Sins of the Father
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Sins Of The Ancestors free porn video
Sins of the Ancestors
I'm never honest when people ask about my mum. It's a question that is
always there when people see us together and, much as it irritates, I
get why. I'm a middling height white guy with a body earned by a
gruelling gym regime, with dirty blond curls, blue eyes and a
mischievous smirk that took hours of practise in the mirror to get
right. My mum, however, has a couple of inches height on me, black hair
and the rich caramel skin of her Indian parents.
Yeah, there's no way we're blood relations, but the truth is I can
barely remember my birth-mum. She died when I was three in a car
accident that also killed her parents, an accident that just left me
with a gnarly scar on my right shoulder and bicep. If I try, I get.
vague memories of a smile, long blond hair and a fuzzy warmth. Sara - I
couldn't pronounce Sarjita right when I was little and the name stuck -
adopted me in the wake of the accident and my earliest memories are of
the two of us bonding in our grief. It's a tedious story on the
retelling, so when people get the courage to ask I scowl, tell them 'I'm
adopted' and change the subject.
I never told her this (and it took me years to fully realise it) but I
think Sara is one of the most amazing women in the world for what she
did. When she adopted me, she didn't just get a scared, angry little boy
but lost her own family. She was the eldest of five and, despite only
being a few years out of university, was a successful market trader at
the time. Her family disowned her for her actions and she was forced to
quit the investment bank that had her fast tracked to success, all to
look after me.
None of that crossed my mind as I sent her call to voicemail and tossed
the phone to my bed. It was the Friday 17th of April, I was turning
twenty-one in two days and there was a massive event planned at one of
the local nightclubs in Leeds that promised to be too good not to have
my celebrations at. It was her sixth attempt of the day and I was pretty
damn peeved at her interrupting my preparations.
I mean, I had already said I'd go see her on my 21st itself (true, I was
likely to be hungover as hell and had persuaded her to drive from her
home in York to me pick me up, but it was time with her) and I'd planned
this for months now. It was my final year at uni, my two housemates were
likewise prepping to be my wingmen for the night. I rolled my eyes as
the vibrations of my phone set the bedcovers twitching and turned to my
wardrobe.
I had plans to get my bedding twitching tonight, and they certainly did
not involve my mum.
*
It was about four hours later that it began. We were in our second club
of the night - talent in the first wasn't up to scratch - and I was
showing my stuff on the dance floor as I looked for my night's
fuckbuddy.
It hit my guts like a fist, powerful and from nowhere. My body jerked to
a halt, earning a 'fuck's sake!' in bellowed into my ear as I stepped on
a foot.
The pain was gone a moment later and I glanced about in a daze of
confusion. I put my hand onto my abs, trying to figure what could
possibly strike so hard and fast when it came back, stronger than
before. Something had its claws on my intestines. It dug them in deeply,
sending lances of pain rippling through me. I opened my mouth to scream
as the claws twisted, wrenching my innards into new positions.
My scream became a barf, which in turn became a scream, this time from
the lass that had been in front of me. I grabbed at my middle as a guy
with Screamy looked from her to me with revulsion. Paralysed by pain, I
could only stare as he pulled his arm back, as his fist flew towards...
*
Hospital. Those beeps, that low murmur, the pain throbbing from my nose,
my vague thoughts took each bit of information and that was the
conclusion it offered.
I felt like shit. There was my nose of course, broken again if my memory
of that cricket accident from school was accurate, and a lingering
discomfort had settled in my middle. That I understood, what I didn't
get was the deep, weary exhaustion I felt in my limbs. My arms and legs
were limp and useless with fatigue as if I'd lasted ten rounds with Ali.
You could threaten me with Blofeld's slowest death-trap and I could only
mewl in protest before it got me.
I cracked open an eye and instantly regretted it. Who the fuck puts such
bright bulbs in a hospital? I'd sue whatever fucker thought up-
"Fuck, Erik, you awake?"
The groan died on my lips as something uncomfortable squeezed into my
chest. I knew that voice. It had been years, and last time I heard it
had been when she screamed at me to fuck off and die. I would know her
anywhere.
