Uncharmed Circle free porn video

Uncharmed Circle By Bill Hart I stood and stared at the image being reflected back at me from the silvered surface. Everything certainly seemed all right. It was, of course, me that I saw reflected there. That made perfect sense. Who else could it possibly be but me standing before the mirror? Mirrors simply didn't lie. Reflections couldn't possibly be anything or anyone other than what or whom they appeared to be. Whenever I stood in front of some mirror, then whatever I saw looking back at me simply had to be me. Didn't it? If that were true - it seemed as if should be - then I was a young attractive woman. I had thick shoulder-length blonde hair. My eyes were a vibrant sparkling blue color. I had this figure to die for, even though I thought my boobs were a little bit bigger than was absolutely necessary. As one might reasonably expect, men were constantly lusting after me. There certainly wasn't anything wrong with that. I enjoyed every second of being lusted after too. As far as I was concerned, I simply deserved all that attention I got. It wasn't even that long since the last man visiting my bed had demonstrated his admirable skills. My name was Holly. I was one hot sexy babe, as well as an absolute total fox. I knew that for a fact. There was no way I could have ever hidden those details from anyone, especially some man. I would have never wanted to hide that detail from anyone... most of the time, that is. I enjoyed - always had, always would - being just who I was. However, who I was sometimes - more and more often of late - posed me a small problem or two. I knew exactly who I was. Why wouldn't I? That hot, sexy young woman reflected in the mirror simply validated what I knew all along to be true. Even though I knew what had to be the truth, I still had a number of odd doubts that just seemed so totally unreasonable. Despite all the overwhelming evidence to the contrary and what I knew had to be the truth, I had developed the strangest feeling over the past few weeks that I was actually someone else instead of me. It was all so weird. Somehow - I have no idea how or why - I was actually thinking I was some man that had been trapped within the flesh of my totally hot, sexy female body. I knew the whole idea of me being some male could be nothing but plain silliness. How could it be anything else? The whole stupid idea simply made no rational sense at all. However, even knowing that it couldn't possibly be true wouldn't make any of those strange thoughts go away. That strange feeling of wrongness was always strongest in the morning after I'd lain with my latest man. I didn't know why being with a man that way I enjoyed so much always made me think I was actually one of them. But somehow, it did. There seemed to be nothing I could do about it. It was getting to be a real pain the ass. Why the hell did I keep thinking I was really a man? Unfortunately, thinking I was a man wasn't even the worst of my problems at the moment. Whatever had made me start thinking I might be a man must have also made me believe the other five girls I lived with were also somehow men. That was one damn peculiar notion. It made as little sense to me as my thinking I was a man. Just as it was with me, anyone looking at any of them would know instantly they were girls. I definitely didn't know any guys that looked anything like them. How could anyone ever doubt what was so perfectly obvious? And yet, silly or not, I still continued doubting that plain and simple undeniable fact. I had no idea why I thought the things I did; I just did. None of it made a whole lot of sense at all. However, if I were truly this man as I thought I must be, then it seemed fairly obvious that the other girls must have also been men at one time too. Anything that could have taken one man and turned him into a woman could have just as easily transformed six men in exactly the same way. I had a problem with the whole idea. There was also something about six men being changed into women that somehow didn't ring quite true. I don't know why - or even how I knew what I thought I knew - but I was convinced that there had been seven, not six, of us once. But if that were the truth, then where was that allegedly missing seventh girl now? In all the time we'd been here, none of the others had ever spoken of a missing girl. For as long as I could remember, there had only been the six of us dutifully tending to all the needs of these men who came calling on us daily. After I'd first started having that damn peculiar feeling, I'd tried talking to the other girls about it. As long as we were talking one-on-one, they'd listen to me. Even so, I could tell they didn't believe me. That was no big surprise; I wasn't even that sure I believed me. I was totally convinced they were only humoring me. At least none of them had ever come right out and called me a crazy bitch. The only real problem I had talking about it with the other girls was keeping on the topic. One-on-one was never much of a problem, since I tended to do most of the talking. Whenever one of the other girls joined our conversation, the topic soon began drifting elsewhere. Not that I ever minded the change of subject, most of the time it quickly refocused on boys. Once the third girl joined in - Barbi with her one-track mind was the best at it - the only topic I soon wanted to discuss with them was boys. I just couldn't help it. I loved talking about boys. After all, I was a normal healthy girl. I still liked boys, even though I inexplicably thought I was male. I'm sure some damn shrink would have thought me confused. Once we started talking about boys, we simply didn't want to talk about anything else. Nothing else mattered. But then, I'd never minded talking about boys. It was just that talking and thinking about boys always made me start feeling all hot and horny. Once I started feeling all hot and bothered, there was only that one special way I'd found that would bring me relief. But that was all right. Of course, lying with men and doing it for hours and hours never bothered me either. I always enjoyed myself thoroughly in the company of men. I mean doing it was always better than merely talking about doing it. And guys always enjoyed being with me. If I were actually some stupid man as I'd begun thinking I was, then wouldn't I have found getting screwed all the time by other men a little more disturbing, not to mention a whole lot less enjoyable, than I did. And yet, as it had been for the past several weeks, whenever I woke up alone in my bed after that