Altered Fates: Chimera, Pt.2 free porn video

Altered Fates: Chimera, Part 2 By Elliot Reid I knew I shouldn't have told Simone about the Medallion of Zulo. But then she said, "If you let me use it, I'll sleep with you," and my defenses crumbled. What a wuss I am! I had been going out with Simone for six weeks, a genuine boyfriend/ girlfriend relationship. It had started soon after I'd used the Medallion to 'wear' someone else's body. The experience of being transformed into a woman and back again had been liberating. Overnight my hang-ups about girls disappeared. It was like having my cherry busted, even though I was still technically a virgin as the only woman I'd ever been with was, um, myself. But no matter. Sex and women were no longer complete mysteries. I'd come out of the experience more confident and relaxed. The day after I'd changed back I'd asked Simone out and she'd said 'yes'. So over the following weeks we did the little dating dance, going to the movies and generally hanging out. She was a funny, smart girl and she laughed at my jokes. Everyone said we were good together. But I'm only a teenager, not quite eighteen, and in spite of my shapeshifting experiences I still had all these hormones rushing about. Sex was always in the back of my mind, and probably Simone's too. So while we dated, there was this unspoken tension between us. Simone was not what anyone would call pin-up material, but I thought she looked just fine. Love--or was it lust?--does that to you. She had a great body, with a tiny waist and magnificent breasts that made up for her plain appearance. Frankly, I couldn't help but feel horny when I thought of her. And I think she knew. We made out after the movies. We found places to be private. Her folks were pretty liberal, letting me up into her room where we could embrace and kiss long and deep. I once tried to move things along, to touch her, moving a hand to her chest, to feel the softness and warmth there, but she batted my hand away. "Please no, Robin. I'd rather not," she said. And that was that. I was stuck at first base and didn't know if I'd ever get to second. I tried to talk with her about it, but got only hesitant answers. "I'm really not comfortable about this," she told me. "I'm not ready for sex." "It's not sex, it's making out," I'd foolishly blurted. "It's sex, Robin," she'd said in a steely voice. "It always escalates to sex. It's about emotion and power and control and I'm not ready for it. You are going to have to wait." Waiting is not in a teenager's vocabulary and though my head said 'go slow', my heart found this hard advice to accept. However, it was days before Simone would let me kiss her again. My new-found confidence was dented. I felt I was on shifting ground, not quite knowing what she was thinking, not understanding the signals, or knowing what to say or to do to make things better. It was weird. This was a new facet to Simone. The sassy, smart, brainy student I was dating had this buttoned-down Catholic Girl side. I'm sure she was discovering stuff about me too. My facade at school was the sensitive geek, but when I came within reach of my new girlfriend I started turning into some hormone-charged jerk with wandering hands. "Who would'a thunk that the geek could act like a jock?" she scolded me, after extracting herself from another clinch. "I have hidden shallows," I admitted, ruefully. I found it difficult to control myself. My horny teenaged frustration was growing. I wanted her, so much. But at the same time I wondered whether I was going overboard, whether I was going to lose her. And then the Medallion of Zulo intervened. Simone brought it up. She'd found the urban legends about the Medallion online and was fascinated by them. "The stories all vary, but they have these common threads," she told me, while we drank coffee in the dim chrome interior of our regular diner hangout. The diner was a corny '50s replica, but Simone liked the retro chic and thought it cool. I knew all about the stories, of course, but was vainly trying to look disinterested, using my fingernail to flick sugar grains that had fallen onto the plastic tabletop. "This Medallion is supposed to be magic," she continued. "You don't believe in magic, do you?" I feebly tried to deflect her. "Not magic, no," she replied. "If something's happening, there's a scientific explanation for it; maybe something chemical, or psychological, or technological. But this is weird stuff." "How so?" "Look at mythology, at stories about magic. Take all those old folk tales from Europe where there is some kind of sympathetic magic involved. Viking warriors who go into a battle-rage are thought to be channeling the spirits of bears, so they become 'bear-shirts', or 'berserks'. In some of the stories they actually turn into bears, but as far as we know there's no real magic--just these dudes wearing bearskins who get into a killing rage." "So these urban legends