It belonged to Jenny. Jenny, the girl I met in infant school, my closest
friend for years. Jenny, the girl grown into a bitch, all black makeup
and hair dye.
I wish I didn't feel so relieved that she was here.
I forced my eye open again, winced against the light and looked around.
I was in a hospital room, bland in beige glory. I looked lower and met
her gaze. Her eyes were full of concern, but all I could think of was
what the-
"-fuck're you doing here?"
Well, that shot down her concern at least. She glowered at me with the
malice only a goth can manage. Her words came out clipped short with
anger. "I was with your mum when she got the call you were here and
unresponsive, fuckwad. We came straight here for you." Jenny pressed her
lips together and shook her head once. "Pull your head out of your arse,
Erik. 'Jita's been worried sick trying to get hold of you but, let me
guess, you had pussy to hunt, huh? Think of someone else's feelings for
once. I'm going to get 'Jita." She was good to her word and stormed out
of my room.
What. A. Bitch.
That was my first thought. I was sick and beaten and she had launched an
attack on me. Want to crush my balls while you're at it? Oh no, dykes
don't touch man parts. Maybe get a bat or something and whack them
instead. In fact...
A wave of heat and nausea roiled through me, leaving my muscles
uncomfortable and punctured my anger. Jenny knew me. Really knew me. She
had held my hand after I was told about the accident, had given all the
comfort a child could to her grieving friend. We had been inseparable
from then, until puberty came and we developed...
I reflexively reached for my anger. I'm not introspective, and focussing
on things like how my friendship with Jenny ended was something I
avoided like the obese chicks at the end of an unsuccessful night's
clubbing. I channel it, using it to drive my work outs, to shrug off
rejections and, well, get through life. Some people depict anger as some
festering pustule but I knew better, I knew that it was a powerful
driving force that I had harnessed.
It was also gone.
I felt a moment's panic. I had been angry as long as I knew, reacting
with it was who I was and for the first time, it was missing. In
desperation, and no doubt because she had just been there, I thought of
Jenny. Of hours spent thinking about her, being close to her, of how I
had first discovered wanking and had thought of her as I stroked myself
to my first ever orgasms.
Desperately, I thought of day at the end of summer before our final year
at school. It was hot and we were meandering our way through the local
woods as we had done countless times before. That day was different. I
had plans that made my palms sweat. Jenny was everything the young,
stupid me thought he had wanted and I began to tell her that and,
ultimately, ask to date.
I could see it again in my memory, how she squirmed, twisted and
interrupted my speech.
"Erik, I'm gay."
I waited for the anger that always accompanied the memory. How the pain
that had crushed my chest became useful, letting me lash out and hide my
intentions. Instead, all I could do was think of Jenny. Of how she had
squirmed with discomfort as I had spoken. How I, her best friend, hadn't
known that she liked chicks.
Jenny liked women. Unbidden, my mind began to follow the chain of
thoughts.
Fuck. Jenny was a lesbian and had no one to support her. She had told
her closest friend and he had flung it at her, screamed homophobic shit
and abandoned her for hurting him. I swallowed, the ache in my throat a
welcome distraction from the realisation. I had no anger left in me.
Just had the realisation that I was a world class prick to a friend that
had needed so much more.
My epiphany was interrupted by the door bursting open. "Erik." Sara's
voice was tight though I couldn't tell if that was from anger, relief or
just plain tiredness. I guess something showed in my expression though,
because her tone softened as she moved to my bed. "Erik, I've spoken
with the doctors. They want to run some tests but you have to trust me,
we need to go home. Now."
I frowned at her, recognising her tone. She would not back down from
this, if I fought her choice we would have a blazing row. She rarely
used it, this was serious. And she didn't want me in a hospital?
"Erik, listen to 'Jita. You gotta discharge yourself and come home."
Shit. Jenny was with her in this? Dread flooded through me as I looked
between the two. My eyes were blurred. That'll be from the punch to my
nose. Honest. Their expressions were mirrors of concern and resolve.
