Transformations - Travelers Ch. 01

"Hmm?" Terri breathed. "Yes... yes, I'd like to do that..."

The woman smiled and nodded. She beckoned Terri inside.

Terri turned and reached for the door to the shop.

"Terri!" Monica yelled.

Terri jerked as if she had almost fallen asleep. "Wha... What? Jesus, yell in a girl's ear why don't you. I'm two feet away, Monica."

The redhead started giggling behind the glass. She had pulled out the dildo and tapped it against her lips as she laughed. She smiled at Monica and waved as she turned away.

A sex mural tattoo was painted across her back: Her portrait, a beautiful redhead with hypnotic green eyes, around her a sea of people with blank, hypnotized expressions. Her name was written in green cartoon letters on one side, Mind Fuck Marie.

Monica took Terri's hand and led her away from the store. "What the fuck was that, Terri?"

"What was what? Hooker had a good act - what, I can't watch now?"

"No, she had some kind of... control over you. She whispered to you from behind the glass and you started to go into the store."

"Bullshit," Terri laughed. "Bitch, you're trippin'."

"Terri, no joke. You like blanked out and started to, I don't know, go to her," Monica said. She was starting to get scared.

Terri frowned and shook her head. "I don't remember any of that. I was watching her plow her cooter, and then you were yelling at me."

Monica sighed. "Can we just get to our damned gate?"

Terri patted her hand. "Hey, Bitchosaurus, it's okay," she soothed. "I don't know what happened, but I'm fine now. I ain't gonna go all muff diver." She grinned up at Monica. "Unless, it's your muff, then I'm totally gonna dive in that little bitch."

Monica swatted Terri on the forehead. "You just had to make it weird, didn't you?"

Terri skipped ahead still holding Monica's hand. "Yeah, it's my thing."

They passed by a larger bar. Strippers were pole dancing in the back, wearing nothing but gold and silver paint.

A gold painted dancer grabbed hold of the bar and hung upside down in a split, all to howls of joy from a crowd of frat boys.

Terri pointed at the pole dancer. "I can totally do that!"

Monica rolled her eyes. Terri had taken a pole dancing class at Urbana semester before last. It was all the rage for fitness nowadays, and Terri had begged Monica to take the class with her.

Terri took a step toward the bar. Her eyes rolled back in her head. "Must. Pole. Dance. Must. Pole. Dance. I'm. Slut. Hypnotized. Slutotized."

Monica growled at her. "Very funny. I'm telling you though, you really scared me back there."

"Geez, Mom, I'm okay. Just chill out," Terri said as she turned away from the neon sex palace. "You know, you really need this sexcation. You have to learn to relax a little. This is like a big carnival - just laugh at the clowns and have fun."

"Clowns are scary," Monica said.

"True," Terri agreed. She looked at something behind Monica and burst out laughing. "Well, babe, if all else fails, you can always get a massage." She pointed over Monica's shoulder.

Monica turned and looked at the storefront. Happy Endings Massage. Another store lit in electric pink. One of the Amazons was massaging a man who lay on his back on a table. He was covered from the waist down by a white sheet.

This Amazon was wearing a dangerously tight latex mockery of a nurse's uniform, her big boobs threatening to rip through the rubber. She leaned over the man, massaging his chest.

Monica shook her head as the sheet over his waist began to tent up.

The Amazon giggled, which should have caused the tortured latex to pop like an overinflated balloon, but it held together. She reached a hand with manicured red nails under the sheet and began to jack him off in full view of the people passing by.

"They don't call it Happy Endings for nothin'," Terri giggled.

Monica closed her eyes and shook her head. "How could the city have agreed to give this part of the airport to Cuba? Where are the people protesting?"

Two boys about their age appeared beside them. One of them shook his head. "Money. That's how they did it. The Church has deep pockets, and the city wants their share. Anybody tries to protest, the cops will drag them off."

Monica eyed the tall, skinny boy suspiciously. "Don't come near us."

Terri pushed in front of her. "Excuse my overprotective friend. She's a little freaked out by all the pervy stuff."

The boy shrugged. "Hey, I completely understand. It's an experience. I'm David, this is my friend Paul - we're from UCLA."

The shorter boy nodded and then returned to looking at his shoes.

David jerked his thumb at Paul. "He gets tongue tied around girls."

"Dude, not cool," Paul grumbled.

Terri nodded. "Hey, it's cool. I'm Terri, this statue standing beside me is a marble likeness of my roommate, Monica. She's almost lifelike."

