The Terror of the Incubus
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The Burger Flipping Incubus free porn video
The Burger Flipping Incubus
By
Carleton Vincent
Garret was the newest member of the evening crew at the Burgerville
Restaurant on Route 54. By the end of his first night on the job, I found
myself really beginning to hate him. It wasn't that he was a bad guy.
Quite to the contrary, he was a great guy. He had an easy manner and a
welcoming smile. And, though he was the kind of guy who could have gotten
away with being stuck up, he was ready to invite anyone into his circle of
friends. It just wasn't his style to size you up, deciding whether you
were cool enough to hang with him.
So why did I hate him so much? Well--before Garrett had arrived on the
scene, I had been the only guy on the evening shift, and I had it pretty
good. But now, I was completely uninteresting to my female coworkers.
The flirting that they had occasionally directed at me was absent. The
little witty remarks. The playful teasing. It had all abruptly stopped.
It was as though I had become just another one of the girls in their eyes.
I faded into the backdrop and inspired no interest.
To make matters worse, I had no hope of this situation improving. The
girls weren't fawning over Garrett simply because he was the new guy--a
featured new flavor of the month. No--it was crystal clear to me that
Garret would not lose his luster with time. Why? Well--not only did the
guy ooze charm, he was also really good-looking. I suppose you'd have to
say he was a perfect male specimen. He was tall with broad muscular
shoulders and a flat stomach. He had a big square jaw and a cleft in his
chin. His eyes were bright blue. How was I supposed to compete with him?
Then there was the fact that females seemed to literally fall under a
spell when they happened to glance too deeply into Garrett's eyes. I saw
it happen again and again. A girl would be talking to him, and her eyes
seemed to glaze over in a state of entrancement. A dreamy smile would
appear on her face. I didn't know what kind of mojo he was wielding, but
it was damn powerful stuff.
When he was out of earshot, the girls often made lascivious comments
through mischievous grins. Like when Mr. Manning said, "Let me show you
how to operate the broiler, Garrett," Heather looked over to Brianne and
said, "I'd love to show him how to operate a few things myself."
"Get in line behind me, girl," Brianne replied.
As I watched the girls fawning over Garrett, feelings of malice gripped me
like icy talons. Along with this malice, I felt feverish with envy. And,
as I was beset with these dark emotions, I felt something else. Something
strange. I felt my package shrinking. I could actually feel Mr. Johnson
moving against my briefs, as he decreased in length, retracting like a
garden hose being wound back up onto its spool. It was as though my body
were reacting to the sudden feeling of rejection. The girls no longer
deemed me man enough to deserve their attention. With their actions they
were communicating that, next to Garrett, I was practically not a man at
all. My body was reshaping itself to conform to this assessment, it
seemed. My manhood was diminishing.
"It's not really shrinking," I assured myself, as I mopped up a spill in
the dining area. "It's just your imagination, Ryan." After I finished
mopping, I went to the washroom to take a leak. I had to fish around in
my underpants, looking for Mr. Johnson. It was as though he had gotten
lost in the folds of cotton material. When I located him and pulled him
out, he seemed half his normal size. He really had shrunk. "Must just be
cold in the place tonight," I thought. "The air conditioning must be up
too high." It hadn't really seemed that cold, but I couldn't think of
another explanation for my shrinking manhood.
I went into the bathroom again when I got home that night after my shift.
I had to fish for Mr. Johnson again and when I pulled him out, it looked
like he was still only about half-normal size. In addition to that, he
was a little shriveled; looking like my fingers looked after I had been in
the water too long. I pulled down my underpants to get a look at my
balls. They also seemed to have become somewhat shrunken and shriveled.
"What could cause this?" I wondered. I knew it wasn't the air in the
house. It was definitely not cold enough to cause shrinkage. "Is there
something wrong with my hormone levels?"
When I arrived at work the following evening, Garrett was there. "Great,"
I thought. "Just my luck. He's scheduled to work tonight, too."
The girls were standing in a circle, making remarks about what a hunk he
was. I swore that my package was shrinking up again. "You're just
imagining it," I assured myself. The shrinkage of my equipment had
nothing to do with the fact that my female co-workers were now fawning
over Garrett and ignoring me. I brushed past them and punched in for
work.
Mr. Manning told me to help out in the kitchen, getting orders together
for the cashiers. Shortly after that, one of the girls called for two
cokes and a sprite, so I went to the drink machine and began pouring them.
