The Last Shapeshifter Ch. 02

Sabrina felt Max's gentle hand slide from her face and land on her shoulder, joined by his other hand. He was kneading her skin softly. She instinctively knew he wanted to place his hands elsewhere but did not have the courage to do so. While their tongues continued to wrestle, she took one of his hands and placed it over her breast. His breath grew hotter and his kissing more intense, and then his hand became a caged wild animal that had just been set free. His hand squeezed her right breast, then left, darting back and forth. There was a bra between his hand and her tits, but he didn't seem to mind. He fondled and groped and rinsed and repeated. It was clear he was in boob heaven.

An idea popped into Sabrina's mind. She should suck him off. She should stop kissing him, drop to her knees, pull down his boxers, and wrap her lips around his manhood. She was suddenly aware of his hardness, pressed firmly up against her abdomen. She felt impossibly aroused herself, and the idea of giving him what she thought he wanted pushed her over the edge. As her mouth left his, she saw his face look disappointed for a second, and then his eyes went wide and spark with awe and wonder as he saw her descend to his waist. She was on her knees now, and had an up close and personal view of the tent that Max was pitching. She looked at him right in the eye and licked her lips as she took the sides of his boxers and pulled straight down. The way his dick sprang out at her, it almost poked her in the eye. She reached out a tentative hand towards it. Why was she tentative about it? She had seen a dick before, several times in fact, but...never from this angle...

Before she could pick that nugget of truth apart, the compulsion to suck Max off returned, even stronger this time. Sabrina's tongue flicked out and licked the tip of Max's dick. Then she lubed up his first two inches with her tongue. She purposefully made eye contact with Max again, as if she sensed he wanted her to, and then took him fully into her mouth. With her lips, she created a tight seal, and began pumping with her mouth around his shaft. She had done this for only a minute when she heard Max groan loudly and suddenly a burst of hot liquid filled her mouth.

The second this happened Sabrina released Max's dick and shoved back with a face of horror. Trevor's awareness slammed back into him like a freight train. He was not a she. Sure, that was a little contradictory right then, but, he wasn't, not really. It didn't matter though, because he hadn't been in control for the last several minutes. Even though he couldn't help himself, he still remembered everything. And the part of him that had felt like Sabrina had known what Max had wanted, like she could read his mind, and had felt strongly compelled to make lustful thoughts happen. And now here he was, with a mouth full of his friend's jizz, while wearing the body of their good friend. This had not at all been part of the plan.

Max watched as Sabrina gagged, and spit out Max's spunk onto the floor. Whatever had come over Sabrina before seemed to have evaporated. She was backing away from him, and looking for the exit. "Sabrina, I'm sorry, no one's ever...do you want to talk about..."

Sabrina was on her feet and moving towards the door. "Nope. In fact, we never talk about this. It was a mistake. I'm leaving. Don't follow me."

She was out the door before Max could say another word. That had been the best and most intense experience of his life, and he knew it might have cost him at least one friend. If he talked about this with Trevor, their friendship could be over as well. Max stumbled back to the couch, and fell there, happy, and saddened, all at the same time.

Trevor got to his car. He was in shock as he jerked it open and drove back to his house. He couldn't believe what he had just done and he couldn't stop spitting. He had not planned to take anything that far, but then Max had touched him, and in a blink, his mindset had changed. He had been fully aware of everything that had transpired, but had felt powerless to stop it. It's not like he had even wanted to. Even as he played it back, it had felt so right to kiss his friend, to let Max grope Sabrina's breasts and to take him into her mouth and... A block away from his house, Trevor pulled over to the curb so that Sabrina could throw up. It no longer felt right in any way. His mind was racing over the possible implications this could have on his friendships as he barged into his house, intent on hiding in his room for a time.

Two steps in though, he saw his father sitting at the kitchen table. His eyes were locked on to a small glass of bourbon, with the bottle in easy reach. His father's eyes looked up and fixed on his with a sorrowful determination. The last time his father had looked that serious was when he had told him that his mom was most likely going to die in a few hours.

