Altered Fates: Freefalling free porn video

Freefalling By Elliot Reid My name was Joseph, but now you can call me Jo. I have been through some changes, courtesy of the Medallion. The Medallion appeared out of nowhere. I have no clue how it came to me. One day I didn't have it, the next day it turned up in an old shoebox at the back of the closet. The box was full of junk, the lifetime bric-a-brac you gather like lint; a sewing kit, some nail clippers, a tape measure, lengths of elastic. I was searching for a spare shirt button when I pulled out a yellowed and scuffed plastic baggie I hadn't seen before, containing a small gold medal. There was a label on the plastic in unfamiliar handwriting; it said 'Zulo'. I blinked, carefully stowed the bag in the shoebox and pushed it back in its hole in the closet. The Medallion of Zulo was in my possession. I knew in my bones it was the real deal. If you know the Zulo urban legends, this may seem like strange behavior, but hear me out. I didn't need to test the Medallion's magic that minute. I was now living the legend and I knew there were certain conventions to be followed. Rules are rules and by rights the stories don't break them. Back six or seven years ago, when I was in therapy, I first heard the Zulo stories. There were dozens of them. Chrissie introduced me to them. I was doing the psych assessments as part of my gender reassignment program. Chrissie was a pre-op transsexual I made friends with at the clinic, a motormouth with a string of anecdotes about her party life. We were having coffee in the cafeteria when she asked me, "Do you believe in magic?" "You mean rabbits out of hats? Sawing showgirls in half?" "No, sailor boy. I mean hubble, bubble, toil and trouble. The voodoo that you do." "Nah, that's superstition," I replied. Chrissie was giving me the Hard Stare from behind a frame of dark hair. You could tell she'd be successful as a woman. She already had a femme face, though let down slightly by her square jaw line. She'd talked about getting that 'fixed' under the knife. "You believe in science heroes, though," she said. "Yes, but that's science, not mysticism," I countered. "Even if the scientists still haven't figured it all out?" She had me there. The big name science heroes had superhuman abilities. Theorists were still unraveling the physics behind it, yet I'd attended the rescue where Firedrake walked through an inferno to pull trapped people to safety. I'd seen Mind Titan psychically suppress a gang riot and Ironfist fly unaided through the sky. I couldn't explain it. "Any sufficiently advanced technology resembles magic," I admitted, reluctantly. Chrissie, like some high priestess, raised her hands and spread them wide. "The world is full of miracles, child. Anything that science cannot explain is either magic or divine. When Queen Crimson conjured those demons, what did you think they were?" "Well, maybe they were physical manifestations projected from her subconscious Id. At least, that's what the papers said. She was a telekinetic. She was also a crazy, if you hadn't noticed." "Or maybe it was magic," Chrissie said, shooting me her don't-you-dare- contradict look. "So color me a skeptic," I grinned. "Where's this leading?" "You want to become a woman, right? Have you heard about the Medallion of Zulo?" I hadn't, so she began this story about a friend of a friend (isn't it always a friend once removed?) who had come across the Medallion--or maybe it had found him in response to some deep-seated desire. This nondescript little medal had a magic power--some heavy hoodoo. If touched to an item of clothing it would transform the wearer of the Medallion's into a doppelganger of whoever last wore that garment. Having borrowed part of his ex's wardrobe, Chrissie's friend-in-law was now living a desperate housewife life in a chintzy suburb of Richmond. I laughed. It made no sense, and I told Chrissie so. If you could build a device to transmute matter, why would you make something so bizarre and impractical? Except maybe as a cosmic joke. "Maybe it is a joke," Chrissie warned, "a big fat joke on all us girls." I came across more of these urban legends over the following months. The tales were all similar, though with different settings and discrepancies of detail. For guys undergoing gender reassignment they became this magical wish-fulfillment fantasy, passed on by word of mouth. Chrissie may have been right about the joke. There were plenty of laugh-out-loud endings. In some versions of the story there were accidents, with brothers becoming sisters and mothers becoming sons. And in every case once the transformation was complete the medallion would get lost or be stolen or vanish into thin air, leaving the subject stuck in a strange body. Their fate was altered forever, though many preferred their new life. Then the medal would reappear somewhere else, with a new fate to influence. It was a dumb fairy tale, yet the story gnawed at my imagination. In the stories, the transformation was quick, painless and perfect. A man would touch the medal to a girl's dress and morph into a real, honest-to-God woman in the blink of an eye. No hormones, no therapy, no treatments, no operation. Nerds became babes and balding losers became dripping hot cheerleaders. It was a wet dream fantasy. I would jerk myself off to the dream and feel stupid afterwards. I gave up the therapy and the gender reassignment program after Mom and Dad passed away, an event that threw me into a depressive spiral. My marriage briefly filled the void and when I parted with Jessica--I only hit her the once, I swear--a numbness and inertia took hold. I didn't fight to save the marriage. Instead, the hospital and the paramedical work began to rule my life, its odd shifts and rhythms disturbing my ability to build a social life. I tried dating guys. Okay, 'dating' is not the word--the first was more a rough bi-curious fumbling with an intern in the tile-cold dampness of the men's room. The second was a delicately handsome lab technician who lasted just long enough to discover what a wretch my depressions transformed me into. I made no attempt to try and get him back. I found I still jerked myself off to fantasy women; I was bi- rather than gay. And then the Medallion of Zulo dropped into my empty life, like manna from heaven. By now I was a true believer in the magic. I was a product of faith and desperation. No, I didn't rush out to buy a cocktail frock and turn myself into Audrey Hepburn. I was going to play this legend by its rules. I reckoned I had at least one shot at a transformation before the dingus vanished from my life, leaving me stuck. One change, and then all bets were off. The magic was too untrustworthy and unpredictable. If I was going to do this, I was going to do it right, on my terms. I spent a day pacing my steel-cold apartment while rain pitter-patted the windows, desperately trying to stop myself r going to risk becoming someone unsatisfactory only to lose the medallion. I wanted this to change my life for the better, but how? Inspiration came as the TV strobed a news report about science heroes involved in a SWAT operation. They were part of the Protectors team. The answer was clear--if I was going to change, I would become a science heroine. I wanted powers. I REALLY wanted powers. Who wouldn't? * * * They reckon that one person in six hundred thousand has science powers. Few of these 'powers' are powerful. Most people who have them make a crust doing little more than circus tricks. What use is the power to change the color of objects, except to make a living as a kid's entertainer? What use is the power to shrink eighteen inches? Or to have eyes that see nothing but music? Your classical hero powers--the ability to levitate or deflect bullets--are extremely rare. The Forster Act is supposed to regulate these people, and there are science powered agents deputized to work for the government, those who work as freelances and, of