handsome lucky man I'd been with had left, that damn strange feeling I was somehow a man always returned. I sure wished I knew why I kept thinking something so obviously wrong. All of a sudden, I began wondering what would happen if I remained in my room for the entire night. If I failed to interact with the other girls, then maybe I'd start remembering something else that provided a better explanation for why I kept having these odd thoughts that I was somehow a man. I'd probably miss getting so hot and horny, but then it was getting hot and horny that always seemed to push me back to square one again. Rather than leave my room and join the other girls outside, I decided to go back to bed instead. I'd ignore everything else around me. As I quietly lay there, I slowly closed my eyes. Perhaps it would help; perhaps it wouldn't. I only hoped that denying my primal carnal instincts this one night would in some way help me remember something that I must have somehow forgotten. I was a little surprised that none of the girls came to find out if anything was wrong with me. That wasn't like them at all, especially Janna, who was always worried about something all the time. All six of us had been such close friends ever since we were little girls. Suddenly, strange thoughts and memories began flooding into my mind. Somehow, I now knew exactly what had happened. How could I have ever forgotten any of it? In addition to everything else I'd been wondering about, I now knew for a fact that I was actually a man just as I'd thought I was. In fact, I'd been born male. I'd never been a little girl. How could I have possibly forgotten something like that? Unexpectedly, everything was suddenly as clear as a crystal bell. My name wasn't even Holly; it was actually Harry. There had been seven of us, all men, each standing at one of the points of that septagram drawn on the floor. This had been our group's first attempt at performing the ancient ritual using the septagram. We'd had to add a seventh man to our circle once we'd finally decided we were ready to move on past the sexagram. Quite Truthfully, I'd always found something about the sexagram far more exciting and intriguing than its hexagram equivalent. There was another man standing at the center of the figure, but he clearly wasn't one of us and therefore didn't count. Besides, as all those others had experienced before him, he would soon undergo a radical improvement in his dull little life. Very soon now, he'd more than willingly begin pleasuring us all in more ways than he would have ever imagined possible. The new man was ready; we'd carefully instructed him on what must be done. Errors could never be tolerated. As we had done on scores of previous times, we began chanting. Just as had always occurred every time before, the power within the circle began building. I could feel it growing inside me. I was thoroughly convinced that the others felt how the power constantly grew stronger within us. It was, just as it had always been, a most wonderful intoxicating feeling. As the force we were gathering finally reached its peak, a subtle change in the cadence of the chant of our ritual hurtled that force away from the seven of us manning the points of the septagram inward toward that solitary man standing at its center focus. He'd objected to being placed there at first, but that was long before our ritual had begun. His objections quickly faded. It had never taken very much power to make anyone totally compliant to our will. Once the ancient rite was concluded, he'd have many other things on his mind far more important than voicing, or even thinking, any new thoughts of objection. But then abruptly, something had inexplicably gone wrong. Even though any kind error was clearly impossible, something had very definitely gone inexplicably wrong. For some unknown reason, the results of the latest ritual were not proceeding in the same manner they always had before. This shouldn't be happening. Instead of he at the center of the septagram being transformed, as he should have been, that man actually seemed to be soaking up all the power directed at him as if he were some kind of thirsty sponge. Clearly, something had to be done to stop him. And it needed to be quickly. However, when I tried stepping off my assigned point of the septagram, it was as if my feet had become glued to the floor. My feet were incapable of any movement. A quick look around told me the same story. All six of my compatriots were all in the same fix. It would have only taken one of us to break the circle, but one of us was still one more than could shuffle his feet. With the circle remaining intact, that man, if in fact he was really a man, kept drawing more and more of our gathered power away from us and into himself. Abruptly, the power flow reversed itself. Like wicked bolts of angry lightning, raw mystic power suddenly erupted from the man. As we were all unable to move, the lightning swiftly engulfed all seven of us standing defenseless upon the points of the septagram. When I opened my eyes a moment or so later, I was sprawled out on the floor. I was somewhat surprised, not to mention greatly pleased, at finding myself still numbered among the living. Although I didn't remember passing out, neither did I remember falling to the floor. At the same time, not much time could have possibly passed. I still saw the searing afterimage from that bolt of awesome arcane energy that had unsuccessfully tried swallowing me. I moaned; I ached all over. Somehow, my voice didn't sound quite right. However, that simply hadn't sounded like a cause for any immediate concern. I also felt somewhat strange. Not that it surprised me - a bolt of arcane lightning had apparently struck me - my body tingled all over. When I finally sat up, I immediately realized what was wrong with me. It didn't seem possible, but then it was just as equally impossible to ignore any of those blatantly obvious facts. I grabbed a handful of my hair that had been nowhere near as long as it had somehow now become. My suddenly shoulder-length locks had also turned a very mellow shade of golden blonde. In addition to that new mass of blonde hair atop my head, I had also gained a pair of tits on my chest. If having boobs wasn't enough of a jolt to my system, those twin mounds that now hung on my chest seemed so incredibly large. I was also as naked as the day I'd been born. That really wasn't much of a surprise. Apparently I had been harmed, but the lightning must have easily seared away my clothing. Even through the twin obstacles my new tits