The Golden Gloom - RICH free porn video

THE GOLDEN GLOOM RICH by Emma Finn BEFORE THE CHANGE 1 JANE Ricky and I scrunched down in our seats when the couple emerged from the front door of their palatial manor house and walked to the BMW parked out front. There was still no way that we could be seen yet - there were fifty yards of drive down to the tall spiked gates - but it paid to be safe. Husband and wife; the couple exuded wealth and class but they were still too far away for a clear look. Their car had been packed beforehand and they were clearly leaving now finally. The gates opened by remote as the BMW coasted quietly down toward it and they turned left, out and up the road. I edged even further down into the passenger seat but I risked a little peep, enough to glimpse their faces as they drove away. The husband was portly, his hair receding, but he wore an impeccably cut expensive suit. He was in his mid to late forties or early fifties. The woman wasn't visible behind him. As the car pulled off, Ricky shifted higher in the driver's seat beside me, getting edgier. I glanced across the road. The tall gates weren't yet closed but they would start to any second. "Come on," he said. "Let's do this. You coming?" "No. Drive after them," I replied. "Eh?" "Drive. Come on. We need to be sure." "The gates are open!" he snapped. "It's gonna be a real bastard to get in there after they close. We should run now!" "That isn't the plan. Follow their car." "What plan?" he asked, clearly more exasperated and starting to sweat. "When do I get to hear this plan?" I took his bony wrist. The skin was hot to the touch. "You already know it. Just trust me. We have to do this my way." "But the gates..." "We'll get in the safe. We'll get the money," I said. "Just not right now. We need something off them first and we have to follow them to get it. Alright?" Ricky looked like he was going to pop a blood vessel in his eye. The tips of his greasy hair were damp, clinging to his skin. His hands were shaking. "Alright." He struck the creaky old car into drive and went after them, the engine squealing as it struggled to accelerate quickly enough to catch the other car up. Behind us the gates of the manor slowly swung closed as I fingered the folded up slip of paper in my pocket, wondering how Ricky would react when he finally found out I was lying. 2 JANE We got our first really good look at the rich couple inside the airport. I had been about right in my first estimation. The man was probably in his early fifties, dressed in a finely tailored three piece suit: grey jacket and trousers; waistcoat, silver chain from his pocket watch tucked into the waistcoat pocket; shiny black shoes. He was well overweight, but the comfortable living and good tailoring made him carry it well. His hair was not yet fully grey but was receding at the front; a semi-circle of hair at the top of his forehead was wispy, showing the pale skin underneath. He looked distinguished and mature. He looked well-bred and very very wealthy. The comparison to Ricky couldn't have been more profound. Ricky was wiry and gaunt, his big rough-skinned hands thrust into his pockets, the tattoos visible on his hairy forearms on account of the creased and dirty T-shirt he was wearing. His jeans hung off his bony pelvis as he stood uncomfortably, unable to settle quietly he was so agitated. And the woman; the wealthy wife; was every bit the contrast to me. I, like Ricky, was in my mid-twenties. I was athletic and trim but conscious of the poor state of myself, my shaggy mane of dirty blond hair, my low cut stretch top, denim cut-offs and sandals, sunglasses slid up like a hair band on top of my head. The rich woman was younger than her husband by about ten years - probably early forties. She had dark hair cut into a perfectly sleek bob, the fringe straight and low, touching the upper curves of her thick glasses. She wasn't fat but she was rather plump, her neck just a single neat fold of sagging flesh. She wore a sleeveless V-necked sweater and a long skirt that stopped just above her ankles and the fabulously expensive court shoes she was wearing. In her ears were tiny delicate diamond earrings, again contrasting sharply with the gold hoops that I wore herself. Ricky and I watched them bypass the queues and check in their baggage at the gold standard flyer booth as I continued to play with the folded paper in my pocket. I wondered what would happen if I took it out and read the odd foreign- looking words here in such a public place. But I had no intention of doing that. All my research told me that calm and quiet were the watchwords with the Golden Gloom. It required intense concentration to work correctly. I had no intention of wrecking it. "Okay, get ready," I whispered. "When they circle round to go through the doors. Take them then." Ricky grinned, reminding me exactly why I loved him - that delightfully roguish charm - then set off, getting into position as the couple returned holding only their hand luggage now. It was like witnessing perfection. Ricky's hands were the cleverest I'd ever known - in many more ways than this one. He was the best pickpocket I'd ever seen. He lifted the keys from the man's inside pocket with barely a nudge. Neither one of them had any idea the theft had taken place and by the time they did they would be thousands of miles away if Ricky and I were lucky. Ricky slipped back up to me and dangled the bunch of keys near his ear, grinning from ear to ear. "Fancy a drive in a Beamer?" 3 JANE Ricky and I coasted in luxurious comfort up to the gate of the manor house in the stolen BMW and I pushed the button for the gate remote that had been fitted into the dashboard. No fumbling with remote controls for these people. No. They had money coming out of their ears. We drove up to the front of the manor and popped a second button to open the garage. This was the smart play. It meant that peering neighbours likely wouldn't get a glimpse of us at all - wouldn't call the police until after we were home and dry. As the garage door clunked into place, we grinned at one another. There was nothing to stop us now. Nothing at all. "Let's roll this fucking place," said Ricky, visibly shaking as he got out the car, bashing the door against the wall and not even glancing back at it; like he cared so little about the property of others that it didn't even register at all. I looked to the heavens but more because it was a shame to wreck such a beautiful vehicle. I didn't give a shit about the cost to the owners. They clearly had way more money than they bastard needed. We let ourselves into the house and started creeping round, checking out the opulence that was everywhere there: crystal chandeliers, polished floors; marble table; priceless antiques on every surface. On the wall in the huge lounge was an oil painting scaled to the life size of the owners. The woman was sitting down in it, the husband standing beside her. As she'd been at the airport, her overripe arms were bare, hands gathered in her lap. The man's portly form was dressed in another immaculately tailored suit, his thinning hair showing the shine of bare skin on his extended forehead. It was one more show-off of how rich they were in a house full of signs all saying, "Look at me! I cost thousands! We're the richest people on earth!" It made me want to poison them for being such fucking hoarders while I'd grown up with nothing in the seediest back street of Barton. It almost made me angry enough to want to abandon the actual plan and just do that: just fuck them over... maybe steal some shit and then kill them when they got back - do the world a favour. But I wasn't going to do that. I was going to stick to the plan. "These fuckers are worth a mint!" shouted Ricky, coming back through holding what had to be a Ming vase. "Look at this shit!" He hurled it overarm at the dining room