The Virtuous Woman free porn video

My peace and quiet was disturbed by a knock on my office door. Apparently my morning tea, a habit I had grown quite used to in my old age, was about to be disturbed by some idiotic student who must be unable to read the listed "office hours" on whichever syllabus they have for whatever class I'm about to fail them in. I shifted in my seat, sighed deeply, and said, "come in." It was instead Mark Cashew, an adjunct I'd hired a couple years back. "Wondering if I could have a moment of your time, Professor." "That's fine. Please make it quick." I had little use for Mark beyond the occasional chat commiserating over our equally failed love lives. Both of us had been divorced in the last year, and although my relationship was 20 years more mature than his, it still gave us some kind of connection. We would occasionally drop by each other's office and "check in." While I had the reputation of being a bit miserable, even I wasn't above the need for some socializing. Our ex-wife problems were fairly dissimilar however in that I was happy the beast was gone while Mark took his divorce so hard that I wondered how he got through alive. Mark sat down. "I don't want to take up too much of your time. I know we have a break coming up and wanted to invite you down to the Outer Banks for a week or so of ocean air and nice weather. How about it?" I raised my eyebrows. Mark came from a fairly well off family in upstate New Jersey and they had bought some property on the NC coast a few years ago. While Mark used it relatively often since he lived the closest to it here in Virginia, his father had kept the property in his name. It was probably the only thing left in this area that wasn't taken in Mark's divorce. He had invited me to this beach house one other time, this past summer, and I had declined then. I had no interest in spending my vacation time around another man, nevertheless Mark. I preferred my time alone. As if reading my mind, Mark spoke up before I could reply saying, "I'm probably only going to stay there one or two nights of break, honestly. I've been reading up on camping in a few of the wilder areas around. You know, sea turtles or swamps. Whatever. I just wanted to see if you're interested." "Actually, yes, I was about to say that I really wanted some time to myself but... if it is as you say and I will be alone most of the time then it sounds like a wonderful offer. I'll take you up on it. Thank you, Mark." I was going to turn 80 this year, but despite my diminished eyesight I could easily tell that Mark seemed relieved. I suppose he looked up to me. I was after all, a well-respected CNU Full Professor of Anthropology who had been published multiple times over in my various specialties. Those poor adjuncts are coming in at quite the rough time as well, being paid so little for so much work, so it cannot hurt to butter me up. Mark nodded and said he would email the details and as he shut the door I started considering what podcast or audio book I'd listen to for the trip there. These old bones of mine were going on a much needed vacation. ~ I pulled up to the large and relatively solitary beach house after hours of driving through eastern NC and an excruciating and pricey ferry ride to the Outer banks. My newer model Mercedes gave me no issues and as I pulled up I saw Mark's red Rav4, which I found to be hideous. The house was right beside the ocean and as soon as I opened my door I could hear the waves crashing and the sound of gulls. It was smothered in white latticework and light blue vinyl siding and every room seemed to have its own small balcony hanging off of it. I tromped up the front stairs feeling every year of my age in my steps. Unlike most octogenarians I knew, I had never had any serious hip problems, though I took medicine for moderate back and joint pain. My eyesight was poor but that was to be expected and manageable. My liver was another story. Constant check-ups were required to make sure I wasn't poisoning myself. I still had the occasional brandy. I had to live, damn it, but brandy (along with wine) were my most beloved pleasure in life before they were torn away from me by some sniveling doctor a few years back. I knocked on the door and Mark immediately opened it. He seemed overly excited to see me. Our differences in age were now more apparent than ever with mark a tanned thirty-something with a mop of youthful curly black hair still on his head. Without asking, Mark headed out to my car to get my things. I thanked him and said that I had only packed a couple of smaller duffel bags. Entering the beach house, I took the place in. The main floor was mostly open with couches and a kitchen. Almost the entirety of the main floor's view of the ocean was a large wall of glass with a pool in a deck beyond it. Everything was beige, white, or light blue. I suppose it was typical of the "coastal look" but I wanted my own little dark corner to find as well. Mark dropped my bags on the floor in the living room. "So where will I be staying." "Ah. Um, any room except for the one with the locked door is fine. Upstairs. Locked one is being renovated, so there's nothing in there." Mark seemed unconcerned with where I'd stay, I suppose because he wasn't planning on being here much. This was fine with me. After settling in, Mark asked me if I would like to have a drink with him to kick off the break. He read my mind and had a nice bottle of aged brandy in the cabinet, so of course I was for it. About a minute after swallowing the drink I warily sat down on one of the beige couches and drifted off to sleep. ~ I woke up cold, naked, and on a floor in pitch black darkness. I grunted and felt that not only did I have a cloth in my mouth but my body was restrained. My arms behind and under me and I could feel that they were asleep. I could breathe through my nose but that was it. I started squirming against the binds but it did nothing. What was going on? As my eyes adjusted to the darkness I saw that there were candles lit and a figure was standing near me. "Christ. You were supposed to be asleep for this." It was Mark's voice. I tried to say, "What are you doing?!" but it came out as muffled grunts. "I don't have anything else to knock you out with but this won't take much longer. I tried it out on a dog and it worked, so I'm fairly certain it will work for you, too." Mark was a psycho and I was his victim. This was like something out of a cheap horror movie, the kind I have no interest in. Was he going to kill me or torture me? What was this about a dog? I felt that I was in shock. "I... owe you an explanation. I mean, since you're awake. I'm sure you probably have a good idea of what's going on. You were always so much... smarter than me. Than I'll ever be." I looked anywhere I could. There were numerous candles and I was on a plastic sheet of some kind. There were rocks placed around my body. I had felt one brush against my leg a second ago. "Rocks, candles, dead cat, cracked open human skull, me and you. This is a pagan ritual sacrifice. Well, you and I both know the word 'pagan' is meaningless. This is something I picked up piecing together rituals here and there. Like I said, I tried it on a dog and it worked. I've got to admit, I'm a little nervous though. I'm probably going to go to jail for the rest of my life if it doesn't..." he trailed off. I saw the cat now. It was lying in a heap beside me. He was going to murder me for some psycho ritual. Mark had been some kind of serial killer all this time. How many other victims were there? He walked near me and said, "I needed an unloved person. No offense, but you are most definitely unloved, Professor. This is an ancient fertility ritual. You take an unloved and unwanted person, mark rocks with qualities of virtue, pour the blood of an animal out of a woman's skull in a circle around the man and then make this weird symbol and... well, I think I know what