In Nockton Vale Man Wanted Final Chapter Eight
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In Nockton Vale - Man: Wanted - Chapter One free porn video
Chapter One
A Woman in Need of a Man
1
I needed a man. That was my problem.
No. Scratch that.
What I needed was a workman - a big brawny hunk with muscles everywhere
and absolutely no strings attached who also worked for free. I didn't
want a boyfriend - certainly not a husband - not for now at least. I'd
been scorched one too many times already by the man-fire. No. Men were
trouble.
But that did leave me in a tough spot with this blasted house.
I'd inherited a fixer-upper in the most complete sense from my elderly
mother and not much else in terms of cash. It was a big house in the
oldest suburb of Nockton Vale but it needed an awful lot of work - most
of which I didn't have the upper body strength or technical wherewithal
to get on with. With my own business as a dressmaker taking an awful hit
in the recession I was practically unemployed. Losing my mum had been
painful and difficult but this house had been a Godsend in its
bittersweet way. If only I could get it fixed up and on the market.
I didn't need a home this big by far but if I could sell it for a tidy
enough sum I could downsize quite happily and reinvest the spare capital
to get my business back afloat. Right now it barely existed beyond a blog
I didn't update regularly enough and a web store that was in need of a
serious overhaul.
The trouble was, I wasn't cut out for DIY - I never had been. If there
had been a girl at my school when I was growing up less likely to end up
picking up a hammer I couldn't think of her. I didn't have a masculine
bone in my body. I was all flouncy skirts and court shoes, tight feminine
tops and delicate intricate hairstyles that took the better part of an
hour to sculpt in the morning. I was bangles and make-up and careful
chosen colour-coordinated outfits. I was manicured nails and girly
hobbies. I loved to embroider and sew. I enjoyed crafts of all kinds. I
was forever planning my next intricate and homemade birthday gift for
friends, like bookmarks and scrap books, cushion covers and hand-crafted
candles.
I did own some tools, normal and electrically-powered, inherited from my
dad, but I didn't have a clue as to the best way to use them. I usually
got a friend to help me, even when changing a light bulb if I couldn't
afford to hire in an electrician. And I definitely couldn't afford that
right now.
I was cut off from my friends now too. They all lived over seventy miles
away. I'd moved away from my parents after college but I'd come back here
to Nockton Vale to do the house up. I didn't actually know anyone apart
from the postman and even that was only in passing.
It was kind of a disaster.
I was trying to repaint the hallway but I'd already dripped paint on the
stair carpet. I couldn't get the dust sheets to stay in position and the
ladder was almost too heavy for me to lift. The painting itself had
already worn me out and I'd hardly got any done. At this rate it was
going to take years to get the house finished!
It was so frustrating!
I thunked the roller back into the paint tray and cried out in
exasperation. I'd just about had enough of the whole thing. I was tempted
to sell the house cheap and quickly. It wouldn't be as good an investment
that way but maybe that was all I was capable of. At least I could start
to get my life back on track, such as it was.
Feeling angry at myself, I decided to go out instead of wasting any more
time.
If in doubt, run away: that was the motto I'd based my life around so far
and it had always done me proud.
I covered up the paint tray and got out of my scrappy clothes; took a
long hot shower, cursing my bad luck and wishing my life had panned out
differently.
I never left the house as a rule without looking my best so I spent an
hour or so drying and setting my hair, applying my makeup and picking out
the best ensemble. I was only going to drift round the shops but there
was no reason not to look good at the same time.
I settled in the end for a gypsy-style top with a wide neck off the
shoulder and puffy sleeves. I chose a long skirt and boots to complement
it and did my hair up with little ringlets cascading over my ears. I
loved earrings - big and small. I chose some larger ones and smiled at
myself in the full length mirror by the front door.
I knew I shouldn't be shirking my duties but I couldn't bear to waste
another minute inside this stuffy old place. I had to get out!
And anything could happen while I was out. Nockton Market was famous for
its surprising little knickknacks. Maybe something there could answer all
my prayers...
