The Nexus

By Mocs

46 minute read -

Absolute power corrupts absolutely. I don’t know who first said that but I know it to be absolutely true as I am absolutely corrupt. It all happened in less than a week. One, then another, and another of my values were discarded until I am where I am. Who am I to be absolutely powerful, you scoff. Well, I am, and you will be too.

I wasn’t always this way. In fact, I was a man of standards and values. I knew what was right and wrong. I didn’t pretend or rationalize, to color actions “gray”. Understand, I didn’t always do the right thing, but I tried and usually did. Then something happened, a nexus to another way of life, an unimaginable life.

I was in my 50’s, divorced after over 25 years of marriage and had grown children. It was hard for me after the divorce. I had never planned on being single again. I had found dating and finding a wife difficult, even when I was younger. I had been happy with the security of marriage. Then she found someone else and my world vanished in an instant. I was not ill prepared for this; I was absolutely lost. For a year after the divorce my friends said that my depression sucked the air out of a room.

So here I was in my 50’s, 5’5” and again looking for female company that I sorely wanted. I was in good shape working out as I did. Even at my age I had a full head of hair, even if it was thinning on the crown and gray at the edges. My attire was in good taste. I was educated having a post graduate degree. My hygiene and health were good. Even so, just as when I was younger, few women want anything to do with you at 5’5”. It is that simple. I don’t begrudge them that. I know what I am attracted to. We all have a right to be attracted to what we are attracted. Sadly, that left me at best as the “friend”. More often women would avoid me or be polite and dash away as fast as possible after I approached them. If I was paired with someone I was attracted to at dance class they would ask the instructor for a change. They would say something like with their heels on we were not balanced. If in a bar, they would just ask me to leave. I could go on, but you get the point. This was a very frustrating position.

The position I wanted was “committed significant other”. After a few years like this, just being in the missionary position would suffice. So what was I looking for that I couldn’t get a date? Why didn’t I date a short woman? I found them to be the worst about height. Look around; short gals gravitate to extremely tall men. I didn’t expect a model, but I did have standards. Well, I was not fat, and would not accept much of that. I would like to be able to talk to them and so education was a plus, being rational a must. A similar value system was important, but as I was getting desperate I was getting more focused on a woman’s physical aspects. A proportion to their body was nice. I liked a small waist, firm high round breasts, and a proportioned ass and legs. Sounds like what every man wants doesn’t it. Tall, short, blonde, redhead, brunette, 50 years old, 20 years old, rich, poor, dark, light, freckled; none of this mattered. As I said I knew what I was attracted to and what didn’t matter.

I didn’t give up. After work I would try Internet dating services. If I lied about my height, I would get responses. But there was no way to pretend to be six foot in person. So there it was, needing what wasn’t there. Then it happened, the nexus of my life. I was at a dance class when a gal, no, a goddess entered. I noticed her after she had passed me, so my first view was of her backside. I could hardly believe my physical response, especially at my age. This was something that happened to me when I was 18 on the beach with bikinied babes bouncing by.

She was 5’10”, had long loosely curled flowing light blond hair down to her wasp waist. As she talked to the instructor about joining the class her head moved and her hair would bounce and flow in a hypnotic fashion defying the weight of its length. Her top was sleeveless and showed her tanned toned arms. Her butt was curvaceous and tight. Its shape was easily seen without undergarment lines through the white clinging elastic short dance skirt that ended 3 inches above her knees. On one side of the skirt there was a ruffled slit that would allow freedom for dancing. Her legs, like her arms, were tanned and toned, long shapely gams. Her shoes were white 3” heels.

When she turned around, I thought I was going to need to sit so as to hide something. The heels were open-toed strapped things with sparkles on the straps. The toenails were painted pink with little white daises on the big toenails. Her legs went on forever. Her abdomen was absolutely flat, but her boobs were not. She was braless and the globes were high, firm, and though the top was high enough to cover most everything, it hid nothing. I guessed her at 38D-23-35.

Then I noticed her face. Yikes! Though her body could launch a thousand ships, her face surely sank every one of them. It was a masculine face, and I think she had the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow! The angles of the cheeks and chin were quite angular. Further the plumpness of her face didn’t fit her lean body. Even the skin was course, rough even. The pores of the skin on her face were easily seen. That and the large nose were so out of place on her. I was embarrassed when she walked up to me and said that while most people stare at her they don’t stare at her face like I was.

I looked around speechless, and yes, everyone was staring at her, and perhaps me too. My eyes came back to her face, for all her beauty I couldn’t look at the rest of her. I was transfixed at her face. Normally I would have been like a deer in her headlights, which shone like high beams. But not now, now I was paralyzed looking at her face. She took my hand and said, “Let’s dance.”

After years of dance lessons, trolling for dates really, I was a reasonable dancer. We did a Waltz, Rumba, Tango, and more. And even though we had never met before, much less practice together we did reasonably well. We talked very little but she did say her name was Hank. At least we got our names out of the way. She didn’t mention my height, and I didn’t mention her face. I was amazed as she moved with the grace of a ballerina; her movements were graceful and seductive. Every now and then we would bump, unintentionally I thought at the time. She felt so soft and firm at the same time. Her smell was intoxicating. When her breast brushed against me, I would almost gasp. My right hand felt the curve of her body. With her in heels she was over six feet tall; my eyes were at breast level. Even so, I was watching her face, without any effort to do so. Normally in this situation I would have had to work very hard to move my eyes up, and probably would have failed to maintain eye contact.

