The Chapford Wives free porn video

THE CHAPFORD WIVES by BobH (c) 2005 "You're going too fast!" shouted Jeff Collins as his wife stepped on the gas, her long dark hair streaming in the wind behind her. Hester Collins just laughed, eyes flashing, enjoying his discomfort. Young, beautiful, and impetuous, Hester had a wild, devilish side to her. It was what had attracted Jeff to her in the first place, but he was not enjoying this (literally) white knuckle ride. Fall was always special in New England, but Jeff was unable to appreciate its beauty as it sped by them. "We'll soon be there, darling," grinned Hester. "In fact, there's the turning, now." Without slowing, she executed a handbrake turn, the rear of the car swinging out wide as they took the turn, a spray of gravel shooting into the roadside foliage. "Jeez, Hester!" shouted Jeff, to be answered by that familiar throaty laugh. Hester was having the time of her life. They had turned off I-95 a couple of miles earlier, but this was the turn that would take them to their ultimate destination: the small, ultra-exclusive, gated community of Chapford. Jeff had never seen the place but, following their whirlwind romance and their wedding, Hester had been mad keen on moving back east. Essex County, Massachusetts was apparently where her family came from, and she was eager to reconnect with her roots. As a writer, Jeff could base himself pretty much anywhere, and since Hester was the one with the money - she ran an online brokerage firm called Cromwell Investments - and was picking up all the relocation costs, he was happy to go along with this. It also did not hurt that he had been suffering from writer's block since before they had met; a change of scenery might be just what he needed to break through it. When Hester had first broached the subject of their leaving California, Jeff had looked up Chapford on the web. He had found nothing on the gated community itself but had turned up references to the former town of Chapford a few miles from it that had burned down in mysterious circumstances in 1704. He assumed the new community was named for that old town and, if so, he approved. Local and historical continuity was important. "And here we are!" said Hester, as the car screeched to a halt in front of an impressive set of wrought iron gates. "Welcome to our new home! Welcome to Chapford!" So saying, she pulled an infra-red remote from the glove compartment, flashed it at the gates, and drove through as they opened. Chapford was set in a very large natural clearing in the middle of a lush wood and contained only six houses, arranged in a rough circle around a small, central park. In the centre of the park was a jutting outcrop of rock with a gentle slope on one side and a steep drop on the other. Left balanced on top of this outcrop, presumably by retreating glaciers, was a flat rock. Roughly square in shape, it was about twenty feet wide. "Wow, this place really is exclusive!" said Jeff, wonderingly. "Only six houses, but man those are some houses!" Every one of them was virtually a mansion, each built in its own distinct yet tasteful architectural style. They oozed money and class. "Wait'll you see inside," grinned Hester, as the car raced up the drive of a Spanish-style, neo-colonial mansion of the sort more usually found on the west coast, screeching to a halt in front of the garage door with inches to spare. As the car stopped she leapt out and threw open the house's heavy, antique front door. By the time Jeff joined her inside she was already pouring herself a Scotch. Dropping into a deep leather armchair and lighting a cigarette, she gestured expansively at the massive lounge. "So what do you think?" she asked, exhaling a long stream of smoke. "It's...amazing!" said Jeff. And it was. From the hand-crafted furnishings, to the expensive Oriental rugs; the framed originals hanging on the walls, and the enormous plasma-screen TV and home cinema system in one corner, it was like an advertisement for modern opulence. "Check out the rest of the house," said Hester. "I think you'll be impressed." Jeff explored the study first, the private sanctum where he expected to be doing much of his writing from now on. His computer and peripherals had been set up on the heavy, highly polished oak desk in the center of the room, his large book collection all shelved in correct order in the floor-to-ceiling bookcases that lined the walls. There was also a state of the art audio system and plasma screen to match those in the main lounge. Impressive, but likely to be a distraction from what he regarded as the holy chore of writing. The kitchen was vast and well appointed, with all the food preparation devices Jeff had ever heard of, and several more besides; the games room contained a beautifully made, red-baize pool table, several old- style pinball machines, and the latest arcade video games - another potential distraction from writing. At the rear of the house was a large, heated indoor swimming pool with a retractable glass roof that would keep out the cold New England winter. Upstairs, Jeff whistled when he saw their bed in the master bedroom. It was huge, the biggest bed he had ever seen, a bed that looked as if it had been made to hold six people rather than two. The ceiling above it was mirrored, which made Jeff grin, and the room contained the same high-specification audio and TV systems as his study. The guest bedrooms, while containing smaller beds, were similarly equipped, and all had en-suite showers and toilets. This would be their home from now on. Jeff knew he could have done a lot worse. "OK, I'm impressed," he said, when he returned to the lounge. Hester got up and they embraced. With that firm young body pressed against him, that luscious mouth seeking his own, Jeff was reminded again of what had first attracted him to Hester. He could not believe his good fortune in finding a woman like her. She was a dream come true. The only thing that puzzled him was what she saw in a struggling writer like him. Their clinch probably would have turned into something more had the doorbell not rung at that moment. Opening the front door, Jeff was confronted by a tall, good-looking guy and a young woman in jeans and a T-shirt who bore a striking resemblance to his wife. "Meg!" shrieked Hester, sweeping past him and embracing the other woman. So this was Hester's sister. Their whirlwind romance and spur of the moment Vegas chapel wedding meant Jeff had never met Meg before, but