Sins of the Ancestor Pt. 03

Rain woke me. Big, fat drops of decidedly rude water, splatting against my window. I blinked away sleep and peered about in confusion at the familiar setting. The faint shifting of my breasts as I rolled made sure I knew the change hadn't been a dream. Thanks, tits.

My room had gotten darker as I slept. I don't mean a small amount, like the clouds had come over. I meant as in I'd slept for hours and the sun was now setting. Crap. I shoved off the duvet and sat up. It was nearly seven in the evening, I'd slept for fricking hours. Dammit. I had... well, I had no great plans but still. Grr! Bad body, sleeping and resting like that.

An odd, flakiness between my legs reminded me of my antics. I flicked on the bedside lamp. Yup, there was dried cum, both Dan's and mine, over my thighs and pussy. I probably smelt a bit ripe too. I stood up and reached for my towel to go, grab a shower. Fucking hell, did I really used to rub myself dry with this thing? It had been worn over the years, the soft fabric turned rough and, ugh, it smelt. I dropped it, grabbed a hand towel that I'd barely used (as Erik, I'd just shower if I was dirty) and headed across the landing to the bathroom.

Naked.

In a guys house.

Oops.

Thankfully the path was empty and I quickly locked the door behind me. One swift whore's bath and a use of a borrowed comb later had me listening at the door for the opportunity to get my naked butt back into Erik's room to dress. It sounded clear, I took the chance.

I was almost home free when Joe stepped out in front of me. He glanced at my tits, grinning like he'd just caught a naked slut running about in his house. Bloody nerve of that guy. I felt my cheeks warm but I resolutely refused to cover up my body.

"Hi Kat." He greeted my chest. Damn, those women were right. It was fucking annoying. Who knew. Now I crossed my arms under my knockers.

"Yeah, hi. Get out the way and stop staring now?"

"Huh? Crap, gotcha, soz." He stepped aside and, really, did not look sorry in the slightest. He says really says 'soz', lol and lmao too, Dan and I mock him for it. Mocked him for it. Whatever. I slipped past him and, on impulse, smacked his arse as I did so. He looked so astonished at me I couldn't help but laugh in his face as I shut the door.

Well, he'd had a view of my tits, I could treat him like a piece of ass too. I feel perfectly justified in my actions. I was perfectly entitled to treat a man like an ob.. ject... I stilled as I realised what I had just thought. Was I really that comfortable being female already? Fuck no. I wanted my body back. I wanted my solid chest, washboard abs, my cock, I wanted-

Shoving the thought aside, I silently dressed with a mental prayer of thanks that I didn't have to figure out a bra or worse, tights. I was done here. I snatched up the charger and thrust it into my bag. My other shit could wait, right. That cologne? It'd be binned. Clothes wouldn't fit, charity for them I guess. Condoms? Okay, those I could still use and grabbed them before I could think too much about it. I stared at vestiges of my life and felt the need for something profound.

I had nothing. "Fuck it," I muttered and left.

The Cactus hadn't moved. Of course it hadn't. That thing is so ugly I could have left the doors open and key in the ignition and still come back to it hours later. I rushed to it through the rain, tossing my bag into the back as I slipped into the driver's seat. I very precisely picked up my list, carefully put a line through points four and seven before placing it on the passenger seat. Then, I went limp. My arms fell into my lap and my head thumped back into the headrest, letting me stare up at the rain hitting the oversized sunroof.

Holy. Fuck.

I'd done it. More than done it. Double done it. Menage-a-done-it. Ticked off two lines of my list. Fuck, three lines. I had a name too. That realisation brought a startled laugh from me. I had no clue why I thought of Katja but it was both a scandinavian name and belonged to no one I knew. I would always confess to the second reason, but I'd sooner gnaw off my hand at the wrist than admit that the first - and it's connection to my birth mum - had a special meaning for me.

Well, sitting here on my arse did nothing. I could think and drive well enough. I grabbed my phone, found the old message and typed Jenny's address into the inbuilt satnav. A perk of sleeping so late meant I had missed the commuter traffic and should be at her place in under an hour. I shrugged, started the car and pulled away.

I was driving as it really began to sink in. I had had sex with my two closest friends whilst lying to them about who I was. My cunt and throat were reminding me with a shared, lingering soreness that I'd been ignoring.

I had fucked men. Willingly. Hell, more than fucked. I had started and led the encounter. Just days ago, sex with another man was as alien to me as the jiggling of my tits. Now I had spread my legs, opened my mouth and told them to get in me.

