The Last Shapeshifter Ch. 02

"She'd convince you? How weak are you dad?"

"You don't understand son. Imagine if the person of your dreams were standing in front of you, looking the way you've fantasized about, and saying all the things you want to hear. Then try saying no to that. It's the hardest thing you can do, and I did it on more than one occasion, but she said that eventually she'd have to cheat on me unless I relented. It pained her to say that, and I believed her, so..."

For the first time in the conversation, Trevor found himself getting a little emotional. "So, you're telling me I might get pregnant if..."

"We're not going to let that happen. Your mom said she didn't have the urge to procreate until she had sex for the first time after the curse manifested. You haven't had sex today, have you?"

Trevor almost gagged as he gave his answer. "Does oral count?"

"I mean, usually, yeah, but in this case, no."

Trevor felt like throwing up again. "What the hell Dad! I might have gotten someone pregnant or gotten pregnant today. Why didn't you warn me about that sooner?"

Steve took a long drink. "Would you have believed any of this yesterday?"

"No, but, well you should have..."

"Locked you in your room until it started. Don't think I didn't consider it. But I wanted you to have a normal life for as long as you could. Unfortunately now it's all got to change."

"How? I'll just be careful and..."

"That's not going to cut it Trevor. Now that it has started, your mother said it will get worse, way worse before it gets better. The first thing we do is isolate you. There's a cabin your mother and I purchased just for this reason. When we travel, you can wear gloves and long sleeves to avoid skin contact. That's something your mother did when I first met her. She-"

"Wait, wait, wait, I'm not going to some cabin in the middle of nowhere!" Trevor shouted.

"Yes you are! Haven't you heard a word I've said? You need to be protected!" Steve yelled back.

Father and son began to breathe heavily as their tempers flared and a circular argument began. Steve wanted to keep his son safe. Trevor wanted his life to resume despite the impossible new challenges he might face. The school that he had been so desperate to escape, along with the only two real friends he had in the world, was all he cared about now.

"I'm not leaving," Trevor finally said resolutely.

"You might be eighteen, but I'll drag you from here by force if that's what it takes. You're in over your head right now and don't know it yet. Your mom always said it was the worst in the beginning. Most of the stuff she regretted happened in the first few years. We just hole up for a decade. It won't be that bad. You'll still have centuries to-"

"No," Trevor sneered. "Isolated from everyone. That's a fate worse than death."

"Spoken like an overdramatic teenager. But for all you know, Trevor, there could be something worse. There are people out there, Trevor. People that present a real threat to you."Eventually you'll be able to sense them and we can avoid that danger as well."

"Wait, how can we afford to just leave and hide like you're talking about?. We don't have enough money to-"

Steve cut off the objection. "We do. Your mother built up quite a nest egg over the centuries, and I have access to it all, and one day, it'll be yours. But first we have to leave. First thing tomorrow, I'll go to the bank, get your mom's journal, and make the necessary arrangements for the house. You stay home, no one comes over, and when I come back, we pack up anything we can stuff in the car."

"You act like we're wanted by the mob or something."

"Great, yeah, pretend that. Look, I'm sorry okay. I didn't want this either. But it's here now, and we're going to be smart about it."

Trevor wanted to argue, but as he watched his father pour yet another glass, he knew it would be pointless. He went to his room, and his first impulse was to sulk. He was good at that. He had done a lot of brooding and sulking over the last year. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that's all he'd be able to do in the coming years, unless he did something about it. Trevor was not a reckless person, but at the moment he felt on the verge of becoming an animal caught in a trap, and he'd be damned if he didn't try to stop that from happening. He began to formulate a plan, and practiced shapeshifting in the mirror. Just by picturing someone in his head, he could become them. He could change their clothes, could alter their bodies if he wanted, it was getting easier and easier.

Trevor remembered what his father had said about recent contact as he shifted into Max. He had made way more physical contact with him than he ever wanted. At first, he felt like himself wearing his friend's skin. But then a rush of memories filled his head. He remembered what it felt like to have Sabrina's lips on his dick. He remembered how wonderful it felt, and how it had been a wish he had had for so long to be intimate with her. He also felt guilty though, knowing that his best friend Trevor would be saddened by their sudden hook up and jealous at the same time. Max thought Trevor was a truly great guy who had been dealt a shitty hand. He wanted to be there for him this last year, and hopefully in the future, but that might not happen if he had a real relationship with Sabrina.

