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"I'm a prisoner here and they've stolen my body." That's the first line in The Change, the published version of a journal found in 2010 at the back of a shallow cave in the red rock desert of southern Utah. It chronicles the experience of David Crosley, a young musician who discovers himself alone in the desert in a woman's body, or was he always a woman now deluded in believing she had ever been a man? He/she uses the journal to retrace the past in an effort to regain true identity, and in the process remembers encountering a group of highly sexual female shamans on a quest to change the world, metaphysical magic, a free energy machine, political intrigue and gender bending sexual fantasy. The result is a self indulgent page turner which analyzes gender identity and the metaphysical nature of the universe we live in.
ISBN: 978-1470199357 Available in stores and Amazon.com || CreateSpace || Kindle (ebook) The first 20 pages appear below
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The following manuscript was discovered in 2010 by a group of boy scouts hiking in the remote desert of
southeastern Utah, USA. It was handwritten in three spiral notebooks and found inside a plastic bread bag at
the back of shallow cave. I'm a prisoner here. And they've stolen my body. I don't know why I'm writing this. I'm never going to get out of here. Maybe that's why I'm writing, so someone will eventually find out what happened to me. I feel like I have to do something, to at least vent in some way to get this endless stress out of me because sitting here alone for months is driving me crazy. I seriously think I may have lost my mind already. In fact I'm sure I'm totally nuts because what seems real to me is impossible. My name is David Crosley, I think. At least I remember being that person three years ago, or think I remember. I'm sitting naked in the hot sun in the desert, on a pink and white aluminum lawn chair, looking down at breasts and a vagina. I have become completely accustomed to having this beautiful, female body, but I can't see my face and don't know what I look like. Believe me, that's enough to drive anyone insane. There's no doubt about it now. I have to be crazy. I have to get a grip on reality somehow. What do I know is real? I'm sitting on the edge of a rock outcrop near the top of a narrow box canyon with smooth, reddish-brown rock walls and very little plant life, just a few scrubby bushes and a splattering of thorny green weeds that spread out in clumps across the rocky ground. A small camp trailer painted in desert camouflage is sitting on a wide ledge fifty feet below and to my right. I remember watching a group of people lower the trailer over the cliff using a wench and cable attached to a large, black SUV. There were about six people, and now I can remember helping to put the trailer in place. My god! I helped build my own prison cell. From up here I can see for miles to the south and east -- nothing but a tangle of eroded rock chasms impossible to cross on foot. There are purple mountains to the northeast, and a tall plateau far to the west, but both lie beyond an ocean of grey sand hills eroded into long, sloping pyramids nearly impossible to climb. The sand slides out from underfoot, making every step exhausting and producing very little headway. I tried to hike out over those sand hills and didn't get half a mile before I realized I could die of heatstroke if I didn't return to the trailer. I was lucky to get back alive. Yeah, she picked this place carefully to insure I couldn't escape. Yes. "She." That woman is the cause of all this, of me not being me and being imprisoned out here till my mind has become mush. Cheryl. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen, but also a real life witch. I'm guessing she's about 45-years-old, but generally looks 25, and sometimes looks like she's 90. Oh god, you don't want to deal with her when she looks old, 'cause that's when she's a personification of pure evil. Mean. Cruel. Wicked. Spiteful. Ready to tear one's heart out, literally, if she thinks it might make her feel better on a bad day. Oh, but on a good day . . . true perfection. Even now I lust after her. Thin curvy body, nice firm tits, impossibly small waist, long black hair down to her cute round butt, caramel-colored skin as soft as milk weed fluff, and big, deep green eyes that look like they were stolen from an Egyptian cat. She uses those eyes as a weapon, as a snare to seduce her victims into a trance where they become oblivious to everything but her, only to snap out of it later and realize she has taken everything she wanted and given nothing in return. Yet still her victims come back for more, just as I did, over and over, till I grew some balls and stood up to her, only to end up here without any. That's the part of this whole experience that repeatedly breaks my sanity. I know I am a guy. I have memories going back to early childhood, but then I look down at my body and see someone else. If I look long enough, I feel like someone else, like the woman whose body I possess. But I have no memory of being a woman till my memory of being a man ends a couple years ago. I was somehow transformed into a different person, and now I am neither of those people because I am a man in