presented, I could easily see that my prized manhood was now a thing of the past. When I looked around at the others, I wasn't overly surprised seeing what I saw. Just as it had apparently happened to me, the other six men were now naked young women sitting on the floor. There were four other blondes, a brunette, and a redhead sitting at the points of the septagram. The girls were clearly dazed and confused, not that I could blame them for that. Although I was no longer entirely sure who had been whom, I wasn't too sure it actually mattered. Whether we liked it or not, we were girls. All six of them were also as equally over-endowed as I had become. At the center of the septagram still stood that man who had somehow absorbed all of our energies before redirecting them back on us. He was unchanged, even though he should have been the one transformed by the invocation of the ancient ritual. It was he, who should be the busty young woman now, not any of us. Even as that man kept smiling at us, I was convinced he knew far more about what had just happened than we did. I poked cautiously at my new boobs. Not only were the new mounds huge, they were also awfully damn sensitive. Every little touch made them go all tingly. Were the boobs of the others just as sensitive as mine? What could have possibly gone wrong this time? We had performed this same ritual more times than I could count. There had never been any kind of problems before. Why now? Even as we'd upgraded from the triangle to the square to the pentagram and finally to the sexagram, each new performance of the ritual had been flawless. What could have caused such a different behavior when we upgraded to the septagram? Or was it, in fact, simply our use of the septagram that was truly at fault? Our newest visitor - victim was such a harsh word - who had somehow impossibly retained his manhood, while we'd all just as impossibly lost ours and become female, was somehow the key to all of this crap. His objections had been mere lies to throw us off track. Obviously, he had known all along what to expect from us. There was no doubt in my mind that he knew exactly what he'd been doing. Somehow, that man had redirected the transforming effects of our ritual chant back onto all of us. It made me start thinking that our latest victim might have come here far more willingly than any of us had first been led to believe. It seemed so unlikely. We'd never gone to the same place to find our next subject. We'd always been careful that neither rhyme nor reason existed to connect any of them together. Suddenly, I had this idea that the man had been actively seeking us out. He'd come here fully intending on victimizing us all along. It made perfect sense. Even though none of us could yet move away from the point on which we stood, we all managed to stand when the man told us to rise. At the time within the septagram, that strange man continued moving freely about. Walking slowly from point to point, he looked us all over as if he were appraising his handiwork. When he stopped in front of me, I didn't like that evil gleam I saw in his eyes. I was relieved when he finally moved on to leer lecherously at the next poor soul. Once he'd seen every one of us up close and personal, he turned his full attention to the one of the other new blondes. Although I wasn't sure, I was fairly certain she must have been the newest member of our small mystical circle. Even though I could have easily been wrong, I thought her name might have been Dennis. I had no idea why I was having this odd trouble remembering her name. Of course, the simple fact that she looked nothing like any Dennis I'd ever known in my life might have contributed to my problems in recalling her name. As the man began speaking to her, I wondered why I felt compelled to use only female pronouns as I thought about her. Despite her outward appearance, she was still no more female than the rest of us were. It didn't help that the man kept his voice so soft and low as he spoke to her. I couldn't keep from wondering what he was saying to her. At the very same time, I was definitely glad he wasn't saying any of those things to me. When that man finally stepped back from her, Dennis looked a little strange. For lack of a better description, she seemed bewildered and dazed. She was clearly lost and puzzled. However, I was totally convinced that her apparent current state of confusion had absolutely nothing to do with her having become a busty blue-eyed blonde. As the strange man had been speaking to her, he man must have done something to her mind. The man began smiling as he asked her her name. I was stunned when she answered "Darah" without any hesitation. A quick glance at the others told me the five former men were as stunned as I was by her unexpected declaration. Her former look of confusion had totally vanished, replaced by an unmistakable look of budding desire. As startled as I'd been to hear her name herself "Darah", I was even more astounded watching her hungrily kiss that peculiar man as if there might be no tomorrow. What the hell was wrong with that girl? How could Darah possibly enjoy kissing any man? What the hell had that damn man done to her head to make her act like such a slut? Why could I no longer think of her as anyone other than Darah? When the man slid his arm about her slender waist, Darah didn't complain. She actually encouraged his actions. Very clearly, Darah enjoyed all this new attention she was getting from the strange man. I could also see in her eyes that several additional thoughts that no man had any real business thinking were beginning to form in her mind. But then, like the rest of us, she was no longer physically the male she'd once been. There was little doubt that all of us questioned her current mental state. Would we soon join her? As they walked toward the door together, Darah moved exactly like the sexy young woman she appeared to be. Given what I'd already seen, I wasn't overly surprised with her fluidity of motion or her apparent grace. She acted exactly like any other woman now. It seemed highly that she thought herself one now as well. As I continued thinking about this total change in Darah, I couldn't keep from wondering and worrying if this was the fate the rest of us had to look forward to. Several minutes after the man and Darah had left the room, no one had yet entered as his replacement. Perhaps his transformation of Darah into his sensual female plaything had fully satisfied him. It sounded too good to be true; I wasn't convinced I believed that. If he'd already