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Butterflies

By: Bill Smith



"Hiking in the springtime has to be God's gift to us after enduring winter," I was thinking to myself as I walked besides the little shallow country creek. Around me there was the renewal of life everywhere from the fresh green grass, budding leaves on the trees to the scampering of squirrels trying to locate the various nuts they buried last winter. 

Growing tired from my hiking I decided to sit for awhile to enjoy the sights and sounds that were around me. I had found a wonderful spot that allowed me comfort yet partially concealed my location so that I could continue to enjoy all the things nature could provide without disturbing the activities. I was able to observe birds building nests, butterflies going where ever butterflies go, and bees searching for all those things that only they could turn into honey. I could hear the chatter from the birds as they gave each other instructions on how to construct their nest, and the buzz of the bees in their ever widening circles to locate the sweetness of the land, and something Unidentifiable. The sound was almost like the sound of distant musical notes but not quite.

As I listened and watched I was able to locate the direction of the strange sounds but could not see anything. Afraid of getting up to look for fear of startling whatever was making this strange sounds I stayed as motionless as was possible. The sounds were getting closer. And the closer the sounds got the more it sounded familiar. 

Yes I know that sound, it is the sound that young girls make when they talk and giggle almost at the same time. Well so much for enjoying nature with such noisy spectators in the mist of it. I almost got up but stopped myself as I wondered why young girls would be wondering in the woods. Having nothing to lose I sat, waited and listened. The girls were getting closer and I could discern two distinct voices. As I listened I heard the names of Ann and Justine, could they be the names of the girls approaching? I sat, waited and listened.

The girls were getting close. So close that I was afraid they would stumble over me! Yet I waited. They were just on the other side of the creek, almost directly in front of me, yet they didn't see me. They stopped under a huge Oak tree, both facing each other leaning on the tree. They were talking about boys. Both were in their late-teens one girl had bright red hair, the other brown, both were about 5' 4", and both appeared to weigh about 110 pounds each. They were both wearing summer dresses with spaghetti straps and sandals. As I listened I found out that the red headed girl was named Justine, and Ann was the name of the other girl.

"Ann, I get so tired of Tom pawing at me when we are alone. Even when we do have sex I think he is an oaf only out to satisfy his urges," stated Justine.

"I know how you feel," replied Ann, "as Jim is the same way. He just wants to get his dick in my pussy and come. Just when it is starting to feel good he is finished. The idiot only thinks of himself. You know if I was a man, I would be so different."

"How?" asked Justine.

"Well first of all I would not be in a big hurry," said Ann, "I would want to do a lot of kissing and feeling, and holding and stroking. Being gentle. Letting each of us heat up at the same time. Enjoying the feeling of each other's excitement. Just be kind of in tune to each other, knowing almost by magic what to do next."

"I don't think there is magic in sex," Justine said, "It is just in and out, and then just messy."

"Ok Justine, suppose that Tom is facing you now and no one else is around. Tom is gazing into your eyes and he reaches out and strokes your face with his hand. Don't you think that would feel nice?" ask Ann.

"I don't know, and I don't think the idiot would ever try," replied Justine, "He is always going for my breasts."

"Justine, just pretend I'm Tom," said Ann. Reaching out with her left arm she strokes Justine's face with her hand. "Just close your eyes now and pretend it is Tom."

After a few moments Justine says, "That feels good," as she leans her face into Ann's hand.

Ann reaches out with her other hand and caresses Justine face with both hands. Then with Justine resting her head in Ann's left hand, Ann begins to stroke Justine's face with her right hand. 

"Hmmm, that feels so good. Don't stop," Justine requests.

After a few moments Justine asks Ann, "What would Tom do nest?"

Leaning forward Ann gently kisses Justine's lips, then the end of her nose, then both eyes before coming back to her lips. Using her tongue Ann gently probes between Justine's lips to find Justine's tongue. As both tongues gently dance with each other, Ann's fingers on both hands gently massage Justine's face. Justine embraces Ann with her arms and pulls her body next to hers.

As they continue to kiss, Ann's hands begin to move downward massaging Justine's neck, and then shoulders. Putting her thumbs under Justine's spaghetti straps Ann pulls them outward. Almost without knowing it, Justine releases Ann from her embrace and lowers her arms so Ann can pull her summer dress downwards. Once the straps are free of her arms Justine reaches up and pulls Ann's dress downward. Never once did there lips part.

Free from the upper parts of their dresses, the nipples of each girl begin to harden from exposer to the air. Ann brings her arms upwards and clasping Justine's back she pulls her forward until both pair of breasts are crushed together, both girls moan into each other mouth with the contact.

Slowly Ann's hands begin to move downward, following the contours of Justine's back. Almost by magic Justine's hands do the same down Ann's back. As both pairs of hands reach the summer dresses they press downward and both dresses fall to the ground. Neither girl has worn underclothes. Ann breaks her kiss with Justine's lips. Then following the contours of Justine's left cheekbone Ann places dozens of kisses there as she moves downward to her neck, where she also places dozens of kisses. 

With her lips no longer constrained by Ann's lips, Justine begins to moan softly.

Leaving a wet trail of kisses Ann moves ever downward from Justine's shoulder until her lips reach the nipple of Justine's left breast. Using her tongue Ann tickles the nipple making it grow ever harder. As her lips and tongue play an intimate fugue on Justine's nipple, Ann's hands are busy as well massaging Justine's buttocks.

Ann removes her lips from Justine's left nipple, and making small circles with her tongue she moves to the right nipple. Then without further ado the nipple disappears into her mouth where once again her tongue plays an intimate ode to joy. Keeping her left hand on Justine's right buttock, Ann's right hand softly moves forward to Justine's hip and then slowly moves between the junction of her legs. Justine automatically parts her legs allowing Ann's hand the freedom to explore. And explore it does.

Ann using her forefinger traces the contours of Justine's vagina. Then by following the wetness Ann is able to find the center of Justine's pussy and then it is only a moment until the entrance is found. Working slowly Ann is able to insert her finger into Justine's wet cunt. Moving her finger slowly back and forth while rotating her thumb on Justine's clitoris Justine's hips start to move backwards and forwards on their own accord. 

Using the fingers of her left hand Ann parts Justine's ass cheeks. Moving slowly she finds the puckered opening of Justine's ass. Slowly she inserts her finger into the opening, and then withdraws. Then she inserts it again. Over and over she repeats the maneuver until the finger is moving in and out as easily as the one in Justine's pussy.

Releasing Justine's right nipple, Ann sinks to her knees while allowing her tongue to make circular spirals on Justine's torso until it reaches her pubic hair. With a shake of her head Ann places her head between the junction of Justine's thighs and snakes her tongue forward until she makes contact with Justine's clitoris. While Ann's tongue takes over the assault on Justine's clitoris her right hand is free to insert another finger into Justine's vagina.

Justine's hips are bucking against Ann's onslaught, and her breath is coming in gasps until she can't take it anymore and she screams out her pleasure! Her scream is like a shot in the forest as animals take flight. She falls to her knees pulling Ann's fingers and tongue away from her. She licks her wetness from Ann's face, and then kisses her. 

Pushing Ann backward until Ann is on her back, Justine buries her face between the junction of Ann's thighs, and her tongue searches for her clitoris. As her tongue makes contact with Ann's clitoris, Justine pushes one finger then two into Ann's wet pussy, then three, then four! Ann is going crazy by Justine's assault and then she comes and her screams are like the crack of thunder! And Ann can feel the lightening course through her body as Justine continues to lick. Unable to take any more Ann grabs Justine's head and removes it from her pussy and pulls it upwards until lips are once again locked on to each other. The kiss continues as both hearts slowly unwind. Then to two bodies wrap around each other till there is just one, and both fall asleep. 

There is silence. There is not a sound. The birds and the bees are silent. I can't even hear the water in the stream as it heads down stream to the river! I look down and realize that I have removed Lucifer from my hiking shorts and my right hand is moving up and down it length. I stop my hand, remove it from Lucifer and look at it. Wow, I just can't believe what I have just seen, and what I was just doing. I close my eyes... 

There are butterflies fluttering up and down the length of Lucifer! God the feel of their wings against Lucifer is incredible. I moan... and then wonder where in the hell am I? I look down and see a brown head of hair and a red head of hair moving up and down over Lucifer. "What the hell," I mumble out loud.

The brown head of hair looks up and smiles at me. I recognize the face of Ann, it was not a dream after all. I look down and Justine is licking up and down the length of Lucifer while her eyes are looking at me.

"Your snoring woke us up," Ann informs me, "When we investigated we found you, and the treat you had between your legs. It was sort of a beacon that lead us onwards, we kinda figured you wouldn't mind." With that said Justine swallows a mouthful Lucifer and my heart goes crazy.

I inform Ann, "Oh no, I don't mind at all!"

Smiling Ann leans over and kisses me, and I try and swallow her tongue. In my wildest dreams I have never encountered anything as wonderful as this. A young lady sucking Lucifer and another one with her tongue down my throat, if this is heaven give me more!

Justine says to Ann, "I think I have him ready for you."

Ann removes her tongue from my mouth and looks at Justine.

Justine is holding a very wet and happy Lucifer and tells Ann, "Just sit on it."

Ann straddles my mid-section and with the help of Justine lowers herself on to Lucifer. We both moan. Justine smiles.

Justine kisses first Ann, then me. WE kiss for a while as Ann and I continue to play bury the bone. I pull Justine upwards and while I suck on her right breast, Ann sucks on her left one. Then I tell Justine to stand and straddle me facing Ann. Ann gets the idea and starts to suck on Justine's clitoris once she is in place.

I look at a most beautiful ass, then I lean forward and bite it. I gently bite every square inch of Justine's butt. Then I pull her ass cheeks apart and start licking from the top of her ass to the bottom where I met Ann working on her clitoris. Then I target in on her asshole, where my tongue starts drilling like a Texas oil rig looking for black gold. 

I don't know who started coming and screaming first, but I know I damn near came to dying and I was ready and willing to go! It seem to last forever, that wonderful feeling but as all good things must come to an end - it did. Almost...

After resting in a tangled heap for what seems like an eternity, Justine raises her head and looked at Ann and said, "You're left with the mess."

I looked at Justine, then at Ann, smiled and pulled Ann's vagina up to my mouth and started cleaning the best I knew how. Apparently it was the right move as Ann started to moan. Justine not to be outdone started licking on Lucifer. As Justine was licking and sucking on Lucifer she had her hand between her legs and was strumming a tune to beat the band on her clitoris. And in no time we were all moaning again. 

Finally Justine looked at both of us and licked her lips, and said, "All clean."

