Powers
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Powers free porn video
He was fabulously wealthy and had a beautiful young wife. He also had
hidden powers I could never have dreamed of, powers that would change
my life completely.
POWERS
by BobH
(c) 2018
- 1 -
It was Plato's 'Republic' that did it.
As usual I was working the six-'til-midnight shift at the gas station
on Highway 5, a dozen or so miles outside the town of Baxter. These
weren't hours that allowed for much of a social life, but then it
wasn't as if I could really afford much of a one anyway - I worked in a
gas station, remember. On the plus side, the work was undemanding and
those hours allowed me to fit in a lot of reading when I wasn't dealing
with customers. I first encountered *him* one evening in early summer.
And after that meeting my life would never be the same again.
I watched his arrival on the small monitor under the counter, the CCTV
that covered the pumps capturing his silver Lamborghini as it pulled in
for gas. It was a gorgeous car with what appeared to be an equally
gorgeous young blonde in the passenger seat. The driver climbed out of
the low slung seat with some effort, lifted the hose from pump number
three, removed the Lamborghini's gas tank cap, and thrust the nozzle
into the opening. He looked vaguely familiar, appeared to be in his
early sixties, grey haired and around the same height as me. He was
also obviously very wealthy, though given how much of an effort it had
been to get out of the Lambo I wondered about his health.
The charge counter for pump three displayed on the digital display next
to my monitor came to a stop at $25 precisely. Not that this was
unusual. While some customers keep pumping until their tank is full,
most stop at an exact dollar amount. This probably says something or
other about human - or at least male - psychology. It wasn't until the
guy came inside to pay for his gas that I finally recognised him.
"You're David Graham," I said, "the hotshot consultant."
His was, like, the ultimate 'local boy makes good' tale - if you accept
'local' as referring to anywhere in our state, that is - though I was
kinda hazy about what sort of consultant he was.
"Guilty as charged," he said, smiling as he pulled out his billfold.
"Twenty five bucks, right?"
"Yep," I said, taking the bills from him.
That was when he noticed the book I was currently reading
sitting on the shelf behind me.
"Plato's 'Republic'," he said, sounding surprised. "Are you a student?"
"I wish," I said, "but this isn't just a job I work when I'm not in
class; this is my actual job."
"High school drop-out?"
"Not through choice. I had to quit school as soon as I could to start
bringing money in, not that I could ever have afforded college anyway."
"Plato isn't the usual reading of a high school drop-out."
"Being uneducated isn't the same as being stupid," I replied, somewhat
defensively.
"No, it isn't, and I never meant to suggest otherwise. I'm just curious
as to how you would have encountered Plato."
Customers didn't usually show this much interest in my life.
"Mister Walesca," I said. "After he died and his relatives took what
they wanted from his trailer, they dumped all his books outside for the
everyone else in the park to help themselves to. The fiction went
pretty quickly, but no-one wanted his political non-fiction volumes,
which my mom saved for me. Been working my way through them ever
since."
"Do you live with your mom?"
"I did until I was twenty one. For the past six years I've had a one-
room apartment in town above a liquor store."
"Hmmm," he said, staring at me thoughtfully, clearly weighing me up. "I
suppose it must seem to you like I have everything."
"Well, yeah. That's a sweet ride, and your lady friend is beautiful."
"Yes, she is. We've been married three months. Natalia's what's known
as a 'black widow', a woman who marries men for their money then
murders them. She's only twenty-five and I'm her third husband."
"Wait, what?" I spluttered, completely thrown by this. "When did you
find out? Have you contacted the police about her?"
"Hardly," he chuckled. "I was the one who sought *her* out knowing full
well what she is."
I thought at first he might be pulling my leg, but his face said
otherwise.
"You're serious!" I said.
"I am, yes."
"Let me guess. You have an ironclad pre-nup so she gets nothing in the
event of a suspicious death."
"Nope, nothing of the sort. In fact I've let her know I'm leaving every
last penny to her in my will."
"That makes no sense."
"I assure you it does," he said, laying his hand over mine. "Meet me at
the Des Lux Hotel in Des Moines this time tomorrow evening to learn
why. Now I must be going."
With that he turned on his heel and left, leaving me stunned by what
had been possibly the most bizarre few minutes of my life. I pondered
his words long after the roar of his Lamborghini had faded into the
distance.
- 2 -
I could have not told you why I listened to David Graham and did as he
asked, not then at any rate, but the following day I called in sick and
took the bus into Des Moines.
The Des Lux Hotel was easily the swankiest place I'd ever set foot in.
In the lobby was a board on an easel proclaiming a charity event in the
ballroom. This was on behalf of something called the Walter Dawson
Fund, whatever that was, which probably explained all the people around
me done up to the nines in their tuxedos and evening gowns, and the
snooty way the receptionist looked me up and down when I made my way
across to reception. My jeans and leather jacket were in stark contrast
to the sartorial norm for the evening.