table, knocking the candelabra onto the floor and bouncing it into the far wall where it shattered. "I bet that cost more than my dad earned in his whole worthless life!" He laughed, pulling a painting of the Taj Mahal off the wall and ramming it down onto a sculpture of a tree so that a hole got punched through it, then laughed even louder. I scowled. "Shut up. I have to concentrate. Give me a minute." I took out the paper from my pocket and unwrapped it. "Fuck that," said Ricky. "Let's go and open the safe!" "No. Shut it. This is why we're here." Ricky cocked his head, scrutinizing the torn little notebook page over my shoulder. "What is it? The combination?" "No. Just shut up for a minute." On the paper were five words, each one difficult to pronounce, almost gibberish. They weren't in English or any other language I'd seen on TV but I knew-- I hoped that they'd do what they were supposed to do. "We have to read this out together. At the same time," I said. "Why?" "Because we do. Just do it." Ricky glowered at me, his hands wringing into fists down by his hips, and I wondered if I'd already pushed my luck with him too far again. He could be a nasty mother fucker if he wanted to be - a really nasty piece of work. I softened my tone - becoming more coaxing. "Because if we do this then we won't be a couple of thieves wanted by the police and living on the run; we'll actually own all this stuff. This'll be our house. Legally." "Don't shit me. I hate people shitting me." "I'm not shitting you. Just trust me for five seconds. What's the worst that can happen? It's just words on a bit of paper." I didn't mention where I'd got them. It didn't matter. All it would do was confuse him. "What is this?" said Ricky. I sighed. "It's a fucking magic spell, you spastic; alright? Just read the magic fucking words with me when I fucking tell you." "This is bollocks." I touched his arm. "Then it's bollocks. Humour me for a minute. Read the words. Then if nothing happens we'll knock over the safe and get out of here. Okay?" The idiot's eyes clouded for a few seconds as what passed for his brain ticked slowly round, then he turned his attention to the paper, all resistance gone apparently. He really was a dipshit when it came right down to it. But I had needed him to get inside and he was the best lay I'd ever had. I gave him a nod and we both read the weird words out on the paper in a flurry. I felt queasy right away but nothing else happened. There was just silence... and that weird ragged breathing Ricky always did. Then a shudder went through the house: not a physical beat or tremor - nothing like that. It was more like a sigh. Like the house sagged; the light dimming a little. I glanced down at the paper in my hand then away. Then I looked at it again. It was smoldering. Crisping. Burning. "What the fuck?" I let go of the notepaper before it could burn my hand but it floated, smoke coming right off it. Then suddenly it popped into flame and burned away. "What happened?" asked Ricky in a little panic. "What the fuck happened?" I watched the remaining smoke rise toward the ceiling, the paper now completely gone. Then I turned to him and smiled. "It fucking worked. That's what happened." THE CHANGE 4 JANE "What worked?" snapped Ricky sullenly. "The magic spell. The Golden Gloom." "Huh? What you talking about? Magic doesn't work. Any fucker can tell you that." "Then why did the paper catch fire genius? It worked. I'm telling you." Ricky looked confused. And angry. Like he might even get violent again. I quickly took his hand in mine and squeezed it. "Just imagine for a minute what it would be like to live in this house." "Huh?" "That's how the magic works. You imagine what you want to happen and it happens." "Like..." "Like... Aladdin. And the genie. You know. You make a wish." "For anything?" "No. To live here. That's why we had to come inside. We aren't going to rob the place. This is all going to be ours. It won't be that fat fucker and his frumpy wife with their names on the deed; it'll be us." "Bollocks." "No. Look it doesn't matter. You don't have to believe it. Let's just both imagine what it would be like to live in this house. How great it would be to own all this stuff. To sleep in a gigantic bed with silk sheets." Ricky hesitated and then smiled a little as he murmured, "To never have to work again?" "Yeah." I thought for a minute. "To be respected and looked up to." "To be able to buy whatever I want." The room suddenly became darker. "What was that?" asked Ricky. "Nothing. Just focus. What else? Why would you want to own this place?" Ricky looked up at the painting on the wall of the couple who lived there. "To be able to spend all day long gabbing with me mates." I nodded, watching the room get darker and darker; seeing the darkness ripple up my own body and down my arms. "To be so rich I can tell people what to do and they do it." "To just lounge about all day, lying in late and then swimming in the pool whenever I feel like it." I raised my arms in front of me, marveling at the strange rippling energy that was passing over them then gave a little gasp as I saw my arms shift, growing thicker as though I was suddenly wearing long sleeves instead of my skimpy top. I felt so warm and dizzy; drunk almost; reveling in a really delightful fantasy that I really owned this house; that I'd bought and paid for it; that I hadn't had to steal the money - that it was rightfully mine. Then the black ripples passed down my arms, leaving the long sleeves of a suit, and into my hands and fingers. The hands thickened, fingers growing shorter and thicker and my eyes gaped open, staring, unsure for a moment what it meant. Then suddenly my perspective of the room shifted like I'd just climbed up onto a box. Like I was taller. My torso thickened. I grabbed at it with my big manish hands, feeling the front of a business suit stretched over a broad fat belly; feeling a pocket watch tucked into a pocket at the front of the waistcoat I was now wearing! I looked up at the portrait of the couple who owned the house and realized with horror that I'd made a mistake when I researched the Golden Gloom. It wasn't changing things to make the house be owned by me; it was changing me quite literally into the owner of the house! I put my hands to the side of my face in horror and felt the double chin and the light prickle of a cleanly shaven face. "My God." I was turning into the husband! And if it was doing this to me then what was it doing to Ricky? 5 RICKY I listed things for Jane that I might wish for but it didn't distract from the increasing bastard scratch of my need for a fix - like it ever really went away now. I wasn't a complete moron. I knew I'd screwed my life up beyond saving. I knew what she was spilling was bullshit but for half a second I really let myself imagine that Jane was telling the truth - really think what it would be like to get away from my life as a junkie and a fuck-up... to be the kind of person who lived in this kind of wanking over-the-top luxury. I imagined how great it would be to live peacefully in this manor house, feeling looked after for a change; to watch daytime TV and relax in long baths; to have the life of luxury I felt I deserved. And that was when the rippling started for me as the light from outside went dim and wide tiger stripes ran up and down my body: moving; concealing. Changing. I noticed a sense of fullness round my stomach and when I looked down my T-shirt was pushed out, my normally boney-thin stomach looking rounded. The rippling was in my fingers and my arms and I realised in a flare of panic that I'd finally done it somehow. I'd fucked my brain up but good for the last time and now it was splitting apart. This was the last thing I was going to see before I had an aneurism or something even worse. But there was no pain. If anything the junkie scratching was