index


Message-ID: <38352asstr$1032178205@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
Mime-Version: 1.0
From: J R D <jrdss@pobox.alaska.net>
Subject: {ASSM} Zodiac Coin: Taurus (tg) [1/3]
Date: Mon, 16 Sep 2002 08:10:05 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Here's my latest. This story is a little departure from my usual fare 
in that the transformation, the main one at least, is a female to 
male transformation. It's not that hard to envision, considering that 
the bull is an almost classic symbol of masculinity.

Now onto the boring stuff

-------------------------

DISCLAIMERS

-------------------------

This story contains scenes of an erotic and/or controversial nature, 
and is not intended for the perusal of minors.  Further if perusal of 
such material is considered illegal in your area or immoral by your 
religion or personal beliefs, you should likewise bypass this story.

This story remains the property of the author.  Permission is granted 
to download, photocopy, copy and repost so long as any such action 
contains these disclaimers, and no attempt is made to profit from 
this story.

All characters in this story are the creation of the author, and any 
resemblance to real persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental.

This story may contain aspects of fantastic science or magic.  The 
parameters of what this science/magic can accomplish are completely 
at the discretion of me, the author, and, as such, I make no 
apologies for any rules of "real" physics, chemistry, biology, or 
magic that may be broken within the story.

-------------------------

Now onto the fun stuff

-------------------------

ZODIAC COIN: TAURUS

2250 YEARS AGO...

He was a farmer, just a farmer, but he dared to defy the gods.

He had always been a believer. He had always been a supplicant to the 
powers that be, keeping his head bowed even in the presence of the 
graven images of the gods.

But all that changed that last winter. The crops had been poor last 
fall and at the beginning of winter they barely had enough food 
stored to get them through to spring. But that was before his family 
had grown very sick. His wife and his two children had both 
contracted a strange, wasting disease. He was not extremely 
knowledgeable about tending to diseases, but he knew more than anyone 
else in his little town, but nothing he did helped. He spent hours 
reciting prayer after prayer to try to help, but that did nothing 
either. Halfway between the winter solstice and the spring equinox, 
his family was lost to him.

He had to wait until the spring thaw in order to bury his family. He 
said a few words to their spirits to help them rest, but he made 
especially sure to include no words to the gods, for he felt they 
were nothing but shams.

After his private ceremony, he went to the family storage area and 
retrieved the breastplate that had been handed down from his 
grandmother and the sword that he had received from his father, a 
soldier who had retired to become a farmer. His grandmother had 
claimed that the breastplate was magical, and his father had called 
the sword blessed. He neither knew nor cared whether either or both 
claims were true, for with the death of his family, so too died his 
urge to continue living.

But he would not just lie down and wait for death, nor would he take 
his own life. He would die doing what he could to injure those he 
blamed for his family's deaths. So he set out to the home of the 
gods, Mount Olympus. He marched for many days, somehow always finding 
food or shelter when it was needed, but when he reached the base of 
Mount Olympus, the challenges truly began. Howling wind, driving 
rains, and blinding snow all attempted to blow him from the side of 
the mountain as he climbed. He even had to face the earth splitting 
open under his feet and lightning strikes that came from nowhere. But 
nothing even slowed him down.

He pulled himself on top of the mountain and saw the palace of the 
gods. It's perfect beauty left no doubt as to that. However, he was 
too angry to be impressed. He marched into the center area, not even 
wondering about why the palace seemed so empty, or where the gods 
were. He didn't question it when the only one that he found was Zeus, 
lord of the gods. He didn't question that Zeus seemed pale and sick. 
And he didn't question that there was no resistance when he struck 
with his sword. The farmer would never know that it was the starmetal 
breastplate that had depleted Zeus to the point where a simple, metal 
sword, which was special only in the mind of his father, could kill a 
god.

When Zeus died, he exploded in a blast that destroyed the top of the 
mountain. The farmer and his sword were utterly destroyed in that 
blast. The starmetal was not so easily eliminated. It was flung from 
the mountain top to crash in the countryside.

After the dreams and beliefs of the newly emerging Roman Empire 
formed new gods based on the old, the first thing they did was 
eliminate all trace of this incident in the minds of the people. It 
wouldn't do to have mortals know that there was something that could 
kill a god.

************

A POLITICAL ACTION COMMITTEE OFFICE...

"C'mon, Julie, you're the only one who can get close enough to ask him."