Trevor shifted back to himself quickly. He was glad Max felt bad, but that also made him feel terrible. Shapeshifting was apparently going to bring a cornucopia of feelings and emotions. It helped with his plan though, because he was going to have to trust someone, and it might as well be one of his best friends. He knew this was going against his dad's explicit warnings, but at present, he felt invincible. He'd sneak out of the house and stay at Max's. In the morning, he'd go to the bank himself, posing as his father, and get the journal. Then he'd lay low for a few days, showing his dad that he could handle everything and that it was going to be okay. Then he'd come back. What could go wrong? Lots probably, but he had learned a few things, and his mother's journal would teach him more. Everything would be fine.

The only wrinkle was having the proper documentation. Trevor knew that the bank would ask to see proof that he was actually Steve Burrtrick. Trevor now hoped his dad had kept drinking. His father was a relative lightweight, and the way he had been pounding down those glasses, he might be able to take advantage of the situation. Trevor hoped enough time had lapsed, as he crept quietly out of his room. He saw that luckily, his father's bedroom door was ajar. There was a soft snoring sound, which Trevor took as a good sign. His father was a heavy sleeper, and with the help of some booze, hopefully that would be amplified here. Trevor pushed the door open. The hinges creaked and Trevor tensed, but his dad's snoring didn't miss a beat.

His father was spread out on top of the bed, fully dressed. An empty glass was on the nightstand. Trevor went silently to his father's top dresser drawer, and rummaged around in the depths. He used the dim light from his cell phone to search, but did not find what he was looking for. He did come across a passport though. He opened it and saw that it was his father's. He really was ready to travel. This and one other form of identification might be enough if he couldn't find the key. He assumed he needed a key anyway. Maybe he just had to show up there. He briefly considered that this was all a bad idea, but he stubbornly forged ahead and braced himself for the hard part as he stood at the foot of his father's bed. He wished his dad had shrugged off his pants before falling to sleep. That would have made rifling through his pants' pockets much easier. As it was, he'd have to do it while his dad was still wearing them.

What made it worse, was that Trevor knew his father kept his wallet in the front left pocket instead of the back. His father was flat on his stomach, and Trevor slowly reached into his father's front pocket. As he did, his father laughed and Trevor quickly withdrew. He stayed there in complete silence for a minute, and then he heard his dad mumble something unintelligible in his sleep. His dad was dreaming. His hand went back to work. As he fumbled to grab it and pull it out, he wondered what his dad was dreaming about. As he finally extracted the wallet, he realized he could know, or at least thought he could. His dad had told him that a direct touch would give Trevor the ability to shapeshift into his father, and obtain his memories. It was all too easy. He gently and carefully touched the back of his father's hand with the tip of his finger.

Too late Trevor realized his mistake, as even in the dimly lit room he saw his finger ripple and begin to change. He was momentarily transfixed as the digit itself began to shrink but the nail began to lengthen. With mounting horror, Trevor thought he knew what his father was dreaming about. He felt his body begin to follow suit as the involuntarily transformation took hold. He willed himself to move, and retreated quietly back to his room as quickly as he dared.. Back in the safety of his four walls, he shut the door and dropped the purloined items onto the floor. Then he looked at his changed body in the mirror. The face that looked back received the entirety of his attention. It was his mother's face. More to the point, it was his mother when she had still looked healthy, and a lot younger too. She was very, very pretty. Her blonde hair fell to her shoulders, and finally Trevor saw the rest of his new form. He was seeing his mother completely naked. He tried to shift clothes onto himself, but his mind received a jolt. Everything seemed to blur for an instant, then a new powerful urge hit him. Right before he passed out, he whispered one word. "No."

The woman blinked her eyes open. She was on the floor for some reason. Instead of wondering why, she got deftly to her feet and assessed herself in the conveniently placed mirror. She felt good. She felt alive. For some reason, that knowledge seemed wrong, or at the very least, incorrect, but it didn't matter. She had a singular purpose right now, and it began with her appearance. She closely examined her naked flesh. Not only did she feel good, she looked good. Her breasts looked large but firm, another thing that seemed off, but she didn't question it. She glanced at the door that led back to her husband's room. How did she know where her husband was? It didn't matter. He was in there, dreaming about her, specifically about fucking her. It had been so long for him. She should go in there and give him what he wanted. A finger went to her slit, and she felt how wet she was. It would be so easy to let her husband slide into her, to let him shoot his load into her. He had had a hard year. He deserved a good lay.