happens: I get a new mate and you just disappear. I'm sorry. Actually, I won't bother saying sorry. It's meaningless to apologize for something like this. Meaningless." Mark was going to... mate with me? He was completely insane. "I don't care if it sounds crazy to you, Professor. There are some other things like the animal you use is the age of the new mate, so I found a cat that was going to get put down that they estimated was late teens, early twenties. I know you're not dumb enough to think that 'cat years' bullshit comes into play here. Age is age. Anyway, the community is supposed to chant along with me while I pour the blood to give you your place in society but I'm going to have to skip that step. I hope that doesn't mess the whole thing up." Ok. I had a chance here. When he did this ritual and nothing happened maybe I could talk him into letting me go. If he believed me, I would get the hell out of here and then have him locked up. He seems deluded enough to possibly be convinced of things. I was so exposed and uncomfortable, but worrying for my life came first. "The rocks may be the most important part. In this Neolithic society, according to some recent findings in Brodgar, when you came of age they would do similar ritual with their youth and inscribe multiple stones with their eight male virtues: temperance & prudence; justice & truth; courage & mercy; dignity & humor. Or if female the virtues were: beauty & virility; devotion & obedience; empathy & sensitivity, consideration & modesty. There isn't a whole lot of evidence for strong early gender roles like this, but there you go. The way it was phrased I didn't know if the rocks should be inscribed with symbols for each word, beauty, obedience, etc., or the pairs so I went with both." I wanted him to get this over with but I was scared to death that when it didn't work, he would kill me. I stayed quiet and still. "The difference between the regular 'coming of age' ritual and this one is that the blood was poured out of a shell or other kind of inanimate object for the former. For this ritual, they used women's skulls to pour the blood when there were powerful men who needed more concubines, I think. I'm not sure. That'll take more study. I think they also forgot their past lives." He picked up the cracked skull. It was absurd that he was talking about academics at a time like this but since he had lost his mind, nothing was supposed to make sense. "Now I pour the blood, stand in the circle, and recite some basic details this new person's life." He started pouring the blood around the plastic sheet. "This unloved person is no longer. He will be reconstituted as an attractive female college student, an orphan with no family ties, on holiday with me, her true love. As the virtues are inscribed so shall she be." Mark was walking around and pouring blood from the skull. I felt real fear, physically within my being. It was like icy tendrils creeping into my brain and skin; alternatively my insides were hot like they were on fire. I had never experienced this level of fright. I tried to yell and strained against the gag. "A maiden of beauty and virility; devotion and obedience; empathy and sensitivity; consideration and modesty, and she will be mine." The iciness and heat reached a crescendo and then dissipated as Mark finished pouring the blood. I felt like the shock and fear were fueling my delirium but now that he had finished I did feel a sense of lightness, as if my fear had been lifted. Probably because now Mark would feel ridiculous. Schadenfraude? "Incredible. That was so fast." Mark turned on the overhead light and I could now see that we were in an empty room in the beach house with black blankets over the windows. I saw plainly the rocks and blood on the plastic sheet. I also saw tendrils of long brown hair in front of my face and large breasts on my chest. It had worked. Mark had turned me into a woman. I felt calm. Worried, but calm. I should have been panicking, but I wasn't. Mark walked towards me and said, "I'm sorry, dear. Guess the role- playing got out of hand. We can continue our vacation together now..." as he removed my gag. My voice was soft, feminine, and strangely kind as I said, "Mark, you are a monster. Change me back." Mark's eyes went wide and he turned pale. He backed away from me and started pacing. "You're still you? She's not supposed to remember! You're supposed to just be a new person. Oh God." He put his head in his hands and turned away from me. "I wanted a fresh start! Someone to love me unconditionally! An innocent girl I could start over with not... an old man who knows what a loser I am. A freak. You said it, a monster." "It's okay. We can fix this. Untie me and let me put on some clothes. I'm cold." I was so calm. In the back of my head I knew that I should be screaming, but I... no, that was wrong. We needed to put our heads together and figure something out. Mark regained a little composure but looked at me with some confusion. As he rolled me over to untie my arms, my plump new breasts fell one way or the other. My skin felt soft to the touch. I realized that there was nothing between my legs as well, but that my thighs were unbelievably smooth. As Mark began releasing my leg restraints as well, I began to notice how much bigger he seemed to me. Stronger, too. I was somewhat captivated by this notion. I rolled on my side and let my arms wake up. "I'll get you some clothes." Mark seemed to be in a daze as he walked out of the room. Suddenly I was thinking of escape. I should call 911. The police. I braced myself and lifted my body up. I was so much slimmer now, I immediately realized. My arms felt thin at my side and my breasts were a noticeable weight on my chest, but otherwise I felt normal. No, not normal: alert, strong, agile. Before I could get out the door, Mark appeared with a handful of clothes. "Are you... angry?" "Just give me the clothes." I took what appeared to be a white t-shirt and some jean shorts and started putting them on. The t-shirt was tight, somewhat low-cut, very much a woman's style, and my hard nipples were poking through. The jean shorts were very short but fit. It was strange having clothes that were so snug in the crotch. "Where did these come from?" "I... had some of my ex-wife's clothes in a drawer. I just threw them all in a bag. I didn't know about sizes or anything. I wanted it to work, but..." "Mark, let's go downstairs and get out of this room." I rubbed his back and he flinched at my touch. Why was I rubbing his back? As we walked down stairs I thought about what it really meant, all of this. "I can't believe that ancient rituals, blood magic, whatever you want to call it, is real. It's really... I mean, we're not just imagining this. You performed a ritual sacrifice and turned me into a woman." Why wasn't I angry? I sat on one of the bar stools near the kitchen in the main room and Mark sat beside me, looking at me quizzically. "I couldn't believe it when I tried the same thing with a mangy dog last month. It changed to a female, followed me around apparently in heat. I had to give it away." He paused. "You... aren't you angry?" I looked at him. His eyes looked plaintive. I felt the urge to run my hands through his curly dark hair. I wanted to see him smile. Mark, the adjunct who had just tied me up and violated me in a horrific and nightmarish way. I thought about running out of the house, getting in my car and driving away and I made a slight movement to do so then stopped with my heart beating extremely fast. I wasn't completely in control of myself but I couldn't explain why. "Something is different. Very different." I didn't want to say more. Part of me wanted to confide in Mark because I felt like I could trust him despite everything, but I wasn't completely irrational. "You have to be in some kind of shock..." I nodded. That must be it. "When you come to your senses, you're going to turn me in, aren't