Time Technician

The first thing you perceive after transfer is darkness and disorientation. It's down-right uncomfortable! You go from being still, thoughtful, pensive and non-moving, to bright lights, loud noises and throbbing headaches. God, what a way to live! If I didn't have to do this for the Company, I would settle down in my native Georgia, buy a double-wide and have sex with my daughters, like everyone else!

I can't do that, of course. The Company owns me, body and soul. I signed on, years ago to do this job. My family was paid a handsome stipend for my services. I am a "Time Technician", a member of a small group of men and women who police the corridors of time to prevent the Xiccans from corrupting our own past, distorting it into rampant feminism, tree hugging and sexual debauchery.

In order to do this job, the 120 or so of us are frozen into human Popsicles, stored away in heavy freezers and used. Our souls are ripped from our rock-hard bodies and transported back through time to battle and thwart the efforts of the paganistic Xiccans.

The technology was developed back in 2071. The first human soul was transported back to 1998, a man who invaded and controlled the body of one of the most infamous women in history: Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton. His sexual appetite was uncontrollable, even in female skin, as he combined sex with business on a regular basis, almost exposing and ruining our mission.

Enough of this daydreaming! My mind and sight was clearing enough to perceive my surroundings. I was lying on my side on a cold, dark, wet curb with water running across my leg, hard stone against my head. Did I make it to my target date? The computers were never wrong before, at least since they developed the new software that probed the actual arrival-body beforehand. Software was always suspect, though. The proverbial "bugs" always had to be worked out. I was supposed to arrive in the body of an English "Bobby", about 35, who walked his beat in London, 1888. Male personalities always transferred to male bodies, so there was no need to worry. Sure...

The Xiccans were planning a huge ceremony and recruiting drive at Stonehenge that month, luring hundreds of young, nubile men and women to the weeklong affair of lesbian sex, male sacrifice, genital amputation and cannibalism. I was appalled. I intended to rally the police department to rout out several of the female conspirators and arrest them before they could start. It was quickly becoming clear that my mission was not going to be so simple.

As I awoke, I willed my arms and legs to move. I became aware that things were not as they should be. Instead of being in the uniform of the Bobbie, I became aware of the long skirt, which was wrapped around my stocking-clad legs and my chest, which was bound in some tight fitting clothing. What the hell was going on?

As I raised my head and tried to sit up, I immediately yelped in pain as I yanked the long, flowing hair that was under my elbow, ouch! I sat, legs spread wide on the dark, damp street corner, skirt bunched around my wide thighs. My gut was being squeezed like a vice which hampered my breathing so much, I had to try and stand. As I did so, unsteadily, I felt my ribcage and noticed my ample bosom was held in check by a tight-fitting corset, which extended down to my belly.

Continuing on down, my hands traveled the length of my torso revealing my slightly rounded belly, wide hips, sharply protruding hip bones, ample butt and absolutely nothing in my crotch area, between my legs.

Shit, I was a woman! "My God", I thought, "The computers have really screwed up this time! They've landed me in the body of a woman!" The very, vile, wretched species I was supposed to thwart! Computer upgrades be damned! I was going to bomb Microsoft when I got back!

How was I supposed to complete my mission now? I staggered slowly towards the nearest pub I could see across the street; the "Boar's Head". There was nobody on the fog-shrouded streets. I hoped I could pass as a woman long enough to activate the transfer signal mechanism to tell the computers to pull me back. I had to stay "in-host" for a day in order for the signal to work properly. Just my luck! Being a bitch for a day was going to force me to demand double pay when I got back! I didn't mind being a woman, though. I had always fantasized about being one, with a slit instead of my massive cock and balls, a beautiful face and figure and big tits to top it all off. It's just the

fact that I was in a period of history that didn't give women very much power or leeway. I would have to be very feminine and submissive, yuuck!

I loathed the thought of having to deal with men, especially the ones that knew the woman whose body I occupied. My walk towards the pub was awkward; all my center of gravity was too low, and too top heavy. Before I could reach the pub, a man walked out of the shadows and asked me if I would like to be with him tonight, (disgusting).