2
Nockton town centre was split in two by Hurley Park and each side had a
different flavour. The south side was, on the whole, the standard high
street shops that could be found anywhere: big department stores and
ladies fashions. I tended to do most of my shopping there but I also had
an eye for the eclectic.
The side south of Hurley Park was closer to the age of Chauncy where my
house was. The Narrows. It was slender streets and timbre framed
buildings; little claustrophobic squares tucked well out of the way. That
was where Nockton Market was, not in an open place but tucked into the
labyrinthine streets and alleys. Some of the shops there were effectively
open market stalls stretching back indoors but in other places the
streets themselves were filled - in places from one side to the other -
with canopy covers and tables strewn with bric-a-brac or quirky artwork.
Obviously I had almost no money to spend but I had never let that deter
me before. I loved the Narrows. I loved the surprises waiting around each
corner. Yes, a lot of it was cheap tat but there were some extraordinary
artisans who lived here, many it seemed in the tiny garrets above the
constricted streets. It was possible to stumble across hand-crafted items
of extraordinary skill and ingenuity. I couldn't buy any of it, even
though the prices were usually fairly reasonable, but there was no harm
in looking.
I wandered the cobbles with a dreamy smile on my face, glad to be
distracted from the pressure and guilt of doing up the house. Would that
I could win the lottery and do this all day, every day, with cash in my
handbag to buy it all!
But you had to be in it to win it, and I wasn't. I preferred to forge my
own destiny.
I got a good share of admiring glances from the men but I didn't give out
any hooks to reel them in. It was flattering to be noticed but I really
wasn't in the right place for romance at the moment.
After half an hour or so, when I was about as deep into the Narrows as
I'd ever gone (though I suspected not as far as the centre), I found a
little stall I hadn't seen before filled with darling local jewellery.
Each piece was crafted from stone, a selection of necklaces and earrings;
even rings; plus some more decorative ornaments of varying sizes
including some lovely carved pebbles. The stone was formed with intricate
swirling designs with no signs of chippings. It was all very high
quality. Despite my status as a pauper I tarried longer, examining many
of the pieces.
A lady with long curly red hair showering around her shoulders manned the
stall. She smiled at me in a very relaxed and content way, obviously
ready to step forward if I made an enquiry but giving me the space to
browse. I raised my eyebrows and smiled back at her.
"The stone is all locally sourced," she said.
"Mined?"
She shook her head. "Not really. Just found. Around the ravine. Loose
rocks."
"Oh, cool." I imagined her foraging near the cliffs above town, carefully
picking out the best pieces. I picked up one of the rings. I'd never seen
a ring carved from stone before. It was lovely. I pinched it in my
fingertips and turned it back and forth. The sigils on its surface were
black grooves but something glistened in the crevices as I turned it.
"That's one of my favourites," said the woman.
I made eye contact and smiled.
"It's very special."
"Yes; lovely; but..." It wasn't quite as narrow as I was expecting now I
got a closer look. "Is it for a man or a woman?"
"Either," she replied. "It's unisex. I try to keep most of my items
gender-neutral to broaden the appeal."
"It is nice." Before I could stop myself I glanced at the price tag. "And
not too expensive." I was pleasantly surprised. I was almost tempted.
"Maybe I'll just try it on."
I hooped the ring over the end of my first finger and started to slide it
into place. I could tell it was going to fit me before it was half way
down.
I paused, revolving it slightly, then pulled it back off and set it back
on the table. "Thank you, but..." I stepped back then looked down at it.
The woman was still smiling, eyebrows raised slightly; expectantly.
The ring was pretty...
"I'll take it," I said, reaching for my purse.
I couldn't afford it - I really couldn't - but it called out to me. I
couldn't resist it.
The red haired lady picked it up and popped it carefully in a tiny purple
paper bag then taped it closed and accepted payment.
She passed me the bag and I thanked her for it, then I put it in my
handbag and went on my way.
3
I didn't remember the ring until much later; well after I returned home.
I was procrastinating again, doing anything to put off getting down to
work. My latest excuse was a sudden and desperate need to tidy my
handbag. I decided that it couldn't possibly wait and definitely took a
higher priority than painting the stair walls.