receding, letting my veins become loose; no longer taut and stretched. Then there was another flood of shadow pouring over my body and limbs and I stopped trying to figure out what was happening. I just gawped at what I was seeing. My short sleeves were flapping like a wind was blowing through them, my wiry arms held out in front of me. Then the sleeves receded right up to expose my shoulders and my arms expanded in one sudden surge, like balloons filled with a big gush of air. My hands were getting slimmer, the fingers lengthening and I turned, whispering the words, "What the fuck," as I saw my new almond-shaped nails painted a deep red. I looked across at Jane in a panic but Jane wasn't standing there. I let out a cry of fear when I saw who was. It was the man from the picture; from the airport - the man who owned this place. Except he was staring back at me in horror and the same magical rippling was passing all over his body too as his beer gut expanded, pushing his suit jacket and waistcoat out; as his double chin grew rounder. Then I looked down again at myself to see what had been my T-shirt - but was now some kind of dark red sleeveless sweater - press outward on my chest to form tits. Fucking tits pressing out of my chest! And then if I hadn't known it beforehand I knew it now as I pawed at them with my new woman's hands then looked first at the man across from me and then up at that picture on the wall with my mouth hanging open. I gaped at the couple who were posed there in the painting, at the portly businessman and his overweight middle-aged wife in her red polo-necked sleeveless sweater; her dark bobbed hair and the thick round glasses. Then as I focused on the specs there was a rippled blurring of my vision and a weight appeared on my face. I reached up and felt for it and my dainty fingers found the round frames and thick lenses then dropped to smooth cheeks and silky almost shoulder-length hair. "Jesus Christ," I gasped and it wasn't my voice; it was a woman's voice; and I turned back to who I knew now was Jane as her terrified eyes stared back at me. Then in a blinding rush, the shadows that were gripping us, swiping at us and holding us off balance swept down the lengths of our bodies and they were gone. And we were both just gasping and trying to catch our breath and looking at one another as the full impact of what had happened sunk in. 6 JANE I was a man! A man! This was all wrong! It hadn't meant to be like this! Not at all! I had big man's hands and I was wearing a suit. I felt my big stomach, following the girth right round the side of my torso and into my back; my stocky solid chest. It was a dull green jacket and waistcoat with matching trousers, shiny black shoes. What had been slim bare legs in denim cut-offs were now thick manly legs. I felt the thighs, the curious soft hardness of a man's muscles covered in fat, then, hesitating for only a second, I put my hand to my crotch and through the expensive fabric felt the tubular bulge of a man's penis, paling. Worse was that simultaneous sensation from the other side, completely alien to me of this big hand closing around what shouldn't be there but undeniably was. "Fuck me," I said, and it was a deep man's voice that came from my mouth. I covered my lips with my hand but that didn't reduce the shock; it exacerbated it as I touched the slight invisible omnipresent stubble of a man's upper lip. "Jane? Is that fucking you?" I turned my head to where the woman's voice had come from and saw her - an exact duplicate of the woman in the painting, in the same sleeveless polo neck; the same a-line skirt and matching court shoes. It was Ricky. I knew it was. It had to be. But it didn't look like Ricky anymore in the slightest. It looked like her; like the wife. It was the wife. It was an overweight middle-aged woman with thick round glasses and straight brown hair. "Jane, speak to me," she said, and though her voice was one that I didn't recognize, the accent and intonation was all Ricky. "Fucking speak to me you stupid slag or-- whatever the fuck you are now. Is that fucking you?" "Yes! It's me!" I cried in this thick weird manly voice. "It's me Ricky... Jane." She... or he... she... Ricky took a wavering step toward me and I thought for a second she was going to topple forward on her face in those heels, but her foot came down surely. "What happened? What's wrong with us? Was it that spell? It must have been!" I stepped forward too. "Ricky. I don't know why this happened. It wasn't meant to do this. It was meant to change... reality. To change things so that we owned this house and all this stuff. It wasn't meant to transform us into the owners - into them." I pointed at the painting. "Well it did, you idiot. It fucking did change us into them! Look at us! I'm a woman! I'm a fucking old woman! I've gotta be forty years old at least! You stupid fucking idiot! Look at me!" She touched her hair and her face, her round arms, her glasses. "This is real! I'm really her! A woman!" "Take it easy. We have to keep calm. We have to figure this out." I reached toward her but caught sight of my hand and arm and lost the flow for a second, bewildered by it. I didn't know exactly what I'd expected to happen but this was a long way from it. "Take it easy? Take it easy! Are you fucking loaded!? Look at me! I'm as old as my mum! I could actually be someone's mum! I'm a woman for Christ's sake!" Tears were coming to her eyes and I reached for her, putting my hands on her fleshy shoulders. "It's okay. It's going to be okay." "How? How is it going to be okay? Look at us!" "It's alright," I said. "Come here. It's alright." I pulled her up to my chest. She was almost a full head shorter than me, even in the heels and I enfolded her in my long arms. "It's okay darling. It's going to be okay." "I'm scared Jane. I don't know what the hell's happening. I don't like this," she whimpered, settling in against me as I drew her close, enfolding her in an embrace. And it was only then that I realised what we'd done. That this woman in my arms, that I knew was really Ricky, had reached out for my comfort and feeling protective I had reassured her and embraced her as though I were really her husband. 7 RICKY I was shaking, feeling so afraid and insecure but it felt so good to be held, even if it made me feel the change that had happened to me all the more. It felt weird to be the shorter one, to be embraced by a tall man. I should have felt homosexual panic, but I didn't. I told myself it was because I knew this man was really Jane, but at another level I didn't even think about it. I just felt like I needed the comfort and this man I cared about was here to give it to me, to crush me to his chest and make me feel small and protected. I felt choked up, overwhelmed by emotions that I couldn't understand. I'd never felt like this; so unsure of myself and desperate for... something... for someone else to... I didn't know. I just didn't know what to do. "It's going to be okay," said the man... Jane. "We just have to figure this out for a minute and keep calm." He pulled me away from his chest and looked down into my eyes. "Can you do that?" I nodded. "I think so." I wiped my eye. "But why has this happened?" He released me and stepped away, leaving me instantly at a loss, wishing he hadn't let go. "I didn't think it was supposed to work like this. The Golden Gloom." "The what?" "It doesn't matter. I was sure it would change things but leave us the same but obviously I got it wrong." It was so freaky to hear Jane talk in a man's voice, to look like that. He looked so completely different that my brain didn't want to label him as Jane. I didn't know what to call him but Jane didn't fit. He was "the man" somehow; just "the man." And he seemed so calm. I was all over the place but he sounded in control; confident... manly. "Are we stuck like this?" He turned to face