I brought them to the counter and put them onto the customer's tray. Then
I went to the bin of French fries and began scooping them into cardboard
sleeves for another order. As I was working, I saw Brianne drop a cup
when Garrett was close by, so that he would stop and pick it up for her.
As he bent over to get it, she smiled appreciatively at what she saw; and
she held her hand an inch away from his gluteus making a pinching motion.
Heather, who was nearby, snorted with amusement. After Garrett walked off
to take care of some other task, the two girls started giggling
uncontrollably. I felt the shrinkage once again.
I went to the bathroom, entered a stall, and undid my grey uniform pants.
I was horrified at what I saw when I pulled down my underwear. My package
had indeed shrunk up further. It was now the size of a fig; and not only
was it the size of a fig, it looked like a fig. It was even more
shriveled than it had been the night before, and it had turned dark. I
zipped up my pants and bolted from the stall. "I've got to get to a
doctor," I thought frantically. It was plain to me that there was
something seriously wrong with my male equipment. I hoped desperately
that something could be done medically to fix it.
Before I could get to the door, Garrett came into the bathroom. I tried
to get past him to leave, but he moved to block my way. He was a tall and
imposing figure, but he wore his characteristic friendly smile. "Calm
yourself," he said. His rich deep voice suddenly had a hypnotic quality
to it. His sparkling blue eyes looked down into mine.
"Okay," I found myself saying to him and I felt all urgency and anxiety
abruptly fade. I fell into a state of complete calm.
"Hold still," he said, undoing my pants and letting them slide down my
legs. "This will hurt for just a moment," he told me as he reached into
my underpants. I felt a moment of sharp pain, as he tugged. Then I saw
him bring my shrunken and wrinkled package out of my underpants. He
dropped it into the waste can and then went to the sink to wash his hands.
"You pulled it off me," I noted with dismay.
"It needed to be pulled off," he told me. "Now you should wipe yourself
off before you return to work. There'll be a little blood down there
where it came off." Then he produced a pair of satin, rose-colored,
panties and held them up to me. "Here's some fresh underwear for you to
change into. Some of the blood has gotten onto yours."
"What are you?" I asked, taking the panties.
"I am an Incubus," he replied.
"What is an Incubus?"
"That's difficult to explain."
"Well--why are you doing this to me? Can you explain that?"
"I'm not doing it to you," he said. "You are doing it to yourself."
After Garrett left, I pulled a paper towel out of the dispenser, dampened
it at the sink and wiped myself between my legs. There was now nothing
within the patch of hair but a hole for me to pee out of. It was
unsettling when I reached down there to wipe myself and my hands did not
find my Johnson or my balls. When I was finished, I put on the panties.
The satin material clung gently to me. I was again struck with an
unsettling feeling when I saw how the material lay flat against me. There
was nothing between my legs to create a bulging in the satin.
"Why did I put on these panties?" I wondered, feeling the material
sensually caress my skin as I went back to work. It seemed strange to me
that I had agreed to do so. It also seemed strange that I was this calm
about losing my maleness. I was upset, but I wasn't freaking out. "I
should be freaking out," I thought; but it was as if I was in a dream,
reacting to bizarre occurrences as though they were everyday happenings.
Garrett had some kind of power to cloud my mind, I realized.
Ms. Davidson the shift manager approached me. She was a tall woman,
standing a few inches taller than most of the girls on the shift; but she
was a couple inches shorter than I was. At least, she always had been a
couple inches shorter. Now I found myself looking up at her. It seemed
like I had lost height. Ms. Davidson didn't seem to notice that anything
was different, though. "Kristen needs a break on drive up window number
one," she said. "Why don't you go relieve her?"
I nodded. "Okay," I said, my voice cracking so that I sounded like a
girl. I cleared my throat. "Okay," I said again, this time sounding
right.
At the first drive up window, I took orders from customers and then took
their money. My voice kept cracking with every fifth or sixth word coming
out in a girlish pitch. Standing at the drive up window, I was exposed to
the cool night air; but I didn't think that this was what was causing my
tonal fluctuations. It was part of whatever was happening to me. I
looked at Garrett. Things had slowed down a bit, and he was talking to
Brianne. I didn't feel jealous, as I saw Brianne gazing dreamily into
Garrett's bright blue eyes. The only thing I felt now was enmity for
Garrett. "He's turned me into a eunuch," I thought, seething. I felt
utterly mortified at what I'd become. "I'm a freak," I thought. "He's
made me into a freak."
