From JCMeier@aol.com Wed Mar 26 21:52:59 1997
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From: JCMeier@aol.com (Jodie)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg
Subject: TG Repost-Altered States
Date: Thu, 27 Mar 1997 02:52:59 GMT
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From: b1223@ix.netcom.com (b1223 )
Subject: Lisa's TG Library: "Altered States"
Date: 3 Sep 1995 19:47:44 GMT
Didn't write it, not responsible for it. Enjoy! NOTE: This story says
it is part "II" of a series. I do NOT have any other parts. If you do,
please either email them to me or post them for inclusion in the
library. Thanks!
-Lisa Blades :)
Altered States II
by Sue
******
THE INTRODUCTION
David Novak, age 38, height 5'7", weight 171 pounds, brown
eyes, sandy grey blond hair. He lives in house in a suburb, is
married, and has three children. He is currently a general
manager of a division with a Fortune 200 company. On the
outside, a typical Yuppie who drives a BMW, is up for a
promotion to vice-president, works out three times a week, and
even finds time to coach his son's little league baseball team.
He has a undergrad degree from the University of Connecticut and
an MBA from Wharton. He is on the fast track, and with the next
promotion with join two others in the hunt for the CEO's job in
about 15 years.
Sandra Rayman, age 24, height 5'3", weight 109 pounds, blue
eyes and blondish hair. She lives in a one bedroom apartment in
the city with her husband, an electrician. She is currently a
secretary with David Novak's company and in fact works for his
number 2 guy. She has a high school education, and two years in
a business college. She has no children.
DAY ONE
Sandra hears the alarm going off, and pulls the covers over
her head for just a little more sleep. Sleep she needs, because
last night Bobby came home from bowling after too many beers and
demanded sex in his usual fashion. Sex in the usual fashion
meant he climbed into bed in his jockey shorts, ran his hand
over her breast for a few seconds, slobbered some kisses, and
then shoved her head down to his crotch. Then after some
ministrations, she would roll over, hitch her night gown, spread
her legs and guide him in. After a few minutes he would finish,
roll off of her, and sleep. Within minutes, his snores would
begin, and for Sandra another night without sound sleep and much
tossing and turning.
Finally giving in the incessant buzzing, she rolled out of
bed and went to the kitchen to make some coffee. While it was
brewing, she returned to the bedroom and started to pick up his
clothes which he had strewn on the bed and the floor. His
shirts, socks, shoes, pants, and finally the jockey shorts.
Moving to the closet, she dumped them in the hamper. Finally
she moved into the bathroom, and faced the mirror. Before her
was the same face she saw every morning. Not a beautiful face,
nor an unpleasant one, just an average face with average looks.
Reaching for her brush, she started to stroke her hair and
arrange it, and then rearrange it. It was fairly long, about
four inches below her shoulders, and she wore it in fashion like
most of her friends, kinda wild, kinda long, kinda teased. A
big hair, she had once been told.
Looking at the mirror, she made a frown and then left to get
her first cup of coffee. As she passed the bed, her husband
rolled from his side to his back. Looking down at him, she
smelled the stale odor of beer, she saw the beginnings of the
beer belly he was working on, the hair that covered his chest
and arms and legs, the thick penis and the heavy balls. He was
still as strong and muscular as he had been in high school when
she had first met, the football player and one of the toughest
kids in school. She remembered their first date a dance after a
game her sophomore year when he had been the football hero and a
senior, the early dating, the excitement of having a guy, and
then the marriage. Like a flashback, she sipped her coffee and
remembered in a continuous stream all the times, places, and
things, and she wondered. She should have to a real college,
should she have stopped seeing him when he told her that if she
didn't put out, he would stop asking her out, and when he asked
her to marry him was it because she had missed a period and told
him, or did he really care, did he really love her, and was this
all that life about. Married to an electrician, living in a
one bedroom apartment, knowing that the chance of a house was
slim and none, knowing that one day she would stop taking the
pill, get pregnant, have one, then two, then three babies all on
an electricians salary. Some future, she thought to her self.
