Just a little shortie suggested by Ellie in her challenge to write about the Zen Stone
Zen Stone Conditions:
The Zen Stone was created by a martial arts master over 500 years ago to test the worthiness of his students. The night before he is to begin his advanced training, a student had to sleep with the stone, a piece of quartz, half white quartz, half smoky black, that has formed into the curved "Yin/Yang" symbol. Refusal meant immediate dismissal from the Master's school.
The student would dream of his life as a woman. For each, it is a different sort of woman. The woman is dreaming that she is the student of the martial arts master. If the student awakens first, he is worthy and has past the test.
If the woman awakens first, then the student's life as a man was the dream. The woman continues her life, and the memory of having been the student fades to a half remembered dream. No one from the student's life remembers him for he did not exist. he was only the dream of a woman living somewhere near the school. Even the Master remembers him more as a dream.
In this way, both the Master and the student are spared the pain of the student having been found unworthy.
The stone was lost after the Master's death.
Just after World War II, a member of the joint British/Canadian/U.S. occupying forces brought back the stone, which he thought was just an odd curio, to his home town.
He was unworthy.
But after transforming him, the stone lacked the magic somehow, even though it had changed reality, to transport itself back to Japan.
Because the stone exists to test people, its magic makes it move on after a successful test. The owner (the testee) loses interest in it and returns it to the shop where it was purchased. No one will ever suspect that the stone has magical powers of any sort. If the stone is bought by a woman, it will test the first male to sleep within 20 feet (6 meters) of its location. If it has not been able to test a male within a week, it will compel the woman to either give the stone to a male or to return it to the store.
The stone will only transform males between the ages of 15 and 45. Others are too old or too young. There is no limit to what sort of woman the person will dream for his new life, except that she will be within those age limits and, beyond that, be no more than 7 years younger or older. (A 25 year old man can become a woman between the ages of 18 and 32, but a 17 year old boy can only change to a woman between the ages of 15 and 24.) The woman can be of any race or ethnicity, have any appearance, be living any sort of life. Just so long as it's within 5 miles (8 kilometers) of where the person was living before the test.
The story can be set in any of the three countries, so as many of the writers as want can use it. (If somebody's from still another country, go ahead and set your story there; just say so at the beginning.) Ellie
Now, on with the story (Thanks to Steve Zink for the edit)
Reynard arrived home after another night on the prowl; pickings were good at the present. There were always plenty of young things around, pretty tasty, too. It was almost like the fresh food was being delivered to him. He licked his lips, finding a morsel stuck behind one tooth. He used a fine bone from one of his victims to pry it free, swallowing it with delight.
Soon the dawn light would be upon him; he must be under cover before that, or else, disaster! 'Hmm, what's this?' he wondered, as something at his feet caught his eye. A strange stone, half black, half white, just laying there on the ground near his door. Bending easily, he picked it up, then entered his home and decided to call it a night, or would that be call it a day, curling up on his bed and falling asleep almost immediately.
* * *
Theresa awoke with the light streaming through her window; what a glorious day it promised to be. She rose, casting her sheer white peignoir aside, stretching her lithe, well-endowed body as she went to the bathroom. After drying herself off from using both the toilet and the shower, she returned to the bedroom to dress for the day ahead.
She sorted through her underwear drawer for a matching set of bra and panties, choosing in the end her mauve la Bellezza set. Padding to the window, she started doing her daily exercises; she knew it annoyed the hell out of the neighbors across the road! He wanted to watch her; she berated her husband, and threatened him every time she caught him. Stretch UP, her firm breasts straining against the material of her bra, her nipples hardening as they rubbed their tender tips on the lace edging, bend DOWN, her pert bottom stretching the wispy material of the panties.
‘There, that she keep them occupied for a while,’ she thought to herself. Returning to the dresser, she took out a pair of tan satin tights, rolling up the legs, so she could place her toes into the feet of the tights easily. Sitting down on the dresser’s chair, she unrolled the tights up her silky smooth legs, standing as she brought them up past her knees, easing them around her crotch and bottom, smoothing the seam as she did so.
Opening the wardrobe doors, she took out her white blouse and short black miniskirt. The skirt was actually a couple of sizes too small for her, but boy oh boy, the men could not help but watch as she walked by. It seemed almost sprayed on; thank God for Lycra!
A pair of low heel sensible shoes completed her outfit, and a little later, having applied her makeup and brushed out her luxuriant hair, she was ready to face the day.
She picked up her mail and saw that there was nothing of interest in it, so opened the front door of her apartment and exited, locking it as she did so. Walking down the hallway to the elevator, her heels clicked sharply on the wooden flooring, her pert bottom rising and falling so sexily, so practiced, so alluringly, her silken clad thighs caressing one another as she walked to the elevator.
Holding it for her, as he always did, was Terry. He never had the nerve to ask Theresa for a date, hardly the nerve to talk to her, even saying, "Good morning," had his tongue tied in knots.
"Goodmorninnnnnnn," he mumbled, blushing as red as ever, dropping his eyes from her eyes to her bosom, then to the floor, as he always did.
"Hello, Terry," she all but sang to him, it was such a wonderful day.
"Gr...gr..." he stammered.
"Yes, Terry. Ground floor, please." She smiled at him, sending him redder than ever.
