VCR: Chick Flicks (first Reel) free porn video

VCR-chick1 The VCR: Chick Flicks (first reel) If the flea market hadn't been so close to my house, this never would have happened. I'd have been just another fifteen year old guy, getting ready to finish off my freshman year of high school and not... okay, I'm getting ahead of myself. Here's how it went. Every day, I rode the bus home from school. Sounds bad, I know, but at fifteen I was one of very few high school students on the bus, so I got to read, or snooze, or watch movies off my iPod - whatever I wanted. The younger kids pretty much left me alone. So the bus wasn't so bad. Which didn't mean I wasn't looking forward to getting a car over the summer when I turned sixteen. Even if the car turned out to be a beater, which considering what my mom had bought for my sister, it probably would be, driving still beat the heck out of riding a bus with second graders. But in the meantime, the bus stop nearest my home happened to be in the front of the Treasure Palace. It sounds like a casino, but it was actually a flea market made inside an old K-mart that had gone out of business. Inside the store were dozens of little booths and tables, every one of them manned by some old dude or lady who had never heard of ebay. Mostly it was the same kind of junk you saw at every flea market - old clothes, busted furniture, computers that were old when the world was young. There was one place that sold bicycle wheels. I kid you not, nothing but the wheels. Most of the time I just walked past it, but every now and then some cool stuff turned up. Old war medals, arrowheads, ancient comic books, crap like that. I was already thinking about stopping in that afternoon when a big fat raindrop smashed into my forehead. That got me moving in a hurry. I made it through the door of the Treasure Palace right as the first rumble of thunder rolled past and the scattered drops turned into a downpour. Inside I went past the bicycle wheel lady, the hubcap guy, and the creepy dude who sold "Amish" furniture that had little "made in Thailand" stickers if you knew where to look. I spotted some old comics heaped up along with tattered paperbacks on one table and spent some time looking through them, but there was nothing there worth buying. After making a trip around the back, I was about to leave the store, then I saw a pair of blue jeans that made me stop in my tracks. I wasn't thinking about buying the jeans, it was what was inside that made me stop. In front of me was a woman with possibly the greatest posterior I had ever seen. She was bent over, arranging heaps of junk on a table as I came up. As far as I was concerned, she could have leaned over that table for hours, but I think she sensed me staring at her ass. As I came closer, she turned around. I was a bit disappointed to realize that she was older than I expected. I had been hoping for hot cheerleader, and what I got was something more like hot soccer mom. But there was some reward: she was wearing a oversized blue sweatshirt, and from the action going on as she turned around, no bra. She caught me looking at her and grinned. "Hey, kid. See something you like?" Sweater meat is what I wanted to say, but I instead I wandered closer. This woman looked kind of familiar. "Did anybody ever tell you that you look just like that actress from The Matrix?" I asked. She laughed. "Don't I know it." There was a cardboard table in front of her stacked with a variety of stuff. Most of it looked to be guy's clothing, and from the look of the clothes the guy who had worn them was big enough to need two seats on airplane. "Right actress, but I'm from a different movie." The statement was weird enough that I had no idea what she meant. "People are always telling you look like her," I guessed. She laughed. "Hell, kid. Nobody had to tell me. I picked her." To my amazement, the woman raised her hands and gave her boobs a squeeze through the sweatshirt. "Funny thing is, I never thought this chick was all that pretty. But once I tried it," She pressed her boobs together and kneaded them through the shirt. The open collar of the sweatshirt was low enough that I got an amazing view of cleavage in motion. She worked at her boobs for a second longer, then dropped her hands with a shrug. "You wouldn't believe how good that feels." "Uhhh..." this whole conversation was starting to feel more than a little crazy. Women didn't usually start giving themselves a boob massage right in front of me -- not even at the Treasure Palace. "Yeah, it... Umm... It must be nice." She grinned at me again. "You want to find out?" I gulped. I was pretty sure I'd get in big trouble if anyone saw me touching this woman's breastage, or maybe she'd get in trouble for letting some underage kid paw at her. Somebody would be in trouble. But for once I didn't let something like common sense get in the way. "Sure," I said. I paused to lick my lips and