Graell's Quest - The Hall Of Mirrors free porn video

Graell's Quest - The Hall of Mirrors Keith awoke feeling refreshed for a minute thinking the last couple of days had really been an especially vivid dream, but only for a moment. Reality intruded on a blissful morning like a cold north wind, when a yawn and a stretch suggested the bed to be larger than it was, or more accurately, as Keith's awakening perception knew, arms and legs that weren't as long as memory recalled. Along with the unaccountable size change, of course, were all of the other things that just didn't feel right "PE" (post-event). K got out of bed and stumbled about trying to carry on as if everything was normal. And so, this morning progressed much the same as had those which preceded it. Following the disposal of the "killer clown" sex doll, K had tried gamely to finish moving in. The unpacking had been a nightmare of moving from one room to another trying to arrange things, all the while in a semi- daze, rarely leaving the condo, and never leaving the condo building. Initially, K had suffered from terrible, paralyzing, anxieties. Even though K had felt for years a modicum of self-pity over having become a semi-recluse, it was quickly apparent that those circumstances realized present advantages. There weren't any pressing social engagements, and very importantly, there wasn't anyone to question the fiction that Professor Keith Graell had taken off to see the world. In fact, those few that called Dr. Graell 'friend,' would see such a solo trip as completely in character. E-mail made it convenient and easy to create and maintain the fiction that Dr. Graell was travelling, leaving "Kei" the luxury of undisturbed acclimatisation. There were moments of black humour though, as for all intents and purposes reality had turned upside down. "Who're ya gonna call? Ghostbusters?" K had quipped after a particularly bad sequence of stubbing toes and fingers and dropping things on the floor instead of the counter, desk or table on which they'd meant to be placed. No matter how "new and improved" the body seemed to be, the wiring was definitely "first generation." It hadn't taken long to figure out that previously autonomic movements were newly problematic because limb length didn't match visual memory and existing motor controls used to realise those distances with muscle movement. Despite what amounted to a slapstick comedy, stumbles and falls, knocking things over and other frustrations of adjusting, K did begin to feel somewhat settled. To start with, in what amounted to self-preservation, establishing a routine proved to be calming: Starting the morning with a couple of trips up and down the emergency exit stairs to work in a little exercise before breakfast, then a shower, followed by breakfast and coffee with the newspaper. The first time K had tried to get some exercise by using the emergency stairs resulted in a header, and some nasty bruises, but fortunately no breaks. K was much more cautious about grabbing the handrail thereafter. Habitually, the rest of the day was filled with the familiar pastime of research in front of the computer. After about two weeks, K realized a day had gone by without it being one long wait for the other shoe to drop. The police hadn't paid a return visit, the purchaser of the futanari doll hadn't returned it, it had been some time since the cheque to the movers had cleared normally, and an automatic pension deposit had been processed normally. The latter information K had learned when confirming access to various financial accounts. Of course, any time "Keith" actually considered the event, there was no escaping the unreality of it at all. Nor, truth be told was there any acceptance. K's eyes opened to full sunlight, even lately, a very unusual occurrence. With the sun's rays heating the bedroom, K was not motivated to quit the bed. But it was warm under the duvet, and K tossed it aside. Sometime during the night, the t-shirt K wore as nightclothes had ridden up, and now, having thrown the covers aside, the rays of the sun were very pleasant on naked skin. Lazily, but with purpose, K's hands explored luxuriously silk smooth skin, taught on firm muscles. Not for the first time since the change, K let inquisitive digits explore. Although not- quite familiar, K welcomed the growing sensation of building pressure, and caught a breath as it grew, then grew some more and then plateaued... ...and then, stayed plateaued. Back arching, K groaned in frustration. The "button" to get over the edge remained a mystery. Despite yearning for the peak, the moment was gone, and it became apparent that today wasn't going to be "the" day either. Although more frustrated than disappointed, K climbed out of bed, the reflection of the day being on life's ironies. "She" had been purchased to add spice to what was a solitary, but