course, the occasional crook. Everyone is afraid that someone will appear with the power to snuff out suns. You just hope to God that if a human as powerful as that comes along they'll have a conscience. The Zulo stories all said the change made a physical duplicate of the original person, perfect in every way. If I used a superheroine's uniform to change, would I gain science powers? I needed to find out. I needed a used costume. Some desperate research revealed there were no originals for sale, and collectors' copies weren't going to do the trick. I decided to go to the source. So I quit my job at Sacred Heart hospital and ended up a security guard in a swish Manhattan condo near the park. To my surprise, it wasn't hard to get the job. They preferred ex-military guys and my spell in the coastguard and eight years in nursing and paramedical gave me a good- looking resume. I was scrubbed up presentably and aced the interview. I soon had a shift on the front desk, watching CCTV cameras, walking the rounds and making pleasantries with the wealthy residents. Why was I here? Well, the condo was the home of Freefall: science hero, celebrity, and member of the East Coast Protectors. She was a tiny redhead bombshell in bright red leather skintights who could fly and level buildings with a wave of her hand. Freefall owned a penthouse apartment with plenty of privacy. I hardly saw her, but that wasn't the point. I needed proximity. I had this half-crazy notion that I could get into her apartment, boost a piece of clothing and be away. Steve Denson worked the shift with me. He was a great guy: a silver-haired ex-Ranger who'd been in southeast Asia forty years before. He didn't talk about it much, which indicated, in my experience, that he had probably killed a lot of people and found the experience distasteful. He led a frugal life, saving for his retirement and driving his wife bananas with his mean living. But he had a big heart and looked after the ex-Coastguard with the star-struck expression whenever Freefall swished past. He also made me appreciate how good the TV security was. I wasn't going to get into Freefall's apartment without being recorded, time stamped and notarized. Then he introduced me to Hiromi. Hiromi was the Asian maid who cleaned Freefall's apartment; a sly old bird in graceful late middle-age who would look at you out of the corner of her eye as if you were about to say something really stupid. She was on first-name terms with Freefall and when she talked about her it was 'Anna' this and 'Anna' that. Steve, Hiromi and I would end our shifts at the same time and he would invite us both for a coffee at the diner around the corner, which I would pay for. The old miser had been pulling this scam for years, getting the young spud to subsidize his coffee habit. But I was happy for the company and the chance to talk to Hiromi. Hiromi was good fun: full of piss and vinegar. She repeatedly made a point of telling me she'd signed these non-disclosure agreements, which meant she couldn't say anything about her employer or else the lawyers would nail her to the wall, and then she'd spill the latest story. To be honest, it wasn't anything you wouldn't learn from a gossip column or TV. She mostly talked about party frocks, Anna's latest boyfriend and the famous folk who came to visit last week. Anodyne stuff. After a while I realized that Hiromi really WASN'T letting on and there was nothing she'd told me that would get her fired. But all the same she occasionally let slip clues that built a more rounded picture of Freefall. For example, I hadn't realized how old she was. She looks, what, mid-twenties, tops? But Hiromi said she was well into her forties. Maybe her powers kept her preserved. The impression I got of Anna from Hiromi was someone who was hard-nosed and shrewd. She had been given powers by God or science and knew how to market her looks and abilities and turn them into wealth. Anna was a tough little doll, a survivor who made the world work the way she wanted it. To be honest, that was a turnoff. I've done some callous things in my time but I don't have that streak of sustained ruthlessness. But it made me think: what if that rubbed off on me? A few of the Zulo legends said that if you let the change go on long enough you took on the characteristics of the original person. The stories were as opaque on this as ever, but the hint was that memories or personality might transfer. Caveat emptor. Be careful what you wish for. The Zulo magic was treacherous and prone to jokes at people's expense. When Hiromi talked I lapped it up and played the devoted fan, which in a sense I was. Steve kept out of it, figuring rightly that it was none of his business and anyway he was there for the free coffee. Usually, Steve and Hiromi left to go home at the same time. But one day he had to get off early and so left me sitting there with the maid, just chatting. That's when I broached the subject dear to my heart. "Look, H, I was wondering whether I could get, like some memento of Anna's; something personal." I got the 'crazy-man' look from Hiromi. "What is this? You want me to steal from her?" "No, no, no. No stealing. Look, I don't want to lose my job or yours. No, really. It must be totally legal. I was just thinking of something castoff, a throwaway item, maybe something she's no use for any more." "Like what?" Hiromi's eyes were pebble-black, impenetrable as Ray-Bans. I couldn't read her, the canny old bird. Did she think this was some kind of security shakedown, a loyalty test? "Look, I'm a fan of Anna's. A big fan, you know that. I'd just like to collect something. Not to trade or make money on eBay--just to have a keepsake." "You haven't told me what you want." I took a deep breath. It was now or never. "I want one of her old costumes." I'll say this for her, she didn't blink, didn't laugh, didn't give me more of a hard time than I'd expected. "Are you serious? Are you a pervert or something? A stalker?" I laughed. "Do I look like a pervert?" "Yeah. You want to sniff her skintights. You want to dress up as her. You want to do something wrong." "I'll pay." "How much?" she stated, flatly. And that was that. Oh, for sure Hiromi ragged on me for the next two weeks, telling me I was this humongous pervert stalking her employer and joke-threatening to turn me in to the cops. But she believed I was a sincere fan and collector. We had a deal and I trusted her to follow through. We kept this quiet from Steve as he was an upright man and would have been appalled to hear what was happening on his watch. Hiromi WAS very loyal to Freefall, but there were time when her principles could be flexible. She told me that Freefall got through costumes at a furious rate. Anna had this personal forcefield that didn't always stop everything thrown at her and sometimes her leather skintights got ripped. Either that or wear and tear got the better of them and they had to be replaced by made-to-measure new sets. Old costumes would be given to a contractor to destroy so they wouldn't fall into collectors' hands, but Hiromi had an arrangement with the pick-up guy, and for the right price she could lay her hands on a set. She'd done this a couple of times before and the money was her nest-egg. It wasn't strictly legal but she saw it as a perk of the job. So, five thousand dollars lighter, I met up with Hiromi one Sunday morning at her apartment in a small brownstone. We had a cup of green tea and she gave me a sports bag full of red leather. I touched the bag. "This is an actual original costume, H? The real deal, no copy?" "Take a look for yourself. It's the one she wore fighting that bitch Queen Crimson. You can see the damage." Who could forget that battle? Unlike the comic books real-world science heroes rarely fought in public. Maybe it was the risk of collateral damage. Mostly it was because their cop business was done in private, away from the public gaze, and you only heard about it