you?" He tensed up but I didn't feel like I was in danger. "I don't know. Who would believe me? Wait..." I stood up and walked to the front door and looked out at the driveway. My Mercedes was gone. "You didn't move my car did you?" "No." "Then this magic didn't just change me, it altered reality. I am probably now someone completely different." I put my hand on my flat stomach and then felt down to my crotch. I had ovaries and a womb now. A vagina. For the first time I also noticed that I was walking with excellent posture, and often gracefully on the balls of my feet. Before the change I had always been in a constant stoop. I looked back at Mark and brushed the hair out of my face. "Who... am I?" He stared in wonderment and shook his head. ~ After Mark went to where he dropped off my duffel bags earlier, we found a large white suitcase filled with women's clothes and accessories. There was a pocketbook inside with information indicating that I was in the body of a Heather Caldwell, from Richmond, Virginia, a freshman at CNU. She was 18 and turning 19 in a few weeks. There was a mobile phone with only two or three numbers on it, Mark's and a couple of pizza places. She didn't seem to have any friends or family. I wondered to myself if she was a virgin. While we looked through her things, I realized that some of them felt vaguely familiar. Fearing that I now had Heather's mind as well, I asked Mark to quiz me on things in my life that only I would remember and unfailingly I recalled everything he brought up. I hadn't ever realized before but Mark had a thick baritone voice and enunciated his words so well. We were in close proximity sorting through her suitcase and I would occasionally brush up against him which made me flush red with my heartbeat quickening. I hadn't felt like that since my first crush in grade school during the Great Depression, so many decades ago. This was an extremely foreign sensation. I tried to well up some emotion against him while we did all these things. Hate, anger, fear, and anything else similar seemed completely out of reach despite my knowing rationally that I should feel them. I did find that I resented him. I couldn't put my finger on why, but I did. I was also feeling impatient with him. Mild impatience and resentment were as negative as I could get. Mark seemed comfortable with me now walking around out of sight. Too comfortable, actually. He kept staring at my body, especially my chest. He was a little unhinged, and I wondered if he would dare to try something like tying me up again. Maybe he could tell that I was unable to raise a hand against him? I excused myself and made my way to the bathroom. I wanted a little privacy and I was curious to get a look at myself. The girl in the mirror looked so very young. Barely an adult. She had big blue eyes, pouty pink lips, and a button nose. Unblemished cream colored skin. Her eyebrows were a tiny bit thick and brown and she had longish hair with cascading bangs in front going to one side. Very long eyelashes. A perfect figure, thin waist but with a shapely hips and huge breasts. Her flat stomach and toned ass were assets of someone who took care of herself. She had the face of someone on the cover of a magazine that looked like it had been slightly touched up. I smiled at myself and it was a bright grin with dimples and full, cute cheeks that would melt even a cold heart like my own. It looked like she wasn't wearing makeup, but she was still stunning to gaze at. A true natural beauty. Beauty. Of course. Beauty was one of the virtues inscribed on the stones. What were they all? I caught my breath and tried to remember. I didn't want to ask Mark, even though I trusted him implicitly. I wanted to keep this to myself for now. Beauty was one. Devotion and obedience were two more, which probably explained my limited actions. Empathy was one, which is why I'm so concerned with Mark and how he feels. Modesty... I'm not sure about that one. Those were all I could remember. Also, virility, which made sense because it was a fertility ritual. So there are two I don't remember, but those six seem to be enough to explain a few things. Devotion and obedience are the scary ones. Does this mean that if Mark asks me to do something I have to do it? What are the limits? I'm still myself in a way and if it's as he said and the transformation isn't complete, then there have to be limits. But I can't do anything to hurt him, I know that. That's devotion. I pulled my jean shorts down enough to look at my new genitalia. There was a decent amount of hair around that area, which I thought was gross. I would definitely need to shave that before Mark saw it. I immediately snapped at the thought. Shaving myself before "my mate" saw my hairy crotch sounded like some twisted sort of modesty and devotion. I pulled up my shirt to look at my breasts. The nipples were puffy, large and bright pink, which I found extremely sensual. My face was beautiful but my breasts seemed to have more virility, one of the virtues. I would have to convince Mark that I wasn't a threat, make sure he doesn't realize the power he has over me, and all the while learn everything I could about ancient rituals and strange magic. I would need to play this safe if I wanted a chance to get my life back. Then again, I was young now. I could drink again and my back problems were non- existent. Maybe I just wanted my manhood back. I could keep the youth. I covered myself and flushed the toilet to disguise why I'd been in there so long staring at myself. Upon exiting, Mark was gawking at me. "So... what's it like, Professor? Using the bathroom as a girl?" "That's private," is what came out, but I think I wanted to say, "go to Hell." I couldn't tell which virtue was holding that back. Maybe most of them. I wanted to know the last two. "Is it okay if I go back to the ritual room and look around?" "Yes, we can try to change you back, I swear I think we can," he spoke quickly and nervously. I smiled and said, "I'm just curious." This was the truth but I couldn't trust how I expressed myself around him. I wasn't sure how far the virtue of obedience went. Would it pre- empt non-obedient thought? Maybe there was a way to test it. I tried thinking of ways to kill him. I could grab a knife out of the drawer and cut his throat in his sleep. There, apparently I could still think of it. A tear rolled down my cheek and I felt my bottom lip quivering but Mark had already turned and started upstairs where the ritual room was so he couldn't see. That was how devoted I was to him, that I could conceive of murder but found even the thought of it to be emotionally damaging. Powerful. I thought of it again but with the goal of saving all of mankind from the terror of dark magic wielded by Mark. More tears and a lightheaded feeling of sadness. I wiped my eyes and tried to think of something to reverse these feeling before Mark got suspicious. The first pleasant thought to come to my head was Mark embracing me, kissing me, putting his warm hands all over me. I hugged myself and felt my soft chest against my thin arms. In many ways I was exactly what Mark ordered, it's just that my memories were getting in the way. If he found out how close he was, could he order me to forget who I once was? ~ "I should probably clean all of this up. It will start to smell soon." I looked around at the cat and the blood. The restraints were still scattered around on the plastic sheet with the jagged and inscribed rocks. I picked one up. It had a strange looking symbol on it with a few wiggly lines. "That's the one for sensitivity. To be fair, some of the virtues didn't make sense to me. I suppose they are from a time that I find mostly incomprehensible." There was a hesitation in Mark's voice and I realized that we were standing "at the scene of the crime," so to speak. It makes sense for the criminal to be nervous. Sensitivity, though. That was the seventh. "What