Altered Fates: The Boss

This is a VERY dark Altered Fates tale. It contains obscenity, the rape of two girls (males transformed by the Medallion), and the ravings of a very sick mind. (Not me, the narrator, and no wisecracks, please, about not being able to tell the difference.)

This was an experiment; a thought piece to see what would happen if a truly nasty man found the Medallion and decided to use it for his own purposes.

Altered Fates: The Boss
By Ellie Dauber
Copyright 1999

I have not always hated Don Kuzak.

When we were both salesman, I almost liked him. Almost. We each had our separate client lists. Since the company frowned on in-house raiding, we didn’t bother one another very often. I do admit to being galled by his success. He’d come to the company fresh out of college, and, in five years, he’d become the top salesman. I, on the other hand, had been with the company almost fifteen years. My accounts were good, usually well above the quotas, but I was one of three or four salesmen who took turns making the most sales in a given month.

Kuzak beat the bunch of us most of the time. Worst of all, he was so ingratiating about it. He called it dumb luck, even as he beat us month after month. With his boyish grin, he actually got the others to accept it. Even to like him.

I began to hate him.

Then Jack Markham retired. Jack had been head of Sales for as long as I’d worked for the company. He was a very good salesman in his own right, but, as an administrator, he had to keep a smaller customer list. He was no competition. I’d heard rumors of his leaving about a year before his actual retirement, and I decided that I wanted his job.

We’d been casual friends for years, but I decided to play up to the man. I managed to accidentally run into him at a school play his son was in and complimented him on how well the boy was in a minor role. When he couldn’t get his car started one rainy afternoon, I gave him a lift home. (Too bad, the spark plug wire had snapped, wasn’t it?) At the same time, I put a little extra effort into my accounts. I never beat Kuzak’s monthly total, but I came close. I might have felt bad about it, but I knew -- even if they all denied it -- that the others were trying to do the same sort of thing.

About a week before he left, we all threw Jack a retirement party. Everybody in the office came, even old man Brooks, the C.E.O. I had been talking to some of Jack’s clients -- no sense letting anybody else get a chance at them -- so I invited them, too. I just asked them not to say that it was me who told them about the party.

As the party was winding down, Brooks called for everyone to be quiet. Said he had to make a couple of announcements. He called Jack up and made a long, stupid speech about what a good man Jack was and how sorry the company was to lose him. Then he gave Jack a plaque that named him “Salesman Emeritus” and a check that represented an extra one percent commission on all his sales for the past six months. It came to a couple thousand dollars. I didn’t know that Jack’s accounts were that good.

Jack smiled and held up the check for everybody to see. He said how happy he’d been with the company and how sorry he was to be retiring. Then he asked Brooks if he could make the other announcement. Brooks nodded. Jack said how much he loved the company, and how he wanted to leave the Sales Department in good hands. He talked about the merits of every salesman in the office, even the ones who were barely making quota. I was one of the last he mentioned, and I was glad to hear all the nice things he had to say. They were all true, of course.

Then he started to talk about Don Kuzak. He said how Don had gotten and held the record for top sales. He also told us that the reorganization of records that he’d put into effect about two months before had been Don’s idea. That reorganization had been troublesome to learn, even if it did eventually cut each salesman’s record keeping time by a third. He mentioned a few other changes that had gone through in the past two years, and he said that they were all Don’s ideas.

I knew what was coming. I gritted my teeth and tried to wish it away, but I still heard it. “That’s why, with Mr. Brooks’ permission, I’m happy to announce that Don Kuzak is my replacement as head of Sales.” Then all those stupid sheep at the party began to clap. Don came up and shook Jack’s hand, and the two of them walked away with Mr. Brooks to talk in Jack’s office.

Jack and Don came back a few minutes later, and Jack began introducing Don to all his clients, including the ones that I’d invited to the party and that I’d been working on for the last few weeks. Don gave them each his card and promised to get back to them in a day or two. In the end, I only got about a third of them. Don got the rest.

After he settled into Jack’s office, Don gave up about half of his account list. He spread them out over the entire sales staff saying that he wanted to be fair. I got a few crumbs, of course. Don said that they were good accounts, but I knew better. I didn’t waste my time talking to them, and, sure enough, they all went to other salesmen. A few even dropped us completely. Don had the gall to yell at me for losing those accounts. He asked why I’d let other guys on the staff take over some of the accounts he’d given me.

I told him that I was busy servicing my regular accounts. Maybe my sales the last couple months had dropped some, but I was still well above quota and didn’t need him hassling me.

He had the nerve to ask if something was the matter, if I was having any sort of problem, and if there was anything he could do to help. “You can die,” I thought. Aloud, I said that things were just a little rough at the moment, but I expected to be okay. I actually had to thank him for offering, so he wouldn’t suspect what I really thought of him. It was humiliating, but I knew that I had to do it. I couldn’t have him on his guard, couldn’t have him watching me.


I found the Medallion of Zulo about a week later at a flea market. I’d gone looking for old cassette tapes. I collect tapes of artists of the 70s and 80s. There wasn’t anything really interesting at the few dealers selling tapes, so I decided to just look around. Sometimes, somebody will just rent a table to sell off junk from their attic or wherever, and they’ll have a tape or two among the stuff. Usually, they don’t know the value of what they have, and I’ve gotten some real bargains that way.

I saw the Medallion in a box with a bunch of junk jewelry. I’d heard about it for years. It has its own section on several of the urban legends web sites. Anyway, I recognized it at once; a gaudy looking brass disk with a picture of what I’d call a fairy inside a border of writing that I couldn’t read. Hell, the writing almost looked like it was just a mass of squiggles engraved to fill up the rest of the disk. Maybe it was, just some old artist’s idea of what Summarian or Urdu, or whatever fool language it was supposed to be looked like.

I had to buy it. Just like the legends said, it was cheap, $1.75. If it didn’t work, I was out next to nothing. I stopped at a table selling kid’s clothes and bought jeans, a sweatshirt, a T-shirt, and undershorts for a boy about twelve years old. I told the woman that I had a nephew coming for a visit and I wanted to have a set of spare clothes in case his mother didn’t pack enough. She sold me a pair of sneakers, too. I gave her all of $5. If the Medallion did work, I’d need them.

It worked!

I got home and locked my apartment door. I went into my bedroom and tossed the boy’s clothes on the bed. Then I put the chain that went with the Medallion around my neck and touched it to the boy’s jeans. My hand tingled when I did. The tingling spread through my body. A few minutes later, I noticed that my clothes were beginning to feel big on me. I undressed and walked over to the mirror on my bedroom door.

It was like watching one of those special effects on TV, only this was live. I got smaller and thinner. The belly I’d gotten from too many years as a couch potato vanished. My hair darkened from sandy brown to jet black and began to curl. My skin seemed to be getting a little darker, too. My eyes changed from hazel to brown, and my face got thinner with a longer, misshapen (probably broken) nose and a slightly pointy chin. I continued shrinking, growing younger. In a half hour, the reflection in the mirror showed a skinny boy about twelve years old of obvious Mediterranean ancestry instead of the middle aged Swede I normally saw.

I let out a whoop, surprised at my new voice. Whoever had worn the clothes last hadn’t quite finished going through puberty. My voice cracked a couple times. I remembered when I really was that age and how -- more than once -- I’d been mistaken for my late mother when I answered the phone.

I walked over to the bed and got dressed. I looked at my clock radio. It was about 2:15. I wouldn’t be able to use the Medallion to change back until well after Midnight. I went into the living room, stretched out on the sofa, and watched an afternoon of college football.

About 6, I grew hungry. I didn’t feel like cooking, so I called the local pizzeria. They didn’t recognize my voice and called back to confirm. When Eddie, their regular deliveryman came with the pizza, he didn’t recognize me. He almost wouldn’t give me the beer that I’d ordered! Fortunately, I’d been smart enough to order a Coke, also. I said the beer was for my uncle (my real self) and paid him. I even gave him a tip, something I don’t often do, because I was so happy that the Medallion worked.

I ate about a third of the pizza and put the rest away for later. Normally, I eat more, but for the time being, I had a smaller stomach. I also noticed that the beer tasted bitter to me. My new body just wasn’t used to alcohol. The beer hit me harder, too. A lot harder. I lie down on the sofa and fell asleep.

I awoke about a three in the morning. I went back into the bedroom and stripped off my clothes. This was the final test. I put the Medallion back on and touched it to the adult slacks that I’d put on the day before. I felt the tingling again, and, in a half hour, I was back in my original body.

Don Kuzak was mine!


I spent the rest of the weekend plotting my revenge.

There were so many possibilities. I could turn him into an infant or an old man, even an animal. I decided that I wanted to humiliate him, to not be punished for what I did, and to make some money at the same time. It took a while for the idea to come to me -- genius is never fast, but when it did, I knew that this was what I wanted.

