The Competitive Edge Playing The Game IIIChapter 2 Weston West Westy
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Just West Of Happy, Part 10 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.
I'm on a roll lately. Chapter 10 isn't particularly mile-stonish, but it
does get some things out in the open, namely defining some of putting
Melinda's...peculiarities and putting poor Ione on the spot with a difficult
decision. It's a short chapter, but it sets the tone for the next few. It
felt like a good place to end it, so I did. Hopefully you enjoy it!
As always, please visit me on Deviant Art at
http://whimsicaltales.deviantart.com/ for more frequent updates and to keep
up with my the goings on of my TG stories. Updates happen there first!
Just West of Happy, Part 10
By: Whimsy
The atmosphere was subdued and more than a little tense as Melinda and I
walked back to my room. I had almost come to think of it as our room after
only a few days with her, but a chasm of immense proportions seemed to have
grown between us after her last command. Or had it been a punishment? It was
hard to tell. Everything she'd done to me so far had made me feel
uncomfortable, but she'd never given me reason to doubt her intentions. But
the shower had changed all that. It was bad enough that she had made me give
a young man I'd never met a blow job-it was part of the game, after all-but
she'd given another random man one as well. The image of her on her knees in
front of another man was emblazoned in my brain. Right next to the image of
the penis I had stuffed into my mouth.
I could still taste the semen on the back of my throat and, given everything
that had happened, I felt like I was going to throw up.
Melinda seemed then, as she seemed in the bathroom, completely oblivious.
Clothed now, she walked down the hallway in much the same way as she had
walked down it on our way to the bathroom. We'd been naked then and the few
boys that had been fortunate enough to see us had gotten one of her playful
smiles, even a wave. She gave them the same treatment now, though they were
clearly disappointed that we were no longer showing more skin.
I could scarcely look at any of them. I was back to feeling like each and
every one of them would recognize me. I was not particularly popular on
campus, but most people on my floor knew me, if only as that creepy shut-in
who didn't have enough friends to move out of the dorm during his junior
year. I could only imagine what they knew me as now...and I felt the bile
rising in my throat when I thought about what they would think of me when
the word got out of what I'd done.
Melinda held the door open for me, giving me a pleasant smile as I strode
past her. I barely looked at her, still waffling between disgust at what I'd
done and betrayal at what she'd done. I wasn't sure what feeling would
dominate me more, so I settled for dazed confusion. That always seemed like
a safe bet. I could tell Melinda was testing the waters by holding the door
open and smiling at me, trying to see if I was still angry, if I would snap
at her again. It seemed like a dangerous prospect while she wore the gold
ring, but she'd never given me a reason to fear for my health or safety.
She'd promised to protect me, that nothing bad would happen to me. But I was
beginning to wonder what exactly constituted "bad" to her. I reminded myself
with a deep, spine-quaking shudder that she'd stopped George from raping me
and the anger in her face then, but was that simply the nature of the act?
Would she stop someone she didn't know and was not already predisposed to
hate from doing...that to me? Or someone who was attempting to have sex with
me on her terms?
I realized with a jolt that I had been lost in my own hypothetical
questions. Melinda was watching me with a rapidly deteriorating smile. I had
been staring at the wall.
"We could go out and get that breakfast," she said, her voice still
tentatively cheery, testing my response.
I turned my stare at her. I wasn't exactly sure what exactly I'd managed to
school my features to look like or even how that expression looked on my
long, girlish features, but it didn't seem to sit well with Melinda, who
quickly said, "Nothing bad happened!"
"You made me suck a man's dick," I shot back, a little harsher than I'd
intended considering that wasn't the biggest thing that was bothering me.
"Well, you're a girl!" Melinda shot back, her own voice a bit hotter.
"That's what girls do!"
My voice faltered a bit at that extremely strange response, but I soldiered
on,"You sucked another man's dick!"
"I'm a girl too!" she responded, perhaps predictably but no less
troublingly, tossing her mane of completely-dry brown hair over her shoulder
as if to prove the point. "Or didn't you notice?!"
I just gaped at her, not quite believing what she was saying. It was one
thing for a guy like George to think and talk this way about women, but
Melinda? Who had been born a woman? A strange, fleeting idea crossed my mind
and I wondered if Melinda had been born a woman, but I tried to push it
aside. I couldn't ponder all the infinite possibilities of magic just then.
I had more troubling concerns.
"Why did you make me a woman?" I asked again, not sure I would get a
different response than the one she'd given me last night.
"Why not?" she answered predictably. Unlike last night, however, there was a
tone of defiance in her voice rather than the one of evasiveness last night.
