Our Marriage Changes The Threesome
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Unforgotten free porn video
=== Unforgotten ===
by Trismegistus Shandy
This story is released under a Creative Commons
Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License. You
may repost it on other sites, for instance, or write new stories based
on it, as long as you give me credit and release your own stories
under the same license. My other stories on this site are released
under Creative Commons license as well, though I may have forgotten to
put the license notice on some of them.
-----
I had met for lunch with Rob Pilcher to discuss selling my company;
he had made a generous offer, but I'd heard some unsavory rumors about
him, and wanted to meet him and judge his character for myself. I also
wanted certain reassurances about how my employees would be treated.
He said what I wanted to hear, but I still had a bad feeling about him,
and was planning to say no.
Not long after our drinks had been brought to the table, but before the
food arrived, I excused myself and went to the restroom. That was a
mistake, of course, but how could I have known that?
Half an hour later, after we'd discussed the business and his plans for
it, and I'd finished my drink, Pilcher abruptly said: "Tap the side of
your glass twice."
Somehow it seemed really important to tap the side of my glass twice,
and I did so. Only afterward did I wonder why I'd done as he said,
why it had seemed so important to do so. I was just starting to panic
when Pilcher said "Calm down," and I did.
"Listen," he said in a low voice, and I'd never listened to anyone so
carefully in my life. "Take this and read it, then do what it says."
He slipped an index card across the table, and I read it:
When I stand up, you stand up too. We'll shake hands, then
you'll go to your car. Take your cell phone and wallet out and
leave them on the seat beside you, roll down the windows, and
drive toward your home via Crow Lake Road. But when you pass
Crow Lake, swerve right and drive into the lake. Once your car
is almost submerged, teleport to the cell in my basement and
await further instructions.
"Why?" I asked. "And how? What did you do to me?" I knew I had to do
as he'd instructed me, it was vitally important, but until he stood up,
I was free to say and do as I wished.
"We won't talk about that now," he said. "I'll explain later." Then he
waved to our waitress, paid for our lunches, and stood up as soon
as the waitress walked away. I stood and shook hands with him, then we
left and headed toward our cars.
All the way to Crow Lake, I wondered how I was going to teleport at
all, much less to a place I'd never been. I knew I had to, but how?
I didn't have a teleportation talisman -- they were too expensive --
and anyway, if I had, I could only go where it was enchanted to take me.
Maybe the index card was the talisman? But the instructions hadn't said
to hold the card and say a key phrase to activate it, or anything... so
how was I supposed to fulfill Pilcher's commands and live through it?
Obeying his commands was more important than staying alive, of course
(or so it seemed at the time), but the teleportation was as important
as any other command, and I fretted over how I was going to do it.
But when the time came, and the water came flooding in the open
windows, it was obvious. I teleported and found myself in a small
windowless room with a bed, a lamp, a chest of drawers and a small
bookshelf. The card had said "await further instructions;" I briefly
debated with myself whether that was compatible with exploring my
surroundings, and decided that it was, as long as I didn't leave the
room. I couldn't have left the room even if my instructions allowed
for it, though, because the door was locked, and I could no longer
teleport. The dressers contained underwear, socks, sweat pants and
T-shirts in approximately my size. I changed into dry clothes and
draped the sopping wet stuff over the footboard of the bed. The
bookshelf contained a dozen or so books, mostly bestsellers from the
last few years with a couple of older classics; I had little interest
in most of them, but I picked up what looked like the least
uninteresting and sat down to read.
Some time later I heard a click and the door opened. There was Pilcher.
I put the book down and awaited instructions.
"You wanted to know why and how," he said. "I dosed your drink with
something called genie potion. It's highly restricted, as are some of
its key ingredients, and not many people know about it. How I found
out about it, and got hold of the ingredients, is a long story and not
really relevant... the point is that, while you're under the influence,
you must obey me in everything, and you have the power to obey almost any
command. So let's not waste any more time. First, I want you to change
your appearance so no one will recognize you. Hmm... how about a girl?"
He grinned as he saw my look of horror. I knew I had to obey, but he'd
been pretty vague, so I changed myself into a girl I didn't think he
would be attracted to: acne-scarred, scraggly-haired, and flat-chested.