a woman's body. Well, there are times when I feel that I have always been female, but those are scary moments because that's when I forget I am really a man and become the pawn Cheryl molded me to be. I'm imprisoned here because I refused to forget who I am. Being stuck in this body makes it hard to remember I am a man, and I sometimes find myself believing my whole problem is caused by believing I ever was a man, which is "obviously" impossible because everyone is one way or the other for life. That problem totally freaked me out today. I woke up sort-of groggy this morning, climbed down from my little bed above the table in the trailer, and when I went to the chemical toilet to pee I unconsciously lifted the seat up and reached for my unit, which wasn't there. That's when I noticed it had been about two weeks since I last remembered I am really David Crosley. I was overwhelmed with anxiety and the fear that I might forget who I really am forever. Moments later I realized it had been two weeks since my last delusion of being a man whose body has been magically transformed into that of a sexy blond in her mid-twenties. I don't know which is real, and that's why I started writing all this stuff, because I am desperate to figure this out. I need to write down the facts that don't change. I don't know what my face looks like because there are no mirrors here, no polished metal surfaces, and no standing water anywhere that might create a reflection. But I can see my curly blond hair hanging almost to my elbows, and this body is damned sexy, particularly these nice d-cup boobs, which I have to admit I play with every day. I don't have periods, and what is even more strange is I can't remember ever having one. I have been here since mid-spring and it is now approaching autumn. There is a large propane powered refrigerator behind the trailer which is miraculously restocked about once a week. I have tried to catch someone as they bring supplies in, even rigging pots and pans to fishing line to act as an alarm, but so far I have yet to see another soul since I arrived here. This confusion all began when I met Cheryl, so that's what I need to look at to see what really happened to me. I was playing bass in a cover band, doing a gig at a bar in Moab, Utah. I noticed Cheryl when she first walked in and was so shocked by her sensual beauty I lost my place in the song and totally screwed up. Everyone noticed the bass drop out, including Cheryl, who looked at me and lustfully licked her upper lip. I had to look away just to remember what I was doing. Those brilliant green eyes and half open mouth created an image that is still burned into my mind. I have never wanted anyone so bad in my life. I kept watching her as we played the rest of the set but she never looked my way again. She was with two younger women dressed in shorts and tank tops, but she was wearing a slinky, short black dress and heels. During the break I deliberately walked past their table several times, and though the other girls looked at me every time I couldn't catch her eye. We were playing the last set when I realized she was deliberately avoiding me, but not because she wasn't interested. She watched me almost constantly I think, but looked away every time I glanced in her direction. She was intentionally acting uninterested. I have no patience with any sort of head games, so figuring she was simply being a tease I started ignoring her. Another girl had been flirting with me all night and we exchanged a bit of conversation between songs, eventually getting to the point where it seemed likely we'd hook up when the bar closed. That girl was talking to me as I wiped down my white, '74 Rickenbacker bass and put it back in its case. When I stood up and turned around she was being escorted away by the two women who had come in with Cheryl, who was now standing in her place. "What's going on?" I asked. "She's not the one you are most interested in," she said as she looked down at her body, slowly sliding her hands across her waist and hips, smoothing her thin black dress over her firm thighs. Then she looked up at me with those green eyes smoldering like emerald coals, saying, "I can take you places she can't even imagine." I wanted to protest that she had no right to interfere with my life but I knew she was right. Just the look in her eyes had already taken me to a place I had never been. I felt her gaze going through my eyes, pausing in my heart and expanding down to my groin. Then she stood with her feet apart, placed her hands on her hips, stretched her back so her fine, firm boobs stood up like mountains begging to be climbed, and said, "Care to join us for a swim in my pool? There's also a hot tub if you prefer." The thought of being naked and rubbing bodies with those three gorgeous women caused an uncontrollable sigh to escape from my mouth. "I have to help pack up the gear," I said, "and I kind of have a date with that woman who was just here." "I think she's already been invited to join us," she said, nodding toward the three girls, who were making out with each other in the corner. I could clearly see hands moving under the third girl's top as the other two were kissing her face and neck. "OK," I laughed. "I think I am definitely up for a swim tonight." I told the rest of the band I would meet them at