She then whispered in my ear, asking if her face was manly. If I lied here, I knew she would leave. I had no choice but to say that yes, it was manly. I then added that few of us were perfect and that I found her exciting, just as she was. She then said we should go to her place and she took me by the hand and headed out the door. I could feel the eyes of everyone in the place on us as we left. The women wondering what they had missed that such a beauty would fawn on me. The men just look stupefied. Without talking she led me to her car, gave me the keys and then gave directions to her apartment. I think I was in shock as I complied without a word.

Once in her apartment, she pointed to the sofa and I sat. She mixed two drinks, and gave me one of them. We sipped on our drinks, me on the sofa, her standing in front of me. She started to talk. Good thing she did, as I was starting to think that my pent up sexual energy had finally driven me mad. It wasn’t an illusion; she was talking I told myself. Or was I hearing voices now? She said that we were special people, very different than other people, and darn few of us. She gave me my second drink and sat next to me. She continued saying that I too could be in this body as she pointed her finger between her cleavage and poked the tank top in to the chest stretching the fabric around the entirety of each tit. I was feeling the drinks and took that as an invitation to be in her body

I reached around her, closed my eyes and kissed her. I knew better than to open my eyes, as I cupped a breast and squeezed. I didn’t want that face to kill my mood. I then lifted the tank top off her and began playing with the marvelous mammaries. I teased them, massaged them, and sucked on them, as she groaned. After considerable time, savoring every second of it, I then reached around her rear and pulled closer, I put my hand up the slit of her skirt and eventually, slowly found the gates to bliss. I knew she wasn’t wearing any underwear at all. The clothes she wore had told me that. After all these years I was finally getting laid. I entered and quickly blew the rust out of my pipes. I was embarrassed, but she didn’t even whimper. She just grabbed my member and within seconds I was so hard I thought it would explode again.

The second time I held it longer, the third even longer, until by morning it was difficult to cum and when I did, it was a dry shot. This was incredible. She was the most patient lover I could imagine. After I would cum she would just say, “Again.” When I had to rest for my bone to revive she would tell me a story about how we were Body Hoppers. Her story was that by touching someone and thinking we wanted to be him or her we would be him or her. She went on and on about this. It was amusing, and through all of it she kept a straight face. I just listened until my member came to life again, but as soon as the next session was over she would pick up her story.

I was now thinking that I would have to overcome my aversion to her face as not only was her body beautiful, she was incredible in bed, and she was a great storyteller. I wanted to stay with her and get to know her better. We could have more sex and I wanted to hear another story. If that Body Hopper story was any indication, she could hold me spellbound for hours even without sex.

Well, she got up got dressed and then said I had to go. She gave me a card with a phone number on it and the name “Hank”. She said to call if I had a problem or questions about Body Hopping. This gal never broke character; I was amused. She continued that because I was a hopper, no matter what body Hank was in I would see Hank’s face on the body. In fact that is how Hank knew I was an uninitiated hopper as I saw his face. Other folks can only see the hopper’s face in a reflection or image. .

She said that now that I had sex with a mounted hopper that I had been “activated”. Activating new hoppers was the duty of a Body Hopper. She left saying that she was going to have more fun in Janice’s body and to lock up when I left. I cleaned myself up and made myself a coffee. I picked up a magazine and noticed that it was addressed to Janice not Hank. After my coffee I also left, going back to my own place on foot. As I left, I felt that this didn’t smack of a relationship exactly. But, hey, I had a phone number. Of course it would be nice if the number wasn’t the county jail. I would find out when I called.

One of my friends, Becky, was getting married today. I had always wanted a relationship with her in spite of her being 25 years younger than me. But she didn’t feel that way about me. I put up with this as at least it was female company and we did have fun. When she met Brad, I was phased out. This is the way of life though. She wants to be with the man she loves. I just wish it could have been me. I tried to stay optimistic and thought about Hank/Janice. Perhaps something would happen there.

The day passed and I finally was at the wedding. Standard stuff, white dress, yada, yada, as least I could see that she was happy. In some way I was glad she was happy. From the church the crowd went to the reception at the hotel. I was feeling sad for myself as I went to the bathroom. I wanted to be married to Becky. We had fun together and it would have been great.

I went to take a leak in the rest room. The groom was entering the room at the same time. We had never met; I guessed Debbie didn’t want to explain having a plutonic friend. He was six foot two inches tall. What else would he be, I thought. As he started to urinate in the other urinal I glanced over. His member was huge. Though mine was proportional to my height, I felt so inadequate. I wanted his height and his cock. If I was him I could bang Becky tonight. We finished washing our hands about the same time. I turned to him and offered him my congratulations. As we shook hands, they seemed to stick together. Neither of us could break the grip! I had no idea of what was going on.

I started to feel fluid and I noticed my skin was gooey and it was going up his arm from our hands. We both started to panic. Trying to pull away each of us pulled but to no avail. He tried to push me away with his other hand, but the more we struggled every place there was skin-to-skin contact we stuck together. We both started to scream for help. I lost my voice, and I could feel my ooze going into his mouth silencing him. Every thing went black. I don’t know how long but suddenly I could feel feet, hands, face, clothing etc. It didn’t feel normal, but it least I was feeling something. I opened my eyes and I was alone in the room on the floor. There were clothes strewn about the bathroom. I got up and everything was somehow different. I felt taller. I looked in the mirror. I gasped as I saw that my body was much larger. I looked at the clothes on the floor. They looked like the blue suit I had worn. I was wearing the cream tux that Brad had been wearing. My hair was black and thick, not thin with a hint of grey as before. When I wanted to move, this new body did what I wanted. I didn’t have time to even think before the best man came in asking if I was all right. Somehow I knew his name was Jim. I just said that I had slipped and fallen but was OK now. Jim said “Brad, you better get out there and dance with your wife.

