Anthea s baby 1
- 1 year ago
- 329
- 0
The Overworlder free porn video
Overworlder
by ~Daguss
WARNING: Contains Racist Comments, mildly used, but still present. The
Author asks that you be patient and approach the story from a non-biased
stand point. No offense is intended to any party of differing ethnicity,
or sexual orientation. The view expressed in this story do NOT represent
the views of the author. Thank you.
*************************************************************************
The old man limped down the empty side walk, a long, ornate cane holding
his weight as he went out for a late night stroll. He was a tall skinny
man, with the features of one of African descent. His short hair was
grey, and he had a simple, trimmed mustache and goatee of the same color.
He dressed simply in a white cotten long sleeve button- up shirt, with
dark grey, almost black, cotten jacket and pants, with loafers. In fact
the only thing to indicate the slightest bit of extravegance was his
cane, which was black, and decorated with veins of jade. A solid silver
ball gripped firmly in his hand capped the cane. He often went out for
walks like these on the nights he grew bored. He never slept much, not
that he needed to sleep.
Those who knew him believed him to be a witch doctor, a powerfull worker
of Voodoo, descended from a family of witch doctors. But the truth was so
much bigger. Some would call him a god. But he was not that vain. He was
however, more powerfull than any that walked the mortal realm. That was
wear he preffered to be, able to interact with mortals in direct ways, to
actively shape destinies.
But he was called here tonight, as he so often is, to this town. It
smelled like destiny was off course. Of course, it wasn't a smell any
mortal could pick up on. Only the keen senses of one such as he, and any
higher powers could sense it.
An odd smile crept across his wrinkled face as he saw the lights
fluctuating in an alley ahead of him, fluctuations in auras. Anger, fear,
glee, pain...fading life. He walked over to the entrance and stared into
the alley way. Two burly white men stood over the forms of two, half
naked women, crumpled against the back wall. One woman was an african
american lady, with several stab wounds, most were fatal. The other
woman, a Japanese-American, was beaten and sobbing, probably for her
friend, who was not moving.
He saw clearly what happened. Two men, Aryian brotherhood, saw these
women, dragged them into the alley, beat them, raped them, one stabbed
one. Hate crimes...He studied the men, still busy with the women. Two
men, who should not have been born here...one that should not have been
born at all...He sighed, that strange smile still on his face. He stood
straight, lifting his cane, straight up, a few inches from the ground.
The veins of jade glowed brightly, and he slammed the butt on the hard
asphalt, and a resounding boom shook the ally, in a wave of green light.
No one else would have heard it...only these four.
The japanese woman's eyes lit up, a little with hope, mostly with fear,
as the two men turned to face the interuption. One, holding a bloody
knife, about to stab the woman. The looks on their faces turned from
shock, to an angry scowl. "Wha' 'ave we 'ere?" the one with the knife
asked, a thick british accent to his voice. "Anotha' nigga bloke? Wha'?
You think your' gonna be a 'ero?"
The skinnier one, holding the japanese woman started to laugh. "Carve him
up, James," he cackled in voice tinged ever so slightly with a southern
drawl. The one called James laughed and ran at the old man, knife out. He
strated to swing the knife, but the old man put up the butt of his cane,
and thrusted it into the center of James' chest. It was barely a tap, but
James found his momentum completely reversed, flying backwards. What
happened next seemed to happen in slow motion, and fast foreward, all at
once. As James flew backwards, the space rippled around him, bending, as
the fabrics of reality were undone, and restrung. Clothes flew from the
man and evaporated, as he too bent and shifted. In the blink of an eye,
what was a large British man flying through the air, was now a small,
lean, full figured black woman, landing, nude on the ground, with an
"OOFF." A light from a lamp over a door in the alley way confirmed this
to the startled James as he, now she, ran shaking hands over her new
body.
Large full breasts, wide hips, thin waist, large, round butt, Long, stiff
black hair, even that sweet spot between her legs. "No...No!" she cried
out in fear, looking at herself. "No..." Now the other man was looking on
in confusion. The old man pulled up his cane again and tapped him on the
chest. "Run home, mon. An' Don' stop until ya get d'ere!" He said to him,
in his own voice, tinted with the accent of one from the Carrabians. The
other man didn't nod, but sprinted from the alley, barely glancing at his
companion, who for her part, looked after him. "Don't leave me here!" she
called out in a new, higher pitched voice, all trace of an accent gone.
She started to get up, but the old man put his staff up and held her
down, pressing the butt against one of her breasts. The sensation was odd
enough that the new woman fell back to her butt again. "Wha chu and your
friend done 'ere tonight...dat was not a nice ting ta do..." the man
said, letting the words hang.
"What did you do to me, you monkey!" the woman said. The old man was
patient, despite the racial remark.
"You two...were not supposed ta be born 'ere. You, my friend, were not
supposed ta be born at all...but somtin 'appened...sometin changed...but
soon...all weel be returned to normal...even dese two weeman." The old
man explained. The James face grew fearfull.