our motel room in the morning and they all shook their heads mumbling about how unfair it was after I told them they weren't invited. I suppose I should have asked if they could come but it isn't every day that a guy gets to hang out in a pool with four really hot babes. I helped load my heavy bass cabinet and other gear into the van, then climbed into the back of a big, black SUV with the four women. The seats in the center were turned backwards so we could all face each other, and a curtain prevented me from seeing who was driving. "I'm Cheryl. That's Tammy with her hand up your friend's skirt, and this is Debbie." Debbie planted a big, tongue filled kiss on me while grabbing my crotch. "You're right again," she said to Cheryl. "It's nice." "Who's your friend?" Cheryl asked. "Barbara," said the girl I had been talking with. "Tonight you can call me Barbie 'cause I feel like being someone's toy." We all laughed. Barbara (scratched out). Barbie was from somewhere in the Midwest and had come to Moab with two roommates from college to float the Colorado River and do some biking. Her friends had met a couple guys and gone rock climbing for the weekend, leaving her behind because she was afraid of heights. She was the least attractive of the four women, but still very pretty. Tall and thin, about five-nine, long, straight blond hair but basically no tits. She seemed like an air head to me. We drove north out of town then east along the Colorado river a short way, then took a dirt road south for several miles, winding along the bottom of a narrow gorge which appeared to follow a small stream as the road climbed higher and higher. Not far from the top of the plateau was Cheryl's house, an obviously expensive, low adobe rambler, much larger inside than it appeared from the front. The moment we entered the front door Debbie and Tammy both pulled off their clothes, tossing them carelessly on the floor as they raced toward the pool one floor down behind the house. Barbie and I smiled shyly at each other. "Take off your clothes," Cheryl said as casually as if asking us to pass the salt at a dinner table. Barbie was naked before the other two girls hit the water and went running after them. Seeing all that fine tits and ass had aroused me and I didn't want to expose my enthusiasm out in the open like that, so I hesitated. "It's OK. Take off your clothes," Cheryl said, again in that very casual tone, but there was something commanding about it. I found myself getting slowly undressed while she stood there watching me carefully, her eyes slowly scanning every inch of my body. That was the first time I noticed something "not normal" about Cheryl. I couldn't tell exactly what it was, but it seemed that even when she asked someone politely to do something, it wasn't a request, but a demand which could not be refused. It seemed that any resistance one may have felt initially would suddenly become "irrelevant" and no longer make any sense, so you would simply do what she asked without much deliberation. Whatever she requested seemed like the right thing to do. After standing in front of Cheryl stark naked for perhaps a full minute, she asked me to help her bring drinks out to the pool. I remember going downstairs to the bar, getting ice out of the refrigerator and feeling the cold air move across my skin as I closed the door, standing naked in front of a complete stranger in a strange house where I didn't really know anyone. A sense of apprehension came over me, which Cheryl must have noticed. "It's alright," she said, smiling and looking me straight in the eye. All my discomfort instantly vanished. "Go join the girls. I'll be with you in a moment." I brought the tray of drinks to the hot tub and slid down into the warm, bubbling water, watching the three girls in the swimming pool laugh and squirm together in a constantly changing group hug. Different body parts -- heads, breasts, butts, arms and legs -- constantly emerged from the water with smooth skin and bikini tan lines shining with different colors in the glow of constantly changing pool lights. It was the most sexually stimulating thing I had ever seen and I was so hard I thought I would explode. Eventually the girls all decided they wanted to get good and drunk so they climbed over the narrow, tiled wall separating the pool from the hot tub and joined me. Cheryl was nowhere to be seen. Tammy has dark brown hair, dark skin and a tiny little body less than five-feet tall and definitely under a hundred pounds, but the first thing anyone would notice about her is her huge boobs, at least an F-cup and obviously fake, though I had plenty of time to play with them and they felt plenty real to me. I couldn't believe anyone so small could have such huge tits and it was impossible not to stare at her. She seemed like a hard core party girl to me, and when I asked what she did for a living she said she was a cosmologist. "You mean cosmetologist, a hair and makeup person, don't you?" "No. A cosmologist. I make charts of stars, nebula and other celestial objects. I received my doctorate from UC Berkley." I suppose I had a dumbfounded expression on my face because they all broke out laughing at the same time. Debbie is tall and thin, with almond-colored skin and narrow eyes reflecting a widely mixed racial background. Her dark hair is cropped