were they again? Beauty, something..." "Beauty & virility; devotion & obedience; empathy & sensitivity, consideration & modesty." Consideration was the 8th. "I suppose I would think of being considerate as a virtue. It's hard to imagine how all of these were appropriate for their time and place." "Yeah, I gave it a lot of thought. You see, from what we can tell about this culture they were mostly subsistence farmers and hunters, so..." As Mark talked about some of the details of the society where he had gotten part of the ritual from, I thought about the eight virtues and why they were paired together. It seemed to fall into a typical patriarchal female subjugation pattern. Women had certain gender roles in that kind of society, that of mothers, whores, saints and / or property, loving and supporting the decision-makers and their brood. The virtues seemed to cover these with beauty and virility making her a sexual object, and devotion and obedience making her the husband's property. Empathy and sensitivity were the ideals of a saint and consideration and modesty were what you thought of as motherly. Mark had created in me a slave who would look after him like a mother and care for him like a nun. Then be his whore. He woke me from my reverie with a, "are you okay? You've been staring off for a while." I shook my head in a nod. He paused. "It is remarkable how you're taking this. I can't believe you're not yelling or cursing me out. The Professor I knew could cut you down with a glance but you seem so... easy-going. What is going through your mind?" I cleared my throat and found that I couldn't think of a lie. I could not even conceive of one. I told him the first half-truth that came to mind and said, "youth. It's the youth." I wore a vacant expression as I spoke. That had so far been the only thing that was pleasurable about this, rationally. Nobody wants to get old, I don't care what they say. He had an expression as if a light had been turned on in his head. "Of course! I hadn't even thought of that. You've gotten sixty years younger, probably more. Actually, this instant youth was probably never abused because the people who became younger were viewed has having lesser souls afterwards. They weren't pariahs but it was shameful." He smiled at me. I felt my whole body warm at his smile and walked up to him. I put my hand on his large upper arm and said, "I understand that you were lonely and heartbroken, but you can't take someone else's life no matter how difficult the pain is." His smile faded and my heart sank a bit. I truly felt the loneliness that Mark must have had after his wife left him. I would say almost anything to comfort this man, but I also knew what else needed to be said. "We need to find a way to change me back to what I am, a man. However, I won't mind if I can keep the youth, Mark." He chuckled nervously and nodded in agreement. "It seems like there's at least one thing going for us in that all you had to do was chant a few words that weren't even specific and the spell did the hard work for you. It's not like some trickster wish granting situation, where the magic is looking to misinterpret you." I had been touching him too long now but I don't think he noticed. "Yeah, you're right. I thought it all seemed a little too good to be true. I didn't mean... forgive me." His earnestness was endearing. I had to pry my hand off of him to not get closer. I suppose it was virility making me long for him to pull me close and kiss me. Or worse. ~ For the rest of the day, Mark and I compiled every piece of information he had concerning the various rituals. We looked at a thousand possible ways to change me back, change me into a guy, an animal, everything. Almost every one of them required a human sacrifice which we decided immediately would be off the table. The few that were left required animal sacrifices and when I thought of them I think my sensitivity virtue made me almost overcome with sadness for the animal we would have to kill. I couldn't tell Mark this, though, so I played it off and said I was sick of the sight of blood, which was also true. We said our goodnights and went to our respective bedrooms. His was upstairs and down the hall a bit from me. He had a full bathroom in his while mine only had a shower, but that was fine. I fished around inside Heather's suitcase and found a gray-striped nightshirt to sleep in, which my large breasts made look like a wearing a tent. As I crawled under the covers and relaxed in this beach house, now in a reality foreign to my own experiences, I looked back on my life. When my wife left me, I had felt almost nothing. Whatever love we had for each other died a long time ago and she was as happy to be cut loose from me as I was from her. The alimony that I paid her every month was substantial, but I lived simply and didn't mind. I just didn't care about anything. My wife never wanted any children, so I never knew what it was like to be a parent. This had been my one regret in life, but it was too late now to change that. I put my hand on my stomach and thought about the female body I inhabited. Women had a wider pelvis than men because the space between the bones had to be big enough for a baby's head to fit through. I wondered if Heather had wanted children. We didn't find any birth control methods in her things. It was a dangerous oversight on her part not to bring anything on a trip like this with Mark. Then again, maybe she wanted him to knock her up. Suddenly I found myself breathing heavy at the thought of Mark filling my body with his seed and getting me pregnant. Here I was a nearly 80 year old man in the body of a young girl getting hot and bothered over the idea of sex with a monster. He was a monster. I had to keep remembering that, despite how attractive I found him. My mind immediately drifted to thinking about how Mark was just in the other room. I bet he would love it if I took my clothes off and gave myself to him. Or even if I could just sleep beside him and get my body close to his, then press my boobs against him. I found myself pulling my nightshirt up and grabbing a pillow then pressing it to my chest. I pretended I was wrapping my body around Mark. I buried my face in it and closed my eyes. The pillow brushed up against my moist vagina and I felt my bottom tingling. I hated the hair on it, though. Hated it. I got out of bed, grabbed a razor and shaving gel out of Heather's things, and took my nightshirt off. It only took me a few minutes to shave everything below my waistline and once finished, I breathed a sigh of relief. I felt so clean now looking at the wide gap between my legs and how pronounced my full pink pussy lips were. Clean and ready for Mark to touch me or lick me down there. I was lost in the thought of it. The magic had made me his, in body and mind. I was his possession to take, if he wanted. He had to. I looked at my body from every angle I could and thought that any heterosexual man would kill for a beauty like this by his side. I got back in bed and stopped fighting the fantasies and imagined Mark taking me, tearing off my clothes, licking and penetrating me. I found spots inside my vagina and around my lips that were especially sensitive and kept rubbing them until my whole body shivered. My clitoris was easy to find and every time I massaged it my brain exploded in ecstasy. My huge soft breasts and nipples craved massaging and every time I squeezed them hard I gasped. I kept giving myself orgasms until I was a sweaty mess and in a thick mental fog of pleasure. This was a whole different world from jerking off; the difference between dipping your toe into a pool and diving in. I got up again to towel off and dry the bed. As I fell asleep I sighed a few times thinking of how powerful this magic was to change not only my body but my mind so drastically. I didn't have much of a strategy to get away from it, and whatever I did have could be torn