Moving to the bathroom, again, she reached into the shower
and turned the water on, and then set the coffee down on the
vanity. Crossing her arms in front of her she pulled the cotton
nightgown over her shoulders and then hooked it on the hanger on
the back of the door. One more sip of coffee, and she walked
into shower. Feeling the water run down her shoulders and
across her back, she began to lather and wash. As she did so,
her mind returned to its musing on the state of her life. She
was a secretary, married to a guy who had every trait of a crumb
bum, feeling constricted in the small glass shelled shower, she
continued to wash and then shampoo her hair. As she worked the
lather into hair, she wondered what it would be like to be
different. She was no feminist, she didn't want to be a man or
even one of those tight assed professional women or executives
who try to be a guy in a skirt. As she worked the conditioner
through her hair, she started to think about Ms. Noyes the on
track professional tight ass who was angling to get Novak's job
when his next promotion came through. Noyes bothered her with
her suits, her white blouses and silly little bow ties, her
Ellen Tracy's and her Nippon's, her fancy English trench coat,
and her leather brief case. What a pain she thought, what a
pain.
******
Sixty miles away in a fashionable suburb, Novak rose from
bed to the aroma freshly brewed coffee brought to him by his
wife. Sitting up in the bed, he thought to himself today was
the day. After fifteen years, he was on the verge of the vice
presidency and with it, the knowledge that he had made the cut.
he and four others, from the group that had been hired
originally, were now in the final stages of the competition for
CEO. The timing had been right, the performance of his division
had been at the top and in the last quarter had been the only
bright spot in the entire company. Today he met with the CEO,
and would be handed the veep spot, a raise, stock options, a new
car, a new office, and renewed ambition.
Looking across the bedroom, he was filled with a sense of
accomplishment from the spacious bedroom room with a view of the
lake behind the house, to the expensive furniture, to his wife
whom he saw reflected in the mirror on the wall opposite the
bed. For David, life was just getting better. Rising from the
bed he moved into the adjoining dressing room and slipped up
behind his wife. Slowly cupping her buttocks in his hands, he
nibbled at her ear and felt the heat rising instantly within
her.
She turned around to fold within his arms, and feel the
pressure of his body as it rubbed against her in that familiar
pattern. Before he could make another move, she pulled away and
reminded him that he had to hurry if he was going to make the
early train and be on time for his meeting with the boss.
******
Sandra had finished with her shower, and had begun to roll
her hair into the hot rollers that had been heating while she
washed. Standing at the vanity, she hadn't heard her husband
rise from bed and she felt his presence. While she rolled a
lock of hair into a roller, he stood behind her and cupped her
breasts with his heavy calloused hands. She felt him as he
moved into tightly behind her with a morning erection pressed
into the crack between her buttocks. She smelled his breath a
combination of the cigars and beer from the night before, and
the nauseating residue of a nights sleep with a brushing.
Pulling away from him, she hissed to leave her be since she
was late for work. He slapped her across the buttocks, and
warned her that if he felt like it she would be on her knees
sucking his cock. Knowing that he was in a foul mood, she stood
silently staring down at the vanity afraid to look into the
mirror and see his reflection, see his glare. Again she felt
him as he moved up against her and began his grind. Then she
felt the pressure on her shoulder and waist, as he turned her
and pressed her down on her knees.
In front of him, she looked up at his erection, at the blue
veins which coursed though the head of his penis, and she opened
her mouth as he moved the shaft toward her parting lips. She
hated this, this feeling of powerlessness, or being merely a
thing to service him. But she played with him, moving her hands
up to cup his balls, and her tongue around the thick shaft.
abruptly he moved away, and left her down on her knees. "Gotta
piss," he said as moved into bathroom. Soon she heard the
strong stream of water as it poured out of him and then the
series of farts which turned her stomach.