not dysfunctional, sexuality. Spice had been added to life, all right, in an entirely unforeseeable fashion which had also, it was becoming apparent, added dysfunction. Looking up towards at the ceiling, K made the daily resolutions to figure out what had happened. And so, this day ended up starting out exactly as had the day before. Dressed in a sweat shirt and pants, hair done up in a ponytail, K headed down the emergency stairs, one hand carefully on the handrail, one foot placed deliberately on each succeeding stair. The last thing K wanted was to do another header. The maintenance crew looked up when they saw the emergency stairwell door open, pausing their work. They smiled, the younger giving the older a quick elbow nudge. "Hey," K said with a nod in passing the two whom were doing the daily clean-up of the lobby. As had been the case for a few days now, they nodded and said good morning back. The first time they'd said 'hello,' as K passed had caused a double-take, but now the greeting was a matter of routine. K, habitually preoccupied with questions and postulations, would have been shocked to be told that the two had altered their schedule to do the lobby maintenance at that hour when they realized that K would be passing by regularly. A day was a day, and anything that made the day more pleasant was a good thing as far as they were concerned. Saying hello to the pretty young woman and getting a look at her counted to them as pleasant. By habit now, the stair climbing finished in front of the full length mirror mounted in the foyer of the condo by the door. The sweat shirt would come off quickly, as if quickness would somehow change the result, then, carefully watching the reflection, the track pants would be lowered slowly. The figure in the mirror, now in flimsy undergarments, was still largely a stranger, a fact amply illustrated by the numerous bruises, new and old, adorning K's limbs, bruises acquired through simple uncoordination. Each day, K would watch the reflection mimic movement, and match sensation and sight. Inevitably the exercise would end in a sort of mental shutdown as the differences between sight, sensation and memory jarred in dissymmetry. Always the academic, K pondered the conundrum, was 'I' still the familiar 'me'? Is it my perception or is it reality that has changed?' The stretching and twists were habit enough that K was free to reflect. So far, all of the information gleaned from the internet was less than positive. After extensive trolling, K was no further advanced towards understanding what had happened or, of course, finding a way back to what had been. On consideration, K admitted returning to the way things were wasn't a tremendously compelling goal. Given the choice between "old Keith:" At the end of a modestly successful career, no immediate family to speak of, limited circle of friends and acquaintances, and failing health' and "new Kei" with seemingly endless prospects, youth and health and access to "old Keith's" finances, "new Kei," despite the sex change and disconnecting loss of "self," was a pretty attractive alternative. K was motivated to continue searching by several big drawbacks. "New Kei" didn't legally exist, which was worrisome to say the least. More importantly, a pestering voice kept on repeating, without knowing what happened, the assumption of permanence was presumptuous to say the least. K's research had started on the key words animating non-living objects and the results had produced search trees ranging from philosophical discussions concerning the difference between what constituted the animate and inanimate, to Shelley's Frankenstein and zombie lore. "Who knew?' K had thought in surprise, 'that some people considered Jesus and Lazarus to be the first documented zombies.' The sheer volume of fiction and legend existing on animating the inanimate, ranging from Disney's "The Sorcerer's Apprentice" to the golem of Prague and not to forget, good old Frosty and the magic hat, had been a surprise. A common thread to all of these, however, was that they were long on story, short on fact. Even the golem legend, although that story had, at least, led down the path of scripture which was taken by some to be fact. In pursuing the religious slant, although never having considered it in this way before, K spent hours engrossed by a sited devoted to analyzing scripture discussing Adam as the original golem. God had fashioned Adam from clay, breathing life into, and thus animating, the result. Seeing Adam lonely, God had then taken a piece of Adam and fashioned Eve. It wasn't until the serpent tempted Eve into taking the fruit of wisdom that the two became self-aware and started humankind down the road of science. Much later in history, the Talmud described the will of God as being invoked to animate a golem. So, from the point of view of philosophy