Whatever was going on with me, they clearly knew more than I did. I
coughed as a spasm constricted my chest. "Okay, okay. Get me the forms"
*
I think I surprised them both when I climbed into the back seat of
Sara's Citroen. I'd long ago established that I had permanent shotgun in
my mum's car, but I really didn't want to talk to either of them. Jenny
took the hint with a shrug and climbed into the passenger seat. They
tried to make some small talk with me but after a couple of grunts for
answers, they stopped.
I was too busy trying to catalogue the issues wrong with my body. The
doctor, miffed by my insistence on leaving, had insisted that I use a
wheelchair to get to the car so I had barely walked yet every movement
of my body felt wrong.
It's hard to put into words quite what it felt like. It was almost as if
I'd been spun in a circle, over and over, the swirling chaotic feeling
that filled me. Yet, at the same time I wasn't dizzy. The pain in my
muscles had gone, replaced with the satisfying, weary ache a hard
workout gives. My nose still hurt. That pain had stayed consistent, if
perhaps a little easier and I'd place money on having black eyes by
morning (though normally, I earn the punch by trying to shag a guy's
missus, not by puking on her).
I spent the drive hugging myself as I catalogued these sensations. My
clothes were looser than I remembered but I guess Sara had brought old
clothes from my closet and my exercises had slimmed me more than I
thought. I could feel heat rising out of me through my skin yet I didn't
feel feverish.
Then there were my nipples. These did feel heated to me, as well as an
inch or so around each nub. The tissue there demanded my attention,
almost like I needed to scratch away an itch. I say almost, I tried
scratching and it offered no relief.
It was nearing midday by the time Sara pulled into our drive and my gut
was rumbling out a protest. She smiled at me in the mirror "Some things
never change. Cheese and ham toasty?"
I mumbled a yes and opened the door of the car, making it halfway down
the drive before the next spasm hit me. My body tensed, limbs flung into
some gross parody of the Vitruvian man. Every muscle in me was drawn
taut, every tendon stretched to its limit it seemed. I had exclamations
from both the women behind me in alarm.
The episode ended violently in one powerful, body shaking shudder that
dropped me to the floor and left me dazed. Something was weird though,
the semi-conscious part of me realised as at no point had I actually
been in pain during the attack. I had been overloaded with sensation
with every nerve in me clamouring for attention, the only pain that
struck had been as my head hit the floor.
I don't remember Jenny and Sara, nor the few hours that followed, just a
few flashes. Jenny enjoys telling me I raved nonsensically for some of
the time and occasionally torments me with phrases I reported said like
"The ducks are terrifying revolutionaries" and "Jedi knight in
dungarees". I don't know if she's just having fun with me or not, but I
figure it's a small price to pay for what I'd done to her.
When I more or less came back to myself, I was lying on the sofa and my
view was filled with breasts. They were so close I could have craned my
neck forwards to bury my face in their mass, had I the energy. And they
were pretty big, I'd say a large D cup bordering on a double D. I could
see from the strap that the bra was black and fairly old (there was some
slight fraying). Over it, she was wearing a simple black strappy top but
through it I could see her erect nipples standing proud.
"Jenny."
The twins jerked sharply as she yelped, a splash of water hit my head
and drew back quickly. She looked at me, somehow showing bemusement,
concern and anger simultaneously. Never let it be said that she couldn't
multitask. She was holding a glass of water.
"You know me by my boobs? Pervert."
"No, I... You're so different to Sara..." I trailed off, the water
snagging my attention. Thirst had dried my throat and talking only
exacerbated it. She noticed and held the water away from me.
"Nope. Admit it. You're a tit-loving, small minded, homophobic pervert."
Bitch. I ignored her and reached for the glass. She stepped back. "Admit
it or no water-"
"Jenny." Sara spoke her name as a sigh as she entered the room. "Much as
he might deserve it, you know he needs the drink. Please pass it to
him." She did so, smirking all the while, and I sat up to drink it down
greedily. Water, when you are parched, is the sweetest thing in the
world and I groaned softly as I felt it cool my fever-hot body. That and
the breeze over my torso felt-
Breeze?
