Date: Tue, 7 Jul 2015 17:44:24 -0400
From: EricAunleashed@aol.com
Subject: Erica Unleashed in High School - part 6 (TG-Teen)
TG ARCHIVES;'Erica Unleashed in High School #6'{EricA}( F^B teen1 tg )[6!6]
"Erica Unleashed"
Erica Unleashed - Chapter 6
To keep you, our loyal (and perhaps somewhat perverted) readers from
getting bored, we have decided to do things a bit differently this installment.
Don't worry if it's confusing at first ... just keep reading and you'll
catch on soon enough.
The disclaimers still apply. If you're starting with this chapter in the
story of Erica, the teen transsexual temptress, it's a dumb thing to do, so
go back to chapter one and do it right.
And support nifty financially, or else Alice's Awesome Anecdotes (and my
own small contribution as well) will have to find a new home, and you'll
spend the rest of your pathetic existence searching the world (wide web) for
the next installment to Erica's story.
I had the dream again.
To say "the" dream doesn't mean to imply it's always identical - but the
dreams all have a common theme. One not appropriate for a Minister of the
Gospel.
They started early on in high school, a result of a little too much AD&D
and other roleplaying games. I was a holy warrior, a paladin, the good guy
defender of all that is righteous and just. Usually the setting was some
medieval fantasy, but it could just as easily take place in Puritan New England
or present-day wherever I was living at the time or even futuristic outer
space. And the common theme was a woman. Seductive and evil. I would stand
up to opposing armies and hideous monsters without fear and make short work
of them... but the woman - the femme fatale - was someone I couldn't beat.
She knew my weaknesses and knew just how to exploit them. She would have
me on my knees, worshiping her very essence, preventing me from fulfilling
my mission. Sometimes, she WAS the mission. Stop her. Eliminate Her. But
against Her, I always failed.
"She" was always inspired by real women - often a celebrity, but sometimes
a real woman in my life. She was Jane Badler in "V". She was Mrs Green, my
tenth grade English teacher. She was Faye Dunaway in "Wicked Lady". She was
Lisa my next door neighbor growing up. If I commanded the Earth's defense
forces, she would seduce me for the codes to turn off the defense shields.
If I was captain of the Royal Guard, I'd reveal to her the secret passage
into the palace. If she was Jezebel, I was Elijah, on my knees before a
shrine to Baal and telling her the location of the hidden prophets of God.
See, not really appropriate for a minister.
The closest I came to meeting "her" for real was with a lady who would
come into Dad's store. For a while we lived in a small town where my family
owned and operated a small "general store" (although the term is applied
loosely) - sort of a convenience store that wasn't part of a chain. I was 17 and
had already decided I was on my way to seminary after graduation. She must
have been about thirty, and virtually perfect all over. Long dark hair, a
exotic facial features, and always with just enough cleavage exposed to
draw all the attention she wanted, but never enough to be called
"inappropriate". She drove a shiny black Firebird and wore a wedding ring, though I
never saw her with a man.
The first time she came into the store, it was to buy picnic supplies -
sodas and chips and napkins and disposable plastic utensils. I was alone in
the store, at the register. Somehow, the plastic flatware hadn't been marked
with a price tag, so when she asked how much they were - holding them up so
they were in line between my eyes and her cleavage, I just mumbled since
there was no price tag, she could have them for free. I knew it was only a
few cents, it wouldn't break us, and I knew I'd be enjoying memories of her
for several nights thereafter.
The next time she came in (perhaps a week later) she brought only one item
- a case of Coke - to the register. I was again the only one working. Only
this time, she very blatantly peeled the price tag off the case and dropped
it on the floor, then leaned forward so her breasts were practically
laying on the cokes and asked how much they cost. The smile she gave me was
positively evil. Predatory. I was trembling (I remember that part very clearly)
and my voice was breaking as I told her they were free.
I was rewarded with a wink ... and a nice view of her ass in a very tight
skirt as she wiggled her way back to her car and drove away. I'm pretty
sure that in the year before I want away to college, I must have given her over
two hundred dollars worth of merchandise from the store.
