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So, here we go. This is the first story written to accompany the Determined Man series that I will be publishing simultaneously. They are entirely unconnected thematically. These shorter stories are just here to make sure everyone can have a bit of fun after reading a part of the slower burner Determined Man. Please please do read both. Be a star and leave a review. OCD GOD Despite appearances, the Earth is an extraordinarily ordered place. Unlike many less-well marshalled regions of the universe (and beyond), the atoms that make up the Earth, as well as its myriad inhabitants, do not simply float off independently, making for a meaningless soup of existence in which a purposeful and useful life would be extremely difficult to pursue. Nor do they take the alternative path, and congregate so violently that they generate the kind of immense pressure and heat that would be, to say the very least, highly irritating. If you're not yet convinced of the fundamental neatness of life on your planet, I'd ask you consider the processes that operate on a a more observable level. What might happen if, say, the elements that make up the rocks and the soil were sufficiently reactive to bond with all the oxygen in the air, leaving the atmosphere barren of such a life giving ingredient? What might life look like if a species of virus evolved that was so effective at self-replication and infection, that there was little space for anything else? Have you ever wondered how this amazing and delicate balance is achieved? If you have, you're certainly not alone. Your scientists have been busy doing, genuinely really sterling, work observing the visible layers of existence available to them, and even carrying out grand experiments to open up new worlds of sub-atomic particles for study, all in the name of understanding the processes that keep everything going. And they honestly deserve all the plaudits for their discoveries; gravity, thermo-dynamics, quantum physics and the like. I have to admit that they have worked more of it out then most of my kind ever thought they would. Still, even though I nod along as I watch them work, and occasionally even have to stop and applaud as they successfully describe some mechanic of existence, I hope you'll forgive me when I say that to me, all their efforts seems a little bit pointless; little more than a game. You see, despite all of their intelligence and diligence, I can guarantee you with absolute certainty that your scientists and theoreticians will never find what they're seeking. They'll never get to the bottom of why what they experience is as it is. The reason I can give this cast iron assurance, is because what's at the root of their lives; from the elemental forces that underpin the interaction of energy and matter they observe in their laboratories in the day, to how the roast chicken on their table when they get home tastes so wonderfully succulent, even to the reason why they feel such an emotional connection to their wives and husbands when they lie in bed at night; the reason all of this works, is something of a nature very familiar to me, and completely different to what they're looking for. What is at the bottom of it, and I mean this (unfortunately) in more ways than one, is me. My name is Bob, and I'm a god. _______________________________ Now, when I say "god" I'm guessing some ideas and pictures are coming to mind: All knowing, all powerful maybe? Perhaps full of love and understanding? Ha! Not likely! Well, maybe some of the big-wigs upstairs. For the contractors down in my department though, all of those big ideas are more like, well, a corporate motto maybe. Between the whole lot of us we've probably got it covered, but its not like there's one single guy who looks after every little detail. Even the big Names on the top floor can't be looking after absolutely everything all of the time. That's where we come in. We help make the Grand Plan play out as it should. Every little thing is understood by, and under control of, someone, somewhere - Maybe Jeff in the gravitational forces team is your man: He knows his stuff. Or perhaps you need to speak to Uzma in the child and parent bonding directorate, she has a lot insight into why things turn out the way they do. Everything is known by someone. The difficulties mostly come about when we try to put it all together. Us worker bees like to think that, overall, we do a pretty good job carrying out our little bit of the Grand Plan, and letting the guys and gals upstairs concentrate on the bigger picture. We're not perfect, but we get by. Just imagine what a mess you'd all be in if everything was left to run on it's own! Let me tell you: It would not be pretty. Now, I've already illustrated that order and principle are pretty important in our jobs. Some gods get to handle some quite creative stuff. I have drinks with a couple of them that do, like Cho, the god of rock and roll, or Barry, the office joker and god of hailstones (precipitation division), who's surprisingly imaginitive and unpredictable a lot of the time. However, for most of us lower-downs, what's required is order and consistency. It's repetitive work, but someone's got to make sure that all of those water molecules evaporate at the right rate, and someone else has got to put in a lot of concentration to make sure that after that water has fallen back out of the sky (cheers Barry!) it all flows properly downhill like its supposed to. Sure, every now and again the call comes down from upstairs from the god of faithfulness, or some other big shot, to change things up a bit, like, part a sea or some such, but mostly its just same-old, same-old. So you can see that generally, being a