I looked down and noted three things. First was that they had stripped
me. They had stripped me and covered me with a blanket that had fallen
to my waist when I sat up. Second, was that my long-maintained, gym-
sculpted body was gone. My pecs were soft and loose, my biceps faded and
abs... oh man, I spent ages on my abs. I jumped to my feet, shouting
wordlessly in surprise. Not only was I completely naked but apparently
the heat I felt was not just a fever. My cock stood at full mast: red,
swollen and demanding attention.
"See. Pervert's getting off on this." Anger flashed through me at
Jenny's hypocrisy. It was not a cold day and I had figured years ago
that her nipples jutted out when she had the horn. My hand shot out,
fingers pinching closed on her left nub, clamping hard.
"Fucker!" She yelled as I cried "Bitch!", both of us shifting our feet
and getting ready to smack at each other. You might think little of me
for hitting a woman, but playing rough had been part of the dynamic of
our friendship for years. Part of me found it quite reassuring.
"ENOUGH." We both knew that tone in Sara's voice and instantly backed
down. "Erik. Sit down and cover yourself. Jenny, sit over there and shut
up. This is not the time, Erik needs to know."
I shivered at her words, triggering another shuddering arch of my back.
Heat and arousal rose in me and I ached for the relief of a wank.
What the hell was wrong with me? I really wanted to jerk my cock now, in
front of my mum and m... and Jenny? I looked at Sara. "W-what do I need
to know?" My voice cracked with nerves and Sara's look of sympathy
filled me with fear.
She didn't answer at first, instead moving to the sofa, smoothing her
skirt and sitting down next to me.
"The truth about who you are, about your mum, your dad and even about
me, a little." I stared at her. She smoothed her skirt, avoiding my eyes
and reaching for an old photo album. She began to flick through as she
spoke.
"I tried to find out all I could for you, Erik. I've tried for years but
the only two people who knew anything died in the accident. I..."
She swallowed, staring at a photo in front of her. It was her years ago,
before I had been bored. Her arm was linked with a toned, blond hunk and
both had the sickening grins of lovers on their faces. "Erik, the man in
this picture is your mother."
I was exhausted, it had been a gruelling eighteen hours. I had been
beaten and puked, I was so filled with horniness that my cock still
tented the blanket despite my mum being right there (no, no incest
fantasies held here). My body burned and shook with the sheer weight of
all it was enduring. That's why the best thought I could vocalise was:
"You. Fucking. What?"
"There's this thing, a curse or something, it runs through your family.
Always has your gran said. Your mum and I... your dad and I..."
"Woah woah, what the fuck. You know who my dad is?" I had never been
told.
"Yes. No... it's complicated, Erik. I... I-" You have to understand that
Sarjita does not get flustered. She has the calm and poise of Cleopatra
no matter the situation. Seeing her so twisted was scaring the hell out
of me and I guess Jenny too, as she jumped in.
"Your swapping genders, boyo. Losing the dick and growing a clit. Your
out-y is becoming an in-y. Happened to your mum, your gran, your great
gran... you get the picture. You're going to be a woman, tits and all.
Oh! And want to know the best bit?"
"Jenny. Enough."
I burst into laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of the statement and
looked between the two, searching for the humour. Jenny grinned, a
triumphant smile of vindication rather than jest. Sara looked at me,
worry creasing her brow. Neither was joking. My laugh faltered to a
halt.
"No fucking way."
"It's true." Sara was calm again, now that the news was broken. I stared
in her eyes, searching for some hope that this was a bad joke, that the
sheer wrongness I felt in my body had another explanation. I could see
the truth reflected in her pupils, my reflection was different. A shade
of the man I had been. Softened contours, my blue eyes somehow seemed
larger. I looked like a young woman.
Something in me broke then and I crumpled into tears, falling into her
embrace. I cried openly, my shoulders shaking and chest heaving with
each ragged breath. Sara held me, one hand rubbing my back soothingly.
It felt good. Too good. It didn't matter that she was twice my age,
didn't matter that she was mother to me in all ways bar blood.
What mattered was that she was close. I could feel the warmth of her
hand exciting rather than soothing my skin as she stroked. I could feel
the heat of her body, so close to mine. My tears quietened. My breathing
smoothed in deep, heavy lungful's of her scent. My cock, harder than
ever, pressed against her thigh. I shifted my hips, moving it slightly
to rub against her skirt. Fuck it was good, I moved again and...
