The Electro Mancer Pt 02

A chance find in an antique store transformed a 21st century couple into retro-styled pair hungry for new sexual experiences. Convinced the device was too dangerous after an accidental gender swap, they abandoned the Electro-mancer. But, Is it really gone for good?

Lucas Holloway loved watched his wife Abigail dress for work. Her everyday outfits now included a short sleeved rayon blouse over a bullet bra, paired with a simple merino wool skirt, tight on the hips but slit just enough to show her adorable knees. It was like a strip show in reverse, watching her methodically pack away that delicious body into satin wrappings- a Christmas present he could fantasize about all day and open later that evening.

He shook his head and muttered to himself as she left the room. "How could I be so stupid?" The Electro-mancer had enriched them in a very fundamental and vital way. Yet, after one little mishap, they had decided it was way-too dangerous. Now it sat in the trash can with empty vegetable cans and fish-stick boxes. Maybe the box wasn't THAT dangerous.

Perhaps they had been too hasty.

Suddenly, Lucas leapt from the bed and pulled a thin robe over his pajamas as he slipped flat leather slippers onto his feet. He trotted down the stairs as Abigail was just opening the front door to leave. She had her clutch purse in hand and craned her neck back when Lucas tried to kiss her goodbye. "Not now, baby. It'll mess up my lipstick."

"Is the trash gone yet?" asked Lucas breathlessly.

Abigail frowned, shook her head and said, "I don't know, Lucky. I haven't heard them."

Lucas turned and dashed through the hallway to the back of the house. Abby eyed her departing husband curiously for a few moments before she stepped outside and pulled the heavy door closed behind her.

The screen door in the back flew open as Lucas rocketed into the back yard. His slippers slapped down the concrete walk, as he raced past the garage and into the alley. By the time he reached the galvanized trashcans, he was breathing heavy. He reached forward with trepidation and grasped the handles of each of their dented lids. Pulling them off, he looked inside.

Both cans were empty. The Electro-mancer was gone.

*****

Lucas had his hat on, a jacket in the crook of his arm and was still adjusting his art deco tie as he exited the front of the house. The door slammed behind him. He was determined to track down that trash truck, even if it meant following it all the way to the dump. He had a wad of folding money in his pocket. Surely, he could bribe the trash men to stop and sift through the garbage for him.

As he hustled to his car, he brushed past an older man on the sidewalk, knocking the elderly gent side-ways on unstable knees. He twisted around briefly, touched the brim of his fedora superficially and offered, "Pardon me" as he continued to his automobile.

The old man watched him go. He shook his head and sighed. His brown tweed jacket and weathered face rendered him invisible to these young fellas. It was a shame. Where had all the courtesy gone? He shuffled diagonally across the cracked concrete street to a rare old Studebaker Commander, parallel parked between two much more modern vehicles. In it's day, the paint of the car would have been called 'Holiday Red' but, like it's owner it, had chipped and faded with age to a forgettable, flat gray-pink. And, like it's owner, it attracted no one's attention.

An old woman sat in the passenger seat. Her gray hair was parted at the middle and her forehead was barely visible above the frame of the window. The old man reached inside, took her arthritis-gnarled hand and squeezed it. Her rheumy eyes met his and read the disappointment in his face. "Bupkis?" she asked.

The old man shrugged, and patted her hand saying, "Don't worry, dear. We'll find it."

*****

Abigail was bent over on all fours with her knees spread apart and her ass angled up over the edge of the bed. Lucas slid persistently in and out, till euphoria washed over her like warm ocean waves- anticipation building in each trough and delicious bliss as each crested peak rolled into the next. She felt a change in his rhythm and a tightened grip on her hips; and she didn't need to see the tension in his face to know his time had come too.

For a moment, Abby imagined herself in Luke's body and saw her own wide ass moving forward and back. Her thick cock was slippery and the something inside her gut was building- a tension she was struggling to hold back while hungering for it's release. When it did, she felt the same euphoria wash over her as before, just as intense, but only once.

The sheets felt cool on her back as she sprawled afterward, next to her panting husband. She smiled for no other reason than the warmth and satisfaction she felt to her core. Sex with Lucas had become a rich theater of temptation, seduction, aggression and consummation.

Abby glanced over at Luke, watching his chest rise and fall. He'd learned his part too. The boor she married had been been luxuriously re-designed for the new model year, complete with whitewalls, power steering and tail fins. The walnut box had done all that AND had given her a glimpse into what it felt like from the other side.