"Yeah, but I don't know him that well. He's only a distant cousin."

"So what's the harm in trying?"

Julie Baron really couldn't argue that one, even if she had been 
talking with just some other worker in their little political group 
and not the group's head, Roxanne Mathis.

Julie replied, "I don't know. I just don't like the idea of bugging 
family for money."

"Believe me, I understand, but we need the money, he is rich, he is 
your family, and I just found out that he is a vegetarian."

Julie understood about the need for money. Their group was a 
pro-vegetarian advocacy group, but unlike their more militant peers, 
they only advocated the soft sell, education of the benefits of a 
vegetarian lifestyle. Unfortunately, since they didn't make radical 
asses of themselves, they didn't get the same press, and not getting 
the same press, they didn't get as many donations, which meant that 
they were always operating on a shoestring budget, and as the group's 
treasurer, Julie knew that all too well.

"All right, I'll go ask him, but I'm not guaranteeing anything. I 
haven't seen him since when we were in high school."

"All you need to do is ask. The worst that can happen is that he'll 
turn us down."

After leaving Roxanne's office, Julie called her cousin, Paul Becker, 
whereupon she had to get through a couple levels of secretarial 
interference before she heard, "Hey, Piddle Girl, it's been a long 
time. What can I do for you?"

"First off, you can forget that old nickname." The name "Piddle Girl" 
was an unfortunate throwback to when she was only five years old and 
she accidentally peed in the wading pool.

Paul chuckled. "Sorry. But you can't convince me that this is just a 
social call, not since it's been almost two decades since the last 
time I saw you."

"No, it's not, but can I come see you? I've got something to ask, but 
I don't want to just do it over the phone."

"Sure. You know where I live?"

"Yeah, I think I'd have to be living in a cave not to. You've made 
quite a name for yourself in this town."

"I suppose I have. So when can I expect you?"

"The sooner, the better, I guess. Would you be busy for the next 
couple of hours?"

"Not at all. How long will it take you to get here?"

"About 15 to 20 minutes, depending on the traffic lights."

"Then I'll see you in twenty."

Julie quickly got in her car and drove out to her cousin's place. It 
was in the richest part of town, and his place was one of the 
largest. Just getting there took fifteen minutes, and the drive from 
the front gate took a couple extra. As soon as she pulled up to the 
front steps, she was met by a female valet who quickly took her car. 
Another woman walked up to her and said, "Miss Baron, I am Mr. 
Becker's personal secretary. I am here to escort you to him."

"Okay, lead away."

The woman then proceeded to lead Julie through a mansion of opulence 
that took longer to get through than it had taken to drive up from 
the front gate. Finally, she was led outside to an Olympic sized 
swimming pool that had around 20 or 30 women cavorting about like 
children.

Julie looked around and finally spotted one man amongst all the 
women. He was reclining in a deck chair, dressed only in a kilt, with 
a woman on her knees beside him doing his nails, like some scene out 
of some college boy's Greek themed fantasy. Julie assumed that this 
was Paul, and she didn't know whether she was more disappointed or 
angry, but she was here for a reason, so when the secretary led her 
over to the man, she swallowed her emotions and said, "Paul?"

The man looked up and in her general direction. "Hey, Julie, haven't 
heard from you in a while. So how have you been?"

"Doing okay, and you?"

"Definitely can't complain. So what can I do for you?"

"Well, I'm working for a local vegetarian lifestyle advocacy group, 
and I hear that you're a vegetarian, so I was wondering if I could 
hit you up for a donation."

"I might be able to arrange that, but first I'll have to learn a few 
things." He turned to the woman at his side and said, "Margaret, I've 
got some business," and tried to pull his hand away.

The woman ignored him and kept a firm grip on his hand. While 
continuing to file on his nails, she said, "You haven't seen her in 
two decades, she can wait 30 seconds more."

Paul looked back to Julie and shrugged. "I guess we're going to have to wait."

After a little bit longer, the woman said, "Finished," and stood up. 
She then waved the nail file at him and said, "Next time, don't let 
those nails get so bad before coming to me. Am I going to have to 
impose daily inspections?"

Paul raised his hands in mock fear. "No, ma'am, I'll be good."

The woman said, "Good," while putting her nail file back into her 
kit. She then leaned over and gave Paul an affectionate kiss and went 
back to the pool.

Paul stood up, called out, "Linda, I've got some accounting work," 
and turned towards the house. He then said to Julie, "Shall we head 
to my study?"

