sleep at all, but in
the end I had to demand that she told me what was going on
- she looked younger every day and I loved her - I really
loved her, more and more and more. This just had to last
forever.
It was the day before New Years Eve that she dropped the
first of her bombshells.
We had been making love for a couple of hours, (and, of
course for a full week), less urgently now that I knew it
was going to last all night, but equally satisfying for
both of us. We were nevertheless both panting and soaked in
sweat when she asked me if I had ever worn a girl's
clothes. I was stunned at the suggestion for I had truly
never considered doing anything of the kind, besides it
wasn't so widespread in those days.
"Why would I want to do that?"
"Because you are so very beautiful and I think you'd make a
lovely looking girl."
"Well the answer is no - I never have and I have never
wanted to. Besides, with you to love, I would be extremely
stupid to do so."
"Oh I understand your reluctance, but I think you would
really enjoy the experience, so will you try dressing up,
please, as a special favour, just for me?"
What the hell did I answer now? I'd have cut my arm off to
please her if she really wanted me to, so how could I say
no. "You mean that you really want to dress me up, Helen?"
"Yes," she replied emphatically, "I really want to dress
you up, darling."
"But I wont have to go outside, will I," I asked,
nervously.
"Perhaps not, certainly not straight away, but I think
you'll like it when you try it and will be delighted to go
out with me dressed as my girlfriend."
Oh my goodness - I was terrified at the thought, especially
if I went out with her and that senior reporter that wanted
to take me home from the Christmas party happened to see me
- I'd never live it down.
"All right," I replied, "If that's what you want, you know
I'll do anything you ask of me, don't you?"
"Wonderful darling, thank you, and if you're worried about
somebody reading you then you needn't be. No one will
recognise you, I promise and you wont regret it, I promise
you that as well. We'll start in the morning. Now then,
make love to me again, it's been nearly an hour since you
did."
It was just as well she was a fantastic lover because that
enabled me to forget what tomorrow held, or rather to stop
imagining what it might have in store. We did it in four
different positions, added a fair measure of oral
stimulation and ending up with a good old fashioned me on
top finale.
We stopped just before eight - and for Helen it was
straight down to the business of dressing me up.
"Come on Clarke, we've a lot to do." Her orders came thick
and fast - "Into the bath with you," (water heavily scented
of course) "then an all over shave, legs, arms, underarms
and toes."
Much to my surprise I enjoyed it, especially when she
inspected my ass and removed a few hairs from it. This was
followed by a body massage (heavenly) as she kneaded all my
joints, soothing the razor burn with a cooling lotion.
Smiling, she held up a flimsy pair of panties - pink of
course, a padded bra, a garter belt, a full-length slip and
a half petticoat, all silky and lacy. I tried hard not to
purr too loudly over the silky feel of the panties and I
refused to admit how good they felt against my skin when
she rolled the nylon stockings up my legs and then she
clipped them to the garter belt, stretching them so tightly
that I thought they might split. Then she made me sit on
the dining chair she had brought in from the lounge. Helen
began to brush my hair, which was, in my case worn fairly
short, and yet it gradually got longer and longer the more
she brushed it and soon it comfortably touched my shoulder
blades. There was some kind of magic afoot, of that I was
certain as I watched her pull it into a high ponytail and
fix it with a pink rubber band. Then I almost had a fit as
she plucked my eyebrows quite severely. I protested that
she shouldn't make me too feminine yet - that this was only
a trial.
"Poof," she said, "you won't want to go back to being a boy
again my dear."
Not go back? Did she want me to change permanently? Was
cross-dressing just a preliminary trial?
She began to make-up my face, foundation, rouge, eye make
up, all applied sparingly and just a little lipstick before
she helped me into a frilly dress that made me feel like a
school girl. When she allowed me to look at my reflection I
felt quite happy with how pretty I looked until I realised
that I looked younger than ever - about 12 or 13 maybe.
"Why have you made me look like a school girl?" I demanded.
"Don't be alarmed, Clarke, no one is going to see you like
this, I promise. If you are going to look like a girl you
have to feel like a girl and you can't do that overnight as
it were. To be convincing you need practice and you need to
experience the delights of femininity, you need to enjoy
the delights of growing up from puberty to the present day
and that's just what you're going to do now."
What happened next was truly amazing. Helen told me to
stand where I was and watch myself in the full-length
mirror I didn't even know I had. Suddenly my clothes
changed, the ponytail vanished as my hair was dressed down
to my shoulders and there was a ribbon in it; my shoes had
a slightly higher heel too - I actually felt myself grow.
Five seconds later I changed again - same hairstyle, dark
skirt and white jumper, black bead necklace, Alice band and
black shoes. It was just like looking at a photograph album
in which there was a picture of every day of my life from
when I was 12 to the present day, except that it was
actually happening to me - live!