"I have a confession to make, baby." Said Luke, breaking her reverie.

"Oh, what's that, Lucky?" asked Abby.

Lucas rolled his legs over the edge of the bed and snagged his pants from the bedpost. "I went looking for the Electro-mancer. ...even tracked down the trash truck and searched through the garbage. Couldn't find it."

"Oh, honey, I thought we agreed it was too dangerous." offered Abby consolingly.

"Yeah, I know. I just... I just thought we had made a rash decision. I know we dodged a bullet with that last little mishap, but... I just thought we should explore a little longer," he said, shaking his head.

Abby nodded and said nothing. They had fixed it once- enough to restore their identities. She'd felt the excitement AND dread of living in Luke's body for the rest of her life. But, like a circus performer who'd made her first swing without a net and lived to tell about it, she wanted that thrill again.

Luke pulled suspenders over his shoulders and bent over to lace up his brogues. "I'm going to gumshoe that antique store this morning to see if they have any more like it," he said.

'Good!' thought Abby. With Lucas out of the house, she could hoof it over to the electronics place. She figured her husband would be less angry with her for wasting his time if the Electro-mancer was brought back fully functioning.

What Lucas didn't know was that she had risen before dawn, retrieved the walnut box and hid it under shoes in her closet.

*****

"Electro-mancer?" said the man behind the counter. "Nah, I bought that at some pawn shop- I don't remember where. Never seen one before or since, but I figured someone would buy it, 'cause it looked so cool."

The antique dealer eyed Lucas warily. He looked like a private dick from an old-time movie, complete with a double breasted, pin-striped suit and a gray fedora. It was way too early for Halloween, so he figured the guy was just some odd-ball, 'mid-century' loving weirdo.

Lucas took his hat off and swept his fingers through shiny pomaded hair. "Listen," he said, "I'm not fresh off the turnip truck, so don't play me for a chump."

The antique dealer raised an eyebrow.

Lucas continued, "I got the greenbacks and am willing to pay for good dope on the first one you sold me."

The antique dealer held his palms up and insisted, "I told you man, I don't remember."

The two men stared at each other, at an impasse, when they heard a voice behind Luke.

"When did you last see the Electro-mancer?"

Luke turned and eyed an old man standing in the shadows by a cabinet of vintage porcelain. His tweed jacket was the color of dirt and his bow tie had a tiny Fleur-de-lis pattern. He looked somehow familiar. "Do I know you?" Lucas asked.

The old man smiled graciously and said, "No. I don't believe so, but I know something about the item for which you are looking."

Lucas suddenly lost interest in the antique dealer and turned fully to the old man with his hat in hand.

The older gentleman continued, "It's a burled walnut box about yay-big." He formed his hands into a rough box shape. "It has a dial and knobs on the front; and two headsets attached for listening."

Seeing he had Lucas' attention, the man said, "Oh, and I can tell you. It's not what you think it is. It is not a radio."

Lucas snorted, and said. "Yeah, we figured that out quick." He laughed and added, "It's an old fashioned sex toy."

The antique dealer chimed in and said, "It's a SEX toy you say?"

The old man glanced at the dealer, and then eyed Luke. He appraised Luke's style of dress and demeanor- and the words he used. He looked at the ground thoughtfully, and said, "Oh dear, NO. It is not that either."

Suddenly impatient with the old man, Luke said, "Yeah, well, whatever it is, it went to the dump with the Thursday morning trash. I tried to track it down and had no luck." He paused and asked, 'Say, what's your angle, bub?"

The old man looked up with woeful eyes and said, "My wife and I... need it to get home."

*****

The electronic chime on the front door of the Vintage Radio Shop made a 'bee-boop, bee-boop' sound and Hank looked up from his comic book. That weird chick, Abby or Lucy (or whatever she was calling herself today) was back. She'd dropped off that old burled wood radio earlier and asked him to take a quick look. Under all that makeup, she was definitely a looker so he agreed enthusiastically to spend the morning working on it. Watching her waggle through the store to his service counter made it all worthwhile.

Abigail strolled through the shop and paused half-way to the back to examine a HAM radio outfit gathering dust on the shelf. She had no interest in shortwave radio, but it gave her an opportunity to bend at the waist to exhibit her shapely, skirt-covered butt for Hank, the repair guy. She shifted the weight on her high heels to stretch the fabric and flexed her calves for effect. Abby found men more pliable when she softened them up with a nickel peepshow.