I said I would be right out, but needed to finish in here. Jim left and I went into the stall, closed it and opened my fly. I grabbed my penis and pulled it out. It was a ten-inch long hose. It was the penis I had envied. The story that Hank had told, this was that story in reality. I didn’t know what to do, but Jim was back yelling at me to get out there as it was time to cut the cake and he was going to escort me there as Becky was tired of waiting for me.

I walked out learning how to balance this large body in short order. The names of the family and guests were in my mind as I saw them. I wondered where Brad and Becky were going for their honeymoon, and I knew just as fast as I wondered. I walked over to Becky and gave her a passionate kiss. Rather than get a lecture on being just friends, she quivered and pressed her breasts against me. I felt stirrings in the elephant’s trunk I now had attached at my groin. I needed time to think about everything that was happening, but it wasn’t available. As fast as one event ended, the Best Man would move the events of the reception along. I did the appropriate dances, received the toasts, One thing just flowed into the next. Every time Becky would touch me, I felt that response down below. Jim took me to the rest room and gave me some traveling clothes and told me to change. He said I must be in love as I was in a daze.

Eventually it was time to leave, and the limo took Becky and I to the airport where our bags had already been sent. She had changed also. Her figure, pretty face, great legs all called to me as they always had. This time however, she whispered in my ears how she was going to rock my world as soon as we got to the honeymoon hotel in Hawaii. This was so different from, the “I don’t feel that way about you” line. I decided then and there to bang the shit out of her. Hell, after all those years, it simply was time.

Once I had decided that I was not going to bail, I got even more excited. We cuddled on the plane, and while doing that Brad’s memories of them together were readily available to my mind. When she referred to something, I knew all about it. I also knew that Brad had given both strippers at his bachelor’s party the benefit of trying his anaconda on for size. That didn’t matter to me thought, I just knew about it. In fact, I knew what emotion they would have, or I knew what they knew, but it was very mater of fact. I didn’t really feel it exactly.

I was free to act on the emotion or not without attachment. Hank had made a big issue of this. Once mounted, we were safe for about a week. After that the detachment started to diminish, we start feeling the mounts emotions. In fact, we took on the mounts thoughts and looks. How long before this started or you totally became the mount varied from one hopper to the next. Hank would only stay for a weekend. He had a story of a hopper that stayed too long and when he dismounted he looked like a clone of the mount. In fact he thought he was the mount. It took a year for him to slowly recover. He had a hopper friend who hid him while he recovered or the Hopper community may have killed him rather than risk exposure of our existence.

Eventually we got to the hotel and Becky went into the bathroom. When she came out she was wearing a white bustier. It pushed her ample mounds out the top, and accented her waist. I had already stripped and was sitting in bed. The sight of the woman I had wanted for years, dressed up like a bride on her wedding night, eager to have my member in her, made my new 10-inchs snap to attention. If the length wasn’t impressive enough the girth was there too. I wondered if this monster would hurt her, but instantly I knew she had gotten used to it and now didn’t want less.

I got up and started kissing her, picked her up and placed her on the bed. She had no bottom on and was actually dripping in excitement. I didn’t want to mess with the bustier, as it looked so good on her. She seemed ready and so I just grabbed the monster pounding at my groin and guided it into her drooling pussy. OK, I was not a sexual athlete, but the sensation from this monster in her enveloped me, and I felt like a six-foot cock. I came after only an instant, but the boner didn’t go down, I just kept it moving in and out of her as slow as I could, I felt her orgasm four times, but I never stopped. This went on for hours before I finally exploded for the fifth time myself. I had never been able to keep hard and go like that before. I remembered Hank saying Hoppers have great sexual powers and stamina.

She proclaimed her love and said that I had saved the best sex for this night when we were man and wife. If only “we” were man and wife I would have been happy. I always had feelings for her, and felt like a thief that had robbed her of her husband on this night. I rationalized that I had stood in for him and done a better job than he ever could have. I made excuses that Brad had boned the strippers, and this was his punishment. I knew that Brad had never been faithful as I reviewed memories of his encounters. Hank had said that the mind of the mounted body was in a dream like state that you could ask any question of and know everything instantly. I knew more than I wanted. Becky’s marriage was doomed. She had chosen this path when other options were there, specifically faithful dull me. She would have to live this path to its conclusion. As I wallowed in guilt, she wrapped herself around me and we both fell asleep.

When I woke up, I had another bone. She was already awake and playing with me. My rod was ready, she laughed gently as she told me to stay on my back. She straddled me and ever so slowly impaled herself on my generous phallus. This time she rode me. I loved her look, the smile on her face, her slim outlined bodice, the boobs squeezing up from their confines as she rocked rhythmically on my dick, all of this visible as she pleasured herself. I just shot load after load again staying erect. Finally she finished and dismounted. As we lay there she said she saw me in the bathroom mirror, and thought for a second my face was that of her friend, Frank. I asked her if she ever slept with Frank. She said goodness no and changed the subject. The contempt in her voice of having sex with me filled me with anger. I thought she deserved what was coming.

We showered and started our day. We had scheduled activities including touring Hawaii. I considered leaving Brad’s body. If Hank was right, I could exit Brad’s body at any time. I had left my clothes at the reception bathroom. So if I left now, I would be naked, with no ID, and stuck on an island with no way home. In short I had to ride this out or hop someone who was going back to the mainland. It was already Sunday, so a Monday at work didn’t look likely. I had stopped at an Internet café, and e-mailed my boss that I had the flu. If I had called with Brad’s voice on the phone machine it would not have sounded right. I didn’t know if my boss would accept e-mail, but it was all I had.

Becky and I did touristy things, had some laughs. It was so much more pleasurable having been intimate, and not being held at arms length. She touched me often and I returned the favor. Holding Becky’s hand started to irritate me, as she had denied this to me when I was myself. We found a beach with showers, rest rooms, a grassy area, and a BBQ area.