and lore there was clearly an essential ingredient that separated the animate (living) from the inanimate. It didn't occur to K that there might be a connection between the ancient serpent bracelet and the Eden myth. Although the research on animation was fascinating, it had been ultimately of little assistance in gaining understanding. Accordingly, K had decided to change tacks, to concentrate on the sex change aspect, despite knowing it would mean wading through countless sites of a more dubious nature. As before, researching gender transfer turned out to be no less overwhelming. Just sifting the academic from the porn was a challenge. Several hours passed and K hadn't succeeded in learning much useful, except again, the surprising amount of fiction and lore that existed. According to the internet, there were endless numbers of ways one could be transformed; machines of one sort or another (either sufficiently technologically advanced, or somehow magically enabled), there were magic spells, potions and artifacts, certain people could body jump, special transformative drugs were postulated, and finally the (comparatively) prosaic (and factual) surgical intervention. Sighing, K pushed away from the desk. It had been days now, days of reading what at times, was horrible drivel, poorly written supposition, inept circular logic and simple dogma put forward as intelligent discourse. Frustrated, and becoming concerned at having achieved no real progress, K tried to think of another avenue. K knew it to be unlikely, that unless horribly foolish, access money was probably assured given knowledge of passwords and such, but a motivating worry was nevertheless the possibility of destitution. Restless, K felt the need for some air, despite the late hour. With hardly a glance in the hall mirror, K set off for a walk. Travelling down in the elevator, it stopped to let someone else on. K recognized the elder of the two custodians, 'Mike.' "Oh, hi!" Mike said, genuinely pleased by the encounter. K nodded, trying avoid eye contact, with a polite, "Hi," in reply. "You're new here, eh?" Mike asked. "I'm Mike, eh." K nodded. "Kei." "Pleased," Mike smiled. "What floor'r you on?" K yearned for the elevator to move faster. "Penthouse," "Nice." Mike smiled. "What view?" "South," K replied politely trying to make it sound like a conclusion, realizing that the fellow was one of the fortunate ones, genuinely happy with their world and the conversation was just him being naturally talkative. "Me too," Mike nodded, "it's great, eh?" "Yes, it's the reason why eyemeye," slurred over the error with a mental kick, "uncle bought here." K added a mental curse at getting drawn into the conversation. "I love it," All of which was true of course, just confused by two different realities. "Oh," Mike looked over, "Oh, I know which unit you're in. Haven't seen the old professor guy around. Unit 1 right? Is your Uncle's? I only met him the once, but he seemed like a nice guy." "Keith" didn't remember meeting Mike before moving into the building at all, and presumed that they'd met when the keys and electronic garage opener and such had been sorted out in the administration office. It had been the exorbitant deposit required that had been the focus of that meeting, K recalled. The fact that the custodian would remember anything from the occasion, let alone residence and occupation was shocking. 'Everyone had their hidden talents' K thought, while replying, "That's right." K nodded in emphasis, "He asked me to watch his place while he's travelling, and since I needed a place to stay anyway, it was a godsend." K hoped that the explanation would put the conversation to rest. But it didn't, it just opened up more questions. "Oh? Mike smiled, as the door opened waving K out. "You're new in town?" K nodded heading towards the front door. Mike followed, continuing the pleasantries. "New job?" "University," K said without thinking anything overly much except 'when would it end?' "Oh yeah," Mike moved forward to open the door and hold it. "What're you taking?" K winced not having intended that inference, although that was the obvious assumption, all things considered. "Cultural Anthropology." K decided that sticking to the familiar couldn't hurt. "Cool," Mike nodded as if he had a clue as to what that was, starting off towards the corner, walking for the moment beside K. "Just heading to Tim's. Grabbing a coffee, " Mike nodded his head northward. And with that, K decided that south was as good a direction as any. "This way," K pointed in opposite direction. "Well," Mike smiled broadly and waved, pleased to have the scoop on his confederate, "nice chatting. Have a good one." "You too," K replied perfunctorily, relieved the contact was ended. In the past, when suffering some sort of academic block, K would get off alone, and go back to first principles. What was known, what was hinted at, and finally, what was wishful thinking. Feet mercifully cooperating, K pondered. What was known? Well, the mannequin was purchased from a fairly large and established firm. Although K felt it highly unlikely that anything of the sort would be reported, there were no hints anywhere on the internet pointing at the disappearance of customers availing themselves of the firm's merchandise. So K doubted that the key to understanding the problem lay with the doll itself. What else for facts? 