"What are you gonna do to me? Why let Mark go?" she asked, panicking.
The man smiled that odd smile again. "Your friend Mark...he's not getting
off...justice will be served...but his desty will fall into place. I weel
not take your life, but dere is no place 'ere for you. You need a new
life..." The old man was thoughtfull for a moment, then smiled... "Ow'
ironic..." he chuckled and James began to change. She began to grow
smaller, and her skin thickened, than began sprouting thick black fur,
everywhere except her face, breasts and crotch. Her head began to change,
her ears elongating, and moving up the sides of her head, as her face
scrunched up, nose growing wider, and larger, mouth puckering out, eyes
becoming a deep amber color. Her long black hair receded into her head,
leaving the same short black fur that coated the rest of her body.
Her feet began to change, growing wider, toes elongating, big toes
seperating from the others, and moving to the sides, becoming more like
hands. Finally, a tail grew out of her lower spine, growing long, muscles
packed enough to hold her whole weight. Finally, she finished changing,
now, no taller than a toddler, with the features of a chimpanzee, except
for the tail, breasts and ears. The new monkey was rather shapely for an
animal, but not near as elegantly curved as she was before. The old man
smiled in satisfaction. "Monkey..." he repeated the words James had used
before. "Dat's what chu are now...a rather odd one...I tink I created a
new breed...However...it's very unlikely dat you'll find a mate..."
The monkey looked at herself in fear, not able to utter a word, but soon,
the fear vanished, along with any semblance of the intelligence she'd
held as a human, now, no more than a tamed pet monkey. The knife beside
her shifted and changed as well, becoming a beautiful ripe banana. She
noticed it and grunted as she grabbed it with her feet, unwrapping it,
and began to eat it, scratching her long ears with her right hand. She
watched the old man curiously as he knelt down infront of the scared
Japanese woman.
"Please...don't hurt me..." she sobbed. "We just wanted to get home." She
looked at her dead friend, and began sobbing in grief. The old man smiled
warmly at her.
"Don' worry..." he said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair out of
her bruised face. "You gonna wake up tomorrow tinkin' dis was all just a
crazy dream...Bot' of ya..." he said, indicating the black woman, with a
thumb over his shoulder. As he stood up, the woman began to shift, and
her partial nakedness was covered by the clothes that were previously
scattered across the alley way. Her bruises vanished and the semen inside
her did as well. He walked over to the black woman, face down and mostly
naked, and shook his head. He placed the staff on her back and the blood
on the street flowed backwards, towards the woman's wounds, as they began
to close up. When that was done, her clothes repaired themselves as well.
She began to stir, but the old man stepped back and as the japanese woman
watched, he raised his cane again, and slammed the butt onto the ground.
With a jade colored flash, both women were gone, alseep in their
respective beds, having made it home without any problems. The monkey
finished her banana and tossed the peel at a dumpster, missing, but still
landing on a pile of other trash. She didn't much care though, too caught
up in licking the last bits of sticky banana off her toes, then, certain
that they were clean jumped up and walked over to the old man, tugging on
his arm. He looked down and picked her up, letting her clamber up to his
back to wrap her arms and legs around his neck.
The old man laughed softly as he felt her lay her head on his shoulder,
and felt her breasts compressed against his back. "Anada' night set
right." he said, turning to the monkey's head. "Right Jade?" the monkey,
for her part, was too tired to care much. She closed her eyes and went to
sleep, as the Old man limped out of the alley way and continued his night
time stroll.
************************************************************************
Mark was still sprinting homeward, despite the fact that he lived 30
miles away. He didn't care. His pants were still wet and warm from seeing
what that guy had done to James. He didn't even look back, even though he
knew he was a good mile and a half away from that alley now...he was too
afraid. As if that old guy would appear out of no where and do the same
thing to him. It wasn't possible. It just wasn't possible for something
like that to happen. One second, James was running at the guy, the next,
flying through the air, the other way. He had barely had time to blink
before James had hit the ground as a naked Black woman. He might have
even thought she looked attractive, if he wasn't too freaked out to think
about it.
He should have felt lucky that he had been able to run from that alley
way. He should have felt lucky that he'd gotten away. But he
didn't...somehow, he had the feeling that he hadn't gotten away, that he
was still going to be punished. Ahead, he saw the sun rising, reflecting
off the buildings. He barely noticed as the scenerey shimmered around
him, changing into the scenery of a suburban setting, but to him, it was
familiar. He kept running, now, but his sprint slowed to a steady jog,
his breathing from sharp and eratic, to deep, and controlled. His
clothing began to shift around him. His steel toed, tan colored
constuction boots shrank and began to turn white, taking on the shape of
running shoes, his socks peaking out over the tops. His long baggy black
cargo pants tightened and began rising up his legs, the fabric changing,
becoming more elastic, as his white tank top began to shift as well.
