Vengeance
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Vengeance
By Ellie Dauber (c) 2007
Author's note. The idea for this short came from the
news of the armed gunman at NASA this past week
(04/20/07). When I heard the news that the gunman and
the male hostage were dead, but the female survived, I
thought... well, read the story, and you'll see what I
thought. Then you might write a review and say what
you thought.
* * * * *
The last thing I remember was the sound of the
gunshot. I didn't even feel it hit me.
I was floating, surrounded by a whiteness so bright
that I could even see it with my eyes closed. If I had
really had eyes in that disembodied state.
Then -- suddenly -- I did have eyes. I felt flesh
surround me, contain me, again, and it felt...
wonderful.
I was sitting in a chair. My arms -- _my_ arms -- tied
behind my back. I was blindfolded and gagged, too.
Jaime Velasquez had certainly known how to tie someone
up.
He certainly had. I had to laugh when I thought that,
gag or no gag.
I heard shouts from someplace. "Mr. Velasquez...
Jaime... is everything all right in there?" When there
was no answer, they called other names: Pete Langdon,
Rosa deSantos. No one answered. We couldn't.
I heard the sound of wood shattering. Axes, maybe: who
knew. Who cared? I leaned back in the chair and
started to get used to my new body.
Moments later, I heard the same voice, very close,
very... male. "It's all right, Ms. deSantos; we're the
police. I'm Sgt. Mullen." He was untying my hands. As
soon as they were free, I pulled off the blindfold.
I gasped through the gag. The sight of my body, my
_former_ body lying dead on the floor was a shock. My
-- _his_, I had to remember to say _his_ -- face had a
look of surprise and fear. Why shouldn't it?
Did it hurt to die, I wondered. I found myself hoping
that it did. I'd squeezed the trigger as the spell
took effect. I hoped that Rosa's spirit had gotten
into my body in time to feel the pain as it died.
Langdon, that puerco, was dead, too. I'd shot him
first, right between those beady eyes. I don't know
which I enjoyed more: the look on his face when the
bullet hit or the look on Rosa's when she saw her
lover die. I smiled at the memory, then quickly
changed that expression to one of fear. It wouldn't do
for anyone to see Rosa deSantos smiling.
"Can you walk?" Mullen asked.
I got to my feet." I think so." I was six inches
shorter, top heavy, and in heels. "Maybe you'd better
help me," I said nervously.
He took my arm and started guiding me towards the
door. We had to pass near my... Jaime's body. "Son of
a BITCH!" I shouted, especially that last word -- the
first two were pretense, and spat. Mullen didn't say a
word, though I though I heard him chuckle at my
obviously feminine actions.
* * * * *
I got back to our apartment a couple of hours later.
The people Rosa worked for had given her the rest of
the week off with pay. The cops hadn't been very much
of a hassle. I was a kidnapping victim, for G-d's
sake. How could they be anything but helpful. A doctor
checked me over quickly; no damage, of course. I'd
been careful not to hurt the body I was going to
occupy.
Mullen gave me his card, in case I needed to talk to
him about the case. The way he acted, I think he was
hoping I'd want to talk to him about other, personal
things. I couldn't blame him. This body was _hot_, but
I had no intention of having sex with anybody else
until I saw Mama Luisa. She had promised she could
change it into a male one.
Rosa hadn't changed the apartment much from the day
she threw me out. There was a picture of her and
Langdon at some amusement part, where our wedding
picture had been. There were some male clothes I
didn't recognize in the bedroom closet. They, and a
few other things around the place that had to be his,
would go in the trash or to Goodwill as soon as I had
the chance.
I yawned. Well, it had certainly been one hell of a
busy day. I walked back into the bedroom and began to
unbutton my blouse. I tossed it on the bed and stepped
out of my skirt.
The closet doors were mirrored. I could see myself,
and it was a sight to behold. I walked -- no, I
strutted -- over for a better look. It was worth the
walk.
The reflection was of a tall, athletic-looking Latina
with coppery colored skin and jet black hair that hung
straight down just past her shoulders. She wore a dark
blue demi-bra that went well with her skin tone and
made her 36-C breasts look even bigger. She wore a
matching blue panty, barely wider than a thong, and,
under the panty, a garter belt that held up a pair of
slate gray, very sheer stockings. Her legs looked
perfect, with three-inch heels giving them just the
right amount of feminine curves. No man could resist a
woman who looked like that.