Julie shrugged and said, "Sure."

Paul's secretary put her hand in the crook of his elbow as a woman 
pulled herself out of the pool behind them. Paul, without looking 
back to either Julie or the woman, said, "Julie, this is Linda, my 
accountant." The two shared a brief greeting before Paul started 
walking towards the house.

At first, Julie was upset with her cousin, thinking that because he 
had made it big, he was now treating everyone around him like they 
were peasants, not bothering to look at any of them. But as they 
walked, she noticed something. His eyes never really focused on 
anything, barely even seeming to notice doors and walls. A little 
ways into the house, she asked, "Paul, are you blind?"

Paul replied simply, "Damn near. I'm horribly near sighted, can't see 
a thing past about ten feet, and even within that, I can only make 
out vague outlines. It's enough so that I don't walk into any walls 
or furniture, but not much more."

"I'm so sorry to hear that, and I apologize for what I was thinking."

"What exactly was that?"

"Well, with your not looking at anybody and that girl on her knees 
beside you, I figured you'd become some kind of stuck up, rich snob."

"I'd like to think that my blindness keeps me humble, and I don't 
look at people because I can barely see them when they're standing 
right in front me. As for Margaret, well, she takes her job a little 
too seriously."

"What is her job?"

"She's my appearance manager. I'm not only near blind, I'm also color 
blind, so I hired Margaret to make sure I always look my best. She 
picks out my clothes, my hair style, makes sure my nails are trim, 
that kind of stuff. I returned from a business trip this morning, and 
when she saw my nails just a little bit ago, she harangued me about 
letting them get into that atrocious state. Not being able to see 
that level of detail any more, I couldn't very well argue it with 
her, but I suspect it wasn't as bad as she made it out. In Margaret's 
mind, a chipped nail is cause for emergency intervention."

"I don't think I could take that. I'd be screaming like a banshee 
after just a day of that."

"Possibly, but a word of advice, if you have to make a choice, always 
choose someone who'll over do their job, rather than not do it 
properly. Besides, I know Margaret does it because she cares, not 
only about her job, but about me."

They finally got to Paul's study, a posh affair with soft, plush 
chairs and a big, oak desk. Paul went to the chair behind the desk, 
sat down, and said, "So tell me about this little group you're a part 
of."

Julie sat down, hoping she didn't make too much of fool of herself. 
She was her group's money cruncher. She was one of the people who 
decided where the money went after they got it. Getting it in the 
first place was not her strength.

"Okay, I don't have anything prepared though, so this is going to be 
a little rough. Basically speaking, we're a vegetarian lifestyle 
advocacy group. We try to educate everyone as to the benefits. We try 
to get local restaurants to offer vegetarian alternatives. That kind 
of stuff."

"Before I make a decision, tell me something. Is your group 
pro-vegetarian or pro-animal rights? Is your group one of those that 
goes around throwing blood on people because they're wearing furs?"

"No, sir, we are definitely not one of those. We are strictly into 
the soft sell."

"Good, then I can agree to help you. How much money do you need?"

"Right now, we could use about fifty to a hundred thousand, but 
whatever you can give would be great."

Julie actually figured he'd offer less, which was why she was so 
surprised when he said, "How about a million?"

"A million?"

"Too little? How about a million five? That should get you through at 
least until the end of the year."

"And then some, but that's way more than I need. Can you afford that?"

"Easily. I'll make that up in a couple of weeks. I assume your group 
is a fully tax-exempt nonprofit organization."

"Yes, sir."

"Then we're in business. Linda, I need a check."

Linda stepped up and went to Paul's desk and got out a check writing 
machine. As she worked it, Julie decided to make small talk and said, 
"So, Paul, if you don't mind me asking, how did you lose your 
eyesight? Was it a disease or an accident or what?"

"Nope, it was just part of the cost of my success."

"What do you mean? You were too busy building up your business to go 
to a doctor?"

"Not exactly."

"Well, what then?"

Paul smiled. "Tell me, Julie. Do you believe in magic?"

"You mean like stage tricks and illusions?"

"No, Julie. I mean real magic, the kind of stuff that can turn the 
world on its ear."

"Not really. I mean if somebody showed me some kind of evidence of 
it, I'd be willing to believe, but otherwise, no."

"Get ready for evidence." Paul opened the front desk drawer, reached 
into it, and pressed some hidden switch, causing a section of the 
wall behind him to rise up and reveal a safe.