Also young and healthy, of course; I wasn't turning down the chance to
help myself a bit on the side.
But he wasn't satisfied, of course; he gave me detailed specs on his
ideal woman, and I changed myself to match. Finally he said: "That's
much better. One more thing: make yourself attracted to me."
I did, and though I suddenly realized how attractive he was, physically,
I still hated him for what he'd done to me. I didn't let on, though,
because I knew if I did, he'd make me fall in love with him, or make me
sexually addicted to him if love was beyond the power of this magic.
"Are you going to make me have sex with you?" I asked.
"I'd never do that," he said. "But you want to, don't you?"
"I'm married," I said. "I'm not going to cheat on my wife, even if you
are kind of hot."
"Give it time," he said. "You'll be living here from now on, you're
attracted to me, you won't be seeing your wife or anyone else... But,"
with a glance at his watch, "on to other business. Bring me a hundred
doses worth of the ingredients for the genie potion."
Instantly knowledge flooded my mind: not just what went into the potion,
and where it could be found, but the laws restricting the sale of certain
of those ingredients, which were also used in some other mind-control
potions, the black-market prices, the drug cartels that traded in them,
their organizational structures... I teleported to the nearest site
where the most valuable ingredients were to be found, ignoring the
shouts of gang members as I walked unerringly to the small crate that
contained twelve jars of dried dragon liver. A couple of them shot at
me, but I made the bullets bounce off. I wasn't inherently bulletproof,
but I couldn't let myself die until I'd fulfilled Pilcher's instructions.
I picked up the crate, teleported to Pilcher's basement, set it down,
and teleported to the next site.
Twenty minutes later, after visiting gangs' warehouses, government
laboratories, rich people's houses, safe deposit boxes, and the
neighborhood pharmacy, I delivered the last of the ingredients.
"What now?" I asked.
"You've got a few minutes left before the potion wears off. Use it to
fix up your quarters to your liking -- make them as luxurious as you
like while still being inescapable. No possible communication with the
outside world." He left and locked the door behind him.
I hollowed out a mansion below Pilcher's house and yard, more than ten
thousand square feet in three stories. It was lead-lined and airtight,
with a greenhouse and algae tanks to recycle my air. I was still putting
finishing touches on the kitchen, and teleporting in more food, books,
and DVDs (I'd have no radio, TV, or Internet) when the potion wore off.
I staggered off to my bedroom and collapsed.
-----
I'd gone to bed early, so I woke early the next morning -- not that it
mattered, here in this sunless mansion. I went to the kitchen and fixed
breakfast, trying to ignore my new female body, then exercised for half
an hour and sat down in the greenhouse to read. There was not much else
to do.
A few hours later, I heard the chime I'd installed to tell me when
Pilcher opened the door into the vestibule of my mansion. I put the
book down and walked upstairs to the room just beyond the vestibule,
and pressed the button to turn on the intercom and viewscreen.
"-- the hell is this? Timson, open up, I've got your breakfast."
"No thanks, I've already eaten." I looked at him via the camera I'd put
in the vestibule; he set down a tray of food and drink on the chest of
drawers, then turned back to the door and camera with a scowl.
Damn, but he was even hotter when he was angry. I'd have to be careful.
"...Ah. I guess you stocked your place with food?"
"And a nice kitchen. And an inner door to keep you out. Bye."
"Wait, we need to talk."
"You can talk from there."
"You don't have to eat the food if you're full, but open the door and
drink this. Or I'll go out and kidnap someone else and make them my
genie -- your wife or daughter, for instance. And I'll use them to
take away your luxurious quarters and lock you in a cell with no books,
nothing but straw to sleep on... got it?"
I thought for a few minutes. He'd have a harder time drugging them than
he had me, probably, but could I risk it? I opened the door.
Pilcher picked up the glass from the tray and held it out to me, looking
triumphant. I briefly debated trying to get past him to the other
door... but he was twice my mass and probably more than twice as strong.
I'd never studied martial arts or anything, and his instructions hadn't
allowed me to stock my mansion with weapons or anything else I could
use to escape; my kitchen was sadly lacking in knives and forks.