'Well, at first,' K figured, 'I was entrapped within the mannequin, a sort of living doll, the inanimate time: The weirdness of being able to see, hear and feel, but not move. After what had seemed an interminable period like this, which K knew intellectually could not have been much more than a day, there had been another change, the doll going from inanimate, to animate, and presumably, human. Then, there was the appearance of the second doll, either shortly before, shortly after, or concurrent with this change. K shuddered involuntarily, not for the first time wondering if the mover had been inadvertently trapped in the mannequin. The "killer clown" aspect of the blonde futanari doll's features haunted K's. There wasn't really much else, a vague recollection of the smell of ozone, a feeling of terrible pain, and finally, a recollection of terror. Add in the red marks that had been on K's arm, now faded, and that was all there was to go on. Wrapped up in speculation and review, K was oblivious to the sun slowly sinking into the western horizon, starting when the streetlights came on. At the next intersection, with barely a thought, K made a left, crossing the road to return home, vaguely wondering what to eat for dinner. Wanda was partly sitting on the balustrade, one leg bent, one foot flat against the ornate brick framing the stairs leading into the store, smoking a cigarette. The street was a bit seedy looking, despite being only a block from the well-kept renovations of the nearby "Rainbow Quarter" community. The gentrification that had transformed the neighborhood to the west and north had not yet reached this street, but it would. The old mansions were too well constructed, and too well situated to not follow suit. The store clerk was watching the early evening street traffic with indifferent curiosity, passing time. The day had been unusually quiet, and Wanda had been more than a little irritated when Percy had called in sick, asking her to stay on. Normally she'd be on her way home by now. Looking south, she idly noted a young woman turn down the street. Taking a drag, Wanda idly noted the presence of a familiar irritation making a bee-line for the pedestrian. 'Friggin' drug addled hooker,' Wanda thought, wondering if the police would be needed again. Not that there was any guarantee that if they were called they would show. Sometimes they did, sometimes they didn't, but whether they did or not, the hooker was back on the corner in a day or two anyway, trying to get business to buy her drugs. 'Sad,' Wanda realized, 'a block was all the difference between tranquility and irritation.' The young woman continued down the street, ponytail swaying back and forth with her pace eyes cast downwards on the pavement. Wanda watched, taking the occasional drag on her butt. The hooker was unpredictable. "Spare some change," the whining note caught K unawares, not having seen the woman approach from across the street. Wanda heard the demand as well, saw the young woman try to step around and continue and sighed when the hooker gave chase. At first it was just a repetitious demand for money, but after a moment or two it started to escalate. "Hey," the hooker grabbed at the young woman, "I's talking to you." She had worked around directly in K's path, and was now stepping first one way then the next to block the way. A stream of abuse was now issuing forth from the addict belittling the passer-by in every way imaginable. Wanda flicked the remnants of the cigarette into the street. Not her battle, but Wanda couldn't decide how young the young woman was, and decided she'd have to "do something." K was at a loss, up until this moment having always had the physical size, if not the strength to avoid such confrontations. Not knowing what else to do, K had stopped dead, not being able to get around the obstruction. Wanda shook her head knowingly, even from this distance wide eyed confusion was clearly visible. In between freeze or flight, Wanda knew, in this situation freeze was definitely not the preferred option. To be honest, it wasn't good to act like prey at all, but that was street smarts that had taken Wanda a long time to learn. "Excuse me?" Wanda shook her head, the next worst thing possible was to try to reason with them. The hooker was now getting very physical, sensing an