achieved everything he'd wanted from us through Darah's transformation, then why were the rest of us still standing at the points of the septagram in the forms of busty young women? When I tried to move off the point of the septagram again and failed, I knew for a fact that strange man wasn't finished with us yet. The other five new women quickly realized the same thing, as each of them tried and each of them failed to escape from their own points on the septagram. Damnit all anyway! What the hell did that damn man want from us? Even though we might have tried, we'd actually never done anything to him. In fact, we'd never really done anything to anyone. Of course, there was a slight possibility he might have been a little pissed off about not getting some of those things we'd promised to give him. Of course, we'd had no intentions of ever giving him any of those things. The was a small possibility he might have been upset about one or two of the several score of men that we'd previously transformed into ravishing busty beauties. However, that wasn't any of his business. Try as I might, I had never been able to grasp why some people felt it was their responsibility to stick their big fat damn noses into other people's business where they clearly didn't belong. Besides, every single one of those young men we'd transformed through the ritual were far happier now as hot busty young women than they could have ever been remaining men. Quite simply, they couldn't help but be happier now. The continued happiness and continued well-being of the women they'd become was an integral part of the ritual. At that moment, a woman I'd never seen before entered the room. She was tall and slender. Although I doubted it, she might have been an athlete once. Her shoulder-length hair was a medium shade of brown. Even though I considered her quite attractive, I didn't feel any kind of physical attraction toward her. For reasons I couldn't begin to understand, something about that woman made me very nervous. She didn't say a single word to any of us, which didn't make me feel any better about her being there. Nor did it anything to help ease the situation when she coldly stared at each of us in turn. I found the gleam in her eyes disturbing. However, when she suddenly began smiling at me, I felt far worse. As this strange woman starting sliding her hand slowly along her own slender waist, something - I was convinced it must be a hand - began sliding slowly across mine. It quickly sent a torrent of shivers, not all of them unpleasant, coursing throughout my body. I looked at the others. Whatever the woman was doing and however she was doing it, we clearly all felt the same thing. They looked as uncomfortable as I felt. How the hell was that damn woman doing whatever it was she was doing to us? On the other hand, did it even matter? Everywhere the woman's hand slid slowly across her body, I also felt that same invisible damn hand sliding over mine. Even though I knew I shouldn't be enjoying any of this at all, I still found the touch of that soft invisible hand on my naked flesh extremely exciting. I suddenly heard a noise off to one side. One of the girls - I wasn't sure which one, although I thought she might have once been the man I had long known as Ralph - had collapsed to the floor. I had no idea why she'd fallen, but from where I stood she still seemed all right. From the rapid way her breasts kept rising and falling, I suddenly was filled with an odd desire to be sharing her dream. As the woman lifted both of her hands to her breasts, my own naughty invisible hand was swiftly joined by its equally naughty and invisible mate. I felt them start touching my boobs and nipples. It just felt so damn good. Abruptly, another of the girls collapsed. If the first one had actually been Ralph, then this girl must have been Larry. I might have been a little more concerned about her if I didn't somehow already know that she was perfectly all right. When the woman began methodically massaging her breasts, those same invisible hands turned their naughty attentions to caressing my own boobs. Quicker than I could have ever imagined, their ministrations brought me into a fully aroused state unlike anything I'd ever felt before. Even though I felt somewhat embarrassed by it all, it still felt awfully damn good. I liked this feeling; I liked it an awful lot. As lost in my wonderful state of arousal as I was, I scarcely noticed the collapse of the remaining girls. However, they weren't all that important to me at the moment. I could no longer remember their names, but it didn't matter. Besides, if the girls couldn't handle all the heat being generated, then they should just get the hell out of the damn kitchen. Although I was no longer paying that strange woman a lot of attention, she soon walked over to me. Once she'd stopped in front of me, she looked me squarely in the eyes. I still had no idea what she wanted from me. Before I could think of anything to say, she planted a big wet juicy one squarely on my lips. I sure liked that. However, as much as I enjoyed being the recipient of such an impassioned kiss, the resulting sensual overload of my body soon had me joining the other five new girls on the floor. The next thing I knew I woke up somewhere else all alone on some bed in some room. Within a few moments, I realized that this wasn't just some room somewhere else - it was my room. I didn't exactly know why I hadn't recognized it immediately. Nor was the soft comfortable bed I was lying in just another bed - it was my bed. A girl should certainly recognize her own bed. Shouldn't she? Looking back at it all now, I realized that was the very first time I'd thought of myself as a girl instead of a transformed man. Being a girl didn't seem to bother me just then. Why should it? As far as I knew at that moment, I was a girl and had always been a girl. It wasn't until later - how much later still remained a mystery - that any thoughts to the contrary began surfacing in my mind. Clearly, that strange woman had some kind of power over us. As that man had done before, she must have done something to our minds to make us all accept that fact we were girls. After getting out of my bed, I strolled sexily over to the mirror. Although I'd hated wasting the effort just to walk over and see my own reflection, my body had simply seemed to have a few other ideas of its own. Although I was no longer naked, I wasn't far from it. A hot sexy thong and a string bikini top were all I was wearing. Damn! I looked good! Was I ever like totally hot or what? I was