The Crossing - Part 19 free porn video

The changes at Castle Rumstahl in the wake of the assassination attempt on Adolf Hitler had brought a new person into my orbit, someone who was going to shake things up, but were they friend or foe? THE CROSSING - part 19 by BobH (c) 2016 - 44 - My mind was reeling. The beautiful blonde standing before me was clearly female. She was also Alec Delon. How was such a thing even possible? "Ah, another woman! How delightful!" she said, taking my arm. "Why don't you show me around, Eva, and we'll leave the boys to their stuffy discussions." I nodded mutely, still in shock, my heart racing. Why was she here? What did she want? Was I in danger of being exposed? "Excellent!" she laughed. "See you later, Ally!" "Have fun, liebchen," replied Albrecht Grost. And with that 'Lexi' swept me out of the family room and over to the stairs I'd descended minutes earlier. "It is you, isn't it, Alec?" I said. "But your face, your body, how...?" "Take me up to your room and I'll explain everything, I promise," she said, patting my hand. I did just that, with her holding my arm and smirking all the way. "Ooh, I do like this!" she said, casting her eyes around my room as we entered, and nodding appreciatively at the wood panelling and my large, four poster bed. "And an en suite bathroom! Wow, you've really landed on your feet, 'Eva', you little minx! I'm impressed. I didn't think you had it in you." Minx? Impressed? What was she talking about? "You really are full of surprises, aren't you? When we were on stage together back in the camp you didn't seem to enjoy playing women, but you've certainly embraced it now. Just look at you! And you're engaged to someone who's rich, handsome, and a Count, no less!" she said, nodding appreciatively at my ring. "I can see why you decided you were better off being his woman than trying to get back to England. About time you finally wised up and accepted that you have to look out for number one in this world, making the best use of what you have in order to do so. As one gold-digger to another, I salute you." So that was it. It was as good a story as any. Given she was with Grost I couldn't be sure where Lexi's loyalties lay or how much I could trust her, so I decided to go along with her assumptions about me. "You got me," I said. "Why return to the war and take a chance on getting killed when you can live in luxury like this?" "Exactly, but how did you end up here? Last time I saw you you'd been paired off with Major Benton. You were behind me and Robert Simpson in the queue to go through the escape tunnel. What happened?" I wasn't about to tell the mistress of the local Gestapo chief that Benton was in the village, or to reveal my own status as a spy to her, so I gave her a modified version of my tale. "For some reason Benton wanted to head east, so we did," I said. "We came across a train, which I managed to board but he didn't. That was the last I saw of him. A little later I was sharing a compartment with a young woman, the real Eva Schumacher, when we were attacked by a madman. As he was assaulting her, a handgun fell out of her handbag. I picked it up, fired a round into the ceiling of the compartment, and he fled. But it was too late for Eva; she was dead." "My God!" said Lexi, eyes wide. "Going through her things I realized the photo on her ID looked as much like me as it did her, so I switched our papers. A few seconds later Helmut's sister Gerda and Captain Wendt, the village policeman, entered the compartment. I was brought to the castle for questioning, which is where I met Helmut. He saw through my disguise and assumed I was someone travelling as a woman because that's what I really wanted to be. I could hardly tell him I was an escaped English PoW, so I went along with this. It turns out his ideal woman is a boy who looks like a girl and, as you pointed out, he's rich, handsome, and a Count. Fate had dropped an opportunity in my lap that was too good to ignore, so I didn't." "It's not just about the money and the easy life though, is it?" "What do you mean?" "Back in Stalag Luft XII, there was a point in that play we did where I remember looking at you and realising you were where you belonged." "On the stage?" "No, in the arms of a man. You may want a wife, but what you *need* is a husband. On some subconscious level I think you know this too, and it's the real reason you accepted the Count's marriage proposal." "How can you say that?" I protested. "Because I have eyes, and I know how the world works. In the military, with a clearly defined role, you've been protected. Out in the world, looking like you do and being as small and weak as you are, you wouldn't stand a chance on your own. You need a protector, someone