Carrington Mansion Ch 01
- 2 years ago
- 37
- 0
Ring Of Reality free porn video
Simon found the ring in a storm drain, half buried under decomposing
leaves, discolored cigarette butts, and disintegrating paper bags and
cups and other trash. He was waiting for the train to take him home
after a long afternoon of accomplishing very little and the ring's
glint caught his eye as he disinterestedly surveyed the gutters. He
picked it out of the foul, rotten mess without a thought and slipped it
into his pants pocket. The light winter rain washed the brown filth
away from his fingers without need for any effort on his part.
Simon was far too lost in his own mind to remember the event even
fifteen minutes later and so it came as a small surprise when, seated
comfortably on the train, he placed his hand into his pocket and
happened to stick his middle finger right through the ring. He pulled
his hand quickly out of his pocket and surveyed the silver band that
now rested uncomfortably just below the bottom of his fingernail.
It was dingy silver and covered with deep crevices that marred its
otherwise rounded form. It was the color of an old nickel and of
dubious value. Simon, still deeply preoccupied by his own doubts and
worries, rather carelessly pushed it downward so that it came to rest
at the bottom of his finger. He twisted it quietly, rotating it in
circles, as his mind dwelled on the paper he had yet to begin
researching. He tapped it lightly with his thumb as he contemplated
where he might find $800 for his bar application. He rolled his hand
into a fist as he wondered if his last girlfriend had found a new man
yet and by the time he cupped his right hand over his left he had
decided she probably had. He folded his fingers together and cracked
his knuckles and thought about the impossible job market and the
foolishness of taking out a hundred thousand dollars in student loans
to get a graduate degree in a saturated, stagnated industry.
All these thoughts and many more filled his brain and crushed his
senses. Loneliness, doubt, fear, and rejection can make a powerful
local anesthetic. This might explain why he failed to notice the dim
lighting on the train brighten when he casually noted that the winter
evening was oppressively dreary. He considered his cold toes
momentarily, wishing he had worn boots, but his thoughts darted quickly
to another topic as his shoes and socks nearly instantaneously became
dry. Lost in personal misery he rubbed his nose and sneezed, wishing
his nose would stop running, but when it did the miracle hardly
registered.
Simon glanced around. With him in the car were three passengers. A
tall bearded man with graying hair was positioned across the aisle from
him, his face deeply lined and cratered with large pores. His legs
were spread wide and sloppily out into the aisle as he scratched his
chest absent mindedly. Two seats to the man's left sat a younger man
wearing a solid gray suit. He had short cropped hair and talked
cheerfully into a cell phone. He was speaking loudly enough to catch
scraps of his conversation, although his deep voice was mostly washed
away by the rattle and hum of the train. Finally, to Simon's right on
the other side of doors was an overweight middle-aged woman with copper
colored hair that was cheaply curled so as to appear thin and plastic.
She carried with her a large canvas bag and glared quietly at the
floor. The train jolted, coming quickly to a stop. A hydraulic hiss
filled the car as the doors slid open. Nobody moved. Simon turned his
eyes toward the window, staring out into the dusky evening rain.
"I wish there were women worth looking at in here," Simon muttered.
"Some eye candy to take my mind off of bullshit." He heard the doors
close and felt the train jolt back into motion. He hated wasting
thirty minutes riding home; surrounded by people he would never talk
to. He looked back towards his fellow travelers and was surprised by
the change. He had thought he was stuck with the previous company but
clearly they had disboarded while he looked away, because he now shared
the car with three far more visually appealing passengers. Sitting in
the seat where the old man had been was a teenaged girl. She had long,
blonde hair and perfect make-up which made the skin on her face look
perfect and unblemished. Her generous chest was compressed into a
tight sweater and she exuded a perfect feminine beauty despite sitting
in a decidedly unladylike manner. Indeed, as he glanced at her, she
pulled her legs back and crossed them, taking a more careful and
guarded posture. She absent mindedly scratched at the bottom of her
left breast, then quickly returned her hands to her lap.
Two seats down sat a professionally dressed woman in a tight gray skirt
and matching jacket. Her slim, athletic legs were encased in dark,
translucent stockings that worked their way down to a pair of dainty
feet. She had short, bobbed brown hair and talked loudly into her
telephone. Her voice carried well over clatter of the moving train.
"Anyway, after a week like this I just want to get drunk and laid,
that's it!" Her eyes momentarily shot wide open, as if she realized
what she had just advertised to the rest of the train, and so she
cupped the phone with her free hand and began talking more quietly.
