| Sep 22 - 15:14:03 |
|
| Post Reply | Post new topic | Page: 1 |
| The Mafiamorphosis | Started by: Keats on Jan 13, '08 22:42 |
|
As Oliver McTavish awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed to a woman. He didn't immediately know he was a woman, of course. One doesn't generally reach and check their fun parts every morning upon waking, in the off chance that they've been swapped over the night. Unless you're in Vegas, of course. But I digress. Oliver McTavish had become a woman. Luckily (or unluckily if someone adapts this into a movie) Oliver had slept alone that night, so there was no beautiful woman to wake up next to him and alert him what had happened. Instead, his first hint of his metamorphosis occurred when he rolled over to hit the snooze button. Laying on his stomach, he wondered whether JohnnyAxe, in his dedication as RHM, had worked extra hard to buy some extra pillows. Mmmmmmm... JohnnyAxe, thought Oliver, as he reached out to grab the new pillows. Which made him sit up with a start, of course, as he'd just unknowingly squeezed his own funbags. Oliver loved breasts, as most men do, and had never before had a problem seeing them. Seeing them on himself, though, was a new experience for Oliver, and he rushed to the bathroom. What the hell did I do last night, wondered Oliver, as he rubbed his apparently defective eyes and walked over to the toilet to relieve himself. He stared up at the harsh white ceiling as memories of an alcohol fueled adventure through the bars and poker rooms of Chicago came flooding back to him. At which point he found himself pissing down his leg, lacking, of course, the proper aiming equipment. Naturally, this caused him to jump back, and he caught sight of himself... or herself... in the mirror. Now there's nothing wrong with being either a woman or a man, but most people do expect a certain consistency there. Shocked, Oliver incredulously began to look himself over. Where once there was a fat ass, there was a flat ass. I wonder if it is gross to check myself out, thought Oliver, as he proceeded to crane his neck backwards and give himself a bit of a spank. This isn't so bad, thought Oliver. Looking around to his front, Oliver began to scream, since his real right hand man (sorry, JohnnyAxe), had been replaced by a... well... WHERE IS MY JOHNSON, yelled Oliver, and as his cry echoed through Badass Inc., the many family members looked up and promptly started running away to hide. A rambling mass mail was soon sent out to all the members of the HQ: "If anyone spent a substantial amount of time with the boss last night, please report immediately. He/She/It has some very important questions for you. Ignore those pronouns if you don't understand. That is all. But seriously. Help.". Oliver paced back and forth. How does one become a woman? Had he watched too many romantic comedies? Taken a bit too long to decide what he was wearing last night? O God, he thought, did I drink a Cosmo? "GAHHHHHHH I SUCK!", yelled Oliver, as he threw an expensive lamp across the room, where it nearly decapitated a ducking JohnnyAxe and smashed into the wall. The RHM brushed the broken plaster off his suit and approached Oliver. "Boss," JohnnyAxe said, "there's someone here to see you about your... problem." Oliver, filled with rage, began to storm out of the room to see this mysterious visitor. Hearing JohnnyAxe gently remind him to put some clothes on, he grabbed his suit, which was now too big for him, and once again nearly ran out of the room, slowing down only to yell "STOP CHECKING ME OUT" at the more daring members of BadAss Inc. Oliver flew down the hall like a bat out of hell... on steroids. His temper had frequently boiled over, but not until the loss of his gonads had his anger manifested itself so violently. Gangsters were effortlessly pushed aside by the flaming fury of his eyes and even the pictures on the wall seemed to tilt as he passed, as if they were trying to flee from his presence. Reaching the conference room, he slammed open the door and saw a middle aged Italian man reclining in a chair. The man's dark features were barely controlled by his stretching dark hair, which was violently streaked with gray. His black suit and red shirt seemed to smolder on him, and his shining eyes seemed to dare anything, even the threads on his clothes, to try to cross him. Some men gain powers. Others are born with it. This stranger looked as if he'd been there when it was created. His smile was slim, and looked like it could cut through a car door. Oliver stared into the dark eyes and felt something he rarely did: Fear. But for men like Oliver, fear is a luxury that cannot be afforded, and his anger rose up to drown it as he approached the man and sat down in front of him. "Who the hell are you?", snapped Oliver, as his eyes narrowed and he leaned forward towards this intimidating stranger. Noticing Oliver bang his new breasts into the table that separated them, the stranger gave a predatory smile. "You should be careful with those, Oliver", he said, "I'd hate to have to give you another pair so early." Noticing Oliver's eyes searching to recall just where he'd seen this man, the stranger stood and began to walk around behind the confused leader of BadAss Inc. "Do you always forget your friends so quickly? Or perhaps you save a better retention for your enemies? If so, you should surely take a note." Leaning down to speak softly into Oliver's ear, the dark man crooned "I'm sorry... I'd taken you for a secretary... or is it sexcretary these days?". Rising, sending his chair cracking to the floor behind him, Oliver grabbed the man by his shirt and was able to shout "Who are you and what did you to me?!" before his burning hands were forced to let go. Smoothing his shirt, the smile dropped from the stranger's face. "Bad choice", he said, "but I'll chalk it up to the rebelliousness of youth. With which I am very familiar. But don't mistake familiarity for compassion. Let me explain. You, happily drunk off your ass (which looks much better now, by the way) last night, lost your soul to me in a game of poker. I was glad to win it- I'm a bit of a collector. So imagine my distress when I was informed by an associate that you, in fact, had ALREADY LOST IT TO SOMEONE ELSE AND YOU DON'T EVEN REMEMBER WHO. Now find it, or you'll never be a man again!" With the last, the stranger, staring down at him with a blazing bitterness, had broken his iron calm and in his fury indented his fist within the table in front of Oliver. Oliver, who had faced death too often to lose his control, stared back up at him and began to talk slowly. "Fine, you won my soul. I could find it for you and you can have it. Or we can go double or nothing. If I win, you change me back into a man and forget your claim to me. And if you win, you get my soul AND....". With this, Oliver leapt to his feet and opened the door to the hallway. Seeing Keats strolling by, smiling amiably at his beloved Boss, absentmindedly wondering why he was a woman, Oliver grabbed him and dragged him into the room in front of the stranger. "... HIS soul", Oliver finished. Keats looked up, confused. He held up a finger and began to speak, but quieted at the sight of his Boss and the stranger looming fiercely above him. "Fine... the poor bastard", said the stranger with a smirk and a wink towards Keats, who promptly fainted. Who can say what really happened that day? But 8 hours later, Oliver walked out as a man, carrying the unconscious Keats past the curious horde of the family. Some of the braver crewmembers ventured into the conference room after the door of the Boss's office had clicked shut, but all they saw was a burnt chair and a pile of ashes on the floor. That stranger, by the way, hasn't been seen in Chicago since. All we know for sure is that the family returned mostly to normal, and that strange day was forgotten, except for a select few who spoke of it with hushed tones in the dead of night, and that anyone asking Oliver who the beautiful woman was that was seen wearing his suit was promptly punched in the face. This certainly cut down the numbers of the curious. I hope to preserve this story without being punished too harshly; I apologize for its length, and hope that you've enjoyed it. |
|
| Report Post | Tip |
| Post Reply | View All Threads | Page: 1 |
How much do you want to tip for this post?
Minimum $20,000
Minimum $20,000
