Just West Of Happy, Part 4 free porn video

Warning: This story contains MATURE THEMES including nudity, sex, sexualization, and vulgar language. Do not read if you are under 18 or if it is otherwise restricted for you to do so. If you wish to share this story, contact me at [email protected]. I will likely agree, I just want to know in advance. This is part 4 of the story Just West of Happy. The TG continues in this section and the obligatory "getting used to being a girl" begins. It's getting a little more emotional now and I hope the change to tone isn't too drastic. There isn't a lot of sexualization in this one. Some mention of anatomy and Ian's changes, but otherwise it's pretty tame. As I may have mentioned before, I don't really plan my stories out. I like to just write and see where my character bring me, so I don't know what the future will hold. I do intend to have an arcing plot structure, some conflict, and everything else they teach you about in English class, but I will try not to let that interrupt the more "base" enjoyment of the story that some people might be looking for. I know I usually do. This one is also shorter than the last and about as long as the relatively-brief second part. Again, I won't promise the next one will be longer or shorter still since I don't know. I just write and let the muses take me where they will |_| Just West of Happy, Part 4 By: Whimsy I had had some strange things happen to me over the past couple of days. It was weird when my friend on the internet said she was going to come see me in person, weirder still when she said she had driven 700 miles just to see me. It was equally strange that we had sex together that first night after just meeting that day, especially considering my non-existing experience with women before Melinda showed up. I can't even describe how I felt when she told me, and proved to me, that she was a witch, and don't get me started on watching her breasts grow two cup sizes and my penis growing at least five inches. When she removed my genitals--well, that took the cake. Then she gave me a vagina. That took the whole bakery. But now somehow, somehow, she'd found a way to outdo herself. I was sprawled out on the cold tile floor of the batheroom--the women's bathroom. When she had given me a vagina, the magic of our bond--the bond that allowed her to control me utterly--had made the world see me as a real woman. I was an ugly woman, of course. When people looked at me, they saw a very mannish woman and I had gotten more than a few stares. But since the thing that truly distinguishes a woman from a man in her sex organs, I was a woman. But I still didn't feel like a woman. After all, I didn't have breasts or wide hips. I had hairy legs, a bit of a stubble, and bad breath. Melinda had fixed all that. I had to admit one thing, I felt like I belonged in the women's bathroom now. The door opened again and a woman stepped in and stopped. It must have been quite a scene. On the floor near the sink basin was a young girl, 19 but looking a few years younger, sprawled out on her back, rolling with mirth. She was a mousy thing, lithe and small, but obviously with great energy that she was exhibiting right at that moment. She had wild brown hair that seemed to obscure parts of her cherubic face. There was a definite air of mystery and mischief to her, she probably noticed. Beside her, sprawled out and staring at the ceiling in what appeared to be shock, was another girl. This girl was a bit shaplier than the first, with obvious breasts straining a t-shirt that was not designed to contain breasts. Her own coarse, straw-blonde hair was also shaggy, but somewhat less so, not obscuring parts of her face but still intruding on it slightly. She was tall, close to six feet, with bony angles and lanky, awkward limbs. She was wearing no pants and the unmistakable odor of sex permeated the bathroom. That woman was me, Ian West. And to say I was in shock was an understatement. Until just a few minutes ago, I had both been a man (albeit one with a vagina) and been a virgin--at least in regards to a female's orgasms. Both of those things changed when my girlfriend--the mirthful girl rolling around beside me--rendezvoused with me in the ladies' bathroom and negotiated me to a mind-blowing female orgasm with her tongue (It had been a weird day). When I'd awoken, she'd brought me to the mirror and I'd come face to face with a female version of me, a sister, if I'd had one. I once again found myself in the lamentable position of being unable to move. I will say one thing for the situation: I really didn't care about the woman standing in the doorway staring at us. Not even after she huffed and said, "You two should be ashamed of yourselves!" in the most prudish way possible before storming out of the room. She sounded like she was at least 80, but I hadn't even seen her. Melinda crawled to me, still bubbling giddily, "That