The Changeling
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Some Things Never Change free porn video
Some things never change
By Trainmaster
Synopsis: A geeky tenacious boy, leading a Boy Scout troop on a 50-mile
hike, turns into a beautiful poised young lady when the Genderwave
overtakes them on the trail. Her (former) father becomes the emotional
lightning rod for everyone on the hike, and finds out that changes of
sex aren't as important as the things that don't change.
My son Stuart was a lanky kid with a heart of gold and a determination
to be successful at all he did. The other kids considered him geeky and
some even tried to insult him by calling him "Sticks."
Stuart's insecurities drove him to excel at everything. He didn't care
what the bullies called him because he was so busy striving to rise
above the negative things he felt about himself, deep inside, where no
amount of parental encouragement could ever reach.
Stuart was nearly 18 and almost an Eagle Scout. All he had to do was
complete his last merit badge, and he chose hiking. That led him to plan
a six-day 50 mile hike through the mountains.
He recruited other scouts, eight in all ranging from three 11-year-olds
to his best friend, Dennis, the assistant senior patrol leader, a rank
behind and half a year younger than Stuart.
He also recruited a group of parents to accompany them. Me, obviously,
because I'm his father and I'd do anything to encourage him. Another
scouting-savvy father, Leon, came with us. And two women: Cassie, whose
11-year-old had allergies but really wanted to participate; and Denny's
mother, Karen, an Army officer and nursing supervisor at the military
hospital.
The first day out, we saw a flock of eagles. There must have been a
dozen, some way high and several swooping low enough that we could see
the individual pinfeathers of their wings. The sight was awesome and all
the boys had their cameras clicking away.
We did some stargazing each night, working on the astronomy merit badge
several of the boys wanted to earn. It's amazing how deep into space we
could see without the distraction of city lights. Then, one night, we
had a snipe hunt, organized by Stuart and Denny. The boys played
ultimate Frisbee every chance they got.
When we reached the lake just over the pass, Stuart, Denny, Leon and I
broke out our fishing rods and hooked dinner for all of us. The game
department stocks the lake regularly, so there was plenty of great
eating and we filled ourselves up with trout and fire-baked potatoes.
Early on the third day, it was foggy and the younger kids thought the
forest was eerie. Later, we saw a lot of contrails from some kind of
high altitude Air Force maneuver. The streaks were parallel and very
crisp until the wind came up and blew them into wisps. We tried to
visualize cloud figures from them but there wasn't anything
recognizable.
It was one of the most relaxing vacations I've had, way out in the
wilderness, with no civilization visible beyond the veil of tall trees.
The cell phones didn't work, so we gratefully turned them off and hid
them in our backpacks.
There are things that never change; hiking, observing wildlife, gazing
into the sky, cooking over a campfire -- and having fun. It doesn't make
any difference whether they're in the backyard or 50 miles into the
mountains, kids are always kids.
With all of Jeffrey McDonald's allergies, Denny told Stuart it might be
handy to have Karen's nursing expertise along. We were also concerned
about the kids stumbling off the trail and hurting themselves. In the
process of camping, we'd probably encounter cuts, slivers, burns, and
other ordinary accidents. Or blackberry and nettles, bee stings,
blisters -- the usual first aid things. What happened was something none
of us ever could have foreseen.
It was our fourth day out. We'd just stopped for a lunch break when we
noticed something coming toward us out of the east. It shimmered and
looked like a heat wave washing through the forest. It came so fast that
we were paralyzed.
As the shimmering wave passed over, I changed. One second I was a 40-
something male and the next second, I was a woman. Just like that. No
warning.
My clothes adjusted with me. I felt a bra under my flannel shirt, which
became denim, the tails knotted around my waist to reveal a middle-aged
midriff. My blue jeans turned into cotton shorts, showing off female
legs.
I could feel different sensations around my body. My upper thighs were
chilly without the warmth of my genitals. I could feel the fabric of my
panties in a whole new way. My new breasts were weights where I'd never
had weight before. My fingernails were long. My hair was curly and
tickled the back of my neck.
I suddenly understand beyond any doubt I was Tanya Henry. My Finnish-
born great aunt's name had been Tanja and it made sense that I was named
after her. My grandmother's maiden name was Henry. Somehow my history
had been re-written and I was abruptly disconnected from my father's
ancestry.
Then I started to notice the others. Close to me was a gorgeous young
lady -- slender, proportioned like a fashion model -- with delicate
facial features and auburn hair tied back in a scrunchy.
"Dad?" She looked at me, as the naming epiphany hit her, too. "You're
... we're ... my brain's flooded with new information ... I-I'm Linda
now." She studied her slim arm. "I'm a girl. What happened?"
"Hey everyone," said a burly imposing man with a deep frown, dressed in
Army fatigues. "We need to introduce ourselves. I'm Captain ... well, a
few minutes ago I was Karen Garner. Now I'm Glenn Cooper." Before the
wave, Karen -- aka Captain Karen to her friends and staff -- had been
wearing fatigues.
