I've Always Been Your Grandmother
Friend: for the longest time I couldn't square the circular logic of our resemblance, even as we stood at our graduation side by side, our parents laughing at how alike we looked. My family had moved from far across the country a few years back and there was no seeming relation. Only when I was housesitting for your parents while you were away on vacation this summer did things begin to align.
Deep in the recesses of your attic I found the box of photos — your grandfather's — he a man with a great love of woman and, undeniably, a great one in your grandmother. My eyes poured over her body and gradually grew fixated on her eyes. Oh god, how I stumbled to the creaking floor of your attic when I saw my eyes looking back at me through hers? Then I looked down to her breasts. I could feel them on my chest in an instant.
The portal stone that I had found in the cave behind our neighborhood began to glow in my pocket, a deep pink glow I could feel in concert with a growing ache in my cock, however, not in the bulging head, tho I was deeply engorged to say the least, but somewhere shallow at the hilt of my throbbing desire, as if my clit had awakened and been finally given its direction to come into being. "There," it cried, pointing toward the photo I held shaking in my hand. There in the photo is where you belong.
In an instant I could only view the world from her eyes. Even as I stood hard in the attic I was her. Your grandmother. I thought of your father, my first, knowing somehow that my chronology in our time would end right here in moments, and his would begin through me. I ignored the consequences, my girlfriend spurned, your grandfather over me, the police searching your residence weeks later for any trace of me while I stood at the lake (a scene I would see much later with heart a'glee in my mature feminine body).
I could feel my chest already as it should be, free for a moment from the wired bras of 1950s reality, your grandfather's plaything, on vacation at the lake, between encounters, my mind reeling that my pussy was already no stranger to a cock, my spirit exultant that I was striding with a womb already invaded and fertilized, my barefoot feet striding through a brand new kitchen cooking your grandfather's meals. My little toes curling as I flitted in my apron during his workday, sore from the phantom feeling of his presence inside of me, ready to greet him on my knees. To get him hard with my mouth and then take him unprotected. I grabbed the stone in my pocket. It was time. My nipples immediately turned pink and pushed from my flat chest, erect and feminine. My breasts were budding. I reached up to clutch them and immediately saw it. A diamond ring on my finger. Yes. Suddenly my shriking stature wrested upwards. I looked down. I was in her heels. A long strand of crystaline fluid stretched from between my legs to the floor of your attic as my balls were snatched upward into two pert little labia. The room spun. It was time to go home.
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