he had certainly heard about his wife's only living relative. "Hi, I'm John Stanley," said the man, holding his hand out. "I'm your neighbour and your brother-in-law." "Jeff Collins," said Jeff, shaking John's hand. "This day has been one shock after another. Hester didn't mention her sister would be one of our neighbours." "I wanted it to be a surprise, darling," said Hester. "Now say hello to my little sister." "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Meg," he said, giving her a quick hug and kissing her on the cheek. "You too, Jeff," she replied. "You were right, sis," she said, turning and grinning at her sibling, "he is very handsome." "Shall I call the others over?" said John, pulling out his cellphone. "We're a very small community, so we can get all the introductions out of the way in one go." "Why not," shrugged Jeff, after Hester had nodded her agreement, "let's do it." While John was phoning the other residents of Chapford, Meg and Hester sat down on the sofa and started chatting away animatedly, each catching up on what the other had been doing since they had last been together. This gave John an opportunity to casually study them together. Meg was about an inch taller than her sister, almost as beautiful and, if Jeff recalled correctly, a year younger. That would make her thirty-three years old to Hester's thirty-four, not that either woman looked it. Both could easily pass for ten years younger. Indeed, though he was twenty-five, Jeff was usually assumed by people who met them to be older than his wife. Jeff had met Hester in his native San Francisco in a bar, of all places. As soon as their eyes met, her interest in him was immediately apparent. Two weeks later, on a weekend trip to Las Vegas, they were married. By an Elvis impersonator. It was not the sort of ceremony Jeff would have chosen, but Hester was tickled by the idea and talked him into it. He was so smitten with her she could have talked him into almost anything. "Owww!" This was Meg. She had caught her finger on a pin that had been left in the fabric of the sofa when the movers had uncovered it. It was a small scratch that momentarily oozed blood, before sealing itself. As Jeff watched, all sign the scratch had even been there swiftly faded, leaving smooth unblemished skin. His eyes widened at this remarkable feat of accelerated healing, even though it was something he had witnessed before. Hester had the same impressive powers of recuperation, so it must be a family thing. Jeff was about to comment on this when the doorbell rang. "That was fast," said John, opening the front door. "I only just finished ringing round. Guess everyone's really keen to meet you both." Four couples, the other residents of Chapford, entered the house, John Stanley introducing them as they did so. "This here's Frank and Mary Keen," he said, "Frank's in real estate. Bill and Pru Harrold - Bill's a CPA - while these are Craig and Abi Hunter. Craig's a former football pro who now runs his own sporting goods business and, as you can see, towers over the rest of us. And bringing up the rear we have Randy and Elspeth Danson. Randy is a lawyer." During the round of handshakes polite greetings and inconsequential initial small talk that followed, Jeff made a quick, brief assessment of his new neighbours. The men were all very good-looking, as was John Stanley and - he supposed - himself. (Was that the Chapford women's main requirement in a husband, he wondered?) The women were all beautiful and immaculately turned out, their hair and make-up perfect, uniformly clad in high heels, very feminine dresses with large floaty skirts, and tasteful pearl jewellery. Unlike Hester and her sister, these newcomers also radiated what Jeff could only describe as a sort of joyous subservience to their husbands. It was there in the way they deferred to them, never interrupting them when they spoke or offering an opinion of their own, and clearly visible in the adoration with which they regarded their spouses. It struck Jeff as more than a little disturbing. "Where are my manners?" said Jeff, shaking himself out of it. "What's everyone drinking? And I'm sure we can rustle up some snacks." "Hey, you've only just arrived," said Craig Hunter, who was in the process of lighting an enormous cigar, "so don't you go putting yourself out on our account. Abi here and the other girls'll see to it, won't you, hon?" Abi Hunter nodded, gave her husband a dazzling smile, then she and the other three newly-arrived wives turned as one and headed for the kitchen, full skirts swishing and heels tapping on the hardwood floor. Jeff exchanged a quick glance with John Stanley, who gave him a troubled frown, then looked at his wife and her sister, who were still sitting together on the sofa. They were watching the other four wives heading for the kitchen. For some reason both seemed deeply amused by the sight, their smiles almost gleeful. "Can I talk to you in the kitchen for a minute?" asked John later, when the swirl of conversation and socializing found them momentarily talking alone. Jeff nodded, and they slipped out to the kitchen. "Notice anything weird about the merry wives of Chapford?" said John. "Well, apart from Meg and Hester, they're kind of creepily subservient to their husbands," said Jeff. "Yeah," agreed John, "but they weren't always that way. When we first came here, it was only Pru Harrold and Elspeth Danson that were like that. Mary Crowe and Abi Hunter were feisty, independent career women. In fact Abi was kind of butch, never wore dresses or make-up and carried herself like a man. Now look at them. First Abi joined the Barbie dolls, then Pru. Both gave up their careers so they could cater to their husbands' every whim full-time. It's like this thing, whatever it is, is contagious. I just hope neither Hester nor Meg catches it." "Amen," said Jeff, with a shudder. He liked strong-minded, independent women. The last thing he wanted was a subservient Barbie doll. "Ah, here you are," said Hester, sweeping into the kitchen, "and what have you two been plotting together?" "Oh, just the usual," smiled Jeff, "you know: the overthrow of the current administration, the installation of a government of artists and intellectuals in their place, and a program of massive investment to find a cure for male pattern baldness." "Mmmm, I'd vote for that", grinned Hester, sliding her arms around his waist, "though it's not a problem any of you gorgeous Chapford men have. Anyway, sweetie, the