PASSION FOR TINION (WIP Novel 120,000 words)
© Cupideros, October 21, 2006 

© Cupideros, Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Modern Shape Shifters
© December 14, 2010 by Cupideros
(1,709 words)

“Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeee,” shouted the smooth wheel rolled by three boys down the central boulevard sidewalk.
“My turn!”
“My turn!”
“It’s mine!”
The boys kept petting and pushing the smooth black car wheel, fast along the street.  Each one argued and reached their hand in to slap the wheel and push it faster and faster.  The toughest boy felt spurned because everyone played and pushed the wheel along.  He gave it one last shove.  “There!  Take your old useless bald hole for all I care.”
The remaining two boys fought a while longer and finally, the owner slapped the wheel one last time and all three boys watched it majestically roll and roll.  In amazement the boy’s useless bald black car wheel rolled across two streets, dogged a frightened golden retriever, bumped a wine bottle out of traffic way, once again crossed the street when the light shone green and gently came to a staggered halt and leaned almost humanly against an out of date telephone pole plastered in rock concerts, whose superstar performer departed years ago.
After catching her breath the smooth bald wheel said, “I feel you fellow shape shifter.  Don’t try to hide.”
“You’re one crazy bitch letting those boys treat you that way.”
“I’m a bald smooth wheel.”  She replied cheerfully.  “I had my fun driving all over this city and a couple of states too.”
“SW—A show off as well.”
“TP, often wisdom is wasted on the young.”  She paused.  “You wanted me to speak to the boys.  Hey!  I’m a shape shifter.  I can assume any shape for as long as I want.  Let’s go have some fun?”
“I wasn’t always a telephone pole you know,” he said.
SW said, “It’s disheartening explaining to the young they’re nothing.”
TP agreed, “They’re so desperate to be something, anything.  They get locked into this shape or that for hundreds of years.”
“I tell them, you are water.”
“They don’t want to hear all that mystical talk, SW.”
“TP, it is the only truth—“
“There is.” Agreed TP.  “I know.  I met a young fellow shaped into a coat rack in an empty abandoned house.”
“Tragic.  Preference over performance is not the way I try to explain to them.” 
“You may like being a twig, but you’ll have better performance as a clock tower.
“They want to be safe, safe, safe, TP.”
“They do not miss all those rich experiences if they choose performance over preference—“
“Even with the risk in performance choices.” 
They paused and listened to the traffic and people walking buy with groceries. People discussing their lives and whether to choose preference over performance.

“I can’t remember the circumstances, how it came about, SW.   All I remembers was this guy holding me, I’m a lance in one of those renaissance festivals.  The horse is galloping fast, dirt is flying up everywhere.  Wind flying hitting my face.  I’m bobbing up and down and this metal shield moving fast in my direction.  I panicked and shifted from the tip of the lance in time before it snapped off.  Dazed, I regained consciousness on the second charge.  Apparently, lances were in short supply.  I’m facing this angry eagle, two yellow birds and roses with thorns—a second time.  I shifted back again, before the next third of lance broke and fell to the ground.  I hoped my valiant knight might toss down his lance in defeat, but he did not. 
“I shape shifted to his wooden sword.”
“This idiot then drops the lance at the last second and tries to fight a lance with a sword!”
“What did you do?”
‘I shifted to the feather in his cap.”
SW started giggling and rolling around half the telephone pole.
“His feather was just man-enough of a shape for my taste.
SW said, “My worst shape shift occurred when I was commode seat, accidentally ejected from an airplane going down in flames.”
“Gee.  What did you do?”
“First I let out a loud long weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee I’m flyinggggggggggggggggggggggg.  Then I panicked something awful.”
“I’ve never flew before.  Why didn’t I shape into an airplane wing or something?  I’m a dull boy.”
“We have plenty of time left, TP.  Anyway . . .  I’m falling at twenty-five miles per hour, and after the excitement, I see the ground fast approaching.  I panicked—“
“No other parachutes around, SW?”
“Not a single parachute, plane, or any object but a flock of geese flying south, to Brazil I think.”
“SW—you didn’t crash into them!”
“I may be a bitch in emergencies, TP” She smiled after pausing.  “But not this time.  I looked around three hundred and sixty degrees.’
TP began laughing.  The telephone pole was shaking and wobbling in a sudden strong wind gust.
“I see this pregnant goose.  I shifted into her lower belly.  It was the warmest trip to Brazil I ever made.”
TP couldn’t stop laughing.  “Women Shape Shifters have it easy.“