"Could you tell Mr Graham that his gas station attendant is here?" I
said, relishing how the words made him wince. "He's expecting me."
"As you wish," said the receptionist, his tone telling me he didn't
quite believe me. His expression quickly changed when he called
Graham's room. "Certainly, sir, I'll send him up right away."
I smiled smugly.
"Mr Graham is waiting for you in his suite on the top floor."
I made my way up to the suite and was greeted at the door by
David Graham himself.
"Come in, come in!" he said, ushering me into a room several times
larger than my entire apartment, and a lot more luxuriously appointed.
"Are you going somewhere?" I asked, noting his cummerbund, bow-tie, and
the jacket hanging over the back of a chair.
"Yes, Natalia and I are attending the charity function being held in
this hotel," he replied, fiddling with a cuff-link. "Your timing is
perfect...umm."
He frowned.
"Y'know, I never did get round to asking you your name did I?"
"It's Frank," I said, "Frank Becker, and I'm not really sure why I'm
here."
"Well, Frank, this is an audition of sorts. If you pass it, what
happens next will change your life."
I would have asked him what he meant, but his wife chose then to enter
from another room and the words died in my throat. This was my first
close up look at Mrs Graham and she was absolutely stunning, with a
gorgeous face and figure.
"Could you zip me up, darling?" she purred, presenting her back to him
and lifting her hair. She had a slight Russian accent.
"Of course, my sweet," he replied, zipping up her spectacular evening
gown. Only when she turned round to face us did she give any indication
she had noticed me.
"Who's your handsome young friend?" she asked, giving me the sort of
smile that makes men go weak at the knees.
"This is Frank," he replied, taking her hand and mine, "and he'll be
accompanying me to the charity event tonight."
As he said this I felt a disorienting moment of vertigo, one which
caused me to briefly close my eyes. When I opened them I was staring
across at myself. In shock, I cast my gaze downwards, staring in
disbelief at the cleavage revealed by the evening dress I was wearing,
my now bare arms, and the long, blonde hair I could see out of the
corner of my eye. Somehow, David Graham had switched his wife's body
with mine! I should have and would have freaked out at this point had
he not spoken the words he did next.
"Stay calm, Frank," said David, and suddenly I was. "As for you,
Natalia, go into the single bedroom and stay there watching TV until we
return."
"Ok, David," she (he?) said calmly, turning and heading for that room.
I don't have the words to describe just how weird it felt seeing my
real body walk away.
David turned his full attention to me.
"Don't worry, this is only temporary. I'll switch you back at the end
of the evening. In the meantime you will feel entirely comfortable in
Natalia's body and will say nothing to anyone to reveal you're not her.
I'll explain everything downstairs at the event."
As he said it so it became true. I *did* feel comfortable in this
female body; as comfortable as I did in my own.
David let go of my hand, donned his jacket, then offered me his arm.
"Shall we?" he said.
I took his arm and we headed out, with me both acutely aware of how
different this body was to my own and of how differently I was dressed
while at the same time feeling both comfortable and unconcerned about
the change. I now understood why I had done as David asked and met up
with him in Des Moines. Whatever he told you to do when your flesh was
in contact with his you had no choice but to comply with. This combined
with his ability to switch the minds of others meant he was
terrifyingly powerful.
When the elevator arrived and the doors opened, I caught my first full
look at myself in its rear mirror. Even knowing I was now this
beautiful woman I still couldn't quite accept it. The image in the
mirror was not the one I usually saw, was not me as I knew myself to
be, yet when I moved so did she. I lifted a hand to my face and she did
the same, gently running her fingers over her lips like I did mine. As
we descended in the elevator, I became fascinated by multiple
sensations new to me: the gentle heaving of my breasts as I breathed in
and out, the long hair brushing my bare shoulders as I moved my head,
the feeling of nylon stockings cladding my legs, and the taste of
lipstick on my mouth.
Exiting the elevator at ground level, I once again took David's arm.
"We've been assigned a table with Preston and Lavinia van Persie," he
said as we entered the ballroom. "A lovely couple, and major
philanthropists. They flew out from their home on the west coast just
to be here this evening."
At the far side of the ballroom was the stage from which we would soon
be regaled by various celebrities with stories designed to elicit large
donations from us. The rest of the room was dotted with tables at
which
expensively clad men and women were sitting while caterers moved
between them carrying trays of wine. We grabbed a glass each from one
of these then David led me over to a table where an elderly couple were
already seated. The man got to his feet when we reached it.
"Ah, David, " he said, offering his hand, "so good to see you again."
"You too, Preston," said David, shaking hands then placing his free
hand on the woman's bare shoulder, "and Lavinia, of course. And now
that I'm making contact with both of you these are my instructions. My
wife and I will be discussing important personal matters. You will
ignore anything we say this evening, remembering only such conversation
as we have with you. Oh, and you will of course forget me ordering you
to do so."