me. "I don't know. I don't think we should be. Not while the magic is still active if my reading meant anything at all - though I'm starting to doubt it did." He paused, musing, looking down at himself. "It's unbelievable. It's so complete!" I looked at myself, at the loose flesh on the back of my bare arm; the rings on my fingers, the diamond wedding ring; the slim silver lady's watch on my wrist. "Well how the hell do we turn back? I don't want to be stuck like this." I lifted the glasses away from my eyes and my vision instantly clouded to a thick blur. "I'm blind without these things! I don't want to be old. I don't want to be a fucking woman!" "Okay, just calm down for a second," said the man. "Listen to me. We can do this. I'll tell you how it works." "How what works?" "The magic." I nodded, sitting on the sofa arm, but when I put my hands on my knees I felt the bare skin and looked down at the light reflected on the shiny hairless skin, startled and unsettled by what I was seeing and feeling. "It works by focusing on what you want," he said. "Which is what must have happened to us. Think about it. I wanted to own the house - to be respected - to be in charge of people. Now I've turned into the husband - some big-shot businessman who has all that." "Well I didn't want to be a woman." "No. But you said you wanted to shop and spend the day chatting with friends; to swim in the pool." "To be looked after and enjoy luxury. Like a rich fucking housewife. Fuck. You're right." "In a fucked up way, this is what we wished for." I looked up at the painting then back at him. "Then how do we bloody undo it?" He thought for a minute. "By doing the opposite. By thinking what was good about our real lives. That has to be the way." I wasn't so sure. "And you think it will work?" He looked me right in the eye. "Well if it doesn't then we're going to be stuck this way." 8 JANE "Listen," I said, "I'll go first, make sure it works. Then you can go; alright?" "I guess." Ricky nodded her head, the sleek bobbed hair swinging from side to side. She readjusted her glasses and looked at me expectantly. "Are you sure this will work?" I was going to say, fucked if I know, but I didn't. Instead, keeping a measured tone I said, "Of course. Don't worry." I had one last look down at my strange bulky body then closed my eyes, creasing my brow as I tried to concentrate on what was good about my life as Jane - why I didn't want to be this man. I was maybe twenty five years younger for a start and pretty sexy, even if I wasn't one of these well dressed professional types. I pictured my slim hairless arms and my long legs and my face and told myself how much I wanted to be a woman again; to be young. I didn't own a mansion but I was healthy and had my entire life ahead of me. For a second it crossed my mind that maybe being the man would be preferable because I'd be rich, but I put that out of my mind and though harder, really visualizing myself as I wanted to be. My eyes popped open as I felt it - the Golden Gloom - rippling again on my body, just as Ricky, still in his woman's voice, said, "It's happening!" I kept the focus as much as I could but if anything, seeing the change start to happen helped to accelerate it. I could see my womanly form showing through as my thick arms slimmed down and the relief boosted the motivation in my mind to change back. My thick flabby belly contracted as I pressed my newly slender fingers into it, my clothes transforming back into the trashy stuff I'd had on when I arrived. My hair was growing out, getting longer again but it shook and flowed like there was a strong wind lifting it. My height dropped, disappointing me a little and I staggered to the side as once again the gloom flushed out my system and swept away, leaving me in my former shape. I was breathing heavily, feeling wired and buzzy but felt fantastic like I'd just come off the back of a roller coaster. "There," I said, putting my hands on my hips and striking a sexy pose. "Piece of cake!" Ricky had a slender hand pressed to one cheek and was just staring, her lips parted slightly. "It's un-fucking-believable." I looked at her startled. It seemed stranger now to see this woman who looked exactly like the owner of the house, peering at me through her thick glasses. There was something off about her pose; a slight masculinity maybe, and obviously the choice of words had been wrong; but apart from that she really looked like a middle aged woman, not like Ricky at all. It was highly disconcerting and it didn't help that my gut was telling me to scarper before she called the police, despite knowing that she wouldn't. "And that's going to work the same for me?" asked Ricky. I nodded. "No reason it shouldn't. From what I read, there's a time limit to how long it can go on working but I think it's twenty four hours - something like that." "Okay." Ricky held his arms out so he could see them. "I just tell myself that I want to turn back?" "And why. You have to think about what's good about your real body; and life." Ricky frowned. "Fucking nothing's good. My life's in the pissing toilet. Except for being with you." I gave him a little sad smile. "Well you don't want to be a woman in your forties, right?" "No I fucking don't." "Well there you go. Just concentrate on being a bloke again." She closed her eyes tightly and I looked her up and down, freely now without having to feel I was staring. It was just unreal, knowing it was Ricky in there. With her standing straight there was absolutely no indication that she wasn't exactly what she looked like. Then the light dimmed, even the sunlight coming in from outside, the air taking on a syrupy sunset-light consistency, and the shadows stole over Ricky's body, concealing the changes that were taking place as her body slimmed down but grew taller at the same time. The glasses disappeared and the hair withdrew, then in a final flicker of shadow and light the room went back to normal and Ricky was just standing there like his old self, staring down at himself then back at me. "Holy shit," he said. "That was the weirdest fucking thing I've ever done." I flashed him a grin, then sobered; because weird experience or not, this had been one total fuck-up actually. We were still standing in these fuckers' house and the Golden Gloom had been a big flopping waste of time. "We've screwed this up," I said. "What you talking about?" said Ricky, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. "It's a bust," I said. "All this wealth and we can't touch it." "What the fuck are you on? We can just steal stuff." "In the back of a two-seater BMW? Think about it. What can we take? We don't know the safe combination. We aren't safe crackers. Everything that's worth anything in here is going to be too big to take. The woman's jewelry maybe but that's probably locked away too. We've fucked this up, and if we're not careful we're going to get busted." "Fuck," said Ricky. "Well we ain't leaving without nothing. Let's just--" A buzzer rang. Ricky froze mid-sentence. I locked rigid and stared back at him. There was a pause and then it rang again. I crept closer to the window and peeped round the curtain then immediately wished I hadn't. It was a policeman at the gate. It was a mother-fucking policeman! And he hadn't seen me - I'd pulled away quick enough - but he'd sure as shit seen the movement. He knew we were inside and if we didn't answer the intercom we were screwed. "What's going on?" asked Ricky. "Who was it?" "We're fucked," I said I said to him. "We are well and truly fucked." A VISIT FROM THE POLICE 9 RICKY I could tell from the look on Jane's face that she knew how bad it was as much as I did. We'd checked out our escape routes when we drove in and there weren't any. Simple as. The grounds were bordered on three sides by other properties with high walls and thick foliage. The only half decent route