Terry pressed the Ground button and stood there, eyeing the floor, his eyes darting to her shoes, her legs and away again. Poor Terry, he never would have the nerve to talk to the girls.
The elevator rocked and stopped at the ground floor, the doors sliding open. Theresa felt it was such a beautiful day, perhaps she should take pity on Terry just this once, but if she did, would he become more of a lapdog nuisance, or might it give him the nerve to ask her out, did she want a date with him? 'Maybe not,' she thought. 'Sorry, Terry, today is not your day, after all.'
Theresa walked out of the elevator, short tight skirt hugging her softly undulating pert bottom as she flagged down her taxi cab. As it stopped, Terry caught up with her, as always, and opened the door for her.
"Such a gentleman, Terry, thank you," she cooed at him as she slid into the back of the taxi cab, her short skirt riding up slightly, giving Terry a tantalizing glimpse of her champagne panties as she moved across the back seat.
Terry blushed still redder and as usual, shut the door for her, then started looking for his own taxi. Theresa was about to direct the driver to her destination, when she paused.
"Hold on a minute, driver. Terry," she called, opening the door, "share my cab today, please."
Who was more surprised, Theresa or Terry, was hard to tell.
But, surprised or not, he got in, sitting as far away from Theresa as was possible in the confines of the cab.
The twosome gave their destinations to the driver. To their surprise, they both worked on the same street, Theresa in the bank across the street from Terry’s office.
"Well, err, Theresa, wha, what is it you...erm, do in...erm, the...erm, bank?" Terry stuttered.
"I’m a Customer Services Representative," Theresa said smugly. "What do you do at your office, Terry?" she continued.
"Oh, I design websites for corporations." Once Terry got his mind off Theresa and her legs, and on his work, he was able to talk coherently.
"That’s nice," she said. ‘Hmmm, sounds like he is as boring as my being a bank teller is,’ she thought.
The taxi arrived at their destination; Terry offered to pay the fare, and Theresa was quite happy to let him. She would take advantage of anyone if the opportunity arrived. They alighted, Terry paying the driver, Theresa, pulling her skirt down a little, smoothing her rear so as to remove any creases. Miss Learheart did so insist that her staff were smartly dressed at all times.
"Thank you, Terry," she said, as she walked away without looking back, knowing full well Terry would still be standing there, staring at her gently swaying posterior.
Poor Terry, he was!
He sighed as Theresa disappeared inside the bank, turned and crossed the road to her own office.
The day passed uneventfully. Theresa served many customers from her little cubicle; Terry designed yet another website. Finally, the pair made their separate ways home and had their meals alone as always.
Terry spent the evening working on his private website, the one which he couldn't tell anyone at work about, the one dealing with his Transgender fiction stories, and thinking about what he could say to Theresa the next day. How one day he WOULD pluck up the nerve to ask her out on a date, knowing full well he would never have the nerve to do so. Eventually, he went to bed and dreamt about Theresa, a wonderful wet, erotic dream where the two of them made love all night long. A dream where the two of them were happily married, and lived in a fine mansion upstate, and had so much money from his web designs and her modeling career...
Theresa, on the other hand, spent the evening making sure her clothes were clean and immaculate; Miss Learheart had warned her again about the condition of her blouse, it was slightly frayed. Also, her skirt, that was far too short. If she had to speak to Theresa again this week about her clothes, she would be fired.
She couldn't afford to buy the extra clothes, she spent every cent she got on fine underwear, disco evening wear and partying all weekend.
She eventually gave up trying to follow the plot of the film she was partly watching on the television, and went to bed. She carefully removed her skirt, hanging it up in the wardrobe. Her blouse went into the wash basket, as did her tights, bra and panties. She pulled her nightdress out of the drawer, shaking it out before pulling it over her head. The bodice hugged her curves, supporting her generous breasts for overnight, the semi-clear material of the skirt caressing her body below her breasts as it fell to just below her crotch.
Climbing into bed, she pulled the covers up to her neck, switched the bedside light out and as so often, cried herself to sleep at being on her own.
* * *
Reynard awoke feeling hungry, as usual. He rose, brushed himself down and set off to find his breakfast. As he left his home, he met his old friend Terry Fox, also on the prowl for food.
"Greetings, Terry, shall we hunt together tonight?" Reynard asked.
"Aye, let's. I know where we can find some ripe pickings. Did you sleep well, old friend?" Terry asked.
"Sort of, but I had this WEIRD dream last night! I was this ugly furless female. The only fur she, or I had, was on my head. As for where I was, it was so strange, there was no greenery, very few trees, and NO chickens anywhere!"
"Now that is weird, I had the same sort of dream myself last night, but I was this useless, furless hu-mon, and I also found no greenery or chickens. Must be the time of year!" Terry rejoined.
"Well, this isn't getting food on our tables, shall we go raid the farmer's chicken coop or put down to the King's Head for a jar of blood, first?"
"Oh, let's hit the King's Head first, it's on our way, after all!"
Reynard fingered the strange stone in his pocket; perhaps the landlord would stand him a drink in exchange for it...
So, the two foxes made their way into the inn, and soon had forgotten all about the weird dream they had shared.
But which pairing is reality, and which dream? Would Terry and Theresa wake in the morning, when Terry and Reynard slept, or...
The End.