in trial reports. But the Queen Crimson donnybrook was the real thing, fought out over Bridgeport, half trashing a neighborhood while live TV tracked Freefall and Ironfist tag-teaming the Queen and her demon legions. I remember watching the tube as they pulled a barely conscious Freefall out of the wreckage of some screaming couple's ranch home. Anna was beat up and she limped to an ambulance, where she had to be helped in. Next day she appeared at a press conference nursing a big yellow bruise on one cheek while Queen Crimson was arraigned in manacles, standing under heavy-grade power draining devices. I pulled the skintights out and they unfolded into a one-piece red costume, unmistakably Freefall's. They covered the body from neck to toe, save for the hands, and zipped near-invisibly up at the front. They had been tailored to hug Anna's contours and I could see the fine stitching around the generous cups of the bust. The boots at the bottom had a mirror shine. Most important of all, they had been worn. The burnished leather had bunched and creased at the joints, and there were tiny tears and distressing in places where it looked like the costume had been dragged through rubble. I was disappointed to see that one flap of leather on the leg had been ripped loose, showing a strange weave beneath. "What's that?" I pointed it out. "Flak armor," said H. "I don't know exactly but it's some kind of thin cloth like Kevlar they use to line the suit. Anna says it can stop a bullet!" I didn't quibble. "Look again in the bag," commanded Hiromi. I rummaged inside and pulled out two more items. What looked like a pair of tight-looking lycra shorts and something cupped and strapless. "Underwear for the pervert," said H. "No extra charge." I smiled and thanked Hiromi. Repacking the sports bag, I left. I had the Ford loaded outside and a week's vacation ahead of me. I reached into my pocket to check the baggie with the Medallion was still there. It was. If this worked out Joseph Michael Doyle was never coming back. * * * The previous day I had gone to see my pal Chrissie, who was now post-op and living happily in--ha ha--Queens. Chrissie lived on a substantial trust fund from her architect dad and had an airy apartment in a Boho neighborhood of Astoria. She never seemed to cook, but lived off the ethnic cuisine in the area. Although Chrissie was financially comfortable, she made brisk money designing advertising brochures for big accounts, working in the corner of the loft space that was her studio. Chrissie's face was still a bit too square and her hands too large for her to be perfectly feminine, but her pliant figure was nice and she turned heads on the street. Her waspish humor remained intact and she spent the first five minutes razzing me about how I was going to seed eating donuts in my security job. "God knows that's not donuts," I said. "Since I hit 35 my whole body has changed. I've been jogging but everything is shifting gutward. I can't lose the thickness." "Sure you can, boyfriend. Go to the gym and work on those abs. Feeel the burn! Do it before you grow man-boobs!" We laughed and drank Chrissie's fine filter coffee while dust motes danced around the breakfast nook. Then I asked her the question. "Chrissie, you know that story you told me of how you helped fake the resident status of your friend's maid, is that true? I mean, no bull?" "Why do you ask?" "Seriously, girl. Did you get her, like, ID and social security and stuff?" "I might know someone who knows someone." That much was true. Chrissie seemed to have the contact book o' God. "Where's this going?" "Might they be able to help me?" "Oh my God. You serious?" "Yes. Serious as a serious thing on Serious Day in Seriousland." "Oh my God. You in trouble?" "No. No, honest." "Come on, come on... explain, you bad boy! Your Aunt Chris is all ears!" "Okay then. What if I told you--no kidding, true as I'm standing here--I had Zulo." Six "Oh My God's" later, I'd calmed Chrissie down enough to half-explain that I was going to try begin life anew as a woman. I didn't mention the science hero or powers part. "You have the medal with you?" She asked. "No, it's hidden in a safe place." "You're really going through with this?" "Mm mmmm," I nodded. "This is actually going to work, like, you become a real woman? All the equipment... everything?" I was surprised at the doubt in her voice. I assumed Chrissie believed the legends because she'd told me them in the first place, but I suppose there's a world of difference between a fairy story and a legend come to life. "Look, Chrissie. If an unfamiliar woman comes back here and tells you she's Joe, will you help her out? I mean she'll have savings and..." "Don't care about cash, boyfriend. I'll help you on one condition." "What's that?" "If this works, you let me have the Medallion when you're finished with it." I looked at Chrissie and she stared back, intensely. "You want it?" I asked. "Look, Joe. I'm a woman, but not all woman. This Voodoo accessory could be a route to making Christine Palmer one hundred percent girl. Can I have it after you? Pretty please?" I smiled. "If I still have it, it's yours. Promise." "Deal." And that was that. We hugged. I said to expect me in about a week. * * * I drove up into the Adirondacks. It had cost me, but I had rented a luxury backwoods cabin near the Fourpeaks; a comfortable retreat with all modern conveniences. The pleasant, folksy lady on the 'phone had promised plenty of outdoor space and privacy. I told her I would pick up the keys for my 'daughter' who'd be staying and pay the bill in advance. By the time I eventually pulled up to the green-gabled cabin by the trees I was beat, but at the same time knotted with tense excitement. Months of planning had culminated in this day, the start of a new life. I wanted it to be just perfect. It took an iron discipline to offload the car and unpack the groceries in the small, clean kitchen. But with the chores done, I could wait no longer. In the bedroom, with its warm landscape prints and watercolors, I had three bags. One held my clothes, one had Freefall's costume, and one was packed with women's clothing. Fortunately, Freefall's measurements were not hard to find on the 'net, and a spell of department store shopping on behalf of my 'daughter' had given me a wardrobe that, I hoped, would fit me after I'd changed. I pulled the curtains shut and unpacked Freefall's skintights, laying them out on the large, sprung bed. I placed the baggie with the Medallion of Zulo next to them. Then in the bathroom I stripped, threw my old clothes into a basket and took a shower. This was part of the ritual, the washing away of my bad old life. The shower was brief, because my stomach was tight with excitement. I let the water drip off then toweled myself dry and walked back into the bedroom. I was naked. My hands trembled as I pulled the shining medal out of the baggie. There it was, as the legend said, with some kind of script around the rim and a motif on one side of an angel. I held it in my right hand and then, with the left, picked up and pressed the costume's red leather to it. There was a sudden, mild electric shock. With the medal and leather scrunched into my palm, I walked over to the full-length mirror bolted to the wall. I still looked like Joe, a thirty-something guy whose muscle had melted slightly and was no longer the lean, fit youth he'd been. I could feel a tingling grow, like pins and needles, from neck to toe. The only place not tingling was my hands and face. As if it had a life of its own, my skin began to change and shift and crawl in time with my breathing. It was so weird. The hair on my chest and arms seemed to thin and disappear. Everything started getting skinnier. My feet were getting wider and wider apart--my whole body was shrinking and I had to shift where my feet were planted. The transformation happened in pulses. I breathed in and my body would change; I breathed out and the change