Predators
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GS: Eftom Predators free porn video
Eftom Predators
By Sue Kidder
It is a tough time to be a woman.
I was not always a woman, but when the Great Shift happened two years
ago, I and many other males had to adjust to a sudden change of gender.
And for every male who found 'him'self occupying a female body, there
was usually a female who was discovering 'her' new masculine
attributes.
For a while, chaos reigned. Many people died when they suddenly found
themselves in control of a vehicle or aircraft they did not know how to
handle. Others died because they were in the path of such an out-of-
control vehicle or found themselves as passengers. Some died before
their time because they were swapped into bodies that were far older
than their original bodies. Many people just simply vanished, their
body still alive and occupied, but their personality (or soul) forever
gone.
While many people were swapped with others who were miles away, most
swaps happened in fairly close proximity. A few lucky souls in nursing
homes, for example, found themselves in possession of bodies much
younger than they had previously, when they swapped with the nursing
staff. Some unlucky students in schools found themselves suddenly
decades older than their classmates when they swapped with the
teachers. But most swaps were lateral as far as ages went, with most
age differences being just a few years plus or minus. Schoolchildren
swapping in a classroom, husbands and wives swapping, etc. So the
effects of the Great Shift could have been much worse.
I was Jack Longley, a twenty-two year old college student who had the
misfortune (or good luck? Who knows?) to find myself in possession of
the body of a very attractive nineteen year old coed. The coed's wallet
identified her as Marla Kinsey. I recognized her building as the girl's
dormitory, which sat next door to the boy's dormitory where I had
lived.
As soon as I managed to gather my wits about me and realize that I was
not the only person this amazing event had affected, I ran to my
dormitory to find my body. I was not sure what I expected to do once I
found it, but it seemed somehow important to learn what had become of
it. For all I knew, it might be dead; the news reports were bewildering
but seemed to agree that many people were dying because of this
disaster.
On the way to the boy's dormitory, it occurred to me that maybe I did
not want to know what had become of my original body. If it were not
dead, then it would very likely be occupied by somebody who might not
be happy to meet me. I had a horrible thought that my body might be
inhabited by ME -- that somehow all the memories and personality
currently residing within the body of Marla Kinsey might just be a copy
of the original Jack Longley. If that were true, then I would have lost
everything; I would not be able to reclaim my property (such as it
was), my academic credits, my family, nothing!
I suddenly realized that while I was running toward the boy's
dormitory, many of the boys were running in my direction. One of them
looked familiar and I recognized my body! I ran to intercept him,
hoping that he was carrying the memories and personality of Marla
Kinsey. He saw me approaching him and said, "Marla! Do you know what
has happened? I'm Shirley Flint! Do you know where my body is?"
I was disappointed. If it had been Marla it would have greatly
simplified both our lives, and we could have helped each other adapt if
this switch could not be reversed. I told Shirley that I was the
original owner of his body and still considered myself the owner of
Jack's computer, bankbook, car, and other possessions. I agreed that I
had no reasonable claim on Jack's clothing, since little of it would
fit my new body. This discussion happened while Shirley invaded the
girl's dorm looking for his original body. He finally found it and
learned that it was inhabited by a girl named Wanda Simpson, who had
lived two rooms down the hall.
The original Marla Kinsey never identified herself and I never learned
what became of her. I could only assume she was among the unfortunate
many that died during the panic following the Great Shift.
Eventually the chaos diminished and life settled down to something
approaching normalcy. People adapted. What was left of the government
created identity cross-references so people could track down family
members and friends. Property was distributed where possible to the
original owners, whatever bodies they found themselves inhabiting,
after they identified themselves. Disputes over identity and property
were handled in the courts, although even after two years there were
almost two hundred people claiming to be Bill Gates -- including the
current resident of Gates' body who insists he was among the few people
who did not switch.