out was through the front gate and that was blocked by the pig. "He saw I was in here," said Jane, "If we just sit here then he's going to get suspicious. He may already know that the owners are away." "What are we gonna do?" "Go to fucking prison if we aren't careful." "Oh shit!" I could feel the tension scratching up my spine and into my head, down toward my eyes. "That can't happen. We've gotta run out the back and get into next door's garden. We've gotta go now!" "No. Stop a second," said Jane. "Calm down. We can sort this out easily; think about it." "What?" "We just have to change back and let him in - fob him off with some bollocks." I looked back up at the picture of the couple, my stomach cramping. "We don't even both have to change," she said. "I can do it. You can just hide." The bell from the gate rang again. "Fuck!" "Listen," said Jane. "Just simmer down. We have to do this fast. You get out of the way. I'm going to transform again." "Into that bloke?" "Fuck no. That was weird. No. Into the wife. I'll make up some crap about something and get rid of him." This was fucked up. It really was fucked up, and I needed a damn fix. We were supposed to be out of here with all the cash we needed by now. We were supposed to be clear. It wasn't fucking fair. This shouldn't have been happening! "He's goingto realize something's wrong," I said. "He's going to rumble us and then we're going straight to prison, and this time we ain't getting out. We are fucked!" "Just calm down!" snapped Jane, grabbing my arms. "Cool off. I need quiet if I'm going to do this. I need you to shut up. Alright?" I nodded. "Alright Ricky?" "Yeah." "Good. Now get out of the way. I have to concentrate." 10 JANE I felt weird doing this again, knowing this time what would happen, but it was the simplest choice. Making a run for it was all well and good but even if we got clear we would still have wasted this opportunity. Staying inside and braving it out had to be the best choice. I made sure I was well clear of the window then closed my eyes tight shut and visualized the woman from the painting that Ricky had become before, not feeling comfortable at all about turning into the bloke again. I imagined being a rich housewife and told myself how great it would be and then tried to pick out physical qualities about her that I admired. Which was easier said than done. She was chubby and twenty years older than I was. And she was blind as a bat. The pressure didn't help. I knew I had to do this quickly but thinking that made it harder to do. Any minute now, the policeman was going to do something drastic and then it really would be too late. I want to be a rich housewife, I thought to myself. I want to be married to that rich dude. "Nothing's happening," said Ricky. "I know nothing's happening dipshit," I snapped, opening my eyes. "It's the housewife thing. I always vowed I'd never be someone's pretty little trophy housewife. I didn't want to waste my life." "How is loafing around all day drinking cocktails and clothes shopping a waste of a life?" "It just is, okay? I wanted to do something important with my life!" "Like robbing houses?" "No! Like fucking--" "What?" I rubbed deep vertical lines up the centre of my forehead, trying to relieve the tension build-up. "Like working in stock and shares," I said. "Being big in the business world." I pointed up at the painting, at the husband with his stocky body and balding head. "Like him. Like that fat fucker up there." "Then..." Ricky looked unsure. "I have to change back into him," I said. "That's the only thing that's going to work." Ricky glanced out the window. "Well hurry the fuck-- Shit me." "What?" "He's coming. He's got the gate open somehow." "They must have given the police the code. Shit." "He's coming up the drive," said Ricky, panicking. "You have to do it now!" "Alright. Just shut up and let me think for fuck's sake. Get in back." Ricky withdrew and I closed my eyes again, thinking of the man this time and how I'd always wanted to get respect; to be important; to make decisions people listened to; to have an effect on people's lives that actually mattered; to be looked up to and admired. The light dimmed on the other side of my eyelids and I felt the warm ripples on my flesh as I turned my mind to thinking about what it had felt like to be him: how strangely comforting it had been to be so tall and broad, how rich my voice had been. There was a slight queasiness that came and went and then a shudder ran through me and my balance altered. The light grew brighter and I opened my eyes and I was him. I was the man. And I found myself smiling as I looked down at the suit and the portly torso. It felt strangely comfortable. It felt... right. "It worked," I said and enjoyed the deeper sound of my manly voice, the greater resonance of it; its power. The doorbell rang and I heard an expletive from where Ricky was hiding but the panic I'd been feeling was gone. I felt calm. I felt fine actually. This was just a situation that needed dealing with. There was no need to let my emotions get the better of me. I was equipped to handle the circumstances and I felt confident I'd be able to. It felt... nice. The doorbell rang one more time and I strode toward it smiling, sure I could get rid of the policeman easily and get on with robbing this place. 11 JANE When I opened the door the policeman seemed taken aback. I warmly smiled at him and said, "Good afternoon officer, how may I help you?" That wasn't the way I normally talked but it was easy to pretend with this voice and body, knowing I looked to him like a wealthy businessman. "Er, good afternoon Mr Hawthorne." He floundered for a moment. "I'm sorry to bother you but we received a call from one of your neighbours saying that they saw two strangers driving in through the gate a while ago; in your BMW." This was very bad - the neighbours might be able to ID me and Ricky - but I didn't show any reaction. My mind was racing along, coming up with quick responses, testing each possible lie for weakness before dropping it out. "Ah. That explains something then at least. and it explains how the car got back here." "Sir, I'm surprised to find you in I have to say. Aren't you supposed to be on a plane right now?" "And I would have been... if I hadn't decided to go back to where we parked the car. When I found that it had gone we decided to postpone the trip. Came back here." "Did you call the police?" "Not immediately." My nerves took a little spike but I was used to lying my way out of things. "I was going to do that shortly. Of course we found some damage when we got back - to the car as well as some of the house contents." "Can I see?" "Er..." I thought of Ricky hiding in the back of the house. "Of course. Come in." "Thank you sir." I stepped out of the way allowing him to pass, quite liking being called sir as well as the general level of respect the officer was giving me. I'd never been treated like that by a policeman or anyone in authority. I'd been a bit of rough from an early age. It was really nice to suddenly be talked to in such a different way. He walked into the hallway and started to wander right, pausing when he saw the broken picture impaled on top of its plant. I caught a chuckle when I saw it and he glanced back at me a split second after I managed to straighten my face. As he looked away again I grinned. "We'll need to come back later sir," he said, "to take prints." "Of course." "From the description the neighbor gave me I have a fairly strong suspicion who at least one of the intruders might be." I tensed slightly. "Who?" "Nobody you'd know personally sir, living in this area." I gave a little chortle that startled me because it was nothing like my normal laugh. The sound of it fit my new form perfectly. "If it's who I think it might be then the other person in the car that the neighbor didn't see is undoubtedly his girlfriend." "Mmmm?" I shifted uncomfortably as he went on looking. "We've had... encounters with the pair before. But this time I think it'll stick." This was bad; it was very very bad, but at the same time I couldn't help but feel a bit detached from that worry, still enjoying the respect he was giving me; the way he kept calling me sir. I really didn't know why but it felt great. The police officer wandered on into the house and I followed him, but as I walked my eyes flicked left and right for signs of Ricky, worried that he'd let himself be seen because he was so strung out. Lying myself out of that one was going to be tricky... or impossible. And that wouldn't leave me with many other options. Certainly none that I liked. 