"I told you! I wanted to try--"
"And we did," I retorted, interrupting her. "We did try it."
"And it was fun!"
She had me there, I had to admit. Sex as a man had been amazing, but even
the little fondling we'd done last night had blown my mind. Perhaps it was
because I had jerked off a hundred hundred times as a man and knew, quite
intimately, what a male orgasm felt like, but the female one seemed so fresh
and all-consuming. I couldn't deny that I enjoyed it.
"That's not the point," I went on, my tone a little less sharp.
"Then what is, Ione?" she asked, exasperated. "What IS the point? You're
always asking and worrying and fretting. When are you just going to enjoy
things the way they are? When are you going to stop worrying and just have
fun?"
I gaped at her, wondering how she could have so completely missed the point.
She continued to stare back at me with a defiant expression and I did my
best to return it, feeling a swell of something very much like obstinacy in
my gut. At least, I assumed it was obstinacy. I'd never really felt it
before.
"Do you love me?" I finally asked.
She threw up her hands. "God, Ian, how can you--"
"Because you turned me into a woman and sucked another guy's dick in front
of me!" I shrieked, finally feeling my temper flaring. "How am I supposed to
feel?!"
"Like we're having fun!" Melinda shot back in much the same tone. "At least
I thought we were. Was I wrong?"
"No," I returned the verbal volley. "But I thought we were having fun
together because we loved each other."
"What does love have to do with anything?"
My retort died in my throat and my look of outrage turned to a pained
expression. What did love have to do with anything? Had she really said
that?
She seemed to realize what she'd said and quickly looked down, allowing her
hair to hide her face. "I didn't mean it like that, Ione. Ian," she
corrected on her own, having to put effort into reminding herself of my male
name due to the normalization of the magic that altered my gender.
"Do you love me?" I asked in a whisper, feeling my eyes stinging. I winced a
bit at the quiver in my voice, the pleading. I'd never heard my voice like
that, male or female, but a horrible pit opened in the bottom of my stomach
and, through it, all the happy feelings I'd had over the last few days was
starting to circle like so much bathwater.
"I do," she answered with such certainty and swiftness that I couldn't deny
the authenticity of what she'd said. "Why do you even doubt that?"
"Because you...in the bathroom," I stammered, still fighting back tears.
She stared at me then, after a moment, a sort of dawning seemed to light in
her eyes. "You think," she began in a slow, methodical voice, sounding like
someone trying to solve a complicated math problem without the use of
calculators, paper, or even numbers. "I loved him?"
I didn't answer. Of course when she put it like that-I had no doubt she
didn't love that man. She'd never met him.
"No, but--" I muttered, my voice trailing off.
"What does any of that have to do with love?" she asked blankly. "If I'd had
sex with him right then and there, that wouldn't have had anything to do
with love. Sex isn't love, Io-Ian. I thought you knew that."
It made a sort of twisted sense when she said it like that, but...
"But sex is something you share with the person you love," I offered in a
small voice, trying to figure out complex math of my own. "I always thought-
-"
It occurred to me then, in the same way a wrecking ball occurs to a
condemned building, that Melinda, who was watching me with something akin to
confusion, simply didn't think like that. And it made a sort of bizarre
sense. She'd told me on our first night that she could use magic as a sort
of birth control. It stood to reason that she could stop herself from
contracting STDs. So the risk of sex, the part of the act that forced people
on a supremely logical level to be quite certain, quite bonded with the
person they performed it with, was all but gone for her. So it wasn't so
outrageous to imagine her thinking of sex as something completely physical,
like going to the bathroom or eating. Something which she did for the
release of a bodily function.
It made a sort of twisted sense to me suddenly. I suddenly felt like I
understood. I wasn't sure I approved just yet, or accepted it. The thought
of her traipsing out into the hall, pushing a guy up against the wall and
fucking him still filled me with a very peculiar sort of fluster that I'd
never felt before. But at least I finally got it.
But there was still one thing that was bothering me.
"Why did you turn me into a woman?" I asked again, more insistently this
time. I wanted an answer. It didn't make any sense. If it was all about sex,
she shouldn't care one way or another.
She made a strangled sound of frustration, her compromising, helpful
attitude gone as quickly as it came. "God damnit!" she cursed. "Because I
thought you would enjoy it! I wanted things to be like in our games, Ione!"
I blanched, nearly doing a double take, which would have been quite a feat
considering I'd been looking at her in the first place.