was amazing," she cackled, "did you see that woman's face?!" I barely craned my neck to look at Melinda. I could do naught but lay on my back, the only position I felt like I could adopt without every bit of my jiggling and bouncing in reminder of my new gender--well, ok, I'd technically been a woman for awhile now, ever since we left campus, but in a more social sense I certainly wasn't going to be confused for a man. Not even by myself. Even lying on my back was strange, for I felt the weight of those breasts pressing down on my chest, sagging into a peculiar shape as gravity did what it did to all women. "Come on!" Melinda urged, grabbing my hand. Even that felt strange. Before, I could feel her soft hands as distinctly different from my own, but now, it was like two pairs of pristine tissues rubbing up against each other. She tugged on me and, unbidden, I began to sit up. "We can't sit here all day. They'll call the cops." I felt like every movement made my body ripple, sending parts of it surging to life. My chest especially seemed prone to bouncing and I dared a look down to watch those healthy mounds encased in straining blue cotton. I found myself entranced and barely heard Melinda's giggle. "I'd say C cups," she said with a thoughtful air, sitting with her legs under her as I sat up, feeling the chill of the tile against my bare bottom quite acutely. "Definitely not D cups, but probably not B like me," she pressed her smallish breasts together beneath her shirt in illustration. "You are one lucky girl!" "What...did you--?" I stammered out, but choked back the words almost comically when I heard a female voice escape where I still somehow expected my normal voice. It was recognizeably my voice, but higher pitched, a bit breathier, though maybe that was because I couldn't bring myself to speak above a whisper. "Hello? Hello?" I tested, my voice bouncing around the room. It was definitely whispier and breathier, an alto perhaps. Not quite a soprano. "My name is Ione," I blinked and cleared my throat, "Ione. My name is Ione." I couldn't bring myself to say my real name. Melinda watched me with a wide grin, "Ian is such a weird name for a girl, isn't it?" she said with an evil grin. "You're Ione West, apparently. It's a pretty name, but I wonder if your parents just didn't have a lot of creativity." "What did you do?" I stammered pathetically again, hoping for a straight answer, though I'm pretty sure magic was involved somehow. Just a guess. Her grin did not fade, "Magic--" "I know it was magic," I cut her off, my voice a bit sharper than I intended, which caused me to wince. She didn't seem angry at my snap, in fact, if anything, she seemed even more amused, "Well, I don't think any science was involved, but to put it in terms you might understand, I basically turned all your Y chromosomes to X. Like I said," she shrugged, "I don't know if it worked like that, but I basically willed the magic to make you into the woman you would have been born as if you'd been born as a woman." I stared at her dumbly. There was no cake left to take, but this managed to find a hidden stockhold and take all of that too. Of all the strange things that had happened to me over the past couple days, this was the strangest by far. I supposed, in retrospect, I should have expected this. Everything had kind of been leading up to it, I suppose, but one never expects to just become the opposite sex, even if it seems like the logical conclusion. There was another troubling thought in my mind, however. I watched Melinda stare at me with a mix of amusement and curiosity--even a bit of hunger, I realized with a pang of surprise--and wondered, not for the first time since we'd left college, about her sexual preferences. She'd shown absolutely no reluctance or even hesitance at coming onto me in the most sexual ways possible when I was a man. She had stared at my engorged member as if it was the most arousing thing in the world. But she had actually given me a vagina of her own free will. Not only that, but she'd just eaten me out. It had been a little strange, a little tentative, but not entirely forced I remembered vaguely. She had gone at it in gusto once she'd started, really. And now she'd pushed me all the way over that strange, mysterious gender line, and she wasn't looking at me any differently. "Are you--" I began, but she tugged me to my feet. "Come on," she interrupted, stooping down to pick up my skirt. "Let's get this back on you. My waffles are probably ready by now!" I hesitated as she handed me my skirt. I probably did look a sight. Naked, fleshy female thighs tapiring down into my sneaker-encased feet. If nothing else, I would have rather discussed this somewhere else, where people weren't going to keep bursting in on us. Honestly, I couldn't believe there had been that many women in the diner. I awkwardly fumbled with the skirt while Melinda watched, seeming to