Sins of the Ancestor Pt. 01

Author's notes: Thank you for taking a chance and reading my work. I hope you enjoy it and would love some constructive criticism of the story if you have the time and inclination.

This is entirely a work of fiction and the characters are not based on any people, living or dead. Any resemblance you might make is entirely coincidental. Oh, and Erik likes to drop the F-bomb more than I expected. If swearing kills the mood for you, this probably isn't the story you want.

***

I'm never honest when people ask about my mum. It's a question that is always there when people see us together and, much as it irritates, I get why. I'm a middling height white guy with a body earned by a gruelling gym regime, with dirty blond curls, blue eyes and a mischievous smirk that took hours of practise in the mirror to get right. My mum, however, has a couple of inches height on me, black hair and the rich caramel skin of her Indian parents.

Yeah, there's no way we're blood relations, but the truth is I can barely remember my birth-mum. She died when I was three in a car accident that also killed her parents, an accident that just left me with a gnarly scar on my right shoulder and bicep. If I try, I get. vague memories of a smile, long blond hair and a fuzzy warmth. Sara -- I couldn't pronounce Sarjita right when I was little and the name stuck -- adopted me in the wake of the accident and my earliest memories are of the two of us bonding in our grief. It's a tedious story on the retelling, so when people get the courage to ask I scowl, tell them 'I'm adopted' and change the subject.

I never told her this (and it took me years to fully realise it) but I think Sara is one of the most amazing women in the world for what she did. When she adopted me, she didn't just get a scared, angry little boy but lost her own family. She was the eldest of five and, despite only being a few years out of university, was a successful market trader at the time. Her family disowned her for her actions and she was forced to quit the investment bank that had her fast tracked to success, all to look after me.

None of that crossed my mind as I sent her call to voicemail and tossed the phone to my bed. It was the Friday 17^th of April, I was turning twenty-one in two days and there was a massive event planned at one of the local nightclubs in Leeds that promised to be too good not to have my celebrations at. It was her sixth attempt of the day and I was pretty damn peeved at her interrupting my preparations.

I mean, I had already said I'd go see her on my 21^st itself (true, I was likely to be hungover as hell and had persuaded her to drive from her home in York to me pick me up, but it was time with her) and I'd planned this for months now. It was my final year at uni, my two housemates were likewise prepping to be my wingmen for the night. I rolled my eyes as the vibrations of my phone set the bedcovers twitching and turned to my wardrobe.

I had plans to get my bedding twitching tonight, and they certainly did not involve my mum.

*

It was about four hours later that it began. We were in our second club of the night - talent in the first wasn't up to scratch - and I was showing my stuff on the dance floor as I looked for my night's fuckbuddy.

It hit my guts like a fist, powerful and from nowhere. My body jerked to a halt, earning a 'fuck's sake!' in bellowed into my ear as I stepped on a foot.

The pain was gone a moment later and I glanced about in a daze of confusion. I put my hand onto my abs, trying to figure what could possibly strike so hard and fast when it came back, stronger than before. Something had its claws on my intestines. It dug them in deeply, sending lances of pain rippling through me. I opened my mouth to scream as the claws twisted, wrenching my innards into new positions.

My scream became a barf, which in turn became a scream, this time from the lass that had been in front of me. I grabbed at my middle as a guy with Screamy looked from her to me with revulsion. Paralysed by pain, I could only stare as he pulled his arm back, as his fist flew towards...

*

Hospital. Those beeps, that low murmur, the pain throbbing from my nose, my vague thoughts took each bit of information and that was the conclusion it offered.

I felt like shit. There was my nose of course, broken again if my memory of that cricket accident from school was accurate, and a lingering discomfort had settled in my middle. That I understood, what I didn't get was the deep, weary exhaustion I felt in my limbs. My arms and legs were limp and useless with fatigue as if I'd lasted ten rounds with Ali. You could threaten me with Blofeld's slowest death-trap and I could only mewl in protest before it got me.

I cracked open an eye and instantly regretted it. Who the fuck puts such bright bulbs in a hospital? I'd sue whatever fucker thought up-

"Fuck, Erik, you awake?"

The groan died on my lips as something uncomfortable squeezed into my chest. I knew that voice. It had been years, and last time I heard it had been when she screamed at me to fuck off and die. I would know her anywhere.