advantage, pushing with both hands, trying to maneuver the youngster into an alley and maybe a mugging. K tried to back away, but it was too little, too late and was playing into the hooker's new intent. The hooker had decided that some payback was due, possibly because she was a head taller, but more likely because she was a day past needing a fix. "Hey," Wanda called out, enough was enough. The hooker started, turning towards the advancing clerk. The predatory anger turned into an expression of fear and loathing. She recognized the blonde from many, many past encounters. "I called the police," Wanda lied, figuring the addict wouldn't chance getting picked up. An overnighter in jail would keep her that much further from getting a fix. Wanda made for a point in between the hooker and the young woman. A filthy tirade issued forth from the hooker, but she kept a healthy distance away from her nemesis. Wanda grinned, it was all posturing now. When she got directly in between the young woman and the hooker she placed her hands on her hips waiting to make sure the addict kept on going. K watched this exchange, eyes flicking back and forth between the two women, resembling beyond all else a deer caught in headlights. While Wanda had meant the threat of the police to be aimed solely at the hooker, unbeknownst to her, it also registered on K with further alarm. "C'mon," Wanda motioned, seeing the hooker turn into an alley up the street, "I don't know if she's gonna wait there or not. C'mon into the store for a bit and let her cool off, just in case." K's eyes fixed on the Samaritan. Late twenties, blonde, half a foot or so taller, with a robust build that could tend to fat in later life, she had a pleasant girl next door face and a disarming smile. Not able to decide what else to do, K followed along across the street towards a boutique store. K's saviour confided de sotto voice, "Not really the greatest part of town after dark here. Not good to be walking alone." With no idea at all of what was a good or bad part of town after dark, K remained silent, trying to digest the paradigm shift of having to be worried about walking alone at dusk. Trailing along behind the blonde, K was trying to figure out how to ask as to whether the police were really coming or not, but in the end couldn't get up the nerve. "Truth be told," Wanda continued, "this isn't really the best neighborhood during the day either," she continued, leading the way up the steps. It might have been the contents of the display window, it might have been the extra two 'x's in the advertisement for rental "flix," but K suddenly realized what kind of a store it was and stopped dead. When Wanda realized she wasn't being followed up the steps, she turned and caught the look on K's face. A flicker of puzzlement crossed Wanda's face, quickly replaced by a knowing, amused smile. "It's just a store," her eyes twinkled kindly, changing her age estimate down some. Still, K hesitated, "Um, you work here?" Wanda shrugged, "It's a living." And nodded towards the inside, holding the door open. Fortunately, the store was empty. The back half was taken up by shelves of rental movies, most discs, but some in VHS too. There were display cases against one wall, a checkout counter to one side of the door, and a large display window on the other there were two imaginatively costumed and posed mannequins in the display window. "I um, well, thanks," K stammered, flushing red, not really sure where to look, "but I ah, should be getting home." Wanda laughed, "Never seen such a collection of implements of destruction before?" "Uh, really," K moved towards the exit, "gotta go." All of this was just too much, and if the police were coming that was a really bad thing, not having any identification and such. "In all seriousness," Wanda's tone changed, "it really isn't a great street. I'm off in a little bit, just need to close up really. I'll walk with you back to civilization?" Wanda watched as indecision warred in the young woman's face. "...but won't the police..." K started slowly, "want to talk to you?" "The police?" Wanda smiled, "I didn't call them, and they don't normally show up when I do. Not their kind of neighborhood." "Oh." Wanda smiled, "Have a look around. I just need to straighten up a couple of things and close off the cash. Fifteen minutes tops." "Look around?" K repeated inanely. "Sure." Wanda pointed towards the display cases, and couldn't resist, "you might find something of interest over there," she added nonchalantly, but with mischievous intent. K walked over and stopped dead. "Oh. Oh my!" K paused, "you sell that?" Wanda laughed at the look of disturbed fascination, "not a museum, hon. Course we sell them." She walked over to the display case, and saw what had the young woman transfixed, "Ah. That would be 'Buster.' Well, no, we don't sell a lot of those, but