Karen's son, Oren, an 11-year-old Tenderfoot scout, changed into Sybil
Cooper. Her hair was tied into pigtails with pink ribbons. Denny was
Diane Cooper. She hesitantly asked us to call her Dee Dee but couldn't
explain why.
Leon Wilson had traded his average build to become a chunky blonde woman
with wide hips and braided hair who introduced herself as Marjorie
Oberholzer. Her stepson, Lee Daniels, was Loribeth Miller.
Cassie McDonald was a man named Bill Roth. He had a large bald spot and
a beard that was turning gray. His 11-year-old wore a decorative armlet
that said "Lindsay." Before the change, it had been a medical ID
bracelet identifying the boy's many allergies.
Bill's older son Morgan, 13, turned into Sissy Roth. "Sissy?" she
challenged with her hands defiantly on her hips. "Really? Come on, guys
-- couldn't you pick a better name, one that's normal?"
"What do you want us to call you?" wondered Bill, looking confused.
She thought for a minute and then brightened. "I like Sue," she said,
shaking her ponytail.
It took some encouragement to get one of the 11-year-olds to share her
new name, Debby Kelly, or her old name, Billy Hanauer. He'd always been
shy but now she was tongue-tied. Linda gave her a hug and she smiled
bashfully.
Eddie Noonan, a 12-year-old Second Class scout, was Suzanna Ramirez,
starting puberty with a rebellious purple streak running down the side
of her dark hair.
Fourteen-year-old Joseph Collinwood was Melissa Hagen. Now she called
herself Missy instead of Joey. Along with Loribeth and Sue, she held
First Class rank.
Whatever the agent of the change had been, in its wake none of us looked
even remotely like who we'd been before. We ate our trail lunches in
silence and the midday air was just as hushed and still.
"We need to go," said Linda finally. "Whatever that thing was, it's
still a long way to the campground." She picked up her pack and promptly
collapsed sideways into the ferns at the side of the trail. She grunted
with shock.
As Stuart, wiry and strong, she'd always driven herself relentlessly.
She'd insisted on carrying the group utensils and food, so her pack was
the heaviest. As Linda, her body wasn't as toughened.
"I'd better take that," said Glenn. "You carry mine instead." After
treating her for an abrasion on her elbow, he helped her put on his
lighter pack. He picked up hers with ease, adjusted the straps, and
waved his hand to beckon us forward.
Marjorie and I dropped to the back. "This is weird," she whispered.
"What happened?"
At a post-transformation rest break, Linda consulted privately with
Glenn, drawing fingers around her map. Then she turned to us. "It's too
far to the campground. We can't make it before dusk. There's a meadow
about half a mile ahead, so we'll camp there tonight."
After dinner, as the sun set orange and pink to our west, Glenn
addressed us. "I don't know how long this will last. I really hope it's
temporary and we'll change back to our own bodies when we get home. But
for now, you're female and you have to deal with the realities of being
women." It was clear from his face that his nursing training had kicked
in.
His first issue was to teach us how to take care of pee'ing and wiping
ourselves properly. Then he had a bigger, more embarrassing topic for us
older ones. "Breast cancer. Just in case, you know, in case this is ...
uh ... permanent. You'll need to know how to check yourselves for
lumps." He demonstrated to each of us what the self-checks felt like,
and then guided our hands to do our own. His hand on my breast was an
oddly fascinating, somewhat erotic sensation.
The next morning, we packed up and started out. Linda's goal was the
campground we'd forgone the night before. We'd hiked about an hour when
we met a woman on horseback coming the other way, wearing a figure-
hugging ranger's uniform with a Smokey Bear hat. "How are you folks
taking it?" she asked.
"Fine," said Linda. "Getting hot. We could ..."
"No," the ranger interrupted. "How are you acclimating to the sex
changes? Is anyone having any problems? If you need to get help ..."
"How do you know about the sex changes?" asked Glenn.
"Yesterday my name was Ben Underwood," she told us. "Now it's Donna
Johnson. Everyone in the world changed. That shimmery wave ... the news
is calling it the Genderwave. It went all around the world and no one
escaped." We looked at each other, stunned, after she rode off, leaving
little puffs of dust under the horse's hooves.
Marjorie was not doing well. At one point, I noticed she had tears in
her eyes. "I'm scared," she said when I asked why.
"About the baby?"
She looked at me, startled. "How did you know?"
"I heard you throwing up this morning. It wasn't the food or we'd all be
doing it. When did you find out?"
"Beth had a doctor's appointment just before we left. She's been having
headaches and back pain. Her breasts ... have been really tender."
Marjorie lowered her voice as she cupped her own gently and winced.
"So the doctor gave her some good news. But now she's male and
theoretically the baby had to go somewhere. Congratulations. You should
be very happy."
Marjorie frowned. "Uh ... yeah. That's the problem. I don't want to give
birth -- I heard that it's really painful."
"Well," I comforted. "I also heard it's the most wonderful feeling when
they lay the baby on your breast for the first time ..."
"This whole thing is so ... so wrong." She pressed her hand against her
belly as she heaved a sigh. "Why me ...?"
