The Legend of the Medallion of Zulo
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If I Found The Medallion Of Zulo free porn video
If I found the Medallion of Zulo (revised)
You've found the Medallion of Zulo. Now what? This story tries to follow
"realistically" what I'd do.
*****
Since in real life I'm married with kids, I've set this a few years in
the future. 60 years old and in good health. Kids grown up and left home.
Estranged from my wife.
(This is much harder to do if I was still married - that might be the
subject of a future story. But in my current situation, with kids in my
care, I just wouldn't do it. I'd have to wait until they'd grown up).
*****
One day, at a backyard "garage sale", I saw a chest of junk which the
owner said had belonged to his Uncle Joe who mysteriously disappeared,
and was for sale for $5. In that chest was an old medallion with a
picture of (what looked like) a fairy on it. It couldn't be the Medallion
of Zulo, could it?
But it was worth the gamble. I paid the $5 and took it home.
So how was I going to test it? The easy option would be to use an item of
my wife's clothing, and turn into a copy of her - I was sure I could find
something around the house somewhere. But what if one of my daughters had
tried it on? That didn't bear thinking about. I didn't want to risk that.
However, I'd read that if you put on the Medallion of Zulo and touch it
to an item of women's clothing which has never been worn, you change into
a female version of yourself, age appropriate to the clothing. That
sounded perfect.
So I decided that if I was going to try it, I might as well try to be
young as well. I checked out the website of Target, which is the closest
department store to my house. The oldest girls' section is for ages 7-14.
I was a bit scared that I'd look creepy buying girls' clothes, but I
decided that pyjamas were a safe bet. I'd just look like a grandfather or
father buying some cute pyjamas for his granddaughter or daughter.
The largest size girls' pyjamas seemed to be size 14, which I assumed
corresponded to a girl aged about 14.
So I went into Target and got some girls' "Frozen" themed size 14
pyjamas. Feeling a bit brave - figuring I could slip them through with
the pyjamas - I also bought some size 14 panties and a bra. Since neither
my mother or sister are especially "large", I decided on an A cup bra.
I went through the checkout without incident, and headed home.
If the legend of the Medallion of Zulo was true, then it would take half
an hour to change, and then I'd have to wait at least 12 hours before I
could change back, and the change back itself would take another half an
hour. That meant I needed at least a 13 hour block where I wouldn't be
interrupted.
So I decided to wait until 8pm. My adult children never called
unannounced, but I figured 8pm was late enough so that, if they did call,
they'd just assume I'd gone to bed or gone out. Besides, they were more
likely to text than call, and if I really did transform, I could still
reply to texts. And then, I'd be able to change back at 8.30 am, and be
back to my normal self at 9.00, before anyone was likely to call.
That, of course, was if it worked.
So at 8pm I stripped off, put the medallion around my neck, and touched
it to the pyjama top. I felt a spark, like a small electric shock.
It took a while to notice anything. Then gradually, I noticed my hair
becoming less gray, and skin becoming more toned. After about 10 minutes,
I looked more like a 30 year old man. Then after a few more minutes,
weight began coming off and I was as thin as I was when I was 20.
I wondered if these were gender neutral pyjamas and I would simply be
transformed into a boy. "That wouldn't be so bad," I thought, "because at
least it means the medallion works."
I began to slowly lose height. After a few more minutes, I got to the
point that I looked exactly like I did when I was about 14. My body hair,
including my pubic hair, thinned out; and my penis got somewhat smaller.
I was slightly disappointed. It would be fun to be a 14 year old boy
again, but I really wanted to be a 14 year old girl.
And then, as I looked, I realised that my penis was getting a LOT
smaller, smaller than I had ever remembered it being. I felt my scrotum,
and it was tight against my body, with my balls almost non-existent.
The realisation that I was changing sex was incredibly arousing, and I
began to get a tiny boner. Yet even as I became aroused, my erect penis
continued to fade away. Within a minute or two it had completely
disappeared from view. Yet the feeling of arousal was as strong as ever,
I felt a strong tingling in what was now my clitoris.
Then, little breasts began to form. First there were little buds, and
they grew out to maybe A cups.
Finally, my hair grew out to my shoulders. Apparently the medallion was
changing me to how I'd look if I was born female. I noticed my legs
appeared to be shaved too.
When my hair stopped growing, that was it: the transformation was
complete.
The most astounding thing, apart from the age and sex change, was how
little my face had changed. My face looked exactly like it did when I was
a 14 year old boy.