reason I came looking for you is it's getting late and everyone's heading home. Given how a long a day it's been, we probably ought to hit the sack, too." Now that she mentioned it, Jeff did feel tired, much tireder than he had realized. Sleep suddenly seemed like a really good idea. "You're right, Hester," said John, kissing her on the cheek, "Meg and I probably ought to turn in, too." "G'night, Jeff," he said shaking Jeff's hand. "It was good to meet you." "You too," said Jeff. "I'm sure we'll become fast friends." It seemed to Jeff later, that no sooner had he and Hester gone upstairs to their bedroom, undressed and hit the bed, than he fell asleep. And once asleep, he dreamed. He dreamed that he was looking down on the flat stone atop the rocky outcrop in the park. Lying on the stone were John and Meg Stanley. She was fidgetting and smiling where he lay rigidly still, a look of fear in his eyes. Hands came into view, their owner being outside Jeff's field of vision, and placed a small Ruby on John's forehead and a matching emerald on Meg's. The hands then made a complicated motion in the air, causing the couple to fall asleep, their faces now looking matched in repose. As John watched, so both gems started to gradually change colour until the ruby had turned green and the emerald red. At this, John woke, or perhaps dreamed he did. It was the middle of the night and Hester was gone from their bed. Glancing out the window, he saw Hester, Meg and the men of Chapford walking down gently-sloped side of the rocky outcrop in slow procession. They were all dressed in what looked like blood-red monk's robes with a strange runic symbol on the chest, picked out in black. All were carrying a burning torch. As he watched, so Hester turned, as if sensing his eyes upon them. Seeing him at the window, she frowned, then made a strange gesture in the air between them. At this, so Jeff felt everything fade away, felt himself falling, falling.... ....until he woke with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed. He was bathed in sweat, which glistened in the strong sunlight of early Fall streaming in through the window. "Wha's up, honey?" came a sleepy voice from beside him. His sudden energetic awakening had also woken Hester, who was staring up at him blearily. "I had the weirdest dream," said Jeff. "It was so vivid, so real." "First night sleeping in a new house," said Hester. "It'll do that to you. So what was this dream? Do you remember any details?" "Pretty much all of them, I think," said Jeff, who then described the scene to her in detail. "Wow!" she said when he'd finished. "With an imagination like that, I can see why you became a writer." "The funny thing is, I'm sure I've seen that symbol you had on your robes somewhere before." "Wouldn't surprise me," said Hester. "Dreams often incorporate stuff we've seen in the waking world." While Hester was showering, Jeff went online and did a websearch. He had a hunch he had seen the symbol on the web recently, and as his fingers flew over the keyboard, he remembered where. It was on one of the historical sites he had come across while searching for information on Chapford. Within two minutes he had found it: THE CHAPFORD MYSTERY Beneath the heading was a scan of a contemporary woodcut depicting the sign found burned into the bark of a tree near the entrance to the village of Chapford after the fire that destroyed it. It was the same symbol Jeff had seen in his dream. 'The fate of Chapford is usually regarded as little more than a footnote to the events that happened in nearby Salem a dozen years earlier,' began the text. 'Indeed, few today have even heard of the village. Yet the events of the night of September 3rd, 1704 have never been properly explained and are worthy of further investigation.' Today was September 2nd, 2004, Jeff noted. Which meant tomorrow was the three hundredth anniversary of the destruction of the original Chapford. He returned his attention to the computer screen: 'The village of Chapford had been established some thirty years earlier and was named for the man who owned the land it sat on, Lord William Chapford. This was one of several large tracts he owned in the area, though there is no evidence that he ever visited these or any of his other possessions in the colonies, which were managed for him by his agents. At the time of the fire, Chapford was home to around fifteen families, representing a population of over a hundred people, all of whom are believed to have perished. With no one surviving to tell the tale, we can only speculate as to the cause of the fire. Whatever it was, the fire burned hot enough to reduce the entire village and everyone in it to ashes. Which raises two important questions: one, what could have caused such an inferno; and two, why didn't the inhabitants flee the village when the fire started? Could it really have been so sudden and so all encompassing that no one was able to escape it? Then there's the mysterious symbol found burned into the bark of a tree...' "Looking at anything interesting?" said Hester, entering the room and towelling her hair vigorously. "Not really, no," said Jeff, casually shutting the browser window and wondering why he didn't want his wife seeing what he had been reading. "Did you say you were driving into Salem today?" "Yes," said Hester, "there's some business I need to take care of, a few contracts to sign. Why do you ask?" "I've never visited it before," said Jeff. "I'd like to wander around and get a feel for the place. What with its history and us now living in the area, I'm sure to use it in my writing soon." "OK, sure," said Hester. "I'll drop you off, and after my meeting we can have a meal together at a restaurant I know." Once again, Jeff was concealing things from his wife. He brooded on this during the drive, trying to find a reason for it. If Hester was concerned by her husband's silence during their journey, she did not comment on it. When she dropped him off in the center of Salem, Jeff wasted no time soaking in the ambiance of the place and instead headed straight for the main library. If records from the original Chapford were to be found anywhere, it would be here. Quite what Jeff was hoping to find he could not have said, something about his dream had profoundly disturbed him and he needed to figure out what it was. The librarian was unable to help him with direct records of Chapford itself, most of which had been destroyed along with the village, but