enjoy my plight as usual. Every movement I made made me acutely aware of the changes Melinda had made, and my breasts seemed to have a mind of their own. My frustration must have been apparent, for Melinda's grin grew even wider. "Do you want me to help with those?" she asked with an innocent grin. I was quite familiar with Melinda's brand of help, but for a moment, I wasn't quite sure what she was talking about, "W-With what?" I asked feebly, managing to get the skirt around me and holding it up with my hands. Melinda grinned and walked to me, cupping her hands under my breasts, "They really are nice," she said, bouncing them a bit. I practically toppled over. It wasn't entirely a sexual rush, not like I'd always played it up to be online when I was playing the woman. It was more confusing and awkward, but there was an unmistakable tingle, largely centered on my nipples, which were suddenly beginning to poke through my shirt so hard I was afraid they would rip it. I dropped the skirt, but I hardly noticed. Melinda had me pinned against the sink basin and was staring deep into my eyes. It was strange, to be in the exact same situation we'd been in earlier that day even though my life had been completely turned upside down. It was almost like fate was trying to show that nothing had really changed. But things had changed. A lot of things. Melinda continued to stare at me, her neck craned up slightly and I, for my part, looked like a cornered mouse, pressed so hard against the basin that I felt like I was going to become a part of it. She grinned suddenly, however, and bent down to grab my skirt, "You dropped this," she said, kneeling in front of me, her face right at level with my glistening crotch. She reached around and began to wrap the skirt around my waist again. "I meant your breasts," she continued. "Your tits? You know, those giant things on your chest." I blushed. I had been wrestling mentally with whether they were "giant" or not. They certainly felt giant, but in that moment after I'd regained consciousness and saw myself in the mirror for the first time, I'd thought I was looking at a real woman, and I remembered thinking her breasts were nice. Big, but not gargantuan. Melinda's words made me feel even more uncomfortable, if such a thing was possible. "I'm a little jealous," she said as she finally buttoned my skirt, though she hardly looked it. In fact, she looked like she was positively eating this up. No pun intended. "I've always wished I had bigger breasts- -and using magic doesn't count. That's cheating. Though I would lie if I said I never have," she added with a playful grin and a wink. "But we won't have to do that for you! Your girls are quite ample!" I felt like I was going to topple over again, but Melinda grabbed my hand and urged me towards the door, "I can help with them, though," she said, stopping at the door of the women's bathroom. "They're probably feeling really heavy and awkward, right? Well, you just need a bra." I stumbled a bit at the word, trying to imagine myself wearing a bra. Then, just a bra. It was ridiculous, because my mental image of myself was still male. "But like everything in life," she said dramatically, waving a finger "it's a trade." I hesitated as she stood in front of the door, watching her with a dizzy expression. I knew what her "trades" entailed. I was living one of her trades right now. This was her idea of "fixing" the problem of all the attention I was getting when people thought I was an extremely ugly woman. "Wh-What kind of trade?" I stammered lamely. I was fully aware that she was eating my discomfort up. "I'm not telling~" she said in a playful, sing-songy voice, "I won't change any part of your body. I intend to keep you just like this for awhile," she said with a grin, wrapping her arms around my arm. "I'll give you a bra, but I'll give you something else I want." I grimaced a bit. As if the bra wasn't something she would enjoy, I thought. It was something that made me even more like a woman, and she was certainly enjoying that part of it. "I...I guess," I responded meekly. All at once I felt the strain on my chest lighten significantly. The feeling of freedom, of unrestrained bouncing, was gone. However, this feeling of constraint and restriction came with a new chill washing over my body. I looked down comically and a generous portion of clevage greeted my gaze. I was wearing a strappy girl's top now. It had a loose hem on the bottom that swished around my midriff almost like my skirt was around my ankles, but I hardly noticed that. I was too busy gaping at my naked clevage, which seemed to be lifted and pressed together slightly by the bra, giving me the appearance of having more breast than I actually did. The top was held up by straps along my shoulders, which were slim and somewhat shapely. I realized with a start that I had pretty shoulders. The garment was the same shade of blue as my