briefly halted. It was like watching a stop motion movie of a flower unfurl, in gentle waves. I watched, dumbfounded, enjoying every second and every new sensation. My skin seemed smoother and less blemished, my waist was starting to narrow, my hips flared. Some changes were so subtle that you didn't notice them until after they happened. Others manifested as you watched. My eyes were drawn to my crotch where my penis was visibly contracting and my balls were retreating upward, aching slightly as they did. No sign of breasts yet, though in one breath my nipples seemed to grow and darken slightly, and I felt an intense prickle in each. The only strange thing was that my hands and face hadn't changed; they looked grotesque and outsized on my shrinking figure. Then it dawned that only those parts of the body covered by the skintights were transforming. I briefly panicked and had to calm myself and trust that the rest would begin the change soon. The leathers were sweaty in my palm, but I didn't let go. I wanted to make sure I gained Freefall's science powers. I'd stopped shrinking and by now I was half way between masculine and feminine. I had to stop myself from touching my body, as the changes accelerated and flesh began to flow like quicksilver. I wanted this to be perfect: to save the exploration until the change was complete. The pulsing and tingling became more intense. It now seemed to settle on one area of my body at a time. My legs became shapely and my feet small and neat. Then suddenly all the sensation was in my tummy, as my rib cage seemed to tighten, expelling some of my breath, and beneath it a narrow waist formed with a flat stomach, my navel seeming to stretch vertically. My shoulders shrank and arms slimmed, and finally my hands and face began to tingle and alter. My eyesight blurred as I realized my eyes were changing, then it flicked back into sharp focus. I now had green, flashing, almond eyes to replace my old brown ones and the world seemed suddenly sharper, the colors brighter and more vibrant. I noticed my head, like my hands, had become proportional to the rest of my new body, its heavy lines softening into an oval, my lips bowing and puffing slightly. The tingle shifted back down between my legs and in ten breaths I saw the last vestiges of my penis disappear into a lightening tangle of hair. I was going to be a real redhead. From my scalp, straight red hair began to drop down to my shoulders, framing my new, fine-featured face. My fanny shifted and I could make out a smoothly contoured, peach behind. Then, as if they'd saved the best 'til last, the pulsing sensation shifted to my chest. In time to my breathing I could see breasts begin to bud and grow, stretching and expanding the nipples further. The deep tingling pleasure started to thrill me. At first my boobs were tiny, tip-tilted things, growing into two small cones, the nipples pointed away from each other. Then they swelled into two large teardrops, swaying slightly under their weight. The transformation was almost complete. I was crying, I felt so happy. My vision blurred again as tears ran. And then I felt the pain. I hadn't expected the sharp, intense pain. I blacked out and fell. * * * When I woke up all I could feel at first was an aching throb. My eyes could barely open. My brain tried to reorient itself. I was lying on the floor. I felt the warm roughness of carpet under my back and behind. The ache began to die away slightly. I shut my eyes and took stock. There were strange sensations I hadn't expected, such as breathing, which was faster than when I'd been a man. That was weird. And my heartbeat; I could feel the quickstep thumpa-thumpa of my pulse; a fractionally different rhythm. And then there was my mouth; I ran my tongue around the inside and it felt so strange and different. My teeth felt regular and smooth and the taste was somehow sweet. I finally opened my eyes and tried to haul myself up. I almost wished I hadn't, as a sharp pain in my side and leg reminded me of the hurt. I looked into the mirror and saw a stunning young redhead roll painfully to her knees. I looked like Freefall's twin, only nude. I still had the medal and skintights in my right hand, holding on with a white knuckle deathgrip. It was difficult to relax the fingers and let both drop to the floor. Freefall, or should I say Anna, was one of those small, curvy girls who seem to become glamour models. I had all her curves now, but I also had livid bruises on my leg, side and face. Of course! I flopped over to the bed and climbed on, cursing my lack of foresight. Freefall had taken off this costume after the fight with Queen Crimson. It came with all the injuries she'd taken that day. The yellowed welts on my body matched the damage to the skintights. How could I have been so foolish! I lightly touched the bruise on my face and it felt sore as hell. I knew I'd be okay if I didn't touch it again. So much for my 'perfect' transformation. However, I was feeling less bad now, so long as I didn't move too much. I decided to make the best of the situation and after getting comfortable on the bed I began to slowly and carefully check out my body. At first, it was the details that struck me. This wasn't the airbrushed swimsuit photo spread Anna had done for the magazines. My hands were small, without long nails. My slender arms were covered in fine hairs and there were tiny moles and blemishes. There were a number of scars of white tissue--old combat injuries, maybe? I looked down at my chest and the first thing I noticed was how pale, near- translucent my skin was. I picked out the faint tracery of veins across my breasts. My hands, almost on autopilot, slid up to touch my chest, caressing and gently kneading the smooth flesh. It struck me how yielding my breasts were--not the firm outthrust mounds I'd imagined, but utterly soft, doughy and delicate. It was also strange that I didn't feel any great pleasure touching them, at least not until one of my slender new fingers brushed past a nipple. Suddenly a charge seemed to go through my body, almost blocking out the ache and hurt. I lay back on the bed, with the dead weight of my bosom puddling across my chest, and my fingers began to pluck and tease at my nipples. In seconds they became erect and hard. My breath became sharper and the fingers worked the teats more eagerly, caressing the aureoles and brushing at the tips. I knew all the nerve endings in my breasts were here and it felt SO good. A pressure was starting to grow between my legs. My back arched slightly which only made the pressure grow and fill my insides. I kept my left hand working a breast while the right began to slide downwards, over my taut, firm belly to my thighs. I could feel the tension there, the muscles, around the hot, wet center of my sex. I pulled my feet back so my knees were raised off the bed, my legs spread slightly. My forefinger sought out the silken inside of a thigh and a tender caress sent a zap of pleasure up my spine. I did it again and there were more shocks, though not as intense. I stopped for a moment and immediately wished I hadn't. The charge in my body began to dissipate, my nipples started to soften and I could feel a tiredness start to creep back in. So I pulled both hands up again to cup and caress my boobs, bringing the tips back to attention and letting the pressure build back between my legs. I was starting to get into a rhythm and it felt good, so my hand began to wander back down again. The sheer, sleek touch of my thighs felt like nothing on Earth. Finally, I let my hand drift toward my pussy. There was a momentary fumbling in unfamiliar territory: my thumb grazing across a bush of soft hair as I felt out over the mons pubis to my vagina. The labia felt strange and yielding to my fingertips, with no feeling of arousal. So I stroked upwards from my ass until my middle finger reached almost back to the pubic mound. Pushing into the unfamiliar folds of