"You always gravitated towards playing the woman," she continued, her tone a
bit more muttering now. "It's what you enjoyed, it's what turned you on. I
could tell."
"You always wanted to play the boys," I said in a bit of a fluster, my
cheeks burning. Had she assumed I'd wanted to be a girl all along?
I blinked. Had I?
"Every time you played a boy," she went on as if I hadn't spoken, sounding
more resigned now. "I felt like you were forcing it for my sake. Like you
felt I needed to have a man in the mix. I didn't want to correct you because
I wasn't sure what you wanted. But you never...well, you never got into it.
You were born a man, but you seemed curious, even excited to see what it was
like to be a woman. So I planned on giving you the chance while I was here.
I turned you back this morning to give you a break, to get your bearings
back, but...well, you challenged me! I would be remiss as a mistress if I'd
let that slide," she preened.
I stared at her as she spoke, wondering if she didn't know me at all or if
it was I who had no idea what I'd wanted. It was true, of course. I'd
naturally gravitated towards the female role. Melinda and I had usually
pretended to be a heterosexual couple in our games online, but it had been
I, not her, that had been the girl. Had I given her the wrong impression? Or
the right one?
I flopped onto the bed, my gaze sweeping to the wall. Melinda watched me,
her expression no longer angry, no longer exasperated, but curious.
"I thought you were just too shy to say," she finally said after a long
moment. "You do seem very shy, Ione. Was I wrong?"
I didn't answer. I didn't know the answer.
She finally sat down next to me, a sudden smile on her face. "I'll tell you
what," she said, headbutting me in the shoulder and nuzzling me almost
insistently. "You're going to be a woman for a whole week. No ifs, ands, or
butts about it. No breaks. No begging. No pleading. I'm not going to make it
easy on you, either. You're getting the whole shebang," she blinked and
giggled suddenly. "She bang!"
I turned a bright crimson. "Melinda, I--"
"Unless you tell me now!" she said, almost sounding compromising again,
which always confused me. "If you say so, I'll turn you back into a dude and
we shall never speak of this again! You can bone me six ways to Sunday and
be all tough and macho and everything and I'll never sully your machismo
with estrogen again!"
I blanched. "Wh-when have I ever been macho?"
She grinned and shrugged and watched me mull her decision over. If she'd
asked me an hour ago, I would have made the decision with no problem. I'd
have told her to make me a man. Last night had been amazing, but I wouldn't
have given it a second thought. But now...she'd given me a lot to think
about. I wondered once again if she knew me better than I knew myself.
"A whole week?" I asked, a tentative quiver in my voice.
"Until Sunday next week when I have to drive back to college," she said with
a sage nod. "If you want, you can fuck my brains out as a dude before I
leave as compensation. But I won't change you back all week, no matter how
much you beg."
I blushed profusely again. "Wh-what about classes?"
Melinda rolled her eyes in exasperation. "do I have to go over normalization
again? Your teachers will think you've been in classes all along, Ione. And
every time they look at their attendance sheets, they'll see Ione West!
Everyone will remember you as Ione. Ian will have never existed."
The idea made me a bit sad until I realized no one had known Ian existed in
the first place.
In the end, I couldn't pretend it was a difficult choice. It wasn't
permanent. One week as a woman, while it would have seemed like a punishment
an hour or so ago, seemed more like an exploratory expedition now. Or like I
was testing out a new outfit. Or test driving a new car.
I felt dizzy with the possibilities. Was there a chance I would never be a
man again? That I would never be Ian again?
Why did that idea simultaneously terrify AND thrill me?
"One week," I said. I could barely look at her, feeling a bit sick that I
was just signing my gender over to her for a week and worrying that this was
some sort of test, that she would laugh at me for not being manly or strong
enough for her.
I couldn't have been more wrong. A wide grin split her face and she
veritably tackled me, pushing me back on the bed and mashing her lips into
mine. "Done!" she said. "I've put a condition into the rings. Nothing I do
for seven whole days will change your gender. I couldn't do it even if I
wanted to. Aww!" She suddenly looked forlorned and disappointed about
something.
I blinked up to her, frowning with concern and a little wariness. "What is
it?" I asked, fearing she'd done something wrong. Had she made it
permanent?!
"I can't give you a penis now," she whined with an overly dramatic toss of
her hands. "I wanted some futanari action this week!"
My confusion must have been apparent, for she giggled with a malicious air.
"It means dickgirl, sweety," she said, ravishing my neck with kisses while I
digested what she'd just told me.
I felt like our week together had only just started. And that it was the
first day of the rest of my life. And, in a way, it kind of was...
Lesley
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