It belonged to Jenny. Jenny, the girl I met in infant school, my closest friend for years. Jenny, the girl grown into a bitch, all black makeup and hair dye.

I wish I didn't feel so relieved that she was here.

I forced my eye open again, winced against the light and looked around. I was in a hospital room, bland in beige glory. I looked lower and met her gaze. Her eyes were full of concern, but all I could think of was what the-

"-fuck're you doing here?"

Well, that shot down her concern at least. She glowered at me with the malice only a goth can manage. Her words came out clipped short with anger. "I was with your mum when she got the call you were here and unresponsive, fuckwad. We came straight here for you." Jenny pressed her lips together and shook her head once. "Pull your head out of your arse, Erik. 'Jita's been worried sick trying to get hold of you but, let me guess, you had pussy to hunt, huh? Think of someone else's feelings for once. I'm going to get 'Jita." She was good to her word and stormed out of my room.

What. A. Bitch.

That was my first thought. I was sick and beaten and she had launched an attack on me. Want to crush my balls while you're at it? Oh no, dykes don't touch man parts. Maybe get a bat or something and whack them instead. In fact...

A wave of heat and nausea roiled through me, leaving my muscles uncomfortable and punctured my anger. Jenny knew me. Really knew me. She had held my hand after I was told about the accident, had given all the comfort a child could to her grieving friend. We had been inseparable from then, until puberty came and we developed...

I reflexively reached for my anger. I'm not introspective, and focussing on things like how my friendship with Jenny ended was something I avoided like the obese chicks at the end of an unsuccessful night's clubbing. I channel it, using it to drive my work outs, to shrug off rejections and, well, get through life. Some people depict anger as some festering pustule but I knew better, I knew that it was a powerful driving force that I had harnessed.

It was also gone.

I felt a moment's panic. I had been angry as long as I knew, reacting with it was who I was and for the first time, it was missing. In desperation, and no doubt because she had just been there, I thought of Jenny. Of hours spent thinking about her, being close to her, of how I had first discovered wanking and had thought of her as I stroked myself to my first ever orgasms.

Desperately, I thought of day at the end of summer before our final year at school. It was hot and we were meandering our way through the local woods as we had done countless times before. That day was different. I had plans that made my palms sweat. Jenny was everything the young, stupid me thought he had wanted and I began to tell her that and, ultimately, ask to date.

I could see it again in my memory, how she squirmed, twisted and interrupted my speech.

"Erik, I'm gay."

I waited for the anger that always accompanied the memory. How the pain that had crushed my chest became useful, letting me lash out and hide my intentions. Instead, all I could do was think of Jenny. Of how she had squirmed with discomfort as I had spoken. How I, her best friend, hadn't known that she liked chicks.

Jenny liked women. Unbidden, my mind began to follow the chain of thoughts.

Fuck. Jenny was a lesbian and had no one to support her. She had told her closest friend and he had flung it at her, screamed homophobic shit and abandoned her for hurting him. I swallowed, the ache in my throat a welcome distraction from the realisation. I had no anger left in me. Just had the realisation that I was a world class prick to a friend that had needed so much more.

My epiphany was interrupted by the door bursting open. "Erik." Sara's voice was tight though I couldn't tell if that was from anger, relief or just plain tiredness. I guess something showed in my expression though, because her tone softened as she moved to my bed. "Erik, I've spoken with the doctors. They want to run some tests but you have to trust me, we need to go home. Now."

I frowned at her, recognising her tone. She would not back down from this, if I fought her choice we would have a blazing row. She rarely used it, this was serious. And she didn't want me in a hospital?

"Erik, listen to 'Jita. You gotta discharge yourself and come home." Shit. Jenny was with her in this? Dread flooded through me as I looked between the two. My eyes were blurred. That'll be from the punch to my nose. Honest. Their expressions were mirrors of concern and resolve.

Whatever was going on with me, they clearly knew more than I did. I coughed as a spasm constricted my chest. "Okay, okay. Get me the forms"

*

I think I surprised them both when I climbed into the back seat of Sara's Citroen. I'd long ago established that I had permanent shotgun in my mum's car, but I really didn't want to talk to either of them. Jenny took the hint with a shrug and climbed into the passenger seat. They tried to make some small talk with me but after a couple of grunts for answers, they stopped.