That was... well, it was fucking enormous. I was bi. Men, women. Didn't matter, I'd fuck them, let them shoot down my throat or...

Crap. I needed to get a morning after pill. Did that need a prescription? If so, I was fucked (ha bloody ha, pun was so not in-fucking-tended). Katya didn't exist to get a prescription. I racked my mind but no answer came. I'd not paid attention to that in sex ed, dismissing it as 'for girls to worry about'. Irony, you're a cruel bitch at times. Maybe Jenny would know. You know, Jenny. Jenny my friend. Jenny, the lesbian who had never slept with a guy. If I hadn't been driving I would have headbutted the steering wheel. Calm thoughts were needed and in short supply. Damn, that fuck was supposed to help clear my head, not mess it up more.

I focused on the road instead, reducing my world to me, the motorists and the computer woman guiding my route. That I could handle, the only noticeable change to driving was the seat belt digging into my tit. A quick adjustment sorted that out. It worked, the drive was uneventful and I soon found myself pulling up to a string of terraced two-up, two-down houses in York. Jenny lived further back on the left somewhere but parking was difficult and this closest spot I found. I double checked her house number, put the cap on the pen, placed it and the pad away, checked my hair and realised that I was procrastinating like a pro.

Get a grip of yourself. Things might be weird as hell but this is Jenny. It'll figure itself out. Right?

I still did one last check before I left the car and, huddled against the drizzle, hurried to her door. I knocked. Waited, knocked again and heard a distant "Just a minute".

The door was opened by a Greek goddess wrapped in lace and silk. She was tall, taller than me without the rise of the step she stood on. Her hair was even shorter than mine, bright purple and twisted to her left as if windswept. She had a strong jaw, clear skin and stunning baby blues.

Her arms and shoulders... crap, she was easily stronger than I had been as Erik and, while not bulging, she had a fluid power in those smooth limbs that made me sure she could toss me over the house had she wanted. Ever seen a classic Greek sculpture? If not, look one up. In them, you can see both power and femininity in curves of their bodies, strength and softness. This woman epitomised this concept, as if a masterpiece had taken a breath and dyed its hair. I felt like a twiglet in comparison.

I could see the peaks of her nipples on her D cups through the fabric, as well as the hoops she had piercing each. Her body was swathed in a kimono, black with dragons swirling through it. She hadn't bothered to tie it. Her lips, coloured a rich red, were moving as if she were talking... oh crap. She was talking.

"Uh... I... I... Jenny?" Great. Now I'd forgotten how to speak.

Her lack of amusement was clear. "Jenny is indisposed. Try calling her next time, I hear phones have that function." Okay, so her body might have been sculpted by Michelangelo but her voice was nothing remarkable and the dripping condescension set my hackles to kill.

"Do I look like I care?" Aggression, it always helps, right? I raised my voice "She can fucking well get un-indisposed for me." She started to close the door. I got in the way, but I knew there's no way I could beat her natural strength. Time for desperate measures. "JENNY! It's..." shit, she didn't know my name yet. I cringed inwardly, "It's Erika, I need to-"

I yelped as the door was yanked open. I was too off balance to even think of stopping her from grabbing a fistful of my shirt, dragging me inside and slamming me into the wall.

"So you're the slut she fucked? And you dare turn up here?" She did not shout. Instead, her voice had turned so cold that I expected to see it frost the air. "Well?"

I wasn't too scared to answer. Honestly, in everything you've read about me, have I ever backed down? Between the pressure pinning me to the wall and the air gone from my lungs at the impact, I couldn't answer and that lack of response, apparently, was wrong. I didn't see her move, just heard the crack of her blow and the burst of pain from my cheek.

Shit. Slapped? Really?

"Answer me! Why are you here?" She'd hit me yet still she didn't shout. I blinked at her, struggling against her pin with both hands but she had the advantage of height, weight and position and used it well.

"Bethan! Please, put her down." Jenny's voice had never been so welcome. I glanced at the doorway and lost the pitiful dregs of air I had sucked in.

Jenny was in full goth make up, had her tits out and her nipple piercings (damn, I wish I'd gotten her bra off when she fucked me) linked by a chain, complete weights hanging down from the centre. She wore a pvc half corset, black knickers, fishnets and knee high boots. Her shoulders were pulled back weirdly, arms behind her back. Her dark hair hung loose, almost reaching her nippples. In my wildest fantasies she had never looked as hot as she did now. Even pinned and beaten by her jealous girlfriend (yep, I'd gotten there), I felt a deep kick of desire pulse out from my clit.