I drove to Carver College the next weekend. It was about fifty miles away, and the football team was playing out of state, so I knew the campus would be somewhat deserted. I wandered around, waiting for just the right person. After about an hour, I saw him, a big brute of a man, about 6 foot two and well muscled, wearing a Carver T shirt.

“Excuse me,” I said, tapping him on the shoulder.

He looked down at me. “Yeah, what d’you want, mister?”

“Your shirt; my son’s a big Carver fan. He was in a car accident, and his Carver shirt was wrecked. I promised to get him another one, but the college store is closed.”

“Gee, that’s too bad.”

“I’ll give you $20 for your shirt.” The bastard smiled. He thought he had me over a barrel. In a way, he did, but I was willing to go a lot higher than the $35 I eventually paid for a $15 shirt. He didn’t know that. He also didn’t know that in a week or two, the FBI would be asking him a lot of questions about a crime that he didn’t commit. I hoped that he wouldn’t be lucky enough to have a good alibi.

About half way back home from Carver, I stopped at a large mall. I bought two packages of panties, a couple blouses, and a pair of girl’s jeans at a teen shop. I bought an extra large man’s sweat suit and a set of men’s sandals at another store. I made several purchases at the hardware store, chains, padlocks and such. Finally, I managed to buy an insulin kit at the pharmacy.

My mother had died about two years before, of a number of problems, including diabetes. I’d had to give her injections sometimes, and I still had her prescriptions among her papers. It was open ended, and this pharmacist didn’t know she was dead. I told him we were traveling, and I’d just discovered that I hadn’t packed a kit in case she needed it. I paid him extra, saying that I didn’t want the doctor to know that I’d been so careless. The fool took the extra $50 and sold me the kit. The kit came with a set of seven syringes.

Sunday, I used the Medallion and the T shirt to change into a double for that stupid jock. I drove out into the country and rented a hunting cabin about twenty miles from town for the rest of the season. It was perfect, nice and secluded with no way to tell where you were without walking a couple miles down a dirt road. I told the owner that I was going to be bringing my fiancé up now and again, so she could try her hand at country living. That got me a promise from the old goat who owned the place that nobody would bother us. I picked up some supplies and headed back to town. I also picked up a couple changes of clothes for this new body I was borrowing.

Now I was ready.


I had some sales calls to make the next Friday afternoon, meetings with a few of my regular customers and a cold call on one new possibility. Normally, if the meetings ran long, I wouldn’t go back to the office afterward. It was standard practice.

I made the meetings with my regulars. The cold call was a fake. I used the Medallion to change into the jock Tuesday evening and left a phone message for myself on the office voice mail asking for a meeting on Friday at a fake address. I did the same to a few of the others in the office using different addresses for each one. If anybody investigated, the most likely conclusion was that someone wanted to get us all out of the office.

I drove home and turned myself into the jock. I changed into his sweat suit and drove back to the office. All the gear I needed was already in a suitcase in my trunk. It was about 5:30, and, as I’d expected, Don was the only one there. The little suck-up liked to be the last one out at the end of the day. I locked the front door, so no one could surprise me, and went into his office. I drew a gun and told him to keep quiet. Then I had him sit still while I tied him to his chair.

Once he was tied down, I took the syringe from the suitcase and injected him with 25 CCS of a narcotic that the doctors had prescribed for my mother in the last days of her illness. I got the stuff the same way I got the insulin kit, another stop at another pharmacy outside of town. That doctor’s open ended prescription and a few dollars slipped to a pharmacist had gotten me all I’d need.

As soon as Don was asleep, I put the Medallion around his neck and touched it with the teenage girl’s panties. It was amazing to watch the changes as he shrank down within his male clothes. His brown hair grew out down past his shoulders, while his face softened and grew feminine. The five o’clock shadow that any man would have at the end of the day disappeared. His hands grew thin and the nails lengthened. Even though his clothes were much too big, I could see breasts pushing out the front of his shirt.

In a half hour the change was finished. Since no one had every worn the clothes before, Don now had the body he would have had if he had been born a female. Only it was her body as it would have been in her teens, instead of as an adult. Actually, much as I hated to admit it, the little S.O.B. looked rather cute.

I checked to see if he was still unconscious from the drug. He was. I untied him, catching him as he slumped over in the chair. Then I undressed him, and put his male clothes in the suitcase. He definitely made a pretty girl. Her breasts were small but firm, the waist narrow, and the hips wide. He had long legs with a feminine curve that would look good in heels. The most amazing thing for me was that his male “equipment” was gone, replaced by the familiar female slit surrounded by a small mass of fuzzy brown hair.

I put his legs into the panties and pulled them up around his waist. Then I stuck his arms through the sleeves of a blouse and pulled it down over his head. His new breasts pushed out the front of the blouse, and I could see the nipples against the pattern of the fabric. I pulled the pair of jeans up onto his legs and buttoned them. He certainly had a narrow waist, now.

The shoes took a little time. I’d had to guess at the size, and they were a little small at first. But he still had the Medallion around his neck. When touched the Medallion to the shoes, his feet shrank down a size, and the shoes fit perfectly.

I took the Medallion off Don and put it, the syringe kit, and the rope back in the suitcase. Then I pinned the ransom note to his chair. I’d pasted the note together a few nights before, while I was in the jock’s body. His would be the only fingerprints on it. I hope the smug bastard put that $35 he got for that T-shirt to good use. He wasn’t going to be enjoying things for some time.

I picked up Don and half threw him over my shoulder. Between his new, smaller body and the jock’s strength, I could manage him one handed. I picked up the suitcase and headed out the door. In five minutes, we were on our way. Don was sleeping soundly in the back seat. I stopped about a mile from the office and used a pay phone to report a robbery at the office. Another bit of evidence against the jock, since the police now had his voice on tape, a voice that sounded nothing like my own, I should add. I circled back past the office about twenty minutes later. There were two police cars in the parking lot.

I made it to the cabin without any trouble. The dose I gave Don was going to last him a couple of hours more at least, but I wanted to be ready for the surprise when he -- or should I say she, now -- woke up. I took her in and laid her down on the bed. I took off her shoes and pants. I fastened a leather cuff to her each ankle and wrist, using a small but sturdy lock to hold the cuff in place. Then I attached a chain to the cuff on her right ankle. The other end of the chain was attached to the bed frame. Just to slow her down, I used another chain on the cuff around her left wrist.

If I took off the wrist cuff, she could get out of bed to walk around or go to the small bathroom, but that was all. The window in the room was just beyond the reach of the chain. A shutter across the bottom kept her from seeing -- or being seen by -- anyone walking nearby. The door to the main room was also beyond reach. In fact, after I rearranged some of the furniture, there was nothing really within reach of the chain.

With the wrist cuff on, she’d be stuck in the bed. It would be a last resort to threaten her with, if I wanted to put a little extra fear into her.

I went into the main room and nuked myself some supper. After I ate, I took a folding chair into the bedroom and waited for the fun to start.

I didn’t have too long to wait. She woke up about ten minutes after I sat down.

“Who are you, and what the hell did you do to me,” she asked, opening her eyes. She tried to move her arms and felt the cuff around her wrist. “What the hell? Why am I chained?”

I smiled. “I didn’t want you over reacting,” I said. “As to who I am, call me Bob. As to what I did, take a close look for yourself.”

She looked down and stared at her new body. “Breasts! I I’ve got breasts!”

“Of course you do, Ms. Kuzak. All girls do.”

“Girls, but I’m not a girl.”

“No? Take a good look at yourself. Touch your tits. See how good it feels. Then you can reach down and see how wet it makes your new pussy. Yes, you’ve got one of those, too.”

“This -- this is impossible.”

“Not really Donna. Yes, that’s your name for the time being. I won’t tell you how I did it, but I will tell you why. I’ve kidnapped you, and I’m holding you for ransom. Cooperate and when the money comes, you get your old body back. Try anything funny, and you go back to Vartex Corporation as a teenage girl.”

“You’re crazy. Why kidnap me?”

“Why not? The police know you’ve been kidnapped, so does the press. I don’t like Vartex, and the company will look real bad if it doesn’t pay a measly 100 thousand to get back one of its people. If it does pay, well, I can always use the money for even more mischief.”

“They’ll come looking for me.”

“That’s right. They’ll come looking for a man in his late twenties. Why should they be interested in a girl in her teens? And in case you think otherwise, my appearance is as real -- or as unreal as your own. I’ll be changing myself back later whatever happens to you.”

Don thought about that for a minute. She had no way changing back if she didn’t cooperate. She looked down at her pretty new body and frowned. “Can you at least untie my wrists?”

“Later -- maybe. In the meantime, here’s something else to think about.” I reached down and began to play with her breasts, kneading them like dough.

“No, stop it! Let me alone!” She tried to bat away my hand, but I was too strong for her and kept on playing with her breasts.

“I just wanted to prove that what you see is real... Donna.”