strong to look out for you and defend you. Someone like your Count. If you think this is just a masquerade, something you're only doing to be on easy street, then you're deluding yourself. This is you as you were meant to be, honey." The same thought had crossed my mind more than once over the past year, but to have someone state it so bluntly made me very uncomfortable. "Enough about me," I said, hastily changing the subject, "what about you? You and Robert Simpson escaped together. What happened to him?" "Ah yes, dear, sweet, Robert," she sighed. "Like you and Major Benton we got separated. I do hope he made it back to England and to his wife, even though my kisses were sweeter to him than hers can ever be. He'd be less interested in me as I am now, sadly." "So he was a homosexual, then? I suspected as much. But if so, why marry a woman?" "Respectability. In order to follow the dictates of their hearts some people are prepared to risk becoming social outcasts, falling foul of the law, and having their families disown them. Robert is one of the majority who aren't." "And this?" I said, gesturing at her, "How did this happen?" "Do you like it?" she asked, smirking again and slowly turning so I could drink in her spectacular body from every angle. "You...you look amazing," I said, feeling myself blush. "Yes, I do, don't I? And it's all thanks to Dr Frankenheim." "'Dr Frankenstein'?" I said, mishearing her. "No, no," she said, laughing, "Dr Franken*heim*. Although, I suppose the two are not that dissimilar. Robert and I got separated when we had to flee in different directions to avoid a German patrol searching for escapees. It was a day or so later when I came across the hospital. Not having eaten since we left the camp I was hungry, so I decided to go inside and see what I could find. Unfortunately, I was caught by a guard and taken before the head of the hospital, Dr Frankenheim. Unlike the guard, he recognised I was a man, and as such he had a use for me. It turned out that while the hospital was an ordinary medical establishment above ground, below it lay a secret medical research facility where all manner of experiments were being carried out. Like your Count did with you, Dr Frankenheim assumed I was travelling as a woman because that's what I really wanted to be. In my case there was a lot of truth in that assumption, which meant I was exactly what he was looking for. Seeing me now, you can guess why." "So who was this man?" I asked, intrigued. "That's an interesting story. In the early 1930s, Otto Frankenheim was a medical student studying in Dresden under Dr Kurt Warnekros. Does the name 'Lili Elbe' mean anything to you? It was in all the newspapers at one time." "It sounds vaguely familiar, why?" "Lili Elbe was a Danish woman who began life as a man named Einar Wegener. In 1931, Warnekros performed the operations that turned Einarr into Lili. Sadly, she died three months after the final one. Possibly she might have survived had she been treated at Magnus Hirschfeld's Institute for Sexual Science since Hirshfeld's patients usually survived his sexual realignment procedure. The Nazis destroyed Hirshfeld's Insitute in 1933, regarding it as a symbol of the sort of depravity they associated with the Weimar Republic and wanted to stamp out. Also, Hirshfeld was both Jewish and homosexual. Not so Warnekros, who joined the Nazi party and is still treating patients so far as I'm aware, though he wouldn't be performing sexual realignment surgeries. Those are now banned. Officially, at least. Otto Frankenheim assisted on several of Lili Elbe's procedures and was fascinated by what Dr Warnekros had attempted. He was also a genius. In the years that followed, in his own clinic, he devoted much of his energies to the problems that had to be overcome to successfully achieve such a transformation, carrying out many surgical and other medical experiments until he had perfected the process." "And the Nazis allowed this?" "They actively encouraged it." "But why when they destroyed the Hirshfeld Insitute?" "I'm coming to that. Bear in mind that what the Nazis do in public doesn't always reflect what they do in secret. They may have banned 'degenerate' art for instance, but rather than destroy works they say should never have been created they've been selling them on the international market." I nodded, thinking of Helmut's rocket group being publically shut down and the research then continuing in secret. "So, after giving me a tour of his basement establishment, Dr Frankenheim told me that except for the subject not being able to conceive, he had finally perfected all the techniques for his sex-transformation process. He had been looking for the ideal candidate for the first, ah, 'makeover' and