There was a chirp, signaling that someone had pulled up to the menu. "How
can we help you?" I asked and every word came out girlishly high. I
cleared my throat and repeated myself. Once again, my voice rang out in a
soprano. "Four cheeseburgers, two large fries and two cokes," the
customer said. "That will be six thirty six," I told them. My voice was
stuck at this tone. And that was not the only thing that had changed.
When the customer came up to the first window and handed me his money, I
saw that my arm looked thinner. After he drove up to the second window to
get his food, I flexed my bicep. It was definitely much smaller.
"Great," I thought. "Now I'm even more of a freak." I imagined how I
would be treated at school with my soprano voice and wimpy physique. My
life would be miserable.
"Why are you doing this?" I demanded, glaring at Garrett. "Wasn't it
enough that you turned me into a eunuch? Do you have to slowly take every
remaining vestige of masculinity I possess?"
"I am not doing it," he calmly reminded me, shoveling fries into a
cardboard sleeve. "You are doing it to yourself."
"How am I doing this?"
"You must puzzle that out for yourself."
There was a chirp at the drive through window.
"You should return to your station," Garrett told me.
That night, when I got home, my brother was hanging out in the kitchen
with a couple of his friends. He gave me a nod as I began to climb the
stairs and said, "Hey, Ryan."
"Hey, Phillip," I returned. I had forgotten about my voice changing and
was surprised by the high pitch. Neither my brother nor his friends
seemed to notice anything was different, however. I went up half a level.
Mom was in the laundry room laying clean panties out on the drier. She
was a registered nurse and usually worked second shift, so she was often
up late like this. She liked to take care of a few tasks before retiring
for the evening. I had to pass by her to get to the bathroom. She smiled
at me and said, "Hi, honey." Like my brother and his friends, she did not
notice the change in me. It was as though I had always been this size.
I pulled down my panties and took a pee. When I was finished, I looked at
myself in the mirror. Taking off my Burgerville shirt, I discovered that
there was now no muscle tone on my chest or arms. It had all melted away
into softness during my shift. I raised my slender arm and flexed my
bicep like I had done during my shift, but my arm seemed to remain as soft
as a marshmallow. There was also something different about my face. It
had become more delicate and elfin. I put my shirt back on and left the
bathroom. When she saw me, mom scooped the stack of panties off the top
of the drier and presented them to me. "Here," she said, "these are
clean."
Not knowing what else to do, I took them from her. There was an
assortment of bright colors--purple, lilac, pastel blue and pink. Satin
material felt cool on my fingers. Why in the world was she giving them to
me? It was utterly bizarre.
"Put them in your dresser drawer," she admonished me firmly. "I don't
want to find them sitting on your desk chair where you usually toss your
clean clothes."
"Th--these are mine?" I sputtered.
"Well, they aren't mine," she replied, "so they must be yours."
It seemed like my reality had been strangely warped. And, in this new
reality, I wore panties everyday. My mom accepted this as though it were
normal for me to do so. It was as though I was living an episode of that
strange old black and white TV show: The Twilight Zone. I expected that
creepy guy to come out at any moment and start narrating my bizarre story.
"Consider Mr. Ryan Mackery. A young man who has just unwittingly stepped
into... the twilight zone.
As I left for my shift the next day, I thought about what Garrett had
said. He had indicated that I was doing this to myself. If I were
somehow causing this to happen, could I do something to stop it? Could I
reverse the changes?
"Maybe I'm causing this to happen by letting Garrett get the better of
me," I thought.
I this hypothesis were true, then I had to somehow get the better of
Garrett to stop what was happening to me. But how? I had been unable to
compete with Garrett before, and now I was a soft, soprano voiced, little
eunuch. There was no way the girls would go for me over him.
"Maybe I don't have to win the girls away from him," I thought. "Maybe, I
just have to embarrass him and decrease his standing in their eyes."
I devised a plan, which I thought was pretty damn clever. Garrett always
hustled when things got busy, moving back and forth behind the registers
to bring orders to the cashiers. He was the model employee, eminently
industrious. So I waited until the dinner crowd started to get heavy, and
I poured some French fry grease on the floor. A few moments later Garret
came cruising by holding three chocolate shakes. When he hit the grease,
his feet slid out from under him and he landed on his back. The shakes he
was carrying spilled all over him. A chorus of laughter rose up
throughout the restaurant. Customers waiting in line, the girls working
the registers, and even Mr. Manning all guffawed at poor Garrett's mishap.
I couldn't have asked for a better victory over him.