about the Medallion are just about a bunch of gender-confused transvestites?" I tried to laugh it off, but Simone was on a roll. "Yeah, maybe. But the stories are too recent and too specific. The old folk tales about berserks and werewolves and silkies and other animal transformations are vague and fuzzy and follow some kind of dream logic. The only thing consistent about them is their inconsistency. But the stories about the Medallion of Zulo are different; they follow a well- defined set of rules. The Medallion has to be worn by the person who changes. If they touch a piece of clothing to it, they transform into the person that last wore that garment. It's as if the clothes retain the memory of the person who had worn them. And the person is stuck in that form for twelve hours--a half day--before the magic can work again. "These details are consistent across all the stories. The old wives' tales focused on the results of the transformation and are fables or parables. These Zulo stories are all about the mechanism of the change. Everything flows from that. Which makes me wonder what the root of the story was. What the reality is." There are times in your life that you get a rush of adrenaline. Your head spins and you can't hold things in. As Simone had been talking I'd been bursting to tell her everything, and I couldn't stop myself blurting: "Simone, what if I told you I had the Medallion?" Then all Hell broke loose. * Have you ever had one of those big whirlygig arguments with your girlfriend? You know, the ones that go all over and lose you along unexpected byways? One moment you think you are discussing whether this magical dingus of yours is for real. Then a minute later you realize that what you were really arguing over was the fact that you'd concealed it from your girlfriend and she was mad at you for lying to her. This was one of those arguments. I had trouble following it. All I could remember was that Simone was seething mad at me for three hours straight. She went from incredulity to cautionary acceptance of my story and then to a fixation of why I hadn't told her earlier. Only when she calmed down did she started demanding solid proof of the magic. I didn't have the Medallion with me, so I had to talk fast. "You remember when I used to be the skinny nerd in the corner of class?" I said. We were now sitting in the privacy of Simone's bedroom, the door locked so her parents couldn't burst in. I sat on the floor, back to the wall. "I used to be an eight-stone apology," I continued, "now I'm two separate gorillas!" I pulled up my shirt to show my abs, which looked pretty good, if I say so myself. "I thought that was some kind of growth spurt," Simone said, doubtfully. "Or that you'd been working out." "It's the medallion," I told her. "Works with unworn clothes, too. It sort of moulds you into the ideal shape to wear those clothes. I bought some sports stuff and... voila!" "Instant hunkitude, eh? Isn't that cheating?" She asked, searchingly. "Sure it is!" I replied. "But that's the whole deal with the Medallion. It's all about cheating. Everyone else gets one shot in life. If the genetic roulette wheel deals you a bad hand..." "Mixed metaphors," Simone interjected. "Roulette wheels don't deal cards." "You know what I mean, Sim. Nobody's physically perfect, unless you are one of those lucky people at the far end of the bell curve who get all the looks or the athletic prowess; the ones who get on TV and on magazine covers. The rest of us schmoes just get on with life, with our imperfect looks and our failing bodies." "You forgot the people at the other end of the curve who hit every branch of the ugly tree on the way down," said Simone. "Sure," I agreed, "they have the suckiest time of all. The thing is this: the Medallion is a second chance. I have no idea why it came to me. Maybe some cosmic karma thing, I really don't know. But I'm glad it did. I feel no guilt in using it." Simone sniffed. I could see the wheels turning in her head. The corner of her mouth was turned up, pensively, as if she was chewing on some idea. "I suppose you considered that the Medallion might be setting you up for some bad life lesson. This is powerful voodoo. You might succumb to temptation and the magic will screw you." "Yeah, I considered that. It's a risk." "But have you thought how shallow this all is? All it does is change your appearance. It doesn't make you a better person." "Sure thing," I said. "But look at the society we live in. It's all shallowness and mediocrity. People get breaks because of their appearance, rather than on merit. Is that fair?" "It's not fair, Rob, but..." Simone seemed to be trying to persuade herself of something. "...this whole shapechange thing smacks of selfishness. I'm not sure of your motives for changing yourself. Is it really about fairness? Or is it about grabbing attention for yourself and using it to step on everyone else as you climb the