there had been occasions on which its inhabitants had had dealings with the authorities in Salem, and these had been recorded. So it was that Jeff found himself sitting at a table in the reference section of the library, wearing gloves to protect the precious old records, searching for anything of interest in the period leading up to the fire. It took an hour, but he found something that sent a chill down his spine. It was the record of a deliberation by the religious authorities concerning allegations of witchcraft against a number of Chapford villagers, all young women in their twenties. The decision was made to take the matter no further - something which would not have happened at the height of the witch trials - but the document recorded the names of those who had been accused: Mary Keen, Abigail Chaucer, Elspeth Prynne, Prudence Howe (a cousin of Elizabeth Howe, a victim of the Salem trials), and sisters Hester and Margaret Cromwell. Mary, Abi, Elspeth, Pru, Hester and Meg. The same names as the current Chapford wives. Hester and Margaret had even been sisters, and 'Cromwell' was the name of his wife's business. For the briefest of moments he wondered if they could be the same people. But no, that was ridiculous, his overactive writer's imagination getting the better of him. It would make them each over 300 years old, and that was flat-out impossible. Hell of a coincidence, though. And that was the problem. It was just too unlikely to be a coincidence, and if it wasn't then just what was going on here? Had the current women modelled themselves on the earlier ones, even going so far as to adopt their names? And if so, why? "So, what do you think of Salem?" asked Hester later over a plate of clams. They were eating in her favorite seafood restaurant. "It has definite possibilities," said Jeff, studying his wife's face thoughtfully. "Something supernatural and harking back to the witch trials, I suppose," she said. "Pretty much has to be, with Salem," said Jeff, "but I'll try to put a new spin on things, avoid all the usual clich?s." "Any particular ideas, yet?" she asked, staring directly into his eyes. Was she toying with him? "No," said Jeff, "nothing specific. I think I need to do more research first. I'm sure that will suggest something to me." "It never hurts to do research," she smiled. "You can sometimes uncover the most amazing things that way." Hester's comment played on his mind as they drove back to Chapford. Had she meant anything by it, or was he just getting paranoid? He had certainly been badly spooked by what he had turned up at the library, and its implications were reason enough for paranoia. "John phoned me while I was in my meeting," said Hester, as they pulled up to the house. "He and Meg invited us over for dinner tonight, and I accepted. I hope you don't mind." "No, of course not," said Jeff. "That sounds like a great idea." It would also give him an opportunity to let John know what he had uncovered in Salem and to see if he had any idea what it meant. Thus, a few hours later, after showering and changing, Jeff and Hester walked to the neighbouring house. Meg answered the door. Jeff's eyes went wide when he saw her. She was immaculately made-up with not a hair out of place, was wearing pearls and very high heels, and was clad in the feminine dress with its large floaty skirt that was virtually the uniform of the submissive Chapford wifes. She had an apron on over the dress and a feather duster in her hand. "Oh, how lovely to see you!" she smiled. "Come right through. John's in the lounge." "Been doing some dusting?" said Jeff. "Oh, yes," she said. "I've been cleaning all day. I can't believe what a mess I'd let the house get into. Really, John's a saint to have put up with it for so long. I was just getting a little extra dusting in while dinner was cooking." John was in the lounge, laying back in a recliner, a large Scotch on the rocks in his hand. He did not get up when they entered. "Hi there, neighbours!" he grinned. "I hope you're both hungry because this little lady here has been slaving over a hot stove for hours preparing a veritable feast." Jeff glanced at Meg, who seemed to almost shiver with pleasure at his words and to gaze at him adoringly. "Good to see you again, John," said Hester, leaning over and kissing him on the cheek. "Hey, honey," said John to Meg, "get Jeff and Hester some drinks. Oh, and you can freshen mine up while you're at it." Meg took his glass from him, and when she turned he slapped her on the ass. "Oh, John!" she giggled, then flounced off to the kitchen, the swaying of her hips exaggerated by that skirt. "You look very comfortable with...things," said Jeff, pointedly. "Sure am," said John. "Why don't you two take a load off and relax?" Feeling uneasy, Jeff lowered himself into an armchair, glancing up in time to see a strange look pass between John and Hester that was both conspiratorial and smug. So," he said, clearing his throat, "I see Meg decided to have a fairly major makeover." "Every woman likes to give her feminine side full rein at some point," chuckled John. "Not that I'm complaining." No, but Jeff knew that John would have done so yesterday. He could not understand the change in his friend. In its way it was no less startling than the change in Meg. "Here you go," said Meg, returning with a tray of drinks and offering them around. "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes, so don't take too long over them." Jeff expected Hester to remark on the change in her sister, but she said nothing. Instead, she watched as Meg retreated to the kitchen, the same almost gleeful expression on her face he had seen there the previous day when she was watching the other Chapford wives. "So," said Jeff, facing his wife, "what do you make of your sister's new look and attitude?" "Well it's different and a bit of a surprise," said Hester, lighting a cigarette, "but that stuff's pretty much up to her. If it makes her happy then I'm all for it. John here seems to approve." "Certainly do," he grinned. "What guy wouldn't?" "So are we ever going to see you like that?" asked Jeff. "God, no!" said Hester. "If I change, it certainly won't be like that." This last seemed heartfelt and it mollified Jeff a bit, but what if she had no choice in the matter? What if whatever weird force had so changed the other wives changed her, too? What if it changed *him*? After all, yesterday John had been as horrified by all this as Jeff was, but today he was perfectly