The Role Exchanger 4
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The Role Exchanger: A New Case Of Study Part 1 free porn video
The Role Exchanger: A New Phase of Study (Part 1)
Note: I am an admirer of Morpheus and all his work. His Role Exchanger
stories are the obvious inspiration for this story. I can only hope that
I do his visions justice. Also, the tg elements are only barely uncovered
here, but I have every intention of incorporating that element more
decidedly in chapters to come.
The shimmering globe descended on the strange world again, its random
wandering leaving in its wake curious and profound changes to all it
encountered. Its effort to glean insight from these chance encounters
left it no closer to understanding. An idea began to form in the center
of its alien intellectual center, a notion that any hopes of
comprehending these utterly baffling being would only come from a
prolonged series of experiments and observations. Since these being were
highly social, singling out one subgroup (the concept of family being
bizarrely unfathomable to it)for extended study seemed to be the only
apparent pathway to unlocking the secrets to their motivations and
behavior. Preoccupied with its plannings, it drifted lazily into the
suburbs of a large urban center, passing numerous of these beings with
only passing awareness (though these "humans", as they identified
themselves as, were all too intensely aware of the freakish phenomena that
accompanied the presence of the entity, perhaps no more clearly
illustrated than the dumbfounded gapings of passerbys as they witnessed a
frail wisp of a seventy-two year old woman weaving deftly down the
sidewalk on a skateboard while some two hundred yards away a sixteen year
old boy, bent over so that no one would have guessed he was a six-footer,
shuffled painfully towards home, helmet still on his head, but now with a
cane in his newly gnarled hand). The globe allowed its intuition to guide
it along until it arrived at what the inhabitants of this world might
consider an attractive, well-maintained home where it sensed an intimate
interaction in progress. It drifted toward the source...
Sarah poked her head out the backdoor, a thin sheen of sweat on her
forehead. Her father was sitting back on a deck chair, feet up on another
chair, and he was listening to one of those 80's heavy metal bands he was
still so fond of. One hand was gripping the neck of a bottle of Beck's
that was tucked between his legs, the other was holding one of his
"stinky" cigars (for that was what Sarah thought of them) that he indulged
in, using the pretense that they kept away the mosquitoes and gnats. The
smell of freshly-mown grass intermingled with the distinctive smoke of the
cigar. He was staring out over the backyard, the king in his domain. He
looks like he's in a pretty decent mood, she thought to herself, probably
my best chance of getting his car tonight.
"Hey, Dad. Are you busy?" she asked.
"Hey, Sweetie. Nope, my job here is done...at least until next weekend," he
replied, looking at his daughter over his shoulder. "What can I do you
for?"
Sarah stepped out onto the porch and pulled a chair up beside her
father's, careful to stay upwind of his smoldering cigar. He watched her
as she did this, taking a languid drag on the cigar as he turned down the
volume on his radio. She was still in her running attire, her pink shorts
covering her tanned, shapely legs, and her white tank top had a crescent
of sweat right where it covered her ample breast that were neatly tucked
into a sports bra. Her dark hair was tied back in a ponytail, and as she
sat down in the chair, he again reflected (and not for the first time) how
uncannily like her mother she both looked and moved. Well, she might look
like her, he considered as he let out an exhale directed away from her
face and bringing the beer bottle to his lips, but, man, is she ever
different than she was when she was her age. The wealth of beauty both
possessed was undeniable. The perfect complexion accented by a tan. Those
irresistible baby blues that could melt any man's (especially a father's)
heart. That pert little nose framed by flawless cheekbones. The smile
that bedazzled those that bore witness to it. And although Sarah and her
mother both had been blessed with good hearts, whip-crack smarts, and
characters that made each of them a joy to know (at least the majority of
the time Sarah's father amended), Sarah did not seem to have any of the
wild streak which her mother exhibited when she was her daughter's age.
Sarah was about as straight-laced as a girl could come in this day,
highly-motivated and driven by a strong need to succeed. The resulting
discipline that she had developed as a result was a fact not lost on her
father, as he marveled at how his daughter could go out running in the
stifling heat and humidity five days before her graduation while most of
her classmates were probably lounging around in air conditioned rooms or
lying around on the beach up at Laurel Lake.
"Do you want a water?" he asked though he was reaching for one before she
could answer.
"That would be perfect," she responded gratefully, stealing a quick peek
at her iPhone to see if Sherri had responded to her earlier text. Her
father fished a Poland Springs out of his old-fashioned ice chest and
handed it to his daughter.
"Thank you," she sighed, wiping the icy bottle across her brow before
opening it and taking a long swig. " I did the cemetery circuit," she
paused," just under forty minutes." Her father gave a wide-eyed nod of
appreciation, clearly impressed by her accomplishment.
"Heck, took me over an hour to mow the lawn, and that's probably not even
a third of the distance. And I'm pretty much whipped for the rest of the
day" he said shaking his head, though a passing thought at least until
bedtime did bring a hint of a smile to his lips. He brought the cigar to
his lips again, eliciting the slightest of nose wrinkles from his
daughter, but she quickly smoothed it away before he could become
defensive.
"So, you and Mom going anywhere tonight?" she queried, though she was
already quite certain of the answer. Her dad was a Class A homebody, and
while he might go to occasional work functions, or take her mother out to
celebrate special occasions, he was much, much happier staying right here.
Especially on a Sunday night.