Simon glanced to his right. The older woman must have disembarked as
well, he thought, because in her place was a younger, thinner woman,
probably in her early twenties, with long, straight copper hair that
had an alluring thickness. She turned her head and caught Simon's
gaze, then frowned. "What are you looking at, asshole," she demanded,
then exhaled deeply. "Not you," Simon answered, and turned his head
back towards the blonde.
The train pulled into the next stop and both the blonde and the redhead
exited the train, leaving Simon alone with the lady on her cell-phone.
He briefly pondered why they would buy a ticket to ride only one stop.
Either way, the redhead exited the train through the doors opposite the
side she was sitting on, allowing Simon to watch her hips sway and ass
twitch as she made her way out of the car. Unfortunately, while her
smart, gray slacks were tight around her rear, they didn't do much to
show off her legs. Too bad she's such a bitch, he thought. With a
body like that I wish she was more willing to show it off and share it.
As the train slid away from the station he looked back towards the
brunette on the cell phone.
She had great legs and an athletic figure, but her chest left a lot to
be desired. Simon glanced away, not wanting to be caught ogling again,
and found himself wishing she had larger breasts. He smiled, realizing
that the girls had done just what he had wanted and taken his mind off
of his troubles for a while. He glanced back to the woman on the
phone, hoping to refresh his mental image, and found himself wondering
why he had thought her tits were too small. They were quite large,
stuffed smartly into her sharp business jacket and contrasting
beautifully with her streamlined figure. She turned her head and
caught his glance, stopping her telephone conversation mid-sentence and
starting to frown. Simon steadied himself for the rebuff, wishing a
woman like that could be into him, even if only for a weekend.
To his surprise her frown turned into a smile. "Hey, Jenny," she said
into her telephone. "I need to let you go. I think I found what I
need to take my mind off of this awful week." She pulled her phone
away from her ear and asked Simon "What's your name, handsome?"
***
Simon sat quietly in the lecture room waiting for his Monday morning
class to begin. He hadn't done the reading. His weekend had been far
too busy for schoolwork. He thought back to meeting Katie on the
train, admiring her beautiful body, never expecting he'd have the
opportunity to spend three nights and two days up close and personal
with it. He had been a little surprised that morning when he woke up
and discovered that she'd left without a word or a note. He hadn't
even gotten a phone number from her. Still, easy come, easy go, he
thought, although he found himself wishing that if she was just going
to walk out on him like that and if he was never going to see her
again, then something should happen to make her think of him from time
to time, at least, like he was sure he'd think of her. "I wish I'd
knocked her one of those times we went at it," he thought. It seemed
appropriate, in a way.
He watched the classroom fill up, slowly. It was late in the semester
and burnout was endemic. He wondered what had made the registrar
schedule Wills and Estates for Monday mornings at ten am. In the front
row of the class sat Jenna, William, and Sarah. Jenna and Sarah were
unbelievably hot, but also complete bitches, and William was a rich,
privileged asshole. They were deeply conservative and religious, often
taking positions in class discussions or in other campus settings which
Simon found abhorrent.
He remembered back to his first year constitutional law course, when
the three had been the only students in the classroom willing to argue
that Lawrence v Texas had been wrongly decided. William had quite
loudly stated, "Scalia is right, the entire court just wholesale
supports the homosexual agenda."
"Not just the court," added Jenna, "no, our entire government is being
taken over by the homosexual lobby."
Sarah had interjected the most insipid argument of all. "I might even
add that while Lawrence just stops the states from criminalizing gay
sex, the way the gays are infiltrating it might soon be allowed to ban
straight, traditional families!"
The professor had quickly shushed the three, pointing out that Sarah's
assertion lacked any tie to reality and was unsupported by logic.
Still, their position was clear.
Simon found himself thinking of how unfortunate it was that the three
of them would go on to positions of influence and power, able to spread
their bigotry and short-sightedness. Man, I wish Jenna and Sarah would
fall deeply in love, no, not just love, lust too, with each other and I
wish that William would suddenly become totally, undeniably gay. There
was a shuffling in the front row, as William and Sarah switched seats.
Simon watched, amazed, as Jenna and Sarah, now seated beside each
other, linked hands and smiled at each other.
Simon's attention was torn from the trio as Professor Adams entered the
room and the noise quickly died. Preparing for the lecture he quickly
opened the word file where he typed his notes and opened his textbook
to the assigned reading. Professor Adams quickly took his spot behind
the lectern and cleared his throat. He then addressed the class.
"Before we start today I think Jenna has asked to make an
announcement." He paused as Jenna stood and turned to the classroom.