Mark didn't even notice these changes, or the changes to his own body, as
he kept up his jog. His tattoes and scars faded, as his skin lost all
excess body hair, taking on a slightlly deeper hue. His short cropped
blonde hair began to get longer, and thicker, darkening to dirty blonde,
light brown, dark brown, and finally, to black. It fell down his neck and
and shoulders, reaching his shoulder blades before finally pulling up and
into a pony tail as a turquoise colored hair band appeared to hold it in
place. His body and clothes continued to change as he ran, seemingly
triggered by each step he took. Over all his stature slimmed out,
becoming more elegant. His arms and legs became more dainty, his hips
widened, his waist slimmed down, like his shoulders, but kept on going,
until he held a nce hourglass figure.
His pants, now rising over his knees, hugged his lower half tightly, now
made of lycra. His butt swelled and firmed up, creating a beatifull
figure from the waist down, at least from the back. The shorts hugged his
crotch tightly, accentuating the generous male anatomy, but as it shrank,
it seemed to push it in, making it smaller, and smaller, and smaller
still, until it vanished completely, replacing it with the female
genitalia. The lycra shorts stopped shrinking, showing off long gracefull
legs, tight gluts and a small camel toe in the front of the crotch. But
Mark Kept running, oblivious, even to the new swing of her wide hips.
His Tank top took on the elastic texture as well, as the straps shrank,
now no wider than spaghetti noodles, as the hem of the shirt crawled up
his chest. His nipples poked out through the fabric, growing wider and
longer, and darker, before mounds began expanding behind them. Soon a
beautifull pair of C cup breasts adorned her chest. Her shirt seemed to
shrink even more, and stopped rising just below her breasts, but
tightened, hugging her curves gracioulsy, leaving her abdomin exposed,
revealing a toned belly. The neck of the shirt shrank, leaving her upper
back exposed as well, while in the front, revealing the upper curves of
her breasts and a decent amount of cleavage. The shirt finished changing,
adding support to her full breasts, then changing colors, into a deep hot
pink hue. The wrist band she'd been wearing, was now an industrial
strength watch.
As mark raised her new dainty wrist to look at the watch, placing another
hand on her neck to measure her pulse, her face shifted, becoming an
image of Japanese beauty. She aged a few years, now a 35 year old
Japanese woman. As the sun reached over the horizon, she turned down a
street, waving at a young highschool boy, taking out the trash for the
morning. The boy blushed brightly as she ran past, muttering an
embarrased greeting. Mark, now Nyoko, forgot all about the old man and
the alley way, forgot all about her friend James, and slowed down to turn
into the drive way of a home labeled "Kyakoto Residence" in large
Japanese characters. She reached the door and stopped, bracing herself on
a post in the entry way, as she caught her breath, a thin coat of sweat
covering her body.
Another highschool boy walked up, from inside the house, holding a white
towel. "Here you go, mom." He said, speaking in Japanese. Of course, what
other language would he speak in Japan? Nyoko took the offered towel with
thanks and wiped her face and arms down, getting the sweat off of it.
"Are you off to school?" She asked her son, also in Japanese. The sixteen
year old nodded in confirmation. She smiled and rubbed his head, before
stooping down to take off her shoes before entering her house. She picked
her shoes up and walked through the door. "Does your dad have breakfast
ready?" She asked him, feeling rather hungry from her early morning jog.
Her son nodded again in confirmation. "Ok...have fun at school!" she
called after him, after he bolted from the yard towards his own school.
She turned around as another of her children started running through the
door. The ten year old girl had enough time to utter a quick "Good
morning, mommy!" before following after her brother, more than likely to
meet up with her friends further up the road.
"Hey, Hey!" she called after her kids, who didn't even seem to notice.
"Can't even talk to my kids any more..." she muttered ruefully, as she
set her shoes down inside her house, and heading into the dining room,
wear her husband was spoon feeding her youngest daughter her breakfast.
The two year old had food smeared all over her face. Her husband looked
up, and smiled. "Does this mean i can go back to sleep?" he asked,
hopefully. Nyoko smiled, and shook her head. He only chuckled.
"Let me get a shower first..." Nyoko went upstairs to get ready for her
daily duties as a house mom. Her husband had to work today, despite his
kidding. She peeled off her top, oce she got to their bedroom, and pulled
down her jogging shorts. She hated running with underear on...it always
pinched...She showered and took control of her youngest daughter, as her
husband went to get ready for work.
As far as she, and her family were concerned, she had always been who she
was, and no one by the name of Mark ever existed.
************************************************************************
Half a world away, and the next night, the Old Man walked away from the
alley way, a sleeping monkey on his back, his new familiar. He had many
names to those that had known him. Papa Joseph, Uncle James, Ben,
Walter...He really had no name to classify himself. No name that he was
given when he came into existance...He simply referred to himself as...
The Overworlder
Marisol
- 23.05.2022
- 13
- 0