ladder of life? I'm trying to figure out what kind of person this makes you." "You've got me, Simone." I was nodding my head. "That's the whole moral dilemma of this thing. I have this power, this opportunity. But am I doing the right thing?" "You're trying to rationalize this, aren't you?" "Sure," I agreed, before leaning into her body space. "And so are you. Listen to yourself, Sim. You're projecting your own fears. You're wondering what YOU might do when faced by this temptation." Simone was looking deep into my eyes. "You're right. I'm torn by this thing, Rob. If it does what you say it does--and I'm not totally sold on whether it's true, though you clearly believe it is--then this is both a blessing and a curse. I mean, it's great if you can make yourself look like some stud or a supermodel. But this magic doesn't seem benign. It sounds like the set-up for some fable or parable with a bad ending." "Do all stories have to have an unhappy ending?" I reached over and laid my hand on Simone's hand. I knew the subtle pressure that physical contact put on her and suspect she knew it too. "If you look at the origins of those old myths and fables and folk tales they were not all there for our instruction. Sometimes magic and mystery just exists; it just IS. There may be no greater cosmic reason for it to be there." And with that, Simone asked me straight out: "Can I use the Medallion for myself?" I hesitated for a long moment. I was unsure about giving this power away, even briefly, EVEN to my girlfriend. Simone noted the pause and gave me a nudge. "If you let me use it, I'll sleep with you," she said. At that, my lust overwhelmed my doubt. We had a deal. * I had to wait two weeks for my cut of the deal. Simone had made good use of the Medallion in that time. She'd been buying unworn clothing and using it to reshape herself in subtle ways. I had to admire what she'd done. From being a little stocky she'd slimmed down to a classic hourglass figure. Her boobs were slightly smaller, which I'd thought a shame. "You don't have to cope with the backaches," she'd replied, and I agreed her new shape was statuesque and sexy before kissing her hard. Her friends at school had noticed the changes too, and Simone was trying to fend it all off by claiming it was the result of the Atkins diet, or something. "So do you believe in magic, now?" I'd asked Simone. "I'm not sure if this is magic or some super-advanced technology. Though it seems damn strange to dress up a high-tech deeley to look like kiddy costume jewellery. That's just perverse!" In addition to her body, Simone's face had changed, too. Again, this was subtle and I asked her how she did it. "It's like a 'microchange'," she said, over lunch in the school cafeteria, as she pushed something that was supposed to be meatloaf around her plate. Since Sim and I were now officially 'an item' we were often seen together at lunch. "I discovered that if you take off the medallion part way through a change, it stops," she continued. "So with a little trial and error you can make small changes. You become a halfway house between shapes--a Chimera--part one thing and part another." "You did an amazing job," I said. "Your face looks a little more rounded and... your lips have grown a little more, uh, feminine. It looks great on you." "Thanks. Or at least, thank my big sister Sarah. I found an old hat of hers in the closet and used that. I let it microchange my head and face a little before stopping. We share my father's eyes--though I also caught his Irish potato-faced gene. However, Sarah has Mom's mouth and bone structure, and it's that I changed." "Wow, very kissable," I said, leaning into her. "Save it for later, Tiger," she smiled, leaning back from my kiss. "Anyway, I'm shocked you have this thing about my sister's hot lips." "It suits you, Sim, it really does," I put on my most insincere sincere face. "Suuuuure'" she grimaced. "The one downside is that I also got some of Sarah's wavy hair and I can't do anything with it." Simone WAS more kissable with her new mouth and we enjoyed some great clinches. But again I couldn't get past first base. "I'm not ready, not like this," she'd told me, after another blown attempt to caress her through her top. "This is driving me crazy, Sim," I said. "Since you got the Medallion you look hot as hell and it's hard to control myself." "Soon, Rob. It'll happen soon. Now's not the right time. We need some space when my folks aren't around. They're driving to Columbus next week to stay with my uncle and aunt. It'll happen then, I promise." * The big day came over the Easter recess. I rode my bike over to Simone's house on Good Friday morning, a large ranch home down by Wooldale with an immaculate lawn and an inviting-looking pool out back. Simone's folks, Mike and Susannah, were long gone for Ohio and that meant we had a whole weekend to ourselves. Simone, in a tight top and short pants, greeted me at