David broke contact with the couple and we sat down. A small amount of
inconsequential small talk followed before we got down to business.
"I've now shown you what my powers are capable of," said David, "so
what do you think?"
"I think they're terrifying," I replied. "You could use them on people
in key positions and take over the country if you wanted to."
"I could," he conceded, "but who needs all that work? Also, why would I
make myself a target for an assassin's bullet? No, these are powers
best used on the down-low with no one even suspecting they exist."
"Is that how you got so rich? Using your powers, I mean."
"Yes, but not in the way you probably imagine. I could just tell people
to give me money while touching them and they would, but that doesn't
work for me. Despite the enormous temptation, I have a moral code I
adhere to. If they give me money I have to give them something in
return for it."
"Is that what your consultancy is for?"
"Clever boy; that's exactly what it's for. I charge two hundred
thousand for a ten minute session with me. It's a price they gladly
pay, and I'm worth it. I also tell them to sing my praises to their
wealthy friends in order to bring in new business, of course."
"What is it you do for them, exactly?"
"I boost their confidence, assuring them they're the best, and
afterwards those that suffered in any degree from imposter syndrome no
longer do."
"Imposter syndrome? What's that?"
"The feeling that you don't deserve to be where you are, that you're a
fraud in some way, and that any day now you're going to be found out.
It's surprisingly common, even among very successful people."
"It sounds nuts!"
"I assure you it's very real. For example, the writer Neil Gaiman tells
a story about being at an event for high-flyers and finding himself at
the back of the room talking to someone he describes as a very well-
mannered, very polite elderly gentleman. The guy was telling him he
didn't feel worthy of being in such company, that everyone there had
produced great works of art, or were Nobel prize winners whose
scientific discoveries had contributed greatly to human knowledge,
while all he'd ever done was go where they sent him. 'Well,' said
Gaiman, 'you *were* the first man on the moon. I think that counts for
something'."
"So even Neil Armstrong felt that way?"
"Yup, even him. And if one of the most globally famous people in human
history could feel that way, a man whose name will live forever, then
of course others will too."
I took a sip of my wine, momentarily distracted by the long, painted
nails on the hand holding the glass, then put a question to him.
"You might have no interest in taking over the country," I said, "but
have you ever been tempted to influence specific politicians to get
your desired result on any issue?"
"Of course, but I've never done so. What about you? Would you use the
powers that way?"
"Maybe. The main difference between the parties is that the Democrats
pretend to care about the poor and the Republicans don't. Either way,
if you're poor you're screwed. It's considered unseemly or even
Communist to talk about class differences in America. Of course, the
people who've decided it's unseemly or even Communist are those whose
interests that narrative best serves, namely the rich and powerful.
There's been a class war under way in this country for decades, and
they're kicking our asses. I agree with you about not wanting to take
over wholesale or make a target of yourself, so I'd work as a political
consultant or lobbyist for a while. That way I could figure out
exactly
where the levers of power are then manipulate them to slowly change
things so the country became a fairer, more equitable place than it is
now."
"Interesting," said David, regarding me thoughtfully. "You might just
be the one I'm looking for."
"The one? What one?"
"The one I pass my powers on to."
- 3 -
For a moment I sat there stunned.
"How...how do you know you can trust me with them?" I asked.
"I don't, not for sure. I'm not an idiot; I understand human nature.
None of us is a saint. Given these powers anyone, anyone at all is
going to use them to do a few questionable things. What I want to
ensure is that the person I give them to isn't going to go nuts with
them. I daren't let them end up in the hands of a monster! And can you
imagine what our government, what *any* government would do if they
knew these powers existed and were transferable?"
He shuddered then took a sip of his wine.
"You're not the first one I've auditioned, Frank. Just last week I
sized up someone who seemed perfect. Unfortunately it soon became clear
he considered himself an 'incel' and would use the powers to get all
the women he felt he deserved to have sex with. In other words, he
would use the powers for rape. You're a good-looking guy, Frank, and
you seem pretty confident, so I assume that even given your financial
circumstances attracting women is not a problem."
I gave a shrug.
"I do alright," I said.
"So you wouldn't use my powers to bed women?"
"No," I answered, truthfully - not that I had any choice but to be
truthful, "I would not. What turns me on is knowing the woman wants to
be there, that she chose to be with me. It's why I'd never use
prostitutes, even if I could afford to."
"Good, good," said David, nodding, "but what about revenge? Swapping
bodies and lives between those who don't deserve their good fortune and
others who deserve it more is one thing, but taking petty, personal
revenge is another. Would you use the powers for personal revenge?"
"Yes," I said, "but not petty, and only on one person: my father."
"Explain."
So I did.