Butterflies



He sat in front of her in fifth grade, heckled the teacher and got into trouble a lot, but that just made him more attractive in her ten year old eyes. He sometimes walked her home and showed her his action figures. She had very little interest in action figures, but she paid attention because of her interest in him.

In middle school they didn't have a class together so she didn't see him much, but he continued to be funny and a trouble maker. He made her laugh and gave her butterflies in her stomach, whenever they ran into each other in the halls. The butterflies were something new and it made her shy around him. 

He moved away and for years she didn't see him, nevertheless she couldn't forget him. There was one time in college when they saw each other in the halls again, but it was a brief encounter. She wished for more, but the moment was swift and fleeting as the hallway filled with students rushing to their next class. She remembered almost yelling above the racket to finish their conversation and then he was gone again. Almost twenty years later she heard from a mutual friend that he was married with a family. She was almost disappointed to discover the fact, even though she was in a very happy relationship of her own. When they finally did see each other again, it was at a party thrown by a mutual friend back in their home town. They were both on their best behavior, but then again when had they not been. Despite her feelings for him over the years, nothing had ever really happened between them. As she watched him at the party, she had to remind herself that he belonged to someone else and in fact had never been hers.

He was still amazingly funny and warm and she loved the Oklahoma twang in his voice. He got out his guitar, played and sang for the party guests. She had had a few beers by that point, and well she started to feel those butterflies once again. She also felt them between her thighs, this time.

As the night wore on, many of the party guests had either gone home or made their way inside. With everyone in the house, she remembered her sweater which she had left on a piece of lawn furniture in the back yard. She ran outside to retrieve it. On her walk back up to the house she saw him standing in a dark corner by himself on the back patio. 

She wasn't sure if he had been there when she came out or if he had followed her, but suddenly they were alone, just what she had been hoping for all night. She made her way over to him in the almost pitch darkness of their small hometown night and said hi. The butterflies were going wild in her tummy and elsewhere. As nervous as she felt, she wasn't about to go back inside, not just yet. He had always made her feel unsure of herself, but she was grown up now and would not let that stop her. 

He didn't say anything when she walked up to him, but he set his beer down and took her into his arms, pulling her hard against him. He put his hand around her neck and kissed her roughly. This surprised her and made her uneasy, especially considering all their friends were just inside, but she didn't resist. She liked how strong his arms felt around her. His hands began to explore her body as he pulled her around the corner to the dark side of the house. She giggled a little nervously. 

He made quick work of the buttons on her blouse. Reaching into her bra and pulling out each breast, he roughly kneaded them in his big hands and bit and sucked at each nipple, making her yelp with surprise. She could feel him growing hard against her thigh. She reached down to stroke him through his jeans. She had always loved the feel of a man's cock growing hard inside his pants, and she loved the thrill of anticipation that came with knowing that soon it would be freed and pushed inside of her. 

She let out a rapid gasp as his hand made its way from fondling her ass, to the front of her thigh, where it slid up under her skirt and cupped the little triangle of cloth between her legs. She was burning hot there and dampness had already begun to seep through the fabric under his finger tips as he caressed her. He quickly pulled the material aside and let his fingers slip into the soft folds of her shaved cunt. He made several small circles with his fingertip against her hard little clit, she let out a moan. He pushed a finger and then another into her slick hole, letting them sink deep. He finger fucked her violently for a moment and then told her to get on her knees. It was dirty and damp down there, but she did as he told her. He unbuttoned his jeans, releasing his cock. It bounced out towards her. He held her face in one hand while he used his other to he gently slapped her cheeks with his hot prick. She closed her eyes, as he rubbed himself against her forehead, eyelids, chin and lips. He pressed his cock against her mouth and told her to open up. He pushed the head of it into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around it and sucked at it, thinking how perfectly it fit. Then he began to press more of it past her lips, filling her mouth to capacity and pushing all the way to the back of her throat. 

She tried to relax as he began to fuck her throat, knowing that if she didn't she might choke. But his cock felt enormous as it grew more rigid in her mouth, so much so that she couldn't help but begin to gag. Goose bumps spread out across her flesh, her mouth began to water and tears welled up in her eyes, but he didn't let up, instead he put both hands on the back of her head and picked up the pace. Just as she thought she might suffocate or pass out, he pulled out and began to lift her to her feet. Her legs were wobbly, due to lack of oxygen and having spent so long on her knees, but she didn't have to support her own weight for long. 

He turned her around and gave her a soft push. She stumbled and fell face first against the wall of the house, exactly where he wanted her. He quickly flipped her skirt up and ripped her panties down. She was dripping wet between the legs. Clearly, having his cock crammed so deep down her throat had turned her on. It crossed his mind what a dirty little slut she was to get so turned on by being on her knees and having her face fucked. He reached between her body and the wall to rub her clit roughly. Then in one swift motion, he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her firmly against him and he jammed his cock into her soaked slit. 

She was tight around his thick cock, but so wet that he easily slid in deep. He began thrusting up hard into her. She let out a cry, which he stifled by putting his hand over her mouth. He kept his hand there as he hissed cruel things into her ear, ordering her to shut the fuck up, telling her just how much she liked it and calling her filthy names like bitch, slut and whore. This just made her moans grow louder under the palm of his hand, despite her intention of staying quite to avoid detection by their friends inside. 

As he continued to pound her ruthlessly into the wall, he felt her tighten around his cock. She tried to cry out and then she was suddenly even wetter than she had been before. Her cum was dripping down her thighs and off his balls. Her pussy opened up more to him. He found he could now fuck her even more deeply and he did, driving forcefully into her as if trying to fuck through her and into the wall. 

At this point, his cock was so soaked with her pussy juices that he couldn't help but think about how easily it might slide right up her ass. Pressing his hand more firmly across her lips, he slipped out of her pussy. His prick was dripping with her. As he began to toy with her little pink pucker by pressing the head of his slick cock against its entrance, she jumped and started to squirm. He pinned her firmly against the wall with his pelvis. From under his finger tips her lips moved and he thought he heard muffled pleas of protest, but that didn't stop him. Instead, he positioned himself and pushed gently but firmly against her defense. He liked how wide her eyes got as the head of his cock pushed past her tightest place. 

Once he had made it that far she gave up the fight, taking deep breaths and trying to relax. She understood that there was no going back. He reached around and began stroking her clit as he increased his depth and the speed of his thrusts up into her. She started to feel as if she were floating, her toes barely touching the ground, pinned between him and the wall, and skewered on his painful cock. But the touch of his fingers tips distracted her from her pain, until the pain evolved into something strangely delicious. 

He was driving harder and deeper into her ass, and it was actually beginning to feel really good to her. So good that her muffled high pitched whimpers transformed into deep guttural moans, which came from some strange place inside of her, a place she hardly knew. As the sensation began to wash over her, she was only slightly embarrassed by the fact that having his cock jammed up her ass was about to make her cum. Wisely he had already tightened his grip over her mouth, because she let out a huge cry, which shook her body all the way to her toes. 

He could feel her constrict around him and then relax. Her whole body seemed to collapse as she came down from her orgasm. With her so relaxed, his cock slid more easily in and out of her, which he took advantage of by really slamming into her, until he also felt something coming over him.

His whole body tightened, and so did his grip on her mouth and waist. He pushed deep into her, so deep that she discovered a new way he could hurt her, but there was no stopping him as he pumped hard way up inside of her and then she felt his hot cum burning as is poured into her. The unexpected sensation of his cum splashing and stinging her insides, made her feel surprisingly good. It began mounting inside of her, as he pumped out the rest of his seed into her. Another orgasm rocked through her body. Her ass tightened around his cock once again and milked out the last bit of his cum. As he let his softening cock slip out of her, he talked about her greedy little hole and called her a naughty ass whore, but this time he said it with more tenderness in his voice. Then he kissed her sweetly.

Suddenly they heard their friend and hostess calling for them from the back porch, only a few feet away.



Butterflies



There are butterflies in my stomach as I light candles and incense to perfume the room. I look at the picture of your smiling face on my shelf, and feel my heart open. 

My phone rings and I know it means you're on your way. I pull the headband out of my hair and shake it down – I know you like it that way. I smooth down the purple satin gown I'm wearing – I know purple is your favorite color, and go to the kitchen to pour us some coffee.

As I'm in the kitchen, I feel you at the door, and I go to open it. You smile at me with those lovely blue eyes and I invite you in. When I close the door, you turn to me and slide your hands around my waist. I bury my face in your neck and inhale the scent of your skin.

"Would you like some coffee?" I ask. 

"Of course, thank you," you reply and relax gracefully onto the sofa. 

We sit and talk for a while about how our day has gone and what our plans are for the week. But in the back of my mind, and lower in my body, I can feel the energy curling up, building simply because I'm near you and your energy connects with mine.

"What?" you ask me, with a small smile playing on your lips. 

You look at me with desire in your eyes. You can feel me. You can see right through me. The knowledge of that makes me sigh deeply and close my eyes. I lie back on the sofa with you, curling my head into your chest. You kiss the top of my head, run your hand through my hair and your nails down my neck. I feel my skin heat up with the contact. I slide my hand under your shirt, feeling the softness of your skin on my fingertips. You relax into me and sigh. 

"Would you like to meditate for a while," I ask you, motioning to the pallet I've made on the floor. 

You nod and rise, taking my hand and leading me to stand next to you. You take my face in your hands and gently lay your forehead to mine – connecting with me, and we both open our energy. I put my arms around your waist and relax into the moment. You stand back and look at me, complimenting the color of my gown. I smile – because you know I chose it for you. 

I reach over and pull your shirt up over your head and drop it to the floor. Sliding down to my knees, I open your belt and slide your pants off your legs. You're wearing silk boxer shorts. I rub my cheeks against the fabric, and then remove those as well. Tracing the line of your body with small kisses, I rise again to look into your eyes. 

You pull my hair to the side and kiss my neck and shoulder, sliding one of the straps of my gown down my arm. You pull the other one down and let the gown drop to my feet. We both go down to our knees, and you glide your hands over my body, lightly running your nails down my skin. With our arms around each other, looking into one another's eyes, we greet each other with "Namaste." 

Lying next to each other, I feel you reach for my hand. As our fingers interlace, I feel the intense connection of melting into you. I can feel our energy mingling. You're inside me...I'm inside you...and we both breathe deeply. Slow, deep breaths. And being with you, breathing into you, just like this, is ecstatic. 

