Chapter 1. Arrivals
I saw her coming down the corridor at the airport, and knew there was something wrong. She was walking like a tentative doe, like she was a bundle of nerves. I could see her eyes looking a bit wild and a small tremor in her slight body. She was walking like she expected to be attacked at any second and flew the last few yards into my arms.
"Hey, hon, are you OK?" I asked, stroking her short sandy hair.
"Please, just get me out of here. There are so many people, I... I can barely control it." She murmured into my chest. I was not sure what she meant by that, but I could plainly see that she was in distress. She looked great otherwise. I had expected that her time in the desert would have made her tanned and leathery, but she looked wonderful, other than being in distress. Was she taller?
"Sure, how about you just sit over here while I get your luggage?"
"No, please? The luggage is taken care of, it will be delivered to my place. Please, I just need to get out of here." Odd, but the least of my concerns right now. I helped her to my car in the parking garage and we took off.
The further we got from the airport, the more she relaxed. It was so palpable that even the air seemed sweeter. I felt my own spirits lifting like I'd been under a dark cloud for a while. It felt really nice.
The drive from the airport to her house follows a fairly quiet route so there was little traffic this time of day but I noticed that every time a car came by, the air around me seemed to change subtly. Once, when a car pulled up beside us at a light, I felt myself growing aroused. When I looked in the car, it was a couple teenage guys. Why in the hell was I getting aroused at a couple of guys, and why did it start before I looked over?
Tracy, my girlfriend, had her eyes tightly shut and seemed to be muttering something to herself. As the car drove off, we both relaxed.
"Whats going on?" I asked her, getting a bit nervous.
"Please, just get me home, I'll explain everything when we are safely at the house." We completed the drive to her quiet suburb in silence.
Chapter 2. Travels and Travails
Tracy lived in a large old home in a semi-historic neighborhood. It had belonged to her parents who willed it and a decent inheritance to her before they passed away. I loved her neighborhood- spacious, green, quiet. It had a real turn-of-the-century, small-town feeling to it. The neighbors knew each other but respected privacy- they even had old-fashioned socials and block parties.
None of this was on my mind as I helped her into the living room and got her comfortable on the couch. I got us both something to drink and she began to try to haltingly tell me her tale.
"It will be easier if I just do it this way." She sighed as she reached over to touch my arm.
It was like I was watching through her eyes and sharing her thoughts. I was there as she and some of her old school friends traveled to New Mexico. The mixed group was exploring everything from fossils to wildlife, but the main focus was on the ancient Indian cultures in the area. I felt like I was right there with her on the critical dig. Hot sun on our bodies, sweat on our face, bra and panties digging uncomfortably- thinking about slipping them off and going commando like Lisa did but worried about Bill's roving eyes. Dust and sand everywhere, a long bath sounds so good. Picking away ever so slowly in what appeared to be a storage cache in the floor of an out of the way adobe cliff dwelling- tedious, achy work.
A figurine starts to appear under our tools. At first we assume it is a fertility fetish because of the large breasts but more digging reveals an anomaly- what looks like a long, thick phallus pressed up against the abdomen. Every touch of the figure makes us want to touch it more. We glance around to see if anyone else has noticed, feeling a need to keep this secret for some reason. A few more minutes and it is hidden in our bag and we are digging somewhere else.
That night, we take it out in the full moon and hold it, just looking at it when some words come to our mind and we begin a chant. We hold the figure high in the air and chant and move and feel it. We feel the moon on our skin and realize we are naked and it feels so good. We feel the moon's power seep into us like a refreshing soda with an acidic bite. It made us think of ginger ale being poured into our brain. We hear the shaman talking to us in his tongue that no one alive speaks anymore, telling us about the power and the gods, and our new role in their plans.
The next day is normal enough, but that we keep hearing voices when no one is talking. As the day goes on, we notice that we are not tired or sweaty with the work, that we seem to have a sense for what we might find where, and, more importantly, that we know what the others are thinking. The soda is bubbling away merrily, trying to dissolve our inhibitions, our humanity. It wants to be loosed on mankind.