I was too busy trying to catalogue the issues wrong with my body. The doctor, miffed by my insistence on leaving, had insisted that I use a wheelchair to get to the car so I had barely walked yet every movement of my body felt wrong.

It's hard to put into words quite what it felt like. It was almost as if I'd been spun in a circle, over and over, the swirling chaotic feeling that filled me. Yet, at the same time I wasn't dizzy. The pain in my muscles had gone, replaced with the satisfying, weary ache a hard workout gives. My nose still hurt. That pain had stayed consistent, if perhaps a little easier and I'd place money on having black eyes by morning (though normally, I earn the punch by trying to shag a guy's missus, not by puking on her).

I spent the drive hugging myself as I catalogued these sensations. My clothes were looser than I remembered but I guess Sara had brought old clothes from my closet and my exercises had slimmed me more than I thought. I could feel heat rising out of me through my skin yet I didn't feel feverish.

Then there were my nipples. These did feel heated to me, as well as an inch or so around each nub. The tissue there demanded my attention, almost like I needed to scratch away an itch. I say almost, I tried scratching and it offered no relief.

It was nearing midday by the time Sara pulled into our drive and my gut was rumbling out a protest. She smiled at me in the mirror "Some things never change. Cheese and ham toasty?"

I mumbled a yes and opened the door of the car, making it halfway down the drive before the next spasm hit me. My body tensed, limbs flung into some gross parody of the Vitruvian man. Every muscle in me was drawn taut, every tendon stretched to its limit it seemed. I had exclamations from both the women behind me in alarm.

The episode ended violently in one powerful, body shaking shudder that dropped me to the floor and left me dazed. Something was weird though, the semi-conscious part of me realised as at no point had I actually been in pain during the attack. I had been overloaded with sensation with every nerve in me clamouring for attention, the only pain that struck had been as my head hit the floor.

I don't remember Jenny and Sara, nor the few hours that followed, just a few flashes. Jenny enjoys telling me I raved nonsensically for some of the time and occasionally torments me with phrases I reported said like "The ducks are terrifying revolutionaries" and "Jedi knight in dungarees". I don't know if she's just having fun with me or not, but I figure it's a small price to pay for what I'd done to her.

When I more or less came back to myself, I was lying on the sofa and my view was filled with breasts. They were so close I could have craned my neck forwards to bury my face in their mass, had I the energy. And they were pretty big, I'd say a large D cup bordering on a double D. I could see from the strap that the bra was black and fairly old (there was some slight fraying). Over it, she was wearing a simple black strappy top but through it I could see her erect nipples standing proud.

"Jenny."

The twins jerked sharply as she yelped, a splash of water hit my head and drew back quickly. She looked at me, somehow showing bemusement, concern and anger simultaneously. Never let it be said that she couldn't multitask. She was holding a glass of water.

"You know me by my boobs? Pervert."

"No, I... You're so different to Sara..." I trailed off, the water snagging my attention. Thirst had dried my throat and talking only exacerbated it. She noticed and held the water away from me.

"Nope. Admit it. You're a tit-loving, small minded, homophobic pervert." Bitch. I ignored her and reached for the glass. She stepped back. "Admit it or no water-"

"Jenny." Sara spoke her name as a sigh as she entered the room. "Much as he might deserve it, you know he needs the drink. Please pass it to him." She did so, smirking all the while, and I sat up to drink it down greedily. Water, when you are parched, is the sweetest thing in the world and I groaned softly as I felt it cool my fever-hot body. That and the breeze over my torso felt-

Breeze?

I looked down and noted three things. First was that they had stripped me. They had stripped me and covered me with a blanket that had fallen to my waist when I sat up. Second, was that my long-maintained, gym-sculpted body was gone. My pecs were soft and loose, my biceps faded and abs... oh man, I spent ages on my abs. I jumped to my feet, shouting wordlessly in surprise. Not only was I completely naked but apparently the heat I felt was not just a fever. My cock stood at full mast: red, swollen and demanding attention.