short and cute, longer on the sides than in back, which accentuates her thin form. She looks "pretty" at first, but the longer I looked at her the more beautiful she became. When I asked what she did she said, "I work with numbers." "Me too," said Barbie. "I'm going for an associates in accounting." It wasn't till much later that I discovered Debbie is a mathematician and theoretical physicist who once worked for NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory. Though tall and skinny, Barbie is the only "normal" looking girl in the bunch. She has dyed blond hair, blue eyes that are always smiling and almost no boobs. She is attractive but certainly no movie star. The four of us were getting quite a buzz going and with me being the only male I was getting plenty of much appreciated attention in the hot tub. It wasn't till Cheryl showed up again that I realized she had been absent for over an hour. She came out into the patio area carrying a tray of burning candles and wearing a sheer, silk, full length flowing gown covered with images of elves and fairies dancing among moonlit mountains and trees. She looked stunning, sophisticated, almost other-worldly, and seemed to be in an almost meditative trance. Her movements were slow and graceful, and as she placed the tray of burning candles on the tiled floor before her the moon went behind a cloud and she seemed to light up the patio with a light coming from within. The rest of us fell quiet and simply watched as she arranged the candles in a wide circle around her. That's when I noticed the patio tiles there had been laid to form a circle radiating out from the center. Thin metal strips divided the circle into twelve, pie-shaped sections and the ring of outer tiles had been embossed with what appeared to be astrological symbols and animal shapes. Tammy and Debbie got out of the tub and dried themselves then handed towels to Barbie and I, so we also got out and sat with the others just outside the circle, while Cheryl remained within. Tammy removed a cork from the spout of a small, crudely decorated clay jar and handed it along with five, very small bowls to Cheryl, who carefully poured a very small amount of clear liquid into each bowl, set one in front of each of us, then stepped out of the circle to take her place on the outside. She left the jar sitting in the center then began to speak quietly. "These bowls contain a small amount of a mild psychedelic drug which has been used by shamans in South American for millennia. It produces a very relaxed but sharply aware state of mind which makes it possible to visualize internal images with great clarity. My mentor taught me how to combine using this drug with what we now refer to as hypnosis in order to cure disease. I have since learned to how to use the same techniques to improve one's body rather than simply repair damage. Tammy's breasts are an example of what can be achieved." Tammy smile shyly, then broadly and started to giggle, then forced herself to return to a more serious state of mind. Cheryl turned to me. "You are in excellent physical health," she said, "but you have a problem with your lower back which occasionally causes you discomfort." "That's amazing," I said. "How on earth can you know that?" "I can see it, as can Debbie and Tammy. We can see inside the body much like a doctor using an x-ray machine, only better. None of us are medical doctors so we can't always tell what it is we are looking at, but some of my other girls can." "There are more of you?" I asked. "Ten so far. Hopefully you and Barbara will complete the circle of twelve required to fulfill our mission." Barbie's mouth fell open, then she looked at me and shrugged her shoulders as if to say, "whatever." "And what mission is that?" I asked. Cheryl laughed, "To save the world, of course." Then Tammy and Debbie laughed with her. "And just how do you expect to accomplish that," I asked. "It's complicated," Cheryl replied, "but in a nutshell, we will bring a new morality to the world where everyone will understand that any behavior which doesn't harm others against their will is OK, even if it is stupid and self destructive. We will also convince the world that the time has come for everyone to be honest and fair, that everyone deserves the same opportunities, that reason must replace the superstitious nonsense of religion, and the same rules must apply to everyone, everywhere, which means having a single world government." "And you think just twelve people can accomplish all that?" "Don't be silly," said Cheryl. "It will take tens of millions of politically active people to see such changes implemented. But our mission is to form a group of twelve who will work with similar groups, all of us working to get the information to the masses." "People are too stupid and lazy, and for that matter, too selfish," I said. "Those who are well off don't want to change the status quo, and those who are struggling are powerless to affect the established machine. Things will never change." "What you don't understand," she said, "is that events are coming which will bring the existing socioeconomic structure to its knees. In April of 2011 the Sun, Moon and all the other planets will be together opposite Saturn. That will trigger a global social crisis such as the world has never experienced. Billions