Trevor ground to a halt, and as he did so, a wisp of long hair tickled his cheek, and he realized in horror that in his haste to get away from Max, he had completely forgotten to change back into his own self. Currently, it must look to his father like a shell shocked Sabrina had just barged into his house and was staring at him awkwardly. He was about to say something, anything, when his father interrupted whatever lie had been about to come out of his mouth.

"Trevor, it's okay. I know it's you. We have to talk."

Steve looked at the form of Sabrina, his son's high school friend, and knew that it wasn't really her as what he had said seemed to hit her like a brick. Steve sighed heavily. He had been dreading this day, had been denying that it would ever happen, that his deceased wife had been wrong. But now it was here, and it was time to pass along the message he had been given.

"Have a seat, son." He said it invitingly enough, but like one who is about to give horrible news. He had been told to spin it in the most positive way possible, but to also make him understand the gravity of the situation. He didn't know how to do that. It was never supposed to be him that had this responsibility. In that moment he hated himself for daring to think ill of his dead wife. His son still had not moved. All these things caused him to bark louder and with more force than he meant to, "I said sit down, Trevor!"

Sabrina's body sat down quickly, and she began wringing her hands, something the real Sabrina would actually do when nervous. "Mr. Burrtrick, there must be some mistake. It's me, Sab-"

"You know the amount of times your mother used that line? I mean really. If I had a nickel for every time..." His voice trailed off and he was silent for a few seconds before resuming. "I was hoping it wouldn't be you. Don't misunderstand me, I didn't want it for any of you, but...well, you're the baby of the family and...dammit I hate this."

"Mr. Burrtrick," Sabrina started, "I don't know what this is all about but..."

"Don't give me that Mr. Burrtrick shit, Trevor. I know it's you. The way you came stomping in here like you owned the place. I was pretty sure it was you when I caught you upstairs in that other form, but, well, now I'm certain. Anyway, it's time we had the talk, and it would be great for me if I could have it with you in my son's form instead of his boyhood crush."

"She's not my..." The words had tumbled forth so fast that Trevor couldn't have stopped them even if he had tried. It was as much of an admission as anything, and he watched his dad's eyebrow raise as if to say, "got you."

"Look, if you want privacy to change, I can give you that. I guess not everyone can do clothes at first. But you are not to leave this house until..." Steve stopped as Sabrina's shaped rippled and her form seemed to give off a soft glow of light. A moment later, he saw his son Trevor sitting before him with the same clothes he had left in that morning. It didn't seem to impress him at all as he grunted, "Thank you. Was that so hard?"

"Dad...how?"

"Yeah, I'm sure you have a lot of questions. I'll answer all of them, but first I have to know, have you done anything stupid yet? Had any, uh, uncontrollable urges."

Trevor's silence spoke volumes. Steve nodded and he sighed at the weight he was about to put on his son. "That's going to get worse before it gets better, but there are some tips that will...

"Dad, maybe start with how you know what is happening to me. And how long have you known it would happen?"

"What's happening to you is that you're a shapeshifter. And I've known about it since you were born but, since I had never seen any evidence, I hoped it had just, I don't know, skipped you. Tell me, how long have you been able to..."

"Since just today. You figured it out pretty quickly."

Steve stood up and began pacing the small kitchen. "That's because I've been watching closely. Your mother said it happens between 18 and 25. I talk with your brother and sister once a day, to check in of course, but also to see if it was them, just in case your mother was wrong. But I've kept the closest eye on you, because...because of your mother."

"Mom knew this was going to happen?"

Steve stopped pacing and pulled out a small glass from the cupboard. Trevor's dad only drank on rare occasions, and almost never before 8pm, but now he was reaching for a bottle in the liquor cabinet, only one of two that seemed to never run out because of how little it was consumed. With the amount Steve poured into the glass just then, Trevor thought it might run out today. "Your mother was a shapeshifter, Trevor. She could instantly copy someone's form just by seeing them, and imitate their voice just by hearing the person say a word. But if she touched a person, she also gained a copy of their memories, mannerisms and habits for a period of time. Sort of like how you were wringing your hands earlier the way Sabrina would. You must have touched her at some point today, and when you became her, it was like a part of her was controlling you."