By the time she got to the counter in the back of the store, Hank had a thin line of drool hanging from the side of his mouth like a dog keen for a scrap from the family dinner table.

Aware that Hank's eyes were fixed on her chest, Abby took her time undoing the thin scarf from her beehive up-do. She set tortoise-shell, cats-eye sunglasses on the glass counter with a thunk to bring Hank back from fantasy land. She reached out and scratched the repair man's grizzled chin with a red lacquered nail to get his attention.

"Oh, Hank, dear," she said, "Did you fix my radio?"

Hank blinked and forced himself to look up at Abby's face. Her pouty red lips were framed elegantly by rouged cheeks and a cute upturned nose. "Uh, yeah," he said. He slid the Electro-mancer in front of him and turned it to face her. "It was another blown capacitor."

The repair man licked his lips and added, "Listen, I still don't think you should be using this thing. It's full of old hardwired crap that could burn out any time. It could be dangerous."

Abby eyed him for a moment, leaned forward and said, "Oh, honey, you can't have real romance without a little danger. Now, can you?" She winked at him, gathered the walnut box in her arms and turned to leave.

Hank watched her ass rock back and forth all the way to the front door. As the girl stepped into the bright sunlight and the chime from the closing door sounded, he realized she hadn't paid him for his work.

"Damn it!" he said out loud. He was tempted to chase after her, but his lazy, corpulent body refused to move from the padded counter stool. Chiding himself for being distracted by this woman, he picked up the phone to leave her a message at home, but noticed a card sitting on top of a dusty pile of receipts. He chuckled when he read the name on the card.

Hank dialed the phone number and waited for the answer. "Is this Professor Bowlcut? Yes? Yes, this is Hank at Vintage Radio Repair. I called to tell you, that item you were looking for... Yes, the Electro-mancer... Well, it turned up again."

He paused a few moments listening to the receiver. "Yeah, yeah. But, here's the thing. She stiffed me on the bill, so if you come over and pay for the repair, I'll tell you where you can pick it up."

*****

At first, Lucas was furious- stunned that Abby had pulled off such an underhanded caper. But, then again, his baby doll HAD delivered the Electro-mancer in a hat box with a big satin bow. It was it fixed and ready to play; and she was as hungry as he was to fire it up.

They both sat naked at the edge of the bed. The headsets smelled of oiled leather as they pulled them over their heads and adjusted the gimbaled speaker pads on their ears. Anticipating the rush, Luke clicked on the Bakelite knob and adjusted the frequency. At first, they heard music. Then, their eyes rolled into their heads and their bodies went limp.

The radio on the counter was broadcasting an Edward R. Murrow interview about flying saucers. As interesting as that was, it was drowned out by the chattering of the electric clippers the barber was using to clean up the back of Lucky's neck. Abby sat in the second chair watching her man being groomed- high and tight on the sides with two inches of loose curl on the top, just the way she liked it. Slovenly Lucas was becoming her dream boat again. Now... about that beard.

With no small measure of satisfaction, Abby watched the barber deftly remove four inches of beard, revealing a long-hidden chin. He wrapped Luke's face in a steaming towel and stepped aside to hone his straight razor on a leather strop. The plastic cushion on Abby's chair squeaked as she slid off. She eyed Lucas in the mirror, stepped in close and whispered in his ear, "Do you trust me, lover?"

Abby unwrapped the towel covering Lucas's face and picked up the mug from the counter. She swirled the horse-hair brush, scooped up a generous amount of foam and spread it on Luke's jaw line. Lucas followed her with his eyes as she methodically applied a dense, slippery layer of soap. Satisfied with her work, she set the mug down and turned to the barber. Without a word, the grey-smocked man handed her the open straight-razor by its handle and stepped back. No longer useful in this scenario, he dropped his arms to his sides and stared out into space.

"Do you trust me, lover?" asked Abby again.

Lucas blinked in response and Abby drew the straight razor across his neck. He craned his neck back to tighten the skin as she pulled its edge upward alongside his Adam's apple. Like scraping a shovel through snow and picking up flecks of coal, it left a smooth, bare patch in it's wake,

Suddenly the lights in the barbershop brightened and flashed blue. Abby found herself in Luke's body, staring at herself in the mirror. A straight razor hovered at her neck held by woman she recognized as herself. Lucas eyed the razor in his hand and his red nails curiously, and then calmly leaned forward to rinse off the blade in a bowl of warm water on the counter.