I drank the potion-laced orange juice. My time would come, I was sure.
In the stories, people who found genie bottles always managed to screw
themselves over with three wishes or less, and Pilcher had given himself
more than a hundred. Sooner or later he'd make a careless wish that I
could interpret to free myself, if not to get revenge on him.
"One little thing I forgot yesterday, first," he said, when I'd drunk the
last of the juice. "Conjure up a convincing fake corpse of your old self,
make it look like it drowned and it's been in the water for twenty hours,
and put it at the bottom of Crow Lake for the divers to find."
I did so; I was back in less than a minute, soaking wet and dripping.
"Dry yourself off," Pilcher said. I made the water evaporate from my
hair, skin and clothes. "And dress in something nicer." I turned the
T-shirt and sweats into a skirt and blouse. "A lower neckline now..."
I adjusted the blouse, afraid of where he was going with that; but he
seemed satisfied and switched gears. "Now, look over my body, inside and
out, and fix all the non-visible signs of aging. Leave my appearance the
same but make me twenty years old and perfectly healthy on the inside."
I did so. He went on to give me instructions about installing keyloggers
on his competitors' computers, and obtaining incriminating information
about competitors, judges, police officers and others he could use to
blackmail them. When I returned from my last mission, he told me to go
take a nap until the potion wore off.
-----
It was several days before he came back. I alternately read, exercised,
and thought about how to escape. Unfortunately I'd had to make the place
inescapable by any means I could think of at the time, but that didn't
mean I couldn't think of something new later. But so far, I was having
no brilliant ideas except to improvise a weapon and try to overpower
Pilcher the next time he came to give me a dose of genie potion.
I avoided showering for three days; I didn't want to confront my new body.
After I woke up I'd changed out of that skirt and blouse into a T-shirt
and sweats again, with my eyes closed. But finally I couldn't stand
the smell of myself, and gave in. I took a really long shower (Pilcher
was paying the water bill) and forced myself to look at my new body.
Unless Pilcher made a really carelessly worded wish, this was going
to be me from now on. I still managed to avoid masturbating, though I
played with my breasts some. Pilcher's ideal woman was so ridiculously
proportioned, I was going to have back pain within a few years; I might
as well get some enjoyment out of them while I could.
It was evening when Pilcher returned. I went up to the inner vestibule
when the chime rang and turned on the camera and intercom. Pilcher was
there with a glass and a snide smile. "Come on, Timson, you know
the drill."
I opened the inner door, but hid behind it.
"Come on out and drink this, or I'm going after your daughter."
I sighed and came out and drank it.
"Now, what's the big idea, making your corpse look like I drugged you?
First the police asked me a few questions since I was the last one to
see you alive, which was fine as long as it looked like an accident,
but when they found the body and did the autopsy... Damn it, Timson,
haven't I treated you okay? You've got a great place here -- I had a
look around while you were napping the other day."
"I didn't want to be a woman," I said. "I didn't want to be a prisoner
or slave."
"I just got out on bail," he said, ignoring me, "and now I want you to
make these charges go away. -- No, wait," he said, while I was still
thinking about how to interpret that vague command. "I want you to erase
yourself from history. Make everyone who knows you or has heard of you
forget all about you; erase all the physical and electronic records,
all the evidence that you ever lived. That will include this murder
charge against me."
He smiled until I plunged my fingers into his brain and erased his
memories of me. He screamed for a brief moment, then looked confused
until I teleported away.
I had the leeway to take things in whatever order I wanted, and I
started with the people who barely knew or remembered me -- my old
babysitter, my old classmates and teachers, customers I'd dealt with
only once... Then server farm after server farm, filing cabinet after
filing cabinet, erasing records of me from the hard drives and paper
files. All the companies I'd ever dealt with, from my bank to a
company I'd mail-ordered a model Stegosaurus from when I was fourteen,
and all the government branches and departments from the IRS to the
county courthouse. I had to modify my wife and daughter's records,
too, and people's memories of them -- to remove the evidence of our
marriage, and make Megan a bastard born to a single mother who
supposedly couldn't remember the name of the man she'd had sex with
nine months before.
Then all the other people I knew, the morgue of the local newspaper
and the libraries that had copies of those articles on my company.