that candidate was me. I'm not a fool. I'd seen enough to understand that few of those in that medical facility had volunteered for the experimental procedures they'd undergone. I knew I was getting that makeover whether I volunteered for it or not, but they were more likely to give me freedom of movement as a willing candidate. So I not only said yes, I gave every appearance of being overjoyed at what I was being offered. The truth of the matter is it's what I wanted anyway, but I only had Dr Frankenheim's assurances he'd actually perfected the process, that I wasn't just one more experimental test subject. I was making a throw of the dice, but for me it was the only game in town." "Judging by the results before me, I'd say it worked out for you." "Big time. As well as the major surgery down below, I was given what Dr Frankenheim called 'facial feminisation surgery'. This was largely bonework and involved giving me a nose job, doing some work on my chin, then cutting back the browline on my skull and using the material removed to enhance my cheekbones. You have to be as much an artist as a surgeon for this, which fortunately he was. Some weeks before the procedure he made a cast of my head, and it was this he worked on as a sculptor would to figure out what was possible and how to achieve the best result. And he did. I'm more beautiful than I believed it possible I ever could be." "You are," I agreed, "very beautiful." She smiled at the compliment. "And it's not just my face. My curves are not the result of surgery but of the female hormones now coursing through my body. Dr Frankenheim was a medical genius in more ways than just being a master surgeon. He discovered how to accelerate certain biological processes, including the rate at which receptors in the body can absorb estrogen, the amount they can absorb, and the extent to which that absorption works its magic. Under normal circumstances it would take three to four times as long to give me the body I have. Would you like to see what it looks like?" "I have a pretty good idea," I said. "Your dress leaves very little to the imagination." "But it does leave some," she replied, slowly unbuttoning her dress. "What...what are you doing?" "I should have thought that was obvious," she said, letting her dress slide down her body to the floor then stepping out of it. She wasn't wearing knickers or a bra, only a garter belt, stockings, and high heels. Ye gods, she was gorgeous! "Like it?" she said, grinning at my stunned expression. "Yes...very much," I croaked, my throat suddenly very dry. Her eyes holding mine, she cradled one of her breasts. "Come here," she said. When I did, she took my right hand and placed it on her breast. "It's the real thing," she said. "You'd never guess I'd ever been anything other than a woman, would you, and...ooh!" "What is it?" I asked, surprised. "It's just that you fondling my breast like that is getting me all worked up." I'd never touched a female breast before. Mesmerised by finding myself doing so at long last, I'd unconsciously started doing more than just touching. "Sorry, I'm so sorry," I said, snatching my hand away, mortified by what I'd done. "I didn't say it was a bad thing," she said, smiling and taking my hand again, "or that I wanted you to stop." She placed it back on her breast, keeping her own hand over it, and gently stroked my cheek with her other hand. "What are you doing, Lexi? What...what's happening here?" I was both excited and panicked by what was unfolding, unsure whether to stay or to flee. "I'd have thought that was obvious," she said, leaning in and kissing me softly on the lips. That kiss put paid to any thought of fleeing. I was 22 years old. I was with a naked woman for the first time in my life. I never stood a chance; I started taking my clothes off. "Whoa, tiger!" she said when I was down to my underwear, holding me at arms length. "I don't understand," I said, confused. "I thought you wanted this." "I do, but there are some things I want you to put on first." She went to my lingerie drawer and selected a few items, took a 'baby doll' nightress from my closet, and my three-row pearl choker and pearl cluster earrings from my jewellery box. "These," she said, laying them on the bed, "I want you to wear these." Now I was even more puzzled. "But why?" I asked. "Because if a beautiful woman wants you to wear something when you make love to her then that's what you wear. Honestly, anyone would think you'd never had sex with a woman before." Which, of course, I hadn't. - 45 - Afterwards, as we lay beside each other on the bed, she enjoying a post- coital cigarette and me studying that lovely face, and the trail of lipstick kisses my attentions had left across her breasts and