I managed to establish my identity and regained possession of my meager
properties and most importantly my academic credits. After working
toward my degree for four years, I would have hated to start over. The
college closed down for a month until things could be restarted and I
resumed my education, graduating as a twenty-year-old woman with a
four-year degree.
Many people opted to keep their original names, so it became common to
meet men named Becky, Marsha, or Sandra, or women named Fred, Tom, or
Charles. I decided to keep my name, thinking a girl named Jack would
fit right into this new society.
Big mistake, as it turned out.
Due to the Great Shift, new words were added to the lexicon. Females
who became males were known as 'eftoms' -- eff-to-ems. Males who became
females were known briefly as 'emtofs,' but that word did not catch on.
Almost immediately we were called exmen and the term stuck, in spite of
Marvel Comics' litigious consternation over the corruption of their 'X-
Men' trademark.
After the initial shock wore off and people started adjusting to their
altered circumstances and lifestyles, the gender-switched began to
realize that they were going to have to come to terms with their new
genders and sexuality. For months you could see women dressed as men
and trying to behave as men. Some men could be seen wearing women's
clothing and attempting to continue a feminine lifestyle in spite of
their masculine physiology and appearance. People were very
uncomfortable with a man acting like a woman, even if they knew the man
had been a female before the Great Shift. And effeminate men soon
discovered that their mincing behavior was hazardous to their health,
especially if they tried to seduce a man who had always been male.
It just didn't work. For the sake of their sanity, the eftoms had to
become men as much as they were able. And we exmen had to learn to be
women.
The eftoms soon discovered that men no longer had any appeal to them
sexually, but women were suddenly very interesting. The exmen likewise
found that a pretty face, shapely legs, a well-rounded butt, or a
magnificent bosom just did not draw their attention anymore, but a
skinny butt, angular features, muscular arms, and a prominent bulge in
the crotch were becoming very attractive.
Shortly after I graduated and began my career with a large corporation
whose name you would surely recognize I realized that I had to do
something. Before the Great Shift I had definite educational and
professional goals, but only a vague notion about marriage and family.
That could wait, I figured, and would probably work itself out in due
course. No doubt I would eventually meet a woman who satisfied my
requirements for a wife and the mother of my children, and we would get
married. Offspring would surely result, and my life would follow a path
very similar to my father's life.
If it did not happen immediately, so what? A man can wait for decades
if he is not happy with the females he encounters. In fact, an older
man is usually better equipped to afford and provide for a family. So
marriage and family was not a priority in my life.
Then the Great Shift happened, and the rules changed. Suddenly I was a
woman and my biological clock was ticking.
I realized that a family and children were very important to me and I
no longer had decades to look for a mate. I would have to bear my
children myself, and a woman needs to have her kids while she is in her
prime reproductive years to improve the odds of having healthy babies.
Like it or not, the hunt was on.
Men had been hitting on me ever since the Great Shift. I politely
turned them down, always trying to be sensitive of their feelings. I
remember what it was like to ask a pretty girl for a date when I was a
man. I knew it often took courage for the guy to ask a girl out, and
even a gentle refusal was a disappointment. I could not bring myself to
bruise their egos if I didn't have to. And I did not want to date men.
It seemed somehow perverted in spite of the obvious fact that I was now
the 'opposite' sex.
After two years of being a woman, learning to live as a woman, seeing
the world react to me and treat me as a woman, and having my body and
brain marinated constantly in female hormones, I finally decided I was
ready to re-enter the dating game. I became more receptive to
approaches by men, realizing that I needed to start looking for a
potential mate.
It was not as easy as I expected. The guys still hit on me, but as soon
as we got past the preliminaries and introduced ourselves, that would
be the end of it.
"By the way, my name is Gerald Arken," one guy said after we had shared
a table at the shopping mall's food court where we met.
"Hi, I'm Jack Longley," I said.
His posture changed slightly, giving almost the appearance of a
defensive attitude. "You're an exman?"