"Nahh- your mom got some shrimp for shrimp cocktail, and I'm planning on
grilling up some steaks and veggies. Why? What are you thinking?"
"Well, the last Hangover movie came out a couple weeks ago, and Sherri
and I had said that once finals were over and the track season was over
that we'd go see it before it left the theaters."
"Don't you have an exam tomorrow?" he asked this, but there wasn't a trace
of concern in his voice, just mild wonder that his daughter would deviate
from script by going out the night before an exam.
"I just have to hand in my take home test for Mrs. Zarek's class by ten.
I worked on it all last week and finished it up last night-"
"You did homework on a Saturday night!" her father teased her with mock
astonishment in his voice leading Sarah to just roll her eyes and smile.
"And what's the hell- heck- sorry," he grinned sheepishly at his slip,
"what's this hangover movie about. Except the obvious. You're not going
out drinking are you?"
Sarah gave her father her very best (and it was very good) Did-you-just-
ask-me-that look, and her father nearly spat out his mouthful of beer as
he tried not to laugh. He recalled a conversation last September when
he'd asked if she'd ever gone out drinking on the sly, and when she
responded that she'd never even tried alcohol, he had been reasonably
skeptical. He, of course, was drawing on his experiences in high school
with Julie, Sarah's mother, and considering the number of weekends they
had ended up wasted, his skepticism might be considered well-grounded.
But when Sarah insisted that not only had she not tried it, she really had
no intention to, he believed her. While he wasn't na?ve enough to think
she's never lied or deceived him, he was also aware that deceit and guile
were not in her character and she had always been that way. Oh, she is
so not her mother's child he mentally concluded yet again.
"As I was saying before you interrupted," she gave him a playfully stern
look, "I finished my test, and graduation rehearsal starts at ten. We
were thinking that we'd try that new restaurant with that mega-salad bar
before going to the 7:20 show. I figure I'll be home be home before ten."
"So are you looking for money?"
"Nah, I've got that covered...been stashing away my tip money." Sarah,
aside from being a stellar student, a pretty decent athlete, not to
mention being involved in a number of in school and out of school
activities, also had found time to hold down a weekend job at the diner a
few blocks away.
"What I was thinking is maybe you'd let me borrow the convertible?" It was
her turn now to give the sheepish smile and put those eyes of hers to good
use as she gave him the best pleading look she could muster. He frowned,
at least outwardly. On the inside he remarked on how much he enjoyed
tormenting his children in situations like this. He was, by all accounts
a softy, but he put enough bluster out to make moments like this so
delicious. He let her question hang in the air before...
"I don't know honey, I just got it back from the shop..." he let his words
trail off.
"I guess I can ask Mom to borrow hers," Sarah lips turned in
disappointment. She really tried to avoid her mother's car because she
smoked in it, and as much as her mother had done for her, this was one
area she made every effort to avoid relying on her mother's kindness.
"Ahh, I guess you can use it," he seemingly relented, though he had known
he would let her have it all along. Sarah practically leapt out of her
chair and embraced her father, as he artfully maneuvered his cigar away
from her and clamped his legs around his beer. He had only a moment to
take in the odd shimmering aspect the air around the porch had taken on
before his mind was swept by the oddest sensation he'd ever experienced.
He found his mind reeling as very distinctive shift took place in his
brain. He only barely noticed his daughter's rigidity as he embraced her,
and time took on a very elastic quality. With a shake of his head, he
tried to swim against the tide to recover his focus. That's when he
again became aware of the cigar between his fingers, and he almost dropped
it as a wave of disgust overtook it. Why am I holding his odious thing his
mind screamed at him. But before the thought could finish racing through
his head, his daughter plucked the cigar from him.
"You are the best," Sarah beamed at him, then took a sizable puff,
inhaling it deep into her lungs much like a seasoned smoker is prone to
do. She held it within her for several seconds, savoring it before
releasing it very purposefully away from him. The scent still reached his
nose causing him to recoil and his nose to wrinkle. She stepped away from
him, taking another hard drag, and casually reached for the remaining pack
her father had left on the patio table. "Well, I'm just going to finish
this before I go in to get showered and get ready for tonight."
"Don't let me stop you," he said with a laugh, and Sarah's father got up
from his chair. For some reason he had an immediate urge to go for a
little run himself, so he went inside the house in search of a reasonable
exercise outfit. Maybe I'll try the cemetery circuit myself he thought
absently. As her father made his exit, Sarah settled herself into the
seat her father had just vacated. She placed the cigar in her mouth,
puffing on it in a no hands style, letting the billowing clouds of smoke
join the air filled with the grassy scent. She reached for the bottle of
beer that her father had abandoned on the table, and turned up the volume
on the radio. Def Leppard's "Photograph" poured out of the speakers, and
she couldn't help but think how much she enjoyed this song; it reminded
her of when she was in high school which, to a casual observer, would have
been a very puzzling thought because until just a few moments before, she
was totally unfamiliar with the band or the song (her father had only that
morning found the box with his old cassette tapes in the basement when he
was looking for the lawnmower oil). She began to sing along, the lyrics
etched in her memory, occasionally breaking to take another puff or a sip
of beer. Jesus, a bottle of Beck's and a good cigar are just about the
best fucking combination she mused to herself as she stared off into the
backyard which was shrouded in a shimmering haze. I have a feeling that
this will be the best fucking summer ever.
Rowan
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