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Message-ID: <28980asstr$982807801@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "George Carter" <gcarterofoz@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Midsummer's Nightmare Part 1/3 (George Carter)
Date: Wed, 21 Feb 2001 21:10:02 -0500
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<1st attachment, "nghtmre1.txt" begin>

This is a work of fiction.  It contains descriptions of sexual acts.  If
viewing this is illegal for you, please stop reading now.  This story is
also quite a departure from my previous efforts, and illustrates just
why would-be erotica writers shouldn't be allowed to write down
their dreams.

I'd like to thank everyone who wrote in response to my previous tales.
You've given me some ideas for future stories, and I intend to give
credit when they come out.  If you'd like to write to me about this
tale, the address is gcarterofoz@hotmail.com.

Once again, my thanks to Jane for editing and encouragement.
Enjoy!



A MIDSUMMER'S  NIGHTMARE - PART  ONE

Copyright 2001 by George Carter



*1 January 2001.  Early morning.  Sydney, Australia.*

I drifted between sleep and wakefulness.  My skin was dotted with
sweat, and the sweat smelled of rum.  I was dreaming drunken
dreams in the sultry morning humidity.  It was that hour before dawn
when the human beast is at his weakest; when most people take their
last breath; when magic happens.

One minute I was there, semi-aware of my skin soaking the cotton
sheets, and the next....

*Elsewhen, Elsewhere*

The next minute, I was standing and awake, my familiar bedroom
nowhere to be seen.  I was naked - I always sleep naked - and I was
surrounded by a thick mist.  I couldn't see what kind of a room I was
in, but my feet were telling me the floor was like fine carpeting.  I
looked around, but everything seemed indistinct, save for what I
could see of myself.  My mind was strangely unquestioning.

Another figure slowly appeared out of the mist.  A woman, with
chestnut hair down to her shoulders, wearing something white.  She
came closer, until I could see her face.  Blue eyes, lighter and clearer
than my own.  A vaguely triangular face that spent a lot of time
smiling.  A pert nose and a mouth surely made for kissing... I knew
her.  In fact, I worked for her.  Laura McAllister, my boss at Lifeline,
whom I'd taken my leave of mere hours before, when I left the
office's New Year bash.  It looked like she'd been snatched from her
bed, too, because she was wearing a t-shirt with a teddy bear motif,
bikini panties, and nothing else.  She had great legs, I noticed.

'George?  Is that you?' she asked.  Then she saw that I was unclad,
and turned her head away, embarrassed.  I figured that this had to be
a dream, so I kept right on leering at her.  There was definitely an
attraction between us.  She was a divorcee; so was I, only it wasn't
yet official.  We'd spent some time at the party gently flirting with
each other, but I didn't want to shit in my own nest by dating my
boss, and I figured she was too professional to get involved with a
subordinate.  Flirting could be a lot of fun, though.  No big surprise
that I might dream about her.

Then the fairy appeared.  Well, I didn't know what else to call it - call
her.  She looked female, I thought.  About three feet tall, in
proportion like a scale model adult, hovering in the air on little
gossamer wings, doing little dances and aerobatics in miniature,
perfect grace.

Fascinated, I edged closer to her.  She had short red hair, straight,
with a ragged fringe, albino-pale skin, and eyes... oversized, clear,
lovely pools with violet irises.  She seemed naked, I could see no
garment on her, but she had no visible nipples or genitalia.  It was as
though the female form was only a coat she was wearing... not her
real body.  She actually had two pairs of insect-like wings attached to
her back.

I closed my eyes, and laughed.  'Cool dream... I'm never going to mix
OP rum and red wine again!'

Then the fairy spoke.  'I am Moire.  My gift is to control the form of
flesh... and you, my Chosen... your stench offends me.'  She
performed a swift, intricate aerial dance, and I felt something strange,
as if my kidneys had jumped out of my body and were cleansing me
from the outside.  There was no pain, just that weird feeling, and
when it was over, I felt clean.  Clean and sober.

'Whoa', I reacted, 'Instant hangover cure.  If you could bottle that
you'd make a fortune.'