shirt had been, but it was a lighter, silkier material, easier on the skin I realized vaguely. It did have one thing my shirt didn't, however: a logo in the center in the shape of the female sign, the ring with the cross beneath it. "Ta-da!" Melinda cried, gesturing to me like a gameshow host showing off a NEW CAAAAAAR. "And I won't even have to normalize it! It fits you beautifully!" I sputtered a bit, leaning back to look at myself in the mirror. Indeed, the slightly shocked woman looking back at me in the mirror hardly looked out of place at all. In fact, if I had been in any position to look at myself clinically just then, I would say I was actually kind of cute. If I'd seen this girl walking down the street, there was no way I would think she'd ever been a boy. In fact, I realized with a mortified shudder, if I'd been a more bold man I might have given her a second glance, even asked her out on a date. Her features were a bit long and she was a bit awkwardly tall and lanky, but those things were easily overlooked for her body, which was, I had to admit, quite nice with firm, rounded breasts and supple, smooth skin, and those eyes. I'd always secretly liked my eyes. I didn't often look at myself in the mirror, but when I did, I grudgingly admitted that my crystal blue eyes were actually somewhat noteworthy. This might explain why I rarely got any attention. My mother, when she wasn't berating me for my poor grades or lack of a social life, had often said that everyone had at least one good quality. I'd always believed mine to be my eyes. But since I never looked at anyone, only the ground ever got a good look at them. The woman in the mirror had my eyes, but they were even larger, perhaps more expressive even. They were a woman's eyes, but they were still my eyes. And being a woman's eyes seemed to enhance their beauty somewhat. I found myself staring at those eyes for a moment, lost in them, before Melinda tugged on me again, "Come on!" she said playfully. "Our dinner is probably getting cold!" I stumbled out after her, feeling a squelching between my legs that was becoming all to familiar. My legs were glistening with sweat and my own juices and I felt like I had peed myself. "Here," Melinda said, turning to me as if she sensed my plight. I immediately felt another change being wrought on my wardrobe and, almost without realizing it, I patted around my waist and hips (surprised at their dramatically-altered dimensions). I felt a new garment, the panties that she had given me earlier. I could feel them riding up my new, slightly shaplier ass, but they covered my gender well enough. "Don't want you leaving a puddle when you sit," she said playfully, pulling on my arm again. "Or ruining that nice skirt!" I stumbled along after her, barely able to find my footing. I certainly felt weighed forward, like my breasts were pulling me towards the ground slightly. I was afraid that if Melinda wasn't there, I probably would have toppled over. My body moved differently too. I didn't have dramatically flared hips, but they were certainly wider than I was used to. I had felt strange walking like a man after she had removed my package the first time, now I felt almost bow-legged when I tried. "Like this," Melinda said, walking in a sort of swishing, straight-line fashion, letting go of my arm to demonstrate as she entered the diner proper. People glanced up but, this time, hardly paid me any mind. I was somewhat pretty, but not remarkable enough for most people to give me a second look, it seemed. I watched Melinda walk in a way that I hadn't before. Before, I had been appreciative of her body, of every move she made. Now, however, I was more interested in figuring out how I could get from point A to point B without falling face first on the ground. I didn't fancy landing hard on my breasts. I tried to emulate her steps, but based on the strange looks I was given, and the broad grin Melinda was giving me, I felt like I could have performed a bit better. Fortunately, however, I made it to our booth and was able to slide into my seat before we drew too much attention to ourselves. At least one of the women in the diner was giving us dirty looks: a withered old thing sitting alone. I realized, mortified, that she must have been the one that walked in on us laying on the floor of the bathroom and hastily hid my gaze. Melinda, however, just waved at her with a friendly smile, "She seems nice," she said, sticking out her tongue playfully. Honestly, this girl was insane. There was no food at our table. Maybe the waitress had held onto it while we were away, or perhaps the service was lousy. Either way, Melinda continued playing with some creamer packs, building a little fort in the middle of the table, while I did my best to look casual when the very act of breathing felt foreign and unfamiliar. Finally, however, I could stand my curiosity eating away at my insides no