Bethan gave her a narrow eyed glare, unmoved by her appeal or hotness (further evidence for my goddess theory, she clearly had to be inhuman). "Oh I don't think so. You know your place, Jennifer, and it does not involve ordering me." Her voice was crisp, each word clipped short and I swear that glare of hers could freeze Mount St Helens. She clearly comfortable as queen bitch in this house and that did not sit well with me. Nothing about this sat well with me and it was time to fuck things up as only I could.

"No, bitch, her place is eating my cunt." I wheezed out. Her head whipped back to me, anger flashing in her eyes. I grinned at her.

"You... YOU..." She spluttered, drawing her arm back, fist clenched to slam into my guts. I clenched my stomach muscles, knowing there was little else I could do against the blow.

Pissing people off, it's a gift.

I'm not sure who was the most surprised when Jenny drove her shoulder into Bethan: me, Bethan or Jenny herself. I staggered at the sudden release and gasped in that wonderful oxygen stuff we like so much. Bethan grabbed at the cuffs I could now see bound Jenny's hands and spun her into the sofa. Then she rounded on me. At least I'd had a chance to breath.

Great, awake and functioning for less than a day and I'm in a full on bitch fight. I drew myself up - I was still nearly half a foot shorter than her - and raised my fists ready.

"Fuck's sake STOP!" We ignored Jenny and went at it. I hit her shoulder, she accepted it with a grunt, slid her left arm in a way I hadn't expected and got me in a lock, shoulders touching and fronts exposed, my left arm free, her right arm free. Shit, this girl knew how to fight far better than I did. She drove her fist at me, I blocked badly and my arm went numb to the elbow. Crap.

"Bethan, stop!"

She drew her arm back for another blow, I slapped at her tit, hoping my numb fingers could catch a piercing and hurt her enough to stop the next blow. Might as well hope for a very precise meteor to come to my aid while I was at it.

"SHE'S PREGNANT!"

We froze.

What the hell?

No one moved.

No. Seriously. What the fuck.

I looked at Bethan. Our little bit of sparring there had her skin glowing like an Olympian. She looked at me, down at my stomach then back at me, horror all over her face. She shook out her fist and sidestepped quickly away from me.

I couldn't process a thought.

Jenny stared at me. I just looked at her.

No.

Just... no.

No. Nope. No way. I almost laughed at the idea.

This was impossible. She couldn't possibly know that I had fucked Dan, let alone that we had fucked without protection. And anyway, I made him lick it out. I mean, sure it's not foolproof, but it was one time just...

Wait a minute, even if she did somehow know, that had happened a couple of hours ago. It takes days before a doctor can confirm, maybe even weeks? Bah, I can't remember. Another bit of sex ed that hadn't mattered. Stupid male thinking.

I took a deep breath and tried for a laugh. It was painfully false. "No, Jenny, I'm not but cheers for spoiling the fight. I had Bethan where I wanted her." Bullshit.

Jenny had worked her way around into an almost sitting position (not bad given she had no access to her hands) and was giving me a look so overflowing with sympathy I felt a need to vomit, swiftly and copiously. She shook her head slowly from side to side.

"Yes, you are. Erika-"

"Katya." She blinked in confusion. I clarified. "The name I picked. It's Katya. Katya Sandisson, not Erika."

"Ookay, Katya," she pronounced it almost right, dragging it into three syllables. She glanced at Bethan before continuing, her expression inscrutable. "It's the curse. 'Jita said that it... it perpetuates itself. The final act of the change is... it's fertilisation. You're pregnant. You, Katya, is carrying Erik's child."

I barked a laugh. It was absurd. There's no possible way she could be speaking the truth. Reproduction just doesn't work that way and, okay I'd changed genders, but I was supposed to buy this? "No fucking way. You're lying to... to me... you must be..."

As I spoke, I remembered. I had been lying on Sara's sofa, unknowingly enjoying my last minutes as a man. Mum had been showing me a picture of a man she claimed was my mum. Jenny had interrupted us and, with a broad, shit-eating grin, delighted in telling me I was about to lose my dick. And then...

It was my turn to blink dumbly.

Then she had said I didn't know 'the best bit.' Sara had hushed her. Not denied her claim, she had hushed her.

