Altered Fates: Chimera, Pt.4 free porn video

Altered Fates: Chimera, Part 4 By Elliot Reid College saved my life. Getting away from the living hell of home and family eased the pressure inside me. Here, three hundred miles from my old life, I remade myself, reinvented myself, started over. Haltingly, I explained it to Jase. My secrets had been pent up inside since Simone died. As we sat in the park, everything I'd concealed came tumbling out in disconnected, jumbled fragments. Jase proved to be a patient listener. "I can't tell you how much I've needed to tell this to someone," I told him. "Since the funeral, it's been a nightmare!" "Are you sure you want to talk about this, Simone?" Jase lay back in the grass, anxiously watching me. A bee, its head zapped by the bright sunlight, drowsily drifted between us. In the distance I could hear the metallic dink of a softball game in progress. "I do, Jase. I REALLY have to let this spill out." I was lying on my stomach, breasts pressed like pillows into the grass, absently wrenching stalks out of the ground. Though I could see other couples around us, just out of earshot, Jase and I had a sort of privacy here. "Right now I'm a big molten mass of crazy. Sorry, you have to hear all of this or I'll explode." Jase gave a curt nod. He had the wasted, angular beauty of a poet with a lean, graceful figure, broad face and long, wavy hair. He reminded me of a photo I'd seen of a young Mick Jagger. He had that certain kind of style. I tried to compose my thoughts. In that last year of high school following the funeral, I'd been a mess of grief and guilt, a toxic brew seasoned by all the girl hormones going to town on my psyche. "I felt like I was carrying a weight so intense that I actually broke under it," I admitted. "In the blink of an eye I'd lose control and start screaming. I was acutely depressed. I felt isolated from my family, I mean my REAL folks." "How did they react to you?" asked Jase. "What, my old family or the new one?" "The new one. They believed you were their daughter. But they must have noticed a change." "Ah, it was fucked up. I mean, everyone was everso understanding, TOO understanding. They forgave my sharp tongue and the tantrums and assumed it was grief. If they detected any personality change, they probably told themselves it was the shock of my loss. Susannah tried to get me into therapy, but I flat refused." "Why?" "I was afraid I'd spill my guts to the therapist like I am to you," I winced at the thought. "They'd think I was crazy and start measuring me for one of those snug jackets that tie at the back." "I've never liked the cut of those," Jase's eyes twinkled. "They don't flatter your figure." "Heh. You know, the worst thing is that Susannah and Mike, my new parents, were so kind, so caring, that I began to hate them with a passion. I began to take it out on them." "You fought?" "We argued. I'd round on them at the slightest provocation. I became this asshole who took every opportunity to hurt them. Each time I hurt them they forgave me, which made it all worse." I stared into the distance. "Fuck their forgiveness. I don't deserve it. I should be punished." "What, for protecting them?" Jase eyed me keenly. "I hope I'm not out of line, but let's say you hadn't kept this secret, let's say you convinced them that you was a phony copy of their daughter. That would have destroyed them. Then two families would have suffered." I stared up at Jase, my face feeling taut and flushed. For a moment I felt angry. He was right, but at the same time he'd missed the point. This was not about what I did to Susannah and Mike, but about my karma. Simone had died and I had lived. My penance was to be trapped in this body. Jase noticed how quiet I'd suddenly become and deftly moved things on. "You mentioned school. How bad was that?" he asked. "Oh God, that last year of high school was a minefield. I became this witchy, vindictive figure in class. Soon I'd burned bridges with just about every one of Simone's friends. I disrespected so many people that all I can remember was them telling me how I'd become this complete bitch." I stopped to pull out a cigarette from my bag. Elbows propped on the grass, I lit it and look a long drag. Smoking had been another weapon in the war against my new parents. I knew it cut them deep. Now I was hooked on the nicotine hit and bummed cigarettes whenever I could. "Y'know," I continued, "This was the worst thing of all: pushing away people who could have helped me. I was pretending to be Simone but I just didn't understand how the women networked at school; how the relationships dovetailed together. My guy brain wasn't wired for it." "You might not have understood it," said Jase, "but you could see you were becoming detached from the web that bound your friends together." "Sure, I was increasingly isolated. Perversely, I