watched her boobs sway under the loose shirt. "Absolutely." "Well all right then." The woman slapped her hand down so hard on the folding table that it made me jump. She bent over, and for a moment I wondered if she wanted me to join her under the table, but before I could make a move, she straightened up again. There was a cardboard box in her arms. "What's that?" The woman who looked like Trinity pushed the box across the table at me. From the way the folding table sagged, I could tell that whatever was in the box, it was something heavy. "Here you go, kid. Your ticket to finding out everything you ever wanted to know." The box had a top that was folded closed. I reached out to open one corner, but the woman slapped my hand away. "Just take it," she said. There was a change in her voice, and when I looked up she was staring past me down the row of booths and tables. "Take it quick." With that, the woman spun around. I got one last good look at her jeans as she ducked under the rope that ran along the next aisle, then she stood up and headed for the door just one notch under a sprint. I was still trying to think of what to do, when the guy from the "Amish" furniture place came wandering over. "Damn shame," he said. "She was the hottest thing in this place for a long time." The guy slipped around the end of the table and crouched down to look at the boxes the woman had underneath. I could hear things clanking as he sorted through the stuff. After just a few seconds, he stood up, scanned the heaps of fat guy clothing, then reached for the box the woman had pushed toward me. Before he could grab the box, I got my arms around it and heaved it off the table. "That's mine." The furniture guy scowled at me. "Yeah, what did you pay for it?" "She gave it to me." That got me a grunt in reply. "Sure she did. Hand it over before I call the guards." In a hundred visits to the Treasure Palace, I had never seen a guard, so that probably wasn't as scary as the guy wanted. Instead of giving him the box I just hugged it up against me and started for the door. If he came after me, I never noticed. I was too busy watching the guys in dark suits and darker glasses who were coming in the door. If these guys weren't Feds, they were doing a very good job of copying the look. The suit guys walked past me without a second glance. I didn't know what they were after, but I hoped it was people selling fake Amish furniture. By the time I was out in the parking lot, I had learned two things: it was still raining, and the box the woman had given me weighed a ton. There was no place to set the thing down, and with every step it got heavier, wetter, and the cardboard got closer to falling apart. By the time I turned onto my street, the box was sagging at every corner. Something was rattling around inside, and a sharp metal corner was poking through in just the right place to spear my forearm. I was starting to wish I had let fake Amish guy have it. There was no one else home when I reached my house. No big surprise. My parents had been divorced since I was six and mom worked as a nurse practitioner at one of those drug store clinics. Her usual shift ran from just after three in the afternoon to almost midnight, so we were lucky to even see each other during the week. My sister Katie, who at seventeen had her own rusty car and was theoretically in charge when mom was out, was also absent. Again no big surprise. Katie was right in the middle of a big emo/goth rebellion schtick that seemed to mostly involve a lot of eye makeup and being gone until five minutes before mom showed up. The house was mine. With no more than a minute of cussing, I managed to get both me and the soggy box inside. Then I stumbled to my room, dropped the drippy brown mess on the floor, and finally opened it to see what was inside. It was a VCR. Not just any worthless old VCR, but one that was at least twice the size and three times the ugly as the one my mom had thrown away years ago. I other words, fake Trinity had used me to carry away her garbage. I almost took it straight through the house to the dumpster, but there were a half dozen or so tapes in the box, so I thought I might plug it in for a second just to see if the woman had gifted me with some educational materials. In other words, I wanted to see if there was any porn. I hefted the big silver VCR out on the floor in front of the 32" screen at had been my mom's guilt trip inspired Christmas present. There was a power cord and a set of video cables in the box, but no sign of a remote. I couldn't even see if the VCR had a pause button. There was just play, rewind, and eject, all of them lined up on the top next to the weird pop- up tape slot. Along the back, there was no manufacturer's name, just a sticker with the number 27. There were parts of another sticker, some kind of weird, pointy symbol, like the kind they put on medical waste. That one was on top of a metal plate