Words cannot describe how alive and happy I felt. I'm sure that was
partly being 14 again, but a big part was finally realising my lifelong
fantasy of being female. A girl! Me, a girl! I felt down below, and
marvelled at how smooth it was, not having a penis there. It was amazing,
and it was perfect.
I gave a giggle, and couldn't believe the high pitched sound coming from
my mouth.
Finally, after 60 years, I was who I was meant to be.
I danced nude around the house with joy. It was made even better by the
way my little boobies bounced. And then, best of all, I realised that
nothing was bouncing around down below.
Then I put on the panties and pyjamas. I rubbed my crotch and again
marvelled at how flat it was. I drank water and waited until I had to
pee. Then sat on the toilet and peed, no hands, like a girl. The way I'd
always dreamed of peeing.
I was so excited I stayed awake until midnight, gently rubbing and
feeling myself. Finally, I drifted off to a very happy sleep.
I woke up in the morning, initially confused by the hair in face. Then I
remembered, and reached a hand to my groin. "Oh!" I squealed out loud
with joy. It hadn't been a dream!
After feeling myself some more, I looked at myself in the mirror. How old
would I pass for? Could this 14 year old pass for an adult?
Pretty soon I decided: not a chance. When I was a teenager, I always
looked a bit younger than I was. It seemed the female version of myself
was the same. Though notionally the pyjamas were for a 14 year old, I
looked more like 12 or 13.
So I needed another plan. I measured the length of my foot, so I could
get my new shoe size for future reference. I was a size 7. Then,
reluctantly, I used the medallion to change back into my male self.
So now I knew it worked, I had to decide what my long term plan was: what
age woman should I turn into?
I couldn't be a 12 to 14 year old, because I'd have no independence.
I could use a piece of adult women's clothing from the store, which would
mean I'd stay my original age, and turn into a 60 year old woman. Now
given the choice between a 60 year old man and a 60 year old woman, I'd
jump at the chance to turn into a woman. But there was a problem: I was
over 6 foot tall, and any transformation would make me significantly
shorter. There was no way I'd pass as a sex changed version of myself.
Which would mean I'd be a woman with no identity.
Alternatively, I could transform myself into a younger girl and somehow
wander into a police station or hospital. Presumably I would eventually
get adopted and get a new identity. But that's fraught with problems: if
I changed into a baby, I may never get found and could die because I'd be
so helpless. But anything older than a baby, and I'd be the questioned
about my birth parents, perhaps even be on the news as they tried to re-
unite me with them. Besides, who knows what sort of family I'd be adopted
into?
So I decided I needed to be old enough to be self sufficient. Probably an
adult (which is 18 here in Australia), so I could do things like open a
bank account and rent my own place.
Then I had an inspiration: I'd become my own daughter! I'd forge an
identity as my own 18 year old daughter, old enough to be independent but
young enough to start a new life. Best of all, there'd be a plausible
back story. I'd be the product of an affair, between myself (Paul Jones)
and an unknown woman, who had since died. The mother would be fictitious
but at least the father could be identified. There would even be a DNA
match to my actual children to back my story, if necessary.
So I went off to buy clothing, to attempt to turn into an 18 year old
woman instead of a 14 year old. I bought a dress that looked styled for a
young woman, and also some underwear, socks, a jacket, and a handbag.
Since I was shoe size 7 as a 14 year old girl, and girls' feet don't
usually get much bigger after age 14, I also bought a pair of size 7
women's walking shoes. To play it safe, in case my feet had a little
growing to do, I got a size 8 pair as well.
So the next evening, I stripped off, and touched the medallion to the
dress.
However this time, I did not become more youthful. Instead, I immediately
began losing height. I also began losing muscle tone, as weight
redistributed and my arms became flabbier and my legs became plumper.
Breasts began to form. Then finally, the best part, my penis shrank and
retracted into my body, leaving a vulva.
Yes I was a woman, and my facial features were similar enough that I was
clearly a female version of myself again. But I hadn't changed age. So
the transformation hadn't quite gone as hoped. Presumably with the magic
working on the intention that a 60 year old woman could wear this dress,
I transformed from a 60 year old male into a 60 year old female version
of myself.
Now it wasn't all bad: I still felt good being female. There was still
the amazing feeling of rubbing my hand across my crotch and feeling no
penis, just folds of a vulva behind my pubic hair.
