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The New Girl - The Story Of The Butterfly Light Transformation - Part 3 free porn video
The New Girl - A Documentary of the Butterfly Light
Part 3
A seasoned journalist, Mike traveled the world in search of compelling
stories. It was his last one, however, deep in the hilly jungle of
Southeast Asia, which would change his life back in Manhattan forever.
With flagging self-awareness, Mike does his best to document his erotic
transformation from man to woman and his final emergence in the 'butterfly
light.'
It was early on the sunny, bright morning of the sixth day that she turned
on her computer again.
"I'm fine," she wrote Jim. "I'm sorry. I'm ok."
He was incredibly relieved. He told her of the responses, of thoughts and
messages, of all the new people in her audience. How worried everyone
was.
"I have a check for you," he said. "Can I see you?"
It was the way he asked that. He was genuinely tender and concerned, but
not pushing, so gentle. "There is no one in my life, any human being, who
I can just sit with and talk with," she thought. There was zero thought
of romance or sex or male and female. She just wanted a friend. She
didn't even think about that last, special episode. She didn't think
about the effect that he may've had on Jim.
. . . . .
Her thoughts weren't consciously about romance or even sex. That part was
true, the 'conscious' part. She felt busy getting her place ready. But
she was nervous, anxious really. She smoked a lot. If she hadn't been so
distracted by his imminent arrival, she would have masturbated.
The ancient Mong transformation had evolved over centuries and no one
knows where, or how, it began. But when it was completed - when the
female had passed beyond the 'butterfly light' phase -- there was a
harmonic fusion between mind and body. It didn't erase any previous
memories - transformed Mong men and women knew who and where they'd been
before. In fact, that part of them would always be with them.
It was a mystical rite. But a chemist would've had a field day analyzing
the concoctions that the matriarch administered in that hut of hers.
There were chemical compounds unknown to modern science. But there was
one final compound that was required by this new body, one that was
relatively common. It was an organic element comprised of certain
molecules of carbon and basic sugars. It happened to be found in semen
and her body needed that final catalyst.
When you need water, you get thirsty. When your body needs a chemical
formula found in semen, it really doesn't have a direct way to get that
across to the brain. In a convoluted way, females do end up ultimately
attracted to semen. It's part of their primal urge to reproduce. Females
are drawn to strength, scent plays a role, erect penis' arouse them,
ovalution makes them more sensitive -- there is a whole array of basic
human characteristics that make females reproduce. But it's not directly
a desire for semen.
In spite of the level of her female enlightenment, TNG was not so attuned
yet to making that subtle connection from arousal to men. Her body did
what it could to alert her. But she only felt anxious.
. . . . .
She was excited just to have a visitor. She bought wine, some beer, cheese
and crackers. She checked to make sure she had ice, she vacuumed and
cleaned. She wore white jeans, a coral cotton top, she put on her
bracelets. Underneath she wore a white bra and white panties. She tied
her hair back in a ponytail. Then she undid it. She decided to change.
She was nervous. She had plenty of reasons to justify that. She'd been
such a hermit. She changed to a simple summer dress.
Neither of them had any intentions beyond finally seeing a dear friend
after having shared so much. In fact, she turned on her camera. There
was nothing to hide. She'd tell him it was on once he arrived. The
audience saw her light a cigarette and check her hair once more in the
mirror. They heard the ring of her doorball.
Their hug was the spontaneous reaction of two cherished friends. They saw
her reach up on her tiptoes and put her arms around him. They saw him
hold her for a moment...a moment that lingered just the moment of friends.
She'd expected her "friend Jim." She hadn't expected this man, nor the
feel of shoulders, the musk of his body. She hadn't expected to feel the
strength of his arms holding her to him.
They both tried to ignore it. She sat down at the end of the couch and
began chatting a little nervously. The she sprang up.
"Oh. Can I get you something Jim?. I'm having wine," she said as she went
to the kitchen.
She felt her heart beating and gulped at a glass of water and ran a little
over her face.
From the other room, Jim asked something about how she was doing.