that looked like it had been welded onto the back of the machine. "it's Franken-VCR," I said aloud as I hooked up the cables. "Probably plays nothing but horror flicks." I got the box set up and picked a tape. None of them had labels, so I just slotted it, hit play, and hoped for some movie with "naughty" in the title. As it turned out, it was kind of the opposite. As soon as the tape was pressed into the VCR, the theme song for Gilmore Girls started up. The picture was amazingly clear, and (like every guy in America under 99) I'd had my share of Rory Gilmore fantasies, but I was hoping for a different kind of chick show -- the kind with bare naked boobies, so I stabbed the eject button and tried the next tape. If the Gilmores had been a disappointment, this one was worse. Some show called "What I Like About You" that I could tell was going to be irritating before the opening credits were done. Time for tape 3. This time I got lucky. Not that it was porn, but it was at least something that interested me: a copy of the movie "Mean Girls." I didn't have a DVD of the film, because it was certified "something I'd be embarrassed to have any of my friends find out I owned," but seeing Lindsey Lohan at her young and chesty best got me to leave the tape in for a few minutes. Then, because the image was so amazingly good, I watched a few minutes more. Then, because of that scene where Cady wears a red sweater, I took off my pants. Sure, it's embarrassing, but I did have the house to myself and hours of time to kill. Heck, I was already thinking I might do a repeat performance if there was anything good on the other tapes. Sue me, I was 15. Beating off was my primary hobby. The thing is, this little episode didn't go as expected. Just as I was starting to wish I had planned ahead far enough to bring some Kleenex, the TV spurted before I did. Only it spurted in the form of a blue-white lighning bolt that snaked out of the screen in slow motion and smacked me square in the chest. Intermission time. By the time I woke up, Cady Heron had gone from social outcast to queen of the "plastics." Judging from what was happening on the screen, I'd been out for several minutes. I was foggy for a few seconds longer, trying to remember what had happened, then I noticed something odd. My arm was covered in freckles. I raised my hand to look at it, but before I could get my fingers near my face I noticed the tumble of red hair across my shoulder. And before I could do more than raise my head for a better look, I felt something shift on my chest. The hand that had been headed for my face changed direction, and instead landed on something that was warm and soft. It was one of those things that I'd thought about often, but never really gotten to handle before. It was a boob, and it was mine. For a moment I felt woozy and my head slipped back against the pillow, but that only brought fresh movement from my new chestage. I slowly levered myself back up again. As I did, it became obvious that I didn't actually have a boob -- I had a pair, and from the way they stretched at the fabric of my shirt, a very impressive pair. Below the shirt, bare legs that were almost as freckled as my arms dangled over the end of my bed. They were tangled together at the knees by a pair of tidy whities, a relic of my activities before I blacked out. Carefully, I raised one foot (an actually pretty foot) and used it to slide the underwear off my legs. The feeling of the cotton shifting over soft skin was enough to make me shiver. Then I pushed myself to the end of the bed and slowly stood up. I felt wobbly. Not only did it feel like everything on my body was moving around and shifting in strange directions, it felt like something deep -- something like my bones -- was connected in a whole new, looser sort of way. Across the room, the mirror above my dresser showed Lindsay Lohan. Actually, strike that. It wasn't the twenty-something actress with more court dates than screen credits. It was a teenage red-haired hottie with wide green-blue eyes and a shocked expression. It was Cady Heron. I was Cady Heron. I said the first thing that came to mind, which was something really profound like, "oh wow." The voice didn't sound quite the same from inside her head, but it definitely had that throaty, sexy edge of that had helped make Cady the most doable babe in a movie filled with girls who were walking ads for sex. A couple of unsteady steps got me closer to the mirror. The girl in the glass looked almost exactly like the one on the screen. Her -- my -- hair was a little messier, and she wasn't wearing any makeup, but she still looked good enough to stop traffic. Good enough to stop traffic across half a city. I raised on of those freckly hands and waggled my fingers at the mirror. Hello, Cady. I turned my head left, then right, watching those green eyes pivot in the mirror. I pressed a finger against my cheek. It felt real. The