I was shown over 2000 pictures of myself in hundreds of
different female outfits - only they weren't pictures, they
were reflections of me as I was magically changed into one
outfit after another, hair style after hairstyle; every few
seconds I was dressed in different clothes. I caught
several glimpses of myself in these dresses as I glanced
down from time to time. Each day of the year I was dressed
in something different, as I undoubtedly would have been
had it been real. I wore different school uniforms as I
went through my freshman and sophomore years, different
formal and casual clothes, shoes with heels that got
gradually higher and higher, heavier and more elaborate
make up and expensive looking jewellery.
It took over 3 hours to see all the reflections. Each
scene, if that's the right word, was on show for about 5 or
6 seconds, but when I was dressed up specially, for my
first prom for instance, with my (now) very long hair piled
up on top, I was able to see myself for maybe 10 or 12
seconds. When we got up to the current date I was in a
superb outfit befitting an 18-year-old young lady, and I
really was wearing it and I felt beautiful. The images I
had seen depicted me with blonde, dark brown and red hair,
getting longer and then, occasionally being cut and I
really didn't know which I liked best. I had seen myself
wearing all shades of lipstick and eye shadow - they all
seemed lovely with the clothes I'd had on at the time.
Nevertheless I still didn't know why all this was happening
to me.
"I don't understand, Helen, why do you want to turn me into
a girl?"
"I hoped you might want to make the change of your own free
will once you saw how fantastic you could look, but you are
right, Clarke, I do have to change you, which is why I was
sent to see you. I do accept you are entitled to know why I
must turn you into a woman before I actually do, so listen
carefully.
"I imagine now that you believe me when I say I'm a witch
and you probably realise that I'm not the only one, there
are thousands of witches in this world, all under the
control of the Grand Wizard all dating back to the dark
ages, but created to do good. However, it seems we have
enemies who wish to harm mankind with forces that a mere
witch cannot hope to defeat and so he is sending in someone
from another planet to combat this evil. Because this
person is an alien he needs a human body, and we are going
to give him yours."
"Why mine?"
"You were chosen because of where you work and because you
have no relatives to confuse matters when you become a girl
- it's as simple as that. The alien will take over your
body and life style, you will take on Veronica's, she will
move to her new life and so on. Think of it as if you were
buying a house, a chain reaction if you like until we get
back to a baby, someone who you could think of as a first
time buyer.
"Who's Veronica?"
"I've told you before, you ask too many questions. Veronica
is the girl you will become and that's all you need to
know. One of my colleagues is preparing her for her change
even as we speak."
"What will become of her?"
"That doesn't concern you," she almost snapped. "But let's
get back to our alien; like everybody he is vulnerable to
certain things and it is essential he remain incognito, so
it has been arranged that he will take over your name and
persona at The Daily Planet where he will work with your
former colleague Lois. Unfortunately I misread your badge
and so his name is going to be Clarke KenT while he is in
the office, but when the need arises, he will change into
something quite phenomenal to do his world saving work,
then revert to your name and position when the job is done.
That, in a nutshell is why you have to become someone else,
so at least you now know the reason why. Your memory of
this and what I've just told you will be eradicated in due
course."
"But I don't understand why I must be a female."
"I have done this kind of thing before, Clarke, - many
times and for many different reasons. If I changed you into
another man your subconscious personalities would clash
from time to time and so the only changes that really work
are when the subject male is changed into a woman, because
being a woman is so much more enjoyable than being a man.
Do you need me to explain or has my little demonstration
convinced you?"
"Standing here with you now in these lovely clothes, with
my hair looking so nice and this makeup on my face I am
inclined to believe you are right - actually I am sure you
are right as far as clothes are concerned, but there is
more to life than just appearance, isn't there? I cannot
imagine loving a man in the same way I have loved you these
last few days, nor do women earn the kind of money a man
can make, so my standard of living will fall, wont it?"
"Oh Clarke, you don't think I'd let you be disadvantaged
after all we've meant to each other, do you? You will
become an attractive young lady doing a job you will love,
even though it is completely different to anything you can
imagine at the moment, it might not appeal to you as a male
but trust me, it will appeal to your feminine side. By way
of thanks you will have a posh new apartment and you will
earn far more than you do at present."
"But that means I shall lose you, and that's unthinkable. I
love you Helen."
"And I love you, but we were never intended to be a
permanent couple. You will forget me..."
"Never."
"... You WILL forget me, just as you will forget all that's
happened between us. But Clarke, I shall never forget you
and I will take care of you for the rest of your life. I
will look in on you from time to time, even though you
won't know me, so in reality our parting is just
temporary."
"Just temporary?" I asked, hopefully.
"Well, no, not really, but it will be temporary if you need
me, and I will be the judge of whether your need is genuine
or not. All kinds of things might happen. Anyway, we have a
few days yet to get you used to being a girl and I don't
intend to take your Willy away until the very last minute,
so get that dress off and come back to bed."
We made love again and again and then I had an idea. "If I
MUST be a woman and since you are obviously a very senior
witch, why can't you become a warlock?" I asked
"Now why didn't I think of that," she smiled.
To be continued...
I apologise to those purist's who put their own
interpretation as to the identity of the characters in this
story and who may, therefore, regard some parts of it as a
blasphemous misrepresentation...
Grace
- 03.12.2020
- 14
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