was grateful for that. My grades got better." "That helped your grades, the loneliness?" "Yeah," I nodded. "I mean, they plummeted at first, then recovered. My GPA wasn't hurt too badly. I've always found classes easy. Maybe focusing on schoolwork helped dull some of the pain. Sure, some of my subjects shuffled around-I became better at English and worse at Math- but I did enough to graduate." "And here you are." "And here I am." "I wouldn't feel guilty, Simone," said Jase. He called me Simone, just like everyone else. I was used to it now. "Guilty about what?" "About Simone's death, I mean, the ORIGINAL Simone. There was nothing you could have done." "Sorry Jase, I'm not buying that." I said, sullenly. "I should have been on that bike, not her. If we hadn't swapped bodies she would have lived." * * * I met Jase in my second week at college. He approached me in the amber gloom of a private house party out in the suburb of Hamilton. A gang of us had gathered to get wasted on cheap beer and grouse about how much us hated the emo rock blasting out of the CD. I noticed this beautiful swivel-hipped man in a narrow-shouldered velvet jacket glide towards me out of the throng in the kitchen. I was not the best-looking girl there, but I'd already been hit on four times by guys getting frisky on illicit alcohol. As the stranger approached I braced myself for the fifth pick- up line of the evening. To my surprise he thrust a cold beer into my hand. "Thanks!" I shouted over the guitar cacophony. "What's your name?" "I'm Jase," said the stranger, yelling into my ear. "Don't worry, I'm not trying to hit on you." "You're the second guy to say that to me tonight, and he tried to grope me!" I called back. "So how can I believe you?" "Simple," said Jase. " I don't have a chance. You're hopelessly gay!" I laughed. "How can you be sure of that?" "Well, duh!" he replied, taking a long swig from his beer bottle. He looked around the lounge, which was lined with students all drinking and talking too loud. "I've been watching you for the past five minutes. You've checked out every woman here. My gaydar damn near melted!" I grinned. I'd never really been interested in guys, but Jase had some indefinable quality about him, something louche and charismatic that even I found sexy. "Your gaydar must be busted," I shouted back. And in one swift motion I pulled his head towards mine and kissed him. He didn't resist. He tasted of beer and red wine. I'm still not sure why I did that. Nor am I certain why I invited Jase back home. Something long-forgotten had come back to me. I had an almost physical need that I hadn't felt in a long while. I was feeling horny, and it wasn't the beer. At the same time my stomach was full of butterflies. I hadn't been with anyone since Simone. My sexual orientation was still firmly hetero. I imagined I'd eventually find a girlfriend at college. I hadn't expected to be attracted to a boy, let alone this rakish, slim man with his ravishing eyes. But Jase was not like any man I'd ever met. As we smuggled a bottle of red wine upstairs to my room, I could feel a weird chemistry between us. "What's this? Comic books?" Jase was checking out my cluttered bedroom, running his fingers along the spines on my bookshelf. "Ah, you've outed me as a nerdy fangirl!" I shrugged. "Hey, I'm not going to harsh your hobby." Jase pulled a Krazy Kat volume off the shelf. "I'd say that anyone with a collection of Jazz Age comics has admirable taste in the graphic arts!" I cocked my head as I held out an empty wine glass to Jase. "How come a hip clotheshorse like you has an interest in this stuff?" I said. "I thought you were all cool threads and alternative music." Jase pushed the book back in place and plucked the glass from my hand. "You penetrated my disguise, fangirl! I'm a secret geek. I'm fluent in all three dialects of nerd: Muso, Movie Buff and Comix." I found myself snorting out a giddy laugh. What was Jase doing to me? He was clearly attracted to me, but he was taking it slow. As I poured the cheap wine we'd stolen from the party he was happy just to relax into conversation about music, movies and books. While my housemates clattered about downstairs, I closed the door to my room and lit a couple of candles before dousing the lamp. I then tiptoed over to the bed, where I climbed on next to Jase, He'd taken off his jacket and was lounging across the bedspread. In the flickering shadow I could barely make out his face. The angle of his jawline was sharp and golden in the wan light. I pushed my body up against him and he responded by sitting up to embrace and kiss me. Our tongues touched and I could taste him again. I wanted him. I hadn't realized how much I needed the company and intimacy. I felt a heat begin to rise inside. Then nerves got the better of me. Before Jase could move off first base