little bit anal is a virtue, and as such it's a pretty common character trait where I'm from. The problems come when you don't choose the right god for the right job. And that, I'm very sorry to say, is what's happened to me. From my performances in the practice galaxies when I was a kid, they really should have spotted that I was made for something more routine. I never felt moved to create a quasar or a black hole. About the most creative I ever got was a binary system with a couple of gas giants. So why, I hear you ask, did they earmark me for big things when they finally put me to work on the hallowed ground of your fair Earth? Well, that was probably because my parents were real leading lights of the previous age. My old man was a proper wizz as the god of fire, and was very highly thought of after the whole internal combustion engine thing, and my mum was none other than the god of flight. Everyone thought she was moving too fast when she helped humans into the air (really? Did you think those olde-time contraptions could actually fly without a little "help"), but it all worked out pretty well in the end. And so I was earmarked as a high-flier, a creative. Unfortunately, I guess that kind of ability sometimes skips a generation. Following in my parents transport footsteps, I was given a challenging entry-level role as god of traffic lights, but I just could not abide the chaos that came with every Tom, Dick and Harry starting out their journeys at whatever time they wanted. I overstepped my mark, started making a few too many interferences to make things run to time, or create nice, neat, patterns. Things came to a head when the traffic camera came up on breakfast news one day, and every single car going clockwise on the London south circular was a beautiful bright cherry red, and the anti- clockwise lane was one long line of blue. I was moved out of traffic lights and reassigned. For a while, my new job felt like a relief. I was god of railway carriages. Not too hard I hear you say. Most of the time I just needed to let things follow the paths set down by Jeff in gravity and the other physics geeks. A little interference in the door system here and there to make sure a wife caught a cheating husband, or removing a bit of graffiti that might upset a delicate soul at the wrong time. But have you ever taken a look at the actual contents of your average train carriage? There's no rhyme or reason to it! Hardly any patterns at all to sooth my yearning for balance and order. You can have a load of punk rockers down one end, mixing with mums and buggies, while up the other end CEOs in business suits share space with a gang of street sweepers. It's more than I can take! Why or why can't, just for once, it all just come together? Office workers in one carriage, shop keepers in another! Even if there was just a little pattern in just one carriage! It would make it all so much easier to bear. And so, can you really blame me, when, that one Friday night, when one carriage was just oh so nearly perfect, that I just made one tiny little tweak to give me the order I so desired...... _______________________________ Adam was on his way home when everyone else was just on their way out. He'd had a long week, and while all the young boys and girls poured onto the train whooping and hollering and geeing themselves up for a night on the tiles, Adam was just dreaming of getting home to flop down on the sofa with his microwave meal for one, before dragging himself to bed. He was at the back of the crowd making their way into the carriage and he was moving rather more slowly, and so by the time he came to select a seat, which were arranged lengthways in two rows facing each other, there was only one left. It was only after he had sat down that Adam realised his slightly awkward position. To his left sat four attractive young women, each decked out in their finest dresses and miniskirts. Turning his head the other way he saw five more of the same ilk. Not only that, but he noted absent mindedly that every one of them possessed luxurious long blonde hair. None of this would have been at all irksome for Adam if it hadn't been for the occupants of the other side of the carriage. Left to right, taking up all ten seats, was one long bank of tall, dark and handsome. A plethora of pastel shirts, shining belt buckles and gleaming polished shoes ran from one end to the other. And it was soon clear that each of these two groupings had quite the magnetic affect upon the other, with poor Adam caught right in the middle. "Hey, where are you girls out to tonight?" "We're going to the west end. What about you guys?" "Well, I'm not sure we decided yet, but from where I'm sitting the west end is looking better and better!" Adam turned away in modesty as the girl to his right smiled to the man facing her and stretched her back, thrusting her well displayed cleavage forward for effect. Adam's reward for such discretion was a faceful of hair, as the babe to his left flirtatiously tossed her head to send a dazzling smile across to the guy opposite. Just as he was recovering from this softest of assaults he found himself pinned to his seat as slender arms passed lipstick from left to right and then mascara back the other way. Adam tried to simply stare at the floor and make himself as small as possible while these two assembled ranks of male and female sexuality made arrangements between them for what looked like being a very fruitful night. It was clear that Adam was just downright in the way, and even worse, the man opposite him was now trying to muscle in on the hair-flicker beside him, causing a visible growing tension between two guys both after the same girl. Adam drew in a deep breath, barricading himself against