The Shortstop
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A Pair Of Shorts free porn video
I just thought that I'd post a couple of short-short stories of mine. Both
originated as overly long captions on Phlick.
Let me know what you think of them.
Ellie
Downsizing
By Ellie Dauber (c) 2004
The desk intercom buzzed. "Mr. Garner is here."
Alvia Singh pressed the talk button. "Send him in, please."
Phil Garner walked into the office, closing the door behind him. "I'm
supposed to meet a Mr. Singh. Is he here?"
"I am Alvia Singh, Mr. Garner. You were misinformed about who I am." She
stood up and offered her hand.
Phil stood where he was and looked at the woman behind the desk. She was
tall, an Asian beauty with skin the color of a mocha latte. "I can't say
that I'm sorry." He gave her his best salesman's smile.
"You should." She sat back down.
"Excuse me?"
"Mr. Garner, you're aware, I'm sure, that Drayton Electronics was bought out
by my firm, Jura-Sato United."
"Yes, I am, but I don't understand what that has to do with why I've been
called in here."
"As with any corporate takeover, there will be some changes... some staff
will be let go."
"Am I going to be one of those people?"
"No, you're an excellent engineer, the sort of person Jura-Sato bought this
firm to acquire. However, there is a problem."
"What... what sort of a problem?"
"Your people skills, especially with female staff, are abominable. There
are over two dozen complaints of sexual harassment in your file."
"Those are all misunderstandings. I'm sure that a woman of your..." he
smiled again. "...obvious intelligence will understand, when I fully
explain the circumstances of those complaints."
"Amazing. I tell you that there are sexual harassment issues, and you come
on to me. I think that you certainly qualify as a candidate for our special
downsizing program."
"Downsizing? I'm a senior engineer. I have an entire team working for me."
"No, they work for Ellen Rayburn, now. _You_ will be the new engineering
tech that the former head of the team requested."
"Tech? Wait a minute. That job's for a kid, some wet behind the ears type
straight out of college."
"And that's who you are." She made an odd gesture with her hand.
"Wha..." Phil found that he couldn't speak, couldn't move. His body felt
odd, tingly all over.
He became thinner, more slender. Under his dark blue suit, his well-defined
muscles became slender and smooth. His body was hairless, except for on his
head and at his groin. His waist narrowed, while his hips and butt became
much more rounded.
There was a stretching sensation at his chest. His nipples darkened, then
the flesh beneath them pushed outward to form a pair of perky, very female
36-C breasts that threatened to pop the buttons on his shirt.
His sandy brown hair lengthened and darkened as it grew down past his
shoulders. His face softened, as well. His early crows feet smoothed out,
as his face took a younger appearance. His nose was smaller, and his
cheekbones higher. His lips grew puffy, as his eyebrows narrowed to thin
lines. He twitched as lipstick, blusher, and eye shadow appeared on his
face.
Phil felt himself stiffen, but the hardness of his erection seemed to sink
down inside him. He felt something -- his testicles, though he couldn't
know that -- move up into his body to become ovaries. His scrotum tightened
down into a pair of lips around his rapidly shrinking cock. When that organ
was about a half-inch long, it began to sink down into the hole forming
around it. In a matter of minutes, all the plumbing changes were complete.
Phil Garner was a woman.
He found that he could move a bit. He sank down into the chair. "Please,"
he said clasping his arms together, as if in prayer. "What are you doing to
me?"
"Just arranging -- or _re_arranging things so you won't be embarrassed by
your new status," Alvia said.
The tantric magic she had learned in the remote village in India where she
was born was continuing to work. The subject's clothing was starting to
change. Already his shoes were a pair of woman's heels, and his socks were
becoming panty hose.
The subject didn't seem to notice, either. The deepest part of the spell
was at work now.
"You do not really mind being just a trainee, do you?"
"No, ma'am, Phyllis Horner said. "On this economy, I figure a girl just out
of college can't do much better than that to start. But you'll see. I'm
going to work real hard, Ms. Singh. I want to make something of myself for
this company."
'Or vice versa,' Alvia thought.
***
Ticket to A New Life
By Ellie Dauber (c) 2003
"No damn place to park." Reg Dutton's eyes scanned the row of cars. Nothing.
"Wait a minute," he said. A car was pulling out, and right in front of the
hardware store he was headed for.
Reg sped up to make sure that the spot was his. As the car pulled the last
bit onto the street, he saw the stylized rocker on the license plate. He
glanced over to the meter. "Handicapped!" Then he shrugged and pulled in
anyway.
"I'll only be a few minutes," he said as he got out of his car. "That
shouldn't be a problem." He slammed the door and headed into the store.
Sure enough, he was back out in less than ten minutes, the new oil filter
for his white sports car under his arm. In fact, he was just in time to see a
slender blonde in a meter maid's uniform slipping something under his wiper
blade.
"What the hell is this?" he growled pulling the ticket free. He flexed his
muscles, readying instinctively for a fight. It was a hot day, and he hadn't
worn a shirt, just the pair of suspenders holding up his slacks.