you know? They do sell. To a certain type." "Buster?" K repeated, searching Wanda's face for confirmation. They had names? "Damn near killed 'her." Wanda quipped, unable to resist a tweak at the young woman's naivety. "No one..." K made a thrusting motion down low and upwards, voice soft and hesitant, "with that. Really?" Wanda laughed, it had been a long time since someone with so little clue had been in the store, at least someone that betrayed out loud that they had so little clue. "What do you think they do with it?" The clerk wanted to return to restocking the movies from the returns cart but was curious and carried on talking. "Not everyone has a boyfriend," this comment was met with a blank look, so Wanda continued, "or girlfriend," another blank look, "in their lives taking care of things, eh?" Wanda digested the inference, stranger things had happened, she knew, but it was flabbergasting that the young woman wasn't in a relationship - but then, Wanda thought, sometimes better to not be in a relationship than to be stuck in a bad one. Curiosity got the better of her, and she couldn't resist asking, "No boyfriend?" K looked shocked, and Wanda leaned towards the possibility of the girlfriend, but was too polite to press the point. A few minutes later, Wanda was done with putting the store to bed and showed K out the door. The two set off down the street. As they walked past the next few alleys, Wanda kept an eye out, and sure enough, caught sight of the hooker skulking at the end of one of the blind alleys. She didn't say anything, but noticed that her companion hadn't been looking, and Wanda didn't think at any rate, see anything. Young and na?ve. As they walked Wanda rambled a bit, explaining how she'd grown up on a farm outside the city. How this had resulted in her not really ever not knowing about sex and accordingly how she'd never developed the 'good girls don't' attitude that made so many people's lives miserable. K mostly just listened, not really sure what an appropriate response could possibly be. But after a few minutes, as Wanda told some self-deprecating and funny stories about moving to the city and taking the job in the sex shop, K realized that the companionship was very appealing. There wasn't very much artificial about Wanda, and if K had asked around, most people would have described the blonde as well grounded, down to earth and honest. K suddenly yearned to keep the contact going. "Um, I haven't really thanked you enough," K ventured after a few intersections, it was only a few more blocks at that point, before getting home, "would you like to grab a coffee? There's a Starbucks, or a Tim Horton's?" "Oh, I can't," but K thought that Wanda sounded disappointed, "My boyfriend is supposed to be meeting me at my place for dinner and a movie." A twinge of jealousy visibly touched a nerve at that remark, an expression that Wanda picked up on. Definitely getting over a girlfriend, she concluded. "But thanks for the invite," Wanda continued politely, "it was no trouble really. I've had problems with that one before, and in general like most vermin, she runs when confronted. You'll pick up the tricks in no time." K was surprised at how disappointing the polite rejection was, not really noticing the veiled advice on personal security. Okay, well," K nodded awkwardly while pointing to the west down the thoroughfare, "I'm that way." Wanda smiled and pointed in the opposite direction. "Okay, then," K walked away backwards, finishing, "bye, and thanks again." In no time at all, K was home. K ate a sparse supper replaying the excursion, having realized that there hadn't been much review and contemplation going on, and there had been a lot more social stimulation than intended. Surprisingly, both Mike and Wanda had been very pleasant and nice. Keenly aware of having had to force participation in both conversations, K concluded that the human contact had been pleasurable. And, distracted by thoughts of what had turned out to be the high point since moving into the condominium, K prepared for bed. Surprisingly comfortable and relaxed, sleep approached quickly. The filmy white coverlet that K was wearing was not much more than a negligee. Whipping in the wind K was facing into, the thin gown left little to the imagination. Even had there been no wind plastering the material to the curves of K's body it would have been more revealing than K habitually wore, with its short sleeves, plunging square cut neck line and hem line stopping just above the knee. How it transpired that K was outside dressed so nagged dimly just below conscious thought. The sky was overcast, and darkening in the late afternoon. No other people were about. There was a lone, out of place building nearby, and not certain exactly why, K entered it. Feeling compelled towards some hidden, yet seemingly important goal, K