TO B.E., OR NOT TO B.E. or IT'S A B.E.AUTIFUL LIFE By Gunslinger A cold wind whistled through the skeletal branches of the trees, creating a certain sound. One that was hard to define, but was without a doubt a late October sound. Not an Early October, nor an Early November sound--it was mysterious and dark, and lost its power the moment Halloween ended. Yet, now, the sound still held all its the chilling power. As for Carrie Whycott, she didn't even hear it. The soft, soothing strains of Pachabel's "Cannon in D" filled the interior of her BMW. She wound her way through the hills, now denuded of the bright colors that had graced the trees mere weeks ago. Bare trees showed briefly in her headlights, their skeletal forms seeming to jump out at her before vanishing once more in the dark. Carrie ignored the trees and their cold, austere look as she focused on the road. It wasn't easy--tears obscured her view, turning the world into a haze. Once more, she'd been rejected. This time, it was a date for the Halloween party at the office tonight. Of the three guys she'd asked, all had rejected her. She was successful, one of the thriving company's original partners. She was fairly attractive with long, sandy blonde hair framing a face that was well formed, even if it fell short of true beauty. No. The reason she was rejected--why she was ALWAYS rejected--was the fact that her chest was flatter than a 12-year-old boy's. Her nipples, almost non-existent themselves, didn't crown the slightest rise of flesh on her chest. Mother Nature had simply refused to endow her with the slightest hint of breasts. So it was, her vision obscured by the tears from three decades of repressed feelings, that she missed a curve. She had a bare second's warning, before the car was airborne, as if it actually intended to fly, like some misbegotten bird. Then the expensive car returned to earth, its wheels dug twin furrows in the ground directly toward a majestic old oak. The Beamer fetched up against it with an almost musical ting of glass and metal. Carrie, unprepared, found her body snapping forward from the impact, her chest hitting the steering wheel and her head whipped forward into the cracked but intact windshield...then everything faded to a deep, impenetrable black. * * * * * Carrie found herself floating. Felt an odd sensation of disconnection from reality. Looking down, she saw her 1988 Bavarian Motor Werks 360SL laying beside the road, its front end crumpled against a massive, ancient oak. The front windshield was a mass of cracks, and stained in an eerie, red blossom. Then the scene faded, coalesced into pastel clouds that filled her vision from every side. That was when she became aware of another presence, and she...moved, somehow. It was turning, without any solid object to move on, or push off. Yet her viewpoint changed to bring the other presence into view. What she saw took her breath away. It was her--and it wasn't. The other being was nude, and looked exactly the same as Carrie, but without the fine wrinkles that life had left. What's more, her breasts were firm, full globes, easily DDDs. The bountiful breasts that Carrie had dreamed of possessing ever since high school, when all the other girls had blossomed, and she had not. Sprouting from this other being's shoulders were a pair of wings, in all the pastel shades that existed; multi-colored glories that moved languorously. They were more aesthetic additions then functional, expendinging no effort to support the idealized version of Carrie that smiled so beatifically at her. "Are you an angel?" Carrie asked, stunned. "Yes, I am--and so are you," the other being answered in Carrie's voice. Stunned, Carrie looked down, shocked and overjoyed to find an identical pair of bountiful breasts thrusting proudly from her own chest, and identical wings protruding from her own shoulders. Then a thought struck her. "Am I dead?" The other being nodded, "Yes. My name is Angela. I am your guide, for now. I have taken the same form as you, to help the transition go more smoothly." Carrie smiled wistfully, "You're...I mean, I'm....We're gorgeous. I never thought I'd have to die to get the body I always wanted." Angela seemed to shrug without shrugging, "It matters not. This is not your final form. Angels have no gender--as time passes, your gender, and mine, will fade until we are like the other angels, perfect neuters, with none of the confusion and disadvantages of gender." Carrie was shocked, "What? What about the advantages?" Angela seemed amused, "Advantages? What would they be? You longed your whole life for these breasts--yet what good are they?" Carrie snorted, "Obviously, you haven't been with a man for a while." The angel seemed tolerant, "I have no sexual urges. I have never had intimate contact. It is not just repugnant to me--it would be useless for a genderless creature." Regarding their matched pair of firm, round tits, Carrie replied, "You're not genderless now." Angela shrugged, "That doesn't matter." Again, Carrie somehow moved, drawing closer. Gently, she reached out and touched one of Angela's tits--and Angela's eyes went wide as new sensations flooded her body. "Oh!" She said, gently laying one hand on Carrie's new endowments. Carrie replied in like as wonderful sensations flooded her body as well. Gently, Carrie leaned forward, and pressed her lips against Angela's. Angela hesitated for an endless moment--then returned the kiss, with ever rising passion. Their arms embraced one another, hands going to each other's waist, then ass, as their perfect tits pushed firmly together- Suddenly, they were plummeting. "No!" Angela screamed. "What's happening?" Carrie cried, confused and frightened. "I was warned not to give into human