She brought in the drinks and he could sense her anxiety. The whole issue
of the 'transformation' was looming like that 1000 pound elephant in the
room, even as both them struggled to reconcile what they were feeling.
"I'm doing fine," she said, passing him his drink. "I'm...uh..." She lit
up a cigarette, trying to concentrate. Unable to think beyond the fact
that there was this man, here, in her apartment, and the reaction in her
body, and the connection to his presence and desire, and sex, sex the way
she has sex now, sex the way she wants it now. Her self-perception, and
lust, and awareness were never so strong, never so female. Never before
had all that converged in such a powerful way. Never before had she felt
her former self to be such a vague, helpless observer to all she was
feeling.
"...I am doing fine. I think. I'm adjusting," she said.
Her intensity was palpable. Like the intensity he'd seen in her before.
The way she masturbated, things she said. His memory knew who she'd been.
But his mind, his heart, his eyes saw who she was. Those delicate
fingers...how she nervously curled her long hair behind her ears.
Everything so perfect, so new. That cleavage, that face, that voice.
Images of her vulva, that wet hungry pussy, how she'd penetrated herself
lustily, how she cried and moaned - it all flashed in his mind, making him
hard, erect, now, as he sat so close near her.
Her body wanted semen. It created a deep, primal feeling that kept her
from thinking...clearly.
She suddenly noticed the tent of his pants, his unmistakable erection.
And she touched him. Drawn toward him, she leaned forward, her hands on
his thighs, searching his face, revealing the pain of her lust in her
eyes.
Mike was a presence in his mind when he had arrived. When he had knocked
on the door though, he could envision "The New Girl" and it was as though
Mike, her former male self, was her brother, or a cousin - just some
entirely different person, altogether so different from this woman he was
visiting.
When she had had hugged him, it had been everything he could do to not let
her go, to not let himself wrap his arms around her. He'd watched her
walk to the kitchen, her round, full ass; he'd seen the wisps of smoke as
they seeped out from her inside her as she spoke, he heard her voice but
not her words. He smelled the freshness from her hair and the light
floral scent of a perfume.
But now, with those small hands with their painted nails, resting on his
thighs, her body leaning so closely....the pink-lipsticked lips...that
view down her cleavage to the round insides of her breasts...that look,
that pleading look in her soft brown
eyes...he...was...overcome...by...her.
His hands took her face and pulled his lips to hers. Their kiss was
electric, bringing a surging current of energy between them. It was a
hungry, tasting kiss. He held her head, devouring her. His hands went to
her sides, to her breasts, he licked at her, he pulled her against him,
his face buried in the crux of her neck, in her hair, and kissed again,
breathing her into him.
. . . . .
She remembered that kiss of course. She remembered how all at once she
felt nothing and everything. But she didn't really recall exactly how it
all transpired after that. It was only later, after he'd left, when she
watched the video that she had seen everything that the audience had seen
that afternoon.
In the video she saw how her hands had come to press against his hardness
as he had kissed her. She saw him bring her to her feet, with his mouth
locked on hers. He'd backed her awkwardly against the wall while
unfastening his cock from the confines of his trousers. Weak kneed and
wobbly, she held his shoulders, gulping kisses, moaning. The camera angle
caught the urgency of his cock, standing nearly vertical for a moment.
She saw how his arm wrapped under one of her legs, she saw the wet crotch
of her panties and the way they creased inside her slit. He ground
himself against her, pulling down to the top of her dress and her bra
until one of her breasts flopped out for his hungry mouth.
His other hand was obscured by his body as it reached down to pull her
panties aside. He took a half step back, exposing her messy vulva. Then,
with animal grace, he stepped forward driving his flaming cock inside her.
She remembered only the feeling of the exquisite heat and pressure of that
moment. Watching now, she appeared to be almost unconscious, her eyes
closed, her head lolling back and forth. He had lifted her from her
buttocks as his pants slid down and thrust himself as deep as he could go.
She had no recollection of him thrusting, grinding.