flesh, I hit paydirt. A tremor pulsed out from my vagina and up my spine. My mouth made an 'O'. I was tremendously hot and wet down there and with rising expectation I slid my fingertip up to the clitoris. I touched the small, wet button and gasped audibly as I felt an amazing buzz spread through my loins, making the pressure build further. I was now starting to work furiously, one hand flicking a nipple and the other working the clit, slip-slipping at the tiny nubbin that was now the center of my world. It needed only the lightest touch to thrill me. Time telescoped. I lost track of how long this went on. The feeling and tension just got bigger and bigger until it burst like a rain cloud. My whole body shuddered and I sobbed as a wave of pleasure enfolded and lifted me. I could feel the sharp pains again, but no matter: they mingled and were lost in the blissful sensations. And then it was over and I was breathing hard, winding down, basking in the afterglow. I hadn't screamed, as one ex-girlfriend had done. I'd moaned and then, in ecstatic release, had cried, tears coursing my face, sobbing my heart out. I'd cried twice in one day. I hadn't cried since I was a kid. What had happened to me? What was this body doing to me? After a short, dreamy wait I began to pleasure myself again, enjoying the new sensations. I brought myself to climax twice more and then lay panting on the sheets. * * * When I felt able I pulled myself up off the bed. I was starting to cool down but I was sticky from sweat and needed another shower. It was the first time I'd walked in my new body and the strange new stimulus was overwhelming me. Muscles pulled in odd ways; the weight and balance of this body was different and my hips moved oddly. I was aware of the sway of my breasts. Correction, I was just AWARE of them, all the time, pulling gently at my chest muscles. And I was injured and limping slightly on my bruised leg. It was a relief to have a shower and relax. Back in my bedroom, I took the luxury to look over my graceful legs. Then I let my bathrobe slip to the carpet so I could admire the nude, supple figure in the mirror. I was surprised that this body was so soft and limber and not more toned. Maybe all that flying meant Anna didn't get much of a workout. My boobs were full, with a good weight, but not too large. My waist was slim and was complimented by the subtle recurve of my hips. If Anna was in her forties her body didn't look much older than twenty-five. When I turned I could see a mole near the small of my back and a tight, shapely behind. I felt so... there was no other word: Sexy. Putting the skintights and Medallion safely away, I opened the bag of new clothes and began to pick out underwear. Panties were simple but I found it awkward to pack my chest into the brassiere and its straps cut my shoulders. Some quick adjustments improved the fit but my breathing felt confined. I put a crisp blouse on over the top and pulled on a pair of jeans, socks and sneakers. Everything felt tight and new and unfamiliar and I kept pulling obsessively at my clothes, trying to get comfortable. In the mirror I looked presentable, except for my hair, which was a mess and kept getting in the way of my face. I wasn't used to hair touching my face. I brushed it out and tried to pull it back, only to realize I didn't know what to tie it back with. I resigned myself to letting it get in the way and found I kept blowing loose strands from my mouth every few minutes. It was dusk outside and I had little energy left, so I pulled a TV dinner from the refrigerator, heated it and ate in front of the tube. I could only eat a small portion. My appetite wasn't what it was. Exhausted and aching I eventually crawled into bed. I can't recall the dreams that night, but I know I had them. Some left vague impressions of violence and others of affection. I only remember one faint afterimage in which I was making love to a raven-haired man, but nothing else. Next morning I woke and felt much better. The aches had largely gone, though I still had stabbing pains when I touched the bruising. I lay in bed playing with my body for a while, thinking that something was indefinably different. Masturbation felt good but not as thrilling and novel as yesterday. I rose to take a shower and it wasn't until I got out, head wrapped in a turban, and had dressed in my jeans and a loose-sleeved blouse, that I realized what had happened: I felt completely at home in my new skin. Somehow I had assimilated experience I didn't have before--girl knowledge. Suddenly I knew how to manage my hair, about the minutiae of morning ablutions, how to dress. The clothes, and the movements of my body were no longer a distraction. My walking and breathing and heart rate, so wrong yesterday, seemed as natural as if I'd been like this all my life. Back in the bedroom I tried to figure out what was happening. I could feel conflicting perspectives in my mind. Part of me was still Joe, a tourist in a girl's body and loving it. The other part was a montage of vague instincts, memories and responses that must have been Anna's. I could feel them, familiar and unfamiliar, like deja vu. These phantom thoughts were telling me how dumb I was to buy so few sets of underwear, and that I needed more to last the week. They knew I needed some makeup and I wasn't dressed without it. I was freaking. Was this some Anna-self, asserting control of me? Was I turning into her? Could I trust the magic not to let these figments, these echoes of Anna, overwhelm me? I reached for the Medallion. It was still there in its baggie but it seemed more sinister now. There was a feeling of deep disappointment, too. I had fantasized about this change, about enjoying the freshness of sensation and experience in this body. But something was adapting me to it. I felt cheated and betrayed. But then a notion floated into my mind. A revelation. I had just recalled from my Anna-life how my powers worked. I wouldn't have known how without the helping hand. Maybe it was time to give the powers a tryout. The cabin sat in a two-acre space ringed with high trees, which were rustling lightly. It was a bright early summer morning with just a few clouds overhead. I walked outside with my sleeves rolled up to take a breath and listen to the birds. I'd been assured I'd have total privacy here. The nearest lake was a mile and a half down the track. In this secluded spot I could practice my science powers without calling attention. I thought I'd better have some clearance and so walked into a wide area of overgrown grass, where the lavender was blooming and early bees were starting to amble. My stomach was knotted and excited. I wanted to try flying first of all and closed my eyes to center myself. To switch on my powers all I had to do was to push with my mind like SO, and... There was a sudden explosion like a muffled pop and birds flew up out of the trees. Startled, ears ringing, I looked around stupidly, until I realized I'd blown half my clothes off. I stumped back to the cabin, cursing, the remains of my blouse and jeans flapping around me. How dumb! How stupid of me! How could I forget? An Anna's memory welled up and all became plain. There's a good reason why I wear skintights. I generate a forcefield every time I use my powers and it extends no more than half an inch or so from my skin. Anything crossing the boundary layer of the field when it forms would be ripped apart in an instant. That was the explosion when my baggy blouse and jean bottoms shredded themselves. Short of flying nekkid, I'd have to don the skintights. I unpacked them again. All I had to do was sew up the torn leather flap and I was good. A little close stitching later and I started donning the snug lycra gym wear Hiromi had given me, carefully easing my breasts into the strapless support. Then I slipped on the snug leather onesie, working my curves into it. Once I was zipped up it hugged me like a second skin. The boot heels