the door with a long and passionate kiss. She tasted of coffee and caramel chocolate. My hands were all over her but she swiftly pulled away, meshing her fingers in mine to keep them out of mischief. "Whoa, slow down!" she said, coquettishly. "We've got all day." This did nothing to quench my appetite. As she backed into the cream comfort of the lounge, I pressed my body against hers, feeling her softness and heat and we kissed again. Then she broke away. "Rob, I'm just going to slip into something more comfortable. Wait here." I waited as she padded upstairs to her bedroom. And I waited, gently pacing the carpet, feeling hot and horny, my heart racing. And I waited, watching the clock go ticka-tick, the long hand sweeping around the dial. "Sim, are you okay?" I called up the stairs. "I'm getting changed. Be down in five minutes!" Her voice was muffled and indistinct. I put two and two together. And then I ran, pelting upstairs, shouting. "You're using the Medallion! You're changing shape, aren't you?" I ran up to her bedroom door, which was shut. "Don't come in!" It was a plaintive sound, somewhere between a squeal and a sob. "Rob, pleeeease! Just a few more minutes!" I was standing by the door, hesitating, hand almost on the handle, staring at the small child's 'Simone's Room' plate with a picture of flowers on it. "Sim, what's going on? I want YOU, just as you are, not as something else. Why are you doing this?" "I'm sorry Rob, forgive me," she said from somewhere in the bedroom. Was her voice a little huskier? "I've got to do it this way. I can't be me and do this; I'm not ready for that. I have to be someone else." "Someone else? Who are you turning into?" My heart was in my mouth. What was happening here? There was a long pause, and then I heard her say. "I'm done. You can come in now, Rob." I put my hand on the door handle and turned it and walked in. There was Simone's room, with the bed, the dresser, the books and the shelf lined with keepsake teddy bears that she couldn't bring herself to throw out. And standing there, hands nervously twisting, dressed only in white panties and a blouse, her cornrowed hair flat against her skull, shifting her weight on her long coffee limbs, was Ayesha Sanderson. I stood, gaping. In all fairness, Simone's taste in bodies was impeccable. Ayesha was a head-turner and one of the dominant girls amongst the seniors. She was pretty, charismatic and had a mind like a razor; a hardworking, straight-A student who was liked pretty much by everyone. She was also one of the school's track stars and a reserve on the swim team. She was a knockout in every department and now she--or at least her lithe, athletic doppelganger--was standing in front of me. "Simone?" I asked. Stupid really. I knew exactly who was behind those brown almond eyes and those luscious dark lips. "Do you want me?" She asked in Ayesha's voice, advancing toward me. Her graceful arms started to curl around me. Her beautiful face was inches from mine and I could smell her musk and feel the heat of her body. "Yes, but..." I started, and then gave in. I had no willpower left to rationalize the situation. Simone/Ayesha was coming on to me, one hand slipping inside my shirt to feel my abs, the other guiding my head down to hers, and then we were kissing, tongues tipping against each other, then briefly exploring deeper. Her taste was musky and heavy. Then she separated and said, "I want you," with that slight Ayesha husk in her voice. And suddenly the madness took over and we were falling back onto her bed in a tangle of limbs, hands exploring and kissing and pressing so that every part of us touched the other. Although I'd briefly been a woman in the past, I was still a sexual novice. I knew how to masturbate, how to pleasure myself, but not how to caress someone else's body, particularly when they were passionately embracing you. Neither of us had laid out any ground rules and so we fumbled, light skin against dark skin, her smooth, naked limbs sliding against mine, grabbing and pawing and kissing, none of it making any sense. If we weren't so damned horny we wouldn't have enjoyed it at all. Eventually we began to work it out. I found myself falling into a pile of pillows and crisp white cotton. Simone was laying back in my arms. My hand slipped inside her blouse, caressing the swell of her breasts. This time, she didn't push me away. Now my experience began to kick in. I knew from my old Suki body how to cup Simone's small, sensitive boobs and tease the nipples to attention until she moaned. In a moment I'd unbuttoned her blouse and exposed her perfect little athlete breasts and my fingers were delicately ringing the big, dark aureoles. I could feel her shudder slightly and her spine arch a fraction, forcing her shoulders into me. Leaving one hand to play with Simone's boobs, I was now in the perfect position to slip the other hand down, over the flat muscle of her belly, to