smooth skin puckered in around the tip of my finger, the skin turning pale under the pressure, and I could feel it pushing against the unfamiliar cheekbone. "I'm a girl," I said, in my new girl voice. I let the finger slid up and traced along the red-brown arc of an eyebrow. I pushed the tangle of hair back from my forehead. It was thick, heavy, and slightly damp with sweat. I smiled at myself. "Holy shit. I'm insanely hot." And then I did the only sensible thing -- I peeled off my shirt and got a good look at my boobs. Maybe it was just because they had sprouted there instantly instead of growing over months or years, but they seemed impossibly huge. I mean, staring at these things when someone else had been wearing them had been exciting, but having them attached to me was more scary than sexy. My whole body felt like it was made of curves that went in all the right directions, only they all felt completely wrong. The boobs were actually big enough that they could have blocked my view looking down, but they sat more over to the sides than I had expected. I could actually plant my hand in the center of my chest and barely touch either breast. Both fingertip sized pink nipples angled slightly up, and slightly out. Kind of like I was signaling a left turn and right turn at the same time. Those nipples seemed to be getting harder by the moment. Between them I could see a smooth stomach with a belly button that stretched out more up and down than the side to side model I was used to. Further down were smooth thighs that touched together at their milky tops, then separated as they flowed down toward knees and calves. Between those thighs I couldn't see any hair at all, couldn't really see much of anything but a bit of folded pink skin. Instead of being shocked about loosing my Johnson, I was kind of glad not to see it. After all, without it I was a girl, but if the rest of my body was ultra-hottie while downstairs I was still packing, I'd have been just weird. I raised a hand and lightly touched one finger to the quivering red tip of an achingly hard nipple. The result was a shock almost as big as the one I'd gotten from the TV. I moved my hand lower, sliding down the warm taut skin of the belly, over a slight rise, and down to... squishy stuff. Electric squishy stuff. My knees trembled, and I nearly fell. The face of Cady in the mirror looked flushed. I took the hand away from the damp softness, braced myself against the wall, and took three long breaths. The fantastically freckly boobs moved up and down as I did. This was, without a doubt, one of the most sextastic bodies on earth. Only I had no idea what I was doing in it. "I need to get a better look at this," I said in that throaty, stick-it- to-me-now voice. I walked slowly to the door of my room, feeling not just the sway of my breasts, but that loosey goosey detachment somewhere in my hip zone. My thighs lightly brushed together at each step while my breasts swayed side to side as well as up and down. My ass did a weird little bounce. I felt like i was navigating Jell-o. Slowly, unsteadily, and absolutely nakedly, I made my way down the hall to the bathroom. I half expected this hallucination to be blown away by the bright lights over the sink. Instead there I was, still completely wrapped in a collection of freckle-dotted curves. With my eyes locked on the girl in the mirror, I put my small hands under my definitely not small boobs and pressed them together until the cleavage turned into a slot big enough to handle a piece of toast. The weight in my hands felt considerable, and the feeling from both my fingertips and my chest insisted that these things weren't cartoon balloons. They had weight, they had warmth, they had a faintly lumpy, faintly grainy sort of internal texture. They might be the first pair I'd handled, but they felt very, very real. The girl in the mirror was looking pale. She looked like she might faint. Everything about this felt miles too real to be any sort of dream, from the way the tangled hair teased the sides of my face to the cool air I could feel in the open triangle above the spot where my thighs touched. What if it was real? Really real. I pulled in a ragged breath and goosebumps spread across my skin thicker than the freckles. "It can't be real," I whispered, trying to ignore the sound if my voice. People didn't turn into other people. I mean, sure it might be fun if I could be sure it was only temporary, but what if I was really a girl. Really Cady Heron. What if it was for good? "Holy shit," I said again. "What's mom going to say?" I'd never be able to convince her that it was me. She'd throw this big- boobed redhead out of her house, or call the police. And then what? It wasn't like I could ring the doorbell at one of my friend's houses and say, "Hi there. I know I look like Hollywood's most famous skank, but I'm really your old pal Jake." I shivered violently enough that my teeth