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Unread 03-22-2011   #73
Red_Mage
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Re: Female to female morphs

I remembered the other day that I'd offered to do a story for this thread and I'd not ever gotten around to it. Well....better late than never, I suppose. There were two ways I imagined this quick little story ending, so pick your favorite.

By Any Other Name

By Red_Mage

Catherine Bell sighed as she fell backward into a set folding chair. The day had been long, and the shoot tiring. She'd been out on the beach in the sand, barefoot, posing for hours under the sun. Dozens of pics were taken only to yield what? Two? Three publishable photos? She felt drained, her body ached and there was still a lot more shooting left before she was done.

Still, she thought as she leaned back, it was a lot easier than her acting work. Sure, it was physical, but so was filming, and here, all she had to do was pose look pretty. And with her body, and the outfit they gave her to show it off, that was not a hard thing to do. The red hotpants exposed the whole of her long, slender legs, while also covering up the fact that she didn't have much of a butt, to speak of. The thin white tank she'd been given accentuated her ample breasts while covering their age and exposing her toned, flat tummy. Pretty indeed.

Making a buck or two on the side with the odd modeling job like this wasn't a bad way to do things. But one thing was certain: she wasn't in her twenties anymore.

A short distance away, her cameraman...or at least the man she thought was her cameraman...watched her. The actual cameraman was asleep in a broom closet, deep in a hypnotic trance. The man who stood in his place, wearing his form, was wide awake. Were anyone else in the photo crew capable of noticing, they'd see his eyes glow yelled as he gazed upon the actress. Staring at her head, he saw into her thoughts. He saw her struggles and her fatigue.

He saw an opportunity.

After about ten minutes, he called out to her.

"You ready to start again, Mrs. Bell?" He asked.

"Yes." The English woman replied, "I think so."

"This won't take but a minute, so bare with me." He said. "I want you to lean back, give me a sexy look and just barely pull down your shorts."

Catherine complied. She struck the pose and gave the cameraman a "come-hither" look. As she did, she noticed something strange. The man's eyes, once totally unremarkable, were now glowing a brilliant orange. Her instinct was to gasp and jump back, but she instead remained frozen in place as her eyes locked onto his.

"Good girl." He said, moving from behind the camera to her. "I know you're feeling tired, so I'm going to make this go quickly for you."

"W-who are you?" She asked, fearfully. Around them, the crew of the shoot walked off uninterested in different directions, oblivious to what was happening.

"Never you mind." He said. His hair stood on end, spiking up to the sky. His voice came to her in echoes. "All you need to do is relax."

His eyes flashed momentarily blinding her. When the light faded, a profound sense of calm washed over her. Her body shrank from 5'10 to 5'7 and her skin lightened as the traces of her Iranian heritage faded.

"You find acting to be hard, don't you?" He asked. She nodded slightly in response, the fight slowly draining out of her.

There was another flash. This time, she felt more than relaxed; almost disembodied. This time, her frame thickened. She was still thin, but not as much as she had been. She was curvier, and her legs, arms and face were less toned and skinny, but rather shapely.

"It's not easy getting older." The cameraman said to the still paralyzed woman. "Do you have trouble with it?"

Again Catherine nodded, and again there was a flash. This time, a jolt of energy rocked her. She felt more alive. She was growing younger now. Her body raced backward. As she went through her thirties, she felt her body course with the energy of a younger woman. As she raced through her twenties, her skin became firm and healthy. The lines of age vanished from her face and her body took on a softer appearance. When it stopped, she was no longer a 41 year old woman, but rather a 19 year old girl.

"And now you're young again. Not even 20 years old" he said, eliciting a soft moan from Catherine. "Less than half your age."

The fourth flash rocked her. No longer paralyzed, she was now in a deep trance, consumed both by the thought her renewed youth and an intense pleasure coursing through her body. The lovely tingling shot through her to her bust. The white top covering them faded away leaving her naked breasts exposed for all to see. Small and pillowy, they swelled in size and formed into perfect teardrop shapes that stood out proudly from her chest as her back arched. She gasped in heat as her flat, boyish ass swelled into a sexy heart that matched her long, shapely legs. The red hotpants she had been tugging shrank into a lacy black thong. Absentmindedly, her hand slipped down from the elastic band she'd been holding down into her new undergarment, gent stroking her youthened sex.