Unfortunately, my little prank did not have the effects I intended. As
Garrett went down with shake splattering all over him... as I heard the
laughter of everyone nearby... as I reveled in my moment of triumph... I felt
something strange happening between my legs. It felt like skin was
stretching and folding. I slipped away to the bathroom and locked myself
in a stall to check it out. When I pulled down my pants and panties, I
was shocked to discover that I now possessed a vertical fissure between my
legs. I had acquired a vagina! There was no longer just a hole there. I
had a vagina!
Why did this happen, I wondered with dismay. I had been hoping that,
perhaps, I might regain some of my masculinity, but instead I seemed to
have moved further in the direction of female.
As I inspected myself further, I realized that my chest had plumped up
just slightly. I could see the small mounds under my uniform shirt. I
undid my buttons and saw that I was wearing something additional under my
shirt. It was a camisole, striped in two tones of purple like the panties
I had put on that morning. I lifted it up to look at my chest. I had a
double A-cup size, I estimated.
When I emerged from the bathroom, the shift manager looked at me. "Hey,
Rhiannon," she said. "What were you doing in the men's room?"
"The men's room?" I replied, looking back behind me at the man on the door
and the word men underneath him. I wondered why it would be a problem
that I had gone in there.
"Are you going ditzy on me, girl?" she said.
"Ditzy?" I repeated, my overburdened mind trying to catch up with what she
was saying. She had called me a girl, she had used the name Rhiannon, and
she had thought it strange for me to be in the men's room. It seemed that
my last transformation had pushed me over some boundary line. I was now
female.
"Get your head together, okay," she told me. "We're real busy tonight;
and I had to send Garrett home, because he was a mess."
"I've become a girl," I thought. It was strange. The small and
incremental changes I'd been experiencing had brought me across a boundary
line and now I was female. When one tabulated the changes that brought me
over this boundary, they were not all that significant. The implications
of this small shift were immense, however. I was now a member of the
other gender. On forms, I would have to blacken circle number two to
indicate that I was female. Dressing up would no longer mean wearing a
suit and tie. I would wear a skirt instead. Relatives would no longer
say, "You've grown into such a handsome young man." They would say, "What
a pretty young lady, you've become."
"Uhg!" I thought, as I considered all of this.
That night I had the strangest dream. Garrett came to my second floor
window. He was floating outside it, calling my name softly. I was frozen
there in the darkness of my room, as I peered at him. It seemed as though
his eyes were glowing like a dog's. "Let me in, Rhiannon," he said. "Let
me in." Dressed in my clinging camisole and panties, I got up out of my
bed. I was trembling with fear, but something made me move towards the
window.
"Wh--what are you?" I asked, repeating the question I had asked a couple
days earlier.
"Don't be afraid," he cajoled. "Let me in."
I found the release for the screen and popped it out. "Okay," I said.
"You can come in."
He floated in through the window. Then he was standing before me. "That
was clever the way you tricked me today," he said, "but, as you have no
doubt concluded, that was not the way to reverse what is happening to
you."
"How do I reverse it?" I asked pleadingly.
"Transcendence."
"Transcendence? What do you mean?"
"You have looked upon me with enmity. It was these feelings that formed a
bond between us. Your masculinity has leeched out of you through that
connection. To sever it, you must move past your hatred."
"Okay--I don't hate you anymore then."
He laughed. "Silly, girl, you can't change your feelings as easily as
that. It is not like flipping a switch."
"Then what do I do?"
"It is most likely too late. You let yourself get caught in the current
of your hatred, and it has dragged you almost to the point of no return.
Had you tried earlier to step out of the current, you might have
accomplished the feat in time.
"Now, I've talked enough. I must conclude this evening's business."
He then stepped forward, grabbed me, and planted his lips onto mine. I
struggled angrily, trying to get him off me; but he was too strong. The
muscles in his hands were like steel vices, holding me securely in place.
He smothered my lips with his, lingering there a long time. There was a
stretching feeling in my chest and in my behind. My waist felt like it
was constricting. He released me then, and he was gone.
When I woke up, I found that I was no longer wearing the cami and panties
I had gone to bed in. Instead, I was wearing a blue ruffled nightie, and
there was a pair of large mounds underneath the satin material. My chest
had increased in size significantly. I put my hands under the two swollen
breasts, bouncing them with wonder. I guessed I was now a C-cup. My hair
had grown longer as well and now fell down around my shoulders. I ran my
fingers through it, feeling the thick, soft and spiraling tresses. Then I
got up out of bed and I pulled up the nightie. I saw that I was wearing a
pair of matching ruffled blue panties. They stretched over curving hips
and a round behind. My waist was slender, and I had a nice hourglass
silhouette.