12 RICKY I should have run for the back wall and I hadn't and now this fucker was going to catch me and I was going to spend the rest of my sodding life in prison. And he'd fucking well pat himself on the back and think he'd done a good day's work. My life; his fucking pat on the back. I could hear their voices getting closer - Jane in that man's body and the copper - as I tucked down low in the kitchen behind the central island of work surface with its built-in cooker. It was a shitty hiding place. If he came fully into the room he'd see me for sure but there wasn't time now to move to a better place. I hadn't expected Jane to let the bastard inside. So I had three choices and three choices only and the tension was screwing me up, making the tick come back that twitched the left side of my face uncontrollably. I could run for it, but I'd definitely get seen now. That meant a positive ID for sure and maybe getting caught. Best case scenario I'd be on the run forever. I could fight my way out of there; maybe even kill the copper if I had to. But I'd never killed nobody - not intentionally. I didn't want to go there. I really didn't want to go there. And that just left me the route Jane had taken - changing again - which I couldn't face doing. If I had to then it fucked me off that Jane turned into the man. I didn't like transforming at all, but into a woman was fucked up. There was something creepy and perverse about it. I wasn't a homo. But they were in the next room now. The voices rose again as though they were coming my way. I didn't have a choice. And I had to do it now if I was going to. I concentrated like Jane had said to, thinking to myself why I wanted to be that chubby four-eyed woman - so I didn't have to go to fucking prison basically - but nothing was happening. It wasn't fucking working! Because I didn't want to be a woman fundamentally. Why would I? And if I had been I'd've wanted to be some supermodel babe, not some frumpy middle-aged housewife. This was the end. This really was the end. My pulse was racing. I was getting serious bends from the withdrawal. I couldn't get my thoughts straight. Then a thought flopped into my mind and the light suddenly dimmed as the magic started working and I saw myself begin to change. Because I remembered that when I'd been a woman the ever-present scratching of addictive need hadn't been there. I'd been totally straightened out all the time I'd been her. And as soon as I realised that I got a fantastic surge of relief to think I was going to feel that way again. My arms shortened in front of me, growing thicker, my legs doing the same as my buttocks and stomach swelled. Breasts pushed out of my chest into my waiting palms and I felt them, perplexed by the odd sensations. I was crouching down still and my legs drew together, my jeans shifting until they were a skirt, smooth knees catching the light from the back door, bare chubby arms wrapping round them. And then the long dark hair fell down to either side of my dipped head and in a rapid flurry, my eyesight blurred then the thick glasses appeared. "Oh God," I murmured, and it was her voice; the woman's. Then the policeman was there and I was up on my high heeled feet wearing a skirt and a sleeveless polo neck with glasses and long hair and tits, and he was looking at me and I was just looking back at him; and then he gave this little smile and fucking apologized for barging in and it was the most fucked up thing that had ever happened to me because he really thought I was this woman. And that made it all the more real. "Oh, I'm sorry madam," he said. "I didn't realize anyone was back here." "Er no," I replied. "That's... that's fine," frazzled that I was sounding just like a normal middle-aged woman, not like myself at all. I looked at Jane in his big man's body beyond the copper, seeing him wink at me - this freaky businessman from the painting, winking at me like it was the most ordinary thing in the world; like were we just wearing disguises or something. "I'm just taking a look around," said the policeman, moving past me. "But I won't take up any more of your time." He looked at Jane. "As I mentioned sir, we'll need to come back later to take prints but I'm just going to check around the area to see if I can spot the culprits or any further evidence of their passing." "Fine. Good," said Jane. "Well thank you very much officer. You're doing excellent work and I appreciate it." The policeman smiled and shook Jane's hand then turned to me and offered to shake mine. I froze for a second, unsure if women shook hands differently from men; not wanting to screw it up and reveal myself. I went to shake but at the last second he closed his hand more on my fingers than my whole hand, just like I remembered now seeing women do. It was weird, but at least he didn't expose me. We followed him through to the hall with me feeling weird and spaced out with every high heeled footfall. Every movement fed back to my brain that I wasn't myself, from the sway of my boobs, the stockiness of my body, the tightness of the skirt, the cool air on my smooth legs and arms, the glasses on my face, the hair flicking against my cheeks and the complete absence of that omnipresent need for my next fix. The copper opened the door himself and then I jumped a little and gave out a tiny half yelp when a big man's hand snaked round my waist. I looked to my right and up and there, a head taller than me, was the man, my 'husband;' Jane. He wasn't looking at me; he was looking straight at the policeman. "We're very grateful for you coming round officer," he said and he sounded exactly like a man; he didn't even have the same accent twang that Jane had. I didn't like it. "My pleasure sir," said the copper. "What I'll do is pop back in a while to check that everything's okay." "That won't be necessary," said Jane. "It's not a problem sir. I just want to ensure they haven't come back and I may take your statement at that point if that's alright." "Er... Fine." He nodded again then went out and closed the door after him. We remained standing, watching him go down the drive then it came to me that 'the man' still had his arm round me. It felt nice but really fucking weird at the same time and we both pulled free uncomfortably, facing away from one another, thinking our own thoughts for a little while. Then we turned back to face each other. Jane gave a quick glance outside to check the copper was gone then he looked back at me. "Well that wasn't too hard," he said, still sounding exactly like a man. "For you maybe," I snapped. "I don't see why you got to be the husband. That should have been me!" Then I shut up because I didn't like how much I sounded like a nagging woman. We stood in silence for a minute then made eye contact again. I looked up at this man who didn't even stand like Jane normally did feeling I'd woken up into some kind of freaky parallel dimension and said, "Well what the hell are we going to do now?" STAYING 13 JANE I felt kind of amazing. There was the buzz of bare-faced lying my way out of the situation with the cop - that had always been something that lit me up - but there