longer. "Melinda," I murmured, trying to keep my voice hushed, which wasn't hard. I almost felt like I couldn't have been as loud as a woman as I had been as a man. My voice just didn't seem to have the same capacity for volume as before, "why did you turn me into a...th-this?" "Into a what?" Melinda asked casually without even looking up. I blanched, for a moment thinking this was a serious question, "Y-You know!" I stammered feebly. She looked at me with a neutral, mildly curious expression, eyebrows raised ever so slightly, "No, I don't, Ione," she said, her voice as even as her expression. "Turn you into a what?" I huffed a bit, suddenly realizing that she was playing with me. I couldn't help but feel a grudging admiration for her acting abilities. The fact that she, the giggling wonder, could say that with a straight face was worthy of a truck full of Oscars. I heaved a sigh that sent my chest into motion dramatically (immediately making me regret the sigh), "You turned me into a woman," I said, playing along. "I did?" she gaped, again exhibiting masterful acting skills as she looked surprised. "How do you know that?!" "What do you mean how do I know?!" I retorted in shock. "Look at me!" "Tell me the evidence that you're a woman," she said, suddenly grinning. Even the most proficient actor couldn't keep it up forever, I realized. I stared at her for a moment before looking around, suddenly feeling a wave of shyness wash over me, "W-Well," I said nervously, suddenly my female voice sounding all too girly and foreign to me. "I...I have a girl's voice." "And a very pretty one," Melinda nodded appreciatively. "What else?" I blanched and took a deep breath, "I...my hips are wider." "A little bit," she agreed again, "and?" "...my butt," I muttered under my breath. "A little bony, but not bad," she said with an appreciative nod. "Anything else? I mean, a man could have wide hips and that bony ass of yours." I gritted my teeth, "I...I have b-breasts," I said, unable to even look at her. "Huh?" she frowned and cleaned out her ear with a finger, "I didn't quite hear that." "B-Breasts," I said a bit louder. However, she merely leaned in a bit more, as if she still couldn't hear me. I realized it wasn't the volume that she was looking for, but the word. I braced myself before muttering, "I have...tits." "You sure do!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands and looking down at them. "They're really nice. But even a man could--" "I have a vagina," I said quickly. "A pussy," I added with fire burning at my cheeks, knowing she would want to hear that word. "Well it sure sounds like you're a woman," she agreed, sipping at her water casually now. "What did you ask again? I forget." "Why?" I asked with a slightly exasperated tone, "why did you turn me into a woman? Were you...not happy with me as a man?" Her expression suddenly changed and she quickly shook her head, looking almost worried as she reached over to take my hands, "Oh sweety, no," she said quickly, taking my hands in hers. "Don't think that! This is just part of the game!" I watched her, feeling mildly comforted by her genuine tone. "You're a very handsome man," she said, leaning over to kiss my cheek, an awkward stretch for the small girl. "But you're also a pretty woman." I watched her for a moment, confusing emotions bubbling inside of me. "Are you...gay?" I asked finally, managing to choke it out. Melinda blinked at me, but was unable to respond before the waitress came to our table, putting down two heaping plates of waffles with a bit more force than was necessary. I saw a look of contempt on the plump middle- aged woman's face and realized she probably knew what we'd been doing in the bathroom. Or someone had told her. Suddenly I felt that sneaky suspicion that we were being stared at again. Fortunately (or unfortunately), I couldn't see any proof of it save for the old lady who'd walked in on us while we were laying on the floor. "I probably should have ordered something smaller for you," Melinda said, completely ignoring the question I'd asked her only a moment before. "I'd hate for you to lose that girlish figure of yours!" That still left this rather petite girl with a heaping plate of waffles herself, but there hardly looked to be an ounce of fat on the girl, and watching her eat now and the previous day when she'd had a giant hamburger and her own and half of my order of fries, I got the feeling she either had an amazing metabolism or kept her weight in check with magic. I felt a little awkward repeating such a sensitive question. I was positive she'd heard me, but for whatever reason, she felt like ignoring it, so I decided to let it slide as well. For now. I would let it nag at me for a little while longer, perhaps ask her again in the car, perhaps wait until we were alone tonight, hopefully with my man bits back and hopefully laying naked in bed after another mind-blowing sex session. I