of individuals will find themselves struggling for day to day survival. The hardships will continue for several years, and if the people have the information regarding how to restructure society in a free, fair and reasonable way, that's when they will act together to make it happen." "Good luck," I said. "Luck has nothing to do with it, but you do. You are the one we've been waiting for." I laughed so hard I fell over on my side. Barbie smiled at me and giggled, but the other three were dead serious. Cheryl took me by the hand and looked into my eyes. "You may laugh now, David, but before this night is over you will understand that this is no pipe dream. There are people in the world who have almost unlimited control over society. Never before in modern history has it been possible for one individual or group to control the entire world, but technology has finally made that possible. For the first time in history one person can send orders simultaneously to followers throughout the world and exercise control everywhere at once. "And it doesn't require someone with a thousand nuclear weapons to destroy the world. One person with a thousand followers could simultaneously poison the water supplies in a thousand cities, and the next day blow up all the power transmission lines, and then take out the main gas and oil lines. The world as we know it could cease to exist in less than a week." "Wow," I said. "I had no idea how fragile our society really is." "The reason this sort of destruction hasn't happened yet, " she went on, "is because nearly everyone on this planet wants the world to be a happy, peaceful place. The problem is that huge populations have different ideas about how to go about that, and if they can't come to an agreement, when resources begin to run out there will be war, a war that will negatively affect everyone, everywhere, destroying our civilization." I glanced at the girls and they all looked frightened, naked, huddling against the chill under large bath towels. "I have to admit that what you're saying seems possible, but aren't you being a bit fanatical in your fears? Society has managed to keep going for millennia in spite of all the wars and disasters." "People have been on this planet for hundreds of thousands of years," she said, "so why does our history only go back a few thousand years? It's because we have destroyed our world repeatedly in the distant past. Some of us, through disciplined training, have access to knowledge not available to the average person, or to scientists who haven't undergone the training. We know we have failed before, and we don't want humanity to fail again. We can avoid complete disaster and usher in an almost utopian society simply by educating people about reason, freedom, fairness and opportunity. That's why I said we can save the world simply by teaching people a new morality, one that is easy for people to live up to which won't make life worse for others, but instead makes it possible for us all to live fulfilling lives." "What has that got to do with these little bowls?" I asked. "I want to show you how individuals can be completely hedonistic and excessively indulgent while still living up to a morality which can make the world a wonderful place for all of us. We are about to provide you with a sexually indulgent experience beyond your wildest imagination, while at the same time not crossing over the moral principles involved in making society as good as it can get. As long as people are fair with each other and no one is forced to participate against their will, anyone can do anything and it will not harm society in any way. "With this mild psychedelic drug and your willing cooperation to undergo hypnosis, I can give you something you have always wanted but never thought possible. I can enable you to experience having big, beautiful, firm, sensitive, sexy female breasts." Day 103 It took me two days to write what you just read. I'm sitting at the table in the trailer now looking out the window at a light rain coming down and dark clouds moving quickly toward the northeast. It's probably about 8:00 AM. I don't know what day it is, but I've been here at least three months, I think, so I thought I would start numbering the days at one-hundred. 103 means this is the third day since I started writing this. I want to point out a few things I find curious here. I have everything I need, including a big supply of beef jerky which is practically the only thing I eat, though I try to make at least one real meal each day. There are always fresh eggs and milk and various lunch meats in the propane fridge out back, in spite of the fact I never see anyone coming to restock the supplies. And once a week fresh bread shows up in the cabinet inside. That means someone comes in here when I'm asleep, but I'm a light sleeper and I don't see how that is possible. There are two different sets of clothes in the closet and drawers, male and female clothes, though the male clothes are far to big to fit me. I've been wearing the baggy male clothes since I started writing this because it helps me remember I'm not really the woman this body tells me I am, though sometimes I feel a little weird when I have to squat to pee after feeling like a man all day. There are razors and shaving cream, though I don't have a beard, and I'm a