I stuck a finger out and started playing with her nipples. I could see from the expression on her face that I was getting to her. My ex-wife used to say that I had a definite talent for foreplay. She said it was one of the few things she really liked about me. It must not have been enough since we were only married a couple years before the bitch divorced me. It took some doing on the part of my lawyer -- he charged me enough for it -- but he managed to prove she’d been fooling around, and I got out without any alimony payment.

Don was still telling me to stop, but her voice was getting funny, kind of breathy. She was shaking her head and twisting her body to try to get away from me. At least, it seemed like she wanted to get away. I decided that I’d had enough fun. “Think about that for a while, Donna.” I headed for the door, but I turned back towards her just before I went out. “We’ll have time for all sorts of fun.” I turned out the light and shut the door behind me.


A few hours later, I was asleep on the couch in the living room. It wasn’t as comfortable as the bed would have been, but I wanted Don alone in that back room. Besides, the couch was wide and fairly comfortable. Suddenly, Don woke me up; she was screaming for help.

I ran into the bedroom and turned on the light. We both blinked at its sudden brightness. “There’s no use shouting. There’s nobody around but me to hear.”

“I need to be unchained.”

“Why should I do that?”

“I just need to...” She hesitated a moment. “Please.”

“Why should I?”

“I have... I have to go to the bathroom.”

I’d suspected as much. That was why I’d chained her; so she’d have to ask to go. The squirming around would remind her of the changes to her body, and having to ask would remind her who was in charge. I smiled and watched her.

It would have been tempting to just make her pee in the bed. I’d read someplace that the technique was used to break spies. It would certainly humiliate her. But it would also smell, and I’d -- no, she’d -- have to change the bed linen. Serve her right, too. But I had other plans.

I went into the other room and took the keys from where I’d hidden them. I went back in and told her to lie face down on the bed. She flopped over. That put her arm across her back, since the chain wasn’t long enough to hold it any other way. I unlocked the chain from the cuff and fastened it to the bed frame for later. I stood up and stepped back from the bed.

“Okay, you can go.”

“What about the chain on my ankle?”

“What about it? It’s long enough that you can reach the john. It stays on.”

She started to argue, but the need to pee was getting stronger. Girls aren’t built to hold it like guys are. She glared at me then headed to the bathroom.

“Remember to sit down,” I said as she went in.

She glared again, but then she reached down to her panties. Then she stopped. “Hey, there’s no door. What about some privacy?”

“What about it? Why do you want it, Ms Kuzak?”

“Damn you to hell,” she said. She pulled down the panties and sat on the pot. I noticed that she was holding her hands demurely on her lap as if trying to hide her new “equipment”. I just leaned back against the door frame and watched.

After a minute or so, she seemed to be finished and started to stand up. “Don’t forget to wipe,” I said. “You wouldn’t want it to get all smelly.” She glared at me again, but she wadded up some paper and delicately wiped at her crotch. She stood up, pulled the panties quickly back up, and headed back towards the bed.

As she walked past me, I reached down and stroked her butt with a finger. She jumped about a foot and turned to slap me. I was ready for her and grabbed her hand. I put my other arm around her waist and pulled her towards me. She opened her mouth to say something, and I French kissed her. I felt her breasts against my chest, and it felt like the nipples were pushing out. That got me a little hot, and I ground my erect penis against the front of her panties.

She panicked and pushed herself away from me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Kissing a pretty girl.”

“I’m not a girl, dammit! I’m a man.”

“Reach down and feel around for your prick, Donna. Find it, and I’ll believe you’re a man.”


“And you’re a bitch. A guy would have tried to slug me when I grabbed his bottom. You tried to slap me. Slapping is how a girl reacts. Think about that for a while.” I waited till she made it to the bed, then turned out the light and left. I didn’t bother to put the chain back on her wrist. She couldn’t get away, and thinking about how she’d just behaved, what she’d just done would keep her too busy and too confused to try anything.

I lay back on the couch and threw the cover over myself. In the dark, I thought I could hear Don talking softly to herself. Then I realized that she was crying softly, trying not to let me hear. I fell asleep on that happy thought.


I woke up about 8 the next morning. Don was still sleeping when I looked in on her. She was sprawled across the bed with her T-shirt half way up to her breasts and her legs spread wide apart. It was quite sexy, actually, and I felt myself getting a bit aroused. I crept into the room and quickly reattached the chain to the cuff on her left wrist. Then as she was waking up, I fastened chains to the cuffs around her other wrist and her left ankle.

She awoke to find herself spread eagle on the bed with me staring down at her. “Good morning, Ms Kuzak.”

“Good morning, Bastard!”

“Now is that any way to act?”

“What do you expect after doing this to me?”

“Actually, I was thinking of doing a lot more to you.” I reached down with one hand and began to rub her breast in a slow pattern that always drove my slut of an ex-wife crazy. As I rubbed, I reached out with a finger and began to play with her nipple.

“Stop that, you perverted S.O.B.” She began to struggle on the bed. The chains gave her some movement, but not a lot. I was able to keep on working at her breast.

“Maybe this will help.” I ran the index finger of the other hand slowly up her thigh, gently touching the skin with my nail. I could see goose bumps forming on her flesh.

“Stop it,” she screamed, struggling harder. Her breathing was getting irregular.

My finger reached her groin. I moved my nail slowly along the material of the panty, outlining shape of her vaginal lips. Her voice rose in pitch, and she began to have trouble with the words. I switched breasts, doing to her left breast what I had done to the right. I could feel her nipple getting larger, standing up from her breast. The material of her panty began to moisten.

“Isn’t this fun, Donna? Are you enjoying yourself, or should I stop?”

“Stop... stop... oh, please... uh... stop.”

I ignored her and moved aside the fabric of the panty. Then I began rubbing my finger against her bare skin, paying special attention to her clitoris. Her hips began to move to match the motion of my fingers. She was just making vague sounds now, rather than speaking words.

“I said, do you want me to stop?”

“Stop... stop... ohh... no, don’t stop... don’t stop!”

I plunged my fingers into her, caressing the tissues of her female core. Then I pulled them out. Her hips rose as if trying to keep me inside. I felt her muscles contract as well. I pushed my fingers back in, then out, falling into a steady rhythm. Her hips rose and fell to match them. Then she suddenly froze, her hips raised up in the air. Her eyes opened wide, and she let out a yell of pure female pleasure.

She began to buck and writhe on the bed. I pulled my hand away. She stopped moving and looked up at me. Her hair was snarled, her body drenched with sweat.

“What... what’s the matter? Why did you stop?”

“Oh, I was just wondering how Don Kuzak was enjoying his first female orgasm.” I smiled and walked out of the room. “Think about that for a bit, Donny boy.”

I washed my hands and began fixing myself breakfast to an accompaniment of female profanity from the bedroom. While I ate, the cursing settled into crying, as the realization set in. Don Kuzak had always thought of himself as a stud. I’d spend many dull hours listening to him regaling the office with stories of this or that female conquest and pretending, like the other toadies, to be impressed. Now, in that bedroom, Don Kuzak had been treated like a female, and, worst of all to his own puny ego, he’d responded like one. He’d actually begged to have his new body played with!

It was going to be easier than I thought. And a lot more fun.


It went on like that for the next couple of days.

I kept Don chained most of the time, only unchaining her to go to the bathroom. Since my borrowed jock’s body was a lot bigger than her new one, I had little trouble forcing her back onto the bed and re chaining her.

She only rebelled once and tried to fight me. She wound up on the floor on her back with her legs spread apart, and me lying on top of her. I was holding both her wrists in my left hand. I reached down with my right and touched her breast. “As long as we’re in this position,” I said with a lecherous smile, “we might as well enjoy ourselves.”

“No,” she screamed, her eyes getting very big. She struggled but couldn’t break free.

“Then, will you behave yourself and get onto the bed?”

“Do you promise not to do anything besides hook up the chains?”

“I promise.” I let go of her wrists and quickly stood up.

She got up slowly, head bowed in defeat. As she sat down on the bed, she said, “Remember, you promised. You won’t try anything else.”

“I promise.” I attached the chain to her two wrist cuffs. “I won’t do anything else; just chain you down.” While I was attaching it to the other ankle cuff, I grinned and added, “This time.”

She struggled against the chains, but it was too late. As I left the room, she began to cry.

I was having such fun!


I won’t say that I wasn’t tempted. I was in the body of a healthy male, about twenty years old. Don was a rather pretty girl of about sixteen with a full set of very feminine curves. She was chained to a bed wearing only a T-shirt and panties, while I used various techniques to bring her to orgasm. I was “doing” her two or three times a day; and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to leaving the room almost every time with a raging hard on.

Why didn’t I just give in and rape her? Because I could. And because she knew that I could. And most of all, because I wanted her to think about the fact that I could. Watching her think about it, worry about it, was part of the fun.

So was listening to the radio.

The story got out almost immediately. I’d deliberately not told the police to keep the media out of the case. Since they had no way of finding me, I wasn’t particularly worried. And the news coverage would let me know what was happening.