Moire didn't seem amused.  She flew closer to Laura, executed an
Immelmann and a pirouette, and addressed her.  'Approach him', she
said. 'Look at him. And be still.'  Commands.  It seemed ludicrous.
Laura was an inch taller than myself.  She could have plucked the
little fairy out of the sky with ease.  Instead, she walked towards me,
her eyes locked on my torso.  A skitter of fear ran down my spine as
I saw the almost pained expression on her face.

'George, I'm frightened.  I don't want to do this, but... I can't seem to
stop myself.'

'Don't worry about it', I replied, my voice deliberately light.  'It's only
a dream.  We know it's a dream, so we're about to wake up.  You'll
laugh about it soon.'  I hoped.

There was a sound like the tinkling of tiny bells.  Eventually I
twigged that this was Moire's laughter.  'This is no dream.  It is far
more real than your own world.  Accept your fate, my Chosen.  It
will not be unpleasant.'

That was twice she'd called me Chosen, and she hadn't addressed
Laura by name at all.  Something to keep in mind.  I didn't have long
to think about it though, as Moire dashed up in a zoom climb,  turned
back down in a split-s, and turned her commanding tone on me.
'Tear those ridiculous garments off her body.'  Just like that.

I knew she'd tell me to do something, and I was tensed, prepared to
resist.  I didn't know what to expect, but I'd envisaged some kind of
battle of wills, something I could at least fight, if not defeat.  I
couldn't have been more wrong.  My limbs started moving of their
own volition.  I was trying to call them back, but it was like she had a
direct link to my central nervous system, and my brain was
disconnected from my body.  She had control, I didn't, and that was
that.

Laura looked terrified as my hands clutched at her shirt.  'I'm sorry', I
said, 'I can't help it.'  The cold, sick horror of it  sank in the pit of my
stomach.  I'd been robbed of my free will... no, that wasn't quite
right.  I could still think, and even still talk.  I just couldn't act.

I could still think.  My mind started to race furiously.  How specific
were Moire's commands?  Did I have any room to move?

I was having trouble tearing the shirt.  My hands reached to the seam
at the left armpit, and tore at it.  Laura was sobbing.  'Don't move', I
begged her, 'I might hurt you by mistake.'  The seam was giving.  The
shirt was beginning to tear.  I looked down at my legs.  Could I move
them at all?

I tried to make my left leg fold underneath me, lose my balance and
fall.  No dice.  It wouldn't move.  Then I tried something less
ambitious.  I swiveled my foot about ten degrees.  Success!  Did that
mean gradual movements were possible?

I had to figure this out more quickly.  I'd finally started a tear in the
fabric of Laura's shirt.  I watched helplessly as a stranger's arms tore
the shirt to pieces.  Then my knees flexed, as they would not before,
and my hands reached for the panties.  If I could turn just one hand
slightly... but no.  I couldn't command them at all.

Laura was pleading now for me not to do this.  All I could do was
apologise.  She yelped with pain as I tore the panties off.  My task
complete, I stood again, and realised at once that it had been my idea
to do so.  If she made no command... after I'd completed her last
command... my body was mine to control.  File it away.

There are about fifty old Star Trek episodes where Kirk and co. are
captured by godlike aliens, and they're all the friggin' same.  Kirk's
playing for his life, he's holding a busted flush, and he bluffs like
crazy, hoping to at least find out something about his captors that he
could turn to his advantage later.  It seemed like a plan, and what
else did I have?

I turned away from Laura, who was still paralysed, to confront
Moire.  'I know what you're planning.You want me to rape her, don't
you?  For your own twisted amusement.  In fact, you want to rape us
both.'

Her voice was softly mocking.  'What I want is for you to love your
woman.  You don't admit it, but you want her.'

I shook my head.  'Not like this.'

'Then do not resist me.  She wants you, too.  Why do you mortal
mayflies spend so much of your meagre spans denying yourselves?
Love her.  You will attain your desire, and amuse me at the same
time.'

'No.'

'Then I will force you.  Do not bring me to anger.  I could easily
make you kill her.'