I destroyed photos of myself and removed myself from group photos,
both in newspaper archives, in my company's offices, and in friends'
and relatives' homes. I teleported to the police morgue and destroyed my
fake corpse and all the pathologist's samples, erased the pathologist's
memories of my autopsy, and modified the memories of all the officers
who'd investigated my "murder."
Finally I could put it off no longer. I teleported home, into the
living room with all the photo albums and framed photos, and started
erasing myself from the photos. I heard the noise of clattering dishes
from the kitchen, and conversation; I knew in a few moments I'd have to
erase Karen and Megan's memories of me, and tears were pouring down my
cheeks as I picked up one photo album after another and flipped through
them, erasing myself from photos. Finally I let out a loud sob, but I
couldn't stop working.
Then Karen came into the living room. "Who are you? What are you doing?"
"I'm sorry," I said. "I have to do this." I'd save her for last,
I'd decided. I kept flipping through the photo album, using magic to
make it stick to my hands when Karen tried to grab it from me, yelling
"Get out of my house! I'll call the police!"
I drained her cellphone battery when she tried to do that. I flipped
through the next photo album, then moved on to the office. Karen grabbed
my arm and pulled, but right now I was unstoppable, and I dragged her
behind me. I pulled out one file drawer after another, disappearing
papers or erasing my name and personal data from them.
"What's going on, Mom?" Megan called.
"Go to your room and lock the door," Karen yelled. "Grab your phone
and call the police."
I drained the battery on Megan's phone, then returned to the office.
Computers next; I erased or modified all the files created by me or
mentioning me on the hard drives and all the flash drives, even on some
old 3.5" diskettes in a drawer that we no longer had any way to read.
I was crying so hard I could barely see to do my work, and Karen was
beating uselessly on me. I wanted to hug her, to tell her it would be
okay, but it wouldn't. I was free of Pilcher, but I'd lost everything,
and Karen and Megan had lost me.
Then I teleported into Megan's locked room; she screamed. "I'm sorry,
honey, I need to erase some stuff from your laptop." I picked it
up from her desk and stuck my hand into the hard drive, then grabbed
her phone and erased my contact information and a few pictures of me.
Next more pictures on a couple of flash drives, and then the framed
photos on the wall. Then I teleported into mine and Karen's bedroom
and erased myself from a few more photos.
Finally it was almost done. There were no more records of my existence,
and everyone who knew me had forgotten me, except for two. I braced
myself and prepared to erase Karen and Megan's memories of me...
...but no, I didn't need to, and I couldn't. The potion had finally
worn off.
I collapsed onto the bed and cried. I was still there when the police
came for me; apparently Karen and Megan had gone over to a neighbor's
house to borrow their phone.
-----
I told the police everything; the officers who questioned me at first
didn't believe a word I said, but soon a couple of Feds came and
questioned me further about the genie potion. I told them everything
Pilcher had told me and everything I'd magically learned when Pilcher
commanded me to steal more potion ingredients. They came back the
following day.
"Your story checks out," Agent Walters said. "We searched Pilcher's
house and found those underground rooms that he never filed building
permits for, and large amounts of highly illegal potion ingredients.
And Karen and Megan Roberts insist that you erased their husband and
father, Paul Timson, from all their photos... they say their names are
Karen and Megan Timson, too, though everybody knows them as Roberts."
"So am I free to go? And is there any way I can change back to my old
self, or at least be a man again?"
"Yes, you're free to go," Agent Sanders said. "But no, the sex-change
potions you might have read about are either not permanent or not very
effective, especially for women wanting to become men, and they have
some nasty side-effects. I recommend you talk to your doctor about the
potion and surgery options. Only reality-altering magic can permanently
change someone's sex, and it's highly illegal for reasons you know better
than most."
"We'll help you set up a new identity," Agent Walters said, "and find
a job and a place to live, on one condition."
"What's that?"
"Don't tell anyone about the genie potion or what it can do. It's highly
classified."
"Not even Karen and Megan? They deserve an explanation."
Agents Walters and Sanders looked at each other. Agent Sanders said:
"Let us tell them what they're allowed to know -- which isn't much.