Monica just glared at her and then smiled at David. "Hi. We're from Urbana."

"So, first time in Cuba?" David asked.

"Yeah," Terri said. "How about you?"

"Naah, we go every Spring Break," he motioned toward Paul. "I'm trying to get him to come out of his shell."

"It's really weird down there," Paul grumbled.

"Yeah, but $500 first class round trip is a bargain, man," David said.

"$500?" Monica asked. "For both of you?"

David shook his head. "No, a piece. Still that's pretty good."

Terri and Monica stared at each other.

"Our tickets were like $25 a piece for first class," Terri said.

Paul rolled his eyes. "Yeah, no shit."

"Huh?" Monica asked.

David shook his head. "That's his socially challenged way of saying you're pretty - pretty girls get discounted airfare."

Monica stared wide eyed at Terri. "Oh, I am liking this less and less, Terri."

"Calm down," Terri said.

David waved his hands. "No, no, it's nothing bad. It's just Cuban tourism - they want to entice girls to come down to Havana, otherwise all they'll get are frat boys and old pervs."

One of the Amazons strolled by and David, to his credit, managed to keep his eyes mostly on Terri... mostly.

"I think they have plenty of women for the tourists," Monica said.

The tattoo on the woman's back showed a pinup version of the woman leaning back naked on a swing blowing a kiss. Perky Puckery Paula was written in blood red.

"Fembots," Paul whispered.

"What?" Monica asked.

"Fembots," Paul said louder without making eye contact. "Whatever they do to them, it turns them into creepy Stepford slut androids."

David laughed and shook his head. "Dude, you just totally mixed a Bionic Woman reference with The Stepford Wives - ignore him, he watches way too much classic TV."

Monica stepped closer to Paul. "You think they do something to them?"

Paul looked up, apparently startled by the tall blonde's interest. "Yeah... yeah. The more times we go down there, the more I'm convinced something really weird is going on. And, I don't think what's happening is voluntary."

David shook his head. "Paul! Knock it off, you're scaring the ladies."

Monica held up her hand and pointed at herself. "This lady is already scared. Paul, what makes you think they're doing this to girls against their will? We talked to these Christians out front..."

"That shit's all fake," David said. "Just the Catholic Church spreading misinformation." David looked at Terri and shrugged.

"It's not misinformation... well, maybe some of it is, but we saw some of it ourselves." Paul actually looked Monica in the eye. "Okay, so like last Spring Break, we were on the plane with this girl, Wendy. She was super nice..."

"Lot of acne," David added.

"Let me tell the fucking story, man," Paul said.

"Go for it."

"So, she's just this like plain girl, you know? Real sweet. Said she was going down to write a story about the new Cuba for the Berkeley campus paper - she was a journalism major," he said and leaned closer to Monica. "After we land in Havana, we didn't see her again."

"Which is a shame, because I thought brah here might actually get some action," David said.

"Dude!" Paul said. "Anyway, we finally see her again when we go to the airport for the return trip - only, she isn't inside the airport she's on the street..."

"Workin' it, if you get my meaning," David said.

"It's Wendy, only she's all fembotized. I mean, she was flat chested before and now she's like a quadruple F cup, and tall, man, like over six feet not even counting those freaky heels."

David nodded. "Yeah, and no more acne at all. Skin like a porcelain doll. She was smoking hot."

Paul stared daggers at him.

"What? She was hot..."

"Anyway," Paul said. "I walked up to her and said, 'Hey, Wendy, what happened to you?' And, she just giggles and says, 'They made me all pretty with big boobies' - like she said it with a cartoon voice, you know? And, then she like bent over and asked me if I wanted to... you know?"

Monica was stunned. "Did she have one of the tattoos?"

"She had them everywhere, but the big one? It was her all spread eagle and naked. Her name was Wide-Open, Willing Wendy."

"That's fucked up," Terri whispered.

"Tell me about it," Paul said. "They got to her, man, and they turned her into a bimbo."

"Okay, okay, hang on," David said. "Yeah, I mean, they really did some work on her, but I never saw anything to make me think they forced her. She was awfully damned happy out on the street, I mean like perky happy. And, she was sour as fuck on the plane. Maybe they just made her an offer, and she took it? I mean, shit, if I was a frumpy girl and somebody offered to turn me into a sex machine, I'd do it."

Paul and Monica stared at him in disbelief.