"Just what it looks like, sir," the blonde said. She was a pretty, little
thing with just the sort of curves to make that stupid uniform worth looking
at. "You're parked in a handicapped zone. Just be glad that I didn't have
time to call the tow truck."
"Screw that. I was only in there ten minutes. It's not like anybody needed
the spot."
"If you were in the store, sir, how do you know? I saw a car with a
handicapped plate circle the block twice before he gave up."
"So he gave up. He didn't want it bad enough."
"That doesn't matter, sir. You still parked illegally."
Reg put his arm on the woman's shoulder. "Look, babe, why don't you tear up
that ticket, and you and me will go someplace nice where I can thank you for
it."
"Take your hand off me, please. The ticket stands. And I wouldn't dream of
going out with somebody like you."
Reg gave her his best smile. "Oh, come on. What's this dumb ticket to stand
in the way of a good time?" He lifted his hand and ran a finger along her
chin. "I'll bet we could have us a real good time."
She pulled back. "The ticket stays, and I'm warning you. Stop pawing me."
"What's the matter? You think you're too good for the likes of me. I'm an
important man. You play along with me, or you won't even have this damned
job."
"Why don't you just get in your car and go away before I..."
"Before you what, bitch?" He ripped the ticket in half. "Before you waste
your time writing another ticket for me to ignore." He tossed the pieces at
the woman.
"Are you sure you want to do that?" She caught the pieces and held them in
her hand for a moment. Then she handed him the ticket back. It was in one
piece.
"Good trick," Reg said, leering. "I guess it takes one to know one. Now why
don't we..."
The woman shook her head. "Reg Dutton, you are one worthless man. I've tried
to be nice, but you've shown me that I was only wasting my time."
"How'd you know my name, and what the hell are you talking about?"
"Things that are far beyond your petty, closed, little mind." The woman made
an odd series of gestures. "Things that are going to do a bit of adjustment
to your... attitude."
The blue sky suddenly darkened to an odd shade of gray. Reg looked around. A
moment before, the sidewalks had been full of people, the street full of
cars. Now, all he could see was this woman, himself, and his car. "What..."
"We're in the space between two seconds of time. Here things can be
manipulated, and what they become, they will always have been." She made
another gesture and pointed to his car.
The white sports car seemed to flatten, becoming two-dimensional. It slid up
onto the sidewalk next to the handicapped meter. The windshield faded away.
The body sank inward, then disappeared. So did two of the wheels. The engine
vanished except for a few gears and some chain. The front fender slid up, as
the drive shaft moved downward.
What had been a $38,000 sports car parked in the street was now a ten-speed
racing bike fastened to the parking meter by a thick metal chain enclosed in
phosphorescent pink plastic.
"My car," Reg yelled, hardly noticing that his voice sounded much higher.
His razor cut short brown hair had lightened to blonde and was flowing down
past his shoulders. His rugged face was softer, now, heart-shaped with an
upturned nose and full lips. Lips that shown red as make-up appeared on his
face.
Reg's body was thinner, too, and hairless. Hard muscle was giving way to
soft, rounded forms. Feminine forms. He barely felt the tickle as his firm
pectorals grew into glorious D-cup breasts. His nipples extended, pushing at
the elastic fabric of his suspenders. Then, all of a sudden, there was
something between Reg and the suspenders, a green Lycra sports bra.
His waist was narrower, but his hips widened, the flat, male ass taking on
the feminine pear shape. The stress popped the button at the waistline of
his pants, which now became a pair of woman's slacks.
His bikini under shorts became a pair of bikini panties as the hole in front
sealed and the material changed from cotton/acrylic to silk. There was no
need for a hole, anyway. His male genitalia had sifted to their feminine
counterparts. What had been Reg's penis was now the clitoris sinking down
into the vagina forming around it.
His... her feet were smaller, her nails covered with the same pink polish
that was on her fingers. The cross-trainers, _he_ had worn were now a pair
of low-heeled sandals on _her_ feet. The sky changed back to a pale blue
as time re-started around the pair.
"You bitch," she shouted in a breathy soprano. "You change me... change...
I..." Her head spun. She felt a moment's dizziness, then it cleared. "Hi,"
she said to the other woman. "I... do I know you from somewhere?"
The other woman stuck out her hand. "I think so. I'm Devra Weeks. I think we
go to the same gym."
"Sure. I'm... Ginny, Ginny Dutton." She happily shook Devra's hand.
"Glad to meet you, Ginny, but you know, you really shouldn't tie your bike
up to a handicapped meter like that. It could get in the way for some
people."
Ginny's eye's widened. "I... I didn't think of that. I put it on the
sidewalk, so the spot would be open, instead of leaving it on the street."
"Well, I'll give you points for that, but you really should move it."
Ginny pulled the key from her pocket. "There. I was finished here anyway,
but I'd hate to be one of those people who takes a handicapped spot." She
climbed onto the bike. "Bye," she waved as she cycled away.
"That's the ticket," Devra said with a smile as she walked down to where her
mini-bike was parked. "And the Wiccan Council said I wouldn't have any fun
at a job this mundane."
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