abdomen. When we had kissed mouth-to-mouth, painted lips had met painted lips, a meeting more 'slippery' than it should have been. The moment of entry, that feeling you get when you slide your penis inside a woman for the very first time, is supposed to be the moment at which a boy becomes a man, but it was undercut for me by being the one who was wearing both the sexy lingerie and the most make-up. Physically, the sex was thrilling, but at the same time I'd felt like a fraud. Was I a man to Lexi, or some sort of pseudo-woman? Even leaving that aside, I was conflicted about what we had just done. Lexi was gorgeous, but she was also Alec Delon. When I'd been consumed by lust that didn't matter. Now that my lust had been sated all I could think about was that I had just had sex with Alec Delon! Except that she wasn't him anymore, not really. He was the raw material that had used to construct someone new, someone better. Or was I just fooling myself, trying to find some way to justify a coupling the very idea of which would once have apalled me? I didn't know. All I was sure of was that I wanted to do it again. My feelings towards Lexi might confuse me, but they were hardly the only thing confusing me about what had just happened. "Why did you want me to dress this way before having sex?" I asked her. "Because I wanted to have sex with the real you." "And you think this is the real me?" I said, incredulously, sweeping my hand down and across my lingerie-clad body. "Oh yes, very much so. Powdered, painted, perfumed and dressed in your female finery like this I'm at last seeing you as you truly are: a girl with a penis." "'A girl with a penis'?" I repeated, shaking my head. "That makes no sense. You're either a man or a woman, and if you have a penis then you're a man." "I know you've led a sheltered life - most people have when it comes to these matters - but I'd have hoped your own experiences since our escape from the camp would have taught you things aren't always that simple." I was about to protest further but instead I paused, remembering Hans Strohmann. I knew Hans was actually a woman, that unlike Lexi who had been physically transformed, he was only dressing in male clothing. Yet it was a man's life he was living and I had accepted him as such, only ever using male pronouns when refering to him. I was doing the same thing he was but from the opposite direction, dressing in female clothing and living the life of a woman. He also didn't want to have his body surgically altered any more than I did, so looked at objectively in what way were we actually different? I was still clinging onto my manhood, hoping to return to my old life when this was all over, but was I just deluding myself? I'd grown to enjoy wearing make up and, yes, female clothing and had reluctantly come to accept that even after returning to my old life I'd probably continue to cross-dress in private, but did the changes run deeper than that? Was I still just a man playing dress-up or was I becoming, to use Lexi's peculiar phrase, 'a girl with a penis'? The latter was a frightening thing to contemplate, because I knew of no place in this world for such a creature. Except with Helmut. "I can see you're thinking it over," said Lexi, nodding approvingly. "I know it's a difficult, even radical concept but hopefully the truth of it will be accepted one day." "You're dreaming," I said, shaking my head. "It's not just the Nazis who find such ideas abhorrent and obscene but our own government, too." "For now, perhaps, but maybe not in the future. Well, as long as the democracies triumph over the dictatorships in this horrible war we're currently engaged in. There's at least the hope of progress in a democracy, but none at all under a dictator." I was shaken by what she had said, by the possibilities she was suggesting. Quite suddenly I was annoyed, too. Dammit all, I was a man in disguise, nothing more. My manhood was there to be reclaimed and reclaim it I would. I mustn't allow Lexi's fanciful ideas to cause me any confusion on that point. She decided to continue with the story she'd been telling me before we'd become sidetracked. "I said I'd explain why the Nazis would allow Dr Frankenheim's research continue after they destroyed the Hirshfeld Institute. What I'm about to tell you is conjecture on my part, but it's the only explanation that makes sense. I got my first inkling as to what was going on when I was taken to have a cast made of my head. In the room were other casts that had been made, casts of the heads of some major figures in the Third Reich." "That's odd," I said, "what would they be needed for?" "In the months I was in that medical facility, much of it spent recovering from various surgeries, I had a lot of time