I close my eyes, and breathe into my heart center. Opening to you, knowing that everything I am, I share with you. I let that energy move over you, sliding through your chakras, one by one, letting you feel the breeze of my energy inside of you. You hold my hand more tightly, and I feel the ripples of your energy go through me, like water under my skin. Floating in a sea of energy. I lose my 'self' – I exist only in this moment. 

We turn and look into each other's eyes. We can both see the love without condition expressed to one another. Feel it like a feathery light around us. We embrace, and I can feel your love and desire – inside of me and out. 

I'm already wet – I want you inside of me, outside of me, through me. I kiss your mouth gently, and you put your hands in my hair, pulling me to you. You kiss me, on my mouth, my cheeks, my eyes, my neck, and I wrap my arms around you, opening my energy to run over your skin as my nails glide down your back. 

"I want you," you breathe into my mouth. 

"You have me," I whisper back. 

You kiss me hard, and I feel your tongue in my mouth. My energy body opens, lightens, and escalates. I use my hands to lay you back and run my hands over your body – chest, arms, face, stomach, thighs, calves, feet...and back up again. I kiss your mouth and press my lips to your heart. Laying my face on your chest and letting my hair tickle across your skin. You sigh and touch my hip. I rub my body all over you – letting my skin and yours touch, heat up and mingle. 

I flick my tongue across your thigh and you catch your breath. I put my hand over your heart, letting my energy mingle with yours even further as I wrap my lips around the head of your beautiful cock. I lick the sweetness from the tip and swirl my tongue around it. Then I take you into my mouth as far as I can, sliding you in and out of me, letting your wetness and mine slide down your skin. 

I flick my tongue under the head, letting you feel the hardness of my piercing and the softness of my mouth. Stroking you gently, I gently lick the space where your hips and thighs meet, placing soft kisses down them, and going down to take your balls in my mouth one at a time. You moan and press your hips toward me, and I slide your cock across my lips and into my mouth. Long, slow strokes with my lips, tongue and fingers. I feel you get swollen and harder. 

You breathe deeply and twine my hair around your fingers, pulling me up to your mouth and kissing me. 

My thighs are slick with wetness from my desire for you, and I balance myself over your body, using my hand to slide your cock between the lips of my pussy. You feel so good to me. Pressing your hips upward, I feel you thrust into me, and I gasp with the sudden pleasure of it. I slide down onto you, grinding my hips into you in small, slow circles. I love feeling you this deeply inside of me. I put my hands on your chest and look at you. 

You put your hands over my heart, and I feel you pour energy into my heart, downward, and rising again to my crown. I am completely overcome. The room has become hazy. There is nothing but us in this moment.

We reach for each other's hands and grasp tightly. I can feel your energy through my hands, in my body, in my heart, in my head. I grind myself into you – holding you as deeply inside of me as I can. You can feel my muscles contracting around your cock – pulling you into me. I feel your mouth on my breast, and you roll the nipple with your tongue and bite it. I feel myself explode and cum into you. I wrap my arms around you and hold you to me – cumming again as I feel the energy circulate between us.

You turn me onto my back and kiss me. Starting with my mouth, you kiss my throat, the sides of my neck, my shoulders, brushing your lips across my breasts, you bite each of my nipples and I moan with pleasure. You kiss my belly and spread my thighs, letting your mouth hover over me. I have to concentrate to slow my breathing; my desire for you is so intense. You flick your tongue across my clit and I gasp. 

You reach up to glide your fingertips down my arms and take my hands – pinning them to the floor as you run your tongue up and down my pussy. Tasting my wetness, making my clit hard and swollen. You can feel my energy building again. Licking me softly, up and down, I grasp your hands tightly, cry out and cum into your mouth as you take my clit between your lips and suck on it gently.

I want you inside of me – I look at you and you kiss my thighs and slide your body up mine, until I feel your hard cock between my legs. You kiss me and thrust into me at once, and I moan and breathe into you, wrapping my legs around your hips. You take my arms and hold them above my head, hands intertwined. Our bodies are completely aligned with one another, as you put your face to mine and look into my eyes. The intensity of love I feel in this moment is complete. 

You slide in and out of me, slowly, gently, and my body responds to you. You thrust into me deeply and press your heart to mine, and I feel our energy open, melt into one another. The gentle breeze and peaceful waters are fast becoming a hurricane. We are nothing but energy. Moving together, I can no longer feel separate from my source. My orgasm overtakes me – my body feels as if it's melting away - and from you, I can hide nothing, nor do I want to.

I wrap my arms and legs around you, and press my body into yours, burying my face into your neck, I smell your scent and taste your skin. I feel your arms go around me as well, and the pace of your thrusts quickens, then slows, as you exhale slowly, letting the energy flow, letting the sensation continue. 

I press my hands into your back, working them up the strong curve of your back, slowly, until I take your face in my hands and kiss your mouth, willing all of my energy into you. I cry out, as my orgasm explodes through my body and into you. I feel you tighten, and then explode into me, thrusting deep and hard into my body, and feel our spirits dance together in ecstasy.

You lie next to me and we hold hands, relaxing into the moment, knowing that we have nothing to hide, nothing to fear, and feeling the joy of that. 

You look at me and whisper, "Namaste," and I smile and say the same. 

We easily slip into meditation, and we know truly, that 'the present moment and the human soul meet at the infinite.'



Butterflies



Her stomach is full of butterflies, clenched in a nervous knot. She paces back and forth, passing the other anxious people. They are all waiting. She is waiting for him, the one who fills her mind. "What insanity prompted me to do this?" she thought. Yet she knew. Their connection had been instant, and lasting. For years, they had been arranging the clandestine meetings, as they were both unable to stop thinking of the other. 

Finally she sees him, walking out from the airport terminal. As always, she runs into his arms, instantly safe and secure through his strength. Yet she is also a touch uncomfortable because he sees right through her into that deepest part of herself. A quick kiss, a touching of lips, yet somehow this simple embrace reminds them both of all the passion that always rises between them. "I'm so glad you're here! How was your flight?" As they walk back towards the baggage claim she peppers him with questions in an attempt to disguise her nervousness. Inwardly she wonders if he likes what he sees, if she is the one who will finally hold this restless warrior's heart. 

On the drive home, back to her small first apartment, they lapse into the conversations that have kept them going. No one understands her as well, can talk about so many things, real things, as he can. Once inside she is not sure what to do. The apartment seems cramped when filled with two. 

He is not tall, only five foot eight, yet his training shows through in the wide shoulders and tautly muscled arms. His legs are powerful from years of running and long-ago high school athletics. His lightly tanned skin is a testament to the Florida sun where he makes his home. Brown hair, cropped in an adaptation of the classic military crew, is just long enough so she can run her fingers through it. Beginning to be lightly streaked with gray, it sets off his intelligent hazel eyes.

His movements seem scripted, and they very well may be; they have danced to this tune many times before. With smoothness unexpected for all its familiarity, he draws her flush against him. They fit perfectly, so that in her heels, she meets him eye to eye. One thing she loves is how he always touches her, and true to form he lets his hands sweep up and down her back. Long, smooth strokes that both soothe her nerves and awaken her desires. 

This close to him she can feel his hot, hard length. It pushes against her, begging to be allowed into the warm depths of her body. With her arms around his neck she is helpless to resist his hands framing her face, drawing her close for a deep, searching kiss. His hand reaches back, into her short blonde hair, as if to anchor her to him, and to reality. His tongue duels with hers, a thrust and retreat that hints of events to come. 

Even with his lips on hers, she can still feel his touch. It seems to scorch through her clothing. She can feel every touch as his hands lightly cruise up and down her arms, then over her shoulders and along her collarbone. She is alive, shivering with the sensations that send tingles through her body, down between her legs, where it settles to an aching warmth and liquid pull. 

His hands drift lower, down to where they lightly cup her breasts. A perfect handful, he noticed the instant he saw her that she had no bra on. Now, touching her breasts, he can feel every inch of the perky crests, straining towards his attention. He breaks the kiss to set his lips cruising leisurely down her neck, hitting all the sensitive spots he knows so well. Her breath catches, then releases in a rush as he begins to slowly unbutton her white shirt. 

Her eyes locked on his, she kicks off her heeled black mules, sending one skittering across the wood floor to land under the sofa. As his hands brush her breasts, her nipples tighten into hard, almost painful points. Finally reaching the last button, his hands part the halves of her shirt, revealing her to him. Her eyes close on a moan of pleasure as he bends to take one sweet nipple into his mouth. Her hands fall limply to her sides as he grabs the curve of her hips. He kisses and licks all over her breasts, drawing ever diminishing circles until finally, oh finally he suckles. 

Her breath rushes out on a moan. He suckles her breast lightly at first, then more deeply, trying to draw her further into him. As he repeats the motions on her other breast, then switching between the two, she runs her hands over his shoulders, trying to reach as much of him as possible.

Realizing the temptation of her luscious body can no longer be denied, he effortlessly swings her into his arms for the short walk to the bedroom. Once there, they fall to the bed. His hands, before content to roam the upper half of her body, now glide over her legs in teasing, tantalizing touches. Dexterously, he flips the button on the denim skirt open and slowly eases the zipper down. She lifts her hips to help him take it off. Once free of her legs, it is thrown aside to land on the floor with a soft thud.

Bared to his fully clothed gaze, she feels his every glance over her body. One of his hands comes to rest at her hip, while the other reaches between her legs to her softness. A low groan escapes him as the realization that she is damp, drippingly wet washes over him. Blunt fingertips spread her lips, then stroke up and down the length of her slit, further arousing her passion. One finger lightly probes the entrance to her honeyed depths, and then eases in, a tempting reminder of the fullness to come. Another finger joins the one thrusting into her as his thumb settles over her pearl. His hand works slowly at first, then faster as her hips lift in rhythm. As she climbs the peak towards climax, her alabaster skin takes on a rose glow. 

She tightens on his hand and he knows she is oh so close. "Look at me." Her eyes flutter open at his soft command. Her pupils are dilated, unfocused with desire. "Come for me, now." At his words her body trembles as her orgasm overtakes her. He savors her contractions around his fingers, wishing it was another part of his body being so intimately caressed. As she comes down from her peak, he slowly withdraws his fingers. 

He leans over her, kissing her again, almost praise for gifting him with her pleasure. He moves off the bed and quickly sheds shirt, shoes, socks, jeans, and finally his boxers. He settles back over her, letting her feel his weight and the strength of his body, yet not crushing her. 

She reaches up and runs her hands over him. Over his chest, reveling in the crisp hair and taut muscle, then down, over his stomach, and further still, to where his rod sticks out in jarring contrast to the nest of hair that surrounds it. Almost delicately she touches him. Her hand encircles him, and it is all he can do not to push against her, to thrust into her soft hand. At the wicked gleam in her eye that promises much teasing torture, he decides to take action. 