her panties. I lightly touched her crotch through the cotton and she spasmed with pleasure, breathing hard. I could feel heat and moistness there, and in a flash my fingers had pushed down her underwear slightly and begun to feel through the rough undergrowth of her pubic hair to her pussy. I found her labia, and then I was inside her, fingertips probing the slick wetness. In seconds, Simone's new body was shuddering with pleasure as I began to tease at her clitoris and finger-fuck her. It was the strangest thing. The moment I caressed Simone's clit, her entire body flopped, so she was now lying on me, a dead-weight. It was as if the pleasure was so intense she lost control of her limbs and lay gasping like a fish washed up on the shore. I kept working at her, one hand stroking her taut titties and the other her pussy, until cramped fingers meant I had to change hands. I think she came, once or twice. She said no words, but just moaned and squeaked as I turned her on. My dick was rock hard and I felt close to coming myself, as if my balls would burst. But I kept servicing Simone until both my hands hurt and I was tired from masturbating her. As soon as I stopped she seemed to regain her strength and rolled off me. Her panties were down round her legs, so she pulled those off, and shucked off the blouse. I was looking at a naked copy of Ayesha. She had a long, slender body with sculpted muscle, small scoops for breasts, and a dark triangle of pubic hair, only slightly shaved. She had smooth, coffee skin and legs to die for--a black Venus on the half-shell. "Time to give you a treat." Simone/Ayesha smiled and reached for my belt. I still had my pants and shorts on but in moments I'd helped her pull them down. I lay on the bed, slightly embarrassed and self-conscious, aware that my penis was rising proud and hard. Then Simone sat down on the bed and I felt her hand grasp and caress my dick and in moments she was leaning over it, mouth open, starting to lick and suck. Simone had never been a man. She didn't have my experience across the gender divide, so her novice blow-job began as an awkward, groping fumble. Unsure how this worked myself, I had to gently coach her in how to pleasure me. Slowly, she got into the rhythm of the thing and it began to feel so good, with the gentle sensation of her tongue, lapping at the nerve-endings in my dick, creating a metallic buzz of sensation. I looked down to see her naked body, on all fours, her tiny boobs hanging beneath her and swaying as she dipped her head to my penis. Then she used one hand to cup my balls, and a surge ran through my body. I felt a pumping sensation and I came in Simone's mouth, which she began to lap up. I was moaning and relaxing back into the bed, concentrating all my energy in my loins and the sensation of Simone's sweet sucking. And when I'd finished orgasming, when she was done, she clambered up and lay down beside me, where I could hold her and touch her and kiss her, tasting the sour flavor of my cum on her tongue as my hand brushed up and down her smooth flanks and cupped the swell of her ass. We snuggled a while, not speaking, smelling each other's sweat and afterglow. Eventually, stroking the roughness of Simone/Ayesha's cornrowed hair, I asked her: "I still don't understand why you changed into Ayesha." Simone thought about this for a while. "I'm really not comfortable in my own body, Rob. Never have been. Even with all the changes I've made with the Medallion. I'm really insecure about myself. I still think of myself as this potato-faced Irish girl with fat hips." "Not to me, you're not. I think you're beautiful in your own body." At that, Simone kissed me and we tasted each other again. "That's real sweet, Rob. I appreciate it. But I needed this change. I wanted to be someone else for a while, and play at being beautiful. It made it more comfortable." "It made you more slutty," I smiled, benevolently. "Would you have done that had you been in your own body?" "I don't know, I really don't," Simone said, her dark new eyes searching mine. "Once the change had been made I kind lost control. The brakes were off. I just felt horny as hell and it was easier to give into the feelings once I wasn't me any more." "But why Ayesha?" I said, eyebrow raised. "I mean, she's Miss Goody Two- Shoes. Her father's a Lutheran minister. She does charity work. If you wanted to be a slut I thought you'd try someone like Kelly Graham or one of the party crowd." "Yeah, but I couldn't steal any of Kelly's clothes," sighed Simone. "Anyway, I always thought Ayesha was a dirty minx under that button-down get-up." "Really?" I laughed. "You mean this is all your projection? You imagined she was a bad girl and played the part? That's too funny, man!" "I didn't see you complaining," Simone smiled, batting me lightly with a hand. "No no!" I backed up. "I mean she has an amazing body, uh YOU have an amazing body. I can't keep my hands