to both improve my German and to ponder that very question. Logically, the only reason for the casts to have been made is for the same reason mine was: facial alteration. I suspect that from the very beginning there were those in the Nazi party fully aware of the criminality of much of what they were doing and the justice that awaited them if Germany were ever to be defeated in war. So they put a contingency plan in place, a means by which they could evade that justice by altering their appearances and then vanishing. As well as facial alteration, they would have wanted to know just how far you could take the physical alteration of a body. Seen in that light, allowing Dr Frankenheim to continue his experiments with sex changing makes perfect sense. Even if none of them wanted to undergo such a process themselves -and some may well have - the information gleaned would still be useful in helping establish where the useful limits of physically alterating a body might lay." "That sounds horribly plausible," I agreed. "Two other things, possibly related. At one point while I was at the facility we were visited for a few weeks by a small, thin, wiry man with a nose like the beak of a predatory bird, and a duelling scar cutting diagonally between his eyes. His name was Wilhelm Tranger and he was both an SS Obersturmbanfuehrer and, apparently, a brilliant neurosurgeon. He was attached to some place called Auschwitz." "'Auschwitz'?" I said. "Sounds Czech." "Polish, I think, though I doubt it's important either way. From what I overheard of their conversations, Tranger was the only other surgeon Dr Frankenheim regarded as his equal. He was visiting the institute in order to learn how Frankenheim had overcome the problem of organ rejection, which can apparently happen when you transplant them." "You mentioned two things. What was the other?" "A name, or rather acronym I saw stamped on several files: ODESSA." "Any idea what it means?" "None, but I can't help feeling it's important." "OK, so you've explained why you're now a woman, but how did you escape and end up with Albrecht Grost of all people?" "I'd been making plans to escape for a long time. One of the more interesting rooms in the facility contained everything needed to produce a full set of identity papers. Whenever this was done, a form with the relevant details on would be sent to a particular address in Munich and the new identity would then be entered in all the appropriate records, thus becoming real and official. You can see how this would tie in with the facial surgery and my theory as to its purpose, of course?" I nodded. "I'd been at the facility long enough and was trusted enough by then that I was pretty much given free run of the place, so I was able to filch a key to that room and, when no one was present, create my own official new identity. I kept it ready for when I needed it." "Why choose 'Lexi Marceau'?" I asked. "I speak French fluently and my given name is Alexei. Which explains my becoming a Frenchwoman named Alexa Marceau. As for 'Lexi', that's what my mother always called me as a child so it's what I ask to be called now. Dr Frankenheim called me his masterpiece, and the woman of his dreams. Because he'd created me he thought he owned me. What he didn't appreciate was that he'd made me, to use an American expression, way out of his league. Only a man who's both rich and handsome cdeserves a woman that looks like me, and that wasn't Otto Frankenheim. He was a genius, but as ugly as sin. He made Joseph Goebbels look like Cary Grant. When he tried to force himself on me I grabbed a scalpel and, well, unless his staff got to him quickly enough after my escape, that was the end of Dr Frankenheim. As with Frankenstein, his creation had turned against him." "Syracuse," I said. "What?" said Lexi. Now it was her turn to be confused. "Back in the days of Ancient Rome it was a city-state and the home of Archimedes, the great genius of the ancient world. The Roman high command knew the value of his genius, so when they laid siege to the city they gave strict instructions he was to be taken alive. Nevertheless, he was killed by a legionary who drove his sword through this old guy he didn't think was showing him the proper respect." "You're comparing me to the legionary?" "The death of Archimedes probably set human progress back by centuries. I'm saying that if you did kill Dr Frankenheim you may have set his field back by decades at least." "Then he shouldn't have tried it on with me," she snapped. "No, he shouldn't have," I agreed, "but still.... So, what did you do next?" "The assault occurred in his office, which was where he kept his files. I took mine containing all the photos of me and the fake papers I'd used when we