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Trans-SeXXual free porn video
Trans-SeXXual
By Missy Crystal
Hi. You're from the magazine right? Do you want to take some pictures
of me? I mean, like I'm really hot! See these boobs. Nice, huh? All
mine. Not bad for a boy. Want to feel them? What? 'Forbes' doesn't do
pictures? No photographer? Bummer. You want me to tell you about my
daddy, because he's the richest man in the world? Well doh! Did I tell
you I'm really hot! Well, okay, so like I already told you. But I'm
really hot. And rich. I mean daddy did invent the transputer. Where'd
the name come from? Like you think I don't know or something. Just
because I'm blonde and easy -and really hot, I told you that right? -
doesn't mean I'm like dumb. I can't believe they sent a guy.
Okay, so like daddy was into this 'Star Trek' thing when he was a
little boy. It was a TV show or movie or something about space travel.
Well, he was always talking about this guy, Captain Krok, who was like
into saving the universe and he had this like thing on his spaceship, I
think it was called the 'Enterprenure' or something. No, silly, that
was the name of the space ship. The thing was called a 'transporter.'
Well, this transporter beamed people around. Daddy was always saying,
"Beam me up, Scotty." He was really into it. I'm into jewelry. Want to
see the diamond in my belly button. It'll knock your eyes out. See, I
have diamond earrings too. You know, I'm really hot. And rich. Okay,
okay, I told you already. I mean if a girl doesn't blow her own horn.
Well yes. I am horny, but that wasn't what I meant about blowing,
although, once we get though this interview I'd, be happy to give you a
hand with anything that happens to pop up. I can't believe they sent
guy.
Daddy's like a real genius. He's got three PhDs and he was the head of
the Cybernetics Department at the university. Anyway, like daddy always
wanted to build one of those transporters. It was his pet project. He
had been working on it since before I was born and for years
afterwards. Mom told me that every night when he got home he would like
disappear into his lab in the basement. I can't figure out how she
distracted him long enough to stick his dick in her. Well, doh. She
must have jumped him at least once, because she had me. Maybe even
geniuses get laid once in a while. Are you a genius? Yeah, yeah, you're
supposed to be interviewing me. What? Put my blouse back on, because
it's distracting you. Well doh. I paid a lot for this bra. Whatever. I
can't believe they sent a guy.
Where was I? Oh, right, the 'Star Trek' story. Okay, so anyway about
the time I was like six, daddy actually built one of them. The
transporter thing. But it was run by a computer program, so he called
it a 'transportation computer' or 'transputer' for short. That's where
the name comes from Mr. Smarty Pants. Thought I didn't know that, huh.
Did I tell you that I'm really hot. And rich. And horny. I can't
believe they sent a guy.
Tell you my story? How come I'm a girl? Okay, but if I tell you, then
you have to promise to help me check the law of gravity. You know, the
law of gravity. Like, what goes up must come down. We'll see how long
you dick stays up before it goes down. No, I don't have a one track
mind. It has lots of tracks. They just all lead to my pussy when I'm
with a guy. I mean, if things hadn't gone they way they did, I'd be the
one with a dick who had his choice of hot chicks. Stick to the point?
Okay, if you stick your point in me. Promise or I'm not talking. What?
Move my hand? Oh, that hand. Sorry. Got ahead of myself. And you'll get
some great head later. Well, it's not my fault they sent a guy and
cocks are in short supply these days. I mean, like a girl's got to do
what a girl's got to do to get laid once in a while.
Anyway, daddy got the transputer working when I was about six. Only
like it didn't work the way it was supposed to work. He would take a
mouse and put it on the analyzer. Oh right, you're a guy. You've never
been though the transputer, obviously. The analyzer scans the mouse and
records the data for reassembly at the other end. Then the disassembler
would convert the mouse's molecular structure to digital signals and
broadcast the signals to a reassembler at the other side of the lab.
According to daddy, distance didn't matter. If he could send it ten
feet, he could just as easily send it ten miles or ten thousand miles.
The problem was, when the mouse arrived it was jelly. Daddy went
through lots and lots of mice trying to figure out what was wrong. Like
no matter how he calibrated or reprogrammed the transputer, it was
always the same. Mouse in, jelly out. He was really bummed out.