What's more, 60 year old female me was far more sexually responsive than
14 year old female me. The previous night I had rubbed my pussy and,
while it was pleasurable, there was no real sexual response. But this
night, when I stroked my clitoris (MY clitoris!), I could quickly feel
myself get "wet" for the first time. Then I was able to experience, for
the first time, pushing a finger up inside myself. Then I rubbed my
clitoris and played with my boobs some more and, after a few minutes,
brought myself to my first female orgasm. Instead of my penis throbbing,
the sides of my vagina clenched and pulsed, as pleasure flowed through my
body. It was amazing; far better than any orgasm I'd had in my 45 or so
years as a sexually mature male.
But still, the orgasm wasn't the best part. The best part was simply
BEING female. The feeling of no penis. Of a pussy, of boobs, of a soft
voice, of wide hips, of smooth skin. It was who I was meant to be. It was
what I'd dreamed of being for most of my 60 years.
So now I knew: I'd be happy growing old as a female, one day. But I
couldn't stay that way now.
But how could I transform into a young woman? How could I find age
specific clothing, which didn't turn me into a child?
And then it hit me: prom dresses! Only teenage girls, or barely adult
women, wear prom dresses.
So I stayed as a 60 year old woman the next morning. (Because it'd be a
little odd for an older male to look at prom dresses). I couldn't drive
because my license said "male", so I walked a couple of kilometres to the
formal wear store. Fortunately, the size 8 shoes fitted and walking
wasn't too bad.
At the formal wear store I looked at high school formal (prom) dresses. I
explained to the assistant that it was for my daughter who was the same
height but a little thinner. I picked one from a back rack, which had
hopefully never been tried on by anyone else.
I took it home, stripped off, put on the medallion, and touched it to the
dress.
And sure enough, I began to get younger. My hair lost its gray, and my
skin became firmer and younger looking. My boobs "unsagged" and became
nice and perky. I became slimmer.
But best of all, after the transformation was complete, my face hadn't
really changed, and was clearly the same person as my 14 year old female
self from the other day. I had done it! I had turned into, at a guess, a
19 year old female version of myself.
Perfect!
And I've got to say, being a 19 year old female was pretty awesome. I had
the energy of a 14 year old, but I had sexual maturity too. I again laid
back on the bed and rubbed myself, and brought myself to another mind-
blowing female orgasm. But unlike the night before, I still felt like I
had energy afterwards.
I stood up and looked at my naked self in the mirror again. I'm sure many
other women were more beautiful, but I loved what I saw. My pert boobs,
my smooth skin, my shapely hips, and of course not having a penis - I
oozed femininity. I looked female and I felt female. After all these
years, this was the identity I was going to take. And it was perfect.
Still, wonderful as this was, the older and younger versions of me could
be useful. I found some tags. On one tag I wrote "F14", and attached it
to the pink pyjamas. On another I wrote "F60" and attached it to a pair
of panties I had been wearing as the older female me, who I dubbed
"Paula". Finally I wrote "F19" on the tag of the panties I was going to
be wearing that day. Now I could turn into 14, 19 or 60 year old me with
a single touch of the medallion.
I could hardly go out in public in a formal (prom) dress. So I put on
Paula's dress from the other day, which was a bit baggy. Paula's walking
shoes fitted though. Then I walked to Target to get some underwear and a
casual dress to fit my 19 year old body.
Once all that was done, I enjoyed the rest of the day as a young woman. I
quickly discovered several different ways to masturbate. Rubbing the
clitoris. Using a marker pen as a dildo. Using the detachable shower
head. And perhaps best of all, "humping": rubbing my crotch against the
bed post while I still had panties on. I think I liked that best because
pushing my crotch against that post gave me a continuous reminder that I
was all girl now.
After a contented sleep, and one more wonderful masturbation the next
morning, I changed back into Paul, my male self. Then I set to work on
creating my new identity.
The first and most important part of getting a new identity, is a birth
certificate. After much investigation, I got my hands on the right paper
and print service. I decide to forge a birth certificate myself, to make
it untraceable.
I printed a birth certificate for Rachel Smith, born 19 and a half years
ago. I listed the father as "unknown". I gave the mother as Julie Smith.
I deliberately chose a common surname so that she was practically
untraceable.
My back story was that I was the product of an affair between Paul Jones
and Julie Smith. Julie Smith had died; so Rachel had recently moved to my
city to be closer to her father.
I figured that a forged birth certificate was all I needed. [In my real
life, my birth certificate has occasionally been presented but never
investigated to any great degree.] Everything else I should be able to
get legitimately.