"What you need is a chance to model full time." He told her. "Much less to worry about."

A final flash consumed her as she cried out in ecstasy. She was in another world as her face altered, barely aware of anything early and lost in bliss. Her thin face filled out, taking on a youthful, cuter appearance. Her lips became soft and pouty as they swelled, her nose less pointed and button shaped as it shrank. Her jawline shifted, and her chin rounded. Her eyes grew wider and rounder. Her hair grew from its short bob, down her shoulders, mussed as it darkened to a chocolate brown.

Where once stood 41 year old Catherine Bell was now a clone of 19 year old Rosie Jones.

"Now there's one more thing to finish" The man in front of her, which by now bore no resemblance to the cameraman.

ENDING 1

The man ran his hand through Catherine's hair. With his fingers came a wave of all consuming pleasure that flooded her brain that masked a more sinister rewiring taking place within her. The talents and skills that guided her career as an actress faded and vanished. With it went the finely tuned self control and consciousness she had developed over the years to portray subtle bodily and emotional nuances. In their place was nothing but heat; a strong, permanent, animal lust that would guide her actions from here on.

Catherine cried out as the man repeated the motion, drawing her nearly naked body into him. This time, he had taken her education, her fluency in Persian and the years of emotional and mental maturity brought by adulthood. All of it gone and replaced with a wild and diverse knowledge of sex, techniques and desires to match her perpetually horny natures.

He pulled her into a kiss, sealing Catherine's fate. The waves of bliss flooded her mind, changing one final time. Catherine no longer thought of herself as Catherine, but rather Rosie. Her desires and memories had shifted. She was an exhibitionist now who would never wear anything more than a pair of panties unless she absolutely had to. She was quiet, and preferred to focus her thoughts and energy on the attainment of her own pleasure. She sought to be taken care of and to have her one remaining need taken care of. And here, pressed tightly against this man, she felt as though she'd found her ticket.

The man smiled as he slipped his arm around her waist, and his hand across her ass.

"You ready to go home?" He asked her.

She nodded in reply, and the two walked off to his home, where they would join a doppelganger of Bianca Gascoigne that had once been actress Vera Farminga and a perfect Cheryle Cole he'd fashioned from Demi Moore.

Just another add on to the collection.


ENDING 2

The intense euphoric feeling that had swept Catherine as she changed had come to relief. She felt as though she'd had the greatest ride of her life.

"Oh...my...god." The woman cooed through deep breaths.

"Thrilling, isn't it?" The man offered. "Just another upside to what I do."

"Wh...what have you done to me?" She asked.

"I gave you what you wanted." He explained. "An easy career as a centerfold. Your youth returned. You've got your whole life ahead of you again."

"But I'm a totally different person!" Catherine protested, "What am I going to do now?"

"Whatever you want." The man answered. "You've regained half a lifetime to do whatever you see fit with. You can model, spend your days looking beautiful, and with your exceptional talent, even return to acting if you see fit."

She opened her mouth to argue, but stopped as it sunk in that the man was right. This IS what she'd wanted, even if she'd never uttered a word of it. She got a second chance.

"Thank you." Was all she said.

The man smiled in response and said to her. "You're welcome. This is what I do."

"What about the real Rosie?" She asked, as the knowledge she'd require to take on her new role drifted into her mind.

"Don't you worry about it." He said to her kindly before motioning to the camera. "Now...if you're quite finished, I believe you have a new career to begin."

The new Rosie struck a pose, proudly displaying her new body and breathed, "Alright, then. Make me a model."

Meanwhile in Middlesex...

The girl who had been the real Rosie Jones stood in front of her bathroom mirror, staring in awe at the woman she had become. Something instinctively told her that her name was Catherine Bell. She was older too. It had been the strangest thing. Out of the blue, she had just changed. Clothes had even appeared on her.

As she admired the reflection of the beautiful older woman she had become, she could feel her mind shifting. Knowledge and skills pored slowly into her head. She gained Catherine's talent and maturity while retaining everything about herself.

As she began to collect herself, she realized that she should be scared of loosing 22 years of her life. But she wasn't. In her mind, this had been a fast forward through the lost years of decline that saddled all models as they aged. She had retained beauty, gained talent and avoided some hard times. In a way, this was a new lease on life, she thought. A chance to do more with her existence than pose in front of cameras, though she realized viewing her new form was out not out of the question. She'd always wanted to do more, and something, somewhere had granted her wish.