There was a lot of crap in the bag: old receipts, makeup, cinema tickets,
old batteries, shoe laces. It was kind of ridiculous. I made three piles:
things I wanted to keep in there, worthwhile items that didn't deserve to
be crammed inside, and shit that needed chucking out as soon as possible.
The bag with the ring in was about to go into the third pile when it came
back to me and I ripped it open. The ring dropped out onto my palm.
I stared at it for a minute then flipped it over, tracing the intricate
designs. I didn't know now what possessed me to throw good money away on
it, but it was pretty. I held it up between finger and thumb, looking
through the hole, then slipped it without ceremony onto the first finger
of my left hand.
I held my hand up, admiring it, really loving it actually, then my
fingers curled and I frowned, feeling... odd.
In fact I felt very odd suddenly. It was almost... It was painful; like... It
reminded me of a wound I'd had as a girl that went septic - the
scratching feeling that had spread up my arm until I'd taken antibiotics
to clear it.
Like something was in my blood, spreading up my arm from...
"Oh my God."
The ring.
I held my hand up in front of my face, fingers splayed, staring at it.
It felt cold to the touch but that cold was burning me like ice would. My
hand was shaking.
I reached to pull it off with my other hand but gasped, pulling my
fingers clear when they got burned too.
The pinched scraping in my blood vessels was most of the way up my arm. I
had to do something. I had to take it off!
But then a flicker of light flashed, dazzling me, a free-floating pulse
of energy close to eye level. No more than two seconds later I felt a
compression all over my body but churning into my stomach, clawing down
at it with a terrible weight.
Another flickering flash pop. I closed my eyes.
The pain was in my chest. In my heart.
And then suddenly it was everywhere.
I snatched at the ring, pulling on it, ignoring the burning on my other
fingers, gritting my teeth and moaning with the exertion.
It had to come off!
But then another flash came, brighter than the others, accompanied by a
deep rumble and then a tearing snap, and instantaneously, all the strange
sensations vanished and I fell against the table, breathing erratically,
almost wheezing.
All the strength was gone from my limbs. I could barely raise my head.
When I managed to eventually I caught sight of my hand resting on the
table close to my ear and stopped dead.
It wasn't my hand.
It wasn't my hand at all.
It was a man's hand: big and feathered with hairs! It had thick stubby
fingers and blunt nails, the skin tough and leathery.
I jerked upright, raising it to look at, then snapped up the other one.
It was the same! Two men's hands connected to my arms!
And there on my left hand was the ring - the stone ring - and it still
fit me perfectly!
4
I scrabbled up and back from the table, knocking the kitchen chair over
onto the floor.
It wasn't just my hands. It was my arms and my legs and my torso. I
looked down my body in disbelief, clutching at my broad but suddenly flat
chest.
"Bloody hell!" My hand went to my mouth as though it were grabbing for
the deep masculine syllables that had just come through my lips. There
was stubble on my upper lip, on my chin and cheeks. Against my face my
fingers scraped, big and clumsy.
My clothes had changed. My clothes had changed too! I wasn't wearing the
gypsy top and skirt anymore. In the flashes of light it had changed to a
chequered shirt and jeans, the cuffs of the shirt folded back almost to
the elbow.
My forearms were double the thickness that they'd used to be, the skin a
lot darker, the same thin web of downy hair down their length. I looked
at them, turning them, then touched my face, the suddenly short hair on
my head, starting to really panic.
It was the ring. It had to be the ring!
I grabbed at it and pulled, but it was tight. I became even more frantic,
yanking so hard it was painful. I thought it was stuck fast but it
shifted and I gasped in relief.
Then I stopped. I kept my fingers on it ready to pull but I raised my
head, looking away, thinking. I glanced back to the ring then away out
the window.
I pushed the ring back into place.
I had to see what this looked like. While it was still happening.
Apart from the odd glistening in the carved grooves, the ring didn't look
magical in the least and it had started to come off. I could take it off
in a minute.
I suddenly felt very calm.
There was no hurry. Logic said I would change back to myself when I took
it off. I had no intention of putting it back on again once it was off so
maybe... I should just take a look in a mirror - see what I looked like.