The next thing I did was withdraw a whole lot of cash. Australian banks
let you withdraw pretty large sums like 10 to 30 thousand dollars in cash
at once, so long as you notify the bank ahead of time. So I sold some
investments, told the bank I intended to withdraw 30,000 in cash, and
went and got it the next day.
The next step was to find a place to live. Eventually, after scouring ads
for a few days, I found a suitable apartment, quite close to my house,
being privately let.
So I changed back into 19 year old Rachel. I also ensured that my home
phone number was set as private so it didn't show the number when I
called.
Then I called the apartment owner. I explained that I had no rental
history because I used to live with my mother until she died, and now I
was staying with my father. But I couldn't give my father's address
because the rest of my father's family didn't know about me. I offered a
little more than the asking rent and offered to meet him.
The owner seemed convinced and we set a time to meet. But there was a
catch. As Rachel, I didn't want to be seen leaving my house by any
neighbour. So I put on an old coat over the dress, a scarf my wife had
left behind, and sunglasses. That way, as I left the house, it would have
been hard to tell what aged woman I was. A few blocks away, I stuffed the
coat and scarf in my handbag, and went to meet the apartment owner.
I presented as a well-spoken and reliable sounding young woman, and he
agreed to rent the small apartment to me.
On the way back, I again put on the coat and scarf so it hopefully
wouldn't look like a young woman entering my house.
Then, after another very enjoyable night, the next morning I changed back
to Paul.
Once the lease was finalised a few days later, it was time to spend a few
days as Rachel. To do that, I changed into Paula the night before. I
figured it was far preferable to leave the house as Paula than as Rachel.
The first time was unavoidable, because I had to make a phone call to my
landlord as Rachel. But in general, I didn't want Rachel associated with
my forthcoming disappearance by being seen leaving and entering the
house. But Paula was fine - if confronted, I could say I was in a
romantic relationship with Paul. And then when Paul disappeared, Paula
would be untraceable.
So the next morning - more than 12 hours later - I left the house as
Paula. I took my phone with me, but left it switched off - I didn't want
any GPS tracking to associate Paul with Rachel's apartment. I went to a
secluded area in a park, touched the medallion to the "F19" panties, and
sat quietly while my body gradually lost age and transformed into Rachel.
Paula's clothes were now a little loose on me, but I didn't have to get
changed.
Then as Rachel, I collected the keys and began to set up my life in the
apartment. Using some of the cash I had previously withdrawn, I went
shopping and bought some more clothes, some basic furniture (to be
delivered to the apartment) and some kitchen and bathroom essentials.
Also, while I was at the mall, I turned on my phone and checked for any
messages, and replied when I had to. I did this at the mall so GPS
tracking wouldn't show anything strange about my movements, and always
turned the phone off before returning to the apartment. I did this once a
day, so that no one would suspect Paul was missing. I wanted to
disappear, but the pieces weren't quite in place yet.
To open a bank account, all you need is a birth certificate and one other
piece of identification, which can be a lease agreement. So now I had the
lease agreement, I went to the bank and opened an account in the name of
Rachel Smith.
Once I had three pieces of identification - birth certificate, lease
agreement, and bank statement - I was able to enrol in TAFE as Rachel. In
Australia, TAFE - "Technical and Further Education" - offers various
courses for adults, including the ability for young adults to complete
secondary school. I needed to do this to get grades so I could attend
university, and re-qualify for my old profession as a software engineer.
The back story was that I was home schooled so there were no records. I
sat some preliminary tests to satisfy them I could do Year 12 school
work. Of course in real life I had a university degree so I cruised
through with near perfect marks. So TAFE enrolled me into its Year 12
course.
Just as importantly, TAFE gave me a student card with a photo ID for
Rachel Smith.
With both a birth certificate and photo ID, I was finally able to get a
mobile phone (cell phone) as Rachel. (Just as I never turned Paul's phone
on at the apartment, I never took this phone to my house).
With Rachel's life reasonably in place after those few days, I did the
change in reverse. I put on the baggy "Paula" dress, went to the park,
changed to Paula using the "F60" panties, and walked back to my house.
Then the next morning I changed back to Paul.
I sold some more investments, and withdrew some more cash. I figured that
gave me enough money to get through Year 12 and university. Besides, I
could always get a part time job, since I'd find the school and
university work so easy the second time around. I also mentioned to the
bank teller that I needed it for a vacation around Australia, just to
throw in another alibi for when I disappeared.