The closest they got was tracking down that jock whose body I’d “borrowed”. It was the lead item on the news on the second day. Luckily for him, he had an airtight alibi. He was in some late class that let out at 5:30 that day. I’d called the cops to get them to the office just before 6 PM. There was just no way he could have gotten to the office in time to kidnap Kuzak. Of course, he couldn’t explain how his fingerprints got on the note or on the furniture in the office. Still, he had almost thirty eyewitnesses, all of whom knew him, and one of whom was described as “a highly respected academic”, a man who swore that the jock was fifty miles at the time. “A highly respected academic”, ha! Some geek teacher is more like it, but it was an alibi.

The last item on the news that night was a story by a new reporter, Mike Mellish.

There was no Mike Mellish. His name was the signal that the police were willing to go along with my instructions on how to get me the ransom money. The instructions were part of the ransom note that I’d left when I took Kuzak.


I waited until a couple of hours after dinner.

I walked into the bedroom and stood over Kuzak. “Well, it looks like they’ve decided that you’re worth $100,000. I’ll be picking the money up tomorrow.”

“You’ll never get away with it.”

“Who’s going to identify me? Who’s going to identify you, for that matter, if I decide not to change you back?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Sure, I would. Once I have the money, why should I even come back for you? I can just tell them where to find you and go back to my own life. They’ll rescue you, but you get to stay younger and a lot prettier than you were before.”

“No, please. Change me back before you go for the money.”

“Nope, you’re my last bargaining chip. If I get caught, I can trade changing you back for my freedom.” I paused for a second. “Unless you’ve decided that you like being a girl.”

“Like it; in a pig’s eye!”

“Gee, you’ve seemed to enjoy it enough when I did this.” I reached down and began to play with her nipple.

“Get away from me, you bastard!”

“Or this.” I started cupping her other breast. I could feel her body beginning to react in spite of itself. I slid one finer slowly around her breast, then down to her stomach, touching her only with the pressure of my nail. I spent a little time circling around her navel, before I continued on down to her groin.

Kuzak started off cursing at me, but when I didn’t stop, her body began to react. She began to beg me not to go any further. Some girls never learned. I enjoyed hearing her beg.

I kept it up using a couple of tricks I knew, until Kuzak’s hips were jerking about, and her panties were definitely moist. I, in the meantime, had gotten hard as nails. I took my hands away. She looked up and saw me unbuckling my pants. “You wouldn’t,” she said, her eyes getting wide as panic began to set in.

“Sure I would.” I let my pants fall to the floor. My borrowed prick was pushing out my shorts. From the way she looked at it, it must have looked two feet long. I reached over and grabbed at her panties. One quick yank and they ripped apart. I tossed them across the room.

Kuzak was naked from the waist down. She tried to move her legs together to block access, but the chains were too short. I leaned over her and began rubbing her nipple between the thumb and finger of my left hand. My right hand slid along her upper thigh, the fingers barely touching her flesh, just enough to tickle.

Her breathing was getting more ragged now. My hand moved to her groin. Now I was tickling her nether lips. I could see them moving a little in response. I saw a trickle of moisture leaking out between them. She was more than ready.

I climbed onto the bed, positioning myself between her legs. She was screaming now. “No, no!” and “Rape!” No one could hear her, though, and the screams just added to my fun.

I yanked down my shorts and took hold of my prick. Then I leaned forward and guided myself in. She tried to squirm away, so I just lay down on top of her, pinning her with my weight. My, but she was ready, all nice and wet. I slid right in.
I pushed in as far as I could, then out, then back in. I set up a nice steady rhythm. She was fighting me, but she was fighting her body, too. Her hips began to rise as I pulled out.

She didn’t want to, maybe she didn’t even realize that she was doing it, but in a moment, she was matching me stroke for stroke. Her legs moved up, trying to wrap around me. The chains wouldn’t let them, but she tried as best she could.

She was still yelling, but now it was mostly moans. Her arms were flailing. Then she grabbed onto the bedposts and held on for dear life. Suddenly her head shot up and she kissed me. Ha!

Don Kuzak, macho stud, kissed me for raping him. She must have realized what she’d done because she tried to pull her head away. I reached my arm around her and pulled her head back near mine. She started to say something. I kissed her again and stuck my tongue into her mouth. She fought for a minute. Then she surrendered and let me have my fun.

I was still pumping away. This kid’s body was young and strong, but it couldn’t last forever. I felt something build inside of me. The feeling got better and better, and then it seemed to shoot out of my prick like liquid fire. I froze, arching my back and pulling my mouth away from hers.

That must have set her off, too. She screamed and began to claw at my back. Her hips bucked wildly. Then she just went limp and collapsed back onto the bed with me on top of her.

I felt my prick began to soften. It felt great just laying there on top of her. She was probably enjoying it, too, and that was reason enough to stop. I let myself slide out of her body and climbed off the bed. Her breathing was still deep, but it was a lot more regular. She looked at me kind of glassy eyed with a sort of lopsided smile on her face. She had definitely enjoyed it.

“You’re a damn good fuck, Don, I said. She stopped smiling at the reminder of who she truly was. I decided to really rub it in. “How are you at sucking cock?”

I felt that I already knew the answer. That was how, figuratively if not literally, he had stolen the job that I should have had. Now I wanted to see if I was right.

“No,” she said. “No way am I going to do something like that.”

“Oh, sure you will. After what we just did, it’s not that big a deal.” I paused to give her another chance to think about what we just had done. “Besides, you do want to be changed back, don’t you?”

“You said that you'd change me back after you got your damn money.”

“And you believed me? Oh, Donny. I’ll decide when -- and if -- I’ll change you back. How you behave now may well affect that decision. So, let’s just see how cooperative you can be.”

I propped up the pillow behind her head and climbed back on the bed. My lower legs were on both sides of her, my knees just below her armpits.

“No,” she said, shaking her head back and forth.

I grabbed her hair close by the scalp and yanked. That got her attention. “Yes, you will, Bitch! Now get started or I get a lot rougher.”

I leaned forward, and she raised her head. Her mouth was only a few inches away from my prick when I yanked her hair again. “And if you try anything funny -- like biting, for instance -- I’m leaving. Nobody else knows where you are, and I may not tell anyone either. So be very careful. A woman chained to a bed -- half naked in a deserted cabin -- with the door wide open. Why anything could happen to her.”

Kuzak’s eyes opened wide. She stared into mine trying to see if I was serious. Her mouth opened in horror trying to say something. Then she looked down to see my prick just inches from her mouth. “You... you aren’t serious about this?”

“The hell I’m not.”

“But, I can’t. I’m a man.”

I leaned back and grabbed one of her breasts. “This doesn’t feel like a man”. My hand moved down from her breasts, past her stomach to her groin. I rubbed a finger around the edges of her pussy. “And this certainly doesn’t.”


I slapped her face. “But nothing; get started.”

She leaned her head forward and very tentatively touched the tip of my prick with her lips. She pulled her head back a little. “I don’t... I don’t know what to do.” She was crying. This was definitely going to be fun.

“Listen, Bitch! Did you ever had a blow job, back when you were a man?”

“Yes? A few times, in fact.”

“You remember what you liked the girl -- I assume it was a girl -- what you liked them doing to you?”

“Yes, I-I guess I do?”

“Then you’re going to do that same stuff to me?”

She leaned her head forward again and gently kissed the tip. She stuck out her tongue and ran it around the underside, moving down towards my balls. She slid her tongue along them, and then took them into her mouth and sucked them. After which, she moved back up my prick with her tongue.

She was very good, and I was hard as a rock. The fact that she had a look of pure revulsion on her face the entire time only added to my pleasure. She was crying, too. Tears were running down her cheeks and onto me the whole time.

When she reached the tip again, she opened her mouth and slowly took me into her. As my prick slid in, she licked at it with her tongue. She managed to get me all the way in, moving down in, until her nose was pressed up against my groin. Then she began to draw back. It was too much, and I hunched forward. She matched my rhythm. To encourage her, I reached down and began to play with her nipples. She began to moan. I was literally fucking her face.

It was fun, but nothing lasts forever. I let loose with a great spout of cum. “Swallow it,” I yelled. “Swallow it all.”
She tried. I could feel her sucking at me, trying to keep in all the sperm. She got most of it, though a little did dribble out. I felt myself getting limp and pulled out. She shut her mouth at once, desperate not to let any leak out. She had a panicky look in her idea, uncertain what I would do next.

“Now lick it clean,” I said. I wanted the humiliation to continue. Besides, I was feeling a little shaky from that powerful cumming and wanted to rest for a minute.

She shook her head “No!”, so I slapped her again. She whimpered and began to lick. When she was done, I climbed off.

“Please,” she said. “Could I have a glass of water?”

“What’s the matter, Bitch? Don’t you like the taste?”

“No -- I mean -- I’m just thirsty after all that.”