like this totally hot sexy babelicious fox. But what else could be reasonably expected from any hot-blooded blue-eyed sexy blonde babe named Holly? That was the very first time I'd thought of myself as Holly. Nor was it the last time. It didn't bother me. As far as I knew at the time, Holly was the only name I'd ever had. Whenever I was with the other girls, they always called me Holly and never thought anything else about it. At the same time, they all had gained their very own girl names and always answered to them without hesitation. Like me, their new girl names were probably the only names they remembered having. We never gave a second thought to our names. Why should we? Our names were simply our names. I'd always been Holly, in that same way Ronda and Lucy had always been Ronda and Lucy. As far as any of us knew, everything was just the way that everything had always been. That was just fine with all of us. There were simply no reasons that anything should have been any different. I could have never envisioned calling myself Harry then. There were no busty blonde babes named Harry that I knew anything about. Nor would I have ever thought to call any of the girls anything other than the names I knew them as. But that only made stop and think about what was going on for several minutes. If my memories were returning, then why was I still having problems remembering any of those old male names the other girls must have once had? When we'd all been together, we'd always talked about boys. As a matter of fact, the six of us had talked about boys an awful lot. But why wouldn't we? That particular subject had always been just fine with me. As Holly, boys had always been high on the list of my most favorite topics. I could talk about boys for hours and hours at a time without getting the least bit tired or bored. I always slept late. By the time I finally came out of my room in the morning, the other five girls were always well into some interesting discussion of one handsome studly hunk or another. Of course, I sort of naturally joined into any discussion they were having involving boys. I just couldn't help myself. Why had I always been the last one to exit my room every morning? It dawned on me that it wasn't until after I'd started thinking I was really a man that I began waking up early and getting out of my room before any of the other girls. That was the only way I could ever talk one-on-one with any of them. With the exception of Frannie, who was typically another late sleeper like me, I think I'd spoken with all of them about this over the past several weeks. Unfortunately, I didn't know if any of these odd little observations of mine were in any way relevant to anything. Of course, all that time we spent talking about hunky handsome boys quickly made us start feeling hornier than hell. I never minded feeling hot and horny as long as I knew some good-looking guys would be coming along to visit me later on in the day. It was always a relief whenever those totally hot handsome studs finally started showing up at our door. I mean, let's face the simple facts here. A hot sexy girl like me could only wait for so long before she simply had to have a man inside her. I shuddered as I thought about all those female things I must have done as this sexy blonde I'd become under that damn woman's influence. I suppose I might have felt far worse if I'd only had some idea how long I'd been doing what I'd been doing over the time frame of the past several weeks that I was actually aware of doing it. Of course, everything that I'd done before I'd begun remembering must have seemed completely normal all the while I'd been doing it. After all, I must have been under some kind of spell that made me believe I was just some perfectly normal young girl. With that one fact firmly planted in my mind, whatever I had done was entirely normal behavior... for any normal sexy young girl such as the one I'd appeared to be. Whatever damn spell that blasted woman had cast to make me believe I was a girl must have finally begun wearing off. That had to be the real explanation for why I'd suddenly begun thinking I was actually a man. How much longer would I have to wait before the other girls began regaining their normal male personas? I had been the last to succumb to that damn bitch's foul trickery, so it made perfect sense to me that I would also be the first one to fully recover my wits. Clearly, I had the stronger will. I only wished I'd paid a little more attention to the order in which the other girls had fallen victim to whatever evilness that damn woman had done to us. All I had to do now was wait for their minds to return. I could only hope it wouldn't take too much more time for everything to finally return to normal. To help pass the time away, I walked over to the mirror that hung on the wall. Just because that image I saw reflected back from the mirror was actually me didn't mean I couldn't enjoy looking at such a totally hot babe. I could wish it wasn't me, but I knew it was. It seemed highly likely that I was looking at years and years of intense psychological counseling in the upcoming years, especially if I could find no way of getting my former male body back again. Anyone looking at my hot and sexy female body would never believe I was born male. With my totally hot sexy bod, sometimes I even had some troubles believing I'd been born male. I'd probably wind up suffering through dozens of other related worrisome mental problems once I'd seduced the damn fool shrink that would be assigned to my case. But something - aside from the totally obvious - still wasn't right. I couldn't explain it. My hair somehow looked longer now than it had been before. Although I was still a natural blonde, my hair appeared a somewhat darker shade of blonde than before. Were my eyes now less blue than they'd been? Even while I wondered what kind of shit was going on now, strange new thoughts from who the hell knew where began forming in my mind. Once more the cycle completes, only to once again begin anew. I shook my head slowly. That made no sense whatsoever. What the hell did any of that stupid damn shit mean? Even assuming that load of horseshit must mean something to whoever forced those stupid thoughts into my head, it still meant less than squat to me. One month of past reflections followed once again by five more months spent enduring many fleshly pleasures. One cycle to be completed for each of those others that unwisely crossed paths with you and yours. Several dozen cycles have already been completed. Several more gross