I had a sudden panic attack. Suddenly it all felt wrong. I'd remembered I was a man. "I'm really, really sorry!" I said to him as I broke our clinch and squirmed away from him. "This is all..." I ran out of words. "Don't be sorry," Jase said, softly. "I'm going too fast, aren't I?" He leaned back on the bed and the shadows fell away from his face. I could make out those dark eyes of his, fixed on mine. "No. It wasn't your fault!" My hands were crossed defensively. "I'm just a bit confused by this all. You were right, you know." "Right? About what?" "I was looking to hit on a chick at the party," I admitted, looking down at the bedspread. "I didn't reckon on meeting a man. It's like 'whoa!' This whole thing has knocked me off-balance!" My mind was racing. I couldn't believe how close I'd come to sleeping with Jase, and yet I still felt I needed him. "You must think this is like the ultimate male fantasy," I continued, trying to make light of the awkwardness. "Guy turns gay girl straight. Must be a huge turn-on." Jase paused. "Honest truth, I wasn't thinking about that," he said, eventually. "I was kinda concerned about you. You seem filled with sadness. I don't want you to feel pressured or anything." I stared at Jase for a moment, and then I did another thing I hadn't expected. I leaned on his shoulder and relaxed into his arms to let him cradle and rock me. I spent a long time there, without saying a word. * * * It was a week after we first met that Jase invited me to his tiny room off-campus. It was a grubby flop at the back of an old brownstone, but it was quiet and Jase's housemates gave him plenty of privacy. I appreciated that. Privacy was in short supply back at my houseshare, where the walls were paper thin and everyone knew everyone else's business. I'd received some waspish remarks about my 'popstar boyfriend' from the other girls. Lit only by the golden glow of some candles, the space of Jase's room was warm and intimate. We didn't waste time with words; we could talk any time. We were there for the sex. Sex. It was an unspoken thing, but we both knew what was going to happen. I'd made up my mind to sleep with Jase, and when we arranged our date over coffee in the week neither of us had any illusions as to what was going to happen. Something animal inside me demanded it. Sex. With a man. While Jase disappeared into the shower, I undid my skirt, dropped it and stepped out, then pulled my tight top off over my head. Unclipping my bra, I let it spring limp from my chest, then flung it down on the growing pile of clothes beside the bed. Dressed only in panties, I climbed onto the bedspread and contemplated my body. I was used to the shape now, but at the same time it still seemed foreign. It was curiously fleshy compared to my old male frame, with a padding of fat in odd places. It flexed in ways I found disconcerting. Sometimes I found myself hating it. I sat cross-legged on the bed, knees apart in a yoga position, feeling a twanging tension of muscles from butt to thighs to pussy, everything centering around my sex. My vagina was still an exotic instrument capable of intoxicating me with its many sensations. It sometimes took control of me. In my darkest hours I'd become addicted to it, playing with it and pleasuring myself whenever I became depressed. But for all my manipulation I could never quite reach orgasm. It was like I'd lost the power to climax. So I'd curse it for not giving me release, and then curse it again during my periods, when abdominal pain knocked me sideways and I felt bloated and heavy. I looked down to my bust. My boobs were also a mixed blessing. Simone- the ORIGINAL Simone-had played a joke on me with some breast pads that had made them swell and lactate. My breast milk soon dried up, thank God, shrinking my boobs back to a slightly more comfortable C-cup, but they still felt heavy and had permanently lost their perk. I enjoyed playing with them, but they were too big. I recalled the time I'd tried on the body of an Asian girl with firm, tiny titties that were so sensitive I couldn't keep my hands off them. I wished I could go back to that body. My current bosom got me a lot of attention but I was irritated because it kept getting in the way. My breasts often felt sweaty or itchy in embarrassing places. On bad days I kept having to readjust my bra, and wondered why the other girls I saw around me didn't do likewise. The weirdest thing since I had been trapped in this shape was learning how to walk again. Not learning how to put one foot in front of another, but how to maintain a comfortable posture. Posture hadn't come naturally in my new shape. My body was now wider in the hip and with a pelvis that was tilted further forward. For months I tried to carry myself like a man and nearly tore a muscle from the strain of trying to stride. So I had to train