It was only when she watched that video that she realized he had come
inside her then. She could tell the way his buttocks clinched as he held
her tightly against him and let out that primal moan. A second or two
later, he carried her over to the couch and layed her down. You could see
him kneeling next to her, removing the tangled dress and bra. When her
legs flopped open, everyone could see her vagina, aroused and open. If
you noticed, you could just discern the white trail of his semen seeping
out. If you only knew, you'd know that that was the final enlightment of
her "butterfly light."
Although she hadn't been aware of that first ejaculation, she knew that
he'd cum inside her several times after that. Minutes later, as he'd
continued to kneel there, tracing her body, caressing kissing, she'd
softly opened her eyes and then gently held his head against her breasts.
She remembered all that. She remembered how perfect that felt, how
perfect she felt. She remembered the weight of him as climbed atop her
and how delicious it felt to kiss him. She remembered how his dick had
hardened, lengthwise, between them. She'd lifted his face up to look at
him, to confirm she wasn't dreaming, to silently thank him for the
overwhelming beauty of that moment.
He entered her that second time purposefully and slowly, examining her
face. Propped up slightly on his elbows, his hairy chest against her
bosom, he watched her reaction as the head of his cock slipped just inside
the tautness of her opening.
She remembered that. She remembered how expansive that moment had been --
that realization that this new feeling would always be hers. She rembered
tenderly holding him as the exquisite pleasure mounted as he slowly,
slowly filled her. With his cock fully inside her, they'd watched each
other's eyes, both of them physically unmoving.
But it was her this time who began to buck. His cock seemed to become such
an amorphous presence of soft heat, until she moved an inch. He kept it
frozen there like a rock. She moved again. And again. She wrapped her
legs around him, clinging to him, as her pelvis rocked back and forth. He
raised his hips up and she stayed fixed to him, moving him inside her with
increasing urgency. Finally, he lowered himself back down on her as they
fucked madly in unison. That was the first time she thought that he had
exploded inside her.
When they moved into her bedroom, there were several hours of video of
just that empty room. It was early morning when they reappeared. He was
dressed. She was naked as she stood on tiptoes to kiss him goodbye. The
audience couldn't hear her whispered 'thank you' into his ear.
When the door closed, she stood there, alone, a brand new woman. She took
a cigarette, from the pack on the coffee table. The audience watched as
she lit it and took a series of drags. When she lifted her head and blew
a thick cloud into the room, they saw her first recognition of the camera
with its glowing red light.
No longer alone yet 100 percent woman, she sat down, unabashedly naked,
until she finished her cigarette. Then she spoke. Looking up at the
camera, with her large breasts, noticeablly reddened and tender from their
sex, she said: "I'm really not sure what to say. I don't know I can say
other than I feel that I've just gone through an incredible,
enlightening....transformation."
"I'll come back. Later and try to explain."
Finally, she clicked off the camera. It was long after her shower, after
she'd dressed and eaten, after she'd seen the video of his entrance that
previous day, after she'd seen what they'd done, what she'd felt, that she
finally sat down and confessed into her camera:
"I want more."
. . . . .
Behind the closed door of his office, Jim saw her last submission. He
also saw the previous video, the one with him.
It was the one with him, the one where he had so clearly fucked her living
brains out, that stressed him out. He wasn't sure who their subscribers
were but he'd quietly promoted the site to some of his co-workers and
other acquaintances, pretending that he'd only discovered the website with
the bizarre, beautiful woman called The New Girl.
He'd shown up at work early, slipping into his office, feeling transformed
himself by the tumultuous experience of having fucked the most erotic
woman in his life - a woman who used to be a man. He'd stepped out for
coffee and saw the voicemail light on his phone when he'd returned.
It was one his reporters. "Holy Shit Jim! I can't believe that was you!
How do you know her??!! You were unbelievable you fucking stud. That
woman is incredible! Call me, call me, call me."
Jim turned white and immediately went to the site. Why did she do that?
He watched the video. He saw her puttering around, preparing for his
visit. He saw them hug when she opened the door. He saw himself holding
her against the wall, humping her helplessly. He shut it off and took a
deep breath. That could be a big problem. A huge fucking problem.
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