the flirting around him, and waiting just to come out the other side. He inhaled sharply and held his breath for a moment, his chest and stomach pushed out. On his exhale, he found himself rather confused, as it seemed to go on for several seconds too long, without his lungs beginning to feel empty. When he finally finished, he realised that he felt rather strange. His chest and stomach had fallen as he breathed out, as would normally be expected, but had they actually fallen too far? His ribcage felt smaller, and he was sure he wasn't imagining that his waist now seemed smaller too. The train rolled on and Adam almost forgot about the apparent changes to his body amidst the rampant flirting now raging on either side of him. Men flexed their arms and women giggled and pouted. Nowhere was the noise louder than directly across from him where the two guys were still working furiously hard to impress the single lady. Adam felt annoyed, but also perhaps, if he was honest, a little bit of him was jealous. This used to be him a few years ago, going out with the boys and hitting on girls. Most of his friends were now fully hooked up with wives and girlfriends while Adam remained alone, focussed on working hard in a job that paid OK, but heaped pressure and stress on his head. It was in this attitude of resentment that, when he felt again hair brushing his face, he turned somewhat angrily toward what he imagined was another suggestive head-flicking female. He was confused to find himself faced with an empty space, as the girl occupying the seat was leant forward, whispering something into the ear of the boy across the way. Where had that hair come from then? Adam asked himself. He stopped for a moment and realised that he still felt it on his face. He brought his hand up to the side of his head and jumped when he encountered thick long tresses tumbling over his ears. He held the unfamiliar hair in front of his face, and watched, open mouthed as it grew longer through his fingers, and at the same time lightened from his own mousey brown, to a bright platinum blonde. He gasped in shock, sharply taking in a breath, which to his surprise kept on going for a little longer than it should have. His lungs reached capacity, but somehow he drew in more air, and as he did, he experienced a strange sensation in his chest, feeling with astonishment, i rising in the fleshy area on top of his ribcage. Finally he released his breath, but this time there was no mistaking it: His outward breath continued on and on as he felt his waist contract further and further, collapsing inwards until it seemed ridiculously small under his hands. Adam looked around in terror, searching for an explanation, but no-one was paying him any attention. Adam now held his breath, desperate not to feed whatever it was that was changing him. But Adam was no champion free-diver. It was only a few seconds before he began to breathe again, and when he did, the effects were dramatic. His chest swelled again, and he felt it begin to strain against his shirt, which had for some reason taken on a new pinkish hue. He could see the buttons begin to stretch, opening up gaps through which he could see twin rising mounds of flesh. He grasped at them, finding them soft and malleable beneath his touch. They grew and grew, filling his hands, and didn't stop until they were each at least the size of his head. His shirt was now undeniably red in colour and seemed also to have transformed to shiny satin. He felt it wrap tight around his narrow waist and blend together in front, the lower buttons falling to the floor. His two top buttons gave way, forcing what was now clearly the top half of a red dress outwards, displaying a magnificent cleavage of two great breasts pushed upwards and together by a bra that had materialised beneath his dress. Adam was in full panic mode, but still he continued to breathe inwards, and now the expansion shifted from his chest to his hips. He felt them spread beneath him on the seat, and was then pushed up as his bottom and thighs grew plump to match, straining against his trousers. He waved his hands in the air in shock, and saw that he now possessed long, red- painted fingernails. No-one around him expressed any concern for this change of events and the chatter continued unabated, though Adam did catch the guy opposite staring at his new tits, briefly breaking away from his pursuit of miss flicky-hair. The man, realising he was busted, looked up into Adam's eyes and flashed him a cheeky smile. Adam was horrified to find himself smiling back and batting his unusually long eyelashes, driven by a strange wave of warm excitement as he felt himself the subject of this man's attention. Whatever this was, he had to stop it! He concentrated hard to force his bright vacuous smile into a serious disapproving frown. The guy across the way just chuckled and turned away, dismissing the super-silly girly who didn't seem to know what she wanted. Adam had now reached the pinnacle of his latest breath and began to exhale. The effects this time were nothing short of astonishing. His arms and hands slimmed, taking on an elegant feminine appearance. His lower legs narrowed, even as they lengthened and he couldn't believe his eyes as his trousers thinned till they were almost entirely transparent tights, while what had been his shirt crept over and just beyond his round juicy bottom, coming to rest a good foot above his new, smaller, knees. Adam was now almost completely female, his smooth nylon-wrapped legs swishing together as he crossed them, and his huge creamy boobs bouncing on his chest with the sway of the train carriage. He should have been apoplectic, but he wasn't. He knew it wasn't right. He was a man on his way home