While on the beach we met another newlywed couple. John and Debbie were in their very early twenties, and were going back to the mainland tomorrow. Debbie was excited about starting a new life and home together, even if it was a small apartment. She was charming. John presented himself as caring, and treated Debbie gently and with love. They raised hope that such relationships actually exist.

I needed to get back to the mainland and thought this may be the best way to get there. John got up and went to the rest room. I excused myself and went with him. We entered the facility and I could see that it was deserted except for us. I went to the changing room and concentrated on leaving Brad. I felt my ooze come out of every one of his pores and Brad fell back with a thud on the bench. I was left standing. John had just finished his business when he heard the thud and rushed into the changing room. He saw Brad limp, strewn on the bench, and was starting to ask what happened when I jumped on John. I was naked and he was wearing a bathing suit so there was a lot of skin-to-skin contact and the mounting didn’t take long.

Hank had said when you leave it takes them about 20 or 30 minutes for the formerly mounted person to wake up. Further they only remember the beginning of being mounted and nothing else. Good ol’ Brad was not going to remember his wedding night. Too bad, that memory belonged to me. I tried to remember more of Hank’s story, but I was starting to black out again.

I woke up feeling shorter than Brad, but still five inches taller than my actual height. This time there was no one to interrupt me and I looked my new body over. John had a member that was appropriate to his height, but not a club like Brad’s. John had a lot of energy, but at 22 you do. Debbie was 21, and John’s high school sweetheart. His memories were right there for me. He did love her and, he was true to her. He had other girl friends, but when Debbie came along he stopped seeing them. Debbie was 17 when they met and she wanted to wait for intimacy until she was 18. John respected that, so that when Debbie gave herself she knew that John did love her. His memories were a little corny, but I liked it.

It had been a while, so I went back to Debbie and Becky. I said that Brad needed more time. Debbie gave me a kiss like I had been gone for a week. She held me tight and pressed her bosom to my chest. Oh, I liked that. Her smile was so sweet, and her scent intoxicating. I saw Brad stumble from the rest room door. He was awake but still confused. I told Becky that Brad had emerged from his “cave”. She called to him and he came over.

He was scared; he didn’t know where he was or how he got here. He didn’t remember anything since the wedding reception. He didn’t say anything about the attack of the slime monster. I suspect he felt it would make Becky question his sanity. He had a bump on his head and Becky said he must have had a nasty fall. She wanted to take him to the hospital, and after overcoming his reluctance Brad and Becky left.

I knew that I had promised Debbie a dinner at a nice restaurant. I suggested that we get ready for dinner. She held my hand as we walked to our nearby hotel room. In the room she took off her bikini top and I watched as her perky boobs just stood there. All the top did was cover her. The shape and position of her breasts were their own. She bent over to remove her bottom and her tits jiggled like they were from a gelatin mold. My new rod was rocketing to its zenith. Her mound was shaved except for a landing strip. When she stood up I put my arms around her slim waist and told her I needed her right now. She could feel my soldier through the swimsuit.

I kissed her passionately, and started to fondle those wonderful rubbery tits. She laughed and said that it might be easier if I removed my swimsuit. When I removed the suit she jumped into bed and said, “Here I am, come get me”. I thought I was going to explode without even entering her. Once again the sex was incredible. I was all cock again. Once again I came in a flash but stayed erect and just kept going. Debbie started to grind in rhythm, and she expanded on it slowly increasing her intensity until I gave her the first orgasm of her life. I didn’t stop then, I came with her second orgasm and kept going. After six hours of us both having multiple orgasms we exploded together one last time. At our young age we could go quite a distance. The difference from the my mount, John and I was that I brought twenty-five years of marriage experience and the power of being a Body Hopper to the table.

Debbie was quite surprised. It had never been like this before she said. I kissed her and lied saying it was the power of love. She melted and spooned with me. I did feel John’s love for her; it spilled from him into my awareness. I didn’t love Debbie, and that isn’t what was bothering me. I didn’t intend to do this; all I had wanted was a ride home. I didn’t want to take her and had promised myself to see to it that I didn’t.

At this late hour most everything was closed so we walked hand in hand to a fast food joint and had a quick bite before retiring. I was starting to reflect on my values as I lay in bed with her. I was hard pressed to think of one that I had not left behind. I had stolen Brad’s wedding night. I had used deceit and screwed the shit out of my friend Becky. Now I had again taken another man’s wife in the same fashion. There was no rationalizing taking Debbie, as I had Jackie. She was sweet, innocent and had done nothing to me. John was a nice guy.

I couldn’t tolerate this and concentrated on leaving John this very second. I would have to figure things out later. I just wanted out. In short order I sat up and got out of bed separating from John’s body and leaving it in bed. This must have disturbed Debbie as she woke up. I stood still, hoping she would not see me in the dark. This was not to be. She started screaming for John to wake up, and when he wouldn’t she screamed for anyone’s help.

I knew I was in trouble. The hotel security would be here in response to her screams. If they caught me naked in her room, that would be a problem. If they found me running in the hall naked, well, that didn’t have desirable results either. I could mount John again but she would see it. I remember Hank’s warning about what other Hopper’s would do to me if I let the outside world in on our existence. You never would know who was going to kill you, as it could be any mount. My only option was to mount the screaming Debbie.

I ran to the bed and jumped on her. Her screams intensified to almost deafen me until I covered her mouth with my hand as I thought, “Be Debbie, be Debbie”. Once my hand liquefied into her mouth she was unable to make even a muffled noise. I pressed all of me on her, melting into her. I figured that if only a little skin contact was enough, more skin contact might make it go faster so I pressed everywhere the blankets didn’t cover her naked body. Once again I passed out. When I woke up I could feel my eyes flutter and open and saw hotel security entering with a passkey. I had mounted her in the nick of time.