He offered a few pound notes in one hand, carried a black, shiny, Gladstone bag in the other and smelled faintly of antiseptic. Before I could think of an appropriate response to his advances, he grabbed me by my right arm and hauled me, forcefully into the adjacent alleyway, my feminine physique offering little resistance.

My first thought was to punch the asshole right in the nose and follow up with a knee to the crotch. Before I could attempt that, he opened the bag and produced a dull, instrument, which looked like a crude scalpel and pushed it against my throat. Shocked and terrified I could only utter: "Please, Sir, don't hurt me, I'm only a simple woman looking for a place to spend the night".

For some reason, this only fueled his anger. He pressed the scalpel against my throat and grabbed me forcefully by the chin, pushing my head back. He muttered something about my being: "a filthy slut who needed to be cleansed" and then pushed the sharp tip of the scalpel against what should have been my Adam's apple.

Appalled, I stiffened and tried to knee him in the groin. My attack glanced off his turned leg, only intensifying his anger. "You filthy slut", he roared. I jumped in dismay as the tip of his scalpel started to cut into my chest as he drew it down. He didn't force it into my chest but rather cut away at my tight bodice. A few quick slices and the tight fitting bodice parted nicely, allowing my breasts to flop out, large dark nipples and all. My host’s breasts were very large and heavy, causing me to gasp at the forward-falling effect it produced.

His scalpel continued downward, cutting away my dresses, petticoats and corset, revealing the lacey pantaloons underneath. Frozen in terror, I allowed him to cut away my undergarments, panties and stockings.

The foggy night air was cold and harsh against my delicate, female pubes. He grunted as he undid his trousers, forcing his fat prick out of his pants and shoving it against my mound.

God, how disgusting it was to have to submit to that advance! I had no dick or balls any more, just a warm, little slit that was, against my will, starting to get hot and wet, as his hard male rod pushed against my suddenly wet crack. He brought the scalpel up and pressed it against my neck as his hot penis started to part my "lips".

I felt my "lips" part and yield to the hot, throbbing tool, pushing against them. Against my will, my legs almost gave way with an intense feeling of ecstasy as his dick hit my host's clit.

Was there no escape from this horrible encounter? The hand with the scalpel was now hanging limp at my left side, while his other hand grasp my right butt cheek pulling it towards him and forcing my decidedly moist slit up and towards his hard rod.

His burning-hot penis head suddenly began forcing itself into my dismayingly juicy and pliant vagina, forcing my lips apart and seeking deeper pleasures.

Women, incredibly disgusting! I thought. I reached for his scalpel hand slowly, while his fat, hard, hot dick plowed, slowly into my host's vagina.

Unwillingly, it started sending thrills up my spine and my eyes glazed over at the joy of it. God, stop! This man was trying to kill me! I quickly grabbed his hand with the scalpel, turned it and forced it deep into his belly.

He grunted with pain and I actually felt his penis start to widen inside me as he quickened his thrust deep into my very wet pussy. I forced him out of me and he fell backwards, onto the dirty street.

Showing signs of growing rage, he tried to rise up and choke me, but my hand now held the scalpel. Quickly, I grabbed his still hard penis, thrust the scalpel deep into the base, between his dick and balls and sliced down and around. Almost instantly, his scrotum and balls were in my hand. Warmed by his sticky, flowing, lifeblood, I sliced deeper. He grunted in pain, which struck a deep, emotional chord in me that I had never experienced before, forcing me to continue pushing the scalpel up and around his still hard penis.

Suddenly, his dick was severed and lying in my hand, the blood squirting out of it. I threw it against the dank, brick wall, scrambled to my feet and ran. My torn clothes started falling off of me as I ran to the nearest pub.

I fell into the arms of a "Bobby" who tried to cover me with his cloak, all embarrassed at my female nakedness and large jiggling breasts. "Aye, Missus, this is no way for a lady to run around at night, not with Jack the Ripper on the loose! Let me take you to your flat to get some clothing!"

Later that night, in the comfort of my room, I activated the signal for the computer to retrieve me and reset the settings for my mission.

Jack the Ripper was never heard from again after that night in 1888 and there was no way in hell that I was ever going back, especially in the body of a woman!

Pacman