happy with the situation. "Dinner's ready," announced Meg with a smile, "so you all need to come through." After dinner, which was very good, Jeff offered to help with the dishes. "Don't be ridiculous," smiled Meg. "You just go back on through, put your feet up, and relax with the others. I'll be out to get you drinks in a minute." The whole afternoon was like that, with Meg seeing to their every need and dashing out every few minutes to attend to some chore or to fix some imagined flaw in the home she had rendered immaculate. Jeff was the only one who seemed to find anything odd in this. As early evening arrived, he could take no more and got to his feet. "Well," he said, "that was a wonderful dinner, and we've had a great time, but Hester and I probably ought to leave now." "Why the hurry?" said Hester, getting to her feet and clasping his arm. "The best is yet to come." "What do you mean?" said John, feeling oddly sluggish as Hester's eyes gazed deep into his own. "What I mean is that it's time to swing," smiled Hester, "that John wants to have sex with me, and Meg with you. It would be terribly impolite to refuse after they cooked us such a lovely meal, don't you agree?" Jeff did not agree, but found himself nodding. It was as if he suddenly had no will of his own. "Yes," he said slowly, "I do." "Then that's settled," said Hester, hooking her arm in John's and heading for the stairs. "Have fun you two." Jeff turned to face Meg, who smiled at him lasciviously before reaching out and pulling him to her. His gasp of surprise was smothered by her kissing him long and hard. She broke their embrace to drop to her knees, pulling his pants down in the process. Almost before Jeff realized what was happening, she took his by now rock hard member in her mouth, and gave him the best blow job he had ever had. "Whoah!" he croaked, coming down from his orgasm. "Was it OK?" said Meg, looking concerned. "Did I please you?" "And then some," said Jeff. "Now it's your turn." "Only if it pleases you to pleasure me," said Meg, uncertainly. "Yeah, it pleases me," said Jeff. Knowing how to tongue a woman to orgasm was a skill that had always been extremely popular with his girlfriends, and so it proved now. "Thank you," said Meg afterwards, "that was wonderful." "So what was all that stuff about 'only if it pleases you'?" asked Jeff, as they lay on the sofa together. "It's a woman's duty to please men," said Meg. "If you don't like performing cunnilingus, it would be wrong to do so." "What about your pleasure?" said Jeff. "Isn't that important, too?" "The greatest pleasure a woman can know comes from serving a man and making him happy," said Meg, matter-of-factly, "so that must always come first." Jeff felt he should question this, but he did not. He still was not sure why he had agreed to this partner swap, but he had. And, when he had recovered sufficiently, he had full sex with Meg, never questioning how he was going along with all this despite his misgivings. After, they fell asleep together on the sofa. "Well, don't you two look comfortable together?" It was Hester. Jeff opened his eyes to see her standing there next to John. Both were smiling, and were clad in the same robes Jeff had seen in his dream. "You can go now, Meg," said John. Meg obediently got to her feet and headed out to the kitchen. "What's going on?" asked Jeff, swinging his feet off the sofa and sitting up. "Put this on, and don't speak," smiled Hester, handing him an identical robe to those she and John were wearing. Jeff did as she ordered, dropping the robe over his head and standing there mute, awaiting further instructions. Once again, he had no will of his own. "Good," said Hester. "Now it's time to get this done. Follow me." She turned and headed for the front door. Jeff followed, and John fell in behind him. Outside, clad in the same robes and holding flaming torches, the other men of Chapford awaited them. John, Jeff, and Hester each took a spare torch then, in single file, the seven figures entered the park and began walking up the hill towards the flat rock at its top. Once there, they formed a circle around Jeff. "Lie down on the rock," said Hester. Jeff did as he was commanded, then Hester laid down beside him. John knelt near their heads. He had a small wooden box with him inside were two gemstones, one red and one green. He placed one of these on each of their foreheads. "Switching stones," he said. "There are hundreds of them around, but most people don't know about them or recognize them for what they are. Many of them turn up in jewellery where they're used as cheap substitutes for rubies and emeralds. They date back to the Great Age of sorcery, but were scattered when it ended. You need one of each, one red and one green, and you can switch the souls of any two people up to half a mile apart. No sorcerous knowledge is required. All that's needed for them to work their magic is that those people be asleep. Ordinarily, they would be placed on the brows of people already asleep. Fortunately, our powers mean we don't have that constraint." With that, he passed his hand over their eyes and they were instantly asleep. What happened next, though neither Jeff nor Hester was awake to see it, was that the stones slowly changed colour, the red stone gradually turning green as the green one gradually tuned red. When the colour change had finished, the soul switch was done. Neither Jeff nor Hester had moved during the process, the stones keeping them rigid so that neither could turn and dislodge their gem. The time the process took could vary from minutes to hours, but for Jeff and Hester it had taken about twenty minutes to complete. "Awaken!" said John, and their eyes snapped open. The new Jeff Collins was the first to get to his feet. Grinning, he stretched out his arms, flexing his fingers, then running them down over his lean, male body. "Excellent!" he said. "The switch went without a hitch." Turning, he held his hand out to his wife, who was sitting up now and looking dazed. Seeing Jeff for the first time, she smiled and took his hand. "You ready to be a dutiful and obedient wife," he said, "to defer to your husband in all things and devote yourself to him body and soul?" "Oh, yes!" said the new Hester, gazing at her husband adoringly. "I knew you would be," he grinned, "but it never hurts to check. The stones will work anywhere, but they only switch souls. To make you docile and compliant we needed to pull the switch in a place of power like