The lights came on, and two security personnel were looking about the room. One came to me and asked why I was screaming for help and asked if I was OK. The other checked the room for any intruder who may be hiding. I started to speak but paused when I heard Debbie’s young sweet voice come from my throat. When I had mounted Brad or John at least it was still a male voice. This was so different. One guard said speak up, you are safe now. Was there an intruder? I shook my head and felt her blonde hair move across my back as I did so. It was a distraction, but I had to focus and deal with these guys. Working to gain some composure, I told them that I had night terrors, nightmares that are so real that you think they are real.

In one way these guys were irritated that they had dashed up here for a bad dream, but at the same time they were relived that their hotel security had not been breeched. They asked about my “husband”. I told them that he was a deep sleeper. I said because of his deep sleep he could tolerate my night terrors, as they didn’t wake him. They looked at John and saw his chest move with each breath. The man talking to me didn’t seem to be looking at my face. I didn’t think much of it until I felt the cold air making my nipples hard. I looked down and there were two of the perkiest tits with what to me appeared to be huge nipples. The site aroused me and then I realized what he had been looking at. I was uncovered and giving him an eyeful. I lifted the blankets and slowly covered myself. I couldn’t take my eyes of these myself. Before they left they asked if I would like a room away from other guests. I offered that this was our last night at the hotel.

They offered to turn the lights off as they left, but I asked they as sweetly as I could to leave them on so I wouldn’t have another dream. In reality I was curious about being Debbie. John was still passed out. I got out of bed and went to the bathroom. I could see my old male face on this beautiful young girl‘s body. Her blonde hair framed my face as it went down ending just below my shoulder blades. I could feel the pull of the hair on my scalp, and how smooth it was on by shoulders. Her skin was very white in spite of her being in the islands for a week. I knew she had used copious amounts of sun block. I put my hands on her waist and felt the curve of her waist. This was so exciting. Then I felt the curve of her ass, back to the waist and then to the boobs. Oh, how I loved boobs.

It was only earlier in the evening that I had been feeling this body from the other side. I made several poses and checked myself out in the mirror from every angle. Damn, I was one hot woman. And the smell, a woman has a scent that can excite a man. Not only could I smell myself but the scent permeated every fiber of my being. I could feel, even taste the scent. At this point I marveled at her figure, my figure now. I moved my chest from side to side and watched the tits sway, and then I moved up and down and watched them bounce. There was not just one bounce. There was the main quake and then several aftershocks, each one a little less than the previous until the boobs were still. These titties were firm and I could feel their weight. I was about 5’ 5” again, but somehow this time I didn’t think it was going to be an issue. I guessed that I was a 34C-22-

I looked at her bush. I remembered the landing strip trim. Now I saw the bush was brown, not blonde. I had not noticed this when I had her earlier. Oh yes, my hair color was from a bottle. I looked at my hands. My fingers were long and had a nail set. I remembered having them done last week. The dark red color went well with my skin tone according to the manicurist. I took my fingers and carefully spread my labia. This was so different from anything I ever dreamed of. Taking care not to hurt myself with these long nails I found my clit. The feeling was so intense I almost fell down. I put a chair there in front of the mirror to sit on and continued.

I was massaging the nub having such feelings that I cannot describe. I used my other hand to probe my wet vagina. Just as I did this I heard John groan. He was starting to wake up. I dashed over to the bed and lay next to John. He smelled good to me. I didn’t notice that before, even when John was my mount. At this point I didn’t care about values; I wanted to be laid. I started playing with John’s cock. It didn’t take a 22-year-old long to stand up. Even when he was confused and dazed, his dick was on autopilot. I straddled him and mounted him slowly easing his erection into my wet hungry pussy.

The pleasure flowed over and through me like waves on the beach. I could feel pleasure everywhere, from the tip of my head to the paint on my toenails. This was so different than feeling like all of me was one big exploding cock. Hank had said Body Hoppers prefer women for mounts because the sensations were so much more pleasurable than a man’s. I had thought that was not possible as I enjoyed sex so much. I had to confess that Hank was correct. Everything else I had ever experienced paled when compared to this. I was rocking back and forth, up and down and I felt John get a little stiffer inside me. Then I felt something warm. I knew John had blown his load. Shit, I was even hornier than before. I lay next to him and asked John to do me again. John was no Body Hopper; he was done. He fell over and started to snore.

I went back to the bathroom, and picked up where he left off. I played with the nub and the vagina, watching my breasts jiggle, eventually I could feel a quiver start in me. Even my legs would shake when I felt the wave of spasms over my entire female form. I continued until I had 10 orgasms. Think about it, I was a woman and hence multi-orgasmic. Add that I am a Body Hopper with extraordinary sexually prowess and it makes perfect sense. Even in a male mount I would go five times. I think ten is a conservative number of my ability as a woman.

In the morning we had breakfast and then we had to pack for our return. In our conversation Johns wondered what happened after he went to the rest room on the beach. He said that something slimy attacked him. I told him he stepped on a jellyfish and was confused after that for most of the evening. I gave him a hug and grabbed his package. Then I asked him if he had another round in the chamber. He shrugged his shoulders and said he felt drained. I had forgotten that I had shot 5 rounds for him before he shot the 6th round into me. Being a woman I had no such limitations. Ooo, Hank was so right, mounting a woman was so great.