Then you can meet with them, and they'll know they're not allowed to
ask you any more questions about what happened to you."
"What about Pilcher? Are you going to prosecute him for kidnapping and
enslaving me?"
"No, unfortunately, we don't have enough evidence to convince a jury.
But he'll spend at least a decade in prison just for possessing those
potion ingredients."
I resolved to be satisfied with what I could get.
-----
Agents Walters and Sanders got me out of jail, and Agent Sanders took
me shopping for clothes, then took me to a hotel and got me a room for
the night. The following evening they came by, picked me up, and took
me home.
Agent Walters rang the doorbell; Karen answered it a few moments later.
She looked at me. "Paul? Is that you?"
"It's me," I said. "Can I come in?"
Wordlessly Karen led us into the living room. "Megan," she said loudly,
"they're here."
Megan came in, looking half afraid and half hopeful. "Dad? Is that
really you?"
"It's me, honey. I'm so sorry."
She ran to me and hugged me. After a few moments she let go; we were
both crying. Finally Megan laughed, a short bark of a laugh, and said:
"Oh my God, Dad, you're hotter than me or any of the girls at school."
"Not for long," I said. "I'm having breast reduction surgery as soon as
I can... or maybe a mastectomy and sex-reassignment surgery. I want to
give this body a fair shake, first, but I don't think I'll like it even
with years to get used to it."
Karen still hadn't said anything; she was staring at me. "What did they
do to you?" she finally said.
I glanced at the Feds. "I'm not allowed to tell you. They said they'd
told you everything you were allowed to know, and everything else is
classified... what did they tell you?"
"That someone used illegal magic to turn you into a woman, and sent you
out to erase all the records of your existence. And the spell they used
to make people forget you didn't quite work right, so we still remember
you even though nobody else does."
"That's... pretty much all you need to know."
"I don't think it is. Did they just transform you physically, or did
they change you mentally too?"
I looked at Agent Sanders. "Surely I'm allowed to tell her that?"
"Go ahead," she said, "but no details about who did it or how."
I turned back to Karen. "They made me bisexual. I still love you,
but I'm attracted to at least some men as well. And I still think of
myself as a man... at least so far."
"We'll be setting Mr. Timson up with a new ID," Agent Walters said.
"We should have it ready in another couple of days. Meanwhile, will
Mr. Timson be staying here, or at a hotel?"
"Here, of course," Karen said.
"Then I believe we'll be going. We'll be in touch about the ID."
The Feds left, and I was alone with Karen and Megan. Of course they
had more questions, but I had to refuse to answer most of them. I wasn't
allowed to tell them how the person who kidnapped me had faked my death,
or confirm or deny Karen's guess that it was one of Rob Pilcher's
enemies who'd kidnapped me and framed him for my murder, or much else.
But finally Megan asked: "Daddy, did they -- I can't imagine why else
they'd turn you into a girl -- did they molest you, or...?"
"No, they didn't rape me," I said. "I don't know what they would have
done if I hadn't gotten away, I think they were planning to seduce me,
but they hadn't touched me yet." I'm pretty sure I wasn't allowed to
tell them that either, but they deserved to know.
After a while, Karen sent Megan to her room. "Your father and I need
to talk alone for a while," she said. Megan nodded understandingly and
hugged me again.
"I'm so glad you're not dead, Daddy," she said. "I know this sucks,
but it was so much worse when we thought you were dead."
"It was worse when I thought I was going to be a prisoner for the rest
of my life. I'm glad to be home, even if it's like this."
"Good night, Daddy."
"Good night, Megan."
When she'd gone, Karen and I looked at each other in silence for a few
moments. Then I asked: "Can we stay married? Can you love me like this,
or should we just try to stay friends?"
"I can try," she said, and put her hand on mine. It was the first time
she'd touched me since I came home. I squeezed her hand and put my arms
around her, and she didn't resist.
-----
I have several ebooks available from Smashwords in ePub format and
from Amazon in Kindle format; some are also available from Barnes and
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The Bailiff and the Mermaid
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Wine Can't be Pressed into Grapes
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When Wasps Make Honey
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A Notional Treason
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The Weight of Silence and Other Stories
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