Not even a man stuck in that very body.
I felt my nipples tighten. There was a warm, kind of
_empty_ feeling in my crotch. As always, Rosa knew how
to dress to make a man horny.
I decided to do something about it. I slid my left
hand under the bra and began to play with her nipple,
tweaking and rubbing it. My G-d, that felt good! I did
the same with the other breast, and it felt -- I felt
-- even better. I kept it up for a while, enjoying the
sensations running through me. Then, my right hand
moved slowly, deliciously slowly, down, down, down to
my crotch.
I found my slit. It was already moist, and ran my nail
along the edge. "Oooooh." I was still a moaner, just
like before. I slid in a finger, then another. I
found my clit and began to play with it the way Rosa
had always liked. I moaned again and stumbled
backwards. My knees felt weak, my legs were wobbly.
I didn't stop, but I got to my bed and lay down,
kicking off my shoes. Just in time, too. Something had
been building, peaking in me. Without warning, it
broke. An explosion of pleasure washed over me. My
body rose off the bed as I screamed. "Yes! Yes! Pete,
yes!"
I came back from that explosion into a comforting
warmth like nothing I had felt before. My hand kept
the motion going, and soon I felt the joy, the
pleasure building in me again. The second orgasm was
better than the first, and the third better still.
Exhausted, I pulled my hand out of my tingling pussy
and laid back on the bed.
My heart was beating so fast I could almost hear it.
I was covered with sweat that plastered my clothes to
my body. My hair was a tangle from my movements in the
midst of orgasm. And I was smiling the biggest, most
satisfied smile of my life.
I fell asleep that way.
I don't remember much of the dream I had. I was myself
again, arguing with Rosa about something. There was
no way to tell what; we argued about so many things. I
grabbed her, forced her down on the bed, and began to
have sex with her. To rape her.
To rape me.
That was when I woke up.
I looked at the clock radio. It was almost 9 AM. I'd
slept through the night. My clothes were sticky, my
body felt... dirty. The room smelled of sweat and sex.
The sheet was wet, too, and it felt clammy against my
skin.
I got out of bed and stripped. The air conditioner's
breeze felt cool, and I felt goose bumps all over. I
decided to take a shower.
I had to turn down the force of the shower. It stung
my tender skin. Pete must have used it last. He always
let me shower first because it took me longer to
dress.
Unless we showered together.
I jerked my head, suddenly awake. Where has _that_
thought come from? I... Jaime ... _I_, dammit, always
let Rosa shower first for just that reason. I was just
confused. "Still sleepy," I whispered. I took a bar of
soap from the shelf in the corner and began to lather.
Especially my breasts. It felt so good, so very good
to run the soap across my slippery, wet skin, across
my tight, tender nipples. Then slowly, very slowly,
down my stomach -- stop at my navel, yes, yes, rub
there. I'm an "innie". I put in my pinkie and played
with it.
Then down, down, to my fur-covered slit. I drop the
soap; I don't need it. Just my hand, as fingers touch
the lips in welcome before they plunge in. In. And
out. And in and out again and again. One hand kneads
my breast, plucking at the nipple like a guitar, while
one finger of the other does the same to my clitty.
I fall back against the shower wall, screaming my
delight as the orgasm hits me. I sink down to the tile
as my talented fingers bring me to the peak of a
second one. I squeal and thrash as it hits me, not
caring as my hair is soaked and the make-up I forgot
to remove runs down my face.
Eventually, I stand up, turn off the water, and step
out. The towels are big and pinks and fluffy. I dry
myself carefully, not wanting to start things up again
with my body.
I went automatically to the drawer where I... where
Rosa kept her underthings. I picked a rather simple
white cotton bra and matching panties. I felt a bit --
was disappointed the word? -- as I stepped into such a
plain looking panty. It was the same when I put my
arms through the straps of the bra and reached behind
to do the hooks. As if it was a shame not to wear
prettier underclothes.
Why was I thinking such thoughts? And how had I been
able to put on the bra so easily?
Of course, it was easy. I had been wearing a bra for
years. I remember how happy I was the day Mama took me
to the store. My little titties were barely a AA-cup.