“Get used to it,” I said. I turned out the light and left the room.

She cried for quite a while.


I came back into the room a few hours later. It was almost Midnight. I’d waited until her crying had stopped, and I could hear snoring. I stood by the bed and watched her for a few moments just to make sure she was asleep.

It was quite a fetching picture: this nubile young woman lying there, her legs apart displaying that juicy pussy, her breasts peeking out from beneath the mostly unbuttoned shirt. I felt myself get hard again. It was tempting to wake her for a repeat performance, but I was on a very tight schedule.

I rubbed an alcohol swab against her hip. She stirred a little from the sensation of contact. I quickly took the plastic protector off the syringe and jabbed it into her. Her eyelids fluttered, and she moved in reaction to the sudden pain. But the narcotic was a fast acting one. Her breathing became regular. She would sleep for about eight hours from this drug.

I went back into the other room and took two suitcases out of the closet. I opened the one that I had used at the office on Friday and took out the Medallion. I put it on the table, and closed the suitcase. From the other suitcase, I took the young boy’s shirt and laid it down next to the Medallion. I put the Medallion around my neck and picked up the shirt, touching it to the Medallion. I felt a tingling in my hand almost immediately. Within the half hour, I had once again become that twelve year old.

I stripped out of my now oversized clothing and dressed in his undershorts and T-shirt. It was late, just past Midnight now. I lay down on the couch and went to sleep. Tomorrow would be a long day.


I got up about 7:30. I was disoriented for a moment, until I remembered that I was now in the body of a twelve year old. The room looked much bigger, and, I must admit, I felt nervous for the first time since I had begun to take my revenge.

I refilled the syringe and quietly opened the door to Kuzak’s room. I had to be careful now. She was chained, but she was still bigger and possibly stronger than I was in this form. She was just as naked and just as exposed as she’d been the night before, but now I found that I wasn’t aroused. At least, not physically. Evidently the boy whose form I was wearing hadn’t gone through puberty yet. I could appreciate her body intellectually, but my body wasn’t able to respond to what I saw.

Luck goes with those who prepare. She was still asleep. I injected her a second time. Combined with the drugs already in her system, there was now enough in her to keep her out until 3 PM, possibly later. I expected to be back well before then. My plan was to keep her sedated until I could use the Medallion to change back to the jock. With luck, she’d never realize that she’d lost a whole day. It would be a lot easier than trying to manage her in either of the forms that I would have that day.

I went back to the other room and ate breakfast. I listened to the radio for a while, and then dressed in the boy’s clothes. Just after the 11 o’clock news, I got the Medallion from the suitcase and put it around my neck, tucking it between my sweatshirt and my T-shirt. I also took a second pair of girl’s panties from the suitcase. I stuck them in a small plastic bag and put them in my pocket. I already had a pocket knife and some ribbon in the pocket.

Now I was ready. I went out to my rented car. I had to adjust the seat so my feet could reach the pedals. I’d lost over a foot in height with the change of bodies. But I was ready. I started the car and drove carefully towards town.

The money was supposed to be waiting in a gym bag stuffed into a trash can in Hudson Park. I told them to put it in the third can near the baseball field. The area was fairly opened, so I could see if anybody was waiting. At least, that’s what they probably thought. Actually, it was because it would be natural for a young boy to be hanging out there. I expected the location to be watched, but they wouldn’t be expecting a twelve year old.

I was almost to the park when I heard a siren behind me. The police! This was the one weak spot in my plan. I was far too young to be driving in this body, but I hadn’t wanted to go as the jock. They had his picture.

I pulled over, hoping that he would pass me. He didn’t. He pulled over in front of me. Well, maybe I could brazen it out. Kids do go joyriding on occasion.

Two officers got out of the car. Something was the matter. I fought the urge to try to run. The taller man came over to the driver’s window, while the other stood a few feet away looking like he wanted an excuse to draw his gun.

“Please step out of the car, umm, sir.”

This was definitely more than a ticket. “Is something the matter, officer?”

“How old are you, son?”

I decided to try for innocence, “Umm, ah, sixteen, sir.”

“A very young sixteen, I’d say.”

“Do you know who owns this car?”

“It’s my Dad’s.”

“Son, this is a rental car. There’s a tag that says so on the license plate. More important, it’s been identified as the car involved in a major crime.”


“Can you tell me where you got it?”

“I, umm, took it ” I was in deep trouble. If I said anything they would probably take me to wherever I said I’d found the car. I could probably expect to be held for several hours, while they tried to contact my parents. What they’d do after they found out that I didn’t have parents -- or any other record as a twelve year old -- was anybody’s guess.

I decided to make a run for it, hoping I could get a head start if I could take them by surprise. I dodged between the cop and the car and ran as fast as I could. The two cops chased after me.

The body I was using was young and fairly fast, but they were faster with their longer legs and adult endurance. I ducked through a hedge that they were too big to manage. I was in a semi-residential neighborhood near the park, row homes and some light industry. I ran across a parking lot towards an open door in a warehouse. I ducked inside and closed the door behind me.

I was in a room filled with rows and rows of shipping crates. There was nobody around. It was time for a change. I pulled off my sweatshirt and tossed it into a covered trash can.

I saw the sign for a women’s bathroom. I ran towards it. As I did, I stuck my hand in my pocket and pulled out the girl’s panties. I rubbed them frantically against the Medallion, and then I jammed them back into my pocket. My body was tingling by the time I was in the bathroom. I went into one of the two stalls, pulled down my jeans, and sat down.

The two cops knocked on the door about ten minutes after I had gotten into the stall. When there was no answer, they came in. They saw my legs under the stall door. “Police officers; excuse me, ma’am, but have you seen or heard anybody else come in here?”

The moment of truth. “No, officer.” It was a risk, but I had to answer. Luck was still with me. I’d changed enough that my voice didn’t sound at all like the boy I had been. “Now would you please just leave?”

“Sorry to have bothered you.” I heard the door shut behind me. I let out a breath and sat back to watch the rest of the change.

It was not fun watching. Yes, I grew taller, going from twelve to sixteen, but I was growing up into a girl’s body. I watched breasts blossom on my chest, while my hips widened, and my legs grew long and shapely. What was between those legs shrank away, even as my balls disappeared and a slit opened to absorb my new clitoris.

I expected my skin to lighten from the boy’s Mediterranean tones to the paleness of my Swedish ancestors. It didn’t, which surprised me. My hair was a lot longer than it was when I was the boy, but I was still in his body -- sort of. It was the body that he would have had if he had been born a girl sixteen years before.

During the last of the changes, I took the other things from my pocket. The ribbon went around my hair, holding it in a crude pony tail. The knife cut the jeans off just above the knees. I switched the girl’s panties for the boy’s undershorts. The panties fit me perfectly. They had reshaped me to fit them, and the boy’s shorts were far too tight for my now girlish figure.

I got out of the stall as soon as the tingling stopped. I looked at myself in the mirror. I still looked a lot like him, but my face was softer with a rounder chin and smaller nose. My figure, I had to admit was also pretty good; better than Kuzak’s. The only uncomfortable part was the way my nipples felt rubbing against the fabric of my T-shirt. I reminded myself of the way the young Sofia Loren looked in that movie she made about the statue of the dolphin.

I stuck the boy’s shorts and the bottoms of my jeans way down in among the papers in a trash can. The knife went back into my pocket. I smiled at the girl in the mirror and fixed the hair ribbon. Then I headed out the door.

I looked around. The cops were long gone, but I heard somebody yell something. I froze in my tracks, and began to slowly walk towards the warehouse door. I didn’t want to look suspicious by running away.

I felt somebody grab my arm and turned. It was a security cop for the warehouse, a tall muscular man about forty. He looked mad. “I’ve told you kids I didn’t want you coming in here. Come with me.” He dragged me by the arm to a small office. “Get inside and no lip.”

I didn’t really have a choice. I’m not sure that I could have stood up to him in the jock’s body. What chance did I have as a slip of a girl? I went inside. He followed me in, and then turned and locked the door behind me. There were a couple of folder chairs near a desk covered with papers. He motioned for me to sit. I took the one closest to where I was standing.

“Okay, I’m calling your parents. What’s their number?”

What could I say? If I made up a number, he’d try it and know I was faking. “I... umm... they don’t live around here.”

“Oh, a runaway. All right then.” He dialed a number. “Hello, Children’s Services. This is Jack McCall at the Kendrick Warehouses, 527 Oak Street. I’ve got a girl here about 16. She says she’s a runaway. Can you -- you’ll send a car. Okay, I’ll see you in about a half an hour.”

He sat down in the chair opposite me. “You know, I’ve got a daughter about 12 at home. She’s a pretty thing like you. I’d be at my wits end if she ran off. Do you want to call your folks while we wait?”

“No.” This idiot thought he was doing me a favor. If he’d just leave, I could get out. Even if I had to walk back to the cabin, it would be better than this nonsense.