was also the shear physicality of all this. I was a man! I was a portly middle-aged multimillionaire businessman! Every movement felt different from what I was used to, from the weight distribution and balance to the formality of the clothes. I had worn shorts or skirts and skimpy tops my whole life, always flashing as much skin as I could, conscious of the control that gave me over blokes, and now I was dressed in a three-piece suit and dress shoes. And the contrast of the way the policeman had talked to me compared to the way I'd been treated my whole life - like I was trouble or a slag or both. He'd addressed as if I really was this rich well-dressed gentleman! I was kind of loving it; really enjoying the ride. Ricky didn't seem to be though. He was-- She was looking nervous and edgy, her smooth round arms wrapped round her chest, little feminine hands gripping the opposite shoulders, peering up at me through those thick-lensed glasses, her eyes enlarged just a little too much by the distortion. She looked almost a little childlike in the way she was looking at me and my instinct was to reassure her. "It's going to be okay. Don't worry. I've got this under control." I put my hand on her shoulder and her fingers slipped up to mine. "We should get out of here now while we still can," she said. "Maybe stay this way until we're clear; get in the car and drive off." "If we do that then it will all have been a waste," I said. "You heard him. He thinks he's IDed who did it and bets on he means us; which means we are more than screwed if we can't get away from this with something major." "So we get a couple of Ming vases or something; put them in the back of the BMW." I shook my head. "We can do a lot better than that." Ricky broke off. "Let's get out of these bodies. This is freaking me out. I want to be me again." "No, wait." "Wait? What the hell for?" "Listen to me," I said, folding my arms. "We have an opportunity here; a unique opportunity." She looked at me quizzically and there was suddenly nothing in her expression or posture that said Ricky. She looked exactly like a woman and that made me feel oddly more like a man. I'd always been the thinker, the one in control but now suddenly I was a whole lot calmer and this man's voice really carried authority. I was getting to like it. "We look like the owners of this house, right? As far as anyone knows we are the owners." "I'm not staying like this. No fucking way." "I'm not asking you to." "I'm not staying a fat fucking four-eyed woman." "Ricky. I'm not asking you to. Be quiet." She closed her mouth. I stepped closer. "Just bear with me and I'll explain what I mean. Okay?" She looked reluctant as hell but she didn't spike u0p and fight me over it. "Okay." We were in the doorway of their huge lounge. I took a seat, leaning back into the sofa and she sat opposite, perched on the edge of a chair, feet together, hands clasped in her lap. I didn't know whether the body was influencing her or something but it was a demure feminine pose, not something Ricky would have normally taken... which made me notice the way I was sitting myself, legs apart, one arm along the back of the sofa top. "I'm not staying like this," said Ricky again. "I want to change back now." "If we transform before we leave then chances are that fuc-- that officer will spot us and put us away." Ricky started to speak but I cut her off. "That's a fact. Indisputable." I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "Here's what I say we do instead. We act smart. We do things carefully." "Do what carefully?" "It's a shame we don't have the memories of these people as well - we'd be able to clean out their accounts and empty the safe too - but we don't. However that doesn't stop us cleaning out this place top to bottom, taking every single valuable item: all these paintings, the furniture; everything not screwed in place. Look at this stuff. Everything's either an antique or worth a grand or more per item." "How the hell are we supposed to do that?" "Look at us." I grinned. "We're the owners. We can do what we want with our possessions. I'm going to ring up a removal firm and get a couple of trucks in and then we're going to supervise them to ship it all out for us. Simple." Ricky looked to the side, thinking. "Stay like this? Until when?" "Until it's done." I smiled reassuringly. "And before you mention someone witnessing us doing it and the removal firm records, we can... hire a storage unit or two someplace and do a staged shift of the stuff. Use a couple of different firms to make it harder to trace. Take our time; really think it through." "For how long?" "For as long as it takes." "And the magic lasts that long? We'll still be able to change back?" "... Sure. Yeah." I was ninety eight percent sure on that point but there was no point clouding the issue. "Okay." She thought for a minute. "But I get to be the husband." "No." I surprised myself with how strongly I felt about it. "I already tried becoming the wife and it didn't work. Besides, we have to stay as we are because the policeman could come back at any minute." "I don't know..." "It'll be fine." "Jane..." "Charles." "What?" "Call me Charles." She frowned. "What?" "The names of the couple were on some mail in the kitchen when we came in." "Why do you want me to call you that?" "Because it sounds weird when you call me Jane and if the copper's in earshot it might blow everything." "He's not in earshot." "When he is. I want us to be used to it." "That's fucked up." "And you've got to stop swearing every third word... Barbara." She gaped at me. "You are not calling me Barbara." "Yes I am." "You are not calling me by a woman's name." "Yes I am," I said firmly and she just shut up and looked at me. "For now, you're my wife and I'm your husband. Okay?" "I suppose." She pouted, becoming sullen but not aggressive as Ricky normally would have. "Think of it this way," I said, standing. "It's a step up from living in sin." I chuckled, then shook my head ruefully when I heard the sound, marveling again how different I sounded, how different I looked and felt. It was like I was a whole different person; which I really was obviously. I picked up the phone book and found a removal firm then dialed the number as 'Barbara' sat watching worriedly, one hand resting lightly on her cheek. I got a little flutter of nerves to think I was going to be pretending I was a man to someone else then I calmed right down. I am a man, I told myself. I'm Charles Hawthorne. I got a wonderful swell of confidence and as they answered I launched straight into the business conversation, checking availability of their trucks; enjoying the deference in the way they talked to me; the respect. I wasn't some trashy girl to these people; I was a respectable businessman. The first two firms I called weren't available at short notice but the third was. With Barbara looking on looking entirely disconcerted, I set up the appointment for the firm to arrive two hours later then ended the call feeling satisfied and in control in a way I didn't remember feeling before. "It's done." "Great," said Barbara, still pouting. "Cheer up," I said. "This is going to set us up for months; maybe years. And meanwhile we get to enjoy ourselves in this fabulous house; go for a swim in that pool." "Like this?" Barbara splayed her arms, looking down at them, her eyes red. "Looking like a woman?" "Baby," I said, sitting beside her. "Darling." I put my arm round her and she shifted slightly, leaning into it; softening with the comfort. "It's the way it has to be. For now. You understand that, right?" She shrugged. "Hmmm?" "Yeah." "So we might as well enjoy it. We shouldn't waste time being pissed off we had to have a sex change. It's hilarious if you think about it. Right?" I nudged her and she gave a little smile. "I guess so." "This is a lot of fun," I said. "We should really try