were a bit high but my Anna-self compensated. They made my hips dance as I walked. I felt comfortable in the bright burnished red leather. I felt at home. Back outside, I stepped into the grass. This time, when I pushed with my mind, I felt the forcefield crackle on. There was energy flowing through my body, a powerful force I could direct and control. I knew that Freefall's powers--MY powers--derived from the manipulation of gravity. By tipping gravity I could rise off the ground. The sensation of pushing off against the Earth's pull felt natural and familiar and in seconds I was up at tree height. It was a joyous feeling. My body felt weightless and here, in the air, I could push myself in any direction I wished. I felt free and unencumbered. I was flying, soaring higher. I had to stop myself going too high in case I was seen, so I dived and did a gentle glide around the clearing near treetop height, enjoying the sensation, my forcefield fending off bugs. It was like one of those dreams where the sensation of flight seems perfect and real. I decided to wait until night-time before flying higher to test my speed, so I landed and started to practice my gravity blast. This was easy. I simply pointed my hand at a tree branch and released some of my inner power. The air distorted slightly and there was a low 'whump' as a column of air was crushed by the gravity lancing out from my arm. The branch shattered where the column hit. I knew this was a minor shot and I could make more powerful attacks: ones that could drill holes through concrete. I also knew I could fine-control the gravity to accelerate a target to 10 gee and back in an instant. The sudden acceleration would cause an ordinary person to black out. I practiced shooting off twigs for a while, hearing them crack and snap with each hit. It was as if I'd being doing it forever. Satisfied, I strutted on my high heels back to the cabin. I had one more thing to do. Much as I loved my new body, there was no way I wanted to keep Anna's face. Now don't get me wrong, Anna was a beautiful woman. But she also had a famous face, known everywhere. I didn't want to draw attention to myself. In a couple of the Zulo legends people had been able to change small parts of themselves. I didn't know how true these stories were, but I thought I'd try it. Back at the hospital I'd had a crush on this bright young surgical intern called Suze. She was a petite girl, maybe not far off Anna's height, and also a redhead, with darker, wavier hair. While not quite a knockout like Anna, she was hellishly cute, with wide-spaced, startling eyes and a generous mouth. Before I quit the job I managed to lift one of Suze's used surgical masks just after she'd dropped it in the trash. I thought this might be just what I needed to 'borrow' her face. I stripped again and pulled out the Medallion and the surgical mask. I thought that if I touched the mask to the medal for as long as it took to alter my features I'd keep the science heroine body, but gain Suze's face. Only one way to try. I stood in front of the mirror with the medal on my palm and touched the mask to it. I felt the electric shock again, then my face began to prickle and I waited while skin and muscle subtly changed and moved. The minutes dragged by and the pins and needles crawled like ants across my face. Its oval shape widened but became fractionally more pointed at the chin. My eyes blurred and then refocused as they changed; they were now widely spaced and had become a light steel grey. My eyebrows lost a little of their arch to become straighter. My mouth stretched and widened and my hair grew redder and seemed develop a wave. Then I felt the prickle start to wander down to my neck, so I dropped the medallion like a hot potato. The changes immediately stopped. The reflection showed Anna's body topped by Suze's cute face. The combination seemed so strange at first that I wasn't sure whether the two matched. Was there a difference in skin tone at the neck where they 'joined'? Hard to say. The unsightly bruise on the cheek had gone to be replaced by a small mole near the back of my jaw. The effect was less of a glamour model and more girl-next-door, but I was very pretty. I tried a smile and pulled some faces. My new face worked. No one would recognize me as Freefall. * * * I dressed up in a fresh blouse and jeans and decided to go shopping. It was forty-five minute's drive into town and there were some big stores there on the strip. Residual memories haunted me, telling me I needed more clothes, makeup and hair product. I had to adjust the car seat to my new frame. I drove super-careful as I was now without a license or an official identity. If anyone asked, I was no longer Joseph, but Jo Doyle. Hopefully Chrissie would help me with the ID later. It was a big shopping trip and I paid cash. My cards still said "Mister" Doyle so I daren't charge for goods. Fortunately the ATMs didn't distinguish sex. I went crazy for an afternoon, letting the Anna part of me (or was it the Suze part?) drive my body and make the decisions. I shopped, ate, loaded the car with bags, and drove the route back up to the forest and the cabin. Night eventually fell and I donned the skintights again. I was going flying. Outside in the evening breeze I felt my forcefield flick on, cocooning me. I had plenty of energy flowing through my diminutive body: a 'full battery'. I kicked up into the clear sky and taking my bearings from the cabin's porch light and the lake in the valley I began to soar, carving the atmosphere. No one would see me up here and I could fly to my heart's content. I first circled the cabin area and then decided to try and push my body, to test my speed. I began to accelerate toward the mountains, trying to keep high so as not to hit anything. I got faster and faster, really pushing my energy reserves. It was exhilarating. I felt no wind, as I was insulated by my forcefield; only air for breathing permeated through. A high-pitched whistle began to build as the wind slipped past. I was going fast, but not fast enough, so I pushed again and really began to burn the energy in my body. I went faster and faster but my Anna-memory was telling me I was getting nowhere near my top speed. Why? Alarm bells began to ring in my mind. I'd flown maybe thirty miles and was almost down to my energy reserve, so I slowed down and began to curve back, coasting, trying to keep enough gravity power to fly. At this altitude I could navigate by the light of the sun just below the horizon and I almost glided to Adams Lake where I took the left turn back to my cabin. When I landed I had little of the science energy left in my body. I was exhausted and troubled. It was a warm night and with the screened windows wide open I stripped and changed into a simple cotton nightgown, which felt cool and comfortable. Over a small glass of single malt, I pondered. Anna's recollections told me that I should be able to get close to the sound barrier at top speed. But tonight I maybe made no more than, what, 450 or 500 knots? Maybe eighty percent of my maximum velocity. I seemed to be burning through my 'battery' of energy slightly faster than Anna remembered. Was this something to do with the Queen Crimson injuries? Had I not recovered yet from Freefall's fight? Then it hit me: Suze's face. The small physical change had somehow tweaked my DNA and compromised my science powers. Not much, but enough. I went out on the porch and as the breeze lapped my nightdress I looked up at the bright band of the milky way. I had some choices. Changing back to Anna's face and body would probably restore my full powers. Keeping Suze's face would mean my powers were diminished forever. I decided to sleep on it, but already guessed the likely answer. I'd keep my new face and forgo the power. I was still an extremely powerful science heroine. However, I'd make no more changes. I'd keep the Medallion for Chrissie to use. That night I had more dreams. In