The dig's horn-dog, Bill, is fantasizing. His mind, and now ours, are a-swirl with lusty thoughts of hot, sweaty sex with Lisa, whose loose breasts have been bothering him/us for the last couple of days. In Tracy's and my view of Bill's mind, Lisa is somewhat improved from reality and she is bent over looking at something on the work table, her khaki shorts have changed to a short khaki skirt and he flips it up to find that she is panty-less as well as bra-less. She moans as he caresses her.
We are startled by Lisa moaning in real life, and touch her thoughts to see that they mirror his. We see that she had never thought like this in the past and we know that somehow we, or rather the power fizzing in our brain, did this- we connected their fantasies, and it felt so good. The acid in our mind heats up a little and it feels like raw primal energy- powerful, tasty.
As we watch, we see Lisa's khaki shorts reshape themselves to a skirt under our power. We touch Lisa's body in our mind and see it change- breasts becoming fuller and perkier, waist getting a bit more slender and her rather flat butt growing rounder. Her face looks freshly scrubbed and made-up, lips a bit plumper and eyes a bit brighter. She is squirming with a heat that she had never felt before, wondering if anyone can smell the trickle of hot fluid creeping down her now-creamy thigh. Making the changes seems to release some of the burning pressure in our skull and it feels so good.
Bill has moved closer, and become more buff. His clothes fit more snugly, revealing both muscle and a nice package in his shorts, mirroring the images in Lisa's lust-churned imagination. Lisa reaches over the work table, bending her body almost flat on it as Bill moves closer and flips her skirt up.
Lisa moans softly but does not move. Bill works his hand and fingers over her quivering thick mons and juiced-up lips. Lisa is whimpering with need and pushing her hips back against his hand. Bill lowers his shorts and frees his thickly-engorged cock, barely registering its new heft as he rubs it on her sweet pussy. She gasps and reaches behind her, trying to pull him in. Bill lines himself up and slowly sinks his flesh in hers. We almost expect to hear it sizzle. We feel our body stretch and change, merging with Lisa's and we can feel Bill at our own weeping cunt and it is wonderful. Another part of us merges with Bill to feel the delicious sensations of tight wet flesh sliding on our sensitive cock.
He/we wraps one arm around her/our waist and presses another on our back as they/we settle into a steady, ancient rhythm. One can almost hear the drums and chants and thunder as we screw each other with increasing force and noise. She/he/we begin thrashing, knocking things off the table aswe are pounding into us with wetly loud slaps. We are all making noises- shouts, groans, screams- that everyone else in the area is ignoring. We are rocking right along with them experiencing twice the pleasure as we feel both of them.
We come, loudly and actively, and then fall limp on the table as we resolve ourselves apart from their minds. Bill's fantasy did not extend past this point and we are curious to see how this will resolve itself. Almost anti-climatically, they get up after a few minutes and redress, going back to work with barely a word exchanged. In the real world, the male aspect of us has cum all over himself and does not notice at the time.
That night, in the tent city near the dig, everyone is with someone else. A dozen different fantasies going full blast. Many of the participants would not recognize themselves in a mirror- breast and penis enlargements were almost guaranteed, but there were other things as well- age changes, hair color, race, height, weight, intelligence... it was all malleable to our powers and subject to our whims. We felt an urge, but not an irresistible one, to fulfill fantasies, adjusting bodies and even changing the core fantasy where needed to make interesting match ups. The acid ebbs and flows, but it really wants to run amuck and that terrifies/fascinates us.
I watched Tracy notice that when she had a choice between fantasies, she fulfilled the most erotic, most exotic version. Sweet daydreams of necking on a field near horses lost out to hard and fast sex with a stranger in an exposed alley. Tender wedding night wishes yielded to sexual slavery in a harem. It was not always male dominate, or even heterosexual. A part of me was relieved that none of the 'winners' was really nasty stuff. For that matter, one of the people who tended towards such dark fantasies ended up being a very docile 'bottom' to a strict but loving domme. There seemed to be some sort of karmic balancing going on and I feel a frisson of hope that Tracy's gentle nature is still present.