"I'm pretty sure every other person in the whole world feels the same
way." I looked at her and smiled. "Beth is going to be thrilled, you
know. She's probably frantic about losing the baby."
Marjorie sniffed hard. "I suppose."
The Genderwave changed the dynamic of the hike. Linda and Glenn bonded
as the co-leaders, planning together and consulting each other. I
realized I was content to be led and not make any decisions. I wondered
if I'd have the firmness to manage my staff when I got back to work, or
if I'd even care.
Lindsay wore a smile on her face. She had a spring in her gait that
hadn't been there before. "I can actually breathe," I heard her tell her
father.
Dee Dee caught up with Glenn and they talked softly as they walked. At
the next break, she rested her head on his leg for a few minutes. "Her
period started," Linda whispered to me. "She didn't know what it is and
it worried her."
Even with the soft thud of our boots on the trail and the little
creaking noises our pack straps made, nature was all around us. It was
heavenly. The trail dipped down to ford a delightful laughing creek and
then rose to give us a view of the valley ahead. The sky above was an
amazing blue, the kind you get when there are no clouds at all.
As we stood looking into the valley, we became aware of several long
whistles -- and then movement on the rocks. Little brown heads popped up
to look at us. "Marmots," chuckled Linda. "We've stopped and that makes
them nervous." She clapped her hands and the heads disappeared. But
after only a few seconds, they began to reappear. Soon we were all
laughing at the rascals.
"Tanya, can I talk to you alone?" asked Glenn in a low voice a while
later. "Maybe you could give me some advice."
"Sure," I said. We moved away from the others.
"I ... I was so straight when I was a woman. Loved my body and had a
really cavalier attitude toward everyone else. It's so easy to be that
way in the military ..."
"Now I ... I miss my female body. I want it back. I think I'd cut off
every male part right here just to be a woman again."
I started to answer but his mind was on a different wave-length.
"Imagine what I'll look like after reassignment surgery? Ha! A butch
dyke. Not even breasts can help me now. I'm paying for my selfishness --
God must surely hate what I did with my life."
"Glenn? You were a nurse. You helped save lives. You spent your career
doing the work of God, so how can you say God's punishing you?"
"I don't understand," he said, tears streaking his cheeks and catching
in his stubble. "How can I expect others to understand either? I might
as well be dead."
I realized he was serious. "Glenn," I whispered, "please, please don't
do anything that will hurt Sybil and Dee Dee. They need you more now
than ever before."
At the campsite where we pitched our tents, Loribeth, Sue and Missy ran
up to me. "Mrs. Henry," they asked. "Will we stay this way, like the
ranger said?"
There they stood, on the cusp of becoming women, confused about their
new status in a world where everything at that age is already confusing
enough. I gave them the best answer I could. "It will be okay. You have
plenty of time to adjust."
"Will we still get to be boy scouts?" wondered Loribeth. "Cuz now we're
girls."
I smiled. "Things are turned upside-down, honey. Yes, you are girls. But
all the girl scouts in the whole world are boys now, so they'll probably
just change the labels."
"Do we have to wear make-up?" They wrinkled their cute new noses.
My inner voice wondered how they would learn to be women. Who would
teach them? All the people they should look up to as role models were
now male. Were all the secrets lost?
Even as I thought those things, I realized they weren't true. I knew I'd
have no trouble putting on make-up. The Genderwave changed things so no
one would have to tell me how. And I could teach the girls.
"Do you want to wear make-up?" I asked. They looked at each other and
nodded.
"Then you can," I said. "You'll enjoy it."
"Told you," said Sue, punching Missy lightly on the arm. "Now you have
to show me what you found in your backpack." Sue whispered to me, "she's
hiding some cosmetics ..."
Linda rallied the kids. She had them unpack their bathing suits and sent
them down to enjoy the river. The campground was there because the river
widened into a beautiful shallow pool with a long sandy beach.
Then we leaned together against a tall stump and watched. Finally I
chased her after them. "Go enjoy yourself. Let yourself be a kid for the
rest of the day." She smiled and patted my hand before heading to our
tent to change. I watched her run across the beach, giggling as the
water splashed around her.
"Hey," called Bill, coming over with a left-behind newspaper. "There
were two waves. One we felt. The other stayed over the Pacific. When
they met up, there was a flash and everything about reality changed to
match our new bodies." He handed me the paper.
The article said that anything related to our old lives was gone.
Wedding pictures, birth certificates, credit cards, all had transformed
to be what we are now. I'm Tanya Henry, I thought to myself. There's
nothing left of Anthony Williams, businessman, father, activist, scout
leader.
I pulled myself onto the stump and sat with my legs hugged against my
breasts, watching the kids frolic in the river. At least some things
never change.
Copyright © 2012 by Trainmaster. All rights reserved.
This story is a work of fiction. No resemblance to any individual,
living or dead, is intended.
Story based on Bob H's Genderwave universe. Copyright © 2004 by Bob H.
Gert
- 21.12.2021
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