myself into a body that seemed to want to thrust my chassis ahead of the rest of me. Now I rolled slightly as I walked, my fanny describing figure-eight shapes. Now I was comfortable on the bed. I wouldn't have been limber enough to do this lotus position as a man. But with my lower center of gravity it seemed natural to hold myself in this poised position, eyes closed, feeling my chest rise and fall with my breathing. I heard Jase pad back into the room and climb on beside me. I felt his warm breath, then a kiss on the neck, and then his fingertips delicately begin to touch a breast and stroke at a nipple. It soon became clear that Jase was fascinated by my boobs. He couldn't stop playing with them. "I wish I had a pair," he whispered in my ear as his hands cupped and caressed my bosom. "I always wondered what they felt like." "You want to know my dark secret?" I said. "They are just fleshy lumps of fat that hurt when I run and I wish they were smaller. But I love it when my nipples are played with. They give me..." I gasped, "...a lot of pleasure." Jase was gently teasing around the rigid nubs of flesh. "You like that?" "Oh yes," I breathed. "It's like you are caressing a nerve. I feel something inside my breast, and it goes down into my toes and back up into my cootchie." Jase was now behind me, his arms embracing me, his hands deftly plucking at my teats. It made my body shiver with pleasure. I put one arm up and back to cradle his head, which was nuzzling at my neck, planting hot kisses there. I was surprised how much I liked that. In fact I was surprised how turned on I was by a man. Normally, only the sight of women made me feel hot. But I couldn't believe how attracted I was to Jase's wide smile and lean frame. My mind was in a muddle, but my body was focused. It wanted to be held and stroked. Jase right hand slid down from my boobs to explore my figure. It felt down the recurve of my waist and hip before gliding across the swell of my belly. I was very self-conscious about this part of my body. I had a trim waist but was a little plump around the ass and thighs. However, Jase's skin was still warm from the shower and as he investigated my flanks I just lay back into him, absorbing his heat. But I wasn't relaxed. I was experiencing a strange tension, desiring more of this man's exploration. When his hand began to brush against my inner thighs I let out a shuddering breath. My mind reeled. The world suddenly slipped sideways as an avalanche of emotion become to overwhelm me. Time telescoped. For a long, long moment I couldn't move. My consciousness seemed to expand, encompassing sensations and emotions that had been dead for a year. Then there was a rush, and with it came a moment of crystal clarity. I was suddenly aware how much I'd been denying the feminine part of me. For much of the past year I'd felt like I'd been wearing someone else's skin. I was an imposter-a man in a girl suit. But now my senses were unlocked. It was almost as if I could look inside of me and see a woman there. Not some echo of my body's original owner, but myself. The shock of recognition was almost palpable. I was not a fake female, just simply a woman. Time restored itself and I regained control of my body. My lips moved. "Touch me, please!" I gasped, and opened my legs wider. Jase didn't hesitate and in one deft move his fingers slid inside my panties. They probed my vagina and sank softly inside. I could feel myself parted, opened up. There was the briefest of hesitation, and then Jase's fingertips homed in on my clitoris, swimming to the small nub of nerves before brushing them. For a second time the clock seemed to halt, as Jase's fingers slip- slipped at my sex. It's hard to describe the sensation that came as he worked away at the little pink button of flesh. It began as a gentle, rising buzz that spread outward, up through my loins to my spine and to my head, and down to the soles of my feet. It created hallucinations in my head and for a moment I believed I could feel the insides of my body. My womb seemed like a tiny, cupped space, embraced by the wide girdle of my pelvis. My ovaries seemed to bubble with life, and I could even feel the prickle of the milk ducts behind my nipples. And with these trippy, unreal sensations I could feel an emotion, I could feel love. It was something I hadn't felt for a long while-a love for myself. And there was something new with it-a love of the woman that I had become. I became lost in these emotions, as Jase gently pleasured me. I could feel his fingers dart into me to touch new, deeper spots. I became tremendously wet and my body was shrouded in the smell of my sex. And though I wanted to say something to my lover, all I could do is gasp and groan as a great weight began to build, a psychic pressure that held me down. I needed a release so desperately. Something