"Well, yeah," I admitted.
"Uh, how old were you at the Great Shift?" he asked.
"I was twenty-two. Why do you ask?"
"That makes you twenty-four now. It's been nice meeting you, but I
don't go out with older women," he said.
Men have such strange hang-ups. Never mind that I was physically
younger than he was, he used my age to justify bolting from the food
court, leaving me sitting there. It was easy to see that he was more
freaked about my previous gender than my age. You'd think that two
years after the Great Shift people would have come to terms with the
idea of gender-switched folks. The eftoms and exmen had to deal with
it, but people who did not switch or who switched into bodies of the
same gender are still having problems with it.
The Great Shift had proven a windfall to psychiatrists, psychologists,
and counselors of every kind. Nobody could count the number of books
published advising eftoms and exmen how to cope with their new genders
and lifestyles. These books were equaled by the titles exploring the
gender hangups of the non-switched population.
Men, it seems, view exmen with suspicion and distrust. Theories abound
that they were concerned that an exman would be resentful of her
situation, and hard to fool because she would know how a man really
thinks. Men feared that an exman would constantly be competing with
them and trying to become the dominant partner. They thought an exman
would think of herself as the 'husband' and would emasculate and even
feminize her mate.
All nonsense, of course.
The previous scene, or variations of it, happened often enough to be
very discouraging. The men who did not run when they found out I was an
exman all too often saw it as their duty to introduce me to the
pleasures of womanhood. Dozens of dates were aborted early when the guy
started getting too close or kept suggesting in inventively euphemistic
ways that I should let him make a 'real woman' of me.
I'm not that kind of girl!
It began to look like I would have better luck with an eftom. After
all, who would better understand a woman than a man who used to be one?
Surely an eftom would be sensitive, caring, and patient -- as well as
sympathetic to the plight of an exman.
As luck would have it, I learned that Shirley Flint had just signed on
with my company. I decided to see if I could look him up and maybe
develop a friendship. Perhaps things would progress from there.
Maybe my hopes were too optimistic or unrealistic, but I was driven by
a fantasy of possibly marrying my original body, having kids, and thus
perpetuate the genes I was born with. Since I could not be the father
of 'my' kids, it might be possible to become their mother.
I found Shirley in the company cafeteria sitting by himself. I guess he
was still new enough in the company that he had not made many friends
yet. I selected a salad and orange juice and sat across from him at his
table.
"Hi, Shirley," I greeted him. "Fancy meeting you here."
He looked up at me, puzzled briefly. Then, "Oh, hi, Marla. No! It's
Jack, isn't it?"
"That's right. It's good to see you again. And I'm happy to see that
you've kept my body in good condition," I said.
He smiled. "Yeah, this is a great body! After the initial shock wore
off I really started to enjoy being a man."
"I know what you mean. Once I accepted that I was going to be a woman
for the rest of my life, I began to see the good things about it.
Anything else would have driven me crazy. That's not to say I wouldn't
swap back in an instant if it were possible," I said.
"Don't get any ideas," he grinned. "Even if it were possible to swap
again, you aren't getting this body back! It's mine now, and I'm
keeping it. I see you've kept Marla's body in great shape too. You'd be
crazy to give that up. You look good!"
"Thanks." I smiled at the compliment.
The ice was broken, and we enjoyed the rest of our lunch. Shirley
brought me up to date with his life. He had been a couple years behind
me and just graduated this spring. The Great Shift had given me a
couple of years, but it had cost him a couple. He is physically two
years older than I am, even though I was born two years before 'she'
was, in our previous lives.
Since his specialty was also sought after by the company, he was
offered a position immediately upon graduation. He worked in a
different department, but we would be in fairly close proximity nearly
every day. When we returned to work after lunch, I felt like a
friendship had been ignited.
Over the next several weeks we saw each other frequently and often ate
lunch together. After some maybe not-so-subtle probing I learned that
Shirley did not have a girlfriend, although he had dated occasionally
and had even experimented sexually.