this." Hand in hand, they headed back down the hill, the others following behind. "I was surprised when you woke last night," said Jeff, "the night we switched Meg and John, though fortunately I was able to make you sleep and then convince you it had been a part of the dream you woke from. And that dream, when you described it to me, was an even bigger surprise. Somehow, you were seeing the ritual as we performed it. Looks like you have some mystic potential yourself. A shame you'll never get to develop it. Oh, and yes - I really couldn't pass up the opportunity to have sex with Meg during the brief window she'd be male and me female. We always have been very fond of each other." As the left the park, the men of Chapford extinguished their torches and headed off to their various houses. "Strip!" ordered Jeff, when they reached their bedroom. Hester did as ordered. "Turn!" he said, and she turned around and around, letting him see her body from all angles. As she did so he ran his hand over her, smiling at the way she shivered with pleasure at his touch. "OK," he said, slipping out of his own robes to reveal an impressive erection, "I've always wanted to know what men find so wonderful about this." So saying, he glanced downwards. This was all the instructions Hester needed. Kneeling before him, she grasped his penis, lips parting as she leant forward. The following day, the other women of Chapford called over to show Hester how to look her best for her man. "Someone looks really happy!" grinned Elspeth Danson. "Hester's just spent her first night as a woman," said Pru Harrold, "satisfying every desire of her handsome husband. Of course, she's happy." "How many times did you make him climax?" asked Mary Crowe. "Five times," sighed Hester, dreamily, to squeals of approval from the girls. "Having him inside me like that, seeing how much pleasure I was giving him... I've never experienced anything so fulfilling." "And you'll be doing it a lot more," smiled Meg, stroking her sister's hair, "particularly when we've shown you how to make yourself look gorgeous for him." And show her they did. As she was being painted and primped, powdered and perfumed, Hester's whole being was focussed on what they were doing to her, and she absorbed it all like a sponge. She knew without a doubt that when she had to do all this for herself she would do as perfect a job as the girls had. When they were done, Hester stood and admired her image in a full- length mirror, not quite believing the vision of loveliness it reflected was her. She touched the pearls at her throat, admiring the way the polish on her long nails glistened, adoring how elegant her immaculate make-up made her look. She did a twirl, causing her long, floaty skirt to lift up and swirl around her waist, exposing the garters holding up her silk stockings. The other wives broke out in spontaneous applause. She was a beautiful woman, one devoted to tending the needs of her lord and master and she loved it! She could not believe how fortunate she was because, truly, what could possibly be better than this? A little later, she and the other wives went downstairs to join the men. As they descended the stairs, Hester saw their husbands standing there waiting for them, expectant grins on their faces. All the furniture had been moved back to leave a large expanse of floor in the middle of the room. "In celebration of our switch," said Jeff, "of the last of the Chapford wives finally being in place, where she belongs, we've decided to have a group celebration or, as they're usually called, an orgy. This will be our only chance to do this, and we intend to make the most of it." Since it was their husbands who had come up with this, the wives instantly decided it was a wonderful idea, of course, and in no time at all everyone was naked and engaged in all manner of sexual acts. In the hours that followed, every wife serviced every man, mostly singly but sometimes multiply. Craig Hunter spent the longest with Hester, returning to her several times. "God, you've got no idea how long I've wanted to do this!" he said as he rammed his enormous cock into her. "I've lusted after that cute body since I first laid eyes on Hester all those years ago." By late afternoon, everyone was pretty much sated and exhausted. While the men lay about in various states of repose, the wives quickly freshened up their appearances then busied themselves tidying up. This done, they then prepared a meal for everyone. "We have a present for each of you," said Jeff when the meal was done, whereupon each of the men handed his wife a box. "Go upstairs now and put on the clothes you find in the boxes," said Jeff. "Fix your hair and make-up then, when you're ready, join us back downstairs." Giggling with excitement, the wives did as they were told and headed back to the master bedroom. In the parcels were identical outfits, sized to suit each of them, consisting of a corset, garter belt, seamed stockings, thong, pumps with five inch heels, and a bridal veil. All of the items were white. Bridal white. This time when they descended the stairs, wearing in these outfits, their husbands awaited them clad in the ritual red robes and holding a bridal bouquet. Each handed his wife the bouquet and offered her his arm and then they filed out of the house and headed for the park. It was already dark outside. Hester wondered where the day had gone but gave no thought to what they were doing. It was something her husband wanted, so it needed no further consideration. At the top of the hill, they stood on the table rock in a circle. Jeff stepped into the center of the circle to address them. "My sister and I were twelve and eleven years old in 1692, the year of the Salem witch trials," he said. "It was utter madness, of course - none of those executed was guilty of anything - but also terribly exciting to us as children. We fell avidly on every bit of news from Salem, crept downstairs when our parents thought us asleep to secretly listen to their fearful, whispered conversations about the trials. Chapford was twenty miles from Salem, but fear stalked the land. Eventually it even reached us. Oh, no one was ever accused, much less tried, but with the suspicion and paranoia in the air it would have been only a matter of time. When Governor Phips dissolved the Court of Oyer and Terminer in October that year, that was the real end of the affair. The Superior Court tried the remaining cases the following May, but they convicted no