...found myself held at arm's length from Sara. "No Erik. Your body is
building for the final change into womanhood. You're flooded with
hormones right now and it's fogging your thoughts, I know that's not
what you actually want. Erik, sweetie, I'm going to leave and you need
to masturbate. Your climax will sort things out. Okay?"
Okay? No it wasn't okay. What the did she mean, sort things out? I was
changing sex! Everything I had, everything I was would be gone and some
damn bitch would live out my life instead. "NO!" I exploded. "No it's
not okay, it's so fu-"
Sara cupped my cheek with her hand. A waft of her perfume reached me,
rich and feminine. Arousal spiked through me, my groan was low and
needy. "Erik, you're burning up. You have to do this, your body can't
hold back the spell forever. It will be okay. I helped your mum through
this, I will help you through this. Now, act like I'm going to the shops
and knock one out." For all the concern she held, a faint smile eased
her eyes at the shared memory.
"Good luck. I'll see you when it's done." She took my right wrist in
hand and used it to place my hand directly onto my covered dick. I
groaned, tilted my head back and let my eyes flutter closed. Even
through the blanket, the feeling of pressure my hand gave was a relief.
A scratchy relief. I could fix that.
I registered the shift of cushions as my mum rose from the sofa.
Registered, but did not care, nor about the sounds of her steps or the
closing of the door as she left. My concern was getting the blanket off
me - I had sat on part, a quick lift of my hips let me yank it clear -
and to grab hold of my cock for the final time.
I groaned heavily from the first pump. God it felt good. Usually I would
start slow, with long, languid strokes that slowly built momentum but,
from the moment my palm wrapped around the shaft, my arm worked
furiously, jerking my meat as if we were in a race and coming was the
goal.
I felt the heat filling my body coalesce around my nipples. I cracked an
eye, left hand tangled in the blanket at my side, and saw the curse
change them. The nipples hardened, already longer than I had ever seen
them, standing proud and eager for attention. I sucked in a breath, hand
pumping away and staring as the areolas morphed next, doubling in size.
They shifted slightly, puckering to push my nipples out yet further, the
flesh on my chest loose where yesterday my pecks had been solid. They
ached for attention.
I hesitated for just a moment before yanking my hand clear and grabbing
at my incipient breast. The rush of lust my body responded with made me
gasp. Always before my nipples had been basically nothing, just an
adornment to my chest that saw occasional, unwanted attention. Now they
were nearing the sensitivity of my cock and, squeezing with my thumb and
finger, shot lances of fire through me, arching my body. "Hngh!"
The changes began to cascade then. As I squeezed at my nipple, my palm
filled with the swelling flesh of my breast. My head rolled against the
back of the sofa as the weight of my new formed tits settled on my
chest. In less than two minutes, I had gone from pinching the nipple to
a full groping of the fleshy mass of each tit, hand darting between
them. It was electrifying, the thrills shocking my breath into an
unsteady rhythm.
The pleasure rocking through served as a distraction from the other
changes being wrought by the curse. My focus was on tweaking my tits and
jerking my cock, but part of me still noted how my waist was thinning,
how the pitch of my moans lightened as my Adam's apple smoothed away and
the swirling sensation deep in my guts as my internal organs shifted.
I couldn't ignore the next change however. Still beating at my erection
I suddenly felt my balls draw tightly against my abdomen. "No!
Nonononono-" My pleading cut off in a yelp of surprise as they suddenly
shot into me. For a moment, I was utterly still before my left hand
abandoned pleasuring my new tits and grabbed at my scrotum. It was
empty, just slack skin that my probing fingers pressed flat to me. They
probed, but my balls were gone. I felt an ache each side of my abdomen,
was that them moving? Oh fuck, it was! They were rising and changing
shape. Filling with eggs. Becoming fucking ovaries. I shoved that
thought aside. Nope, was not dealing with that right now. Instead, I
fell back into the physical sensations running through me. Through my
left hand I could feel the changes to my scrotum. It tightened and
plumped, with shifting underneath as my parts rearranged themselves.
Through my right hand, I could feel...