found my crotch pulsing to life again, that unfamiliar warmth beginning to spread through my body one again. I felt thankful for the panties my girlfriend had given me (I can't believe I thought that) and tried to squirm away the feelings, but it was difficult. "You were thinking about what we were going to do tonight, weren't you?" Melinda asked. I realized she'd been watching me with a wide grin on her face. I squirmed again, but gave her a feeble nod, feeling no need to lie to her. She leaned back, sucking the syrup off her fork as she seemed to think, "I was actually thinking about that too. I took a little drive through this town on my way through. Danbury?" I blinked. This was not going the way I expected, but I nodded in confirmation of the name. "I saw a little place downtown," she continued, piercing another pile of waffle and stuffing it into her mouth, "Dance Berry was it?" she said with a mouth full of waffles. "I thought it was clever. A dance club in Danbury named Dance Berry," she grinned playfully. "I kinda wanted to check it out." I watched her warily for a moment, "What are the chances I'll have my gender back by the time we get there?" I asked in a tight, shaking voice. She shrugged, "Next to zero," she said with an infuriating casual voice, thrusting more waffles into her mouth. "Come on, Ione," she said, worrying me with how easily the name came to her, "I don't have a lot of friends at college and everyone's always talking about going to clubs with their girlfriends. Well, now I have a girlfriend and I want to spend a night on the town!" she waved her hands back and forth as if she was dancing in her seat. I stirred around my waffles nervously, suddenly not feeling particularly hungry. Being a girl was bad enough. Everything felt so wrong, so different. I felt like the whole world was staring at me, and it didn't help that my shoulders were bare and I was so used to wearing pants that I felt like I had nothing around my legs so those might as well have been naked as well. But then there with the strange, disturbing idea that I had been shunted into a sort of platonic friendship all of a sudden. Girlfriend could mean one of two things, romantic or platonic, and going out on the town with her like this? My head was swimming with the implications. It wasn't so unusual for me to immediately think of the worst, and the worst in this situation was that she had already gotten sick of me as a man and wanted to push me into the infamous friend zone in the best way she could: by making me her girlfriend. For her part, she didn't seem to notice about my concerns (or did she not care?) and continued to eat with gusto while I merely contemplated my food. By the time she had finished her entire plate, I was only about a quarter of the way through mine and she began fishing in her pocket for some money. When I made a move for my pocket, I suddenly realized I didn't have any pockets and flailed a bit in panic, but she just grinned, "Looking for this?" she asked, holding up my wallet. She fished into it and pulled out something, tossing me my driver's license which proudly bore the name "Ione West" and my new female portrait. I stared dumbly at it before looking at her in shock. She just grinned and waved her hand like a magician conjuring pigeons out of mid air. "Magic~" she said playfully. I reached for my wallet, but she snatched it back, waggling a finger warningly at me, "No macho thing tonight," she said with a teasing air, tucking it back into her own pockets (I wondered for a moment why the hell she got to wear pants and I was stuck in a skirt), "you're all lady. I should know." she winked at me in a way that sent my cheeks alight again. "Tonight is on me," she said, tossing some money on the table and eying my plate. "Are you done?" I looked down at my waffles as if I hadn't seen them before and nodded with a slight sigh. I doubted I would be finishing this particular meal with all the uncomfortable uncertainty floating around in my stomach. "I think so," I said, pushing the plate away. "Maybe my...girly stomach is a bit smaller than I'm used to," I tried to force a smile but was pretty sure it just came off as making me look sick. Though I suppose that could have helped in convincing her I wasn't hungry. I saw, again, that slight flash of concern cross over her face, but she pushed it aside quickly and stood, "I'm sure Dance Berry has food," she said, shaking and twisting like she was dancing in the middle of the diner, drawing more attention to herself. She reached down and took my hand, "Come on! The night is still young!" I was dragged along at breakneck speed, through the diner, away from the staring, judging eyes of people that I now was positive were privy to exactly what we'd done in the bathroom together. I had never been so glad to leave a place in my life, but unfortunately, I wasn't sure if the place we were headed was any better...