He drives into her, savoring her warmth and wet as she eases, then clasps about him. He begins to thrust, rubbing against her sensitive parts over and over. All too quickly they feel their climax reaching, calling their names. She wraps her legs about his hips, and it proves their undoing. With one final thrust she spasms around him again as he shoots deep inside her hot warmth. 

With a groan, he falls to the bed. Curling her against him, he brushes a kiss over her hair. "Thank you." His words and the tender expression on his face make her smile. Maybe, just maybe she has a shot to finally win his heart as much as he has hers.



Butterflies



There were a lot of good reasons to be out this early, but none as wonderful as seeing this first Giant Swallowtail awakening, and John smiled as it moved. Magnificent, he whispered, in awe of this giant as it slowly unfurled it's Forewings against the sun's morning warmth. It was, as they always were at this time of day, lethargic and calm.

"Papilio Cresphontes Cramer" by it's scientific name, John whispered, but only to himself as the relative giant of insects ignored him. 

Swallowtail butterflies were large to begin with. Very large when compared to most butterflies, but this one was exceptional, John noted. More than exceptional as he held the ruler up long ways to record the initial span of it's wings. 

Male Swallowtails normally had a wing span of 4 - 6 inches, but this giant at least 10 inches, perhaps more as it extended itself that full span against the tree to warm itself. John smiled at his find, focusing his camera a second before taking several rapid shots. It was, without a doubt, the largest butterfly he'd ever seen in the four years he'd been admiring these beauties. 

How strange it was suddenly , that sense of wonder he had. It wasn't for it's size, which was huge, but because it appeared to be looking back from it's wings. More so given the grandeur of its size. 

"So beautiful," John whispered to himself over that design inspired by nature herself. 

Those colors brilliant, while beautiful, were not just for the sake of beauty. Those colors and designs had evolved to give the impression of an owl's head. Owls scare off most birds that like butterflies, and for a butterfly that was a good thing. 

The ones that looked more like an owl didn't get eaten, and those that didn't get eaten fostered the next generation. Evolution, in this case, enhanced by selection, or better said that lack of selection from birds, and as this particular butterfly evolved so did that look. 

This one, because of its size, even more wondrous and intense in those colors. That intensity heightened as the sun glistened off that blend of tiny colorful scales. Colors shimmering in their diagonal bangs of yellow, on the darkest black, trailing to more yellow. He was as pretty as anything John had seen.

So pretty that John's concentration was intensely focused on nothing else. So focused in those moments that he failed to see the second, even larger Swallowtail, fluttering almost in a hover behind him. It fluttered silently just above and behind only to light on the very edge of John's collar, unnoticed. 

That receptive female scent that it had caught on the breeze, the reason, and only reason, it did so. 

That Swallowtail on John's collar didn't find the female it was looking for, nor her eggs, but that didn't matter as Nature's imperative and a chemical compulsion was answered. 

That Swallowtail also didn't know that the scent was artificial as it made an attempt to fertilize an egg that wasn't there. There was only the lightest touch at the back of John's neck as the males "claspers" at the end of his abdomen clamped lightly on what he thought was the females own abdomen. John felt a light tickle just at his threshold of awareness.

John swept his hand behind himself thinking, subconsciously, of mosquitos, then stood in awe over an even larger Swallowtail now fluttering off to his left, it's work done. That second easily as big as the one he was taking pictures of and the odds of that were astronomical given natures rules.

There was another Swallowtail fluttering nearby but that first had, along with it's sperm package, left a methyl salicylic which is a kind of anti-aphrodisiac killing the scent for any other interested of his kind. Within seconds that tiny drop of sperm that was deposited on John's neck cancelled out the Pheromones John had applied earlier. 

It had been John's use of that scent that had attracted that butterfly and John smiled as he realized why that male had dared come so close. It was the scent of a female Swallowtail. Pheromones John had applied with a small swab at the base of his neck. 

A dab really, just a few particles of it, but enough to bring those males within touching distance. A very cleaver idea, given the growing number of butterflies now within his reach, as he continued taking pictures. He would thank Ms. Everett her suggestion when he'd see her again that day. 

He had thanked her on several occasions for a number of reasons, not the least of which her influence which drove him into the forest these days. Her influence and encouragement to forego those other boy's taunts and teases that he was a sissy for doing what he did. 

Watching and cataloging Butterflies were not exactly a masculine past time for a boy, and John paid dearly for that when he first mentioned it in passing to his friend. "You're doing what?" Was the last thing one of his friends had said to him.

John would someday be an Lepidopterists like Ms. Everett. An entomologist with a specialty. A person who studies insects, but who specializes in the collection and study of butterflies, and moths, or, as that friend confirmed in a slightly disgusted tone that day, "you're actually collecting butterflies!"

Meanwhile that small dot of liquid that the male Swallowtail had left for the sake of his species, as it might on a female's egg, slowly infused itself into John's skin. It was as easily absorbed into John's upper epidermal, or top layer of skin as it might that egg if there had been an egg. 

What was different were those chemicals that John's body began assimilating almost instantly. Those chemicals and a half dozen powerful proteins were very new to this world and John might have had cause for concern had John known that, but he didn't. 

Fortunately what John didn't know wouldn't kill him, but it most definitely was going to change him. There were going to be changes and not too unlike the changes that had caused that Swallowtail to grow as big as it had. It would be a remarkable event given that John's DNA was involved or soon would be.

DNA, the instructions behind that book of life, had changed just before that butterfly had hatched. It nearly killed those first few butterflies within their cocoon, because two more inches of growth was almost too much, and that wasn't too long ago. Actually this change was born of a chain of events beginning only a few months ago.

It started with several tenacious plants growing near the waste center of a nuclear storage facility. A facility just one hundred miles to the North of where John stood. A facility for the Department of energy and quietly built fifteen years ago over the protest of locals and the homes that were razed because of it. Few people, at least nowadays, even knew it was there still, or why if they did. Although nature didn't care and plants still grew. 

Those odd plants, as it happens, were native and near the staging area to the underground facility that housed a million pounds of radioactive chemicals already. Radiation, only slight, had been taken in by those plants and, as part of the food chain, so too the caterpillar. A very particular caterpillar that favored those native plants while it fed itself for the incredible metamorphosis it was soon going to commit itself to.

Radiation, but well within government standards, and ignored because of those standards, was still too high for something so delicate as a butterfly. Of course the government's standards might be a point to argue, because it was the government that set those standards. Although that was neither here nor there as those caterpillars ate ravenously. As always, it would be their last meal.

As it also happens those same plants are the plants that Swallowtails like as caterpillars. Those plants are called the Hop tree or Ptelea Trifoliata, to those in the know. One of those food sources for the Papilio Creshontes Cramer or Swallowtail, but only when it is a caterpillar host and then only until creating it's chrysalis.

That radiation was high, but not high enough to alarm anyone at the site. At least not until the Geiger counter's clicks increased one day. A seam, unknown but nearly 400 meters long, allowed a small amount of radiated gas to seep upward and finally outward. 

Fortunately, even if it was harmful, that plant was already sealed in a thick yellow plastic bag marked both nuclear and hazardous before it could harm anyone. That plant, in it's bag, was also now heading into a vast chamber dug out of the limestone and seven hundred feet below ground. 

Unfortunately that chrysalis, or several actually, had already hatched, and just as unfortunate it wasn't an "anyone" that received those high doses that didn't alarm anyone. That Swallowtail, as large as it was, wasn't large relative to us, but that radiation taken through the food chain did cause harm of a sort. 

A mutation had occurred and rapidly within those caterpillars within their chrysalis. A mutation carried off easily because of that Swallowtail's own remarkable metamorphosis. Seven of them changed and seven emerged. Seven adult butterflies joined together for the long trip South. Resting, as it happens, in the forest where John was now standing.

A Lepidopterists, or that entomologist like Ms. Everett, might have understood what was happening to those Swallowtails. She understood butterflies in many ways since she specialized in the collection and study of those and other insects. She understood it would be an anomaly. 

With a scientific background and a questioning mind, Ms. Everett would have desperately wanted to know what was happening to these few monsters, but she wasn't there. No one was around that morning as John's body, within minutes, began mounting a silent defense against another microscopic unknown. 

John's white blood cells found the first few invading cells of that Swallowtail and a chemical alert within his body was issued immediately. Something foreign had registered and was now under attack. Each cell of that butterfly was identified as alien and the battle began. 

Those first few fights, carried on silently by John's own defenses, won easily. For an analogy that battle took the same course as the beginnings of a cold or flu virus. It was and wasn't a virus because nothing on Earth evolved the way these mutated genes did. It just acted like a virus. Something almost like a cold for want of a better analogy. 

Unfortunately, like a cold, it was the speed of their alien divisions and that infection which began turning the tide against John's defenses. At first John's body won those fights handily. Within the first hour that changed and by the time John had ended his morning in the forest that battle would have been called a draw. 

By the time John reached home to get ready for school that battle had shifted decidedly in favor of the virus and was well established as John went about the rest of his day unaware. Those radiated nuclei from that butterfly were now passing John's defenses in easy victories. There were millions now and they were already infusing themselves within John's own DNA as he made lunch.

That necessity to live and, more importantly, to replicate themselves forced this process. A demand throughout nature and nature, above all else, is very demanding. Nature is also adaptive, and this above all else is Nature's highest calling next to propagation. 

Natures adaptive imperative was answered in a number of ways as those changing cells within John's body began changing John. Alien cells now mimicking John's cells, for protection, were ultimately being accepted within John's own DNA structure and his own design was changing. What nature also decided to do, what she's done so often, and within those hours, was find a way to make that unworkable design workable. 

What was different, besides the two species once genetically miles apart, was that John wasn't a butterfly nor female. He was a male and human, or rather he had been. He was still human, but that male part, or those male hormones constantly battling against those female hormones that men and women share at birth, were shifting slightly in their delicate balance. 

The fight, the same as before, went on, but the outcome was now definitely changing. That butterfly, in his attempt to infuse a female's eggs, did so with a genetically defined male - John and John wasn't a butterfly. Under any other circumstances it wouldn't work. Of course all that was really wrong was John being male. Although, one could argue, John hadn't been fully male right after conception and there were still some things nature could do to leverage off that original intent. 

That other side, that side hidden when John's testis formed in those first twelve weeks as a fetus, were suddenly aroused. John didn't feel that either as he slipped into bed that night. And that night John began a subtle but definite metamorphosis. He did scratch some as things changed slightly, and he tossed around a bit over some minor discomforts, but, for the most part, he slept through those changes.