As if on autopilot, she opened the door and went into Steve's room. She stared at him as one of her fingers teased her clit. She didn't know why she was hesitating. This was her husband. He wanted her, and she wanted him. But that nagging feeling, like something terrible was about to happen, persisted. As she thought about it though, the feeling of wrongness made it hotter, and she felt herself grow wetter. She touched his arm to rouse him, but he lay there in a drunken stupor. She shook him harder, but he continued to snore. She reached underneath him and unbuttoned his pants, noting the bulge there as she did. He was having a very good dream indeed. With a little effort, she got his pants off, and then rolled her husband over. He was still so handsome after all these years. She put her knees on either side of her sleeping husband and brought her pussy down to rub against his erection. She lubricated it with her juices, thoroughly enjoying the feel of his hot, hard flesh against her quivering g spot.

Steve moaned a little, which she took as a sign of encouragement. She knew what he wanted. She let up on his dick, causing it to spring up, then she carefully let it penetrate her. It felt so good. She felt so full. She looked down at him, still somehow asleep, and knew she would have to do all the work. That was alright though. He needed this. She had been away for some reason, a reason that seemed important, but not as important as beginning to writhe on top of him. She rolled her hips and gyrated, getting lost in all the feelings. They seemed new and familiar all at the same time, like remembering how to do something you had never done before. That fact was odd, and she almost latched onto it, but again, it was more important for her husband to cum, for him to ejaculate inside of her, to hopefully become pregnant again.

As she worked his dick, her hands went to her breasts. As she groped herself, she noticed her boobs seemed more youthful, as if gravity had not yet claimed a hold on them. She let one hand briefly go to her face and let a wet finger find purchase in her mouth. She sucked at it, tasting herself. The pleasure of it all was too intense, and she sped up her movements atop her husband.

As her hips began rocking more fervently, the bed itself began shaking, and at last, Steve groggily came to. He knew he was dreaming, because it was all too perfect, and everything was blurry. His alcohol fueled slumber had caused him to pass out and now he was dreaming about making love to his dead wife, and it felt amazing. It felt really amazing actually. He squinted, trying to ascertain more detail than his mind could fathom. He lifted a hand and touched her arm. She smiled at him, then leaned down and kissed him deeply.

Steve returned the kiss with equal passion, but something wasn't right. She broke the kiss and began riding him harder, speeding him along towards climax. Steve's eyes grew wider as adrenaline shot into his system, providing brief clarity in his inebriated state. Even in the dim light, he saw that his wife looked younger, as she had when he had met her, long before she had gotten sick and the cancer had ravaged her beauty. This was her without any of those flaws, and that was impossible. But why? Like a curtain slowly being pulled back to reveal a painting, everything became painfully, excruciatingly, clear. His wife was dead, and this wasn't her. Trevor must have touched him while he was dreaming about his wife, and had turned into her and was now...

Steve's hands pushed out as he felt his dick begin to surge. His palms rammed forcefully into his wife's chest, pushing her off of him. She fell back painfully onto the floor, and a second later, jizz erupted onto her. She winced at the fall, then looked horrified at all the wasted sperm she was now wearing. Sperm that could have gone into her. But there would be more. Buy why had he pushed her off? She looked at him puzzled and was about to protest when he yelled at her.

"Trevor!" Steve shouted. "Trevor, snap out of it. You're not her. You're not your mother!"

She didn't understand why he was shouting such absurd things? And then reality came crashing down.

Trevor jolted to his feet and looked down. He saw his mother's boobs, and looked back at his father's dimly lit face. He had fucked his father in the guise of his mother. He hadn't been in control, but it didn't matter. He semi consciously willed himself to shift back to his own self, then the panic fully set in. He couldn't be here. He couldn't look at his father, probably not ever again. He had to get away. He ran to his room and heard his father yelling after him. He had precious few seconds, and he used them to grab the wallet that he had dropped to the floor, his phone, and his father's passport. As he hurried from his room, he shifted into clothes he usually wore. As he grabbed the keys to his car, he heard his father's footsteps close behind. He ran out the front door and slid into the driver's seat. As he turned the key and the engine came to life, his father burst out the door. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and had only managed to put his pants back on. He was yelling. He was pleading for Trevor to come back. He was telling him it wasn't his fault. Trevor faltered behind the wheel, wondering if that were possible.

The worst part was that he could remember it all. He remembered feeling like he was his own mother. He could perfectly recall the overwhelming urge to get his father off. These memories were a voice of reason in Trevor's head that argued maybe his father had been right. They needed to get away. Trevor should be cut off from the world and isolated before he did anything he might regret. But he already had. With that knowledge, Trevor's face hardened and the voice grew silent. Right now he just needed to be anywhere else. His foot hit the gas.

To be continued...