Daddy's degrees were all in engineering. He figured that if there was
nothing wrong with his equipment - like, after all, he's the genius
that built the stuff, right? - the mice must be defective. I'm just a
really hot blonde. Horny and rich too. Yes, I know I've already told
you that. It never hurts for a girl to let a guy know he's in for a
good time. You'll see. Well, that doesn't make a lot of sense to me. I
mean, like what could be defective about a mouse? But daddy, decided to
talk to one of his genius buddies who was some kind of biologist.
According to daddy, they puzzled over the problem egghead to egghead
and the guy finally said to him, "You need a blueprint." "What are you
talking about?" daddy said. "Mice don't come with blueprints." "I
know," said genius number two. "What I mean is that the receiving
computer needs something to tell it how to put the pieces back
together." "It has a holographic image of the mouse," daddy explained,
"so all it has to do is reassemble it when it arrives to look like what
it was when it left."
"Okay," said genius number two. "Think of it this way. You have a box
with one hundred marbles. The marbles are different colors: white,
black, red, blue, green and yellow." I'm just a hot blonde, so none of
this makes any sense to me. I'm just telling you what daddy told me.
Anyway, the second genius went on, "they are in a particular pattern.
You randomly move the marbles one by one to another box and want to
recreate the pattern, but each marble has to go back to the exact
position it was in when you started. If you use a picture, you can
duplicate the pattern, but it is impossible to get each marble in
exactly the same place that it was before. The pattern is right, but
the location of each marble is different." I haven't a clue what it all
means, but that is what he said. He went on, "a mouse doesn't have a
hundred cells. It has a billion. And they all need to be in the correct
relationship to one another biologically, not visually, or you just
have a blob of protoplasm. Jelly to you."
Like, I mean the other genius just told daddy his transputer wouldn't
ever work. He was like really pissed. Ten years worth of work in the
toilet. He went home and was about to turn the pile of junk into a
microwave oven when the phone rang. It was genius number two. "Eureka,"
he shouted. Actually, I'm making that up. I have no idea what he said,
but scientists always say that in the movies. I haven't a clue why,
because it sounds really stupid, but what do I know? I'm just a really
hot blonde. A really horny, really rich, really hot blonde who's going
to get laid, right? You promised if I told you the story. Maybe you
just better take you dick out and let me hold onto it, kind of like a
down payment. Really, I won't lick it or stroke it or put it in my
mouth or anything. I'll just hang onto it for safekeeping. No? You
can't take notes when a girl is holding your dick? Really? How many
girls have you had hold your dick while you take notes up to now? Hah,
I thought so. You won't know till you've tried. Now, if you want to
hear my good part, then I get to hold onto your good part. Up to you.
Mmmm. That's nice. Yes, I know I said I wouldn't play with it, but I
just want to see. Hmmm, six, no seven inches, I'd say. Eight, you say?
Well I could get a ruler. Anyway, I'm inspired.
Okay, so here's the rest of the story. Genius number two said to daddy,
"You were wrong. There is a blueprint for a mouse." I bet daddy made a
face, because he's a genius and he's never wrong. "So where is it?" he
asked sarcastically. "If you're going to be a wise ass," said the other
genius, "then I'm not going to tell you." Actually, I'm making that up
too. I have no idea what he said, but if he's a genius, he probably
hates people making fun of him. I am getting to the point! Be patient.
I know it's hard when I'm holding your dick. No, not hard to be
patient, your dick is hard. Tee hee. Told you I'm really hot. Let's
see. "The blueprint is the DNA," said genius number two. "That is what
determines what we will become. An elephant has baby elephants, not
baby ostriches, because its DNA is a blueprint for an elephant. Got
it?" Daddy was so excited he never even bothered to hang up the phone.
Actually, I'm making that up too. Like I have no idea what he did, but
it would be just like him.
Where do I come in? Well, you'll come in about twenty minutes. I'll try
to come at the same time. Oh, you mean in the story. Well, it took
daddy about six months to figure out how to read the DNA and send it as
a carrier to the receiving computer. Like nobody told him that
scientists had been trying to do that for years until he solved the
problem. I think he got like the Noble Prize or something for that.
Anyway, the first mouse went though perfectly. Happy and healthy. So
did a dozen more mice. Daddy was ecstatic. He had really done it.
