By Ellie Dauber (c) 2007
Author's note. The idea for this short came from a news story of an armed gunman at NASA (04/20/07). When I heard the news that the gunman and the male hostage were dead, but that the female survived, I thought... well, read the story, and you'll see what I thought. Then you might write a review and say what you thought.
By Ellie Dauber (c) 2007
The last thing I remember was the sound of the gunshot. I didn't even feel it hit me.
I was floating, surrounded by a whiteness so bright that I could even see it with my eyes closed. If I had really had eyes in that disembodied state.
Then -- suddenly -- I did have eyes. I felt flesh surround me, contain me, again, and it felt... wonderful.
I was sitting in a chair. My arms -- my arms -- tied behind my back. I was blindfolded and gagged, too. Jaime Velasquez had certainly known how to tie someone up.
He certainly had. I had to laugh when I thought that, gag or no gag.
I heard shouts from someplace. "Mr. Velasquez... Jaime... is everything all right in there?" When there was no answer, they called other names: Pete Langdon, Rosa deSantos. No one answered. We couldn't.
I heard the sound of wood shattering. Axes, maybe: who knew. Who cared? I leaned back in the chair and started to get used to my new body.
Moments later, I heard the same voice, very close, very... male. "It's all right, Ms. deSantos; we're the police. I'm Sgt. Mullen." He was untying my hands. As soon as they were free, I pulled off the blindfold.
I gasped through the gag. The sight of my body, my former body lying dead on the floor was a shock. My -- his, I had to remember to say his -- face had a look of surprise and fear. Why shouldn't it?
Did it hurt to die, I wondered. I found myself hoping that it did. I'd squeezed the trigger as the spell took effect. I hoped that Rosa's spirit had gotten into my body in time to feel the pain as it died.
Langdon, that Puerco, was dead, too. I'd shot him first, right between those beady eyes. I don't know which I enjoyed more: the look on his face when the bullet hit or the look on Rosa's when she saw her lover die. I smiled at the memory, then quickly changed that expression to one of fear. It wouldn't do for anyone to see Rosa deSantos smiling.
"Can you walk?" Mullen asked.
I got to my feet." I think so." I was six inches shorter, top heavy, and in heels. "Maybe you'd better help me," I said nervously.
He took my arm and started guiding me towards the door. We had to pass near my... Jaime's body. "Son of a BITCH!" I shouted, especially that last word -- the first two were pretense, and spat. Mullen didn't say a word, though I thought I heard him chuckle at my obviously feminine actions.
* * * * *
I got back to our apartment a couple of hours later. The people Rosa worked for had given her the rest of the week off with pay. The cops hadn't been very much of a hassle. I was a kidnapping victim, for G-d's sake. How could they be anything but helpful. A doctor checked me over quickly; no damage, of course. I'd been careful not to hurt the body I was going to occupy.
Mullen gave me his card, in case I needed to talk to him about the case. The way he acted, I think he was hoping I'd want to talk to him about other, personal things. I couldn't blame him. This body was hot, but I had no intention of having sex with anybody else until I saw Mama Luisa. She had promised she could change it into a male one.
Rosa hadn't changed the apartment much from the day she threw me out. There was a picture of her and Langdon at some amusement park, where our wedding picture had been. There were some male clothes I didn't recognize in the bedroom closet. They, and a few other things around the place that had to be his, would go in the trash or to Goodwill as soon as I had the chance.
I yawned. Well, it had certainly been one hell of a busy day. I walked back into the bedroom and began to unbutton my blouse. I tossed it on the bed and stepped out of my skirt.
The closet doors were mirrored. I could see myself, and it was a sight to behold. I walked -- no, I strutted -- over for a better look. It was worth the walk.
The reflection was of a tall, athletic-looking Latina with coppery colored skin and jet black hair that hung straight down just past her shoulders. She wore a dark blue demi-bra that went well with her skin tone and made her 36-C breasts look even bigger. She wore a matching blue panty, barely wider than a thong, and, under the panty, a garter belt that held up a pair of slate gray, very sheer stockings. Her legs looked perfect, with three-inch heels giving them just the right amount of feminine curves. Not man could ever resist a woman who looked like that.