"Hey, everyone," she said, her voice light and her smile wide. "I'd
like everyone to know we're having the last meeting of the Gay-Lesbian-
Transgender Alliance this afternoon at two and I think everyone should
come."
Simon nearly choked as he surveyed the room. He expected the entire
room to be shocked and surprised. Jenna's bigotry was well known. She
was proud and vocal. And yet, somehow, nobody seemed to find her
announcement unusual. Half the class wasn't even paying attention,
their faces buried in their books or staring at their notes or at their
email.
Jenna continued, "It's going to be special because today William is
going to tell the story of how he was completely disowned by his family
when he came out. It still happens, believe it or not, even in 2011!"
Simon's mind was racing. The girls on the train, the weekend with
Katie, now Jenna and William. He was an undeniably rational man and
refused to believe that reality could be so malleable. He stared at
his hand. He was still wearing the faded, beaten ring he had found
Friday evening. How could he not have noticed that it was still on his
finger? Why had he not noticed putting it on in the first place?
Simon was quite used to being unhappy and wishing for changes, small
and large, but he wasn't sure he was willing to believe he could make
those wishes come true. His mind went back to the train and the three
girls. Had they boarded or had they simply replaced the men who had
been riding with him? What happened to the men? Clearly, he thought,
I'm losing my mind. Too much stress, too much worry. He sighed,
loudly, and leaned back in his chair, calming his mind by convincing
himself what he had seen was a trick of the mind or a misperception.
Simon snapped back to reality upon hearing his name called by Professor
Adams. "Mr. Donelston," said the professor, "are you paying
attention?"
"Could you repeat the question?" Simon responded.
"Sure. How does the law treat an estate when both husband and wife die
at the same time?"
"I wish I could answer that," responded Simon, and then, he realized he
could. "It really depends on several pieces of additional information
you haven't provided. Do they have a will? Do they have children? Is
this in a state that has passed the Uniform Simultaneous Death Act?"
Impressed, Professor Adams supplied Simon with the additional requested
information and Simon carefully answered the question and numerous
follow-ups. Before he realized it, the class had ended and Simon was
sitting, shell-shocked, at the back of an emptying classroom.
He stared at his notes, carefully typed and filled with points that he
had neither added or understood. He stared at his textbook, the
reading he hadn't read carefully highlighted with numerous notes
written in the margins. To his absolute astonishment he had intimate
knowledge of every paragraph. This makes no sense, he thought. What
was happening?
***
Simon sat silently at a small table in the far corner of the student
lounge. The lounge was bright and warm despite the harsh winter rain
and dimness outside of the windows. Simon contemplated the ring on his
finger and the increasingly strange series of events that must have
begun when acquired it. He wasn't yet convinced the effect was real.
He wondered if he was losing his mind. I suppose I could test it
empirically, he thought. But how would he do that? Was it right to
change people like he had? He knew he couldn't change them back
because he had tried. When he had first entered the lounge he had seen
Jenna and Sarah sitting hand in hand. Sarah had leaned over and
whispered something into Jenna's ear, causing Jenna to giggle and Sarah
to smile slyly.
I wish they were back to normal, Simon had thought, but nothing
happened. A moment later Sarah stood and gave Jenna a quick kiss
before strutting towards the bathrooms. He wondered if maybe he had to
vocalize the wish. "I wish they were back to normal," he whispered,
before navigating the large room and finding a seat in the corner where
he now sat. He watched Sarah closely as she emerged from the bathroom
and walked back to Jenna. The pair kissed again as Sarah rejoined her
lover. Simon wondered if it was his memory that was faulty. Maybe the
deeply religious, ultra-traditional girls had never existed and he had
somehow created his impression of them from shreds of delusions and
hallucinations? He didn't like the implications of that thought.
He studied the room and his eyes settled on Amy White. Amy was a
transsexual. Simon had always respected her courage. She stood six
feet tall and had shoulders as broad as a linebacker. Her voice was
never capable of performing more than a cheap imitation of a woman's
tone. Her life must be a constant struggle between reality and desire,
Simon thought. No existing science or technology could reconcile how
she looked and how he imagined she must want to look. He realized that
he had a test subject. I wish Amy was really a woman, he thought; he
gasped realizing that Amy was no more. In her place should a petite
young woman with delicate features. She looked absolutely ordinary.
Cute but not beautiful. Where a moment ago she had been wearing
extremely feminine clothing, pink and lacey, now she wore only a tshirt
and jeans. He supposed that the prior outfit had included an
expression of a particular desire that was no longer a concern for the
new, natural Amy White.