emotions while in this form--yet I failed. We are Fallen!" Carrie heard the capital letter in the word, and it sent a shiver of dread up her spine. A bare instant later, the two identical women, now without their wings, impacted painlessly on a dusky red surface before a darkly handsome man in a well-tailored Armani suit. He smiled at them, "Well, new recruits! Fallen, and from the best of all emotions--lust. I much prefer it to anger or hate, you know." "Who...?" Carrie started, and was answered from two different sources. "The Prince of Lies," Angela hissed in loathing and fear, at the same instant the man bowed politely and said, "Lucifer, at your service." Then the man--Satan--smiled wickedly. "Or, should I say, you are at my service?" The two women began to change. Their skin darkened, taking on a dusky reddish hue while their hair became jet black. At the same time, two tiny horns sprouted from their foreheads and black leathery wings sprouted from their shoulders. And their breasts swelled in a few seconds, gaining weight and mass but remaining impossibly firm. They became huge, rounded mounds of flesh jutting from their dusky chests, and surmounted by large, black, engorged nipples. "What's going on?" Carrie cried, horrified. "You ladies have just joined my stable of succubae," Lucifer said smugly. "And I have some work for you to do." And with a wave of his hand, Carrie disappeared, and found herself--elsewhere. * * * * * She was in an office, a rather cheap one. What's more, she was in somebody else's body. She was a slender young secretary with a boyish figure and short black hair, dressed in a conservative business outfit, and gazing through nice but inexpensive frameless glasses. The door swung open, and a man stuck his head out. "Linda, get in here." He said, not unkindly but in a hurry. Carrie followed him in, her nylon-encased legs swishing under the tweed skirt. The door closed behind them, and she kissed him, unaware she was going to until she did. He pulled away, shocked. "What the? Linda, I'm a married man," He said, surprised. Then, obviously recalling the unbelievable kiss she'd just given him, added weakly, "Besides, you're not my type." "Oh? You prefer more...bosomy women?" Carrie/Linda found herself asking suggestively. The front of her blouse began to stretch as her breasts grew, pushing it outward. The man's eyes flew wide open as the material grew taut over her swelling bust. Buttons began to fly off as the pressure grew too great. Finally, the front of the blouse burst open as two massive huge tits hove into view. "Come on baby, let's fuck," Linda/Carrie said. She tore the man's clothes off and pushed him back onto his desk. She mounted his rapidly stiffened cock and began to fuck him. Meanwhile, her already immense tits continued to grow. Power flooded through her as they fucked, and he slowly condemned his soul. Carrie's still-expanding tits were now like two warm bean-bag chairs hanging from her chest, almost big enough to smother the man. Another few minutes, and just as he came, her growing tits would indeed kill him, claiming his soul for all eternity. Despite the incredible pleasure, Carrie couldn't do it. With a gasp and a tremendous force of will, she hauled herself off the man--and found herself back in hell, sitting beside the huge-breasted, demonized Angela. Lucifer glowered at them, "Pah--not good enough to be angels, not evil enough to be demons. You are just two horny, normal woman who are willing to fuck, but not kill. You're useless to me and Him." "What...what are you going to do with us?" Carrie quavered. Without answering, Lucifer waved one hand, and the world went dark. * * * * * Carrie climbed slowly through the blackness that surrounded her, trying to reach the light of consciousness. The first sense to return was hearing. A vehicle was idling close by. Also, there were the sounds of several people moving around close by. A voice reached her through the mist, "Well, it's a shame. An '88 BMW--a classic. Gonna cost a fortune to get it on the road again." An '88 BMW? That was her car. Was she in her car? Was the whole thing nothing more than a dream? Before she could ponder the question, a second voice spoke, "Yeah. Well, at least she was spared serious injury. Those...uh, airbags worked great. Same for the passenger." Airbags? The BMW didn't have airbags. And what passenger? Sight returned just as the first voice said, "I think she's coming around." She blinked, looking up at the concerned face of a handsome young EMS medic smiling down at her. She was indeed sitting in her car, the old oak showed through her cracked windscreen. "Miss? Don't worry. You banged your head, but you'll be okay. So will the other lady." Confused, Carrie turned her head--and gaped at the sight of Angela blinking back at her with a similar expression. Each woman was staring at the other's chest, where identical DDD-cup breasts pressed outward, straining against the identically tailored business suits they wore. Suddenly, "memories" that had never existed flooded into Carrie's mind. Growing up. Becoming extremely popular in high school as her breasts developed early and quickly. Dating in college. Joining the company and rising through the ranks as she worked through the available men in the company. Just like her twin sister, Angela. Turning to the young EMS, Carrie smiled. "Thanks for your concern, but you're right. I feel fine. By the way, are you doing anything this weekend?" The EMS medic blinked, then smiled back. It was the first time he'd ever been hit on by an accident victim, but hey, he could live with it. After all, she had the body of an angel, full, yet innocent. And the wickedly sexy smile of a demon, full of promise and skill.