Not even a man stuck in that very body.
I felt my nipples tighten. There was a warm, kind of empty feeling in my crotch. As always, Rosa knew how to dress to make a man horny.
I decided to do something about it. I slid my left hand under the bra and began to play with her nipple, tweaking and rubbing it. My G-d, that felt good! I did the same with the other breast, and it felt -- I felt -- even better. I kept it up for a while, enjoying the sensations running through me. Then, my right hand moved slowly, deliciously slowly, down, down, down to my crotch.
I found my slit. It was already moist, and ran my nail along the edge. "Oooooh." I was still a moaner, just like before. I slid in a finger, then another. I found my clit and began to play with it the way Rosa had always liked. I moaned again and stumbled backwards. My knees felt weak, my legs were wobbly.
I didn't stop, but I got to my bed and lay down, kicking off my shoes. Just in time, too. Something had been building, peaking in me. Without warning, it broke. An explosion of pleasure washed over me. My body rose off the bed as I screamed. "Yes! Yes, Pete, yes!"
I came back from that explosion into a comforting warmth like nothing I had felt before. My hand kept the motion going, and soon I felt the joy, the pleasure building in me again. The second orgasm was better than the first, and the third better still. Exhausted, I pulled my hand out of my tingling pussy and lay back on the bed.
My heart was beating so fast I could almost hear it. I was covered with sweat that plastered my clothes to my body. My hair was a tangle from my movements in the midst of orgasm. And I was smiling the biggest, most satisfied smile of my life.
I fell asleep that way.
I don't remember much of the dream I had. I was myself again, arguing with Rosa about something. There was no way to tell what; we argued about so many things. I grabbed her, forced her down on the bed, and began to have sex with her. To rape her.
To rape me.
That was when I woke up.
I looked at the clock radio. It was almost 9 AM. I'd slept through the night. My clothes were sticky, my body felt... dirty. The room smelled of sweat and sex. The sheet was wet, too, and it felt clammy against my skin.
I got out of bed and stripped. The air conditioner's breeze was cool on my skin, and I felt goose bumps all over. I decided to take a shower.
I had to turn down the force of the shower. It stung my tender skin. Pete must have used it last. He always let me shower first because it took me longer to dress.
Unless we showered together.
I jerked my head, suddenly awake. Where has that thought come from? I... Jaime ... I, dammit, always let Rosa shower first for just that reason. I was just confused. "Still sleepy," I whispered. I took a bar of soap from the shelf in the corner and began to lather.
Especially my breasts. It felt so good, so very good to run the soap across my slippery, wet skin, across my tight, tender nipples. Then slowly, very slowly, down my stomach -- stop at my navel, yes, yes, rub there. I'm an "innie". I put in my pinkie and played with it.
Then down, down, to my fur-covered slit. I drop the soap; I don't need it. Just my hand, as fingers touch the lips in welcome before they plunge in. In. And out. And in and out again and again. One hand kneads my breast, plucking at the nipple like a guitar, while one finger of the other does the same to my clitty.
I fall back against the shower wall, screaming my delight as the orgasm hits me. I sink down to the tile as my talented fingers bring me to the peak of a second one. I squeal and thrash as it hits me, not caring as my hair is soaked and the make-up I forgot to remove runs down my face.
Eventually, I stand up, turn off the water, and step out. The towels are big and pinks and fluffy. I dry myself carefully, not wanting to start things up again with my body.
I went automatically to the drawer where I... where Rosa kept her underthings. I picked a rather simple white cotton bra and matching panties. I felt a bit -- was disappointed the word? -- as I stepped into such a plain looking panty. It was the same when I put my arms through the straps of the bra and reached behind to do the hooks. As if it was a shame not to wear prettier underclothes.
Why was I thinking such thoughts? And how had I been able to put on the bra so easily?
Of course, it was easy. I had been wearing a bra for years. I remember how happy I was the day Mama took me to the store. My little titties were barely a AA-cup. "You are a woman now, my Rosalita," she had said. "A brassiere shows this to the world. Besides," she added with a chuckle, "if you are like the rest of the women in the family, you will need to wear such things soon enough."