When Shirley did not pick up on my many hints, I decided to push our
friendship to the next stage. I made some preparations, and the next
day at lunch, "Shirley, I have a couple of big steaks that my parents
gave me. It is far too much for me, so I thought I might cook a dinner
for two tonight. Would you have dinner with me?"
He seemed slightly startled, as if he was not used to women asking him
for a date. I could see the idea percolating in his mind as he studied
my invitation. He smiled and said, "I'd be delighted, Jack. When do you
want me there?"
"How about seven-thirty?"
"I'll be there," he said. I gave him my address and telephone number.
I went straight home after work. On the way home a car that had a
bumper sticker reading "Shift Happens" passed me. I wondered what that
driver's story was. There are so many stories of the Great Shift. Sad
stories, tragic stories, happy stories, and strange stories. My own
story may be rather bland compared to many, but I am still hoping it
will have a happy ending.
Home finally and took a quick shower. I debated whether to dress
seductively or casually, finally opting for a casual look of jeans and
a nice blouse. This friendship may eventually blossom into a passionate
romance, but I did not want to rush it. For this date, I wanted to
present an image of a girl-next-door who was comfortable in her gender
and capable of cooking for and entertaining a gentleman. I was hoping
this would be the first of many dates.
Shirley showed up promptly at seven-thirty. I was impressed with his
punctuality, all the more since I knew he was an eftom. My experience
with women, before I became one, was that they were rarely on time for
anything. I suspected their mothers taught them that it was 'mysterious
and seductive' to keep the man waiting, though it only annoyed me.
After the Great Shift, I swore I would never use that tactic.
He brought flowers and a bottle of wine. "You're looking good, Jack.
And that dinner smells wonderful!"
"Thank you, Shirley." I put the flowers into a vase. "Thanks for the
wine, but I should have told you I don't drink."
"Not even a little bit?" he asked.
"I'm afraid not. There is a history of alcoholism in my family, and I
figure the only way to escape becoming an alcoholic myself is to avoid
all forms of the stuff."
"Okay, but remember that you are no longer biologically related to the
alcoholics in your family since the Great Shift," he said.
"That's true," I agreed. "But old habits die hard. I don't know how
Marla's family copes with alcohol, and I don't want to risk it. I've
seen too much of what alcoholism can do to individuals and families.
Complete abstinence may be a drastic remedy, but I am resolved that I
will never end up the way my grandfather and some of my uncles did."
"You're right, that is a drastic remedy. A little sip every now and
then never hurt anybody. Maybe you'll share some with me after dinner?"
"No thanks. And don't forget, if my family has a biological tendency
toward alcoholism, you are now in line to inherit that legacy. You may
want to consider abstinence too," I pointed out.
"Nah, I can handle it. If you won't drink with me, then I'll drink by
myself," he said.
"If you insist." I poured some of his wine into a plain tumbler, since
I did not own any fancy wineglasses. "Bring it to the table. Dinner is
served."
Since becoming female, I have learned how to cook. I knew it would be
expected of me, and I had always wanted to learn anyway. My dinner
turned out very well, and Shirley confirmed it by finishing his plate
and complimenting me on the meal. I refilled his glass and suggested,
"Why don't you go into the living room while I tidy up a bit?"
"Don't keep me waiting," he said.
I threw the leftovers into the refrigerator and the dishes into the
dishwasher. I found Shirley in the living room sipping on his wine and
channel surfing on the television.
"I notice you have an interesting variety of DVD movies in your
collection. Since you were a guy, I expected to see the action and
adventure movies, but you have several 'chick-flicks' in your
collection also," he observed.
"Yeah, my tastes have changed over the past couple of years. Do you see
one you would like to watch?"
"Nah. Let's cut to the chase and stop wasting time," he said.