END

So there you have it. Hope you enjoy, sorry for necroing the thread and let me know what you think of the story and the endings.
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Unread 10-03-2011   #74
cynet2212
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Re: Female to female morphs

First off -- great story, Red Mage! I'm sorry that no one has commented on it, but well done!

Secondly -- after a really long hiatus, I decided I'd try my hand at these here morphs again. I've made my own female-to-female morph blog, where I've only just started to post some new material.

But! Since this is where it all started, I figured I'd post those new morphs here, too. It's Jennifer Alba to Susan Wayland (sexy story here), and Grace Park to Jennifer Ellison.
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Unread 10-03-2011   #75
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Re: Female to female morphs

Looking forward to a story on the latter. Your work rocks, and it's nice to finally see a good F2F site
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Unread 10-18-2011   #76
cynet2212
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Re: Female to female morphs

Alright, two more -- Nikki Sims to Bianca Beauchamp, and Gemma Massey to Jasmine Sinclair. I've got a story with this two morphs in the works.
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Unread 10-20-2011   #77
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Re: Female to female morphs

Hello~ Susan Wayland O___o (the girl in green, right?)
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Unread 10-20-2011   #78
cynet2212
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Re: Female to female morphs

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Hello~ Susan Wayland O___o (the girl in green, right?)
Indeed! That's Jessica Alba morphing into Susan Wayland. What can I say, I have a thing for latex. There's an accompanying story here.

I'm a good chunk of the way through writing a story for the last two morphs I posted -- with Bianca Beauchamp and Jasmine Sinclair. I'll post a link to that story when I'm done.

Also, if you all would like, I'll post the story here. While part of me is all like "Yes, drive them to your blog! Artificially increase your page hits!", I really don't care -- I just thought the stories might not be as appropriate in this thread, than say in the "Evil Conversion" thread -- so I took a third option and have been posting them off-site.
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Unread 10-20-2011   #79
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Re: Female to female morphs

Post here! Post HEEERE!!
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Unread 10-24-2011   #80
aprilchange
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Re: Female to female morphs

here's a link to a face cream product,



kind of cool, in a morph type way..
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Unread 11-09-2011   #81
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Re: Female to female morphs

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Originally Posted by AzureChromatic View Post
Post here! Post HEEERE!!
Done!

It's the first part of a planned two-part work. At the blog, there's an additional still-shot of Nikki Sims that helps, errr, flesh things out.

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Megan and I had been college roommates for three years straight, and our senior year wasn't going to be any different. But our old landlord decided he wanted to "improve" his real estate, and he made it perfectly clear he expected us to either pay condo-level rent or find a new place.

So we found a new place.

Fortunately for us, our apartment search seemed to be over almost as soon as it started. Right out of the gate, we found a large two-story house for rent. It was old and a little worn down, and it looked a little creepy -- but it was just off of campus, and the price was right. That said, the renter had seemed a little... cagey on the phone. She said that she couldn't come show us the place herself -- "I can't go back in there," she had said, all mysterious like -- but she did say that we could let ourselves in and look around.

So that's just what the two of us did.

"Wow, look at these light fixtures!" Meg called from the other room. "This place must be from the fifties."

"I'll be right there," I called back, stepping into the kitchen. "I heard that this was once an old sorority house, so you might be right."

"Well," Megan shouted back, taking on that matter-of-fact tone she loved to employ, "I heard that a mad scientist used to live here, and she did all sorts of experiments on hapless young men."

"A female mad scientist, in the fifties, 'playing' with young men? Like hell, Megs. What sort of late-night scifi special were you watching?"

"Hey, missy, I'm just repeating what I read on the... hey, what's this? Someone left out -- oh, crap!"

There was a loud clattering noise from the living room, and I rushed to check on Megan. When I got there, everything looked fine -- she had tripped over a can of blue paint and fallen right on her butt, getting splattered in the process -- and judging from her blush, only Meg's ego was harmed. "Little Miss Clumsy much?" I smirked.

She glared back, faux-huffing. "I tripped over this paint can when I walked in here! Someone left all this paint out, open and everything. It's not my fault!"