escaped from Stalag Luft XII. I dumped the lot in the incinerator then talked my way out. Afterwards, since everyone believed me to be French and so would expect me to flee in that direction, I did the opposite and fled eastwards. I eventually found myself in the town where the area Gestapo chief had his headquarters. Casual conversation with various people I encountered revealed he was not only powerful, but came from a wealthy family. He seemed like a good person for me to latch onto, so I contrived an 'accidental' meeting and seduced him. That was three weeks ago." "He's rich and powerful," I said, "but hardly good looking." "No, he's not. But in these uncertain times he's what I need. I'll dump him and trade up when I'm in a better position to do so." So no love lost there then. She really was only interested in looking out for number one after all. I now understood why she assumed I was a fellow gold-digger. Lexi got up from the bed. "We need to make ourselves presentable and rejoin the boys," she said. "We've been gone over an hour. They'll be wondering where we are." She was right, of course, so we did just that. As I was repairing my make-up I debated whether or not I should reveal who Lexi was to Benton. If I did he might try to recruit her as another spy. I couldn't see her going along with that. Alternately, he might decide she was a security risk and either order me to kill her or get me to lure her to some place where he could do the deed. That was something I couldn't, wouldn't do. No, it was best if I didn't tell him. I was pretty sure he wouldn't recognise her as Alec Delon, and hopefully she wouldn't recognise him as Benton either if their paths crossed. He'd shaved his beard off and grown his hair out a little since our days in the camp, plus she wouldn't be expecting to see him in the village and so probably wouldn't recognise him out of context. That was my hope, at any rate. This was all very sensible and logical, but there was another reason for not telling him. I wanted to keep her to myself. I'd enjoyed our session together in the bedroom more than I could say and I wanted, no *needed* to be with her like that again, God help me. When I'd finished fixing my make-up and had brushed my hair, Lexi hooked her arm in mine and we headed out. "We're the girls of Stalag Luft XII and we should stick together," she said. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps we should. If nothing else it was a relief to finally have someone other than Benton to talk to who knew who I really was. Yet I still wasn't sure about Lexi. It had been pathetically easy for her to seduce me, but had it genuinely been the spur-of-the- moment seduction it appeared or was it part of some larger agenda? I was sure I'd find out eventually. One way or another. ************************ To be continued. ************************ Notes: 1. Lili Elbe is of course the subject of the recent movie 'The Danish Girl'. The film was in the news when I was planning this story and considering all the elements I wanted to include. It was the right period, and at the time Germany led the world when it came to gender reassignment. The Nazis put an end to that of course (in fact that famous footage we usually see of them burning books is actually of them incinerating the records of the Hirshfeld Insitute), but what if that hadn't been an end to it? What if the work had continued in secret, and what if there was a medical supergenius in charge of it who put them as far ahead as they were in so many other scientific areas? I knew I wanted Alec Delon to reappear as a woman in this instalment, but that timescale - determined by the actual facts of the war - required an accelerated transformation, so having this supergenius worked for that. Could Frankenheim really have been that far ahead of where we are now? Why not? It's now known that Archimedes was using calculus 1500 years earlier that it was believed to have been first developed, after all. Now and again someone comes along who really is that far ahead of everyone else in their field. 2. This one is a bit later than expected due to my hard drive dying and all the aggravation involved in getting a new one, reloading and reconfiguring all that software, etc. No actual data was lost since I religiously back-up my data on a memory stick after every session - it's idiotic not to. However, in this day and age it's also idiotic not to have an external hard drive that copies your computer's hard drive as then you don't lose all your settings and everything is a whole lot easier to restore. So I now have one of them, too. In future I'll still be copying data to a memory stick after every session, but now I'm also doing an overnight full-disk back up once a week.