'You can force me, I know.  But I can still fight.  I'll try anything I
can think of to thwart you. I will find a way, somehow.  I will harm
myself before I harm her.'

Moire had, almost, a respectful expression. 'Let me show you what I
mean when I say that I control the form of flesh.'   She paused to
think, then started her aerial ballet again.  'Turn to face her.  Then
cease all movement.'

I had to obey.  There was absolutely nothing ambiguous about that
order.

'Both of you.  Look at each other.'

There came a kind of shimmer in the air.  Laura's body became
slightly indistinct.  Her skin was starting to move and flow as I stared
in open- mouthed horror.

She was changing, and so was I.

She became larger overall.  Her shoulders and arms became larger,
while her hips shrank.  Hair started appearing where none was
before.  Her breasts shrank, then flattened completely.  A penis was
growing rapidly from her loins.  She was changing from a lovely
woman to a handsome man.

I couldn't see myself, but I could feel many changes in my own body.
The first thing I noticed was my skin becoming more sensitive.  My
hair was tumbling down to my shoulders.  I felt physically weaker.
My equilibrium changed, so I knew my body's shape was changing.  I
could feel my new breasts pulling at my chest.

Then the emotional rush hit me.  I had a woman's body, and that
came with a completely different balance of hormones.  My mind, on
an intellectual level, was still me; but my body was trying to shout
that it was someone else.  I feared I was going to go mad.
Desperately, just for the sake of something to think,  I mused that I
wasn't Captain Kirk after all... I was the poor bastard in the red shirt
who gets to demonstrate how the monster works by getting himself
killed.

I could see that Laura now had an erection.  God help me, my own
body was responding to the sight!  It was like a warm glow,
spreading from my belly through all of my new body.  Was this the
way it was for women?  It felt... good.

Laura was fully transformed.  Her... his  erection was... big.  Bigger
than mine ever was.  I was very, very frightened.  In fact, and I'm
ashamed to admit it, I was on the verge of panic.  I was biting my
tongue to avoid screaming, and tears were running down my cheeks.
Laura was licking her/his lips absently.  Moire must have seen this;
she laughed, and told Laura s/he could move freely.  Laura started to
slowly approach me, and I was still completely unable to move.

'Don't,' I pleaded.  'Please, Laura!'  I was shocked by the sound of my
own voice, a smoky, sexy mezzo-soprano.  Then I heard Laura's new
voice - a  quiet, low baritone - and something warm and moist started
happening to me.

'How... how do you deal with it, George?  Is it like this all the time
for men?  The urge... is so strong... and you're... so beautiful.'

Beautiful?  Me?  The sheer absurdity of the idea helped me to
concentrate.  I found I was able to speak.  'The urge is strong, but
you're stronger.  Remember who you really are.  You are Laura
McAllister, and you don't have to do this.'

Big fat hope.  I didn't believe it myself, so how could I expect him
to?  He was going to stick that thing in me, and when he did, there'd
be nothing left of my identity.  I was terrified.  I could feel my grip on
sanity loosening.

Then he touched me.  A hand on my cheek, the other in my hair, and
oh lord, it felt so good.  He towered over me, but he was gentle, and
I almost let go, and the only thing that saved me was that thing of his
poking me in the belly.  The fear returned, and it cleared my head,
and I decided it was better to bend than  to break.

'Moire', I called, 'I'll be good.  I'll do as you ask.  Willingly.  Change
us back... please... and I'll love her for you.'  I was sobbing.  'Please...
I'm begging you.  I can't...'

When it happened, it surprised both Moire and me.  Laura's face
darkened, his teeth bared, and his hand moved quicker than I could
see, and there was a red explosion in my face, and I fell to the floor,
such as it was.

I was curled up in a fetal position, trying to deal with the wave of
pain from my cheek, and the blood from where my teeth had
betrayed me, tearing the soft flesh.  I couldn't see. I was crying like a
baby.  I could move again, but I was no less helpless than before.
Laura could break my neck like a twig with that new body, if he'd a
mind to.  I was sure he did have a mind to.

I waited for the end.  Such a stupid, worthless, hopeless way to die.

END PART ONE




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