from work, not a sexy blonde girl about to hit the town. But somehow it didn't cause him to panic. It felt good. Maybe a little funny. A little laugh escaped his newly plump lips and the surprise he felt at the girly giggle that reached his ears was not horror, but excitement. "Hey babe, you having a good night?" asked the man sitting across from Adam. He was a big man, his broad powerful chest clear even through his blue shirt. Adam couldn't deny the flutter he felt and smiled back at the man. He giggled and nodded and twirled one of his golden curls in his fingers. This wasn't right, his mind screamed. This shouldn't be happening. But it was. And it was fun. A little harmless flirtation never hurt anyone. And even if it could, Adam felt like his response was almost out of his control. It was his brain that told his fingers to play with his hair. But the instruction came from somewhere deep in his mind. Somewhere primal. Somewhere, he realised, where he was deeply horny. Really horny. Like, seriously turned on. The changes in his body seemed to have left behind an afterglow of wild raging hormones. "Hi I'm Joe," said the hunk who had his eyes firmly set on Adam. "Hi I'm....um....Evie," Adam replied. Where had that come from? he thought. His name wasn't Evie. It was EVIE. What? No! He wasn't a girl called Evie, he was a man called......called....... Joe's smile grew wider as his eyes roamed up and down Evie's gorgeous figure. How had he not noticed the hottest girl in the group, the hottest girl in this city, sitting across from him this whole time! Evie watched Joe drinking her in and a joy rose in her heart. She was pretty! Really pretty! She was sexy and she loved it! Should she love being pretty, she asked herself? There seemed something wrong about it. She shouldn't be pretty, she should be strong, handsome....shouldn't she....but it felt so good.... She felt Joe's gaze on her neck like a kiss and on her breasts like a caress. Then suddenly his expression changed. He looked confused as he reached her crotch. Evie looked down, having to crane her neck to see past her enormous tits, and saw the problem. A bulge! There was still a little bit of her former self, poking up against her red satin dress. Quickly, instinctively she sucked in as hard as she could, and she was so relieved as her dick was quickly pulled up inside. At least most of her was relieved. Another part of her, another little remnant, cried out in shock at what he had just willed to happen. On the out breath she felt a warm moistness descend through her body, settling between her legs. It felt just magical as she felt a small mound swell down below, before splitting out to form into the most perfect, tight, little pussy, just beginning to drip in anticipation under Joe's stimulating attention. WHOOSH! went the door as they reached a stop, and suddenly there was movement all around them as boys and girls stood and made their way in powerful strides and tip-tapping little high-heeled steps towards the exit. Evie and Joe, locked in enraptured gaze, were the last to rise. Finally only the two of them were left and Joe gallantly lent a hand to the damsel across the carriage. Evie placed her smaller hand in Joe's and rose up on her four inch stilettos, teetering in confusion for just a second before some special balancing instinct kicked in. Joe was several inches taller than her and she looked up into his eyes to whisper her thanks. That is so polite of him! Thought Evie as Adam allowed her to go ahead of him. She turned round to give him a smile and batted her eyelashes, before making her way out, finding walking very strange now her thighs were constrained by her tight minidress and her feet were perched atop towering heels. She felt a little embarrassed by how she had to push out her plump bottom and arch her back to maintain her balance, but she was soon encouraged by the sight of the similarly swirling posteriors of her BFFs ahead of her. They looked just great, so she must look great too! Whoo! Evie just loved being pretty! As she left the carriage, Evie's newfound belief in her own appearance received independent confirmation in the form of a light slap on her arse. She squeeked in surprise and whirled around to meet Joe's grinning face. Suddenly his hands were around her waist, making her feel so small. She felt both overpowered and safe at once, and stared deeply into the eyes of her captor and potential protector. His grip on her was so strong and solid, yet gentle as well. He was about to release her, but she didn't let him. Instead she pulled him in close and she felt her boobs press up against his chest. His attention moved from her face down to her cleavage and while a small part of her still told her that this was wrong, that she was still a man, the growing warmth between her legs over-rode her thoughts entirely. All she could think was YES! Take these breasts! They're for you! Your reward for making me your woman and taking care of me! He was still unsure, astonished to have hit such a jackpot, but Evie was sure. She moved his hand to her breast and he gently stroked the curving contour through her red satin dress. He moved his cheek next to hers and Evie shuddered with the feeling of his rough stubble against her own soft skin. He moved closer still, taking in the feminine scent of her neck and pressing his lips to her collarbone. Evie heard a soft moan escape her lips, providing Joe with the encouragement his powerful body deserved. Soon his mouth reached the upper slopes of her breasts and she moved her arms together, pushing them upwards for him to taste. Joe now didn't need a second invitation, and he tugged hard on her dress, causing one giant, round, perfectly formed tit to burst out, jiggling