Some of those changes, natural changes even without this new process, would someday be seen when John grew older. Older men lose testosterone, and their masculinity that comes with it, as do women their estrogen during menopause. It's why men, later in life, grow breast of a sort, and woman on occasion, a mustache. Those natural hormones, had he been born a girl and still carried, were now under new instructions and this time with a new power behind them.

John's sleep was surrounded by dreams of butterflies fluttering about, and those boys taunting him as a sissy for fluttering about with them. His mind also accepting a portion of a new potion his own body was now making. A potion that science would someday know about when the discussions of what makes males male and females, female. John, like the caterpillar, was changing and it would be striking those changes.

There was a metamorphose underway and like a caterpillar changing into a butterfly it's an incredible change. A change so complete and so striking as to alter fully the nature or appearance of that caterpillar turned butterfly, and now it was John's turn. 

John too was turning into something not completely John. Remarkably John's first changes were for the new chemicals his body would need. John's circulatory system began accepting a new fluid similar to hemolymph (also spelled haemolymph). Hemolymph made up of mostly water, inorganic salts and organic compounds (close to sea water) now carried a lot of newer salts and compounds John's new body needed.

John was changing physically and mentally and was doing so within hours of that moment in the forest. It takes twelve hours for the common cold to take hold and give us a hint that we have it. It took about that same amount of time for all of the signals that flow through us naturally to change as well, and John woke to a new world. John woke to the same sun, room and bed, but clearly it didn't feel the same.

In this case it was that dream remembered on his way to his shower and that notice of his skin when he woke. He had moved to scratch and in doing so stopped to notice the texture of his skin. There was an odd texture to his skin that left him slightly aware of it and slightly curious over it. A rough texture just a tad more dry than normal. 

Perhaps a rash, John mused, perhaps not - hopefully not. 

John thought immediately of those few poisonous plants he was aware of when he was out in that part of the forest. He hadn't seen any of them, and he looked, carefully, but that didn't mean they were not there. He used his scrub brush and his medicated soap for just this sort of thing as he showered. It didn't hurt to be cautious, he mused. 

John scrubbed hard. That scrubbing had worked, but oddly so, as he dried himself. It was that sense of touch through his fingertips and a smoothness to his skin he'd never noticed before. Like moist silk if you are looking for a vision of what it might feel like then. It wasn't fully an unpleasant feel. Odd that feeling perhaps, but definitely not unpleasant.

John would have to remember that particular brand of soap for the future, he mused casually as he dressed, believing still it was the soap. There were other things he mused over that morning and some of it in how delighted he felt during his walk to Dr. Everett's office. His pictures, those wonderful pictures, were in hand as he knocked on her door. He was light headed as his endorphins danced within and around his thoughts.

"Where in heaven's name did you take these," Helen asked instantly, standing up in utter surprise. 

Ms. Everett, Helen to those who knew her well enough, had been studying the Swallowtails, and other local species of butterflies in that area, for nearly two decades now. Her doctorate came from that study and this particular species, now in John's photo, but never anything like these. 

This wonder, shown sitting above the ruler John had held, was beyond anything she had seen and John smiled. Of course he knew it was Helen's favorite and some of that was the reason for his smile, and his delight that previous morning taking those pictures. Other thoughts made him smile more as she insisted they go back and find them, together. 

Together, John mused, happily.

They searched for hours that day and again that following day before she found one of them laying haphazardly on the ground, dead. This one measured a full eleven inches beyond the seven inch monster she had displayed in it's own case at her lab. Her own sense of excitement equal only to John's in those moments as she slipped the butterfly carefully into a large plastic bag. 

Helen would mount it, describe it's size and share credit with him. Credit on both his find, and efforts on the new paper she planned. John felt giddy as he made his way to his dorm that evening. That love affair between them, but only known to John, flared as well as he showered again. He had felt so gritty again and wanted to bring back that silkiness he'd had from his previous shower.

John not only felt gritty but his joints ached. His joints ached and his testicles felt warm to the touch and he smiled a little over that. He smiled because he was thinking of Helen Everett as he touched them. Definitely catching something, he mused, as he stepped back out of the shower again. He didn't notice those hairs swirling within the soap and water draining away before he dried. His scrubbing had taken them away easily.

He met Helen early that following morning. They had made love again that night or rather John dreamed of making love with her that night, and he savored that dream as they entered the forest once again. It was a fairy tale morning in more ways than one. A small thin layer of fog hugged the ground forming delicate slow moving tendrils easing, independently, through the trees making the forest appear even more magical.

"Dr. Patter is almost positive it's a genetic anomaly, and most likely even environmental!" Helen said to John when they met that morning. Their field trip, while shorter this time because of their schedules was still exciting for John. That amount of time they had didn't matter, because John took any amount of time, given his feelings for this woman, as time well spent. 

Ironically those same feelings was growing in an odd way for Helen, as well. That notice came about on that second day causing Helen to wonder over it. Helen was behind John following him. John was, and this she kept to herself, actually pretty looking in a girlish sort of way. 

Why Helen hadn't noticed that before was not clear to her as they drove back to school, but she did now. She also didn't consciously notice that subtle change in John's own pheromones or scent, but her subconscious did and those new signals were suddenly growing very strong within her.




Butterflies



John's skin glistened and looked so smooth to the touch, and would have been, were Helen bold enough to do so. She would die for that sort of skin, she mused. She would have loved to touch it, as well, but she didn't dare. John was, after all, a male and a student. For Helen those were two very large taboos. Taboo first because of their individual status, the other because of Helen's gender preferences in partners.

John had his own thoughts in that same distance and time. More between the forest and school and some of it over those panties he wore. Of course they were not really panties if you ignored his father's opinions on such things. They were Hannes "His Way" and while they might look like panties, and were silky nylon, the company clearly said they were for men.

Which, according to his father, didn't make it so. Besides, his father had said in that knowing tone, Hannes only made panties for women as far as he was concerned. Which all came out one morning when John walked from the shower back to his room during a visit. His mother understood what they were, but his father - never! Men's underpants do not glisten nor shine, nor shimmer, he said flatly.

That had been his old girlfriend's comments the day she bought those panties for him. Girls nowadays were wearing cotton underwear and boys, some boys, nylon. She smiled over that and before long, thanks to that girl's gift and a light touch of encouragement, John was also smiling over that. 

He had only worn those panties dating her before then, and only then because when he did so she rewarded him in such glorious and sensuous ways. She loved the feel of nylon on him, and because he was wearing them when she noted that, so did he. Hannes, he had joked, was "Her Way" and when she had "Her Way" those panties had easily become "His Way".

His father, on the other hand, made it clear that anything that didn't have ugly slits in the front were panties. Slits were there for a guy to reach into before doing his duty. If you had to pull your pants down to do that duty then they were panties. "Guys only pull their underpants down to sit and do their other duty!" His father had said. 

Although, in an odd irony, John's father had made it very clear that it might be ok for John to wear such things. Even OK to sit for all of his duties, since he was skipping about catching butterflies. Guys that catch butterflies are most often those same guys that don't mind pulling their pants down to do their duty. Or so his father also said.

John remembered those comments as he searched his underwear drawer. His own shorts, those cotton ones, were suddenly feeling far too harsh that morning when he set them in place. He bought cheap soap for his laundry and blamed that harshness on the soap. He also blamed the pain in his joints on the flu. He wore the white silky nylon Hannes "His Way" when he slipped into his jeans.

By that afternoon John felt lousy, and headed for the school's nursing office.

A fever of 101 was high but not extreme, the nurse said, as she too wrote down the flu on John's chart. She also confirmed his age again wondering over his nearly pre-pubescence body from his neck down. She too thought he was slightly too pretty for a boy, and most likely a late bloomer besides, as she handed John a "what to do when you've got the flu" sheet of paper fresh off the printer. 

John was already doing what was written, he decided, as he paid his five dollars co-pay, and tossed the instruction sheet into the trash outside. That morning was the worse of it anyway as he woke to a damp bed sheet. A very gross very damp bed sheet, he thought to himself. He noted, only casually, what looked like fine grained sand and those few remaining hairs he'd shed during the night.

What was forming, in a biological sense, was a type of chrysalis, or at least, as close as a human might come to making a chrysalis. John's body, in fact, was attempting to emulate a butterfly each night and each morning, since John was human, was shedding that covering off. 

John was actually losing skin cells bathed in a kind of salt that was being fluffed off from John's own epidermal. Those upper epidermal cells were being joined by way of a silky like mucus before hardening and once John's body was protected it began altering itself or trying to.

John was also attempting to do what was only done in the first twelve weeks of gestation for a human fetus. He was doing what babies do in a mother's womb, as his body attempted to answer a signal it wasn't suppose to be getting any longer or ever for that matter. A metamorphosis of a sort and most of the reasons his body ached in places that had hinted at the flu. 

We are conceived without a sex or, put another way, with all of the material for both sexes or either sex if you prefer. We evolve first with all of the material to make us female or male, and without that signal from our chromosomes or, more specifically, that "Y" that gets attached to the male's, we will simply continue on as females. 

Before that signal the genital systems are identical or defined another way - neutral. With that chemical signal given changes begin and testicles form. From those testicles comes the stuff that men are truly made of. The rest is simply our bodies answering all of those instructions that make us into what we will ultimately become. 

Occasionally those signals get mixed and, in this case, John's were mixing again under a new design driven by a new mandate. 

If John was still that early fetus there would still be gonads which can become ovaries, cervix and fallopian tubes or, as in his case, testicles. Were he still a fetus that phallus could become either a clitoris or penis and those genital folds either a labia or scrotum. Since John had that "Y" chromosome he'd made the transition to male by his third month in his mother's womb. When his testicles formed they in turn completed that masculine process.

Since John was to be born male those gonads developed into testicles and those testicles began producing the male hormone testosterone. That testosterone led to the development of his penis, scrotum and the internal tubular system that would later carry his sperm. 

Another hormone, also produced by the testicles acted as an inhabiter and called the anti-mullerian hormone or AMH. AMH inhibits the development of a uterus and vagina. That inhabiter had all but disappeared by now with John's body under new instructions.

What was happening now, and because John's body was trying to metamorphose his body from male to female he was going to be something for science to consider. John's body was attempting to reverse most everything that John had been through as a fetus and nearly over that same 'relatively short' amount of time. A nearly impossible task given the circumstances, but it didn't lesson the effort his body gave. Mass was moving, shifting, changing and that redistribution of fatty tissue and muscle cells was rapid and constant.