I shivered. How had I remembered such a thing? That was Rosa's past. The memory should have died with her. I thought back to when I... when Jaime was that age. He was in the little league. I pictured his old team out on the field. I, of course, was in the stands cheering -- no! He was... I was playing second base.
I remembered being on the team, being Jaime, but I also remembered being in the stands, being Rosa. She was rooting for us, for... I never knew that she had a crush on my friend Rafi. Of course, I did. I... I gave him my virginity a week after my quinceañera party.
I whimpered. My memories as Jaime were still there, but so were Rosa's memories. And hers were getting stronger.
"Mama Luisa," I all but shouted the name. She was the bruja who gave me the spell to trade souls. She would know what was happening to me.
I threw on a t-shirt and jeans. Pulled on the jeans, actually; Rosa liked to wear them tight, to show off her body.
I was about to go out the door, when I happened to glance in the mirror. No, I couldn't go out looking like this, not for something so important.
I replaced the shirt with a bright yellow blouse with a not too low neckline and puffy sleeves that stopped a few inches above my wrist. With it, I wore a brown, knee-length, pleated skirt. I skipped the stockings, putting on bright yellow sandals with a one-inch heel.
Fine, now could I go?
No. I ran a brush through my hair. Lipstick and a quick spray of perfume completed the look. At least, they did when I added a pair of pearl earrings and Rosa's bracelet watch. All the time, I kept telling myself that I just wanted to pass, and all the time I knew that it was Rosa's memories that were making me do this.
* * * * *
Mama Luisa's Botanica was a small store on a quiet side street in the old neighborhood. As I drove there, the sights brought back other memories. When I passed my old school, I remembered the pigtails I had worn until I was teased by the boys for looking like such a baby. That store was where Mama bought me that first bra. I had my hair done at that beauty shop just last week. Rafi kissed me in the balcony of that movie theatre; he touched my breasts there, too, the first time I let a boy be that intimate. Then I remembered going there -- and making out -- with Jaime. I remembered all the time we spent together, but I was remembering it as Rosa lived it, not as Jaime had.
By the time I got to the Botanica, I had most of her memories. Mine were fading away. I had to hurry before they were gone.
The store was almost empty, just Mama Luisa wearing a long, green dress, sitting in an overstuffed gray chair drinking some tea. "I was wondering when you would arrive," she said in a thick accent.
"You've got to help me, Mama Luisa," I pleaded. "Rosa... the memories... your spell." I grabbed her by the shoulders and began to cry.
She spoke in a voice that was almost a purr. "The memories," she said, "and one last one to complete the spell."
I closed my eyes. I saw her standing there in the store. Her dress was blue and a different style. "You say that he wants to kill me," I heard myself… Rosa ask.
"He does, and I, I am sorry to say, have given him the means to do so, and to escape any legal punishment."
"Then what can I do?" I... Rosa, it was her memory.
Mama Luisa handed me a thin silver necklace with a small white porcelain rose. "You must wear this, wear it at all times, even when you sleep. It will turn my spell against him."
I took the necklace and put it on. One of Jaime's memories came to me. She had been wearing it yesterday when I broke into the store. My hand shot to my throat. I was still wearing it. I tried to yank it off, to open the clasp. It wouldn't budge.
Now I was remembering as Rosa. "How can I thank you, Mama Luisa?"
The old bruja smiled. "Just do not be mad at me for letting this happen. And do not worry. I will not allow any real harm to come to the daughter of my sister's daughter."
I felt dizzy. I trembled and closed my eyes. When I opened them, Jaime was gone. He had left my body forever. "Thank you again, Mama Luisa."
My great aunt gave me a warm smile. "It is over, then?"
"It is. Jaime is in whatever hell he deserves for what he tried to do." I crossed myself. "And Pete, my sweet, gentle Pete, rests a bit easier, I think."
* * * * *
If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos!
Click the Thumbs Up! button below to leave the author a kudos:
And please, remember to comment, too! Thanks.