Terri shrugged. "Fuckin' A, I'd do it too."

Monica shook her head in disgust.

David grinned down at Terri. "Well, that'd be wasted on you because you're already a fox."

Terri smiled from ear to ear. "Flattery will get you everywhere."

A big TV monitor winked on in the ceiling above them. The Air Cuba logo, a red pentagram with a blue plane in the center appeared on the screen.

"What's this?" Monica asked.

"Tourism video. Plays once an hour," Paul whispered.

A nun appeared on the screen. She wore black and white robes but no head covering. Dark glasses hid her eyes. She smiled at the camera while standing in a brilliant white room surrounded by tropical flowers. "Hello, my name is Sister. I have the privilege to be the spiritual and political leader of the Theocratic Republic of Cuba, the first nation of the New Order, one nation under the god Morpheus."

"Morpheus is god!" People called out around the terminal, causing Monica to jump.

"Some of you are leaving Cuba, about to return to the United States. On behalf of all your friends here in Cuba, come back soon! For those of you on your way, maybe for the first time, to our emerald shores, welcome! A satisfying and sensual experience awaits you - for many of you, it will be life changing. Now, just a few rules for you to follow. Public nudity and sexual relations are encouraged. We believe in an open sexual society here without judgment. When you get on the plane, a flight attendant will give you a set of three jewels that will adhere to your forehead."

The image on the screen changed to show three sparkly costume jewelry stones: one red, one yellow, and one green.

"If you put the green jewel on your forehead, it means: I'm totally open to sexual activity. No need to ask, I'm ready to go any time, any place, with any partner."

Monica gasped. "Holy shit."

"A yellow jewel means: I might be open to playing with you, but ask me first," Sister said.

"A red jewel means: No! Don't even ask. Whichever jewel you choose to wear, just know your wishes will be honored and your decision respected," the image returned to show a closeup of Sister's face. She looked stern, but attractive. "We're very proud of the grand experiment we've created in this new Cuba, and we hope you will enjoy your stay."

The image faded back to the Air Cuba logo before the monitor clicked off.

Monica looked down at Terri who had a wicked grin on her face. "Red. You hear me? You put on red, Terri. I mean it."

Terri threw up her hands. "What? I wasn't going to put on green for fuck's sake." She bit her lower lip. "I think yellow would be okay, though..."

Monica just shook her head and sighed.

David smiled down at Terri. "Well, I'm putting on green. Green is a lot more fun."

Monica looked at Paul, who had returned to looking at his shoes. "What about you?"

He glanced up at David who was staring at him. Paul sighed. "Green."

***

Nancy and Eric

Nancy Davis sat at the gate and watched her husband, Eric, thumb through his legal briefs. His cellphone wasn't allowed but that hadn't stopped him from bringing his office with him.

The exciting world of corporate law, Nancy thought. When she had met Eric, she had thought being a lawyer's wife would be exciting. He had been Perry Mason or one of a dozen other stereotypical TV lawyers in Nancy's mind.

The reality had been far less than the fantasy.

He worked sixty hours a week - and that was when things were slow. The cellphone was a permanent accessory attached to his hand.

Somehow she had thought that not being able to carry it with him would have made him at least stop working for a few days. No such luck - at least not so far.

Cuba would be different. It had to be different. He couldn't contact the office and get more legal briefs to ponder - he would have to pay attention to her. She stared at him and wondered.

They had walked through a carnival of sex in the terminal to get to the gate, and if he paid any notice, he had been damned good at hiding it. Other than their playfulness at security, he had seemed oblivious. Nancy, on the other hand, was soaking wet. The raw, frank sexuality of the bars with their gyrating pole dancers and the sex shops with their constant parade of unashamed, brazen whores made her heart race. Not that she would have admitted that to her husband - she had canned answers in mind should he ask her opinion: disgusting, how can a woman dress like that in public, etc.

She didn't mind lying to him, being the good, sophisticated wife of breeding - the image she had built for his benefit. If he hadn't been with her, would she have gone in the sex shops? Would she have put on latex boots and miniskirts that made you look even more naked than if you weren't wearing them?

Of course. She'd had a taste of what those girls in the nosebleed heels and rubber received on a daily basis through her many lovers. She wasn't a towering nympho like the walking Barbie's in the terminal, but she wasn't bad for a lawyer's wife in her mid-thirties.

If she'd had children, men would have said she was a MILF - not quite a cougar yet.