It was constant and becoming relentless, in those first few days. So too even John's hair. His hair, the hair on his head, once growing at one sixteenth of an inch per day, was now nearly a half inch in twenty four hours, and he only noticed that because his hand went further along the pony tail he wore before the rubber band was added on to hold it together.

His body hair had also changed as well. He thought it was growing lighter as it did in the Summer which was coming closer. John noticed that on the forth day. Although, as he thought more about it, he remembered it wasn't quite Summer yet. 

An alarm went off then and what to do about it was on his mind as he walked to class. You simply don't lose that much body hair unless something is wrong, although it didn't seem like that much hair when he finally did notice.

Which wasn't all of what was causing his alarm. His pants hanging slightly more lose at the waist and his belt at it's first hole as well but now more snug at his hips. Not much more snug, but noticeable given it was his own body in his own favorite jeans that no longer felt like his favorite. 

He forced himself to eat a bit more and was drinking constantly given what he perceived as his "illness". Thinking he had the flu was the only reason he didn't run back to the nurse in a full panic. 

He also noticed, but only in passing and just for a second, that his elbows now struck his sides more as he walked. That was odd since they hadn't before. In John's case it was those tendons and muscles causing that. It wasn't simply fatty or muscle tissue changing, but tendons as well, and from behind more than a few guys at school noticed.

Some muscles were tightening, some growing more loose. Just a slight tightening of his tendons on one side and a bit loser on the other was all that it took to draw his elbows in. A purposeful design in women so that arms hanging at the sides did so properly. Properly over jutting hips if you were a girl that is. In this case his hips began to enlarge and for the same reason as a girl's in spite of John's gender. 

It would have also seemed odd for the two young men walking behind John who admired the girl they thought they were admiring as they did so. They looked, but with that casualness almost all males share in recognizing someone of the opposite sex. Their thoughts would have been far different had they known who they were watching walking before them.

More fatty tissue had formed around John's thighs, both inside and out, and his bottom was shifting slightly from his waist at the back. Fatty tissue, designed to cushion a woman's bottom, was now being added to cushion John's bottom as well. 

That was what the guys had noticed first. Not much as it happens, but his pants fit slightly differently as did those so called men's panties he now wore again. They had gathered on those thighs sooner than before or so it seemed. 

John's lips, as well, had also gathered a few more fatty cells and puckered a tiny bit more that day. All of this relatively small as changes go. Nothing dramatic and not noticed when John faced the mirror, but, again, it was constant. Slowly, and unfortunately ceaseless. Ceaseless but slowly. 

So slowly that those individual changes didn't show individually, but taken together as a whole, there were enough changes to show overall. Finally John's pores had tightened, smoothing his body and face and to a casual observer it was decidedly becoming a girl's face.

That was what Helen noted as she greeted him and the rest of his class in Biology that morning. John was looking very female or so she mused, and why that was so wasn't clear, but she liked that look. She liked those lips as well and wished, to herself, that he wore something kissable. Something with a bit more shimmer and perhaps a little color in it. Helen shook her head to clear it because she wanted desperately to kiss those lips as she began her days lesson. 

There were those, according to a dear friend of Helen's, who found being bi-sexual an advantage. Until that morning Helen hadn't. Although that thought stayed with Helen for most of that morning. She had never thought of being with a male till now, although not fully male, she mused. 

John would look so lovely in something Summery, silky and flowing, she also mused, as she sat behind her desk. She fought to concentrate on her lesson while she in turn moved her knees together slowly.

It hadn't gone well, that class, because Helen wasn't thinking of that class as she sat in her office correcting papers before calling it a day and that was when her day changed. Helen got the call from her own mentor, Dr. Patter, that evening. An emergency he'd said and it related to that butterfly she had given him to study. Helen was alarmed when he told her why, and John too, soon after that call from Helen. 

John was greeted by two men in white environmental suits after he realized he wasn't dreaming over that banging on his door. That butterfly Helen had mounted was now in a container marked "nuclear material" as was that small oak case she used. At John's room they carried yellow suitcases in, and there were clicks from the Geiger counter as they began their work. Helen stood there with an understanding look at John's confusion.

"John, what were you wearing on the day you found those butterflies?" Helen asked from the door and from behind a paper mask behind the two men in those suits. 

John told her, then the men in the white suits, before actually showing them. Fortunately and with the exception of one minor spike from the collar of his shirt, everything was within "high" norms. His shirt went with those two men in a thick plastic bag marked with the nuclear hazards logo and the panic ended as quickly as it began.

John's panic ended, but his fear was still there. Although his fear changed from shock to surprise after finding out that the butterfly they'd found, and the one he most likely touched, was radioactive. It wasn't much, but enough to alert the authorities who took an interest in such things. Wind patterns were discussed out of ear shot, and checked, and a source for that radiation guessed at within hours.

John was requested, at CDC's expense and the schools permission, to undergo test. As a routine, they had taken a blood test. Nothing serious or heavy duty, and simply a precaution to which John quickly agreed. If John had taken on some of that radiation it was more than likely equal to a normal X-Ray, nothing more, they said. There was no reason to be alarmed they also said. 

As it happens it wasn't even that much of a level, radiation wise, and John, after being poked, prodded and scanned was released. John was released after those few tests, and the butterfly in question was now seven hundred feet below the desert. As were those others those Geiger counters found within minutes after Helen showed them where the first had been laying.

John also met Dr. Prox as he was dressing at the end of his test. She was with the Center For Disease Control or CDC and an expert in radiation poisoning and while everything appeared normal, Dr. Prox wanted to be absolutely sure. She hadn't liked the notion of John's so called "flu".

Dr. Prox wanted to do a full and more complete physical that following day. John agreed again, and instantly, since his flu like symptoms hinted at something other than the flu. Radiation, John knew, caused the body to shed hair. Why Dr. Prox wanted to know if he was on any sort of hormone treatment wasn't clear. That came when she read his new blood test, but it was suggestive, and he worried over that for most of his dreams that night. 

John had left, albeit with some difficulty, a sperm sample. Only it wasn't sperm in his dreams because he was a girl this time. He was a girl, he dreamed, and rather than chasing butterflies he was simply running in a field full of them. 

John was in a yellow Summer dress of see through chiffon over a light nylon lining of white and his father was hollering, off in the distance, that those panties he was wearing were really girl's panties. Helen was running alongside telling him to ignore his father and that he looked good in her clothes. All that he needed, Helen said between breaths in that dream, was a bra if he was going to run around in something so pretty.

John woke with mixed emotions that morning and concern as he padded his way to his shower. His breast did hurt slightly he noted stepping under the warm water which, he mused, was the cause of such an odd dream. His shower hinted at why he'd dreamed of a bra, as he ran his soapy hands down his chest. He slowed at the nipples and stopped when the little mounds ended. 

Aside from the fact his chest was smooth and hairless there were now two nearly perfect little breast. Not breast per se but buds that hinted at breast. Dr. Prox's comments about hormones came back to him as he stood sideways in front of his mirror. That question of hers suggested that Dr. Prox also knew something. He was now guessing at that same thing.

His breast, and they were breast, were perhaps half a "B" cup if that, but still more than you'd see on a guy or him just a week ago, and that brought focus to his hips and thighs. His shape reminded him of a girl not far from puberty and that unnerved him. Not fully a girl's shape yet, but definitely not that of a boy's either. Oddly enough it didn't scare him as much as he'd thought it might, and wondered over that as he thought it. He only dressed then because he was running out of time and again wore the panties and this time for the sake of wearing panties. He wore his tee-shirt and jeans again, but they were decidedly more feminine than before, as his jeans flowed outward below a narrow waist to fill over his hips. There was a hint of breast that were now just pushing at the cotton of his tee.

Some guys like girls that don't look all that much like girls, or put another way, some guys like guys that don't look much like guys either. The guy in the guard's uniform, that guard that held the CDC door open for John, smiled as he did so. He smiled then and continued smiling all the while watching that young thing moving across the floor. For this man it wouldn't have mattered either way which gender John was.

The test took eleven hours and the questions were endless as John wondered through the mysteries of medical science and his history. Oddly enough the technician, in the far reaches of that same building, reading the results of his second blood test with the doctor, could find nothing out of the ordinary and she noted that right off. 

That last comment, the one right after that, was what made the doctor laugh so hard.

That technician, by the way, hadn't met nor seen John as she stood with the doctor. She had simply run some normal test on some normal blood. John, she said, and that was an odd name for a girl, was extremely healthy for a young female. She also guessed, based on her readings, that the girl, given the level and mix of hormones, was near the age of ten or so. 

That comment, for obvious reason, made Dr. Prox frown and smile, then laugh within seconds of that remark. It was those chemical traces, as spikes on his blood gases, that interested her. 

More so when she got a call from one of CDC's entomologist who was doing skin sample studies of John. They'd been taking skin samples, scrapings, every hour on the hour on John and there was an anomaly with those earlier samples.

"It appears to be human skin but it's formed a kind of structure not too unlike a chrysalis," That technician noted. It was the combinations of comments that caused Dr. Prox to call her boss and it was her boss that brought up the file under John's name. 

That man, a long time employee of the CDC, read John's file. Alarms, in his own brain, were going off as he did so. There was too many little things that all led to something bigger, he mused before typing again. A series of passwords were entered and a code was given. That code changed things instantly. It changed things throughout all of the CDC computer systems, and John's file became "Classified, Secret, Level 1, Eyes Only".

Questions arose for that entire day. It would be the same following that battery of psychological test. Those test were conducted by three different doctors. One at first, who then called in the other two. The second two had not met nor seen John either which was also on purpose. However, according to all three, John's thought processes were definitely female and, in fact, more so even than most females.

It wasn't simply his thoughts that were changing as the small biopsy needle was pulled carefully from a stainless steel casing that was used to tap into John's spine. John's brain chemistry, they discovered, was not male even slightly. Scans also confirmed that. 




Butterflies



In John's case, as in most females, there was decidedly more neurons and dendrites when the first electronic slices started to form to show John's brain. Not too unusual for some men, but decidedly more than unusual in this case because of everything else.

It was the scans that shook everyone sitting in front of those CRT images that evening. John's Cerebral hemisphere or more importantly that corpus callosum was showing new growth. The corpus callosum is the fibrous tract connecting the left and right sides of the brain. 

That tract was inherently larger in females. John's 200 million or so axons appeared to a number of surprised faces to have nearly doubled and in just a few days. An MRI was ordered and those magnetic resonance imaging results only confirmed the original diagnosis. 

Another MRI was ordered on John's hypothalamus. Focus on this scan was those two areas decidedly different in males and females. Remarkably John's preoptic area as well as his suprachiasmatic nucleus were again and definitely judged female. 