Invented a transporter. At least for mice, but then who wanted to send
mice around the world. Later on, daddy confessed that our dog Daisy got
a ride too. He wanted to see if it affected her mind, but she was the
same old dog, piddled on the same spot on the rug and chewed up his
slippers. I suspect she got more than one trip, but there was no
problem.
Anyway, by this time mom had given up on daddy. Like she spent most
days working out at the gym and hanging out with her girlfriends, whose
husbands were equally disinterested in their companionship. Little did
mom and her friends know what the future held or they would have been
banging their brains out. Usually, she dragged me along, but, when
daddy was home, she left me. I mean how much trouble could a six year
old get into? Well, actually a six year old boy can get into lots of
trouble. One day, I decided to explore daddy's lab. I snuck downstairs.
As luck would have it or wouldn't have it, depending how you look at
it, daddy had gone to whiz and I wandered into the lab. There was a
panel with lots of buttons. I pushed a few and then I started across
the floor to look at something that was rotating. I stood on the
analyzer pad, just as the countdown I had triggered started the
program. The next thing I knew, I was across the room, having the
dubious honor of being the first person to use the transputer. When
daddy came back, he did a double take. There I was naked. It seems that
my DNA didn't have the pattern for my clothes, so they were just a pile
of dust. When I looked down, I noticed something was missing. "Daddy,"
I asked him, "what happened to my willy?"
Daddy had mixed emotions. On the one hand, as a scientist, he was
really excited about being able to try the transputer on a human.
Apparently you just can't experiment on people willy-nilly. Which is
what happened to me. My willy was nilly. So that was the good news.
Explaining to mom why her son was missing his manhood was the downside.
"Daddy, how am I going to make pee pee without a willy," I asked him
with the logic of a six year old. "Umm, I think we better take you to
the hospital. I'm sure the doctors can make it better," was his overly
optimistic answer. He took me upstairs, got me dressed and drove me to
the Emergency Room.
"My son had an accident," he lied to the admitting nurse. "He fell off
his bike." "Fill out this form," said the nurse. "The doctor will see
him shortly." Dad filled out the form: name, Daniel; sex, male; age, 6.
He added the bike story and his concerns about my general health. I am
sure he didn't want to explain to the doctor how I lost my dick any
more than he did to my mom. After about fifteen minutes, a young woman
doctor came out and brought us into the examining room. She looked over
the form, did a thorough examination, which felt a lot different than I
was used to, and then recommended that I have some x-rays, just as a
precaution.
About twenty minutes later, she came back. "Your daughter is in
excellent health," she said. Daddy looked stunned. "My daughter?" he
replied. "Yes," said the doctor. "I can see you are very upset. On the
admission form, you misspelled her name. You have 'Daniel' instead of
'Danielle.' You also checked off 'male' instead of 'female.'" Daddy
wanted confirmation. "Are you sure doctor? Nothing happened to his, umm
her, umm, you know, umm, umm, reproductive organs." The doctor gave him
a puzzled look. "No, I did a pelvic and they are perfectly well
developed and normal for a girl of her age. You know, this is usually a
conversation we have with the girl's mother." "Oh," said daddy,
thinking quickly. "Umm, her, umm mother is out of town visiting her,
umm, her sister. Yes, umm, her sister. I was supposed to be umm,
watching, umm, umm, Danny." "Ah, well, she is just fine," the doctor
reassured him.
I hope you're getting all this, because so far I'm not getting any. I'm
really hot, really rich and getting really, really, really horny. You
had better be really, really good at defying the law of gravity with
your dick. So, do you want to hear the end of the story or should we
just get to sucking and fucking? I mean, your cock is beginning to leak
cum. Let me just lick that little dribble on the tip. Just a lick.
Mmmmm. Oh, alright. But if you blow your load, you can forget the rest
of the story. Yeah, well, okay. Licking it isn't helping. Sorry. So,
where was I? Oh, yeah, like daddy rushed me over to genius number two's
house. He explained what had happened and wanted to know if there was a
way to put my boy parts back, before my mother came home and cut his
off. Being a genius, the fact that my daddy just turned his son into a
girl did not interest him as much as the challenge of figuring out how
it happened. Genius number two paced around his study. "Eureka," he
shouted. He really did say that this time. "You used a strand of DNA as
a blueprint, right?" "Right," agreed daddy. "That's what you told me
and it worked perfectly for the mice." "What sex were the mice?" genius
number two asked. "How should I know," daddy said. "Who cares?" "You
should have cared," said genius number two, because I bet they all came
out female. You know what parthenogenesis is?" "Someplace in Greece," I
think. "No," said the other genius, who apparently spent more time out
of his lab, "that's the Parthenon." "Anyway," daddy argued, "Daisy, our
dog went through the transputer without any problem." "Of course she
did," genius number two replied. "Daisy was already female."