one I opened up a patient with a scalpel and looked at the glory and wonder of the human body within. * * * Tuesday was bright and still and I decided to go down to the lake to swim. I put on a one-piece backless swimsuit in blue lycra, which felt sheer and hugged my skin in a way I liked. Throwing on a shirt, shorts and sandals, I carried my towel and some sunscreen down the long track to the lakeside. It was a hot morning and on the walk I gathered my thoughts. I decided I would keep my current shape as Anna/Suze and live with the loss of power. I didn't want to make any further transformations because my powers would weaken further. Also, there were these presences in my mind from the transformations, phantom remnants of Anna and Suze. They did not control me, but I was aware of stray emotions and fragments of thoughts slipping into my consciousness. I hoped they wouldn't grow any stronger. It was early and the lake was almost deserted except for some kids splashing about at the launching stage on the far side. There were a couple of boats about, roaring up and down at a distance. Most of the cabins at this lake were on the far shore. I went to a small wooden public pier, stripped to my swimsuit and piled my clothes. Then I carefully eased myself into the water. After the heat the water was cool, but felt good and I swam out fifty yards and back again. By the time I got back a boy had appeared on the pier. I didn't notice him arrive. He was tall and rangy, maybe 18 or 19 years old--definitely college age--with a goofball grin and freckled, boyish features that hadn't completely filled out into manhood. His head had a tousled mop of short blonde curls and he stood with the easy grace of an athlete, completely sure of himself. He was in yellow shorts, an unbuttoned cotton shirt and a pair of beach slides. One big hand gripped a towel and an iPod. He was standing, staring at me. I hauled myself out of the water and became shyly aware that I was staring back, unable to help myself. There was something electric and out of control happening in the space between us. I was looking into his eyes and his pupils were wide. I realized that my dripping swimsuit was clinging sinuously to my curves and his eyes were flicking thirstily from my face to my figure and back again. I felt an excitement build, like I suddenly needed a man. Where was this manic desire coming from? Was it some deep craving of my new body? It began to overwhelm me. I was no longer thinking rationally. The awkward silence was at a tipping point; it was either 'go' or 'no-go'. I had to make it happen. I gestured limply at the water. "Would you like to join me?" Oh Jesus, what kind of lame line was that? Without taking my eyes off him I began to lower myself back into the lake. I felt like a mermaid, siren- calling a sailor to his doom. The boy's grin widened, making it more lopsided, then he put down his towel and music and shucked off his shirt. Stepping out of his slides he took three loping paces and launched himself off the end of the pier, arms stretched, in a long, shallow arc. He plopped into the water with almost no splash and emerged, turning to see me by the pier. Then he began to pump his arms strongly in a well- practiced stroke, stopping just feet away, water cascading off his hair and freckled skin. "You're in the swim team, aren't you?" I smiled. "I'm Jo," I added, feeling the moment start to slip. Already this was too much talk and I was starting to feel SO horny. The madness was overtaking me. "Yeah, you guessed right. I'm Gary, by the way" he said in a light, friendly voice. "Then kiss me, Gary." It was a dumb thing to say but the moment seemed right. Whatever electricity I was feeling Gary was too, and he didn't hesitate. With one arm holding onto the pier, he embraced me in the other and our mouths met. In a moment our tongues were touching, darting, feeling each other. His free hand began to explore the lines of my back and probed downwards. He came to the bottom of my swimsuit and cheekily slid his hand inside to feel the roundness of my butt. At this our kissing became more frenzied. His mouth tasted of coffee and candy. Gary's hand came out from behind and started to stroke my belly through the swimsuit's fabric, hesitantly wandering its way upward. Then he decided to commit and in one motion his hand swished to my chest, first grazing the side of a breast and then cupping it. The nipple was taut beneath and his thumb gently tried to work it through the lycra. I felt the pleasure and heat grow behind the teat. I couldn't stand it any longer; this fabric barrier was torture. I needed his hand in contact with my skin and I suddenly broke free of his kiss to look into his eyes. "My swimsuit," I said, levelly, "take it off." In a blink his free hand had worked one shoulder strap off, while I let go the pier long enough to help him pull down the other. My breasts were now free and weightless in the cool water, with the one-piece's top floating loose at my waist. Gary's hand came back to caress a nipple, which was now so hard it almost hurt. We were kissing again and this time my free hand was searching across his abs, and then sliding down inside the waistband of his loose swimming shorts. I reached down to briefly touch the slick hardness of his penis, and then stretched down further to gently cup his balls. He kissed me real hard at that moment, his tongue pressuring mine. He clearly felt I'd upped the ante because his hand came loose from my boob, diving down deep into my swimsuit bottom to search between my legs. He fumbled roughly--a little inexperienced maybe?--and then his fingers brushed near my clitoris and I felt arousal. Like a lightning bolt, it careened up my body in a tiny convulsion. Suddenly there was the sound of chirruping children approaching the pier. The madness evaporated and I realized we were about to get caught. I pulled my hand from Gary's shorts and separated. The spell was broken and in a flat panic I was hitching up my swimsuit to cover my chest. Four brash children in assorted sizes clumped onto the pier, making noise. Behind them were a couple who could have been parents. I hoped they hadn't seen us making out. I shot Gary a shy, nervous smile and started to haul myself back out of the water. He joined me, as I wrapped myself in my towel and started to walk back up toward the grassy bank of the lake, where I sat down beneath the board that held the life belt. "Sorry about that," I said, shooting a shy, apologetic glance at Gary, who had eased his long, toned body onto the grass beside me. The kids were now in the water, splashing and screaming, while their dad told them not to stray too far from the pier. "That's okay. It was fine." I got both barrels of his lopsided smile. "Just what happened there?" His voice was relaxed and warm. He seemed sensitive and smart and concerned for me, which was nice. "Don't know. It got a little crazy for a moment. I, uh, don't normally do that. I needed... someone." I was trying to search my feelings honestly, asking what DID happen there? Was it a part of Anna or Suze's presence? Was it some other biological imperative? I gave Gary a wan smile. "Just been a bit lonely recently. I'm up here on my own." "Where?" "The green cabin about a mile and something up the hill. Big clearing." "I don't know that one but you follow the path up, right?" "Right," I said, looking the boy up and down. "You planning to stalk me?" "Stalk you? Says the crazy lady who forced herself on me!" We both laughed. We talked a while. Gary Clayton is one of those people you can only label as a 'good kid'. Bright, considerate, well brought up, studying math hard in some backwoods college, wants to join the Air Force. Like I said, a good kid. He was staying with his parents, gramps and sister at a cabin nearby and I got three invitations in as many minutes to go visit the Claytons for dinner. He was putting good-natured pressure on me. I declined. Maybe