I swallowed.
I.... I couldn't hide from The Big Change any more. Since I had begun to
stroke it, my cock had been shrinking. I started with my hand on the
shaft, pumping up and down. I had never been massively endowed, but
still I ignored it as my hand had fully enclosing it, rising off with
each pump as my breasts had formed. I had barely thought about it when
it shrank with the disappearance of my testicles. I had simply reversed
my hand, putting thumb and forefinger to the base and kept on stroking.
But now I was down to barely two inches and pencil thin, the tips of my
thumb and two fingers jerking the tip. It was so intense, the nerves
from my glans concentrating themselves into a single, glorious spot. I
had lost so much of it that each fraction of shrinking struck me like a
physical blow. Yet, I couldn't stop. I was addicted to the tension that
stroking it built. I was coiled and building towards the biggest climax
of my live.
My thumb slipped off, my cock... my almost-clit was too small to receive
that much attention now. I whimpered. I... well, there was no way this
could be described as jerking now. My two fingers rubbed furious circles
with the proto-organ, desperate to break into a climax that stayed just
tantalisingly out of reach no matter how fast my fingers blurred.
Through my other hand I felt the faint seam form down my scrotum,
deepening quickly as my vestigial cock pulled into its new home. My
foreskin split at the lower side, sliding slightly to form a hooded
fold. Simultaneously, my labia began to open. It began at my clitoris,
the plump flesh peeling open under the pressure of my left hand. There
was no denying the actions of my right hand.
I was frigging myself.
And still, I was not coming. My wrist ached from the frantic strumming,
my fingers began to cramp from the perpetual motion. I was ready to cry,
to scream, to beg. Anything to reach that peak and release the steel
bands of tension that sat in my straining body. It was then that my
labia were fully developed and open. That they revealed my wet, virgin
hole.
Like a bolt of lightning, I knew this was it.
I reacted instantly at the thought, ramming two fingers into my pussy
for the first time. The reaction of my body was instantaneous and
violent. My hips thrust forward as my head drove back, forcing my body
from the sofa. My clit exploded in a massive shock of orgasm which
crashed over my body.
I screamed in triumphant pain as it occurred. Every inch of me was alive
with the great rushes of pleasure flooding out from my cunt and driving
what little capacity of thought from me. My clit was a beacon of wonder,
throbbing with each pulse of blood that drew out the shuddering
pleasure. My pussy, new formed and strong, clamped hard around my
fingers, crushing them with each spasm of my climax.
Throughout my body, the final and most drastic of changes joined the
thundering climax. My skeleton reformed. Most of it happened as small
pops, the bones suddenly shrinking as my chest narrowed or fingers and
toes thinned. Most blurred, the sudden simultaneous breaks and instant
healing too much for my mind to decipher. Most. My pelvis, however,
broke with a mighty crack and agony momentarily filled me. Whatever
fuelled the curse didn't care of my pain, and the broken bone widened,
changed angle and fused again in a new, female form..
And just like that, it was over.
I was a sweating, heaving mess of a woman, one hand on her clit, the
other in her pussy. I groaned, the sound feminine, alien and somehow
both wrong in it's newness and yet completely right to me. I shivered
and my breasts jiggled, reminding me that it was not a dream.
Erik Sandisson was gone leaving an exhausted woman - me - in his place.
Who the fuck was I now? More importantly, is that how it would be for
every come from here on? I grunted a noise at the thought. It had been
way, way more intense than I had ever felt as a man. I began to wonder
if I should try again straight away when a voice shocked in up right
"Holy fucking shit." I stared in horror across the room. Jenny had not
left the room with Sara as I had assumed. In fact, she sat almost
opposite me, legs parted and jeans keeping her knickers company at her
ankles. Her cunt was bald, wet, red and still twitching from her own
orgasm. I lifted my gaze from her slit to stare open mouthed at her
grinning face.
"That was the single, hottest fucking thing I have ever jilled off to."
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
* * *
Author's note:
Thanks for reading! I've long read the stories on this site and decided
to try and write one to share. Constructive feedback or requests to
continue are gratefully received at [email protected]
Valentina
- 20.07.2021
- 9
- 0