Quickly she moved to finish her rollers, and then began to
apply her makeup. She heard the water start in the shower, and
she applied first her base and powder, and then moved to her
eyes. As he showered, she finished her makeup, and then went
into the bedroom to begin dressing. Cotton panties and bra, a
half slip and pantyhose were picked from two drawers which
pretty much contained the same things only in different colors.
then to the closet and the skirt and blouse. Lately she had
taken to wearing longer skirts, ones which ended an inch or two
above her knees instead of the mini's which she has worn for
years.
******
The 7:13 pulled into the station only two minutes late, as
he disembarked David lit a cigarette and began to walk towards
the exit and then to his office. Feeling the eager anticipation
of his sure to be promotion, and the renewed self importance
that came with it; he found himself walking at a slightly faster
pace and at the same time eyeing people from all directions.
Normally he walked with his head sort of hanging low,
concentrating on the work to be done, the assignments to be
made, the strokes where necessary, and the kicks where
appropriate. Spending the time walking and seeing was a luxury
he had never permitted himself until now. As he wended his way
through the crowd, he noticed for the first time people begging
for a handout for clothing, home, a job, and religion. he heard
a saxophone in the distance playing "Stranger on the Shore," and
he found himself noticing people as they rushed from the station
out onto the sidewalks, and then into the fury of cabs, cars,
buses, bicycle delivery boys, and pedestrians.
A few blocks from the station, he neared the entry of a
subway and saw the outpouring of secretaries, stenos, salesman
and women. The working people of the city who lived near a
subway and fought their way to work on a daily basis. People he
had never really noticed. One of the faces emerging from the
stairway was familiar, a girl, she looked as though she should
be someone he knew but he couldn't quite place the face.
He found himself staring at her, at the hair which seemed
teased and sprayed to a limit, at the cheap raincoat with the
torn hem, at the heels and straps at her ankles. For some
reason a strange and unique thought began to form in his mind, I
wonder, he thought to himself, what it would be like to be her
and not me.
******
THE ALTERATION OF STATES
Just as he mentally spoke the words, he began to feel
different. He was in the wrong place, his feet felt strange,
his legs stretched somehow, he felt smaller, and colder. He
turned as if someone had called his name, and then he saw
himself. It was an out of body experience, what do they call it
deja vu? He began to hyperventilate and feel faint, he leaned
against the window and watched as he saw himself just walk by.
He started to shake, and someone asked him if he was okay. He
couldn't speak. He could nod and shake his head no. The
stranger stopped and took him by the arm for a minute, and asked
if he could help. Catching his breath and his bearings, he said
no, but thank you. His voice was different, he was speaking but
the words were coming from a different body, from a different
human machine, and they sounded as though they came from a
stranger spoken in a city accent that he heard so many times and
looked down on.
He had caught his breath by then, and walked into the coffee
shop. His brain had started to catch up with him by now, and a
sense of panic was beginning to build. Basic questions like who
am I, what happened, what do I do now, where am I going. The
thought of the Vice presidency has been expunged, survival now
as issue. He was in someone else's body, but he was without
that person's memory and knowledge. He didn't know who he was.
As he sat at a booth, he noticed for the first time that he
had a purse, a large purse in fact. And like a starving man
sitting at a dinner table before an array of food, he dug into
the purse. The wallet, he thought, that will tell me a lot. He
had never known why it took so long for a woman to get something
out of her purse, now he knew. Brush, comb, hair spray, tampax,
makeup, keys, there it was the purse. Opening it he looked for
a driver license, and found it. Sandra Rayman, age 24, height
5'3", weight 109 pounds, blue eyes and blondish hair. She lived
at 1333 W. High Street, great neighborhood he thought, apartment
3f. Then he found an employee identity card, my god she works
in my division, but where he thought.