“You sure? I’ll bet they’ll be glad to hear from you.”

I decided to say what he expected to hear. “I have nothing to say to them.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. What’s your name, by the way?”

“Sarah.” It was my Mother’s name. The first one I could think of.

“Sarah. That’s a pretty name. Sarah what?”

I was beginning to get mad. ‘Leave me alone, you imbecile,’ I thought. Aloud, I said, “Sarah, just Sarah, okay?”

“Okay, Sarah Just Sarah.” He moved the chair over behind the desk and opened a log book. He looked up and the clock for a minute and began writing. Just what I needed, now there would be a record of this whole stupid experience. I slumped down in the chair and tried to decide what to do next.

About a half hour later the phone rang. “McCall; yeah, I called her. I found a kid over here in Warehouse 3. Send her on back.”

A few minutes later, a rather nondescript looking woman in a brown coat knocked on the office door. “Mr. McCall,” she said through the door, “I’m Judy Hemmings from Children’s Services.

He walked over and unlocked the door. “Hello, Ms. Hemmings.” He pointed to me. “This is Sarah Just Sarah.”

The Hemmings woman smiled. “Hello, Sarah, I’m Judy Hemmings. Would you like to come with me?”

“Not really.”

“Well, actually, you don’t have much of a choice.” She took my wrist. I tried to pull free, but I couldn’t. She didn’t look very big, but she seemed to be as strong as McCall. Or maybe it was me that was so weak. I shrugged and stood up.

“Here’s my card, Mr. McCall. I’ll be speaking to you later. Right now, I just want to get Sarah to Drexler Hall.”

Drexler Hall! I was being put in the County Juvenile Home!

I was definitely stuck, thanks to Bozo the Guard. The Hemmings bitch lead me out to her car and had me get in the back seat. I didn’t realize, until she shut the door, that there were no handles on the inside. There was a sheet of Plexiglas between the front and back seats. I was trapped.

I sat in silence, while she got in and started the car. “Would you like to tell me your last name, Sarah?” she asked. “We’ll find it out eventually, you know.”

“No.” I’d decided that I’d need some sort of reason for not cooperating. “They don’t want to hear from me anyway.” I figured getting a little sympathy wouldn’t hurt. She’d never guess the real reason, that I was an adult male changed by the Medallion I was wearing. With luck, I’d be out of there as soon as I could use it to swap bodies with someone else.

“Suit yourself. Ah, here we are.” The car slowed, and then turned up a driveway.

I’d driven past Drexler Hall any number of times. It was three or four old brick buildings inside a high wrought iron fence. A few years ago, they put barbed wire on the top of the fence. I don’t think it was to keep people from sneaking in. It didn’t look any more inviting from the inside.

Hemmings pulled up in front of one of the buildings, a weathered old brick two story with the words “Administration” on a sign by the steps. She opened the back door and led me into the building, still holding my arm. We walked down a hall to an office with her name on the door.

We went in. I sat in a chair, while she went behind the desk and took out a form. I could see the words “Intake Interview Form” at the top. Time to lie.

“Name?” she asked.


“Full name?”


“Sarah Doe, for the time being. Okay, Sarah, how old are you?”


“Date of Birth?”

I gave my own birthday, doing the subtraction mentally for the year, “May 9, 1997.”

“Place of birth you wouldn’t want to tell me that, would you?”

“No, I wouldn’t.” Now was the time to try for some sympathy. “Look, ma’am, I’m sorry, but if I tell you who I am, you’ll send me back. I -- I don’t want to -- I won’t go back.”

Hemmings reached across the desk and patted me on the arm. “Okay, you don’t have to tell if you don’t want to, but it would help if you could at least be a little less suspicious of everyone.”

“I’ll try. What else do you want to ask?” It had worked. I faked a brave little smile.

“There’s really not that much more.” She made a few entries; height, eye color, that sort of thing. “Now we take you down to hall to Dr. Desai for a physical.”

Dr. Desai turned out to be a small Asian woman in a white lab coat. We went into a doctor’s examining room attached to her office. She pointed to a curtained off area in a corner of the room. “Please to go behind and remove clothing. Leave panty on for now.”

I stripped, draping my jeans on a stool. It still seemed strange to be seeing this girl’s body instead of my own. I was a little turned on by it, and I wouldn’t have mind playing with myself a little. ‘Maybe later,’ I thought. I noticed that my nipples were getting erect. I hoped that Desai would think it was from the cold. I mean, who gets turned on by their own body?

Hemmings talked to Desai while I was behind the counter. She spoke in a low voice, but I could still hear most of it. “This one’s a runaway,” she said. “Look for signs of abuse, but be careful. She’s got an attitude about something.”

‘Of course I have an attitude, you stupid bitch,’ I thought. My plan’s ruined and I’ve got to get back to the cabin and figure out what to do next.’ I was just about to go out when I remembered the Medallion. For all I knew, Desai might recognize it. I quickly hid it in a pocket of my jeans.

Desai gave me a fairly complete physical. She even put me up on a set of stirrups for a gynecologic exam. That was an experience! To actually feel something entering my body like that. She smiled during that part. “I see you are still virgin. Congratulations.”

I was getting dressed when she reached through the curtain and handed me a white plastic bag, a towel, and a bar of some kind of purple soap. “Flea bites,” she explained. “You take shower, while we do clothes. Put them in that bag when you strip for shower.”

Fleas! I must have been bitten during the night after I changed into the Italian kid. That bastard of a landlord didn’t say anything when I rented the cottage. I wondered why the bites hadn’t disappeared when I changed into Sarah. Then I realized that the Medallion hadn’t changed me to look like somebody else, just turned me from a 12 year old boy to his 16 year old counterpart. Since I had sort of kept the same body, it hadn’t healed the bites that were already there.

Desai called Hemmings while I’d gotten dressed, and she came for me just as I walked out from behind the curtain. “Find anything?”

“No bruises, no sign of sexual molesting. Some flea bites, though. I give her disinfectant soap for shower.”

“Fleas, eh? From home or from where you were staying? Never mind, you probably wouldn’t tell me either way, would you?”

“No, ma’am, I wouldn’t.” I was actually beginning to like this woman. No, I think that I had just figured out how best to manipulate her.

She took me down the hall to a set of doors that connected this building to the others. “I’ve got you signed in as Sarah Doe. You’ll stay here for a while till I figure out what to do with you.” We went through another set of doors under a sign labeled “Dormitory”. It was just about empty.

Hemmings saw me looking around. “The kids are still in school. That’s over in the West Wing. I’ve got you in a room on the third floor. You’ll meet your roommate later. For now, you can take that shower Dr. Desai wants you to take. Then we’ll see about some clothes.”

We headed to an elevator and rode up to the third floor. Hemmings led me to a communal bathroom that was a lot like the one in my college dorm: a row of sinks along two walls, a set of stalls, and, through a wide doorway, a smaller room with a rack for towels along one wall and shower nozzles on the other three. I thought something was missing, but then I realized that there were no urinals. ‘Well,’ I thought, ‘this definitely the girl’s bathroom.’

Hemmings sat down on a long bench outside the shower room. “Strip down and get into the shower,” she said. Once again I found myself taking off my clothes in the presence of a woman. This time, there was no privacy curtain. I might have been a piece of meat, though, as far as Hemmings was concerned. She picked up the clothes as I took them off and put them in the bag.

When I handed her the jeans, she felt some extra weight. She reached into the pocket and pulled out the knife and the Medallion. “What are these?”

“The, umm, the knife’s for protection. I took it when I left home.”

“And this necklace?”

“It’s...” I could hardly tell her what it really was. I thought fast. “It was my Mom’s. It’s not worth much, but it’s all I have of hers.”

“Well, you can’t wear it in the shower. We have a rule here about newcomer’s personal belongings anyway.” She took a second, smaller bag from a pocket of her jacket. “I’ll keep these for you while you’re here. You’ll get them back in a month.” She put the knife and the Medallion into the bag. “If you’re here that long.”

In a way, I was relieved. If she’d put them in with the clothes, she might have done something that turned her into my double. That would be impossible to explain. But the prospect of having to stay here for a month, as a girl no less was not something to look forward to. I shrugged my shoulders, took that purple soap, Dr. Desai had given me, and headed into the shower.

Whatever the soap was, it lathered up great. It felt strange to be soaping the curves of that new female body of mine. Everything felt so soft. There were curves where there’d always been angularity. And some of the places, well, they were just so sensitive. I think I could have spent days just rubbing that lather onto and into my breasts.

Hemmings yelled something. “Don’t forget your hair. I’ll be right back.”

I couldn’t forget my hair. It was heavy with the water and pulling on my scalp. I worked up a second lather and rubbed it into my hair, making sure to work it in well. While I rinsed, tilting my head back and feeling the soapy water run down my hair and onto my back, I went back to working on my breasts again. I felt a warmth spread out into my breasts. It seemed to head straight down to my groin. I reached down with one hand and began rubbing along the edges of my new pussy. It felt absolutely wonderful.