A slow grin spread across my lips.
This was scary as hell but it was also kind of exciting! Me: looking like
a man!
I considered it for a moment longer then went through to the hall,
approaching the mirror nervously. And there I was.
I really was a man! There wasn't anything feminine about me! And I wasn't
bad looking either. I was at least a few inches over six feet, much
taller than I had been, even in heels. My new body was big. Very big. My
shoulders were broad, arms thick and muscular, thighs like iron. My chest
and torso were huge. The body wasn't skinny there was a lot of mass but
it seemed to be mostly muscle; maybe like a heavyweight boxer off-season,
just slightly off-prime.
My hair was short round the sides and back but full of body (and product)
on top. I had sideburns!
I stepped closer to the mirror to see my face better.
My face.
My head and neck were as big and masculine as my body. My normally
slender eyebrows were now bushy. My eyes were squarer, my lips almost
skin-coloured. I had strong carven cheekbones and dimple creases.
I chuckled and grinned at myself. This was incredible! It had really
happened!
"I'm a man," I said, surprised again by the voice, so deep that it
sounded like it came from the bottom of a well.
This was absolutely crazy! But I loved it!
(As long as I could change back - I definitely didn't want to stay this
way)
I grinned again, picking a name at random. "My name's Geoff. I'm just
visiting my sister, Alison. I'll be in town for a few days at least."
I just stared at myself in awe. It was simply incredible. I didn't just
look and sound different because I was a man now, there was a slight
difference to the way I was talking. The syllables were more precisely
edged. It wasn't the excessively clipped sounds of a private school man
but it was leaning a bit more in that direction than I normally did.
I stepped away from the mirror.
It was truly amazing but the electrification I was feeling was scratching
away at me. I'd had my look now and I was anxious I wouldn't be able to
change back to myself. I'd had enough of this. I wanted to go back.
I gripped the ring then paused and got one more look at myself in the
mirror. The rugged lumberjack looked back at me with incredulity and
wonder.
Just for a second I focused on the ladder and paint through the
reflection beyond me. I wondered if... Imagine how much easier it would be
to do that as a man...
But no. I'd had enough. More than enough. This was too weird. I wanted to
be myself again. What if it didn't let me change back? I couldn't waste
anymore time.
I tugged on the ring. It didn't budge. I pulled again, twisting it, and
this time it slid up to the middle bend of my finger.
The skin there tingled, the scratching in my veins starting up again. My
head felt muzzy, the air in the hallway thickening.
I looked at the paint, considering pushing the ring back down into place.
I hung there with it just part way off, then I slid it right off and away
from my hand.
The flickers of light came: just a brief flash first, then another
broader one. The discomfort ran through my body, concentrating in my
bowels as a denseness. I put my hands to my stomach. Then there was a
third and final burst of light and I stepped back, myself again; a woman.
The shudders of the change echoed through my body, spiking my heart rate.
The tightness in my throat held on for almost a minute, then it subsided.
I looked at myself in the mirror again, oddly surprised by how much
smaller and slimmer I was, by the flouncy femininity of my hair and
clothes.
"Oh my God," I breathed. "That was amazing!"
I put the ring down on the hall table where I tended to leave my keys and
handbag and stepped quickly away in case it reached out and got me again.
I was practically panting, looking back at myself and feeling my body,
convincing myself I was a woman again but finding it hard already to
believe it had really happened.
I went closer to the table and prodded the ring with the end of my index
finger. It nudged back but showed no sign of having magical properties.
I withdrew and closed my arms round my chest, watching it warily.
I didn't know quite what to think.
The memory of the scratching pain was fresh in my mind but also the
incredible sense of strength and calm I'd had.
Part of me wanted to label it as dangerous but the other part had simply
enjoyed it.
I wondered what to do with it. I definitely didn't want to put it on
again. No way.
I looked at the painting things.
But it was tempting...
5
No more than half an hour went by after the transformation before I
started to question whether it had ever really happened.
Surely it hadn't; but the memory was clear. I could picture the masculine
face looking back at me from the mirror with nothing but curiosity.