That would explain the headaches John was having one of the doctors noted. There was one other voice, coming from the back. A voice that caught everybody's attention then. That voice was from a noted Neuroscientist who read the shape of John's suprachiasmatic nucleus. 

"That elongation is definitely a female's shape! A male's is shaped more like a sphere," she said with enough conviction to leave everyone without any doubt as she added, "my guess is your patient's cramps and his hormone level changes are most likely a result of this young man trying to have a period and since he is a young man, therein lies the difficulty."

There was a snicker from someone.

"You're not serious," Another voice said with another snicker. It was a man's voice and that snicker wasn't humorous. He sounded nervous.

"Obviously it's not a true menstruation but as you can see, both his estrogen and progesterone levels have peaked during the luteal phase. That's clearly in support of his pituitary hormones," That voice said as the others looked at the chart she was now pointing to.

"Could be an anomaly," another doctor argued, another male.

"It could be, but I'm guessing it's not based on all the other evidence. If it is his body trying to menstruate, his corpus luteum will produce progesterone in addition to estrogens for approximately the next 2 weeks. If it doesn't then I'll agree it's an anomaly," the first doctor argued and added, "although I'm willing to bet it does."

"That might explain the discharge we're seeing," Another voice spoke up.

"Discharge," the woman asked.

"Not urine nor semen but something decidedly liquid," that voice noted.

"It could. Have you seen any changes in his brain waves since this all started," the woman asked.

"Discharge," A male doctor asked before an answer came.

"Not menstrual, but clearly there is fluidity and again, it's not urinary," The doctor making the original comment added.

"On those brain waves? Actually yes. His neural firing during his last MRI showed a frenzy of brain activity in both sides of his amygdalae suggesting a strong emotional reaction. Almost a constant so far," a voice in the dark said.

"How interesting this is going to be," that woman's voice said.

"How so," a male voice asked.

"No erection, due to the high levels of estrogen, while he experiences an almost constant, albeit a slow, ejaculation," the woman answered.

"Ejaculation," the man said in shock trying to understand what the woman had just said.

"Ejaculation! It's the only thing his body can use to emulate his period," the doctor noted smiling as she added, "sort of like an on-going wet dream."

"Orgasms," someone asked.

"For seven days," another added with a touch of envy.

"Seven days of orgasms," another male said slightly in awe.

"He's going to be very sensitive," the female doctor noted and added, "and if this is his pattern it's going to be monthly."

Someone else asked her if she was serious, and she went on, "the suprachiasmatic nucleus is that portion of the brain that defines our circadian rhythms as well as our reproductive cycles. All you've got to do is look at the spikes - it's all there." 

She smiled at the mystery she faced simply because this really was a mystery. She also kept a couple of other thoughts to herself. John, she mused, would be the first male that could fully and quite literally, understand what a female goes through month to month but for John it would be far more pleasurable than for a woman. 

John was still under the effects of a light anesthesia when they tapped him into a disposable diaper and began monitoring his new "period". It was for his sake when the nurse did so although he wasn't fully aware of it till later. 

John wasn't discharging anything like a female, but he was discharging uncontrollably and the problem was, the doctor noted to a CDC nurse when the diaper was ordered, "It's got to be a diaper because they just don't make a Kotex designed for males trying to be female." 

John, the doctors also noted when they finally convened again, was decidedly more girl than boy. According to his latest scans and hormone levels, a girly girl as one of the doctors, a medical psychologist, put it. 

If she was looking at a patient, she said, without knowing that patient was male and with those results, she'd expect to see mostly pinks, ribbons and bows with a strong above average taste for Barbie. It was clear, by the tone of her voice she didn't much care for girly girls the other two doctors decided as she talked of her results.

When those who didn't know that it was a male were told John was male they all agreed that he was definitely not 100% male. Perhaps, at best, half that. A hermaphrodite, someone suggested, most likely misdiagnosed at birth, given his newly forming attributes and those chemical structures. 

Perhaps even something of a evolving hermaphrodite although that wasn't clear either because it wasn't clear where John was headed. In any event with his test concluded, it was noted that John, at the very least, could easily set the standards for a classic and budding young transsexual on a very aggressive hormone treatment. A transsexual on some very heavy doses of hormones besides. 

One of the nurses, the one that tapped John into his first disposable, could have told them that, she mused, as she rolled John's ample hips towards her for a fresh diaper. There are some boys, she noted as she tapped John's second diaper closed, simply destined to become girls...

She paused, taped the diaper closed and smiled. 

...if they were smart that is, she also mused as she patted the front of his diaper before lifting the sheet to cover him.

That was also the thoughts from the doctor brought in to consult on such things. She mentioned in her brief that she or one of her colleagues would most likely be performing a feminizing genitoplasty on this young man one day. As that doctor also noted, when she was told that the young woman she'd tested without knowing he was a young man. 

"This young man could easily go either way although, if I were asked to make a recommendation, I'd suggests doing so in a dress. A dress only because it would be less stressful and more easily adaptive for him," the doctor noted. 

Fortunately that wasn't said directly to John. 

CDC contacted two leading hospitals for consultation and John again agreed to further test. The fact that his body was changing was most of the reason and, why that was so, was still unknown. 

Although that doctor working for CDC and now in charge of this case believed it was somehow connected to that butterfly. She was looking at a fluff of skin taken from under John's arm at that moment.

"It doesn't look like skin or skin cells. Too dense and to hard!" She said to a colleague who was sharing that image. 

That colleague agreed and yet it was skin, human and that too was noticed as he adjusted the electron microscope feeding that image. There were five other doctors hovering near that image within half an hour of that comment and again Helen got a call from her old advisor.

Dr. Patter, Helen's advisor, was an expert on butterflies, but he deferred to Helen's knowledge on the Swallowtail and he, along with Helen, met those other doctors in a conference room at CDC. 

Helen referred back to her class notes as well as her field study notes to detail as much as was possible on what she knew about John's discovery.

A forensic pathologist and an expert on insect bites, was brought in to help identify, if possible, a physical contact with that Swallowtail. Helen helped when she noted a single minor passage that she had jotted down in her field book.

That was the notation she made when telling John to use a touch of an artificial female Swallowtail Pheromone. That pathologist, within ten minutes found a small almost invisible minor bump at the base of John's neck. A bump that hinted at something out of the ordinary and a biopsy was taken.

The pathologist found a sperm packet, called a spermatorphore, within John with remnants of Swallowtail sperm. Now that they knew what to look for, that Swallowtail had clearly passed on part of his altered genetic material, including a small amount of residual radiation. John's DNA was again being intensely viewed.

No one really knew what the evidence suggested but the "hints" of it were clear enough. A mutated Swallowtail had an encounter with John that day and somehow John, with new DNA coding, as impossible as that sounded, was now mutating in similar ways as a butterfly might. 

When that mutation was firmly established John was classified "risk unknown" which is actually the highest risk classification for the government. That risk classification triggered other actions immediately. John's medical files at school were instantly taken under a secret judicial writ and that information was merged with the material already on file at CDC. 

A chronology of symptoms and changes were roughed out in that conference room and John's metamorphism outlined. There was very little scientific information on John's transition, but there were enough doctors with enough disciplines to provide the path John was on from what was already known. 

With the exception of how John might feel about such things he was, without anyone doubting it, becoming more girl than boy. It was also clear that trying to counter what was happening might not be medically sound or even feasible since it wasn't clear yet how those chemical mechanisms were actually working. 

Problem was, as one doctor noted, changes were happening at the cellular level and everything that was happening was under instructions from John's own body. The consensus was leave John to become whatever it was he was becoming and in the meantime, keep that information and him quiet. 

Ironically that meeting was in parallel to another just a few miles away in another building. That second meeting was being held at and by the Atomic Energy Regulatory Commission and while John's condition was of equal concern, almost, that wasn't their focus. 

John was, at the very least, a publicity risk and very negative at best, and the issues were obvious if John-Q-Public came to believe that exposure to nuclear material might somehow turn men into women. There was no doubt that even a rumor of such a thing would put most men into a panic and kill whatever hope they had for atomic energy in the future.

Might not scare women all that much, someone noted with a chuckle, but the men in that room shuddered at the prospects, however ridiculous that might seem. What to do with John and the information surrounding him kept that meeting going till well into the next day. 

The National Securities Act was finally cited, after an attorney for the justice department was called in. That attorney cited half a dozen passages within that Act that could be useful to their cause before the meeting broke up. 

There was precedence for what was about to happen to John and what was about to happen was that John was going to be sequestered under legal authority as a potential national securities risk. Under that definition, they didn't need a writ of habeas corpus. 

What kept those men in black suits at bay was simply John's good fortune that Dr. Prox and Helen were with John when they stepped into John's hospital room. The risk of public disclosure or exposure to what had happened to John was the only reason John was now under guard just hours after his warrant was issued and in protective custody. 

There was another meeting held at the AERC with NSC attending. 

Under the United States Secrecy Act, information pretraining to this case and disclosure of any information, now sequestered, once it was classified and it was now, would make it a federal offense were it disclosed. That meant that anyone doing so, did so at risk of federal indictment and prosecution. 

That was at least one side of the conversation and while potentially threatening to most average people, Helen wasn't average. Helen cited her own notice of "intervention" as her own lawyer called it. She too had talked to an attorney with the ACLU.

Helen was a woman with balls one of the NSC agents noted with a snicker. This came after Helen gave them her own warning. There were forty seven packages of information on John, and what he was going through, sitting at forty seven separate locations. Most of those locations news agencies with "all" of the information.

Information, Helen noted, pulled together before it was or had been classified. Helen also noted that she had not been bound by that United States Secrecy Act when she mailed those out. Five of which, she also noted, were now outside of the U.S. and even it's formidable control.

There were also twelve people that Helen knew, she noted as well, who would call for the release of that information. That is if she or John did not physically appear to those same people within twenty four hours of this meeting. John was not about to be taken away to simply disappear, Helen warned. 

It could be said within a few minutes of that conversation, that there was an impasse formed as both sides finished their posturing. Remarkably, it was Helen again that proposed a shift of balance, and to the surprise of those in the dark suits, that shift would be in the governments favor. 

A slow calming fell over the room as Helen paused before talking again.

"Why not allow him simply to become the girl that he is becoming," She said in a matter of fact tone as she added, "that is clearly where this is heading."

It wasn't clear who spoke first urging her on, but it was clear that Helen now had their attention and enough time from that statement to note the rest. Helen had thought long and hard on this as she formed the words in her head first.