"OK," said David, after listening to my story, "I think that one's
understandable, and entirely justified. So...if I offered you my
powers, would you take them?"
I'd been thinking of nothing else since he raised the possibility,
weighing the pros and cons while we talked, so I'd already decided what
my answer would be.
"Yes," I said, "I would."
"Then it's time I told you a story. Before coming into my powers I was
a high school math teacher. The person who passed them on to me had no
idea where they came from, any more than the person who passed them on
to him did. I know they go back at least a century, but they could go
back further, much further. I've demonstrated to you what they can do,
but transferring them to someone else is a one time only deal. Once
you've given the powers away they cannot be returned to you. So here's
the deal, I will transfer them to you and you will then use them to
switch my body with Natalia's."
That was when everything I'd seen finally fell into place.
"Now it all makes sense," I said. "You're dying, but why choose to
become a woman?"
"I've spent sixty three years as a man, and I'm ready to try something
else. When you've made the transfer you will tell me I'll be happy with
my new body and find it comfortable - but only that. Then our business
will be concluded, save for one thing. If and when I contact you and
ask you to switch the bodies of two people you will do so without
question. Do you agree?"
"I do."
Having realised what they could ultimately be used to achieve I'd
expected this to be part of David's terms, because I wasn't an idiot,
either.
"Then let's get back to my room and do this, before the speeches
begin."
We rose to our feet, said our goodbyes to the van Persies, and left the
ballroom. As we retraced our steps, my stiletto heels tapping out a
rhythm on the marble floor, I thought about David's final condition.
Instructing the person you pass the powers on to to switch the bodies
of any two people you ask them to was a way of attempting to achieve
immortality. And David had not specified that one of those people would
necessarily be him. Which meant earlier wielders of these powers were
probably still out there and still calling on their successors for that
service. After all, the only way David could know the powers were a
century or more old was if that was also true of one of his still
living predecessors. It was a clever system, and when it was my time to
pass the powers on to someone else you could be damn sure I'd be
continuing it.
When we reached his room, David returned Natalia and me to our own
bodies then took both my hands in his.
"My final instruction to you is to do all that was agreed," he said,
"now accept my powers."
If I'd expected anything dramatic I'd have been disappointed. All I
felt was a faint tingling that travelled up my arms and into my head,
where I momentarily experienced a sort of soundless buzzing. And then
it was over. David dropped his arms.
"Now make me Natalia," he said.
His wife was still standing docilely next to him. I frowned.
"She received all her instructions before I gave you my powers," he
said, holding out his hand, a move she mirrored.
Shrugging, I took their hands and performed the transfer. How did I
know what to do? Beats me. I just did, that's all.
"You will be happy and comfortable in your female body," I told him-
now-her, then released their hands.
The former Natalia went and sat in a chair, smiling faintly, while the
new one ran her hands over her face and body before letting out a
throaty laugh.
"How do I look?" she asked.
"Absolutely stunning," I said.
"Yes, I do, don't I? I think I'm going to enjoy life as a beautiful
woman."
"What happens to the former Natalia now?"
"Oh, that's all arranged. I'll be taking him to a nursing home tomorrow
where he'll spend whatever months or weeks he has left. All the papers
have been signed to give me power of attorney over his affairs, of
course."
"Of course," I said.
She held out her hand.
"Goodbye, Frank. I've given you a gift most people can only dream of.
Use it as wisely as you can. I'll also arrange the legal transfer of my
consulting business to you tomorrow. If you're serious about your
intentions it will give you a platform from which to carry them out. I
shall follow your progress with interest."
We shook hands, and then I left, still somewhat dazed by the events of
the past twenty-four hours. When I reached the hotel lobby I stopped
for a moment, letting what had just happened sink in. This was like
winning the lottery - no, a *hundred* lotteries.
And I was determined to share it with the person who meant more to me
than anyone else in the world.
I took out my phone and called her.
"Mom? It's Frank. Something unbelievable has happened to me. I'll come
over tomorrow and show you. In the meantime I want you to think about
who you'd choose to be if you could be anyone else in the world. Why?
You'll see, Mom, you'll see."
For the first time in my life I had the means to do something wonderful
for my mother. I could hardly wait.
*********
The End
*********
Notes:
If you want to see what Frank does with his powers check out the other
tales in the sequence:
1. Powers
2. Whatever Happened to Wonder Woman?
3. Whatever Happened to Wonder Woman: The Investigation
I wasn't planning on making this a trilogy but, well, like most writers
not constrained by contracts I go where the muse takes me.
Unfortunately, I got enthused by another story midway through writing
this one so it sat on my hard drive semi-complete for months before I
finally got back to it.
If I've put it together correctly, when this and 'Whatever Happened to
Wonder Woman?' are read one after the other they should fit together
fairly seamlessly.
Cheryl
- 18.12.2020
- 30
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