apart with almost any misstep. If I had learned something in all my years on this earth it was that sometimes you cannot always fight fate. Spent and lonely, I fell asleep despite thinking I should be too nervous and confused to relax. ~ That night I dreamt that Mark and I were swimming together in the ocean or in the pool on the deck beside the house. The scenario kept changing, but all we did was flirt and play in the water. He kept trying to pull my bikini bottom to the side and have sex with me, but I kept pushing him away and saying, "not in the dirty water" but the water didn't seem that dirty, instead it was clear. I woke up right before sunrise with a feeling not unlike a hangover thinking of the dream about the cute couple. However, all the unexpected emotions from the night before seemed distant and strange. I buried my face in my pillow and thought about the women I had ever been with (two) and I wondered if they had all had feelings about me this way. From my perspective they had all seemed relatively cold. Maybe my memories were playing tricks on me. I wasn't sure. I needed a shower. As an old boring man, my normal morning routine was fairly simple: shower, shave, brush my teeth, and comb my hair on special occasions. My ex-wife Jane called this "sloppy." I felt different this morning. I suppose you could say I felt like a "young woman," but I'm not sure. Maybe "young woman in love," is more accurate? Then again, maybe these feelings were inspired by some virtue. I didn't exactly dote on myself, but I took great care in getting ready for the day. Hygiene, cleanliness, plucking or shaving what needed to be plucked or shaved, a little makeup, face and body cream, shampoo and conditioner with expert drying. It wasn't rocket science getting all of this right, but there was a noticeable familiarity at some points that I suspected must be muscle memory or the beauty virtue guiding me. I found myself pleased with the results. I glowed at the feminine reflection in the mirror, with part of me more happy with the healthy skin and body and another mysterious new feeling of pride in the alluring package I would present to Mark. I made my way to Heather's things and decided it would be a lacy blue tank top and white shorts day, but this time with underwear. The only options were small so I put on some white panties that practically disappeared between my butt cheeks. Thong style, I suppose. There was a white bra to match and it felt nice to have my breasts under control, which I now saw were 32 DDs. I was then overwhelmed by hunger and realized I hadn't eaten hardly a thing yesterday. I pulled my clothes on and crept out of the bedroom. Mark's door was still shut, so I assumed he was sleeping in. It was still pretty early. Again I thought about what he did to me and how furious I should be with him, but all I could feel was loneliness due to the locked door. These confused feelings, both wanting to hate him and being "his," were driving me nuts. I had always prided myself on being in control of my feelings and this dark magic had robbed me of that. I wandered into the kitchen area and started searching the cupboards for something to eat. There wasn't much but there was some bacon and pancake mix. I started getting to work on both and ground some coffee. I knew Mark liked coffee. He was always complaining about the cheap stuff in the department's break room. I thought about how much he would appreciate the breakfast I made him and it put a smile on my face. I rolled my eyes. The consideration virtue. Also, I hated coffee. I always told my students, "tea was for civilized people and coffee was for everyone else." I heard Mark's bedroom door open. My heart started beating fast. I was a young woman in love making breakfast for the adjunct professor she was on vacation with. This kind of nervousness wasn't completely unknown to me. When I was a very young man, first starting out in my alma mater, there was a friend's sister, Margaret Castle, I was always trying to impress. She was all I thought about and I always said the silliest things when she was around. I never had a chance with her. I had practically given up on ever properly communicating with women when I met my wife. She initiated everything, which I was fine with. Less opportunity for rejection. These were simpler times. I put my energy into my studies and was in line for a professorship before I knew it. She was twelve years my junior and still in love with her high school sweetheart the whole marriage as well, but I didn't notice the latter until she threw it in my face on her way out the door. If it had been Margaret Castle, the lack of real glue holding us together wouldn't have gotten past me. "Good... Morning?" Mark came into the kitchen area with a puzzled expression. I could tell he was freshly showered but he hadn't shaved and there was some dark stubble on his chin. He was wearing a fitted black V-neck T-shirt and khaki cargo shorts. His calves looked thick and strong. I found him intensely sexy. I had to catch my breath. "Good morning. There's coffee. I've got a plate of pancakes and bacon coming in one second." I flashed him a bright smile. "Thanks." He walked near me to get some coffee and out of the corner of my eye I caught him looking down the front of my tank top. I didn't turn away and instead let him get as good a look as he wanted before he made his way back to sit at the bar. I made two plates, one with a single slice of bacon and a pancake, the other with lots of bacon and three pancakes. I sat the loaded plate down in front of him and the smaller one I put down where I would sit, right beside him. "So, did you... sleep okay?" Mark seemed nervous but seemed to enjoy his bacon. I nodded and considered how to reply other than telling him that I stayed up all night fantasizing about him. "Yes. I used to have terribly disturbed sleep with back and joint pains, but that's all gone now." I grinned a bit and took a bite of a pancake. "That makes sense." He looked down my shirt again. "Are you... wearing a bra?" I felt my cheeks turning red. "Yes. It's better, you know..." He nodded but took a closer look at me. "Your hair looks nice, too. You can't have just woken up like that." I smiled again and said, "I did mess with it a little. Is that weird? I'm not used to long hair." I didn't want to tell him about the beauty virtue and because I internally wasn't sure that that was the reason why I did it, I felt like I could get out of specifically mentioning it. It made me feel queasy playing tricks on myself that way, though. He raised an eyebrow and then shook his head. "Just wasn't expecting that." I was feeling very conscious of his proximity to me. It was almost as if I could feel the warmth of his body from a couple of feet away. I could smell him from here as well. I think he was wearing deodorant. It was utterly bizarre that such a boring and normal thing could feel so erotic to me. "Is there more syrup? Oh, I see it." he said, and made a motion to get up. The bottle of syrup was in front of me on the opposite side of the bar. "I'll grab it, one sec." I lifted myself off the stool and leaned over the counter to pick up the bottle, but I made sure to take the opportunity to arch my back and let Mark get a really nice view of my butt in my white short shorts. I bet if he was observant he could make out the tiny line of my thong underwear as well. He quickly jerked his head when I turned around to hand him the bottle, so I knew I had teased him a bit but didn't let on that I'd caught him. As we finished our breakfast I thought about virility as a virtue. What did it really mean? I suppose in our culture teasing and flirting was a part of our mating ritual. I wanted him to think of me as a sexual being, but I wanted to make it a game. Did he notice or didn't he? That was fun. Had any woman ever played such a game with me? I couldn't think of any, not really. My wife was never