"Controlling me?" Trevor did not like the sound of that. "If I touch someone I'll act like them without being able to help it."

Steve looked hard at his son, then downed the glass. "I'm afraid it's a little more complicated than that, Trevor. You will find you are now a...what was the word your mother used? Conduit. You're a conduit for people's...desires."

Trevor gave dry swallow. "I don't...what does that mean?"

"Your mom said it was all a part of some curse that has been passed down for thousands of years. The jist is this. For a time, at the start of all this, you'll be hypersensitive to, well, lustful thoughts of people around you. You yourself will have a higher libido, even more than a typical teenager. The real danger happens if you allow another person that is in a state of arousal to touch you. You will transform into their desire and you will become the fantasy version of the their imagination. You'll be like a sexually heightened version of the person they want, and do things the actual person would never do. And you will stop at nothing to...uh, you know, I don't know how your mother was going to tell you all this. I mean, I'd give anything for this just to be the birds and the bees speech all over again."

Trevor's mind was a blur and he felt a million questions clamoring for answers all at once. He chose one that seemed to be the most relevant and flung it at his dad. "If a horny guy touches me, I'll turn into their fantasy girl and screw them?"

"Guy, girl, it doesn't matter. You'll do whatever it takes to, uh, seal the deal. Become whoever they want."

"But...Mom didn't go around, uh, doing that?"

Steve poured himself another hefty serving. "Apparently the older you get, the easier it is to control. Your mother said in her last fifty years she had become numb to what everyone wanted, except for me. She said she used to be able to walk into a crowded room and instantly know who and how everyone wanted to fuck. But that had faded, unless someone touched her. Even then though, she could control it. Of course, she had quite a few years of experience to master it."

Trevor blinked. "How many years?"

Steve sat down across from his son again. "Your mother was...older than she looked."

"How old was she?"

"She never gave me an exact age, but told me once she was over 400. She laughed and said it was easier to count by the centuries than the years."

Trevor's expression was dumbfounded. "There's no way. That can't be true."

"She told me stories that happened in history books like she had been there, because she had actually lived through them. She was always going on about how so much that was recorded was incorrect or blown out of proportion and that you had to be there to truly know what happened."

"But, so, what? She was immortal?" Even as Trevor asked the question he felt stupid. His mother was dead. Dead was the furthest thing from immortal.

"She said the curse passes through the bloodline. Each time she got pregnant, there was a chance it was passing from her into one of you. After your two older siblings were born, she could still shapeshift. But not after you. After you were born, she couldn't ever again. She became like a normal person, which is why she was able to get sick after all those years. She wanted to be the one to tell you all this. Said she had centuries of experience to prepare you for, and it's not fair to either of us that you hear about it from me. I want you to know I thought about telling you several times since she passed, but, I know you wouldn't have believed me and I held out hope. I hoped, and I know that this is a terrible thing to say but, I hoped the curse had died with your mother."

Trevor didn't understand that last part. "Why? Why is it so terrible? If Mom could master it, so can I, and I can live a long..."

"Son," Steve interjected, and he placed a heavy hand on his son's shoulder, "your mother said it took a hundred years for her to be able to even slightly resist the touch of a lust filled person, and another hundred till she could outright walk away from them."

"One hundred..." Steve couldn't finish the sentence. A hundred years, a century of being someone's, or many someones', sex toy. "What experience was mom going to..."

"We'll get to that in a minute. Your mother actually left you a journal of sorts. When she got sick, she started it and would write in it almost every night until she physically couldn't anymore. She told me to get it out of the house until you needed to read it. It's in a safety deposit box. I'll get it and you can commit it to memory, and then it has to be destroyed. That's the first thing she wanted you to understand. No one can know about this, not until you have mastered it, and even then, you should still be very, very careful, so don't let this secret out to anyone. But the second thing she said was just as important, and that's to stay away from the others."

"Others?"