clicked together. The girl in the mirror looked strange. For a moment I thought Cady's hair was losing its color, then I realized everything was losing it's color, because I was going down. I managed to get my arms under me long enough to keep my new face from smacking into the edge of the sink, but after that I kind of sprawled on the cool ceramic tils of the floor. Passing out actually seemed like maybe the most sensible thing to do. So I did. When I opened my eyes, my sister Katie was standing over me. I think she looked concerned, but with the big raccoon circles of black eye shadow, it was hard to tell for sure. "Holy fuck," she said. I looked down and saw enough bare legs and boobs to have no doubt about whose curvy skin I was in. "I know it doesn't look like it, but I'm really..." "Jake," she said. "Jake," I finished. "Wait." I pushed myself up on one arm and tried to ignore the sensation of cold tiles against my well-padded ass. "How did you know it was me?" Katie tilted her head toward my room. "I came in, saw a bunch of stuff in your room, spotted your pants on the floor, then followed a trail of clothes and underwear to a naked Lindsay Lohan on the bathroom floor." She shrugged. "So either my little brother got lucky with the most notorious piece of ass in the world, who is for some reason slumming two thousand miles from home, or he turned into a girl." "But people don't just turn into girls. It's impossible." "I repeat, either my brother got lucky or my brother ran into super sex- changing magic" Sne shrugged. "I just went with the one that seemed more likely." I opened my mouth to protest, then thought better of it. "Well, when you put it like that." I raised a hand. "Help me up." She grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. I was still wobbly, and more than a little embarrassed at being naked, but the sheer weirdness of the moment made naked seem like a minor thing. At least Katie knew who I was, maybe she could help me convince mom not to run me out of the house. Besides, I guess I didn't have any parts now that she didn't have. Up until a few weeks ago, Katie had been a gymnast, and though she swore she'd gotten too big to be competitive, she was still only an inch over five foot. I'd outgrown here when I was twelve, but at the moment I didn't seem all that much taller than Katie. I'd always thought of the Queen of the Plastics as kinda tall, but in my bare feet, I couldn't have topped Katie by more than a couple of inches. We were practically eye to eye. Which only made it weirder when she reached up and grabbed my left boob. "Wow," she said. "Very nice." "Uh, what..." I started to step back, but she grazed a thumb over my nipple in a way that brought on equal measures of excitement and embarrassment. Katie lifted slightly on the soft half-globe and rolled the stiffening pink tip under her thumb. "I've always wondered if these things were as good as they looked." she gave my nipple a soft tweak that sent a warm shiver running through my body. "Katie..." "Shhh," she said. Her other hand came up and she slowly traced a finger over the freckles at the center of my chest. "Does that feel good?" "I.. Um, yeah, but..." Katie grinned. Her finger traced a course between my boobs, down to the taut, smooth skin over my stomach. her hand headed lower. I backed up so fast my ass hit the wall with a slap that made pictures rattle in their frames. "What are you doing?" "Living the dream," she said. She stepped toward me. "But I've turned into a girl." She rolled her eyes. "And I like girls." "You... you're gay?" She nodded. "Since when?" "Since always, idiot." She stepped toward me and put her hands on my bare shoulders. "Didn't you ever wonder why I never went out on dates?" I shrugged. "I just figured you realized all the guys at our school were idiots." "That too," said Katie. Then she leaned forward and kissed me. She managed a few seconds of lip lock before I turned my head. "I'm your brother!" "Really?" she snuggled in against me. "You don't look like my brother." I managed to get my arms between us and pushed her away. "Yeah, but you still look like my sister. I don't care how weird this is, I'm not making out with you." Katie frowned. "Spoilsport. You bring me naked hottie, then won't let me..." She paused a moment, stepped back and crossed her arms. "So how did this happen?" I stepped around her and headed back down the hall, acutely aware that Katie was watching my wide, bare ass as I bounced my way to the bedroom. Once inside I picked up the fallen T-shirt and pulled it over my head. It took me a bit to wrestle my hair loose from the shirt. When i did, the cloth was stretched tight over my new assets, and it was barely long enough to cover half my ass. I thought about pulling on my jeans, but there was no chance they would fit. "I think it was this." I gave the VCR a nudge with one bare girly foot. Katie knelt down next to the machine and