bit embarrassed to admit that I shave my legs every few days because I can't stand seeing hair on these rather shapely legs. And I'm horny all the time, which is often frustrating. I'm a guy and looking at this hot little babe bod all day makes me want to fuck that body, bad, but I can't. If I want to have sex I have to masturbate as a woman, and there is a whole drawer here full of toys to make that possible. But every time I do that I get so screwed up psychologically it results in hours of arguing with myself about who and what I really am. I either can't get myself off because of those arguments, or I give in and let myself enjoy this body and have multiple orgasms, which after years of being a male is an awesome thing that I don't think most women appreciate as much as they should. But that's usually what convinces me I really am a woman and all this male stuff is just a psychotic delusion. It's much easier, believe me, to accept being a woman when I obviously am a woman. But the pattern has been that I accept being female for a couple of weeks, then start thinking about why I have been imprisoned here, and that reminds me of how I got here, of the fact I am a man stuck in a female body, and the whole identity crisis takes over again. That first night when I met Cheryl she opened up a part of me I hadn't dared to explore. When she told me she could give me a pair of breasts I nearly had a heart attack. I have always been very male, particularly when I was younger and went around being the bad boy, tough guy type. But that never stopped me from imagining how much fun it would be to be on the other side of all the fine boobs I have fondled over the course of my life. I have always been a "boob man," though I think the sexiest part on a woman's body is the curve from the waist over the hips and butt. I love playing with a woman's breasts, which has made me quite an expert on how to stimulate them in ways that can actually make some women reach orgasm. (Too bad I can't do that with this body.) But I have always wanted to have a nice pair of tits, at least in my fantasies, just so I could feel what women feel. That was a secret I had never mentioned to anyone, and when Cheryl told me she could let me experience having female breasts I was far more shocked that she knew my secret than with the idea she might be able to make that happen. "What makes you think I want a pair of boobs?" I asked, trying to appear unruffled. "You shouldn't attempt to deceive me, David," she said. "I have spent a lifetime living a highly disciplined life under the tutelage of a master shaman who taught me the nature of human consciousness. When I feel it is appropriate I can merge my awareness with almost any living creature and understand exactly how they think and feel, because I become one with them. The idea that we are separate from one another is an illusion. From a larger perspective, there is no time or space or separateness. We are all part of a greater whole and this reality is essentially no more solid and real than a dream. I chose you to be part of our mission, in part, because you would prefer being a woman, and our group is made up entirely of women." "Oh get off it," I said rather indignantly. "I have never wanted to be a woman. Sure, I think having boobs for a few minutes would be great fun. What man wouldn't like to experience what it's like to have them, or even a pussy for that matter? But there is a big difference between wanting to know what it feels like to be on the other side and actually wanting to become that." "I'll let you take that stand, for now," she said, "but I know you better than you know yourself in some ways. I am not limited by self imposed moral restrictions dictated by society, so I allow myself to feel what I truly feel rather than what I am taught it is OK to feel. For now all I need is your agreement that you would like to experience having a nice pair of big, sensitive breasts while the four of us help you enjoy them." "Well yeah, I could go for that," I said. "But just how do you expect that to happen?" "As I said before, the drug in these bowls makes it far easier to visualize internal images. It enhances one's ability to concentrate, and that makes hypnosis operate more effectively." "So you want to hypnotize me into believing I have a pair of knockers?" I asked. Debbie chimed in. "It's more than just hypnosis. We'll all experience them as real. What Cheryl is about to do is guide your awareness, and ours, to a parallel universe, predicted by quantum mechanics, where whatever one believes is real, is real." "It's easier if you think in terms of entering a dream from a waking state of consciousness," said Cheryl. "What's important is believing that what you desire is reality, and what people call hypnosis makes that possible. Do you want to go there with us?" "OK," I said. "I don't think I can be hypnotized but I am certainly willing to give it a try." "Only about ten percent of people can be easily hypnotized," said Cheryl. "That's where this drug comes in. Drink this, and after a few minutes I'll take you to that place you have always wanted to go." We all drank from the little wooden bowls. The liquid was thick and tasted bitter, then everyone reached for our cocktails to wash the taste out of our mouths. Cheryl led us all into the swimming