much for flirting. She was... serious. Then again, this was only erotic because I found Mark so attractive now. If he wasn't, it would be creepy not enjoyable. During our more argumentative periods, my wife would yell about how ugly I was, which was definitely not flirting on her part. I suppose even my wife just never saw me as someone worth flirting with. ~ After breakfast, Mark and I agreed that we should try some of the ideas for reversing the ritual magic. I mostly just sat on the plastic sheet Indian style and let him chant, drip what was left of the cat's blood around in different symbols. All it did was frustrate him. The best part about it for me was that Mark kept sneaking glances at my body, but otherwise I could tell it wasn't going anywhere. However, I had a lot on my mind, especially about the ramifications of the virtues and how this was a completely different reality, but I also spent a lot of time looking back on my life from a new perspective. "Mark, can I ask you something about the ritual?" "Sure," he said as he was pointlessly rearranging virtue stones. "What did you mean about needing someone who was 'unloved'?" He looked at me with a rather intense expression and said, "Well, Professor, I clearly remembered all the conversations we had about our marriages. Our families. I could have been wrong, but yours seemed completely absent of love. Passionate, real, love. I had felt that for my ex-wife intensely but when I would ask you questions about it you always answered in a way that made me think, 'no, no he doesn't understand.'" I looked at my feet. I realized now that I had been lying to myself for years about my own feelings. "You may be right. I think that I didn't really know what love was. I thought it was something like friendship, plus commitment... but it's not." "No, I can be friends with anyone. Love makes you think about someone constantly and want to be with them. It makes you want to be theirs. It possesses you." "That..." "That's why I did what I did. I..." he trailed off. "You had that taken away from you and you would do anything to get it back." There was a silence in the room. I thought about the new feelings that I had been experiencing since the ritual, this 'young woman in love' intensity. I realized that I had been sitting here hoping that the reversal wouldn't work. I didn't want it taken away from me, either. I wanted to embrace it and feel true love. It was as if a happiness that I hadn't even understood could exist was right within my grasp. I opened my mouth to confess this but stopped myself: I was still too scared of Mark having so much control over me. I held my stomach and groaned. Mark frowned and looked worried, probably assuming that I was feeling sick to my stomach over my lost life and the dark magic he'd forced onto me. In reality, conflicting feelings raging within my body and mind were tearing me apart. ~ It was well after lunch until we decided to take a break from attempting rituals. I was the one who said something about stopping first. I think Mark would have gone all day trying to fix me. Every time he completed a new ritual, he would look at me expectantly, hoping for a physical change I suppose. Instead, I thought of killing him to see if the virtues still had their hold on me. They were still there when we stopped and I was worn out from the emotional turmoil. I ate some cucumber slices for lunch but Mark lamented at the lack of "real food," so he said he'd go to the grocery store. He asked if I needed anything or wanted to come along and I said I'd stay here, but I requested that he pick up some shrimp, a lemon, some garlic and white wine. I wanted to make shrimp scampi for dinner and we already had some dried pasta. I remembered from one of the faculty get-togethers that Mark loved shrimp and Italian food. Even his leaving the house left me confused. Part me was heartbroken that he was out of my sight and another part was glad that at least I would have some respite from the constant confusion between my memories and identity fighting against these new feelings and magical demands on my being. I decided I needed some air. It was beautiful outside so I grabbed Heather's pocketbook and went out by the pool. I sat on one of the chairs and started looking through her things. There had to be more information than we originally found about the girl. The search was hardly worthwhile, though. She really was almost a blank slate. The most interesting personal information that I could find out about her was that she was an organ donor. I decided to check out her phone and see if she at least had some internet browsing history. Instead, I found a goldmine of emails between her and Mark that went all the way back to the beginning of last semester. The emails started out overly formal. "Professor Cashew, I greatly appreciate your review of my first assignment..." etc. So she was in one of his classes last semester. It seemed like for every assignment she sent a special thanks. I sighed. This kind of thing some students did always annoyed me. It reeked of "trying too hard." I suppose given her orphan background, which I still knew nothing about, she might be trying too hard to impress the professor. About halfway through the semester she sent an email to Mark detailing her life story and further christening her innocent Miss Blank Slate. She had never known her parents. Each of her three foster families had been one of those overly religious ones that took in too many kids to really pay individual attention to a single child, so she felt invisible for most of her life. In high school she started attracting the attention of boys whereas before she had gone through a "fat phase," but on her very first date the boy, who she refused to name, had raped her. She went inside a figurative shell afterwards until getting a needs based scholarship to CNU and leaving her old life behind her. She expressed a fondness for Mark and said she would like to get to know him better, if he had the time for her. There was a reply from Mark saying that he had certain limitations on personal relationships with students. Her response was that she just wanted a confidant and friend. That was the end of the email chain. There were a some more after that about her applying to join the CNU cross-country team and a few others concerning a group project she had finished earlier in her second semester. I started looking through her text messages and found where their relationship had picked up after the emails stopped. There were a lot of them, so I scrolled up to the beginning. The first were, "let's meet for coffee" followed by Mark's positive but monosyllabic responses. Around early December she started sending selfies of herself to him while she was out shopping for clothes, ostensibly for his opinion about what she should wear. They also spent time together on Christmas because there were some texts about presents. The day after New Years the texts started getting a little heated. There was one saying, "hope I didn't freak you out last night" from her to Mark. I'm guessing she confessed her feelings at that point. Afterwards, she started sending selfies teasing Mark in various poses, half-dressed and eventually nude. The texts from the last week or so were of the "hated seeing you leave for work" variety, so she seemed to have practically moved in. I wasn't fully expecting to have lost my masculine lust for women but the erotic selfies had no effect on me other than my thinking, "she needs a shower" or that she should have shaved her crotch a long time ago. However, there was a recent one that really caught my attention. In it, Heather was laying on the bed in an oversized plaid men's button-up shirt. I felt myself getting turned on by looking at it and realized that it was the shirt that was doing it. The idea of being naked and wearing just his shirt was making me wet. Maybe I could steal one from Mark's room before