This thought made her laugh. She had become increasingly giggly since downing two of the tall pink drinks from one of the bars. She felt warm inside.

Eric read quietly beside her. Boarding the plane couldn't come soon enough. Hopefully he wouldn't continue reading in his seat.

A pilot was staring at her. At least she thought he was the pilot. He was sitting in the middle of a harem of stewardess Barbies. He had an amused expression on his face. His uniform fit tight, showing off broad shoulders that narrowed down to a tight waist.

His eyes were so dark they looked black.

Nancy looked away then glanced back in his direction.

He was staring.

She was sitting with her red skirt pulled down tight over her black lacy thigh highs. Nancy had her legs crossed, and the handsome pilot was staring her up and down from her red high heels, up her stocking clad legs.

He paused at her hem line, turning his head as if he was trying to see under it. He let his eyes wander up, stopping at her cleavage which was prominently displayed by the low cut neckline.

She reached up and fingered her pearls with her ruby red nails.

The pilot's eyes locked on hers. He smiled.

Nancy swallowed and smiled back.

His eyes traveled back down her body, settling on her thighs.

He put his big hands together on his lap.

And, then he slowly spread his hands apart.

Nancy drew in a breath and looked quickly away. Had he just motioned for her to spread her legs? In the crowded airport gate? No, she had to have imagined it.

She looked back at him and bit her red nail.

His face was stern. He spread his hands apart again.

She couldn't? Could she? What if somebody saw her? Eric was right beside her and a woman with short black hair sat beside her reading a fashion magazine.

The pilot stared at her expectantly.

Nancy uncrossed her legs.

He smiled and nodded, his eyes smoldering with lust.

She let her knees drift apart. Her skirt began to climb up her thighs, exposing the top of her stockings.

Nancy was breathing hard as she watched him, started breathing harder when she saw the growing bulge in his pants. She knew he could see the wet satin crotch of her red thong as she let her legs open even wider.

She alternated her focus between his hypnotic eyes and the bulge that now grew down his left leg.

A woman's face appeared beside the pilot's - one of the stewardesses, a beautiful blonde wearing a pink latex uniform over a white latex dress and a strange pentagram shaped brooch.

She smiled at Nancy.

Nancy clamped her thighs together and the blonde frowned. She shook her head and made a spreading motion with her hands.

No, she couldn't. Not for her, she would for the pilot, but not for the blonde woman.

The blonde laid her head on the pilot's shoulder, and then ran her fingers along the bulging length going down his left thigh.

No! That was for me, not you! Nancy screamed to herself. She frowned and spread her legs, giving them both a view of her soaked panties.

The pilot and stewardess smiled and nodded.

"Did you see that?" the brunette suddenly whispered beside her.

Nancy clamped her thighs together and pulled down her skirt. "Wh... What?"

"That stewardess just groped the pilot," the brunette said. "And, he must be huge."

Nancy sighed in relief. "Oh, no, I didn't see."

The stewardess and pilot smiled at Nancy. The blonde mouthed the words, "You're beautiful."

Nancy looked down... and saw the cellphone the stewardess held at hip level - evidently the flight crew was exempt from the cellphone prohibition.

The camera was pointing toward Nancy.

Oh, my God! She took pictures... pictures of me with my legs spread! Nancy blushed from head to toe.

The stewardess held the cellphone up to the pilot who turned his head and stared at the screen.

The stewardess said something, and the pilot nodded. His lips moved as he nodded. He mouthed a single word: Yes.

Nancy looked away quickly. The brunette in the business suit sitting beside her was still laughing at the stewardess's antics with the pilot's hardon.

"I'm Christine," the woman said. She was thin with short, shoulder length black hair and a sweet smile.

"Nancy."

Christine looked over at Eric, who was still reading. "Yours I take it?"

Nancy sighed. She tried to put the thought of the cellphone video out of her head. "Yeah, he's not quite gotten into the whole sexcation idea."

Christine laughed. "Yeah," she said as she looked around. "I have one just like him - he's in one of the bars looking for someone to talk to about concrete or rebar or whatever they build those skyscrapers with. I'm not even sure he knows what sexcation means."

Nancy laughed. "The housewife's lament."

"Oh, you're a housewife? Good for you! There are days I wish I went that route. I'm a doctor."

"You look as lonely as me," Nancy grumbled.

"Oh yeah. I'm hoping to rekindle something in the hotel room."

"Me too!" Nancy said. It was nice to have someone who understood what it was like living with a type A personality.