"Oh, I'm just teasing you. Come on, let's try to get you cleaned up, and get this paint off before it dries."

Megan pulled herself up, glancing around. Her face was flushed and her eyes a little glazed; she must have been a little more embarrassed or a little more hurt than she first let on. "Just look at this mess," she said. "Fuck!"

"Meg!" I said, jokingly admonishing the goody-two-shoes. "Cursing isn't like you at all!"

"Oh, shut up," she snapped back. She didn't look at me, though, just at the paint splattered all over her. "I just need to get this shirt off of me and I'll be fine."

"The shirts ruined, idiot. Come on."

She kept muttering, still ignoring me. "I don't... uuuuhhhh, I don't feel so good," she groaned, slowly rubbing the paint on her shirt. "I just... need to get... this paint off..."

This she let out what can only be described as a sexual moan, low and throaty. If I didn't know better, I'd think she was turned on. "Meg, come on now..."

"This paint..." she murmured back, still out of it. She wasn't just rubbing the paint any more... she was beginning to vigorously knead her breasts through the soaked material. "I just need... need it to... it's... all over..."

In one fast and totally unexpected motion, she tore the ruined garment completely off. But the moaning and the rubbing didn't stop -- if anything, they intensified. Her hands slipped across her skin, spreading the blue over her breasts, her stomach -- sometimes a hand even slipped into her pants. It's like she wanted to get paint everywhere. It was hard for me to accept, but it looked like my quiet and reserved roommate was... actively feeling herself up. Her nipples were hard in the air, and it was increasingly clear her flush was no longer one of embarrassment. And the way she was mauling her own breasts...

"Okay Meg," I said, putting a little force into my voice. "That's enough. Let's get out of here. Come on."

"Cum," she giggled, and I could tell which homonym she was using. "I could use some of that, hehehe." She started to pull off her pants, rubbing paint across more and more of her body. "Oh fuck yes, just like that," she moaned, behaving so blatantly sexual that I was well and truly uncomfortable.

"Megan, I don't know what's gotten into you," I said, genuinely worried. "Let's just get you home--"

"But don't you see? We are home, roomie," she giggled, lust-filled eyes starring back at me. "We just need to fix It--" and somehow I knew "It" was capitalized "-- up a little." She giggled again. "And if we fix It, It will fix us, too. You'll see."

Still smiling, she backed against the wall, arms spread wide. And then she started to... change.

I couldn't tell at first, because the paint began to just... flow across her. The blue of the wall seemed to merge with the blue on her skin, coating her completely. Then it started to shine, like it was becoming wetter. It took me a moment to realize that wasn't the case -- it was firming up, becoming some sort of shiny second skin.

Megan moaned, the sluttiest, horniest moan I had ever heard in real life, the sort normally reserved for hardcore porn. "Oh, yyyyyyeeeeessssss," she continued. "The House, I can feel it... it wants me." She licked her swelling lips, sex-filled eyes locked on to mine. "It wants both of us, sweetheart. Just give me a moment, and I'll -- we'll -- show you what we--" She interrupted herself with another animalistic noise.

I ignored her grunts long enough to notice that her brown hair was beginning to lighten, turning a bleached blond. The old Megan would never have done something so overtly slutty, but it looked appropriate on the mewling sex fiend taking shape in front of me: flaring hips and growing breasts pushed her figure into an hour-glass shape, while the paint had finally congealed into a tight, latex suit.

Despite my fear and my horror, I realized that my roommate had become super hot. Not that I swung like that at all, but...

But She deserves it, doesn't She? Foreign thoughts intruded into my head. She is a Goddess, deserving of worship.

"You heard It just now, didn't you?" If I hadn't seen Megan change, I wouldn't believe it was her talking to me; even her voice sounded different. Sexual. More powerful. "It was the House. It wants us. It needs us, roomie. Me, as it's Avatar..." Her mouth drew back in a wicked smirk. "And you, as its first slave."

Dooooo it. Use your tongue. Worship Her.

I stepped backwards, afraid of the dark, sexual tone in this new and strange woman's voice... and of the dirty thoughts they're so right polluting my mind. "I don't know what's wrong with you," I stammered, "but we're going to fix this, Megan. Please, just --"

"Do not address me as Megan, worm," the once-Megan snarled. "Until you have earned the right, I am only Mistress to you."

Then she took a step towards me.
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