I was just about to stick a finger up into my pussy, when I heard Hemmings again. “Hey, are you done in there yet?” I pulled my hands away from myself in embarrassment.

“Almost,” I yelled back. Thank Heavens she hadn’t looked in. I ran my fingers through my hair to make sure that the last of the soap was out of it. I turned and let the shower wash the lather from my front. The spray felt so good on my tender breasts that I was sorry to stop. I turned the water off slowly, letting it run cold for a few seconds.

As I came out of the shower room, Hemmings handed me a towel. “Dry yourself, then put this on,” she said, pointing to a white cotton bathrobe lying on the bench. I patted, rather than rubbed, myself dry the way I remembered my ex-wife doing it. I could understand why now. A woman’s skin was a lot more tender than a man’s. I put on the bathrobe. Hemmings handed me another towel. I wondered why for a minute, then suddenly knew what it was for, and wrapped it around my hair.

Hemmings picked up a bag from the bench, and we walked down the hall to a bedroom. Again, it was dorm standard: two beds along the side walls and a couple of desks by a window. There was a low dresser and a wrack for hanging clothes near each bed. The bed on the left side had a couple of blankets and a set of sheets and a pillow piled on it. The bed on the right was made. There were a couple of posters on the wall over that bed, rock stars, I guessed, and what looked like a couple of personal mementos on the desk next to it.

“You can make your bed as soon as you’re dressed,” Hemmings said. Your roommate should be coming up from classes in about a half hour.” She tossed the bag onto the bed.

I opened the bag expecting to find the clothes that I’d been wearing. Wrong! I pulled out a white cotton bra. What the hell? I turned and looked at Hemmings.

“We’re still disinfecting the clothes you came in. You’ll get them back tomorrow. For now, I got some stuff out of stock. I think you’re a little too, umm, developed to go without a bra.”

I dumped the rest of the clothes out onto the bed. It was all girls’ clothes: cotton panties, a pair of jeans, a pale blue blouse with short scalloped sleeves and a wide neckline, socks, and sneakers; very pretty and very feminine. I picked the bra up again, and tried to remember how my ex had put one of these damned things on. Oh, yes, I remembered.

I took off the robe and laid it on the unmade bed. Then I picked up the bra again and put my arms through the straps and reached around to find the two ends. I pulled these back behind me slowly, so my breasts more or less settled into the cups. I fumbled a little with the hooks, but, after a moment, I was able to close them. I reached into the cups and moved my breasts around a little to get them more comfortable. I had to admit that the support felt nice.

I held the panties out in front of me and stepped into it, one leg at a time. As I pulled it up around my hips, I couldn’t help noticing how different the material felt from my usual cotton shorts. ‘Hell,’ I thought. ‘Who worried about how their underwear felt?’ This girl stuff was getting to me.

It was easy finishing getting dressed. Jeans and a shirt, socks and sneakers, they’re all the same regardless of what sex they were designed for. After I dressed, Hemmings actually helped me to make the bed. I think she was trying to be a “pal”, so I would trust her. She was a fool, like most people, and I had no real trouble toying with her.

We were just finishing the bed, when I heard a voice behind me. “Hi, they told me I was getting a new roommate.”

I turned. The speaker was a girl about 16, my current age. She was tall and a bit on the skinny side, except from her breasts which looked enormous. She was Hispanic, with long, straight brown hair that hung down almost to her waist. She was dressed very much as I was, in a pair of jeans and a blouse, but she had blue earrings in the shape of an owl, and, I noticed, a bracelet on her wrist.

“I’m Angie Garcia,” she said. She put down the book bag she was carrying and stuck out her hand in greeting.

“I’m Sarah, umm, Sarah Doe.” I shook her hand. She seemed like a friendly enough sort, but I was going to have to be careful.

“I’ll leave you two alone to get acquainted,” Hemmings said. She walked out, shutting the door behind her.

Angie ran over and locked the door. Then she pulled a pocket radio out of a desk drawer and turned it on. It was set to one of the local rock stations, with the volume cranked up a bit.

“Sometimes she listens at the door,” Angie said. “Now, what are you here for?”

“Runaway.” This girl was starting to have possibilities.

“That all? Really all?”

“No, actually, I kidnapped somebody.”

“Right, and I’m here for busting into Fort Knox.”

“Let’s leave it at 'runaway' for now, okay? Why does she listen at the door?”

“Because she wants to help us; at least, that’s what she says if somebody catches her. Look, it’s actually not too bad a place here. Nobody really comes down hard unless you ask for it. There’re a few dangerous kids to watch out for, boys and girls, but once you get the feel of it, things ain’t too bad.”

“Yeah, that’s why there a fence with barbed wire.”

“I didn’t say it was perfect. Are you really a runaway?”

“Yeah.” I decided to be noncommittal about details. “Things just got, well, too much, so I left. They caught me in a warehouse downtown.”

“I’m in for shoplifting. My old man freaked and said they could throw away the key, so I wound up here for the next year.”

“Just two dangerous criminals, I guess.”

“Looks that way.”

Suddenly I had a friend. Whether I wanted one or not; I was stuck with Angie. We talked a while longer. She had a boy friend, one who showed up once in a while to visit. I said I didn’t want anybody to know where I was, and that I didn’t have a boy friend, anyway. Angie said her friend, Tink, had a friend who had just broken up with his girl over something she didn’t know what. If I wanted, Tink could bring Joey along the next time he came. I was stupid enough to go along with the idea, if only to get her off the subject.


Tink showed up about three days later. He was a tall and lanky boy of 18 with straight black hair that he wore long, down past his shoulders. With his dark complexion, he looked almost Indian. Joey was shorter, but much more muscular. His hair was also black but much curlier. He looked more Italian than Hispanic.

It occurred to me that, if I could get the Medallion before their next visit, I could leave Drexler Hall as Joey. Of course, that meant that I’d have to get him someplace alone for the time it took us to exchange bodies. But the way he was looking at my new body that didn’t seem like it would be too hard to do.

Since it was a nice day, they let the kids and their visitors roam free on the grounds. Angie led the three of us to a wooded section not too close to the buildings. We talked for a while, but then she took Tink by the hand and walked with him into some bushes. I could hear giggling and the bushes began to rustle.

I was alone with Joey, and suddenly I didn’t feel very safe. He looked at me and smiled -- no, he leered. “Let’s go find our own bushes.”

I was right. This was definitely trouble. “Not so fast, Joey; I just met you.”

“So? You want it. All girls do. They just lie and say that they don’t to mess with a guy’s head.”

It was like hearing my old self talk. I’d always known that was true of women. Only now, I was a woman, and I didn’t want “it”. I was in trouble. I wanted him to come back but I certainly didn’t want to have sex with this arrogant little Spick.

“Maybe we do,” I said, “but, please, not so soon. I want to get to know you a little first.” I started to leave. “Let’s go back to the building and talk.”

Games!” He said and grabbed my arm. “I’m tired of girls like you playing games.”

I tried to pull free, but he was much too strong. I called to Angie and Tink for help, but they were too busy making their own noises to hear me. Joey walked further into the woods, dragging me behind.

We walked about twenty yards. Joey found a clump of bushes near the base of a small hill. There was a small area with some thick grass between the bushes and the hill. He yanked my wrist, and I stumbled forward, falling onto the grass. Joey was right down on top of me, pinning me with the weight of his body. I pushed and wriggled trying to get him off, but he was too strong and too heavy.

“Keep it up,” he said with a laugh. “I like it when a girl puts up a fight.” He slid down so his one knee was between my legs.

He brought his head down and kissed me on the mouth. I clenched my jaw to keep my lips shut and reached around to pound at his back. He broke the kiss and grabbed my wrists, holding them both in one large hand. He pushed them back over the top of my head so hard that my arms hurt. With his free hand, he grabbed the collar of the blouse that I was wearing. One yank and buttons went flying. The blouse was opened down almost to my waist. He reached in and began to paw at my breasts, grabbing first one then the other.

I began to scream every nasty name I could think of. He pulled his hand away from my chest and slapped me. “Listen, Bitch. I’m fucking you. You can lay back and help me to enjoy it, or you can get hurt. Either way it’s happening.” He slapped me again, “So shut up.” I stopped yelling, seeing no point in getting him any madder.

He kissed me again on the lips, but I still managed to keep my mouth shut. Then he began kissing his way down my neck and towards my breasts. When he got that far, he started to suck my left breast, while he rubbed the right one, tweaking at my nipple with a finger. In spite of the anger I was feeling, he began to get to me. I felt my nipples becoming hard and erect. There was a warmth down at my groin.

I tried to fight it, but the old male tricks: thinking of baseball statistics and doing math problems in my head, didn’t work. The feelings grew as little jolts of pleasure flashed between my breasts and my pussy. Joey kept playing with my breasts, switching his mouth from the left one to the right after I while. I felt my panties begin to get wet from the lubrication I was leaking. I felt something else, too. It was long and hard and inside Joey’s pants pushing up against me.