didn't dwell on the motivation. With a shiver, K was thankful to have at least gotten out of the cold north wind. The vestibule opened up into a long poorly lit hall, ending in a 'T' junction. Carrying onwards through inertia, K walked down the hall and turned left, as good a direction as any, and continued along. The second hall had two sets of doors facing each other, and K opened each of them in passing. The rooms that were revealed were vaguely familiar, but disconnected from any relationship, temporal or geographic to the surrounding rooms. Rather they seemed to be a jumble of mismatched memories. After moving along several such corridors, K was disoriented and had lost track of passing time. It seemed like the maze of rooms and corridors continued forever. Finally, K opened a door into a room which was familiar only in its concept, consisting of an arrangement of full-length mirrors such as one would find in a county fair. Upon entering, K spotted a young woman, also entering the room in uncertainty, eyes wide, hesitant. K started with the realization the attractive young woman with waist length dark hair, at once both familiar and not, was a reflection, a personal reflection. For some reason, Kei found the image troubling. Negotiating the hall of mirrors was exhausting. Finally, at the point of giving up, a black door appeared. Although certain that the area had been explored previously, Kei opened the door gratefully entering a more recently familiar room. It was the condominium master bedroom, as it had been on moving day. There was a man there, back to the door, who turned slowly. "You?" The man's tone was angry and a bit surprised. K recognized Frank the mover, but was confused as to his presence here. Ever since entering the building, a sense of unease had been building, and now K felt the stirrings of unease bud into fear. The man advanced menacingly. Confused by the man's anger and unaware of his motivations, K backed away. There was only a single step before K bumped against the hardness of the door, it having swung shut under its own power. Now K felt trapped and unable to avoid what was clearly going to a confrontation of some sort. As the mover advanced, closer and closer, K's hand fumbled for the doorknob. The angle was all wrong. Before K could adjust, Frank had closed the distance completely. The mover was pressing his body to his quarry in obvious delight, pushing his groin hard up against K's abdomen. The contact was shocking, unexpected and unwanted, propelling K to greater efforts to escape. One hand still searching for the doorknob, the other now pushed in vain against the much taller, stronger assailant. "I don't remember you being so squirmy," Frank chuckled, taking delight in having pinned the young woman against the wall. Running a hand up K's side to grab at a breast, the mover simultaneously was trying to spread K's legs with a knee. He squeezed his hand hard, which to his pleasure elicited a gasp of pain. The man's intent was now completely apparent, if not understood. At that moment, K's hand brushed up against, and closed on the doorknob. Desperately twisting, the knob turned just enough to suddenly release the catch. The door banged open under the pressure of their combined weight. Miraculously, K managed to hold on to the doorknob and stay upright. Frank, not expecting the sudden lurch forward, tripped to his knees, one hand arresting the fall, the other trying to grip his intended prey. In desperate haste, K evaded Frank's grasping hand and started to run, glancing hurriedly backwards every few steps. Frank followed in a deliberate march that covered impossibly long distances with each stride. K tried to run faster and faster, but the gap between them wasn't getting any greater. The hallways grew darker, at first seemingly endless, they eventually transitioned to forest path, bordered by dense shrubs and winding through tall trees. K wasn't really aware of the transition until the prickles on the shrub branches started to claw at and snag the gossamer gown, shredding the light fabric and slowing K's flight. Trees pressed to the left and right, ominous, seeming to close in on the path in K's wake. At some point, Frank finally fell far enough behind to be lost from view. There was a light ahead. Chest burning for air, heart racing, K slowed. Listening for a moment and not hearing any pursuit, K pressed onwards, entering into a circular clearing, a source of deep red illumination at the centre. With the light a sinuous figure moved, occupying the exact centre of the glade. It seemed to K that this figure was glowing; was the source of the light. Although K had no sensation of having moved, the figure quickly grew larger as if K was approaching. Only a few yards away, K could see that it was a serpent, coiled, tongue tasting the air in abrupt darting flicks. The head and