"What do you mean?" I asked, although I was getting an unpleasant
feeling that I already knew.
"Enough of the game playing. I am a man and you used to be one. It is
obvious that you asked me here for sex. Well, I'm ready and willing,"
he said.
Shirley took a quick step toward me and wrapped his arms around my
shoulders, pinning my arms to my sides. He kissed me on the lips, much
more forcibly than I felt comfortable with, and I could feel his tongue
trying to force itself between my lips.
I jerked my head back and said, "No! This is not what I wanted. You're
moving much too fast! Let me go!"
"Come on, you know you want it. Just because you wear pantyhose now
instead of boxers doesn't mean you don't still think like a man. Men
only want sex, and I am here to give you what you want."
I could smell the wine on his breath. I did not think he had drunk
enough to really be inebriated yet, but with his biological tendency
toward alcoholism I wondered if the small amount affected him more than
it would have affected someone else. I also wondered if he had been
drinking before he arrived.
He refused to release me, and was beginning to hold me with one hand
while fondling my breasts with the other. He started unbuttoning my
blouse.
"That's enough!" I told him. "Let me go!"
"What kind of prude are you?" he asked. "You've been a woman for two
years and never yet indulged yourself in the ultimate feminine
experience? Well brace yourself; you are going to learn what being
female is all about!"
"I'm not going to be raped by the likes of you," I told him. He was
still holding me face-to-face in a grip I could not break. So I did the
only thing I could think of. I brought my knee up between his legs as
hard and as fast as I could.
There was a sharp intake of breath and he pushed me away. His eyes were
huge and his mouth was wide open. He grabbed his crotch with both hands
and collapsed on the floor, doubled up in obviously excruciating pain.
Then he screamed.
As soon as he pushed me away I ran to the door and opened it. His
scream echoed down the hallway and brought my neighbors running. I was
on the verge of tears and some of the women comforted me. A couple of
their husbands stood over Shirley and asked me what I wanted them to do
with him.
"Just get him out of here. I never want to see him again," I told them.
They gave Shirley a few minutes to recover enough to get back on his
feet. Then they escorted him outside and explained to him in very
explicit language just how dangerous it would be for him ever to be
seen in this neighborhood again.
This whole episode was a crushing disappointment to me. Even the
knowledge that eftoms lack the almost instinctive compulsion to protect
their testicles did little to cheer me up. It had been a gamble, but in
hindsight it made sense that an eftom did not grow up learning to
shield the most vulnerable masculine organs from accidental or
deliberate attack. I would be willing to bet that Shirley won't be
caught like that again, but his carelessness this time saved me from
being raped.
I took a perverse pleasure out of the idea that I had introduced
Shirley to the 'ultimate masculine experience,' even if it was not the
one he was hoping for.
I could not let this misadventure deter me. Obviously, eftoms were not
going to be the sympathetic and understanding potential mates that I
envisioned. Certainly not all of them, anyway. Separating the good
eftoms from the bad eftoms is evidently going to be every bit as hard
as evaluating any other kind of man.
I resolved to change my name, however. Jack has been a disadvantage,
tagging me for an exman before I could even get a chance to know
someone. As soon as the paperwork is done and the court agrees, I will
become Marla Longley. If necessary or expedient, I can pretend to be a
'born' girl until I decide whether to reveal my pre-Great Shift
identity to my prospective mate. Just thinking about doing that makes
me feel deceitful, but I've come to believe it is necessary.
I'm not giving up. I will find a mate and I will have beautiful
children and a wonderful family. If it is within the realm of
possibility, I intend to live happily ever after.
It may not be easy, but let the hunt resume!
Yes, it is a tough time to be a woman. But then, I suspect it has
ALWAYS been tough to be a woman.
The End.
Author's Notes:
My thanks to Morpheus for the loan of his Great Shift universe.
My thanks also to Terry Sarkel for her work in reading and editing this
little tale.
Wynona
- 13.12.2021
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