one. It was a real anticlimax. Meg and I had been exhilarated by the atmosphere of hysteria whipped up by the trials. We were sorry to see them end, and became intrigued by this thing all the adults were so afraid of, by witchcraft. This was forbidden fruit, and so terribly attractive to us. Over the next few years, carefully and in secret, we studied witchcraft. We amassed a wealth of knowledge, and chanced upon some powerful mystic artefacts. Along the way we also acquired followers in Elspeth, Prudence, Mary, and Abigail, young women who felt as constrained by the suffocating roles forced on them in that time as we did. This stone we're standing on was known to us, of course - it lay only two miles from the village of Chapford, after all - and we had all played on it as children. But not until we began studying the craft did we realize its significance. This is a place of power, one that had seen blood sacrifices and mystic rituals long before the ancestors of today's Native Americans crossed over the land bridge from Asia. As we each developed our witch sight, so its nature became more and more obvious to us. The artefacts were of crucial importance. Our studies revealed the great age of sorcery laid long in the past, that the magic available to us in our time was but a pale shadow of what it had once been. However, the artefacts dated back to the Great Age, and had reservoirs of power that had been trapped within them back then. Using them atop this stone, we were able to summon the demon Baalok, to bind him and to make a bargain with him. In return for beauty, eternal youth, wealth, and permanent health, we would be his in three hundred years from that night. He demanded the sacrifice of the village of Chapford and all who lived there to seal the bargain. We didn't have a problem with that. That was three centuries ago this very night. A few minutes from now, Baalok will come to collect his brides, to take them down bodily into whatever hell he inhabits, still alive and in the flesh, to service his needs for all time. When we made our bargain with Baalok we were young and three hundred years seemed like an eternity, but those years have just flown by. Having eternal youth meant we couldn't stay in one place more than ten years or so without the fact we weren't aging becoming obvious, so we've had to uproot and move more often than we might have chosen. I got around this by rotating between my three homes of choice - Chapford, San Francisco and Seattle - spending only a decade at a time in each. Moving every ten years meant a twenty year gap between my leaving and returning to each, which made it easy to return as my own daughter. I'm three long lines of women all by myself." Jeff chuckled at this, pausing to cast his gaze over the women before him. A look of pity or possibly regret briefly crossed his stolen face. "As the date approached for us to honour our end of the bargain we made all those years ago, we knew that we could not, that others would have to take our place. That would be you, ladies. You get to be his brides while we get to live out the next half-century or more, the rest of our now mortal lives, as men. Once used, a pair of jewels will not work on a person again, alas, and these are the only pair we've ever located, some sixty years apart from each other. We were happy being women, but switching gender is a small price to pay to stay free of Baalok's clutches. Ah, I sense him coming now." With that, Jeff returned to his place in the circle. Where he had been standing, a rectangular pit opened in the rock to reveal a set of stone steps leading down into the depths. Light emanated from the pit, a deep volcanic light, and the powerful smell of brimstone. Someone was coming up the steps, someone whose presence they could feel rather than hear, and Hester felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, a bead of sweat trickle down her back. The creature slowly emerged from the pit as first its head then its whole body emerged and could be clearly seen in the light emanating from the pit. Hester gasped. It was a man, good-looking in a dark, saturnine way, and dressed in a black, tailored business suit. His long hair and neat beard were immaculately quaffed, and his face bore an expression of faint amusement as he surveyed the scene before him. "Hello," he said, his voice deep and mellifluous, yet leaving a strange afternote in the ear like the buzzing of a million flies. Hester momentarily glanced away from him and as she did so she caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye totally at odds with what she saw when she looked at him directly. Naked, he was gross and bloated, with pus oozing across his pale, mottled flesh from countless sores. His hands were sharply-taloned claws, his hair long and dripping thick grease, and his yellow eyes had the slitted irises of a snake. More appalling than all of this however, was his phallus. Two feet long and as thick as a man's wrist, it was studded with long sharp spines resembling thorns. Despite the glamour she was under, Heather shuddered, pulling her full gaze back to Baalok so that she could once again see the handsome and urbane image he was projecting into their minds. "So what is this?" said Baalok, smiling as he surveyed the circle. "Your brides, as promised," said Jeff, "in fulfilment of our bargain. Ladies, step forward!" Hester and the other Chapford wives immediately did so. To not obey the men was a concept they could not even consider. "Very amusing," smiled Baalok, "but my bargain was not with them. It was with you." "B..but these are the bodies you wanted," said Jeff, panic in his voice. "We're men now, so we can hardly be your brides." At this, Baalok let out a roar of laughter. "Three hundred years, and you still hold such old-fashioned ideas," he grinned. "I wanted you six souls still clad in flesh, but it doesn't matter to me whether that flesh is male or female. It matters to you, however. Penetration by me can cause much damage to mortal flesh, which is why I gave your original bodies an accelerated healing factor. I'm surprised you would give up something which would ease your suffering below but if such is your choice, so be it!" With that he snapped his fingers, and everyone found themselves frozen to the spot and unable to move or to speak. A second finger-snap, and the men of Chapford started filing towards the steps, descending into the pit one by one. As Jeff passed her so Hester saw the fear in