With that a waitress approached and asked if he was ready to
order. Coffee, he said, just a cup of coffee. With a smirk, the
waitress turned and walked away. As she did, he say back and
started to assess where he was and what he was going to do. For
the first time he began to notice the changes in his body, in
how he felt, and what he was wearing. The shoes were three inch
heels with a strap he could feel. His legs seemed bound and
tight, the pantyhose he assumed. He could feel the bra, the
straps on his shoulders, and the strap on his back. the sense
of being uncovered filled him as the realization that he was
wearing a skirt and not pants dawned on him. And the body
itself, smaller, lighter, not as filled out and heavy. The
freedom in the legs surprised him, but wearing a tight skirt in
the waist, hips, and thighs felt strange.
Then suddenly, he could remember what he looked like. He
reached back into the purse and found a compact, he opened it
and began to study his face, and his hair; or at least as much
as he could with such a small mirror. He thought about going to
the men room and looking in the mirror, but by then the waitress
had brought the coffee given him a look and then left. He
looked around the room, and saw that other than the waitresses,
he was the only woman, and one guy was staring at him. he
started to stare back, then noticed the guys eyes were actually
directed under the table. My god he thought, the guy is looking
at my legs, then he knew better. His legs were spread, and he
was shooting a beaver at the guy. He closed his legs, and
tucked them under the chair.
Okay now what do i do he thought. Money, wait a minute, he
looked in the purse and found subway token and some loose change
in the coin pocket, in the billfold he found a $5 and a few
$1's. He looked for a checkbook, and found it. Balance less
than $38. He finished the coffee, left a $1 tip and paid for
the coffee. Walking out the restaurant, he found his breath had
returned, that the cold air felt better, and that he was better
at walking than he should be. He decided that the motor skills
of the body he inherited were female, but that his brain was
male. The next question was whether he should go to work or
not, and the question after that was where did he work and what
did he do.
He decided to go to work.
******
Walking into the high rise that he had previously strode
into, he began to feel the sense of panic deep within him build
once again especially as he remebered he was to meet with his
boss and get his promotion. Desperately he looked at his watch,
9:45 the time for the meeting was 9 am, my god he thought what
had happened. He rushed into an elevator and pressed 50, the
number would light. He hit again, and again, then he remember
to insert the card. But he didn't have a card, he wasn't him.
Intuitively he pressed 45, his floor and the door closed.
riding up in the elevator he began to pace the floor, and to
wonder what was said when he didn't show up, then as he began to
think of his wife and children he began to sweat and hyper
ventilate. He hadn't thought about them all morning, how was he
going to explian this. Who would ever believe him. the door
opened and he stepped out. As he did so he saw himself walking
down the corridor in the midst of three other executives. Then
he heard himself say, "Miss Rayman, would you please meet me in
my office now."
Swallowing hard and looking up at the men before him, he
couldn't even respond before they walked right past him. He
turned to the left, and started back to his office. as he
approached it, his secretary Carol said "Hi Sandra, you are late
and Mr. Novak was looking for you." Carol seemed to treat him
like just another person, when she usually fawned all over him.
The tone in her voice was commanding and criticizing, who did
she think she was, he thought, then he remebered who he was and
asked if it was okay to wait in his office. she related the
conversation she had just had with "Mr. Novak" and was told to
wait outside the office until he sent for her.
He was just standing, and looking out over the office. He
saw secretaries typing, filing, and answering phones. He saw
men scurring around with other men or standing together talking.
he noticed the slight fear as "Novak" approached, the slight
parting of the way as moved through the office. "Come in
Sandra," he said as he walked past her into the office.
He followed behind him, and watched as he moved behind the
desk and sat in the chair. He moved over to the guest chair,
and took a seat. He was speechless.
"Novak" leaned back in the chair, and crossed his legs.
"Nice office, isn't it " he said. "And a nice promotion, I just
got. VP, in the hunt as they say for the top spot. Carlisle
thinks I am just great."
Sitting before him, watching him speak with his voice, wear
his clothes, be him, he started to crack. Only anger didn't
boil up inside him, fear and more fear rose like a bile from
deep within him. He couldn't speak.
"I like this," Novak said, "it is much better being you than
being me." "But I think we are going to have to work together
now, and that will be good for both of us. By the way, do you
have any idea how this happened?"
FIN