inside me wanted to collapse and cave in to the emotion. To be obliterated by it. But when it came it wasn't an annihilation. I didn't crack. Instead I grasped the pressure and embraced it. Absorbed it. Made it part of me. This was not a crashing orgasm, but something deeper, more wonderful. It was as if all the pain and hurt of the past year just drained away and I was left with something else. Something blissful. Words didn't begin to describe it. For the first time in a year I felt at peace. * * * It had been a long night of lovemaking. Jase had been the most gentle lover, bringing me to climax with his hands, and then again when he entered me. After this we were both spent and lay panting on the bedspread. I dozed off for a while, and when I opened my eyes again, harsh strips of morning light had penetrated the gaps in the blinds to cast zebra stripes across Jase's sleeping body. The room was tiny, the wide bed was pushed up against the wall, and as I looked over my lover's outlined shoulder I noticed, for the first time, something taped to the wallpaper. It was a drawing, or an Nth-generation Xerox copy of one, all spotted and flecked with toner. It was an illustration of a coin or medal with the faint trace of a winged figure on it, like an angel. I felt a cold chill wash over me. I gripped Jase's arm and shook him awake. "Where did you get that from?" I breathed, half in shock. "Get what from?" Jase replied breathily. He blinked in the light. "That drawing, the one of the Medallion of Zulo?" I was now pointing at the picture, shaking in disbelief. Now it was Jase's turn to gape. "What do you know about the Medallion?" His eyes locked with mine and a zap of horrified recognition passed between us. We both knew. We were both victims of Zulo. * * * We did a lot of talking over the course of the weekend, in a marathon fuelled by drink and cigarettes. Jase told me his story first. It had begun when he was a little girl named Melissa and he'd found the Medallion half-buried in a field. "Once we discovered how it worked my brother Jase and I spent that whole summer vacation playing with the Medallion. We'd swap bodies to fool our friends and family. I played at being a boy and he pretended to be a girl. When you're that age-I was eight and a half and he was seven-it's one big jape. We didn't consider the consequences. Then, when the Medallion went missing, we found we were stuck. I went on being Jase and he became Mel. "Didn't you tell your families?" "Tell them what?" Jase grimaced. "We were both scared. We thought no-one would believe us, and even if they did our dad would give us a whupping. After a while we just settled into our new roles. God knows how we kept it secret, but we did." He took a long drag on his cigarette. "So we grew up on different paths. It seemed traumatic at the time but I suppose in retrospect it was less of a shock than you must have experienced. After all, an eight year-old is not interested in sex. My brother and I got to grow up and go through puberty like normal teens. We became sexual in bodies that now seemed natural to us. Jase shifted position on the bed so that he could get a better look at me. "You know, Simone, I barely remember being a girl. That said, I fantasize about it sometimes. I wonder what it would have been like to grow into a woman." "That explains a lot about you," I said. "You're not a femme type, but your retained more of your femininity than you think. Especially your gentleness and consideration." "I don't know if that's femininity. That's just common decency," said Jase, earnestly. "Maybe," I said, "but you make a far better woman than I do." I let that hang for a moment, then changed the subject. "Where did you find that picture of the Medallion?" I nodded at the photocopy on the wall. "Oh, it was in this pamphlet someone wrote in the '70s. I found it in a hippy head shop that sold bongs and incense. It was sitting alongside all these cheaply printed booklets on conspiracy theories. It read like some nutjob obsessing about magic and the Illuminated brethren who made it and other such nonsense. Only I knew it was for real." "People spend their whole lives looking for it, you know," I said. "Yeah, but few of them find it." Jase made a rueful face. "You know what I think? I think it's some kind of manifestation of cosmic karma. It comes to people who deserve it. It punishes some people and is a gift to others." Too late, Jase realized what he'd said. "No, I mean..." But I cut in before he could finish. "Question is," I said, "have I been punished or given a gift?" Eventually we went outside to catch some fresh air, grab a coffee and breakfast and continue the conversation. This was how we ended up in Filton Park, listening to the distant plink of the softball game as I poured out my soul to Jase. Jase was keen to stop me dwelling