It was at this moment that Simon decided he had lost his mind. He
couldn't believe he had the power to change the world in such drastic
ways. He giggled and shook his head and said aloud, "Well this is
either a ridiculous dream or I don't know what the fuck."
"Excuse me," said a voice to his left. "Are you talking to me?" Simon
turned and saw a tall, well built man wearing a tight tshirt and
jeans. He recognized the man from some of his classes but didn't know
his name.
"No," said Simon, "I'm sorry. I was talking to myself."
"Okay, well knock it off, dude. It's a little unsettling to sit here
and watch you mutter and laugh like you're out of your mind."
Simon scowled at the comment. He looked harder at the man, trying to
pull together what he knew about him. Simon was pretty sure that he
was a third year student and had an offer from the Marine Corps JAG
after graduation. He coughed into his hand and pondered what an
appropriate response to the comment was. "I wish you were actually an
international student from Syria, and a lesbian," thought Simon, "but I
want you, and only you, to remember who you were before."
And like that, it happened. At the table beside Simon sat a beautiful
Arab woman, her long dark hair neatly pulled back into a pony-tail. The
top of her head was covered with a modest hijab. She was dressed
conservatively, but Simon noted that she wore light make-up despite her
background. Simon smiled smugly as she held her hands out in front of
her face, studying her delicate fingers. "What happened to me," she
whimpered, her voice carrying only the subtle hint of an accent.
"Are you talking to me, miss?" asked Simon, doing his best to act as if
nothing strange had happened.
"No, no," she answered, standing awkwardly and self-consciously running
her hands down her chest. "I am just speaking to myself."
"No problem," said Simon. "I think we all do that sometimes." He
watched as the woman quickly gathered her backpack and purse and made
her way out of the building. He sighed and decided that he was
absolutely out of his mind or he was dreaming. There was no way this
was real. He decided to test the limits of dream and enjoy it until he
either woke up in his bedroom or came to his senses in a psychiatric
ward.
His eyes darted around the room. He first settled on a group of three
young women sitting near the center of the lounge. He knew them from
around campus as very active in the Animal Rights groups. They were
vegetarians and had led the movement to have smoking banned from the
campus. They dressed in the typical hipster style. "I wish those
three were deep into punk, loved meat, and smoked a pack a day," he
declared. He smiled as their clothing changed, instantly, from the
frumpy sweaters and skirts they had been wearing into tight jeans and
leather jackets. He saw them stand up and smiled broadly as he watched
one of them fish through her purse and pull out a lighter and a pack of
cigarettes. The girl gestured to her friends and the three made their
way to the exit.
His next target was a group of six men. They were athletic and
frequently rode bicycles to school instead of driving. Simon had
always been a little uncomfortable watching them ride in their tight
fitting cycling gear and decided to pretty them up. "I wish those six
were highly athletic, large breasted, cycling, straight girls. But I
want them, and only them, to remember what they were before." The
change was immediate. Where before two of them had worn scruffy beards
they now had smooth skin. One of them stood up quickly, her generous
breasts bouncing erratically from the sudden motion. "What the hell,"
she shrieked. Two of the other new girls were staring at their
friend's breasts, not noticing their own; the other three had twisted
and shocked looks plastered across their face as their hands traced
their new contours. Their activity was drawing a lot of stares,
leading to Simon to wish for them to calm down. Simon was looking
forward to watching them ride up the hill to the school in the future.
Too bad it's just a dream, he thought to himself. They're all so
lovely.
Simon was curious how complete the changes were. He stared at one of
the six cyclists. She had been a tall man with a bald head and a bushy
black beard that contrasted nicely against a deeply tanned and lined
face. She now had pale, clear skin and long, black hair that fell
several inches below her shoulders. Her small hands tightly cupped her
breasts as she sat, shocked and unmoving at the table. Simon now
desperately wanted to find out how far this dream could go.
"I wish she would go into the men's bathroom and check herself out," he
whispered, "alone. I wish nobody else but her and me would go into the
men's bathroom this afternoon," he added. "And I wish she wouldn't
notice me unless I want her to." Simon watched as the young woman
stood up and walked toward the bathrooms. Simon stood and followed.
When he walked into the bathroom she was making faces at herself in the
mirror. Her long black hair would fall over her face and she would
brush it back behind her ears. She blinked at herself, then mouthed a
few words at herself, then gently began to run her hands along her
frame. After several minutes she removed her shirt, gasping at the
sight of her cleavage between her large, milk-white breasts. She
struggled to take off her bra, but not as much as Simon expected. She
clearly had experience removing women's clothing from her prior
incarnation. As her breasts emerged from the bra they bounced gently,
revealing large, brown areola with well formed stiff nipples.