patiently await their turn to commence. This latest round of stupid shit didn't make any more sense than that first pile of stupid shit had. I'd never owned a cycle so how could I have possibly crossed anyone's path with one. If I was going to continue hearing these damn stupid voices in my head, then they could do me the common civil courtesy of being lucid. All this damn crap about some kind of cycle they kept spouting would easily drive me crazier even faster than retaining my male mind in my current, clearly over-sexed, over-endowed female body. For some unknown reason, I looked toward the mirror again. And quickly wished I hadn't. My now clearly light brown hair fell over my shoulders. I could feel it resting over my shoulder blades. I could also plainly see that my hair now rested casually at the tops of my tits. Even my eyes had become more of a noticeably greenish-blue color. At least my already-too-big tits hadn't gotten any larger. Thank goodness for small favors. But what the hell had happened to me? Why had I changed again? What the fucking hell was going on now? Leaders lead. Whether for good or for bad, the others, aside from the innocent, must always follow their leader. For now you must continue leading, even though the time you lead is ever fleeting. As the cycle commences anew, the leader must always choose the one with whom that new cycle begins. At least some of that stupid crap made a little sense. For some strange reason, it also kind of sounded vaguely familiar. I was, had always been, would always be, the leader of this little circle of ours. After all, even trapped in this ripe female flesh as I was, who would have been a better choice to lead than I? Wasn't it I who had recruited each and every one of them to the cause? I was also the one that had originally discovered and researched the ancient ritual. It was only my most loyal followers who ever shared in any of the pleasures obtained from its performance. For a fleeting moment, I wondered what had happened to Darah. No one had seen her since she'd left with that strange man. Even though I was convinced that had been a long time ago, I still had no clear idea just how long it might have actually been. Even though I knew that would soon change once their memories returned, none of the other girls remembered her. And yet, poor Darah had never once shared in those same carnal pleasures that the rest of us had. That most likely explained her absence now. She'd never truly been one of us at all. Leaders must choose! I wished those damn voices inside my head would just go away and leave me alone. They wanted me to choose something... or rather, someone. But I didn't have any idea who I should pick. I still didn't have a single clue why those strange voices wanted me to pick anyone. I had no idea what they truly wanted from me. Why couldn't they just tell me. Choose now, leader! I winced with the pain. The voices in my head were becoming louder and increasingly insistent. Since a choice was required of me, a choice would have to be made. It was either that or my head might explode. Suddenly, I made the required decision. It just was so obvious. What other choice was there to make aside from... Frank. So be it! It is done! The choice has been made! All that raging turmoil within my mind quickly faded away. The strange voices quieted, seemingly satisfied with my choice of Frank. I wasn't exactly sure why I'd chosen him over Jimmy or Butch or any of the others. It somehow seemed like the right thing to do. After all, Frank had been my very first choice to join my unique circle of power that had brought of us all so much pleasure. He and Jimmy had been with me since that very first time. It had been several years since the three of us had first performed the ancient ritual while standing at the points of an equilateral triangle. That first man we had transformed into our nubile and sexy young plaything had eagerly delighted the three of us for several highly enjoyable weeks before moving on. I wondered what those strange voices would have thought if I had selected Butch instead of Frank. If ever there was a man with a one-track mind when it came to the ladies, it was Butch. Butch was a self-styled boob man from way back. Girls with boobs smaller than watermelons were of no real interest to Butch. Nervously, I looked over at the mirror again. I was stunned. I couldn't believe the image I saw reflected back at me. Even though it hadn't been all that long since I'd last looked into the mirror, my appearance had changed once again. My hair was very clearly a dark brown color now. It had also become several additional inches longer. Never in my life had my hair been so long. As I slowly shook my head, I felt my mass of hair swishing across the middle of my back. In the image reflected back at me from the mirror, I saw my longer new brown locks trying - not all that successfully - to conceal my rather larger tits from view. My eyes were now a dark green. For some unknown reason, I thought they looked even sexier now than ever before. I quickly decided the cause of all these new changes had to be that strange damn woman again. Who else could it possibly be doing this kind of shit to me but her? Very clearly, that damn bitch had it in for all of us for some strange unknown reason. All of us? If I'd been changed again, then what had happened to the others? I suddenly was filled with several doubts. I felt funny. It seemed highly unlikely that the strange bitch would have changed one of us without changing the other five at the same time. There was only one way for me to find out what, if anything, had been done to them. By now, the other girls must be outside their rooms in that common area we all shared. I had to go out into that common area and mingle. I needed to check up on them. I doubted it would take very long to determine if they were still all right. Nervously, I decided on checking the mirror again. A sense of relief swiftly flooded through me. Fortunately - at least I had to assume it was fortunately - my appearance hadn't changed any further. Even so the others were never going to recognize me as me as I'd become. I wondered how long it would take to convince them that I really was me. On the other hand, having this long brown hair and a pair of sexy green eyes wasn't really all that bad. I thought these new changes made me look hotter and sexier than before. However, the changes of hair and eye color would still take a little getting used to. But there was one little thing that sort of annoyed me. If that damn little bitch was