tomorrow. I didn't feel up to large numbers of people yet. "Then can I come up and see you?" Gary's face was open and friendly. "Sure, why not?" "This afternoon?" He was trying not to seem too eager, and failing. I hesitated. There was unfinished business here. I REALLY wanted a man very bad. "Yeah, sure. Come up about two. I'll fix up some late lunch if you want." * * * Though my specialty was rescue and paramedical, I'd come out of the Coastguard with good cooking skills. Sailors know a thing or two about chow. So I grilled some chicken and was mixing up my patent salad dressing in the kitchen when I saw Gary lope up the path. I gave him a wave from the window. I was dressed in shorts and a yellow smock top and I'd tied my wavy red hair back. When it came to appearance I just gave in to the girl instincts I'd inherited with the body. There was a bench table outside the cabin and I shouted through the window screens for him to go sit there. He gave a lazy thumbs up in reply. I took the salad bowl and some plates out and we exchanged "Hi's" as I ambled up to him. "I brought the brews," he waved at a pack of beers on the table. "You old enough for that?" I flashed a smile as I set out the plates. I was starting to get the hang of this flirting thing. "Sure, they even carded me. How old do you think I am?" Gary leaned on the table, easy and relaxed, looking me up and down. "Man, you look good. No, I mean great, really great!" he corrected. "Suuuure. You've been drinking already. Shaddup an' eat," I grinned . "No, I mean it Jo. You're a crazy child-snatcher, but you're a knockout." Gary's lopsided smile grew and I felt a little of that electricity I'd felt down by the lake. "Anyway," Gary continued, "You're in big trouble." "What trouble's that, flyboy?" "Uh, WANNABE flyboy," Gary raised a finger. "I don't get my wings until I collect enough cereal box tops.... Hey, nice chicken salad." "You're welcome." "No," Gary went on, "what I mean is you are in hellish BIG doo doo." "How come?" "Well, I might have told Gramps I'd met you who told Mom and now... look, it's all got outta control." "What have you done?" I was enjoying this. "I've created a monster. It's like, they found out I met a girl by the lake and... I'm telling them it's just this person I met and there's nothing happening and..." "Nothing?" I arched an eyebrow. "I mean like nothing I'm going to tell them because it's none of their damn business. But you know what parents are like and Sister's putting two and two together and Mom is, like, she SO wants to see you. They only ever saw me bring one girl back before and that was a prom date. Sister thinks I'm gay." "What, they want to see me to make sure I'm not corrupting the morals of a minor? To check my teeth like some show dog?" Gary spread his hands, that goofball look all over his face. "Look, you have, like, NO choice in this. Resistance is futile. Mom says you are coming to lunch tomorrow with the family. And if you don't they're coming up here with guns and nets to get you. They will too. They'll get savage if you try to fight them. Anyway, Dad reckons you're probably going crazy up here on your own. He thinks you need some company." Gary paused, eyes anxious. "I agree with him." I didn't give an answer, which he seemed to take as an affirmative. We ate, cracked a couple of beers, and talked. I had to be careful, realizing I was weaving a past out of whole cloth. I was nondescript about my background, though some details like Mom and Dad's deaths were true enough. I told him I was thinking of going into nursing and talked about all the certificates I'd have to pass. That much was true, too. It never occurred to me I could make money out of my new science powers. I assumed that after I got some new ID I'd need a job. I'd probably have to learn nursing over again and work up to becoming registered and a paramedical. This shows how half-assed my plan to become a science heroine was. I had all this power and all I could think of was going back to the hospital. This was the longest I'd talked in my new body and that was strange in itself. I had Suze's voice but I didn't have her perky cadences and rhythms. My speech came out more like my old guy self and was flatter, more direct. Not that Gary seemed to mind; he was being very attentive. We cleared up the table and went indoors where it was cooler. We both flopped on the big couch, trying to act relaxed. But the feeling between us was starting to crackle and my stomach felt knotted and excited. After a long silence Gary's right hand hesitantly reached over to touch mine and I held it, feeling his soft fingers. The touch seemed to incite the heat in my pussy and breasts, doing crazy things to my emotions. I looked into his open face and though I wanted him badly I felt I needed to set some ground rules. "Gary?" I hesitated. "Mmm?" "When I'm on holiday like this I sometimes feel... intense." "Mmm?" His eyes betrayed no sign he understood where I was going. "You must have heard of holiday romances. Flaring briefly and then people going their separate ways?" Gary just looked and gripped my hand a little harder. "Gary, I like you but I don't want any... consequences, okay?" Silence. "I'm leaving Sunday morning. Anything that happens goes no further than this week." Blank. "Whatever you do, Gary, don't fall in love with me." We looked into each other's eyes for a long time. Then he began to lean over and I angled my head to receive his kiss. And again we were touching tongues and kissing hard. Before Gary could reach around to hold me I broke contact. "Wait," I said as I got up and headed to the bedroom. "I'm going to change into something comfortable." In the bedroom I pulled off my smock and shorts and slipped on the cotton nightdress. It was so low cut it was a wonder I didn't fall out of it. Then in nightdress and panties I swayed out to the lounge where Gary was waiting. I sat down beside him and smiled. "So, where were we?" I said, with every intention of picking up where we left. Gary raised a finger. "Jo, I just want to be sure. This is for fun, right?" "Yes. For fun and for company, because I really, really need it right now. I don't want to hurt you. It mustn't get serious." Gary thought about that, then leaned over and tenderly kissed me again. We held that kiss for a long time, tongues tippy-touching. Then Gary reached over to hold me, and his hand stroked my side through the light cotton. At one point he touched a bruise and I made a sharp intake of breath. He apologized and asked about that bruise and the other he'd seen on my leg. I fobbed him off with excuses and started the kissing again. Gary's hand was now rubbing my belly again through my dress and as a tense pleasure grew in my body I knew exactly where the hand would start questing. One moment he was examining the slimness of my waist, the next his hand slipped through the top of my dress and cupped a breast. I started breathing hard, getting more excited. Gary was also getting excited, but he was an inexperienced boy, still not grown out of hapless fumblings, and I had to tell him to calm down his rough grabbing and be more gentle with my bosom. He did as he was told, and with a few second's coaching he was teasing a nipple, making it harden, and drawing involuntary small gasps from me. He was a quick learner. This heavy petting went on for a while, his free hand shifting from one breast to the other and back again, softly fondling and exploring. This was nice. I wanted him to seduce me. But I had other needs. I needed him to make me a woman. I had to move things along. I broke free again and pulled Gary from the couch. We slowly made our way into the bedroom, like shy lovers. I lay down on the bed and looked at him. Gary shed his shirt and slides and now only wore his shorts. I sat up and pulled off my nightdress and lay back on the sheets, clad only in my panties, arms back, inviting, breasts pooling on my chest. Gary climbed onto the