off it. It's so great with you inside that skin. I mean, that sex was just... wow!" "That's what I thought," said Simone, thoughtfully. "The way you were touching me and turning me on made me think you'd done this before." She paused, and then asked, "You've been a woman, haven't you? You've used the Medallion to shapechange into one?" There was no sense in denying it. I decided to be open with Simone. "Yeah, you found me out. I experimented once. I wanted to see what it felt like." "And?" "It felt great." "Who did you become? Your sister?" Simone seemed eager to know. "Eww, no. The idea of being my sister gives me the shivers. No, it was her best friend at college, Terri." "I've never met her," said Simone. "Who is she?" "You want the truth? She's this girl I crushed on for a while before she gave me the brush-off. I stole some of her stuff and... well, I got to be her for a day." "Are you still crushing on her?" "Not any more," I smiled. "I'm crushing on you, now." With that, I started to touch Simone's tiny breasts again, feeling their silk smoothness and using my thumbs to stroke her nipples hard. She made an 'Mmmmm" noise at this and kissed me, while reaching down between my legs to cup my balls. I felt my penis grow rigid and then she began to stroke it, making my balls ache. Simone pulled away from the kiss. "Well, we've reached third base," she said. "Let's see if we can make it to fourth." With that, we started making love again. Caressing each other until we were so hot that we couldn't delay coupling any longer. Simone produced a condom from somewhere and we figured out how to put it on. And then I was on top of Simone, at first fumbling, and then sliding deep into her wetness, and starting to pump away. As I thrust, I could hear Simone saying, "I'm a virgin... she's a virgin." After that all I could hear was the sobs she made with each of my strokes until I came again. Then, exhausted from the sex, we fell asleep, cradling each other. I nuzzled into Simone's creamy brown shoulders and held onto her for dear life, telling her how much I loved her until I drifted off. * We woke in the late afternoon and made love again, only stopping for a break for food. In the shaded breakfast nook of her home, Simone was complaining about her new body. "It's the first time we've been out of bed since I changed and this is the weirdest thing." "How so?" I asked. "I don't know how to describe it, just everything is out of whack." I was sitting at the kitchen table and Simone, dressed again in panties and blouse, was reaching into the fridge to rescue some milk for our coffee. "It's like the weight and balance of this body is all wrong. My limbs are different shapes and lengths to before and I feel a bit clumsy with them." "It was like that for me when I first changed into a girl. I kept knocking my knees together." "Yeah, and like my teeth feel different when I touch them with my tongue. And I can't get over seeing the color of my skin. And my vision is a bit sharper. And the difference in my sense of smell... It's all so dislocated from myself." "So are there any upsides to being Ayesha, Simone?" "Oh, plenty," she grinned, a big Ayesha smile, all dazzling teeth. "I think I look hot, even all nekkid." "I won't argue with that," I said, as Simone poured the milk and then put down the carton. "I like my new boobs," she said, looking down at her chest and clutching her breasts for a moment. "They don't get in the way and they are REALLY sensitive." "What is it with that?" I asked. "I tried on two girl bodies--Terri and this Asian girl--and the smaller boobs felt so much better." "Ah, it's probably something to do with the nerve endings being all clustered together when they are tiny. I don't know. They feel nicer, though. And who is this Asian girl you're talking about? Sounds like you experimented more than you're letting on." With that I blush and 'fessed up about 'Suki', the unknown woman I saw in the department store whose body I borrowed. Simone was impressed. "I mean, you went outside as a girl and then did some shopping. You're braver than me. I'd be terrified of going outside like this." "Why? You look great!" "Well, yeah. But firstly, I have no clothes that properly fit. I bet my shoes are too large for Ayesha's feet. And second, what if I bump into the real Ayesha down at the mall?" "You'll think of something," I said, grinning. "Look, I have a better idea," Simone said, cupping her coffee. "You told me you have outfits for Terri's body, so why don't you bring those over tomorrow? Terri's not a local girl, so no one will recognize her. I'll turn into Terri and we can go out together." "Uh, is this a sensible idea, Simone?" "Sure it is. You said you loved me; just trust me on this." She took a deep breath, and then hit me with the kicker. "You always wanted to make love to Terri, now you can." And with that unbeatable offer, poor weak soul that I am, the deal was done.