ran a hand over the top. "Where did you get this?" "Treasure Palace," I said. "From this woman who looked--" A little rocket went up in my head. "A woman that looked exactly like Trinity from the Matrix." The idea came through to Katie right away. "You think this thing Trinitized her; the same way you got the full Lindsay?" "It didn't occur to me at the time, but yeah, now I do." "So how does it work?" I bent down, pressed the button to eject the tape in the strange pop-up slot, and pulled it out. "This tape has Mean Girls. I turned it on, started watching, and poof: insta Cady." Katie looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "You were watching that? Are you sure you weren't a girl to begin with?" "Very funny." Katie sifted through the collection of tapes, pulled one out and stuck it in the machine. A few seconds later, an old episode of Friends appeared on the screen, with two of the women arguing. "So if I watch this, I could turn into Monica?" I nodded. "I guess so." "Cool," said Katie. "She's hot." She plopped down cross-legged in front of the screen. "Wow, great picture." "How do you know you won't turn into Joey?" I asked. She tapped the front of the TV. "You think that's possible?" I shrugged, felling my boobs rise and fall as I did. I dropped onto the end of the bed, my thighs pressed warmly together. "This thing didn't come with a rule book, but what are you going to do if you do get changed? Nobody's going to believe it's you." "You would," said Katie. "Besides, at least it would be something different. It's so boring being me." She turned toward me long enough to give me a mocking leer. "You and me can run off together, learn to use all the new gear." I didn't reply, though as Katie leaned forward and stared at the screen expectantly, I found myself idly brushing one nipple through the cotton shirt. The light touch sent tingles that seemed to jump across to the breast I wasn't touching, and I swear I could feel actual oven-grade heat growing between my legs. What would it be like to try out this body? If Katie was to get turned into someone else... The longer I thought about it, the longer I thought it would be a crime to get this body and not see what it would do--like being given the keys to a Ferrari and leaving it in the driveway. But while I was getting more and more ready, Katie was getting more and more impatient. "Nothing's happening," she said. "Are you sure this is what did it?" "Has to be," I said. "I sat down, started watching the movie, and--oh." "Oh what?" "I kind of, I mean... There are a lot of hot girls in that movie. So I sort of, um." Katie looked at me for a few seconds with a puzzled expression in her mascara circled eyes. Then she gave a snort. "You mean you beat off?" From the heat I could feel on my face, it was a good bet my cheeks were as red as my hair. "I kind of started, but just when I was getting there..." I gestured at my body. "Blam." "How could that make any difference?" "I don't know," I admitted. "Maybe it was just a coincidence." "One way to find out." To my surprise, Katie stood up and walked out of the room. I could hear her banging around in her own bedroom, but before I could decide to see what she was up to, she came back into the room carrying what looked for all the world like the metal things that $30 cigars come in. She held it up. "You want me to do it, or are you ready for a test drive?" "What?" Katie pressed her thumb against one end of the silver tube. At once there was a kind of throbbing hum. "Guess it's going to be me," she said. Then she reached up with her free hand, unbuttoned her jeans, and let them fall to the floor. "Katie!" "What? We're all girls here." She sat down in front of the TV with her legs spread apart and immediately began applying the business end of her little tool. "This," I said in what I thought was a really calm tone, considering, "is the weirdest day of my life. By a factor of about ten million." "Uh huh," said Katie. Actually, it was more of a grunt. If what was on the screen had something to do with what the machine would do, then Katie didn't have to worry about turning into Joey, because someone had edited all the guys out of the show. It wasn't actually an episode of Friends on the tape, it was clips out of several episodes, all of them featuring just Monica and... whatever Jennifer Aniston's character was called. The scene changed about every ten seconds, but it didn't seem to be bothering Katie. From the way she was breathing, it seemed like she didn't care much about any problems with the plot. I was just concentrating on keeping my eyes on the screen and trying to ignore the weird feeling of heat between my own legs. So when the picture on the tv suddenly changed, I had a few seconds to notice. That's when a bolt of weird blue lightning came from the screen and hit Katie. And then me. I had just time to think "again?" Intermission two. THE END OF THE FIRST REEL