"Yes, I trust you," said Lucas as he continued shaving Abby, who now shivered nervously in the barber chair. Abby felt herself getting aroused as the blade scraped over the stubble on her chin, and an erection formed between her legs. She looked up and watched her own eyes blinking and flicking from side to side as Luke worked methodically.

Pausing a moment to survey his progress, Lucas had a another thought. He straightened up and marveled at himself in the mirror. He pursed Abby's lips and turned her head from side to side, feeling her muscles move. Abby's body was so supple and smooth, and her breasts weren't the burden he thought they'd be. His hand rose involuntarily to grasp and squeeze- and abruptly the lights flashed blue again.

Lucas found himself back in the chair with Abby standing aside him, a straight razor in one hand and a breast in the other. They stared at each other for a few seconds, then the girl closed her eyes and hunched over slightly, feeling the awe, hunger and envy Luke had left for her. Likewise, Lucas sensed the arousal Abby had conjured in his body; the thrill of being vulnerable, yet entrusting your whole being to another who could either love you or end you.

Luke whistled and commented, "So, that's the way it is..."

Abby swished the blade in the bowl of water, watching the foam melt away. From those few moments, she understood how Lucas felt about her. As his residual emotions faded, she smiled, confident her trust was not misplaced. She tapped the razor on the glass bowl, but before she could start shaving Luke again, the lights flashed blue.

Then, again.

And, again.

*****

There was a knock at the front door. Abby twisted the knob and let it swing open wide. An elderly couple stood on the porch. The gray haired man wore an old fashioned tweed jacket with elbow patches, and clutched the woman's gnarled hand in his. The bespectacled woman's hair was parted at the middle and gathered in a tight bun in the back. With thin tendrils of gray wafting in the breeze, she offered a nervous smile.

The man said, "Hello. You must be Ms. Holloway. Mr. Kirchov at the Vintage Radio Shop kindly gave us this address and your name. I was hoping we could talk about that old radio you recently had repaired there."

"I know you," said Abby recognizing the man. Then she turned her head a few degrees to the right and said, "How do you know him?" She twisted her head left and said, "From the antique store, of course." The girl paused, looked at the man and said, "Well, I've never seen him."

"Oh dear," said the older man with a concerned frown. He recognized the mishap immediately. This poor couple was caught in a single body, conjunction loop. His face turned affable again and he said, "I am Professor Ronald Bowlcut and this is my wife Cricket. May we come in?"

Gathered at the dining room table, Dr. Bowlcut and Cricket watched patiently while the woman argued with herself. "I'm Lucy. No, you're not-I'm still Abigail. I thought we agreed to call me Lucy, when I'm in here. I'm in here too, you retard-this is MY body, after all. You should just be quiet and let me talk."

"Is the man of the house at home?" asked Dr. Bowlcut.

"I am the man of the house," said Abby sternly. "I think he means, your body, Lucky," she added. With barely a pause, the girl curled her lips in disgust, "You just thought about my cock!" A second later, her eyebrows arched and she said mockingly, "And why not? You keep playing with my pussy!"

"STOP!" insisted Dr. Bowlcut as he slapped his palm on the table. "Both of you! Stop!"

The two-in-one Abby pulled her hand out of her pants and went silent.

"The device you possess is a powerful instrument, but it clearly has been misused," said Dr. Bowlcut. "It is NOT a sex toy! It IS a

transportation

device." He paused for a moment watching Abby's eyes before continuing like he was explaining particle physics to a second grader, "Without a defined destination, it loops back on itself. When two people are connected, it's like a game of musical chairs- except, in this case, you both are occupying the same chair."

"Huh? Transportation? We didn't go anywhere!" said Lucas hoarsely through Abby's vocal cords.

"Oh, but you did!" insisted Dr. Bowlcut. "Your bodies remain in situ, but your essence was transmuted into another existence."

"See? I told you this radio was bad business!" said Abigail and then she replied to herself immediately with, "What? You dug through a garbage pile to get it back!"

The Professor ignored the banter and looked at Cricket affectionately. He patted her hand and said, "The Electro-mancer brought my wife and I to this place seventy years ago. It was stolen from us shortly after that. We've had a nice visit, but, now that it's found, we would very much like to go home."