The bottom fell out of my world. I felt the fingertips of my right hand touch just below my naval. This wasn't... this couldn't... it just...

"Wait" Bethan's tone was incredulous. She snapped her fingers to get my attention. "You mean this curse is real? You seriously used to be Erik?"

I looked at her, stood in her lace teddy and silk kimono, staring at me in some dreadful awe.

I looked at Jenny, tits out, bound and corseted, staring at me with eyes full of concern.

It was too much. Everything. The room was small. So small. It pressed in on me, the air crowding closer and closer. Lips moved. Questions flew past me but I couldn't hear them over the roaring of the blood in my ears. I stopped thinking. I ran.

The front door was still ajar from my rather abrupt entrance. I I threw myself through it and heard it crash behind me. I'm told that Jenny was on her feet in a moment and tried to follow, that Bethan had to hold her back from running, topless and handcuffed, down the street after me. Probably saved her a world of awkward questions by the police and neighbours.

As for me? I ran. Arms and legs pumping, I was soon out of their street, twisting onto the next and narrowly avoiding a couple. They swore at my back as I ran on, pushing my new body as hard as I could.

I was near blind as I ran, the sting of the wind coupling with the falling rain filled my eyes water.

Shut up. That's the sole reason my eyes were watering. How I managed to dodge traffic and people I don't know, but I ran until my legs shook and my lungs burned. I ran until I couldn't run any more. Then I fell into a pub.

I must have looked a state. The rain had me bedraggled, the wind in my eyes no doubt had turned me into the splodge-faced princess and I might, just might, have looked upset. And, apparently, young. They ID'd me before I even asked for a drink. I glared defiantly at the barman, glared at the few patrons that were looking my eye and stomped out into the street again.

I loitered in the doorway, partly to avoid the rain and partly to get my bearings. I was on the outskirts of York city centre and I saw at two other pubs down the street on the way into town, where there was plenty more. Someone was bound to serve me, I was twenty-fucking-one after all, and I really, really wanted a drink.

Those two pubs refused me, as did the three in the next street. Fuck it was annoying. Objectively I got it, I was skinny before getting soaked. I'd looked my age as Erik and while I hadn't gotten noticeably younger, my body was new and lacking things like wrinkles. A small, bitter part of me took amusement at that. A new woman, wishing for wrinkles. I stuffed my hands in my pockets, hunched against the rain and moved on. Maybe my method was wrong. I'd walk up to each barman and demand to know if they'd serve me. Being polite might have helped. Fuck that, I really wasn't in the mood to try.

I got served somewhere that really wasn't my first choice. 'The Orange Halibut' was known as a gay bar long before I'd first gotten into any pub and was far from my first choice. Still, it was a pub and had alcohol, that made it a viable choice. I asked in my usual charming manner and the ginger barmaid shrugged before saying "sure."

"Three shots of smirnoff then." She arched a brow at me and smiled.

"A woman after my own heart. I'm going to take a stab in the dark here, someone break your heart?"

"...what?"

She chuckled as she pulled out the shot glasses and turned to fill them from the rack of bottles on the wall. "Well, the three-drink order for a single person is a bit of a cliché I'm afraid." She placed the first shot in front of me. I knocked it back immediately, exhaling against the burn. "Then there's the lack of coat or umbrella, wherever you left you went in a hurry." Second shot on the bar. Second shot gone in one. She gave me a smile of solidarity as she went for the third. "Anyone drinking that hard and fast I know the story for, my only questions are about details of the heartache and if you have the cash to cover your drinks."

I pulled a twenty from my pocket, tugging it from the other notes without revealing them to the room, and put it on the counter. "There's one answer for you. What's your name?"

She looked amused as she began to sort out my last drink. I toyed with the shot she had just placed, watching the liquid swirl. "You know, that's a question that very rarely comes up. At least, not this early in the night. Susan."

"Katya."

"Well, it is absolutely my pleasure to meet you." She flashed me a grin as she slipped away the note. Her fingers brushed mine unnecessarily. It took a moment to register, but she was flirting with me. Or was she? Bar staff like their tips and all, it could well just be her working style. Still, I straightened and gave her an appraising look.

How to put this without sounding like an arse... You know what, I am an arse, so fuck it. She was a real plain Jane. Some redheads gets the creamy skin and deep, vibrant curls. Her skin however was freckled heavily, her hair pale enough to blur with her skin. It left her looking like she had no real eyebrows, giving her a permanent slightly surprised look.