Joey must have sensed how ready I was. I felt his hand move down and grab the bottom of my skirt. He raised his hips and pulled it up around my waist. His hand shot under it and groped for my pussy. He ran his finger along the edge of my vagina through the moistened material. I squirmed and spread my legs without thinking. He grabbed the material and yanked again. The fragile material tore apart, and he reached up and waved it above his head like a flag of triumph.

He tossed the ruined panty away and reached down to fumble with his jeans, pulling at the belt and the zipper. He got them loose and yanked them down, taking his shorts with them.

Suddenly I felt something moving against my bare leg. It was Joey moving his prick around trying to find my pussy. I tried to move. He yanked my arms sharply and yelled, “Don’t move, Bitch.” At that moment, I felt his prick against my pussy lips. I froze in absolute fear, and it slid in a little. Joey pushed. I felt something tear inside me.

“Damn!” Joey said, “A virgin pussy.” He began to pump in earnest. I felt some pain, but that was quickly overshadowed by the incredible sensations of pleasure he was causing. I tried to resist, but it it was incredible. I wanted to tell him to stop, but the words stuck in my throat. I moaned, and my body began to match his motions, his rhythm.

Suddenly he stopped, and I felt something spurt into me. My body reacted. I lost all control, shaking violently with my own -- my female -- orgasm. I yanked my wrists free, but instead of trying to push him away, I wrapped my arms around him, trying to pull him in closer. He began to pump into me again, but less intensely. In a moment, I began to feel him going soft inside me.

He rolled off, his prick sliding out of me. He lay on his back, panting and trying to catch his breath. “You’re one good fuck, Baby.”

My body wanted to lay there in the hopes that he would continue to give it pleasure. Only now my mind was back in control. This dumb Spic had just raped me! I rolled away from him and got up as quickly as I could. He tried to grab my ankle and pull me back down, but I was too quick, too cunning. I dodged his hand and kicked as hard as I could, aiming straight for his nuts!

He let loose a howl and curled up in a ball. I turned and ran back to the building.

I must have been quite a sight, running towards the building, my blouse ripped open, my hair a mass of tangles and grass, Joey’s cum dripping down my leg. A couple of people grabbed me and took me straight to Dr. Desai’s office. As we hurried towards the doctor’s office, I blurted out what had happened. Somebody, a couple of people, ran back towards the woods.

Desai had me strip at once. She wasn’t surprised to see that my panties were missing. After a quick look for bruises, she had me get into those stirrups again. “The police will need a sample” was all the explanation she gave. She had done an exam when I first came, so she knew I was -- I had been -- a virgin.

She checked for any damage, but beyond loss of virginity under very bad circumstances, I seemed to be okay. There wasn’t much damage to the rest of me either, those both my shoulders hurt for a while from the way Joey had held my arms above my head. Desai gave me some pills to calm me down and told me to come back in a few days for a follow up check.

Angie came in with some clothes. She looked like she’d been crying. “Sarah,” she said. “I-I’m so sorry. Tink and I didn’t know. Joey split up with his girl a few weeks again. He told Tink that they’d just decided not to see each other anymore. It turns out that he tried to rape her. She said that she wouldn’t tell anybody if he swore to leave her alone. She moved out to the West Coast just to get away from him.”

“And you thought he’d be just my type.”

“Sarah, I swear that Tink and I didn’t know.” She began to sniffle. “If it makes you feel any better, they’re not going to let Tink come out to see me anymore.” Now she was crying. “Sarah, I love him. We were going to get married when I got out of here. I’ll be seventeen then, and we can do it legal.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better. You can’t see him for a few weeks is supposed to make up for me being raped.”

“Sarah, I’m-I’m sorry.” She turned away, her face red, her eyes full of tears and ran from the room. I tried not to smile. It was what she deserved.

“I guess you’ll be moving.” I turned. Hemmings had come in from Desai’s office. “I don’t think you and Angie will be rooming together after this.


Hemmings found me a single room on the same floor and helped me move the clothes and such that I had. Angie came to my new room a couple nights later and tried to apologize. Who cared? I just wanted to get that Medallion at the end of the month and get out of that place.


I went back to Desai’s for her checkup that Thursday. She looked me over for any bruises, and then had me get back onto the table and into those stirrups. “I understand that you and Angie are still not talking,” she said while she poked around inside of me. It was annoying, but it distracted me, at least, from the weirdness of having to go through another gynecologic exam.

“Do you blame me?”

“Yes. Angie is not to blame. She had no way of knowing what that boy was like.”

“If she didn’t know him, how could she go off and leave me with him?”

“Because she is young and in love, and that can make one very foolish.”

“Who cares? Can we change the subject?”

“No matter, I am done for now.” She moved away from the table and put something into a container on a counter. “I may wish to talk to you tomorrow, though.”

“You’ll know where to find me.” I climbed off the table and got dressed. Classes were over for the day, so I headed back to my new room to kill time until dinner.”


The next day, while I was in class, a message came over the PA system for me to report to Hemmings’ office immediately. Desai was waiting when I got there.

“Please sit down, Sarah.” Hemmings said. She shifted into her professional “concerned adult” mode, smiling gently as she pointed to a chair. “Dr. Desai has some news that you need to hear.”

‘Bad news,” I thought. I sat down, carefully sliding my hand below my skirt so it wouldn’t wrinkle and trying to look innocent and demure. Had they somehow found out who I really was?

“There is no easy way to tell this, Sarah,” Desai began. “When you were in my office yesterday, I did a pregnancy test. It just came back, and the results were positive.”

“Pregnant! No, I can’t be.”

“I can do a second test, but I am sure that the results will be the same.”

“Can... can we do something... get rid of it?”

“Not while you’re a ward of the county,” Hemmings said. “The county commissioners have a long standing policy of not paying for abortions.”

“How do your parents feel,” Desai said. “If you called them, they could take you home and do whatever they think is right for you.”

My parents? My parents were dead. Sarah’s had never existed because she didn’t really exist. “I don’t want to go home. I-I can’t”

“Not even for this?” Hemmings asked. “Sarah, whatever happened, you need them now. Please tell us how to get in touch with them.”

“No! Can I go now? I have a lot to think about.”

“Yes, I understand. Go think about it, and come back if -- when -- you change your mind.”

I left. Hemmings and Desai couldn’t understand. I knew enough about the Medallion to know that it didn’t work on a pregnant female. I was going to be Sarah for at least nine more months.


That was over three years ago.

They decided not to give me my stuff back until after I had the baby. The knife was the reason. They thought I might use it on myself or on Angie. I wouldn’t have, of course. At least, I wouldn’t have used it on myself.

Angie and I did get to be friends again when she helped me in the last months of the pregnancy. I had my daughter, and I gave her up for adoption. When I went back to the Home afterwards, I discovered that Angie had moved all my stuff back into her room. She managed to get my stuff from the safe, too. But the Medallion wasn’t in the package with the rest. It had gotten lost somehow. I spent a month searching for it before I finally gave up. I was going to be Sarah Doe for the rest of my life.

While I was pregnant, I found out how they rescued Kuzak.

The cops searched the car and found the lease for the cabin right where I’d left it, in the glove compartment. A squad of state police headed for the cabin and found her as I’d left her, half naked and chained to the bed.

They didn’t believe her story at first. Who would? Fortunately for her, I’d used the Medallion to change her into what she would have been if she’d been born a girl. That meant that she had Don Kuzak’s fingerprints. They had to believe fingerprints.

Since I disappeared the same day as Kuzak was kidnapped, the police have figured out that I -- my real self -- was involved. Even if I found the Medallion, I can’t go back to my old life. Since Sarah is the female counterpart of the boy whose shirt I bought, I have his fingerprints. I hope that he’s behaving himself. I was fingerprinted shortly after I first came to Drexler.

The company gave Kuzak the $100,000 that should have been mine plus another $250,000 for what she’d gone through. She used some of the money to go back to school, since Vartex couldn’t have a person with the body of a 16 year old working for it.

She came back about two months ago with a master’s degree in business from Wharton. Those bastards gave her a district manager’s job at the main office. She pulls down something like $145,000 per year. I hear that she’s dating the son of one of the senior Vice Presidents.

Me, I’ve got a high school diploma from Drexler Hall. My grades were good -- they should have been; I was cum laude in college. Only there was no money to send Sarah to college. I took some computer courses at Drexler and spent a year at a business school, working as a waitress to cover my tuition. I managed to get a job in the personnel office at Vartex. That’s how I could find out about what happened to Kuzak after she was rescued. I make $375 a week.

I’ve more or less adjusted to being a female, but after Joey, I’m terrified at the thought of being intimate with anyone male or female. Fortunately, I have very few friends, so the subject seldom comes up.

I have not always hated Don Kuzak.

But I do now.

He ruined my life.

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