"Yeah. I don't know a lot about them. She said it's all in her journal, but she wouldn't let me read it. Said the less I knew the better in case someone, get this, probed my memories. At that point she was on some pretty heavy medications though, so I took everything with a grain of salt. But apparently, in the history of this curse, there's another type of person out there-"

"Like me?"

Steve shook his head solemnly. "No, not like you. These others can, well, the only thing your mother said was they use people, break them, then discard them like trash. And somehow you're connected to these people by something that happened forever ago, and you'd never want to cross paths with them again if you can at all help it."

"How many of these others are there?"

"Well, that's something your mother said that spooked her, and me. I guess for thousands of years, there was only ever one of them, and it was tied to this object that started it all. That's what your mother's mother had told her, that, and to stay away."

Trevor raised a hand indicating he had a question. "How was she supposed to know who to stay away from?"

"I'm getting to that. Apparently, your kind, shapeshifters that is, have been able to sense this thing, whatever the object is I mean, they've been able to sense its presence. More importantly, they've been able to sense the person or being, whatever or whoever, that's tied to it, and thereby, avoid it. But then your mother said something strange happened."

"What?"

"A couple of hundred years ago, what she felt, split. It went from two to three. Over the years and decades, three became four, then six, then ten, twelve, thirty, fifty, and well, you get the picture. This terrified her, and she told me that should one ever get too close, we'd have to move. It's only happened twice since we got married, but..." Steve's expression grew more worried than Trevor had seen it.

"Don't keep me in suspense Dad, but what?"

"But the moment this curse was passed on to you, she was no longer able to sense them. There could be way more of them now, and they could be anywhere."

"Okay, that's not terrifying or anything. How do I, uh, sense them? Do I reach out with my mind or..."

"I have know idea. It'll be in your mom's journal though. Prepare yourself for tomorrow. You'll have a lot of reading to do, among other things."

"Well, what happens if I ever meet one of them?"

Steve gave a worried shrug. "I don't know, because your mother never did. She believed it would be horrible though. She said this warning has been passed on down through the line for centuries and she always abided by it. Her mother instilled it in her, and left it for me to do for you."

"So, this could all be a myth or some fabrication? I mean, if it's just been passed down word of mouth..."

"But if it's true, son, I mean, look, you're already going to have a tough life. You don't need to have a run in with whatever this other type of person is that would kill you or enslave you."

"Enslave me?" Trevor was shocked at his dad's choice of words. "How would they enslave me?"

"Well I don't know. Like I said, you'll do whatever a person wants. And not just the things they say, but the things their subconscious wants. Sometimes I wouldn't even ask and your mother would-"

"Dad, no, you can stop right there," Trevor said, quickly cutting his dad off. He distinctly remembered the need to get on his knees for his friend earlier. "What I don't get is, if this is so terrible, why have any kids? Why pass this on?"

Steve looked at his now empty glass and considered the bottle again. After several moments of silence, he answered. "She said she had to."

"What? No, she had a choice, and she didn't just stop at one, but she had three kids."

"No, Trevor. She's had hundreds, maybe thousands."

For whatever reason, this little fact seemed to be the sticking point that Trevor could not get past. "That's...that's impossible."

"She wants to get pregnant, or she wants to make someone pregnant. I guess the odds of the curse passing on are like one in a gazillion though, which is why shapeshifters live so long."

"What do you..." was as far as Trevor could get with the question.

Steve exhaled a long breath. This was just getting harder and harder. "Your mother could become anyone's desire, fulfill any fantasy, for a guy, or a girl. And every time, she wanted to get pregnant if she were doing it as a woman, or wanted to get the girl pregnant if she were doing it as a guy. She said it was an overwhelming compulsion that never went away, until after we had you."

"But...why didn't you just, you know, wrap it, or get snipped?"

Steve let out a moroseful chuckle. "Well, to answer the first, and remember, you asked, your Mom was like a junkie needing a fix when it came to...that. She either had to give or receive, and only the real thing would do. Condoms worked for a day or two, but eventually she'd convince me to leave it off and we'd..."