going to continue making changes in my body, then why hadn't she made my boobs bigger? A lot of guys liked girls with big boobs. As I walked slowly toward the door, I had this sudden, odd sense of foreboding. I had no real idea why. Or even from where it had come. As many times as I'd already walked toward that damn door in the past several weeks, I'd never once experienced such an intense, or strange, feeling of total deja vu. However, after quickly dismissing the odd feeling as nothing but totally unimportant nonsense, I swung open the door. I was surprised when I stepped out into the small common area. Of all the girls, only Fleur was up and around. I had trouble believing any of the others had somehow outslept me. I couldn't even remember the last time that had happened. As soon as Fleur saw me, she smiled and waved at me. Immediately after that, she started heading my way. That was fine with me since I needed to talk to her any way. As I watched her approaching, I couldn't help but admire her long, straight, silky black hair. I doubted I could ever take care of hair that reached all the way down to my waist the way hers did. I had always had more than enough trouble dealing with my own hair being the length it was. When she arrived at my side, Fleur inexplicably hugged me. I had a strange feeling that something was bothering her. Oddly, I was - at least for a moment or so - a little surprised that she'd called me Heidi. But in less time than it took for another heartbeat, I began wondering how I could have ever been the least bit surprised by that at all. Why shouldn't Fleur call me Heidi? Heidi was my name, just like Fleur was hers. We certainly knew who we were. We had known one another since we were both little girls, although I knew a lot of boys who would laugh hysterically if they ever heard me describe either of us as "little girls". We were no longer "little girls". Then Fleur told me something totally unbelievable. She'd been out here for several hours waiting for one of us to join her. It was no wonder I thought something had been bothering her. Something really weird, not to mention unbelievable, was bothering her. She didn't know why she thought so, but she thought she was a man that had in some mysterious manner been changed into a girl. I was like totally stunned with what she'd just told me. I had no idea why Fleur might have believed she was actually some man. One look - it didn't even need to be a very long one - in the mirror should have easily dispelled that silly notion. She looked nothing like any man I'd ever seen before and I'd seen plenty of men. I was convinced that handsome young stud she'd been with the other night would have been jumping up and down screaming bloody murder if he'd taken her to her bed only to discover Fleur had some body parts that didn't belong to a girl. But that boy had never raised any kind of ruckus. But then, why would he? He'd been off in his own private little dreamland when I'd seen him leaving Fleur's room later. That seemed proof positive to me. Fleur was every bit as much a girl as I was. I knew that for an absolute fact. But that wasn't even all of her strange story. I was like totally convinced Fleur thought I didn't believe her. No kidding. At least my friend's brain wasn't like totally fried yet. However, when she added that other part about how she also thought the other girls and I were also transformed men, I had to admit I sort of doubted her sanity. In spite of Fleur's obvious sincerity, someone would have to be totally flipped out of their gourd to believe an insane story like that. I was a girl and I knew it. However, for some weird unknown reason, something about her peculiar fanciful story seemed somewhat oddly familiar. However, I couldn't worry about that right now. At the same time, I couldn't possibly tell Fleur that I thought she might be crazy. Who could possibly know what she'd do when confronted with the truth? I began wondering if that damn handsome stud from the other night had slipped something funny into one of her drinks. It was something that was very possible. Some of the guys that came visiting us were like that. All of us knew that a girl could never be too careful. I decided I had to keep humoring her. Hopefully, that would keep her calm until some of the other girls finally came out of their rooms to help me deal with Fleur. I hoped it would be Lori or Roni that came out of their rooms first. I was afraid this strange situation would simply worry Janey to death. That poor girl worried so much about everything and anything. I also had my doubts that Bambi and her one-track, overly obsessive about boys, mind would be of any great help keeping Fleur calm. I let Fleur do all the talking. That seemed my best available option. How could I say anything that might set Fleur off if I kept quiet and didn't say anything at all? Besides, letting her talk seemed to help a little. It didn't make her weird delusions go away, but it seemed to keep her reasonably calm. At least she wasn't yelling at me or doing something worse. When Bambi's door opened, I felt a little disappointed. I couldn't see how Bambi could possibly help me with Fleur. It would have been like totally different if Fleur were actually the male she'd been claiming she was. My busty blonde friend Bambi like had this way of making indelible impressions on most males she met. As soon as Bambi joined us, Fleur tried telling her the same strange tale that she'd told me. Not too surprisingly, Bambi wasn't overly interested. She'd briefly perked up a little at the "being a male" part of Fleur's story, but whatever interest that had evoked faded away in light of the truth. In the same way I knew the truth, Bambi knew Fleur was a girl. Bambi might be a busty blonde, but she wasn't stupid. Bambi quickly changed the subject and started talking about boys. It came as no big surprise. Boys was actually the one and only subject in which she was readily conversant. If universities gave out Ph.D.'s in boys, then Bambi would have already earned several dozen of them. There were times I was a little jealous about how easily Bambi could bamboozle some boy into doing exactly what she wanted him to do. But that was just the way Bambi was. At the same time, I had to admit that boys was a far more interesting subject than Fleur's incredibly strange tale. The subject of boys was something to which I could like more easily relate. I liked boys; I always had. However, I definitely didn't want to be one. I couldn't begin to imagine how strange it would be thinking I might be one. Poor