Genius number two went on, "parthenogenesis is the duplication of a
creature from an unfertilized egg. There is no sperm to provide a Y
chromosome." I didn't know what sperm was then, but I do now and I
better be getting some really, really soon. Anyway, he said, "The egg
only has an X chromosome, so the creature created by parthenogenesis is
always female. It is a clone of its mother." "So what?" argued dad, "I
didn't use an egg." "No," said genius number two, "but you used a
single strand of DNA, which, is what is in an egg. Anyone who goes
through your device will be reconstructed as though they were born
female. It is not only a transporter. It is a transmuter." "What if I
change the analysis?" questioned daddy. "It won't work," said genius
number two. If you try to duplicate a strand of DNA that produces a Y
chromosome to create a male, you will end up with a double Y creature
that will have severe defects, if it survives at all. No, I'm afraid
that only genetic women can use your device and any man who uses it
will end up like Danielle, I mean Daniel."
Daddy took me home. Mom was waiting. "Where have you two been?" she
asked him. "And why does Danny look funny?" "Honey," said daddy. "I
have some good news and some bad news. The good news is my transputer
works. It will probably make us very rich. Very, very rich." Mom's eyes
lit up. Very rich was good. Very, very rich was better. Like I am sure
she was already planning a trip to Tiffany's. Seizing the moment, daddy
explained, "the bad news is that Danny went through the transputer by
accident and it turned him into a girl." Mom hadn't quite focused. "Now
that you mention it, he does look more feminine. Is it permanent?" "No,
honey," continued daddy, "not just looks like a girl. He is a girl. A
real girl, with girl insides and he will be able to have babies." Daddy
finally had Mom's attention. "You mean like he was born a girl?" "Yes,
he is a real girl." "Can you change him back?" "No, I'm afraid he will
always be a girl." "Are you sure," asked mom. "Very sure," said daddy.
"Well," mom said dreamily, probably thinking about a new Mercedes, "you
know, I always wanted a daughter. And if we're rich, we can go shopping
together and buy beautiful clothes and get our hair done and have
manicures. Won't that be ever so much fun, sweetheart. Mother and
daughter." All things considered, she took it really well. And now I am
going to insist on my taking it really well.
Reporter's notes for article:
1. Once it was proven that that people, at least women, could safely
travel instantly to anywhere, business changed forever. A woman
executive could have a breakfast meeting in New York, a conference in
Los Angeles, lunch in Paris, meet a prospective customer in Hong Kong,
stop off in Bombay for dinner, check on a project in Australia and be
back home in Chicago by midnight. No jet lag and no lost time. Male
executives couldn't compete and boards of directors were getting rid of
them. Rather than give up their huge salaries and benefits, they
decided to fight fire with fire by using the transputers, with the
inevitable result. After the first few did it, the rest had no choice.
There is no longer any major company anywhere in the world that is not
run predominantly by women. Since women now run the world's economy,
gender discrimination has ended.
2. The number of remaining men became so perilously low that all of the
major industrial nations passed laws prohibiting anyone under the age
of 25, those in their prime reproductive years, from using the
transputer and they must deposit sperm in a federal bank before they
are eligible. Considering that the need for instant travel was
trickling down to the younger junior executives, who found their new
maternal instinct irresistible and men to knock them up in short
supply, the government had to pass strict laws about using their own
stored sperm for self-impregnation. The expression, "Go fuck yourself!"
took on a new meaning. It was no longer an insult. It was a crime.
3. Married men set off in the morning and, after attending a meeting in
another state or foreign country, returned to a lesbian relationship
with their wives that night, ending the controversy over same sex
marriages.
Reporter's notes for self:
1. Don't let anyone hold your dick during the interview. It really is
distracting.
2. Bring flowers, candy and lots of condoms for date with Danielle
Saturday. She is really hot, really rich and really, really, really
horny.
Oprah
- 16.03.2022
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- Category:
- Humor