"See. Pervert's getting off on this." Anger flashed through me at Jenny's hypocrisy. It was not a cold day and I had figured years ago that her nipples jutted out when she had the horn. My hand shot out, fingers pinching closed on her left nub, clamping hard.

"Fucker!" She yelled as I cried "Bitch!", both of us shifting our feet and getting ready to smack at each other. You might think little of me for hitting a woman, but playing rough had been part of the dynamic of our friendship for years. Part of me found it quite reassuring.

"ENOUGH." We both knew that tone in Sara's voice and instantly backed down. "Erik. Sit down and cover yourself. Jenny, sit over there and shut up. This is not the time, Erik needs to know."

I shivered at her words, triggering another shuddering arch of my back. Heat and arousal rose in me and I ached for the relief of a wank.

What the hell was wrong with me? I really wanted to jerk my cock now, in front of my mum and m... and Jenny? I looked at Sara. "W-what do I need to know?" My voice cracked with nerves and Sara's look of sympathy filled me with fear.

She didn't answer at first, instead moving to the sofa, smoothing her skirt and sitting down next to me.

"The truth about who you are, about your mum, your dad and even about me, a little." I stared at her. She smoothed her skirt, avoiding my eyes and reaching for an old photo album. She began to flick through as she spoke.

"I tried to find out all I could for you, Erik. I've tried for years but the only two people who knew anything died in the accident. I..."

She swallowed, staring at a photo in front of her. It was her years ago, before I had been born. Her arm was linked with a toned, blond hunk and both had the sickening grins of lovers on their faces. "Erik, the man in this picture is your mother."

I was exhausted, it had been a gruelling eighteen hours. I had been beaten and puked, I was so filled with horniness that my cock still tented the blanket despite my mum being right there (no, no incest fantasies held here). My body burned and shook with the sheer weight of all it was enduring. That's why the best thought I could vocalise was:

"You. Fucking. What?"

"There's this thing, a curse or something, it runs through your family. Always has your gran said. Your mum and I... your dad and I..."

"Woah woah, what the fuck. You know who my dad is?" I had never been told.

"Yes. No... it's complicated, Erik. I... I-" You have to understand that Sarjita does not get flustered. She has the calm and poise of Cleopatra no matter the situation. Seeing her so twisted was scaring the hell out of me and I guess Jenny too, as she jumped in.

"Your swapping genders, boyo. Losing the dick and growing a clit. Your out-y is becoming an in-y. Happened to your mum, your gran, your great gran... you get the picture. You're going to be a woman, tits and all. Oh! And want to know the best bit?"

"Jenny. Enough."

I burst into laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of the statement and looked between the two, searching for the humour. Jenny grinned, a triumphant smile of vindication rather than jest. Sara looked at me, worry creasing her brow. Neither was joking. My laugh faltered to a halt.

"No fucking way."

"It's true." Sara was calm again, now that the news was broken. I stared in her eyes, searching for some hope that this was a bad joke, that the sheer wrongness I felt in my body had another explanation. I could see the truth reflected in her pupils, my reflection was different. A shade of the man I had been. Softened contours, my blue eyes somehow seemed larger. I looked like a young woman.

Something in me broke then and I crumpled into tears, falling into her embrace. I cried openly, my shoulders shaking and chest heaving with each ragged breath. Sara held me, one hand rubbing my back soothingly. It felt good. Too good. It didn't matter that she was twice my age, didn't matter that she was mother to me in all ways bar blood.

What mattered was that she was close. I could feel the warmth of her hand exciting rather than soothing my skin as she stroked. I could feel the heat of her body, so close to mine. My tears quietened. My breathing smoothed in deep, heavy lungful's of her scent. My cock, harder than ever, pressed against her thigh. I shifted my hips, moving it slightly to rub against her skirt. Fuck it was good, I moved again and...

...found myself held at arm's length from Sara. "No Erik. Your body is building for the final change into womanhood. You're flooded with hormones right now and it's fogging your thoughts, I know that's not what you actually want. Erik, sweetie, I'm going to leave and you need to masturbate. Your climax will sort things out. Okay?"

Okay? No it wasn't okay. What the did she mean, sort things out? I was changing sex! Everything I had, everything I was would be gone and some damn bitch would live out my life instead. "NO!" I exploded. "No it's not okay, it's so fu-"