pool and suggested we relax and enjoy ourselves while we waited for the potion to take effect. We were standing in the shallow end in about four feet of water. Tammy and Debbie sandwiched me between them, with Debbie in back with one hand on my unit and the other rubbing my bare chest. "This is going to be fun!" she said as she reached around from behind to pull Tammy tight against me. Tammy rubbed her huge boobs against my chest. "Like big, soft ball bearings," she said. "You're going to love it." The three of us kissed and fondled each other while Cheryl and Barbie bobbed in the water some distance away. Barbie was floating on her back with her eyes closed while Cheryl whispered in her ear and ran her hand gently over her very small breasts. Every now and then Barbie would moan as if she were experiencing a mild orgasm. I had completely forgotten about having taken the drug till I began to feel light-headed about thirty minutes later. Objects around the pool became difficult to see clearly and seemed to have red and blue "shadows" around them. My skin felt soft and tingly, and when I pushed my finger against my leg, or anywhere else, it felt like I was pushing into thick, sensual foam. That's when Cheryl and Barbie drifted over to where the rest of us were. Barbie was smiling as if she were bursting to say something she knew she shouldn't, floating with the water up to her neck, as we all were, apparently fondling her breasts below the surface. "I would like you all to close your eyes and imagine that Barbie has really big boobs," Cheryl said. I closed my eyes and was astonished to see everything around me with my eyes closed. Well, it was more like a dream version of everything. Nothing held quite still, edges were fuzzy and everyone's faces were constantly distorting. I imagined seeing Barbie stand up with her breasts just above the waterline and her boobs were humungous! Even larger than Tammy's f-cups. "Now," Cheryl continued, "all of us agree to suspend our previous beliefs about Barbie's body, and we deliberately choose to believe that she has the d-cup breasts she always wanted. We know we can do this because we are pretending to be under hypnosis, and we willfully intend ourselves to believe, that for now at least, desire and belief are one. There is no conflict because we do this willingly. We believe our breasts have always been large and beautiful, perky, firm, and oh so sensitive. "Please keep your eyes closed David. The rest of you may open your eyes." There was the sound of oohs and awes, water splashing, laughter and giggles. I was dying to have a look but did as I was told. While Cheryl was talking my internal vision became rather hallucinatory, with hazy colors swirling around in my peripheral vision and images of the women in the pool fading in and out. I distinctly remember the image of Barbie's breasts shrinking from gargantuan to the size of a grapefruit. I was definitely high on something, but I had my eyes closed and couldn't "really" see anything. Cheryl took me by the hand and pulled me a short distance through the water, till I came up behind someone. She lifted my hands and set them on the breasts of the woman whose back was against my chest. "Whose breasts are in your hands," she asked. The boobs I held felt like perfect d-cup breasts. Though I knew Barbie had no more than an a-cup at best, I honestly believed she could have d-cup breasts at that moment. "Barbie's?" I asked. "Play with them," she said. Feel how large they are and how beautiful they must be. Pull her close to you and imagine how sensitive and sensual they must feel to her. Squeeze the nipples as you lift her breasts. Can you feel what she feels?" Much to my amazement the drug caused me to feel like I had my own big breasts in my hands, and I sighed with obvious enjoyment when I rubbed the nipples and felt the sensations go deep down inside. "Oh yeah," I said. "I can feel just what she feels. It's awesome." "Whose breasts are you holding?" "I'm not sure." I said. "Open your eyes and see." I knew I was holding my own breasts before I opened my eyes. Amazingly, I was more curious at how she had made me believe I was holding the breasts of someone who was never actually in front of me. "Like 'em?" Cheryl asked. "Oh yeah," I mumbled through gasping breaths, squeezing them, rubbing them, even trying to lick them but my tongue couldn't reach. "Let me help you with that," said Barbie, gently lifting my breasts in order to get me to stand up in the water where she could suck on them. Her breasts were fine looking d-cups very similar to mine, only with larger, darker areolas. Tammy and Debbie both began sucking on her boobs the moment they came up out of the water. As Barbie sucked and played with my nipples Cheryl slipped under the water and a moment later she had my limp unit in her mouth. I thought I would come in spite of not being hard, but she let go and came up for air. "Oh my god, how did you do this?" I asked Cheryl as Barbie continued to suck and lick my breasts. "It's simple. The world is what we expect it to be. You believed the drug could make you hallucinate having a nice pair of breasts and that freed your mind to let go of your everyday world and enter a probable, quantum reality which exists parallel to the world you are used to experiencing. Right now your previous