It was worth every penny.
I didn't get rid of the pictures I secretly took of her until the day
before I married Amanda.
The dreams didn't stop immediately after I married the love of my life. I
was in that awkward place where I knew if I prayed for help I'd get the help
I needed ... but the part of me that enjoyed the fantasy wouldn't allow me
to. After about five years of marriage, in a particularly honest moment, I
confided my fantasy to Amanda, and she prayed for me. Now we've been
married 12 years and I can't even remember the last time I had the dream.
Until last night.
I was the general on the great white horse, leading an army to defend my
godly kingdom against a barbarian hoard led by ... it was rumored ... a 14
year old pagan princess. My army was larger, better trained, better armed.
And in all modesty, better led. How DARE this little pagan bitch even dream
of invading! Under the guise of a parlay to "negotiate" her turning her army
around and going back home, I was seriously considering taking her hostage
and giving her ass a good spanking - not in a sexual way of course, but as
would be appropriate for a disobedient child. Then, perhaps, sending her
to a convent to live out the rest of her years in service to the one true
God.
A tent was set up in the field separating our two armies. We would meet
inside, just the two of us, to discuss the possibility of avoiding a war. I
went in confident I would prevail. What does a 14 year old girl know of
negotiating matters of state, leading an army, standing up to an experienced
warrior? Once inside the tent, however, things began to change.
There was an altar set up in a corner, to one of her pagan gods. Well, a
goddess, actually, with accentuated hips and breasts ... I could only imagine
what she was goddess of. Incense was burning all around the shrine ... a
strange odor, both pungent and sweet... and I was vaguely aware of the very
light sound of wind chimes strategically placed so as to sound when the
slightest breeze found it's way inside. She greeted me with all the right
words, as if the barbarian princess had somehow been schooled in the courtly
arts .. using the correct forms of address, telling me how honored she was
that I would grace her humble tent with my illustrious presence ... even
mentioned referred to me as the hero of this battle and that... But her
breasts. Too distracting, being out on display in that "armor" she wore which
would provide virtually no protection at all in battle.
After a few seconds of silence, I realized it was my turn to reply ... and
I couldn't remember what to say. Knowing I had to say something, I mumbled
some sort of greeting and welcomed her to the kingdom. Then I saw it.
That predatory smile.
A thousand silent voices - a host of angels no doubt - screamed at me to
turn and run. Run back to the safety of my lines. Prepare my army for
immediate battle. Instruct my chaplain to pray fervently for my ability to
maintain a clear head. Already, I was starting to feel ... different.
Unsteady. Confused.
"I understand your kingdom's pomegranate harvest was something of a
disappointment this year, general. Would you do me the honor of allowing me to
share some of mine with you?"
I nodded, but remained dumb for a few seconds before speaking. "That would
be ...." Before I finished my response, she cut one in two with an ornate
double edged dagger. Instead of handing me half.. she held them both above
her breasts and squeezed... I watched, mesmerized, as the juices covered her
luscious breasts ...
"Well? ..... They're not going to lick themselves" she whispered, moving
closer and with a single finger on my shoulder, directed me to my knees.
In two days, everyone in the kingdom would know I was the one who betrayed
them to this pagan princess. It would be fairly obvious as she rode my own
horse (a gift to me from the king) into the palace with me, naked, being
lead by a leash. If not for my betrayal, how could my whole army have been
defeated by such a small band of barbarians? If not for me, how could they
know of the secret passage into the castle? If not for my betrayal, how could
her guard have known of the secret hiding place of the royal family deep
within the palace.
-------------------------
Today was an unseasonably cool day, which is why I had the window in my
upstairs study open as I was working on next Sunday's sermon. That's why I
heard her call out so clearly to my children. I rushed to the window for a
glimpse. Just one glimpse of Erica .. the 14 year old temptress next door.
Closer in age to my own children than to me. I would never.. never.. dream
of actually doing anything physical with a minor. But still... the dream...