delusional Fleur. Why did something like this have to happen to her? However, I soon began thinking I'd made a small error in my earlier judgment. Bambi had actually turned out to be a lot more help that I could have ever believed possible. As Bambi kept talking on and on about boys, I couldn't help but join in. Boys had always been my most favorite subject. At first, Fleur had been a little annoyed with Bambi for constantly changing the subject. But even she couldn't ignore the heady topic of boys for very long. She had tried for a while, but had finally given in to the inevitable. I was convinced it was simply a lifetime of being a girl overriding whatever shit that sneaky little hunk of a bastard had slipped into her drink last night. Once we finally got Fleur talking about boys, she wouldn't shut up. I knew that her going on and on about boys like had to be a good sign. As long as she kept talking about boys, she wasn't thinking she was one. Even better than that, she wasn't thinking I was one either. By the time the rest of the girls came out of their rooms and joined us, we'd been talking about boys for a couple of hours at least, even though it seemed more like a few minutes rather than hours. Boys was like such a totally interesting subject. Since Lori, Roni, and Janey enjoyed talking about boys as much as the rest of us girls did, they all jumped right into our continuing discussion. Soon, I was convinced that Fleur had forgotten about all that stupid nonsense about being a man transformed into a woman. No one that had any of those ideas Fleur had been recently expressing about men could possibly believe she was a man. In fact, I planned on trying some of the more interesting things she'd mentioned myself as soon as it was possible. I was glad that Fleur was feeling better. Once she'd been with a man again, I was convinced her strange delusions would never trouble her again. Of course, the six of us continued talking about boys for hours and hours. I had no idea know how long we talked, but then however long it had been wasn't overly important. I was also feeling so hot and horny, not that it ever took too much effort to arouse me. A glance in Fleur's direction told me she was feeling the same way. Clearly, all of us girls were feeling that same thrilling flush of excitement. That was just the way it was. All six of us always got hot and horny whenever we talked for very long about boys. It just couldn't be helped. Whenever three or more of us got together, talk always quickly turned to boys. That was just the way we were and we loved it. None of us, especially Bambi, ever thought there could be anything wrong with talking about boys. And once we became fully aroused, there was only one way that any of us ever found relief. Fortunately, that was never a problem. There were always more than enough men around this place to fill the needs of the six of us many times over. Scores of willing men with only one thought on their little minds were apparently always hanging around someplace nearby. All of those hot hunky guys seemed to know right where we were at any given time. And even better than that, they had great timing. The boys always found us at exactly the right time. You'd almost think someone was helping them out somehow. Although I'd never discovered who it was - I didn't really care - whoever it was that had set us up here had made certain that a willing and enthusiastic supply of whatever we most needed was always readily available. They'd simply thought of like everything a group of horny young girls would ever need. When the six men finally entered the room, all of us were more than ready to get started. Talk was always so cheap. Talking was never the same as doing the real thing. I could only talk about doing it for so long before I had to start doing it for real. We all felt the same way about that. When I saw Fleur enter her room with that handsome hunk she'd snared, I felt even better about her than I had before. I was more convinced than ever that her strange delusions were now gone for good. She had that kind of look in her eyes that showed she meant business. She would have never had that kind of look in her eyes if she'd still thought she was a man. I hoped that handsome hunk with her wouldn't slip something nasty into Fleur's drink like that last one must have done. I didn't want to go through any of this damn nonsense again tomorrow morning. Although I didn't know why, I suddenly started thinking about Fleur's strange delusion again. Something about the whole weird story sounded somewhat familiar. However, I had no doubts about her tale being anything but total utter nonsense. And yet, if it were total utter nonsense as I knew it must be, then why was I suddenly fighting off another of those intense strange bouts of deja vu again? Maybe it was only because we were running off to our rooms with virile young men again. We'd definitely done that more than enough times to warrant some definite feelings of familiarity or deja vu. However, somewhere deep down inside of me, I didn't think that was the real explanation. Could it possibly be that Fleur's story actually had some merit to it? After thinking about it for a few seconds, I doubted it did. It was insane. Her damn tale was simply too inane for any rational person to believe. And yet... Before I had the time to give Fleur's story any more consideration, the young man that I'd be spending the night with slipped his strong arms about my waist. Like what a hunky hulk. I couldn't believe just how strong he was. The feel of his arms about my waist was far more important than wasting any more thoughts about Fleur's clearly impossible fantasy tale. Besides, my attentive young soon-to-be lover was also quite handsome. As I led him back to my room, his nearness made me grow more and more excited. I was hoping he'd be as good in the sack as the last couple of men I'd had had been. In any event, I could put off worrying about Fleur's tale until some time tomorrow... or later. Her story simply wasn't that important, especially with this young stud waiting to bed me. He didn't seem the overly patient kind, but then neither was I. It seemed highly likely that my man and I would have plenty of fun together tonight. Besides, if, as I thought was the case, Fleur were already cured of her weird delusions, then so much the better for all of us. None of us would ever have to worry about hearing anything so totally stupid as us being men ever again. At least, I hoped we'd heard the last of it. Somehow, I wasn't entirely sure it was. THE END