Connie and Hyde
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Dr Jekyll And Missus Hyde free porn video
Henry Jekyll watched on silently as his concoction was pumped out into a
beaker.
He held the beaker up to the window to inspect it, the moonlight shining
through the clear green liquid. It was ready. He had done it. He had
created a potion that once consumed would release the user's evil side,
freeing their conscience and removing any and all complications of
morality. The user would be released of all their dark and negative
thoughts. Anger, hatred, greed, envy and most certainly lust would be
considered a thing of the past thanks to this marvellous gift. And who
better to be the first to receive such a gift than its creator?
He raised the beaker to his lips and tipped his head back, the beaker's
contents pouring down past his pallet and into his esophagus. The mixture
had an oddly salty flavour to it and it made his mouth and throat tingle.
He gulped it all down, letting out a pant of satisfaction as he placed
the beaker back down on the table.
And instantly his hand flew to his chest as pain shot through his body. A
heart attack?
He panted heavily. His chest felt tight as he gasped for air. His free
hand clung to the table, keeping him upright while his legs turned to
jelly, his body trembling as another wave of agony shot through his body.
Oh God, he was going to die. His potion was killing him.
A third rush of pain caused him to throw his head back and cry out
desperately. He swung his arm across the top of his table and sent his
vials and tools crashing to the ground. The shattered remains of his lab
reflected the moon's rays. He staggered back, by this point panting
desperately for air. He pressed his back against a wall and slowly raised
his hands to his face. His vision was blurring, and his arms just would
not stop shaking... but... something was off. Were his nails... longer
than before?
He shook his head, trying to shake away the agonising feelings bombarding
him and took a closer look. It was true. His fingernails, previously
ragged and unclean from his many a late nights' scribbling in his various
journals, were now well-manicured almond shapes. The moonlight shined off
their surface, as if bearing a coat of clear polish. And that wasn't all.
His hands had never exactly been hard or calloused those of a workman,
his career as a scholar leaving little room for manual labour. Yet even
still he could see just how much the skin on them had softened, becoming
pale, smooth and... dare he say it, delicate. Why if he didn't know any
better, he'd say they almost looked like-
Another spasm interrupted his train of thought, electing another
torturous howl from his strained vocal chords. The pain didn't stop,
shooting and spreading across his entire body. It felt like his very skin
had been set ablaze. He bent over the table, sweat pouring from his brow
as he fought to stay conscious, and he became faintly aware of an odd
tightening in his trousers. He glanced back, and his jaw dropped as he
saw his backside beginning to grow. Right before his eyes, the seat of
his pants stretched and swole almost to bursting point, doing its very
best to contain the large, pillowy derriere the scientist was now
sporting. His belt creaked and threatened to snap as his hips followed
suit, widening until they were almost as wide as his shoulders. A groan
escaped his lips as he could feel his pelvis and coccyx creaking and
changing shape to suit the new flesh surrounding it. And worse, he could
feel the same swelling sensation in his chest.
His dainty fingers flew to his chest, practically tearing open his shirt
in his need to inspect underneath. And his fears were confirmed as he saw
his pecs were already noticably softer and rapidly expanding. At first it
almost seemed like he simply required more exercise, but they refused to
stop there. Continuing to grow, he watched as they became larger,
rounder... perkier. And at the same time, the noticeable tan of Jekyll's
skin faded while his chest hair almost seemed to recede into her- er, his
skin. In a flash of desperation his hands flew to his pecs and he planted
his palms against them, mentally pleading for them to stop and shrink
back. His please were ignored. The muscles softened under his palms, and
the growing didn't stop until they were practically spilling past his
fingers.
Dr. Jekyll was speechless as he slowly pulled his hands back. He was now
the (not-so-)proud bearer of a pair of breasts. And particularly large
ones at that.
His lips flapped open and closed, his mouth trying to form words and
utterly failing, until yet another burst of pain coursed through him. He
opened his lips to yell again, but this time nothing came out except for
a weak cry, barely a whisper. His delicate fingers wrapped around his
throat, feeling it tighten as he tried and failed to speak. Under his
digits he felt his adam's apple dissolving away as her... no, his neck
slimmed down. When he finally managed to choke out a gasp, it was not the
deep, masculine tone he was acustomed to. It was like his skin, being now
soft, smooth and... feminine. He was dimly aware that his voice was
closer to what would be known in musical circles as a contralto in
comparison to his previous baritone, but he had barely any time to
register this trivia. The burning sensations passed up through his face
and more cries and gasps followed as his facial features reconfigured
themselves. With agonised creaks and groans his skeletal structure warped
and changed, becoming softer and more delicate to match the rest of her
transformed body. His hands reached up to feel his face, frightened and
pained whimpers slipping past his lips as she could feel the
transformation happening right under his skin. The fiery sting had by
this point focused itself eclusively on the top of her head, and barely
seconds had passed before it seemed to erupt in an explosion of hair. His
neatly trimmed and combed 'do vanished in an instant as her locks flowed
like a river past his ears, chin and shoulders. It was as if all the hair
that had receded into her skin from the rest of his body was now spilling
from the top of her head. The chocolate brown locks rapidly lightened,
the colour fading away and becoming a silvery white.
The transformed doctor let out one last groan as she slumped against the
wall and slid to the floor. He panted again, her hands trembling as he
looked down at herself. Grunting, he pushed herself to his feet. She
wobbled a little bit as she slowly made his way over to the mirror
hanging on her wall. She gulped, fearing what he may see.
And in the mirror, he saw... a woman.
A pale-skinned, argent-haired beauty stared back at her. Her full, pouty
lips were practically begging to be kissed while her once-green-now-
purple eyes peered out from her long, thick lashes. Her delicate, doll-
like face was framed by the long silvery tresses that cascaded down to
the small of her back. She glanced down at her body, the doctor's
masculine physique long gone in favour of slender limbs with curves in
all the right place, visible even beneath the ill-fitting man's suit.
Her gaze returned to her reflection.
And her expression shifted into a smirk.
Feelings she had never experienced before ran through her body. Her
pretty lips briefly formed into a scowl as she recalled the members of
the committee who had laughed her out the door when she first shared her
ideas of a morality potion. Her teeth ground together as she recalled one
of her former best friends who had stolen the woman she had been
courting... though granted, she felt nothing for the woman in question
anymore. She looked around her study and began to feel how sparse it was
of possessions. She knew that other, more successful scholars in his
industry no doubt had no such wants, and it made her blood boil. But most
notably, most importantly, most urgently...
She wanted to try out her new body.
Her mouth pulled itself into a wicked grin. She approached the window,
her hips swaying alluringly with every step as she swung the panes open.
The cold night air rushed into the room and making her hair billow as she
leaned out to look out over the streets of London. Ever from her second-
story vantage point, she could see figures moving between the lights of
the streetlamps. Yes, there'd be plenty of men out there that she could
have her fun with. First things first, she'd need to change her outfit;
there was bound to be a tailor still open at this time that she could get
something more fitting from. Perhaps a low-cut gown to show off her
assets, and a pair of high heeled boots to add another element of grace
to her gait. And then she'd find someone... there's always someone,
usually drunk and looking for a good time this late at night.
The mere thought caused her to throw her head back and let out a loud,
cruel laugh. This was only the beginning. Without her conscience, morals
or ethics, she was free to do as she pleased. The world was her oyster.
Look out, London, here comes Miss Edith Hyde!
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