and get the benefit while we can - feel what it's like for the other half." I got up again. "I don't know about you but I want to go and check myself out in the mirror. You coming?" She frowned, unsure. "Come on," I said with a grin. "Live a little. Enjoy yourself." She got to her feet, making a decision. "Okay. You're right. As long as we're stuck like this. Let's go and take a look." EXPLORING 14 RICKY The man that Jane had become went ahead of me up the stairs looking for a mirror, walking with an easy masculine gait that looked nothing like the way my girlfriend moved. He'd told me to call him Charles and it was actually easier to do that than to keep trying to cling to the truth that it was really Jane. I was amazed how calm I felt and how... docile. I was nervous still and felt like I needed some more reassurance, but the aggressive tension I normally would have been spewing out wasn't there at all. I wasn't sure why... unless it was something biological - that my woman's body wasn't wired that way. And of course I didn't have the withdrawal anymore. I didn't even have any cravings apart from the vaguest thought. And I hadn't felt that calm for... years. But also I'd felt a lot better when... Charles had calmed me down. He was just so sure of himself and sure everything would be fine that I couldn't help but believe him. It was... nice. We reached the landing with Charles way ahead, striding on his long legs and checking doors. "Here," he said. "The master bedroom. Looks like there's a bathroom en suite." It was a huge lavish room with French doors going onto a balcony overlooking the back garden. The wardrobes were mirrored and Charles was already looking at himself when I got there. I eyed the bathroom door then slipped through and locked it behind me, not sure why but uncomfortable about standing next to him while I was looking at my new body. I didn't like feeling so small next to him. It made me feel... odd; almost... submissive; and I didn't like it. The bathroom was equally grand with wide lattice windows and a huge round bath. There was a gigantic mirror over the double sink and a full length one on the back of the door. It was in that one that I stared at myself, mystified, putting my little feminine hands to my smooth cheeks and seeing the bulge of flesh at my elbows, catching in a thin line of sheen the light from outside. I took hold of the glasses and lifted them clear, squinting as everything fell out of focus. The sharpness of my vision became a loose blur and it was only when I moved my face very close to the glass that I could see a little better. I put the glasses back on, shaking my head and looked at my face, now a lot nearer in the reflection. It was entirely a woman's face, but there wasn't anything of my normal expression there either. Fringe, straight nose, double chin, light make- up; and I lifted back my straight shiny hair at the side and saw little diamond earrings. I prodded at them, amazed that they were going through my ears and I hadn't even felt them. I stood back and looked at my bare legs coming from the bottom of the skirt, the high heels I was wearing, and it occurred to me that I hadn't fallen over. I hadn't had any trouble walking at all in them. They felt... comfortable. Normal. In fact now that I'd calmed down it didn't even feel that weird. I was a woman. I was wearing women's clothes. So what? They were just clothes. And they felt nice. I turned, pinching a fold of flab from my overripe belly, looking at the way my bottom was bigger, then I examined my breasts. I lifted up the polo neck sweater to expose them and the bra I was wearing and stared in awe, gripping them in my little hands then looking at the pear-shaped bulge of fat pooling into the top of my skirt, the round tummy. I moved my hand down to my crotch and felt the curve of the fleshy bulge above what was just... an absence. I was a woman; really a woman. I looked at myself and said, "Hello. I'm Barbara Hawthorne." I gave a little giggle then went on, playing around. "My husband's name is Charles. We own this house and live here very happily." It was literally the weirdest moment of my life. And Jane... Charles had been right. It was kind of fun. But really very wrong at the same time. 15 JANE The man in the mirrored wardrobe doors looked back at me with calm intensity and I had to really make myself not look behind me to see if the real owner of the house was there. I'd always been slim and slight as a woman and now I was nothing of the sort. I was very tall with broad shoulders and a portly stockiness all over, but the clothes were well tailored and I carried it well. With the short cropped receding hair I just looked distinguished. I touched my face and my body, exploring it, not feeling disturbed curiously by the sensations. I didn't seem to get frazzled now that I was a man; I just had this wonderful unruffled confidence. I smiled at myself and imagined I was standing at the head of a boardroom table, giving out orders to the middle managers below me. My smile broadened. I put my hands on the broad sides of my stomach and then looked through the reflection at the little bulge in the crotch of my trousers. I narrowed my eyes then took off my jacket and laid it neatly on the bed. My shoes were slip-ons. I popped them off and then undid my trousers, taking one leg out then the other and laying them equally neatly next to my jacket. My legs were very pale as though they'd never once been tanned and they were hairy, the socks stretching most of the way to the knee. I scrunched up my nose and chuckled. This was kind of weird but I was determined to take a look. Now that my boxer shorts were exposed I could see the bulge directly and my heart rate increased in anticipation. I'd seen a few dozen cocks in my life but having one myself; touching it; was going to be a real trip. I tented the boxer shorts out and there it was: not bad for size but just unbelievable lying there, thick and round and nestled in its tangle of pubic hair. I wriggled the boxer shorts down around my ankles and stepped out of them then took the thing in my hand, feeling the quiet rush of blood seeping into it, the little jerk as it came to life and change orientation, expanding. With my other hand I reached further down and lifted my scrotum and got another shiver of sensation, grinning. Then the bathroom door opened and Ric-- Barbara was standing there looking at what I was doing. I blushed and grinned sheepishly. "What are you doing?" she said. "Having a wank?" I chuckled. "Just trying it out. Hey." I beckoned her. "Come over here and touch it, I want to see what happens." "No!" "Come on Barbara." "I'm not Barbara." "Barbara. Come on. Give it a try. What can it hurt? We've got plenty of time." She looked from my face to my half enlarged cock then back to my face. I could see her wavering. "You can give me a blow job if you like," I said. "Urgh! No! I'm not a faggot! Fuck!" I laughed and pulled my boxers back on. "I'm just messing with your head. Don't worry about it." I stoked the back of her neck then went in for a kiss on her cheek without thinking. I paused before I made contact, realizing what I was doing and we looked at each other, tense and uncomfortable. Then I did it anyway. "You up for a little exploring?" I said. "If you aren't going to suck my cock then we'll just have to find something else to do." "Charles!" I laughed and put my arm round her, guiding her to the door, secretly glad that she'd used that masculine name without even noticing. 16 JANE We split up; 'Barbara' heading downstairs, me taking up. It was a pleasure to wander through this mansion freely, a place we could never hope to even gain admittance to normally, and it was a far cry from the pokey little flat we shared with its black mould and flaking paintwork in the one of the worst parts of Barton. I imagined I really owned this