Walking to the airport terminal, I could feel the tropical air on my smooth soft skin, I could feel my hair pulling on my scalp, and flowing down my back. I loved the bounce of my chest. In fact, I deliberately didn’t wear a bra under my tight cotton top so my chest would wiggle with every step. My nipples were easily seen pushing into the cotton. I could feel the sway of my walk and my hips gently rocking with each step. I deliberately hit my heels on the ground a little harder to exaggerate the movement of my titties. I loved everyone’s eyes watching me and desiring me. I smelled so good. As a man, I would catch this sort of smell for a moment and it would excite me. Now I was swimming in it, permeated with it, and my sexual tension was constant. Damn, I was close to cumming just walking as a woman.

I wondered if any other Body Hoppers would spot me, but Hank had said we were rare and male. Hank had never heard of a female hopper. Heck, I was in my fifties before being recognized as a hopper. John and I had checked in, and then sat waiting for our flight. I noticed a middle-aged man in the waiting area trying to hide that he was looking at me. I knew better, No matter how many times he looked away or at something else, his eyes came back to my body. I pretended to yawn and stretched my arms out and back, pushing my chest forward. In the process the cotton clung even tighter to my now even more prominent tits. I thought this guys eyes were going to pop out of his head.

The guy was with his family, likely on vacation. His wife was well dressed, and her appearance meticulous. But with an extra 50 pounds on her frame all that didn’t matter to me. I suppose everyone has different attractions. The man was in good shape, also well dressed, and good- looking for a guy. I just didn’t picture them together. I told John I needed a walk, he wanted to continue with his newspaper and so I left. I walked up and down the terminal making my hips move just a little more and keeping great posture when I walked by that man and his family. I got the effect I wanted. I could see that man’s eyes following my every movement.

We finally got on the plane and I was getting my ride back to the mainland. It was a long flight, but I passed the time by looking at my new body parts. I concentrated on feeling my nipples while looking at them. They were sensitive I could even feel the fabric on them. I would then adjust myself in the seat and see how I could shape my cleavage in each position. I rubbed my flanks feeling the taper of my figure. I moved my hips slowly from one side to the other feeling the top of my hips and the curve at my waist. Looking at my long small hands with the length exaggerated by the long red fingernails was something of a rush.

I liked the way my skirt pulled up when I sat down. I could see my great legs. Somehow they stayed together without much effort by me. The body had retained some habits. I crossed my legs. I could feel my hips flare just a little in the process. When I had tried this as I man it was most uncomfortable. I was not flexible enough to do that plus my goods were smashed in the process. As a woman it was easy, and there were no goods to smash. In fact if I rocked my legs it was rather pleasing. I smoothed my skirt down and admired my hands again.

I finally noticed the wedding band and engagement ring set on my left forth finger. It was a chip of a stone; at once I knew it was 0.19 carets. At that, the cost was a stretch for John, I, err-Debbie didn’t have a job. The realization that this couple was not well off hit me. They were already past their financial limits for the honeymoon. Well, even in rags Debbie’s body was smoking. I looked at the rings again. I knew of Debbie’s pride in that chip; to her it was huge.

Having looked down at my cleavage for hours I wanted to touch. I excused myself and went to the rest room. Once the door was locked, I pinched my nipples and made them stand up. Oh, this was fun. After squeezing my firm mounds a few times I pulled off my top. Damn those things were so proud, so firm, so rubbery. The frame they were mounted on was a fine chassis. I put my hands on my hips and moved my upper torso so as to jiggle my hooters. Needles to say one thing led to another until I took care of myself. Even so, I wanted the real deal. I dressed up and admired myself another time. Everything looked great.

I opened the door and standing there waiting was that guy who had been staring at me in the terminal. When he saw me, his eyes instantly were riveted to my breasts. He didn’t even notice me reaching around him. I grabbed him and pulled him into the miniscule rest room rotating him around so I could close the door. Before he could speak, I put one of his hands on a boob. He got busy fast, and I was lapping it up. I was already charged up and this was sending me higher. I reached down, opened his fly, and released the snake from its confines. His snake was ready to strike. I lifted my skirt and somehow even in the tight quarters, he did me standing up. Filling this hot pussy made me go wild. He finished way too soon. He left without a word. I cleaned up and then left myself.

Back at my seat John made a comment about how long I had been. I told him I was airsick and had to stay in the rest room until now. He held my hand and said he hoped the flight ended soon. Not soon enough for me, I wanted more action. I tried to calm down, as I doubted much more could be had at the moment.

Well, we got back to Los Angeles, and found our way home. I tried to get John to perform, but he was tired. In the morning I tried again, but without result. He went to work, and I was supposed to go out looking for a job. I didn’t know if I wanted to do that, I thought about moving on. Work wasn’t expecting me until tomorrow, so I thought I would have a little “girl time” first. I was back in LA, so at least I was home. I dressed in the shortest mini-skirt she had with a matching panty. Adding a halter top and heels I was ready to go. It was time for the mall to open and I was ready for some lingerie shopping. I got the keys to her piece of junk car and the next thing I knew I was trying on all manner of sexy stuff.

If I liked it I put it on and took all kinds of poses in the mirror. I could put my hips to the side, give a view down my cleavage, it was wild. When I was married every time I had asked my ex to try on anything sexy for me all I heard about was what a “perv” I was and she would never wear anything like that. By now I knew, what she meant was she would not - for me. Things were different now. If I wondered how a pose would look I could see it instantly without begging. I could look as long as I wanted. Everything looked great on this body. I especially liked one black silk corset like night ware that showed my fine figure. I amused myself by taking in several repeated deep breaths squeezing her boobs up spilling them over the top of the corset with each breath. After an hour of this with all sorts of sexy garments, the clerks were expecting me make a purchase. Before I left, I filled out a job application.