A transistioning transsexual, Helen noted, has a process clearly defined for how he or rather she, John, will ultimately emerge. That process covers both the physical, mental as well as the legal aspects of a transition and Helen noted that she would help handle John's awareness of this.

Moreover, once the government was satisfied, they could, under the United States Marshall's Service, provide both her and John the necessary identification changes to allow them out of this known and possibly hostile environment. Perhaps into another less known and obviously less hostile. 

Helen was, of course, talking about the witness protection program or at least part of it. There were murmurs, nods and finally a consensus. A representative of the U.S. Marshall's Office was brought in and another meeting was held. 

John, fortunately was recovering from his bout with an unknown flu type or so he was told by the CDC doctor. The guard, she noted, was simply to ensure there was no physical contact with anyone else till they were sure he was past infecting anyone else. They feared, she said, a possible pandemic.

Meanwhile, that Marshall they called in was both giving and taking information. The Witness Security Program was created by the Organized Crime Control Act of 1970. It's original purpose meant for the protection of witnesses by way of relocation and new identification. 

Fortunately, from the legal aspects it was already being administered by the United States Marshals Service as a division of the U.S. Department of Justice. It would be up to the United States Attorney General to make that final determination on behalf of John, but that was simply a technicality since it was the NSA that would be asking.

The real problem wasn't so much placing John and Helen under that protection act, but what to do with John when he was entered. He was male, going on female so the obvious choice would be to change his identity to female. Helen, of course, pushed for that as well. 

Helen, as she sat there talking and listening, also realized with a startled awareness that she was in love. No one noticed that smile or if they did it's connection, but Helen felt the warmth spreading from inside as John's case and a solution was being mapped out.

Under the Marshals Service, John and his intended legal guardian, now Helen, would be relocated to a new city in a new state. The Marshal promised to bring back a list of those cities for Helen to review. It would be a small list because she wanted a college that included Lepidopterists in it's curriculum. 

It was fortuitous as well that John's metamorphism would assist in this deception and, ironically, Helen's background would only add to it. Helen was orphaned at the age of seventeen when her parents were killed. There was no other family. Changing her history, slightly, and adding a sister would be easy. 

The Marshal, attending, suggested she have a step sister ten years her junior and that would require changing only several databases. That would also put John, as Helen's step sister, at the tender age of seven when their parents died. 

That would make John legally fourteen now to Helen's twenty five. Helen, would have a sister, but Helen wasn't thinking sister as she imagined John laying next to her in a new bed somewhere happily in a new home.

John would get a new name, identity and a solid history with enough authentic documentation to include a new Social Security card. Helen's identity would not need to change and her academic credentials would remain intact. 

Housing and medical care, job training and employment would also be included if needed. There would be two levels or phases of funding with the first supporting John's transition and the second in support of their relocation till he and she were once again self-sufficient. 

Unlike a true witness under the protection program, John would not have to break contact with his mother. His father, Helen mused, might be a different story. Helen knew that John's father was homophobic to a fault and already believed John gay. John's mother simply didn't care one way or the other.

Helen was wondering, to herself, what might happen were John simply to confirm his father's suspicions. It wasn't without a precedence she mused, since John was, in fact, more like a transsexual now. That would definitely have to be part of the discussions with John, she decided.

John was reaching the third day and his forth diaper of that day when Helen joined him wearing a surgical mask. John was still led to believe he was contagious, and while being diapered unnerved him, the fact that they were soiled at each change made it clear they were a necessary evil. 

Helen also now knew John was wearing diapers and why, having calculated, with the CDC doctor's help, that John would have his 'period' for another two days at least.

"You don't need that mask," John said smiling. A mischievous smile Helen realized and with that realization she took a second to remove it.




Butterflies



A romantic morning in the butterfly conservatory.

* * * * *

Click Here to listen. (37 min/mp3)

* * * * *



Butterflies and Hurricanes



I had always heard, before I found this escape, that there is a fine line between pleasure and pain. Physically yes, but it is mentally too. I enjoy pain immensely it is my drug, and he delivers it to me. Days like today are not the same. This is where the emotional line between pleasure and pain tests its strength. I was instructed to awaken him daily at a specific time with my mouth around his cock. My Dom, my Sir, instructed me to awaken him before his alarm went off. Sadly today is not the first, but the third day I have not completed the task at hand correctly.

I have not been keeping my head straight lately, my mind all over the place. I have no excuse as to why. I have my mouth around his shaft, and I am thrusting my mouth up and down. He hasn't even moved. The alarm sounds and I can add another failed attempt to my list. This is why he gets so upset. Ha! Upset is not the word used to describe the black in his eyes this morning. The dark chocolate is gone. Midnight black and lowered brows greet me. 

I disconnect my mouth from him, and lean back into my kneeling position, on my haunches. I lower my head; I can't look at him when he is so angry.

"You might as well try to finish now. Since you can't wake me up on time, maybe you can make me come." He rasps.

I am moving immediately. I hug his cock with my lips and begin my movements again. I twirl my tongue around his tip, and take him into my mouth further and further until his head finds its home at the back of my throat. Each time I retract from him, I swivel my tongue along his hardening cock, sucking hard. He moans once and his fingers lace into my hair. 

Tightening his grip, I can feel his disappointment bleeding into every hair follicle, taking over my scalp, and consuming my skin. My mind races again. Why couldn't I deliver this to him all those other days? Before I know it, he is moving my head and my flirtatious tongue has taken her vacation. I don't have time to fix it this time. I am pulled from him, and tossed aside. 

"I am sorry Sir." I whisper, wiping my mouth.

"Oh, you will be girl. What good is a slave who can't even do as she is told?" 

"Please! Let me try again, Sir! I swear I will do it right this time!" I cry to him.

He simply shakes his head as his face falls into a disappointed frown. "I have given you two chances today, and three days to get it right. Get off my bed."

I scurry quickly and am on the floor in seconds. My stomach is doing continuous summersaults. What would he do to me now? He is usually very gracious, but if I have been given five chances for one task, how much more gracious can one be? I fucked up and I knew I would have to pay the price, I just didn't know what the price would be.

I hear him on the bed, finishing what I should have done. But no, I am here on the floor awaiting his command. Disappointment takes over in tidal waves throughout me, a tsunami of it. I final grunt comes from beneath the sheets, and to my further disappointment, my pussy wets. I could have had release this morning as well. Not anymore. 

"Go to the kitchen." He commands. 

I go to lift my right knee to place my foot flat on the ground, so that I can rise to a standing position. 

"I never said you could walk."

I close my eyes. My stomach drops, and I fall forward onto my hands. Rotating my body around to face the door, I crawl to the door. I feel so low, emotionally, physically, yet in a sick sort of way, I am still excited to see how severe my punishment will be. Until I reach the kitchen. I gasp when I see it. Did he know I would fuck up today? Or was it only a precaution? Waiting for me with the door open, inviting me in, was a black dog cage, three foot tall, four foot long. I remember wanted to explore caging and confinement. Right now though, with black eyes in the bedroom, I was afraid to know what would happen when he had me in one place, unable to run, hide, or plead my way out of it. 

His footsteps come up behind me, and an unfriendly slap comes across my ass. 

"What are you waiting for? Get in." He says.

My body begins to shake. This is it. I have to do this. I deserve it. I fucked up. I crawl to it, and place one hand into the opening. 

"I want you on your hands and knees, until I tell you to relax. Your head is to be up and looking out the back of the cage and your mouth against it. Your cunt and asshole are to be on display for me."

My face is wet from silent tears, I nod, afraid to make a sound. I might cry out.

"I gave you a command." He prompts.

"Yes Sir." I whisper. Thankfully it is enough. He doesn't say anything as I take my position on the blanket. 

It is fleece, and itchy. The fibers dig into my soft flesh, but I dare not move. He has his punishments down to a science; from the emotional factor to the physical aspect of it. The door closes behind me, and he slides the latch home. His fingers caress my folds, sending a wanton moan from my depths. His throaty laugh sounds behind me as his fingers quickly disappear. 

I focus all my energy on staying still as he walks around the cage. He wants me on my hands and knees until I am told I can relax, but he hasn't said anything. So I close my eyes and mentally motivate my ass to stay in the air, and my lips against the metal bars. All of a sudden I feel his tip run a line against the seam of my closed lips of my mouth. My eyes fly open, as I look up to his face through the grates, I see his dark eyes and smirk. 

"Open." He demands.

I do. I open my mouth wide, and he takes his cock in his hands. He doesn't move for a moment, until urine begins to run from his opening and meeting with my tongue. Instantly I begin gagging and coughing at the unwelcome liquid meeting with my taste buds, and my mouth closes on its own accord. 

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. You are a perfect urinal." He says under his breath. 

I begin to cough out cries now. I did not expect him to use me as his bathroom. I feel so low, lower than I did when I crawled across the house. His stream travels up my face, coating my eyes, and into my hair; the hot extract of his body showering me, soaking me.

Don't say anything, do as he asks, maybe it will be over soon...

Once he finishes, I look up to him, dripping in his piss. I don't hide my anger now. I won't say anything, but I have never been able to wear my feelings anywhere but my sleeves. 

"Awe. My little bitch is angry. Maybe she will be determined enough to give me what I want now. What do you think?" 

He squats down in front of me, smiling at his work. I avert my eyes from him and try not to let him see my vulnerability. 

"Look at me."

I do. But I cannot hold his gaze. I begin to sob as his eyes rove my naked body. Once his inspection is complete, he stands, and my mouth opens to gulp in much needed air, only to be filled with his length. He doesn't work his way in. He shoves into me, jabbing my throat with his head. Before I have time to retract, his fingers lace into my hair again, and he holds me in place. My face is no longer resting lightly on the metal, it is pancaked against, and protruding through the openings of the cage as he uses my face as his fuckhole. 

I close my eyes, and I know he notices, he sees everything I do, but he doesn't say anything. I find that dark place in my mind and hide there as he continues his movements. I seclude myself there so deep that I barely feel him fucking my face. I don't know how much time passes before my mouth fills with his seed, but when it does; it is only natural for me to swallow. When he pulls out of me, I look back into his eyes, hoping for forgiveness. A whisper of a smile plays on his lips as his head tilts. He is contemplating, and my heart skips a beat as my stomach drops farther. He is nowhere near done with me in my confinement.

"Do you want release?" He asks.

Surprised, I perk up, "Yes, Sir! Please!"

He disappears for a few moments. When he returns he carries a vibrator. Opening the door to the cage, he inserts it into my entrance and closes to door again. 

"You do not come until I allow you to." He says as he walks away, pressing a trigger in his pocket beginning another bout of torture to my insides.