"You are a woman now, my Rosalita," she had said. "A
brassiere shows this to the world. Besides," she
added with a chuckle, "if you are like the rest of the
women in the family, you will _need_ to wear such
things soon enough."
I shivered. How had I remembered such a thing? That
was Rosa's past. The memory should have died with her.
I thought back to when Jaime was that age. I... he was
in the little league. I pictured his old team out on
the field. I, of course, was in the stands cheering --
no! He was... I was playing second base.
I remembered being on the team, being Jaime, but I
also remembered being in the stands, being Rosa. She
was rooting for us, for... I never knew that she had a
crush on my friend Rafi. Of course, I did. I... I gave
him my virginity a week after my quincannos party.
I whimpered. My memories as Jaime were still there,
but so were Rosa's memories. And hers were getting
stronger.
"Mama Luisa," I all but shouted the name. She was the
bruja who gave me the spell to trade souls. She would
know what was happening to me.
I threw on a t-shirt and jeans. Pulled on the jeans,
actually; Rosa liked to wear them tight, to show off
her body.
I was about to go out the door, when I happened to
glance in the mirror. No, I couldn't go out looking
like this, not for something so important.
I replaced the shirt with a bright yellow blouse with
a not too low neckline and puffy sleeves that stopped
a few inches above my wrist. With it, I wore a brown,
knee-length, pleated skirt. I skipped the stockings,
putting on bright yellow sandals with a on-inch heel.
Fine, now could I go?
No. I ran a brush through my hair. Lipstick and a
quick spray of perfume completed the look. At least,
they did when I added a pair of pearl earrings and
Rosa's bracelet watch. All the time I kept telling
myself I just wanted to pass, and all the time I knew
that it was Rosa's memories that were making me do
this.
* * * * *
Mama Luisa's Botanica was a small store on a quiet
side street in the old neighborhood. As I drove there,
the sights brought back other memories. When I passed
my old school, I remembered the pigtails I had worn
until I was teased by the boys for looking like such a
baby. That store was where Mama bought me that first
bra. I had my hair done at that beauty shop just last
week. Rafi kissed me in the balcony of that movie
theatre; he touched my breasts there, too, the first
time I let a boy be that intimate. Then I remembered
going there -- and making out -- with Jaime. I
remembered all the time we spent together, but I was
remembering it as Rosa lived it, not as Jaime had.
By the time I got to the Botanica, I had most of her
memories. Mine were fading away. I had to hurry before
they were gone.
The store was almost empty, just Mama Luisa wearing a
long, green dress, sitting in an overstuffed gray
chair drinking some tea. "I was wondering when you
would arrive," she said in a thick accent.
"You've got to help me, Mama Luisa," I pleaded.
"Rosa... the memories... your spell." I grabbed her by
the shoulders and began to cry.
She spoke in a voice that was almost a purr. "The
memories," she said, "and one last one to complete the
spell."
I closed my eyes. I saw her standing there in the
store. Her dress was blue and a different style. "You
say that he wants to kill me," I heard myself ask.
"He does, and I, I am sorry to say, have given him the
means to do so, and to escape any legal punishment."
"Then what can I do?" I... Rosa, it was her memory.
Mama Luisa handed me a thin silver necklace with a
small white porcelain rose. "You must wear this, wear
it at all times, even when you sleep. It will turn my
spell against him."
I took the necklace and put it on. One of Jaime's
memories came to me. She had been wearing it yesterday
when I broke into the store. My hand shot to my
throat. I was still wearing it. I tried to yank it
off, to open the clasp. It wouldn't budge.
Now I was remembering as Rosa. "How can I thank you,
Mama Luisa?"
The old bruja smiled. "Just do not be mad at me for
letting this happen. And do not worry. I will not
allow any real harm to come to the daughter of my
sister's daughter."
I felt dizzy. I trembled and closed my eyes. When I
opened them Jaime was gone. He had left my body
forever. "Thank you again, Mama Luisa."
My great aunt gave me a warm smile. "It is over,
then?"
"It is. Jaime is in whatever hell he deserves for what
he tried to do." I crossed myself. "And Pete, my
sweet, gentle Pete, rests a bit easier, I think."
* * * * *
Geraldine
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