reality is the parallel universe, and from here it doesn't seem to exist. Unless you know how to get back to it, your breasts are permanent. They'll even begin to sag a bit as you get older, unless you don't believe they will." "No way," I said. "I'm hallucinating alright, but I'm not going to argue with you. This is the funest thing I have ever done, and right now I don't want anything to interfere so I'll just go along with whatever you say." Tammy switched from one of Barbie's boobs to one of mine so both of my breasts were being sucked at the same time. I felt like my entire body was a huge mammary gland with the two girls sucking a gallon of milk per minute out of me. It felt like my body was melting into their mouths. If I had died right then it would have been fine with me, but what came next was even better. Day 104 It stopped raining shortly after it started a few hours ago. Well, it has sprinkled a few times since then, and it's kind of windy out but the temp is still pretty warm. That makes me think it must still be sometime in August. The nights will get cold when September arrives. I just got a look at my face, well, sort of. Something from a survival class I took in college popped into my head and I remembered the international sign of distress is three of anything in a straight line -- three fires for example. There isn't enough wood around here to keep even a single small fire going for more than an hour, but I remembered another distress signal, one used to attract the attention of a pilot in an airplane. As a plane flies over terrain the angle of light between objects on the ground, the sun and the moving plane constantly changes. That means there are no steady reflections from small objects on the ground. Pilots have been trained to recognize any steady reflection on the ground as a distress signal. What one does is hold a small mirror or shiny piece of metal so it reflects light up to your outstretched hand. You make a big gap between your thumb and fingers with one hand, then stand where you can see the plane through that gap, and hold a mirror near your eyes so it reflects light on your hand. You keep moving so the plane stays centered in the gap of your outstretched hand as it moves across the sky. That creates a steady reflection the pilot can see. But wouldn't you know it. There isn't a shiny piece of anything around here. I figured I could put some water in a cast iron pan and try to use that to create a distress beacon. It didn't take long to realize I can't change the angle of reflection because the surface of the water always remains parallel to the ground. But I did see a dim reflection of my face in the water. I thought that would bring me some psychological comfort, and in a way it did, but it also reinforced the fact I'm a woman, and that makes all this stuff about being a man seem even more insane. I seriously have to admit that the most likely truth here is that I have always been a woman. I don't know why I have these "memories" of being a man, or why I can only remember myself being a woman for the last two years. I wouldn't wish this kind of mental torment on anyone. But anyway, I'm pretty cute :) Think of the typical, cute little blond movie star and I look something like that. Little nose, sort of high cheekbones, smooth skin, great teeth. I'd do me in a heartbeat. Of course, the reflection is so dim I can't make out my features that well and I might not look as good as I think. But I am glad to have a face to connect to this body. I felt like a ghost before, and now I am just some insane girl being held prisoner in the middle of the damned desert by figments of my imagination. The only thing I can think to do is keep writing about what I seem to remember and hope it leads me to some answers. First I'm going to eat some real food. My lips are drying out from all the salt on this jerky I've been munching all day. I was in the pool with my fresh new pair of tits when Cheryl asked us all to come into her bedroom, which is huge. It's decorated in southwestern style like the rest of the house, with light tan carpet and different shades of brown on the walls, which are covered with a sort of burlap cloth in many places. There is a fireplace opposite a large round bed with a curved headboard lined with vertical mirrors, a mirror on the ceiling, and more mirrors on the walls near the bed. An electric motor drops the headboard down into the floor and a large flat screen TV slides out of the ceiling at the foot of the bed. She has video cameras hidden in the walls so she can watch herself having sex on that big screen, and I'm pretty sure she records the action sometimes. If she had the cameras on that night I'd sure love to see it :) Cheryl had me and my new boobs lie on my back in the center of the bed while the four girls moved into a circle around me. Cheryl got on all fours above me and began to slowly drag her wet hair across every inch of my naked body. I was still very high on whatever drug that was and my skin became so sensitive and sensual that the slightest touch of her hair had me gasping for breath, especially when she dragged her hair over my engorged breasts. I kept trying to play with my tits but she wouldn't let me. One by one the other three girls joined her . . .
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