"Wow. I never would have guessed that that safe was there."

"Yeah, I figured putting it behind a picture would just be too 
cliche." Paul stood up, turned to and opened the safe, and then 
reached inside. Julie couldn't see inside. The safe seemed built to 
keep light out of it. Considering that Paul was blind, it made sense. 
After a few seconds, Paul pulled his hand out and said, "Here it is."

"Here what is?"

Paul held up a small gold coin so that Julie could see it. "It's 
called the Taurus coin. It grants wishes."

"Be serious. "

"I am being serious. This coin grants wishes."

"Alright then, show me. Make a wish."

"I can't. The coin only grants three wishes, and I've already used three."

"Well, that's convenient."

"Believe me, I know how you feel. I wasn't too sure about this thing 
when I first got it, but it definitely works."

"Okay, say I believe you, what's this got to do with your blindness?"

"The coin requires a cost. The blindness was part of it."

"Only part of it? What else was involved?"

"My vegetarianism for one. Sometimes, part of me still wants a steak 
or burger, but I wind up getting sick just at the smell."

"Well, I'm a little disappointed that it wasn't your choice, but it 
is better for you. Anything else?"

"These muscles. I didn't get these from working out."

"Doesn't seem like much of a cost. It seems more like a fringe benefit."

"It might be if I had gained any extra ability to control this body. 
I still think and act as though I were only a hundred and 
seventy-five pounds. If I'm not real familiar with my surroundings, 
then I have to go real slow or-"

"Or you're like a bull in a china shop?"

Paul smiled. "Exactly."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, but I hesitate to talk about it. It's a little private."

"Hey, if you can't talk private stuff with your family, who can you talk with?"

"Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you. The fact is, every wish 
increased the size of my penis. Proverbially speaking, I am now hung 
like a bull."

"And that's supposed to be a limitation?"

"It can be. First off, my clothes need to be extra baggy in order to 
accommodate me, so nothing really fits or looks good on me any more, 
and even with the baggiest boxers, part of me is hanging out of the 
leg holes. Normally, around the house, I go naked. I'm just wearing 
this kilt because you're here."

"Still, considering everything you've got, this big house, all your 
money, a huge, multinational corporation at your beck and call, it 
definitely seems worth it."

"Oh, it is. I've got to say that the blindness scared the hell out of 
me at first, but now that I've gotten used to it, it's not so bad."

"I could definitely think of worse fates."

"Good." Paul tossed the coin to Julie, and she instinctively caught 
it. "It's yours now." As soon as Julie held the coin, she felt ideas 
and images in her mind, everything Paul had told her and a little 
more. "I was thinking of passing it on to one of my kids, but since I 
have no idea when that will be, I decided to give it to you."

"Is this some kind of trick? Is there something on the coin that is 
making me think these things in my head?"

"I know. In today's modern, practical society, we're not supposed to 
believe in magic, but the coin is for real. Look, if you're willing 
to pay the price and waste one wish, use your first wish for 
something small, like the girlfriend of your dreams."

"Why not the boyfriend of my dreams?"

"I thought you were a lesbian? Back in high school, you never dated 
anything but girls, the most feminine girls the school had, if I 
recall correctly."

"Yeah, well, it turns out it wasn't really the girls I was attracted to."

"It wasn't?"

Julie shifted uncomfortably for a few seconds before saying, "It 
turns out that I've got a nearly overpowering fetish. I'm into 
skirts."

"I assume you're not talking about a slang term for girls."

"Nope. I'm into skirts, or more accurately, I'm into my lovers 
wearing them. Nothing excites me more than the thought of crawling 
under a skirt and sucking on what's under there. What actually is 
under there doesn't really matter to me. The longest, most intense 
relationship I ever had was with a cross-dresser. I think we'd still 
be together if his company hadn't transferred him to another state."

"I'd never have guessed. So guys in skirts turn you on?"

"Anybody in skirts turns me on, the longer the skirt the better. 
Miniskirts don't really do it for me, but if I see somebody wearing 
one of those old Victorian style skirts, where you HAD to lift it up 
as you walked, or you'd trip over it, then I'm practically drooling."

Paul gave Julie a lascivious smile. "So what do you think of me in this kilt?"

-- 
"This is reality, not T.V.  Can't you tell the difference?"
"Sure, I just like T.V. better."

jrdss@alaska.net
ICQ#37222294
J R D

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}|
|Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org>      |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+