I should pray about it.
But I won't.
I wonder if Erica might be interested in babysitting for us some evening.
========
========
It's odd, I thought to myself. I had that dream again.
Grace has been over for the last several nights "studying," at least
that's what she's been telling her father. She's been bringing dinner each
night, as expected. Her brother Patrick always drops her off, but the last 2
nights the sexual tension has been getting more palpable, again, as expected.
He gets heated up by the girls and heads home in a bit of a tizzy...probably
rubbing one off as soon as he gets home, no doubt....I love me!
Grace has been practicing her make-up and hair and can almost get it
right, but she still needs a bit more instruction and practice. I've been making
her play dress-up and modeling the lingerie Stephanie sent home with Donna
and me last weekend as I practice making Grace more and more comfortable
getting naked. She hasn't yet seen me in all my glory...yet. I'm waiting for
the right moment to spring THAT surprise on her and I don't think it will
be much longer...primarily because I'm tired of giving and not getting -
that's not in my nature.
I've been licking her pussy for 3 days now and you'd think that I'd be
dreaming of fucking the little ginger girl silly. But, no. I keep having this
dream of being in some sort of tent. I'm being bathed by a group of women -
washing my hair, cleansing my luscious titties and being sucked off. Before
I can cum, I hear a thunder of hooves approaching. My handmaidens hastily
dress me in a flowing gown and put on some sort of armor over the
diaphanous fabric hiding my nakedness. It's not armor that would protect me in a
battle, but more of a show of strength to my visitors. The armor pushes my
breasts closer together, creating a mass of cleavage that could hide a small
person.
The incense is lit and a small quick prayer is made to the goddess as the
sound of arrogant male voices outside the tent both annoy and amuse my
handmaidens.
I know that this so-called powerful chieftain sees me as a simple 14
year-old girl, not a equal and certainly not a superior. Let him think he has
the upper hand. He will come to know that, in the end, he exists to only
worship me. He approaches and I offer a slight smile, a predatory smile.
My smile had apparently caught him off guard and he said, in a voice more
timid than he'd intended, "Ahhh, Welcome to our kingdom, my lady. We have
much to discuss, you and I." The bastard - didn't even offer up a proper
response to my courtly greeting. I'll make him pay extra for his arrogance.
"Yes, we do. But first, I understand that your kingdom's pomegranate
harvest was something of a disappointment this year, general." I suppress a
smile, knowing the potion that spread disease to their pomegranate orchards
could easily be modified to destroy any manner of crop. "Would you do me the
honor of allowing me to share some of mine with you?" As he nodded dumbly, I
took an enormous ornate dagger that had been strapped to my thigh and
sliced the fruit in two halves. A handmaiden had unstrapped my breastplate and
I stood before the chieftain in my white gown.
Instead of offering a half to him, I squeezed both halves of the fruit
onto my chest. The red juices stained my gown and made the fabric completely
transparent. Grasping the neckline of my gown, I ripped the fabric aside
exposing the soft pillows of my breasts and the hard little beads of my erect
nipples. Thrusting my chest forward and approaching him, I said,
"Well...they're not going to lick themselves."
With a single finger I touched his shoulder. I increased the pressure of
my touch indicating that he should kneel before me. I began to open the folds
of my gown to display the object he would worship...
RRRRIIINNNGGGGG!!!
Dammit! I hate that alarm clock. I've gotten to this point in my dream
each of the last 2 nights and always the alarm clock begins its incessant
ringing.
Stretching and yawning I greet the late summer morning and begin another
day of school. Going to the window of the bedroom that Donna and I share, I
look out on the early morning. Since the bedroom is on the back corner of
the house, I can see into the backyard of our next-door neighbors, the Heath
family. The Reverend Heath is up early this morning sitting on the patio
with a cup of coffee and a sheaf of papers in his hand...no doubt working on
a sermon for this week's service.
It dawned on me that Rev. Heath was the chieftain in my dream! A slight
smile formed on my lips ... a predatory smile.