She began to bounce, slightly, watching her breasts move with gravity,
gasping and groping the sides of her chest to stop the jiggling. "This
is so fucking weird," she said to herself. "This feels so weird."
Slowly, nervously, she reached for the buttons on her jeans and
carefully wriggled out of them, dropping them to her ankles and then
almost thoughtlessly stepping out of them. She was wearing yellow
underwear which tightly cupped her crotch. She pulled carefully at the
elastic, looking in, and then immediately let go of the band and let
the elastic pull it back tight against her skin.
She shook her head and whispered again. "Jesus, this can't be real. Do
I really have a vagina? Am I losing my mind?"
Simon began feeling uncomfortable. He wondered if it reflected poorly
that he used his dream to take advantage of defenseless, almost mind
controlled women. He started to feel unreasonably voyeuristic. He
sighed and made his way out of the bathroom, leaving the new girl to
explore her new curves in peace.
***
Simon was seated at the back of a lecture hall, waiting for his
afternoon class to start. He surveyed the room. Last week this class
had been about a fifty-fifty split between men and women; today, he
guessed that at least three quarters of the class was female, all of
them strikingly beautiful. Some were quite oblivious to their change,
others seemed uncomfortable and periodically poked or pinched
themselves as if they didn't have faith in the reality of the form they
inhabited. He expected this weird dream to end soon and had decided
not to make any further alterations. The professor entered the
classroom a little late. She was tall and thin, with well shaped
breasts and long, mahogany hair. She was no more than thirty, almost
as young as her students. Last week she had been a squat, aging man
with bad teeth and a crooked back. She carried herself well and Simon
wondered if she wasn't somewhat pleased with the second shot at youth
even if she had changed gender in the process.
This made Simon wonder what it felt like, to completely change and be
nothing like you were before, without a moment of transition. He
wished he knew what went through these men's heads when they found
themselves changed into beautiful women. He coughed, feeling new and
bizarre sensations. It only took a moment to realize what had
happened. "For fucks sake," Simon muttered, completely unprepared for
the sound of his voice. He stood quickly, feeling the weight on his
body shift in unexpected ways. He noticed that more than a few of the
girls in the crowd noticed him, and seemed to reflect on his actions
with a knowing, sympathetic gaze.
He rushed from the room, feeling his chest jiggle and his hips sway. He
found his way to the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror.
Looking back at him was a woman who might be his sister. No, he
thought, not my sister. My sister if she had cosmetic surgery, breast
enhancement, and a personal trainer. The eyes that stared out of the
mirror into his were unchanged, but his light brown hair now fell to
his shoulders, he lips puckered and his cheeks gleamed. He breathed
deeply and watched the woman's breasts rise, then fall, and felt
uncomfortably connected to and yet removed from the sensation.
"Christ," he whispered, again astonished by his voice. "I really wish
I didn't feel so weird."
Simon stopped. She rolled her bright blue eyes and tracked their
progress in the mirror. "That was stupid," she muttered. She sighed,
again studying her face. "I am her, she is me," Simon sighed, somehow
unperturbed by the way the female pronouns rolled off of his tongue.
This entire delusional episode was starting to frustrate her.
"I wish I knew when I was going to wake up from this dream!" she
demanded, staring at the ring perched above her dainty knuckle. And
she knew as soon as she asked that it wasn't a dream. This was real.
Somehow, every malicious or humorous change, every accidental or
purposeful transformation, was permanent. She started to gag and felt
her breasts heaving on her chest. She needed to get this ring off of
her finger for the time being, until she could figure out how to fix
things. She didn't want to accidently wish another change on another
victim. She panicked, pulling at the ring. It refused to budge, stuck
tightly on her dainty finger.
"I wish I could get this fucking ring off of my finger," she shrieked,
then stopped, realizing her mistake. The ring was gone. Simon
searched around her feet, in her pockets and her backpack, and the
counter and shelves around her head. It was nowhere. Simon didn't
know what to do so she sat down on the tile floor and she started to
cry.
***
Bill found the ring buried in a pile of charred wood and empty beer
bottles on the beach. He was looking for items to recycle, hoping to
find enough to buy a frozen burrito and a bottle of beer at 7-11. His
head was pounding from the dual forces of nicotine withdrawal and a
hangover and so he hardly noticed as he slipped the band around his
index finger before going back to gathering the scattered cans and
bottles.
Tamera
- 19.03.2020
- 25
- 0