I drove to the hotel where I had become Brad. I parked and sashayed to the desk. I liked the stir I created. The clerk was looking down my top all the time I was talking, except when he was looking at my legs of course. I asked if some male clothes including a blue suit had been found the previous Saturday in the rest room. I explained that I was Frank’s friend and he had changed at the wedding and left his clothes including his watch and wallet. Without even looking up, he said the custodian had turned them in and he would get them. He didn’t even ask for proof of my story.

Being a great looking babe, no one questioned me, men stopped and held doors, men would smile at me and say hello, folks were helpful, I was given courtesy I had never known as a short man. I was dumbfounded by it. I was so use to having to fight for everything and anything. Now men were going out of their way to be helpful, pleasant, and giving without being asked and doing it with a smile. I liked this; I liked this a lot.

Perhaps, I thought, that this courtesy didn’t extend to getting a job. Women complain so much about the glass ceiling. I had never seen women held back, just the opposite. Corporations I had worked for went out of their way to have women in a variety of positions for appearance if nothing else. I thought women should compare themselves to a short man without a network or mentor and perhaps they would feel better off. On the other hand perhaps I would see things with a new view as well, now that I was sporting a woman’s body. At this point it didn’t matter one way or another. I didn’t want a career as a woman; I just wanted to get laid. I needed to collect my old self’s clothes. I was thinking too much.

He gave me the clothes and I looked at the wallet, it was untouched. I was dumbfounded. It was shocking to find someone this honest. I had only come to check on it for a chance to show off my new ass. I dropped the wallet and bent way over to pick it up. This was sure fun. Like I said, I liked doors being opened and people going out of their way to be helpful. I liked men smiling at me as I passed and saying hello. I liked people coming up and wanting to meet me. I liked being a sex object.

I asked who the custodian was so I could thank him properly. The clerk said he may have left for lunch, but interrupted himself, pointing to a guy in the corner. He said that was him. I went over and introduced myself. His name was Bob, and I insisted that I take him to lunch to thank him. He said he was on his way to the locker room to get his lunch, as he normally ate in the park across the street from the hotel. Great I said, “Get your lunch and we can talk a little while you eat”. I followed him into the locker room, he opened his locker, and while the door blocked his view, I took off the halter-top.

When he closed the door and looked at me, he was dumb struck. I stood on the bench. This put my tits at his face level, and I pulled his face onto them. In no time I had him lying on the bench while I rode him, giving his pole a good waxing. I enjoyed giving him a proper thank you. This was so much better than that limp handshake women usually gave when a guy did something nice. I went back to the hotel lobby, found the manager and made a big display of thanking the manager for such a “stand up” honest employee as Bob.

Next on my agenda was to see what could be done about the wedding photos. I didn’t think it was a good idea to have my face on Brad’s body starting right after the slime attack. From Brad’s memories I knew that the photographer was a friend of his, Jack. After parking Debbie’s beater I found the studio. Jack was there when I went in. He looked up and stopped what he was doing instantly. This guy must be a leg-man, his eyes went right past my great tits and down to my legs repeatedly. He asked if he could help me and I told him I was a friend of Becky’s and I was on my honeymoon and missed the wedding. I was hoping he could show me the photos as I was desperate to see everything I missed. It was just terrible that I had to miss the big event.

There was a chair across from his desk and I sat down and crossed my legs. The skirt was short and my legs were toned, smooth and looked long because of the short skirt. He made some noises about it not being professional to show the photos. At that point I spread my legs a little and was sure he got a view. I was not wearing underwear and he stopped mid sentence when he noticed.

He took the bait, and Jack told me he was just about to unload the digital photos from the memory chips and as I was a friend that had missed the wedding he would show them to me on the computer screen. He pointed to a small pile of chips next to the computer. He asked me to pull my chair over next to him. He plugged in a chip and started to show photos in chronological order. I ooed, and awed, and put on a good show. He started to occasionally reach over and touch my leg. I ignored it and so it progressed until he put his had up my skirt and leaned over to kiss me. I kissed him back and could feel his had go upstream to the spawning grounds. At that point, he picked me up and carried me to a cot in the back room.

We kissed sitting on the cot and I put my arms around him and pulled him down on me as I laid back. Once down, I just lifted my skirt and we started. I so enjoyed this.

Well, it was over way too soon. I was thinking I needed to be boned by a hopper with some staying power. Hank had said hoppers sometimes worked as teams becoming a couple. As a couple you would screw yourself senseless and then trade mounts when it was winding down and do it all over from the other side. I would have to call Hank later.

Right now my attention went back to the photographs. As the images had not been downloaded yet, I just had to grab them. I told Jack I was going to get a smoke from my purse and would be right back. I grabbed all the chips and walked out leaving Jack waiting on the cot. These would make a nice souvenir. This was just so easy.

I then walked down the street enjoying the stares from everyone as I pranced down the walk. The men would stop dead in their tracks and stare; the women would squint their eyes and seethe with jealousy. I swayed and bounced loving all of this. After getting back to the beater-mobile, I drove to another hotel close to the reception hotel. I took the bag with my clothes in it, went in, found human resources and picked up a job application. Then I found a rest room locked the stall, and sat down, slumping on the commode. I then dismounted and stood up leaving her on the commode. She was still holding the bag with my clothes and wearing my watch. I took these from her and got dressed. I left her there, job application in hand and worked my way back to the original hotel where my car had been parked. The walk back was sure different. I was invisible again and it was like the air had been let out of my sails. I found my car, paid the substantial parking fee, and drove home.