"It wasn't a dream," I thought. Garrett had really been there during the
night.
I walked into the Burgerville that night to work my shift. Garret was
there. He looked at me and gave me a friendly smile. I avoided his eyes
and walked to the time clock to punch it. The shift manager told me that
I would be working one of the registers that night. An hour or so later,
the shift was hitting its busiest time. While I was taking an order from
a customer, Garrett brushed past me. He was on his way to grab some
French fries for another order, and the passage past me was tight. As I
felt his body against mine, a shiver went through me. I told myself that
I had not reacted to him touching me. It was something else that made me
shiver. The woman I was waiting on smiled knowingly at me. Then her eyes
darted to Garrett's backside and glimmered admiringly. A little while
later, when I wasn't waiting on a customer, Garrett came to me and asked a
favor. "Can you pour three chocolate shakes for the order at the
counter?" he asked.
As he spoke to me, I felt funny. I went all weak and melty inside, and I
began to feel light headed. All I could do was say, "Sure, Garrett."
He patted me on the shoulder, "Thanks, Rhiannon."
For a moment, I felt like I was floating. Then, as he walked off to take
care of some other task, I came to my senses and realized what had just
happened. I had responded to Garrett like one of the girls. I was sure
that if I had been able to see myself, I would have seen the same glassy
eyed look on my face that I had seen on the faces of the girls when
Garrett had talked to them. I would have seen myself wearing the same
dreamy smile. I shook it off, mortified by my own behavior. I looked
around, hoping no one had seen me acting that way.
I quickly went to work pouring the shakes, turning my attention to the
task at hand. I didn't want to dwell on what I had just experienced. I
was afraid of it. I carried the shakes to the counter and set them down
on the tray with the rest of the order. "Here you go," I said to the
customer.
That night, Garrett was at my window again. This time, I knew it was not
merely a dream. It seemed like a dream, but it was really happening. I
went to my window and opened it. Garret floated inside and came to rest
standing on the carpet before me. I had suspected he would be back, and I
had made preparations for him. I then reached into my desk drawer and
pulled out the wooden cross. It had been hanging on the wall downstairs
for years. "Get away from me," I hissed, holding it up between us.
He chuckled at me. "That will not work."
"But aren't you some kind of demon?" I said.
"Demon is not an entirely correct label. My kind has been called demonic,
but demons are beings of pure malevolence, and we are not entirely
malevolent. Nor are we truly benevolent, for that matter. I suppose I am
best described as a personification of the essence of masculinity.
"When you hated me, I drew in your masculinity in to me, and it
strengthened me. Had you managed to befriend me, you would have drawn
masculinity from me into yourself. I would have gladly given it to you,
too. It is a shame that you could not master your own emotions."
"Is it too late to reverse this?"
"Yes. It is exactly too late right now. Tonight marks your passage past
the point of no return."
Garrett then stepped forward and kissed me again. This time, my will
melted. I found that I could not resist him. I wanted him badly. I
couldn't deny it. Nor did I feel embarrassed about these feelings. In
that moment, I became a young woman in entirety. I grabbed at his jeans
and undid them. The bulge in his underpants was enormous. I felt a
powerful mix of fear and desire, as I saw it. I pulled down his briefs,
unleashing the gargantuan member. The two of us tumbled onto my bed. He
stroked my inner thigh, and I moaned with pleasure. I felt myself loosen
between my legs. I wanted him to enter me. I longed for it. He pulled
up my nightie and kissed my breasts, heightening my sense of pleasure. I
pulled down my panties for him. Then he was in me, and I gasped. He
pumped me, forcing me to stifle an impassioned cry. I didn't want to risk
waking my mother or brother. Intense pleasure came in waves as he
continued to pump me. Then my world exploded. My eyes shut tight, I
clutched at my sheets and breathed out in the ragged gasps of orgasm.
Then he pulled out of me, and he was simply gone. He had disappeared into
vapor never to return.
When I woke the next morning, I knew I was pregnant. I knew it before
taking the pregnancy test. I would be a pregnant teen, a disgrace in the
eyes of my suburban community that I was ready to bear.
When I went to Burgerville for my next shift, Garret was not there. He
never came in again, much to Mr. Manning's dismay. "He was the best
worker I ever had," he would often state. I, of course, also bemoaned
Garret's disappearance--but for very different reasons. It was long times
before I stopped gazing through my bedroom window every night, hoping that
he would appear. "What manner of child has he given me?" I wondered.
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