his eyes. He knew what awaited them for all eternity and it terrified him. He was the last to descend the stairs, her final view of him being the top of his head as it vanished beneath the edge of the pit. Baalok turned to the wives and bowed. "Ladies," he smiled. "I'll be taking my leave of you now. You've all come out of this rather well. You each have a beautiful body that will never age or succumb to illness, and which will swiftly recover from all but the most severe physical trauma. I'd offer you one of my deals, but I suspect that when you've had time to think you'll realize you've already hit the jackpot. Oh well, so it goes." Baalok slowly descended the stairs into the pit, the hole closing over him and becoming solid rock once more as soon as he was lost to view. As this happened, so the fog clouding the wives' thoughts lifted. "Wow!" said Hester, shaking her head and looking around at the other women, all of whom had stunned expressions on their faces. "I think maybe we're all in shock now," she said, taking charge, "but we need to get down off this rock and back to our houses." "Yeah, you're right," said Meg, and the other women nodded, mutely. They helped each other climb down off the rock, then made their way carefully down the hill. Negotiating the slope in five inch heels when not on the arms of their husbands was not easy. Hester noticed that none of the women, herself included, removed her shoes or discarded her bridal bouquet. At the park entrance at the bottom of the hill, she turned to the others and said: "We have a lot we need to discuss, so we'll meet in my house an hour from now, OK?" The women nodded, then headed for their individual dwellings. Alone in her bedroom, Hester examined her body with a clear mind for the first time. She ran her hands lightly over the soft curve of her breasts, then kneaded the firmer flesh of her buttocks. Turning about, she admired herself in the mirror, loving the way the heels made her legs look and enjoying how the corset felt on her. This was her body now, and who she would always be from this time forth. She found she was not at all unhappy at that prospect. When the Chapford wives - now the Chapford widows - gathered in her house, Hester was surprised to see all were wearing skirts or dresses, heels and hose, and fresh make-up. Since she herself was wearing a little black dress, dark panty hose and heels, and had taken great care with her own make-up, this should have come as no surprise, but somehow it did. She had expected at least one person to dress defiantly in male garb but no one had. It appeared she was not the only one who had not only made peace with her transformation but positively embraced it. "Of course we have," said Abi Hunter, when Hester mentioned this. "We get to be young and beautiful forever. It's the deal of a lifetime. Next to that, switching gender pales into insignificance. Plus, I gotta say, I'm kinda attracted to guys now anyway." "But you were this big heterosexual jock," said Pru Harrold, "and about as macho as they come." "What, so you're not attracted to men now?" said Abi. "Well, yeah, I am," said Pru, "but I always swung both ways." "Well, I've only been a woman forty eight hours," said Meg, "and my only experience of sex with men has been the same as most of us here - as a mind-controlled slave. As what was basically rape, in other words. Yet I have to say, the prospect of truly consensual sex with a man is something that, well, turns me on. Looking around me and seeing how comfortable we all are in our female finery, I guess that while we have our free will back the mind-altering spell used on us left some after-effects." "You're awfully quiet, Hester," said Elspeth Danson. "Penny for your thoughts?" "Oh, I was thinking about the other aspect of all this," said Hester, "about witchcraft. We have a pair of switching stones in our possession, and my late unlamented husband told me I had mystical potential. It occurs to me that we could use the artefacts gathered by our predecessors and put them to more positive use than they did." They discussed this for a little while, then the talk turned back to men and to personal relationships. Listening to them, to their laughter and the way their conversation moved eventually to hair, make-up and clothes, Hester knew they already sounded just like any group of females talking about those things that mattered to women, things she realized now mattered to her too. As to the question of her sexuality and to whether or not she was attracted to men, she was not sure yet. But she had time to figure it out. All the time in the world. The End. *********************** Note: Though this is a standalone story, it and most of the others I've posted here are all part of the same continuity. The exceptions are my Ultraverse stories (so far, only the two Mantra tales,) set in that now defunct comics universe, my sci-fi stories ('Window on the Past' and 'Finding Janine'), and, for obvious reasons, the Genderwave series. This is why, for instance, characters from my Altered Fates sequence have appeared in the two Carnival of Mirrors tales that have appeared to date. Though it's not necessary to know this stuff to appreciate the tale you've just read, the 'backstory' that forms the underlying basis for the whole continuity, an explanation of what the women of Chapford called the 'Great Age', was laid out in 'Altered Fates: Project Zulo', itself the final part of a sequence of twelve tales that could be read individually but were also part of a bigger story, and will be reprised in the forthcoming 'Altered Fates: The Ballad of Jake & Nancy' when I get around to finishing that one. Which means we probably haven't seen the last of the women of Chapford, though when one or more of them do reappear I won't flag up this earlier appearance. These sorts of things are easter eggs for those interested in piecing together the larger continuity. Oh, and if anyone wishes to use switching stones in their stories, please do. They're pretty simple and straightforward. The two paragraphs about them in this tale, and the later revelation that once used a given pair will not work on a person again, tell you everything you need to know about their availability and operation. You need one green, and one red. Any green works with any red but both have to be fresh stones to work on someone already switched. They only switch souls and do not alter minds, btw. That was accomplished in this story via separate sorcery.