I was depressed at home, after such an intense time, just being me was so mundane. Worse yet, I had to go to work the next day. I called in just before closing time, and my boss was angry about an e-mail delivering my excuse, but at least I was not fired. I was unable to focus at work the next day. The wild weekend was occupying my mind. It was late in the day when Junior came in. That is what we called the CEO’s son, behind his back of course. He had just graduated with a MBA and his Dad tried to put him on the board of directors and make him CFO. Well the board delayed it for six months for him to get experience and made him VP of our division in the interim at a salary that was absurdly high with a sign on bonus of company stock on top of that. After the six months he did move up and continued his troublemaking on a serious level.

This kid didn’t have any business sense. By that I mean his goal was not to run the business. His goal was to gut the company. He was selling off any assets he could, firing all the long-term employees that knew the business, and cutting all maintenance. My suspicion was that by doing this the company would show increased profits that quarter, the stock price would jump, and he could exercise his options and sell all his stock. The company gutted of its employees, crippled by an eroded infrastructure, and void of needed equipment would then flounder, or be hacked up and sold off. Stockholders that didn’t sell off in the boom, would loose their butts on the bust.

My boss was sweating when that joker came by on an inspection of our area. While here I saw him go to the rest room. It was then I had a cunning idea. I went into the rest room where he was washing his hands. I grabbed him from behind with my hand over his mouth and we fell to the floor. I promptly mounted him. After blacking out and then waking up looking through his eyes, I got up and went back to finish the inspection. As I pretended to be shown around, I probed his mind. My analysis of him was on the money. He had no regard for the company, the workers; he and his Dad were going to cash out. Well, now I could help him.

I went back to his office. I called his, now my stockbroker. I exercised every option he had and sold every stock and bond he had access to. Sure they were not worth near what they would be if his plan was executed and the sale timed right, but it was still a lifetime of money to me just as it was today. Using his knowledge I opened secret numbered accounts at his favorite offshore banks. He was starting to put money out there from his salary and was getting ready to hide much of his anticipated gains, as he was not sure if lawsuits from the shareholders that didn’t sell out would strip him of it. He was hiding a lot of his Dad’s money in these accounts for the same reason. Using his codes and numbers I set up automatic transfers of all this money through many of my new accounts. This ass hole would be in for a shock the next time he looked at his accounts.

Then I had another idea on how to keep him occupied. I went back on the floor to finish my inspection. While in front of everyone I slapped one of the female workers on her ass and then rubbed it, telling her to come to my office later if she knew what was good for her. I didn’t stay to hear the fallout from that. I went back to the restroom where my clothes were left and dismounted this guy letting his body fall back like a stone. I got dressed and left as fast as I could, but made sure I picked the paper out of his pocket with the bank numbers. Back at my desk, everyone was discussing what happened. I told my boss I couldn’t work in this sort of environment and quit.

I would never have to work again. His knowledge told me he would not be able to trace the money. And to keep him busy there would be the certain sexual harassment lawsuits. On the way home I recognized the area where I had met Hank as Janice. I remembered just how hot she was. I parked the car and walked the neighborhood. I found and rang her door, but no one was home. It was late afternoon so I went to a local bar and ordered a drink. I would try the door again in a while. In general I was pleased with myself and contemplated my newfound wealth and powers.

While sitting there I thought about how when mounted how sexually excited I was. I speculated that when mounted on a male it was like interacting in a soap opera. You knew all you wanted about the characters, and could make input. It was an interactive game. You knew that you could have sex with their partner and could spend their money.

As a guy every new partner was exciting. There is something about the first time with someone. Selecting the right male mount you could have all the new encounters you could care for. Without any work or time to speak of on your part there was a woman who thought she loved you or at least your mount, eager for a romp in the sack. Yes this would charge you up sexually.

As a woman, the charge was off the scale. I would still have my male mind. That would mean the site of a pair of breasts, a great ass, the scent of perfume, the sway of the hips, the use of clothes to accent the female sex was enough to make my blood boil as it always did. Add to that, once mounted I had full access to view whatever I wanted, as long as I wanted, I could jiggle, wiggle, dress as a slut, or a fashion model. Whatever stimulated my male mind was done instantly.

Before all this, granted I could stare for a long time, but the trance did tone down. Not so when mounted. If I turned and the breasts swayed, the feeling of this would bring me back. If I crossed my legs when sitting, the feeling of my smooth thighs rubbing would focus me again. Feeling my hips sway, a brief smell of female aroma, the feel of the weight on my chest, the site of my long slender hands as I did anything, seeing anyone ogle me, there was no escape from all this. I didn’t want escape; I loved it. The arousal was persistent and unrelenting. And there was more. The feeling of the mount was there at the same time. If the woman would enjoy being looked at, that feeling was there simultaneously.

Whenever I was ready I could touch. Not only did I have the male thrill of coping a feel, at the exact same time I had the female thrill feeling the stimulus. And I knew exactly how to play as I could feel how to maximize the feeling of every touch and how to time everything. When getting laid, not only did I have all the sensations from my female mount, but also the male voyeur aspects of watching a guy fuck a bombshell. No wonder hoppers preferred to mount women.

Then Janice walked in. This was too good to be true. I checked out the rest rooms. It seemed that rest rooms are ideal for Body Hopping, and these were no exception. It was simply a matter of time before she would have to go. I sat at my table, the invisible man. Their eyes may see me, but I am dismissed and instantly forgotten. Janice went to the rest room and shortly after I walked back to the bar in her magnificent body. I felt the rush of everyone’s gaze as I flipped my long blonde hair, and selected my next sex partner. I leaned forward and gave a view over the top of my blouse of my magnificent bosom to the man sitting next to me at the bar. Rubbing my leg slowly for effect I think I was as excited as he.

I didn’t care about the lives of the body I was in nor who it touched. I stole, lied, and did whatever I wanted. Values were a faded memory, absolutely gone. So my friend, you think I have a manly face, I see from your tented groin that my face isn’t a problem.