it got too late tonight... ~ At the sound of Mark's car pulling into the driveway, I nearly bolted back into the house. I waited until he got close to the front door and opened it for him; my anticipation for his return was borderline ridiculous. "Need any help carrying things in?" "No, I'm fine." I wanted to brush my body against his while he brought the groceries in, but I couldn't without being too obvious. We both starting working together putting groceries away, which gave me a head buzz because working together like this even on something mundane felt intimate. I thought about telling him about all the emails and text messages I had read, but stopped myself. I was enjoying this moment with him. I closed my eyes and pretended for a second that I we were just boyfriend and girlfriend, with no blood magic or decades of memories getting in the way. There were a few tiny mirrors in the kitchen and I kept watching the two of us in them. We looked good together, me with my slim figure and long straight brown hair, him taller and darkly handsome. He seemed like so much more of an imposing presence than he used to be. I caught Mark looking down my tank top again, but this time I let him know I'd seen. He gulped and looked away, then said, "Do you want to try some more rituals after this?" I pretended to think before replying but I had long made my mind up. "No, I think we need a break, we can try again tomorrow. I think I want to relax and de-stress." It was nice to know that even with the obedience virtue, if given an option by my 'master' I could think for myself. Then again, maybe I just knew he wanted to relax as well and was making the choice easier for him. He paused for a second and nodded. "Well I'm going to grab a swim before it gets dark." "In the pool?" "Yeah, I like doing laps. It's my way of unwinding." I nodded and he went upstairs, I assumed to change into some swimming trunks. I looked at myself in one of the kitchen mirrors and thought, "What are you doing? What is the safest route at this point? Keep your head." I thought that the safest thing to do is to avoid interaction with Mark. The less I interacted with him, the less likely it was that he would realize that I was under his spell. I went upstairs to the room I had slept in and locked the door, then sat on the bed with my heart under strain. The man I was in love with was right outside this door and I was staying away from him. I shoved my under a pillow. A few seconds later I heard his door open and then footsteps which paused outside my door and then continued down the stairs. He was going swimming. I thought about my dream last night and remembered how we had flirted in the water in it. "I... can't do that." I said out loud to myself. I wanted to see him though and the thought of us being together like a real couple at the beach made my head swim. Maybe I could tease him a little but play it safe. I opened Heather's suitcase and pulled out a few bikinis she had brought with her. They all looked like the same cut to me. I tried the first one on which was black. The top had a little support but not much. The bottom barely covered a third of my butt, but it was by no means thong-like at least. The idea of wearing something so girly around Mark really made me happy. I grabbed a towel and made my way downstairs and out the door. As I walked outside in the fading sunlight, I noticed Mark was doing laps pretty intensely in the smallish pool. It seemed more like the thing you would do in a wider area of water, but I suppose you worked with what you had. The navy swimsuit he was wearing was pretty tight, and I could make out his butt from a distance. It seemed fairly muscular, which turned me on. I wanted a closer look. As soon as I opened the door he stopped and stood up in the pool, staring. "Oh, hey." Was all he could muster with words, but his roaming eyes and slack-jawed mouth said what words couldn't: he was in awe. I grinned at him. "Just came out to get my feet wet." I put the towel down beside the pool and sat on it, dipping my small feet and ankles into the water. It was cool but not too cold. A refreshing temperature. Mark waded over near to where I was sitting and gawked a bit before speaking. The bikini didn't cover much, so he had quite a view. "Doesn't it feel weird wearing a girl's bathing suit like that?" I rubbed my legs with my hands. "It's fine. I feel a little exposed I guess, but it's okay." His eyes lingered on me. "I guess it's not often someone is shoved into a new gender. It's probably easier just going with what's socially expected?" He sounded unsure. I shrugged and he didn't push any farther. At that moment I saw a couple of people walking towards our deck from the beach. Earlier I had hardly seen anyone on the beach and barely paid attention to them. These were two young guys coming towards us though, which made me feel odd. Before they could get too close I pulled the towel out from under myself and covered my body as best as I could. The two frat-looking guys hesitated when they saw me cover myself but approached anyway. "Hi folks. Sorry to disturb. Have either of you seen a black lab with a white collar running around? Our dog got away..." I looked down at the water and felt embarrassed. These guys were just looking for their dog and I had freaked out and covered my bikini body with a towel. Mark waded towards the other side of the pool and got out. His swimsuit was tight against his butt and his tanned glistening back and shoulders looked large and muscular. I wanted to feel his body against mine. I wanted him to take me in all the ways I had fantasized about. I had to get away. "I'm going inside Mark." I wrapped the towel around my upper body as he turned and nodded with a curious look. I dried my legs off inside. I had only been out there for a few minutes and I didn't really want to take the bikini off, especially since I was out of the sight of those guys, but it was silly to wear it around the house. I went back to my room to change clothes. I wanted to keep feeling girly though, so I picked out a simple white dress and put it on. It had thin straps and had a square neckline that was low-cut enough to show a tiny bit of cleavage. It was fitted around the bust and waist, but flared out at the hips a little bit and the hemline was fringed with lace and fell a few inches above my knees. I could get away without wearing any underwear, too. A little necklace would look perfect with it but I decided that might be overkill. I touched up my makeup and went downstairs right as Mark was coming inside. He gawked at me a bit before I said, "I'll go ahead and start making dinner. It should be ready in about fifteen minutes or so." Then I smiled at him. I knew he was still staring at me as I walked away. ~ Mark wiped his mouth with his napkin and took another sip of wine. "That was amazing. You're a surprisingly good cook." I glowed at the comment. I had done a quick google search on how to make shrimp scampi but otherwise it had come naturally to me. I suppose this was more of the consideration virtue. We were having our meal at a table near the windows facing the ocean. It was incredibly romantic. We had mostly just talked about trips that we had taken with our ex-wives to the beach over dinner. We were on our second bottle of wine and it had gone to my head a bit. I got up from the table and walked to the couch with my glass of wine. I let myself relax in the comfy chair and started talking about some things that I shouldn't have. "I found some emails on Heather's phone earlier today." Mark got up and sat near me. Her looked hot in just jeans and a button- down white shirt. "What did they say?" He was intensely curious. "Well, she was trying hard to impress you as a professor and then... she got attached. She wrote her whole life story out for you," of which I then gave him a rundown. "Then I think your relationship with her started around New