on Simone's death. He was curious about life as a woman and wanted to find out how I lived with the changes. "How did you adapt, socially?" Jase asked me. "I mean, now that you were stuck as a female? How did you relate to other men and women?" "Oh, you wouldn't believe the bullshit you have to go through as a woman." The memory of dozens of petty humiliations washed over me. "You can't begin to comprehend it. It's another world. I mean, you must remember some of it from being a girl." "I remember certain kinds of conditioning, yes," said Jase. "I recall attitudes about sugar and spice. I remember my 'princess' phase. I know I was expected to play very different games from the boys; all dollies and dressup and nurturing behavior. But I also remember running around playing soccer and getting into fights. I'm not sure boys and girls of that age are that far apart." "Oh, the bull quotient multiplies when you become a grown woman," I said, ruefully. "You really notice it, you know. You can't miss the fact that you're a second-class citizen." "Really? That bad?" "Yeah. All that stuff that feminists go on about is for real. I don't mean just that you become objectified, though you do. Men can't take their eyes off your tits or your ass. No, I mean the whole deal where you are supposed to submit to men." "How does that work? I don't see you as the submissive type." "Oh, it's not like knuckling under like some docile 1950s stereotype. It's a much more subtle thing than that. Most guys can't handle assertive women. Even the men you think are pretty liberal. They get defensive. They talk over you. They expect you to shut the fuck up when they are talking. And I see so many women who have taken so much of this shit that they lose the will to live and just go along with it. They take the path of least resistance. I haven't yet, mainly because I'm still a guy at heart. I stand up for myself. But it's exhausting. You have to fight your corner all the fucking time just to get heard." "I thought that was just a few guys, the assholes who did that." "No, it's most men, believe me! Present company excepted." I took a deep breath. "I mean the jocks just want to turn you into a lay, but there's something honest about that. It's all the others. The ones who paint themselves as 'nice guys'." "I take it they are not nice." "You got it. Nice guys come in all shapes and sizes but the worst ones appear to be sensitive types. Nerds and other social misfits. The reality is that they are all passive-aggression. I mean, these are the guys who tell you that they are not like those other assholes, they won't treat you like some ass-grabbing jock. They tell you that they respect women, they want to put us on a pedestal. The alarm bells should be ringing at that point, because most women probably don't want to be put on a pedestal. They just want to be treated like ordinary human beings." I took another draft of my cigarette. "They earnestly think they are being decent to women and yet they don't see what they are doing," I said. "The lack of self-awareness is incredible! Now, I used to be a guy and a nerd so I like to hang with these folks; they're MY crowd. And as I'm not completely fugly they keep asking to date me. But when I say no- and I always make it a gentle rejection-they go bugfuck crazy! Next thing I hear they are badmouthing me as a bitch. And then you realize is that they have the SAME sense of entitlement as the jocks, only they don't realize it. They believe they DESERVE to sleep with me, and that they can't understand why I'd refuse them, because they are being so 'nice'." "Wow, that's fucked up," said Jase. "I heard a similar thing from Mel. Because she grew up as a girl she found it natural to date guys. But because she is very tomboyish she feels she's always fighting battles with men. That's what drove her to date women. She's a big noise in LGBT circles at her college." "To tell the truth, Jase," I went on, "I was no better myself when I was a man. You should have seen how I tried to wheedle Simone into the sack with a combination of ass-grabbing and emotional blackmail. It was not my finest hour. If I'd been Simone I would have walked." "But now you ARE Simone." Jase winked. "Oh, the irony!" I laughed, and tried to change the subject. "No, but seriously. What happened last night, it was the first time like I'd felt like a woman since I first changed into one. I have to thank you for that." "You're welcome," he said, with a puzzled look. "I'm not sure what I am any more," I went on. "I used to be a guy in a girl's body, but I don't know if that's true now. I'm some kind of chimera. Half of each." "A third sex?" said Jase, thoughtfully. "Yeah. Not woman, nor man, but a third sex," I agreed. "And you are a chimera too. Maybe that's why we were drawn to each other." "That, or cosmic karma," Jase smiled.