I hadn't moved the ring from the hall table since I'd put it there and I
found myself placing my magazine down and loitering in the lounge
doorway, looking across at it.
There was one sure way to test whether I'd really imagined it of course...
Just walk over there and put it back on.
But I didn't feel comfortable with the idea of that. What if... it worked
but only a certain number of times. I couldn't imagine anything worse
than getting stuck as a man. I loved being a woman far too much for that.
Some women I'd known had a bee in their bonnet about how much easier men
had it than them, especially when it came to feminine hygiene and the
constant pressure to look our best. I wasn't one of these women. Looking
good was one of my main sources of fun and relaxation. Paying for six
months in advance at the local gym and spa had been one of my top
priorities when I moved back into town. I loved to pamper myself and was
forever trolling the net and magazines for new ideas for makeup,
hairstyles and clothes.
I crossed the hall to the table and crouched so I was almost at eye level
with the ring. I eyed the painting things again.
It would be handy if I could just put on that body like a pair of
overalls. I giggled. Imagine how quickly I could do the house up if I
could just become a man in the morning, work all day at the DIY, then
change back to myself in the evening!
I chewed my lip then shook my head. No. It was too weird. And possibly
dangerous. I should tell somebody about it; maybe sell it. Surely a real
magic ring should be worth a fortune!
Except... I didn't want to do that, at least yet. I felt... oddly possessive
of it. I didn't want anyone else to know about it. They might try to take
it off me. And I had felt so wonderful as a man. I wasn't ready to give
it another go but I didn't want to lose my chance either.
There was a little drawer built into the hall table. I opened it, then
used an envelope to push it to the edge so it dropped in.
I closed the drawer. Safe.
Then I yelped with fright when the doorbell buzzed.
It was an old overloud buzzer that had been there before my parents
bought the place. My heart was hammering from the shock of it as I went
across and opened the door.
Mr. Crabtree, the man who lived next door was standing there, his face
drawn and tense. Even though he was one step down he was still taller
than me. His arms were folded and he glared down at me as he said,
"Excuse me miss, but I noticed you've moved some of my property." He went
on glaring, waiting for a response.
"Er, do you mean--?"
"I mean the items I was storing between the houses." He pointed.
"Oh, er, yes," I said. "I'm sorry about that. They were blocking the side
access to the garden."
"And you didn't think to ask?"
"No, sorry. I--"
"I have been storing my property there for many a year before you came
along young lady and I don't appreciate you sticking your nose in."
"I'm sorry," I said, feeling embarrassed. "I did knock on your door but
no one was home and as that area is actually part of my property--"
"I don't think it is," snapped Crabtree. "My things have been there for
years and I never had any trouble from your father."
"Well he did actually used to tell me that he'd tried to stop--"
"I don't appreciate you taking liberties with my property. Is that
clear?"
"Yes. Sorry. I shouldn't have moved it without your permission."
"You shouldn't have moved it at all. That's my land. You should mind your
own business. Do you understand?"
I started to open my mouth to broach the property ownership question but
he turned his back on me and walked off, leaving me feeling guilty and
angry and frustrated and ashamed.
I closed the door, mostly peeved at myself for not standing up to him. He
wouldn't have talked to me that way if I'd been a...
"Hmmm."
I eyed the drawer under the hall table.
What if I just put it on long enough to go round there and...?
No. Bad idea. It was plain weird. I loved my femininity. The idea of
being in a man's body again, even for ten minutes was creepy and
unpleasant.
Instead, I walked over to the paint tray at the foot of the stairs. I
really had to get on with this. It had already taken much longer than I'd
intended and the council tax and bills were going to be crippling if I
kept this going. It was a total disaster.
I tapped the paint tray with my toe.
I just couldn't be bothered to go through with it.
I checked my watch. Five thirty. Almost time for tea. There was no point
starting it again now. I had to stop to eat sometime and it would
probably be too dark later.
I shrugged and walked toward the kitchen. I'd done enough for one day.
Tomorrow I could really get on with it. That was what I'd do: work twice
as hard tomorrow.
I stopped in the kitchen doorway and looked back at the drawer.
I chewed my lip, thinking of the alternative then disappeared inside.
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