The rest of my property and assets were left to my actual children in my
will (as they always had been, there was no need to change my will).
Eventually I was set. Rachel had a birth certificate, a bank account, a
photo ID, TAFE enrolment, and a phone; and some money to help get through
school and university.
I took a few last days as Paul. I spent some time with my children. Yes I
would miss them, but it was more important to live as the woman I
desperately wanted to be. I also made sure I was seen around my suburb,
so no one would suspect me missing for a few days afterwards.
Then it was time for "the sting".
The day before my disappearance, I collected all clothes around the house
which were associated with my female identities, except what I'd need the
next day, put them in a bag, and dropped the bag in a public rubbish bin.
I didn't take them to the apartment, because I never wanted Paul to be
seen at the apartment.
That afternoon, inside the house, I changed into Paula, the 60 year old
female version of myself.
About 6 in the morning, I left as Paula to go for a walk. This was so
early that the chances were the neighbours wouldn't see me; but if I did
happen to be seen, it wouldn't be unusual for someone to be walking at
that time, and there would be no way to trace this mystery woman. I wore
running shoes, underwear, and typical baggy old woman's walking gear:
baggy shirt and shorts. I took a small backpack, into which I put a drink
bottle, Rachel's running outfit and keys, and of course the medallion.
Once I shut the front door, there was no going back. Because I didn't
dare take Paul's phone or keys, so I was locked out, with all Paul's
possessions inside the house.
I walked to the large nature reserve a few kilometres from my house. In
there, I found a secluded spot.
I took Rachel's running gear out of the backpack, and the medallion. I
touched the medallion to the running singlet and transformed into Rachel
for the last time. I took off Paula's shirt and shorts, and put on
Rachel's running singlet and shorts. The running shoes still fitted so I
didn't need to change them.
I stayed in hiding for a few hours, just to make less likely any
identification between Paula and Rachel. At one stage I had to pee, and
of course I had to squat to do it. Yes that was inconvenient, but it was
exciting too. It reinforced again that I was leaving my male life.
In retrospect, I realise that some time around then I dropped the
medallion.
Around 9 in the morning, as Rachel I came jogging out of the other end of
the reserve. I carried a water bottle, into which I'd somehow stuffed
Paula's shirt, shorts and backpack.
Then I jogged on to Rachel's apartment to begin my new life.
*****
That evening, when I realised I'd mislaid it, I went back to the reserve
to try to find the medallion. But it was gone. I never found it again.
But no matter. It was wonderful to have my new life and new identity.
Best of all, it was wonderful to be female, permanently. I have never
regretted it.
A week or so after my disappearance, Paul was reported missing by one of
my children. Of course he was never found, and his disappearance remained
a mystery.
I settled into life as Rachel. I breezed through school and university,
and landed a good job in I.T.
There was a problem though: I didn't apply for an Australian TFN (Tax
File Number), because I didn't have a valid birth certificate.
Eventually, after working a couple of years, the tax office investigated
why I didn't have a TFN, and that's when they discovered that my birth
certificate was fake.
When I was questioned, I played dumb. I said my mother organised my birth
certificate, and she had since died. They got more suspicious when I
couldn't provide many details about my mother or where I grew up. So I
decided I had to confess that my biological father was Paul Jones, the 60
year old man who mysteriously disappeared several years ago.
DNA tests confirmed I was related to Paul Jones. I even got to meet the
people who (authorities thought) were my half-siblings. So I kept some
amount of contact with my children, which was an unexpected bonus.
But since authorities couldn't think of any plausible alternative, they
accepted that I was Paul Jones' daughter. And with an Australian father,
a record of living in my apartment for the last 7 years, an Australian
accent, and a well-paying job, the authorities relented. They agreed it
was not my fault that my mother didn't properly register my birth. They
gave me a TFN and I was able to work legally.
And so here I am. I've used the Medallion of Zulo to change into Rachel
Smith, a young professional woman. And no one suspects who I really am.
*****
(Postscript)
Or so she thought.
Off the record, one investigator had his suspicions. When he compared
Rachel's DNA to that from Paul Jones' hair, it was almost exactly the
same. It was almost as if they were the same person.
It reminded him of another case he'd investigated a few years previously,
the disappearance of Joe Dalton. In that case, also, there was a young
female who had given a too-perfect DNA match to the missing male.
He couldn't prove anything, but privately, he had to investigate this
further.
Latisha
- 27.09.2020
- 13
- 0