Year's." "That makes sense. The semester would have been over by that point, so we would have been in the clear." I nodded then smiled. "You know, she sent a bunch of pictures to you." "Oh, I didn't even think to look. Text messages?" I nodded. He got out his phone and started looking through. I got a little closer to him pretending to be interested in seeing the pictures but I already knew what they were. I just wanted to get closer. Dinner had been torture for me. The second I started drinking wine I had wanted to strip for him. He started looking through the pictures, but saw the most recent ones first. He went through them voraciously and with me only a few inches away, he couldn't hide his excitement from my senses. "You have an amazing body." He looked at me, just a few inches from my face and then turned away. "Mhm. Heather is blessed." I wanted to get closer. Mark looked deep in thought and then said, "Could you go open that other bottle of wine? My glass is a little low." I got up and walked into the kitchen, used a corkscrew to open the third bottle of white wine of the evening and then walked over and poured Mark a full glass, then myself. I put the bottle down and then sat where I had been when I got up. "Obedience." Mark said, and looked at me with a tinge of fear in his eyes. My heart stopped. "The modesty earlier today with the bikini and the towel... and you're beautiful, sensual and virile. You've been sympathizing with me, the monster who did this to you ever since the act. You've been considerate, making dinner... and breakfast. Modest... devoted, surely. The virtues. Professor, you're beholden to the ritual's feminine virtues, aren't you?" I nodded. Mark cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes. He looked a million miles away. "What are we going to do..." I shook my head. I wanted to comfort him but I knew that would only make things worse. He was absorbed in guilt. I stayed quiet. "If you have to be obedient, maybe I can release you from them. You are released from the virtues!" He looked at me intensely. "Did it work?" I thought about killing him again and felt the same as earlier. "No." "Okay, so the virtues as a whole supersede the commands. Can I just leave you alone? Maybe if I move to another city-" Before he could finished I felt tears streaming down my face. I could barely speak through the sobs but managed a, "if you leave me, I think I'll kill myself..." He started to say something then stopped. After a long pause he said, "what do you want me to do?" I wiped my face and looked into his eyes. Part of me wanted to say, "just don't order me around until we figure out how to fix this" but I just couldn't lie about how I felt to him. "The truth is that I'm not sure I want to change. I'm in love with you and it feels amazing. I've never felt this way before, not really. I'm young and in love but... the memories of who I was, they're tearing these new feelings away. At first I thought it was the other way around, that the new feelings were tearing me away from my real self but that's just one way of looking at it." Mark looked down. "Are you saying that you want t-" "Yes, exactly. I want to be yours. I need to be yours with every fiber of my being. I think it's my fate and I'm... I want to accept it." He sat silently. "Make me forget, Mark. Make me forget the cynical old man I once was. Let me embrace a new life and be a better person. I want to be young and in love! To truly live! I'll be happy, I know I will be. If you want me, that is..." He looked at me. "I want you. I want... her. But I don't want to live my life being judged for doing this terrible thing. I'd rather die." "I know what to do, but first promise me that you won't take advantage of my obedience. I want to feel safe." He nodded. "I promise. I owe you at least that much. I won't take advantage." He seemed sincere about this and I trusted him. "Also, from now on never speak of my old life as the Professor. If this works, it will be a clean break. Do you understand?" He nodded again. "Use the obedience virtue to tell me to forget. Make me forget I was ever another person. Tell me to accept being a woman, being yours, being Heather. Just tell me, now before I cha-" He looked into my eyes and commanded me "Forget it all, forget your life before. Accept being a woman, accept being Heather, accept being mine. I want you. I need you." It worked. I felt my mind and body relax and I knew I was free of the nightmarish inner turmoil. I also knew that it didn't work all the way. I still remembered protesting the Vietnam War and voting against Reagan and playing baseball when I was a 12 year old boy over half a century ago but I would never tell Mark that. The virtue of consideration wouldn't allow me to step all over his feelings that way, so I could live with the white lie. It felt so good to let myself go and my feelings of love for him rushed to the surface. "Mark, mmm. This is good wine." I sipped some and then got close to him. I was no longer restraining my affection or need for physical intimacy. "Heather..." He looked me with hesitation. "What do you remember from the last hour?" "Umm, I made you dinner then we were drinking wine and looking at my pictures..." I ran my fingers through his hair like I'd wanted to do since the ritual and it softened his concerned expression. My heart fluttered. It felt overwhelming, being in love. I got close to his lips and kissed him. I felt his stubble scratch my face but it made me feel soft and feminine in contrast, which turned me on. Kissing a guy was so much different from kissing a girl and I felt more like I wanted to be kissed, which Mark was definitely doing. I felt one of his arms pull me close by the small of my back and the other gently caress my head. I pressed my small frame against his and put my hands on his wide shoulders, feeling his hard strong body. I could tell Mark was quickly getting used to thinking of me as "his" and as Heather. It was probably relatively easy for him because I looked and acted like "her." His hand started roaming my backside and quickly discovered my lack of underwear. He lifted my skirt up a little and squeezed my butt. His hand felt enormous and rough. He was only an inch or two away from my pussy lips, which I knew were already wet and engorged. I let one of the straps from my dress fall of my shoulder then Mark finished the job and pulled it down far enough to free a breast, which he started groping. His tongue went into my mouth and I moaned a little. I was so caught up in the moment that it didn't even register when I began rubbing his cock, which was straining against his jeans. He stopped kissing me and put his head down to my exposed boob. I felt tingles running through my body as I watched him sucking on my hard and thick pink nipple. "Mark, that feels good." When he started tracng his long fingers between the folds of my vagina, my whole body shuddered. I had been breathing hard but that turned into involuntary feminine sounding moans. This was even more amazing than I had imagined. I looked down at Mark enjoying my large breast and thought about how strong the feeling of love was. I undid his belt buckle and then unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. He leaned back and I kissed him again as he helped me tug down his jeans and briefs. I didn't flinch or hesitate before stroking him. His member felt long and thick, and the flesh was extremely hot to the touch. He was circumsized and there was a patch of thick black hair around it and it curved towards the left slightly right in my direction. We played with each other for a few seconds and then I started shifting my body around so I could give him a blowjob. The thought of it filled me with excitement and it made my previous love life seem even more like the distant past. I put the head in my mouth and started licking it clean. It was slightly sweaty and the overall musky and manly odor trumpe