and free. Evie squirmed in pleasure as Joe consumed her, licking slowly around her deep pink areola before lightly biting her nipple. The hand on her breast now moved to her lower back, pinning her in place, while the hand that had held her waist now slithered down to squeeze her soft plump arse, kneading and rubbing her flesh. In a flash, Evie found herself spun and lifted, and felt the cold tiles of the station wall on her back. She lifted a long elegant leg and wrapped it around her assailant. Joe responded by raising his face from her tits and kissing her long and hard on her mouth. Evie parted her soft lips and sucked on his tongue. Their bodies writhed together back and forth, woman against man, softness against hardness. Once again Evie was lifted, and this time Joe took several steps with Evie, his trophy, lifted, light as a feather, into the air, before lowering himself onto a platform bench. A light flickered above them on the empty platform, as if disturbed by the electricity sparking between them. The couple continued as before as Evie sat on her new man's lap. Soon her dress was pulled down around her ribcage and she whimpered as Joe massaged her breasts with both hands, occasionally leaning in to add his tongue to the mix. Evie could feel Joe's dick pressing into her crotch as she ground in against him, and soon she could stand it no longer. So what if ten minutes ago she had been a man. Now she was a woman and she was gagging for cock. Standing up, she leant forward over Joe's seated form and slowly, ever so slowly, dragged her enormous tits down along his muscular chest and stomach until they rested either side of the bulge in his trousers. He began to buck his hips in anticipation and Evie looked up into his eyes in response, smiling and then biting her fat lower lip. With her manicured nails she worked upon his button and flies and released her prize, which to her girlish delight sprang to attention immediately. Evie had never paid any attention before to another man's penis, and her rational mind knew that she used to think even the concept to be disgusting. But how could that be, when the proud powerful rod now hard and throbbing just for her, was so, well, so yummy! Giddy with the thought that so much deliciousness could be all for her, and so desperately wanting to please it's owner, she gingerly extended her tongue and touched it to the tip. She looked up to Joe for reassurance and was rewarded with a soft stroke of her long blonde hair like a beloved pet. She leant in closer and began to swirl her tongue left and right around the head of Joe's cock. It tasted salty: manly and powerful. She wanted to welcome it into her body. She pressed her juicy lips against it and then slid them slowly, firmly down the shaft, taking him inside her for the first time. She knew that she wanted to be a warm welcoming home for him. Joe grunted and Evie couldn't help herself but moan in response, her soft lips quivering around Joe's dick as they began to bob up and down along it's length. She reached up to cradle his testicles, precious repositories of his virile seed that she desired so greatly. Instinctively her other hand migrated to her own crotch, slipping inside her red lace panties and massaging her swollen clit. Joe had a good hold of Evie's golden hair now and applied pressure to increase her speed. It was a little faster than Evie was comfortable with and she felt his dick press against the back of her throat, but she persevered. Her role was to do what Joe wanted. It was all that mattered. Joe began to buck his hips hard and Evie readied herself to receive his load. But Joe had other ideas. With his firm grip on her hair he pulled her away. She stretched out her tongue as his dick departed from her mouth, whimpering as she lost connection. But she didn't need to worry for long. Joe pulled her on top of him, pulling up the hem of her dress and yanking her panties to one side, before pushing her hard onto his engorged cock. Evie screamed in pleasure as he filled her up, her virgin pussy pulsing around his hard shaft. His hands were at her waist, moving her in the rhythm he dictated, back and forth upon his lap. Evie grabbed her giant tits and pressed them together for Joe's appreciation and focussed all of her thoughts to the sensation in the narrow passage between her legs which was exploding with pleasure. Evie's screams now grew louder. Soon they began to mingle with another sound; the rumbling of a train approaching the platform, but Evie and Joe were not to be outdone. He thrust up harder and harder inside her, and Evie's screams grew louder, more than enough to compete with the train as she switched from a rocking motion to pumping directly up and down upon his shaft, her boobs bouncing wildly on her chest. Up and down, again and again and again. She felt him twitch inside her as her own orgasm approached. Precisely as the train rushed out of the tunnel both powerful man and beautiful woman reached their climax, Evie arching her back as Joe's dick pumped string after string of hot sticky cum up inside her. The doors of the train opened and revellers of all shapes and sizes poured out. With Joe still hard and twitching inside her, Evie hastily rearranged her dress to cover up her tits and arse. More than a few looks were cast in their direction but few appreciated that they were still locked in the act of coitus. It was only once the platform cleared again that a giggling Evie and a smug as shit Joe cleaned themselves up and followed after, to brave the knowing looks of their friends in the bars and clubs of the high street. It was going to be a fun night. Somewhere, a god called Bob smiled sheepishly. Perhaps he was more creative than he thought after all?