neck waved slowly from side to side in a mesmerizing dance. K boggled, rebelling against comprehending the size, incredulous that a beast of such immense length and girth could exist. Fascinated into immobility, an injudicious movement revealed to K the serpent was slowly advancing, breaking the spell. K shuddered. Taking two quick steps away, K turned to run, snatching a backwards glance. The glade behind was empty. K slowed in confusion, but didn't stop, feeling that safety lay in quitting the glade. K spotted an opening in the surrounding trees and headed for it, not realizing that the predator had climbed into the canopy above and was lying in ambush. K moved out of the clearing and underneath the trees. The serpent darted downwards, quickly wrapping two coils around its prey, constricting tightly around K from hip to rib cage. K had no time to react before being pulled into the air, arms and legs akimbo. Once securely perched in the trees with its prey, the serpent quickly wrapped still more coils around its intended victim. K pushed frantically at the coils in an effort to get free, but already out of breath and weak from running, and far less strong, was ineffective. Unable to breathe, vision tunnelling K's last sight was of the serpent's head and neck metamorphosing into the upper torso of Frank, but not Frank. It was the futanari doll, and the mover's "killer clown" evil, lecherous grin was the final terror. K screamed... ...and bolted into an upright sitting position, heart pounding, breathing laboured, wrestling with an entrapment of bed sheets. A shape at one corner of the foot of the bed menaced, ready to pounce. Heels digging into the mattress, K scuttled backwards until stopped by the headboard. Fighting for control, trying to rationalize conflicting perceptions, K's chest heaved, throat constricted. The city lights seeping into the bedroom provided enough illumination to reveal that the shape was not moving. Courageously, albeit irrationally, K lunged for the shape, realized it was just clothing, but nevertheless, quickly lumped it into a ball to throw it into the walk in closet. It landed in a heap in the corner where it remained, of course, immobile. K struggled for control, wide-eyed, heart racing, trying to force deep even breaths. When the panic had subsided, K turned on a light to verify that the object was in fact a dressing gown that had been carelessly left on the bed post. 'Only a dream,' K repeated like a mantra, 'only a dream.' Eventually, K doused the light, and tried to get back to sleep. Not for over an hour, when the sun had turned the horizon dark orange, did a troubled sleep finally return. It was mid-morning when K got out of bed with stiff and achy legs as if all the running had been for real. Over the panic, and somewhat embarrassed, K picked up the dressing gown to hang it up. It was heavier than it should have been, and as K registered the fact, a flash of silver dropped to the floor with a thud. K's eyes were attracted to the motion, and fastened on the object, the relic bracelet that had been thrown into that same corner, days earlier. A trick of light gleaming off the silver made it appear to move, and K dropped it as though burned. The bracelet had borne a startling resemblance to the giant serpent in the nightmare. 'You little sissy,' K chided, and picked it up again. It was amazing the power of the brain, K thought, realizing now the source of the archetype for the terrifying creature in the nightmare. As the morning's routine was hopeless broken, K took the bracelet to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee and think. Turning the bracelet over end over end and around and around, focussing on the inner and outer surfaces in turn, K was reminded again of the reasons why it had been fascinating. The workmanship was exemplary and exact; precise scales giving an appearance of natural overlap, a slight red tinge to the eyes, that frankly had gone unnoticed until now, and finally, the tips of two fangs overhanging the lower jaw, still sharp after centuries in the soil. Something else that K had never before noticed was how the artisan had managed to achieve a dynamic appearance of musculature, as if the piece could slither away on its own. Exercising tremendous self-control, K retrieved the memory of the terrifying dream; the presence of the mover, the serpent, the maze like hallways and rooms, and finally, the dense, prehistoric-like forest. Some of the images had clear roots in recent events; some were completely obscure, such as the room of mirrors. The worst of it had been the sensory overload that had made it all seem real; physical sensations and physiological fear responses. With a sudden start, K realized something else. It had been the first time "PE" where "Kei" rather than "Keith" had been dream persona. That was something to ponder.