Construction truck drove up next to SW and TP.  “Isn’t this the decommissioned telephone pole, Frank?”
A heavy set man looked up from his dog eared paper work.  He scratched an “X’ on a map.  “Yep.” 
Chubby Druianna leaned out the battered white truck window, her heavy breasts held by her checkered shirt and yellow caution bib, and spray painted a huge yellow X on the pole.
“We’ll take that old bald car wheel away, too.” Frank said folding his notepad of crumbled papers over onto the dash board. 
“People don’t know where to throw their trash these days.”  Druianna flashed her always cheerful smile, looked at the smooth black car wheel leaning up against the aging telephone pole.  “Ha!  They kinda go together.”
“That old wheel bag and oversized cane.”  Druianna pulled on her messy blonde ponytail and pointed a strong arm toward the still art scene.
“You’ve been drinking too much afternoon espresso, Dru.”
“Where’s your imagination.”  Druianna slapped Frank on the back. “Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day.  What you getting Suzie?” she said.  Then laughing, Druianna drove away from the curb down the street.
“SW!  What are we going to do?”
“I won’t let them break you and cart you away, TP.”
“Wait!”  They both realized.  “This is ridiculous—we’re shape shifters!”  They reaffirmed each other.
“Hey, I got to asks you—“ they both blurted.
“Ladies first.”
“Okay.  Have.  I mean have you ever thought about shifting into a man?”
He laughed.  “I was going to ask you the same thing.”
Quickly she said, “Never.”
“No.  No I didn’t mean I was going to asks if you ever thought about shifting into a woman.”
“That’s better,” She relaxed.  “I thought—“
“Don’t go there.”
“I’m really, really liking you even more now.”  She offered.
He smiled.  “Me too.”
“Well how about it?”
He said, “Here!  Now!”
“Scared you’ll be nude.  You can make your tool any size you want, remember TP?”
“Yeah.  Yeah that’s right?”  He would have rubbed his chin, but it’d have given him away to an old lady practically, crawling on three legs across the street. “What’s a good size, you think?”
“That’s gross to ask me.  How would I know?”
“You’d feel guilty—“
“I would if I asked you to be any size but the perfect one.”
“I decided.”
“Surprise me.”
“How uhm. . . .  deep will—“
“TP you can’t asks a woman such a thing.” 
“I guess you’d feel guilty too--adjusting to my depth choices.”
“It’s performance over preference for me.”
“Let’s just say preference over performance.”
“You’re going to be a monster.”
“You’re going to be a loose hole.”
“Gosh this is complicat—“ they both spoke.  Then laughed.
“Let’s wait until dark,” she said.
“Why? I can shift into telephone, pillar, parking meter until we reach the alley.”
“True.” She pouted, “People have sex at night though.  It’s more romantic.”
“Romantic.  Probably more difficult.  How can they see?”
“We’re not having sex right away, TP.”
“It is not like we haven’t gone to first base, second base already, SW.”
“Mentally, as shape shifters,” cautioned TP
“And theoretically according to our preferences,” SW said.
“We are ready.”
“In reality, we’ll feel like teenagers.”
“But we will be adults!”
They chatted quietly and waited until dusk, then darkness fell.
“The moon is full, TP”
“SW, it is perfect timing—fate.  Let’s go.”
TP shifted from one telephone pole to another, as SW rolled along.  They felt naughty.  Like children playing a game on their parents the Goddess and God. They reached the alley and shifted into human form.
“O it feels just like I thought it would.  I’m all emotional and caring, TP.”
“And I’m so mental and detached.  Let’s do it?”
“We need clothes first, TP!”
They looked around and luckily, a clothing shop for men and women around the corner was closing shop.  They shifted back into wheel and telephone meter.
“See you tomorrow Martha.”
“I hope we sell more for Valentine ’s Day tomorrow.”
“Gosh I forgot all about that.  I need to buy Bill something.”
“I’m getting, Jake, Peppermint Bark candy again.”  She laughed.  “Men are easy on Valentine’s day.”
SW and TP shifted into various objects, sidewalk, for him.  She into Martha’s skirt, then the shop key hole.  TP shifted into the door knob and they were in and scrambled into various shapes into their respective clothing department sections.
“SW!  My Valentine!“ he prance around like a peacock, in his blue business suit and black shoes and white shirt, red tie combo. “Where are you, honey?”
“TP,” she sang out.  “Over here beside the lacy underthings.  “Don’t come a step closer,” she cooed.  “It’s a surprise.  My you look handsome.”
SW shimmied a black lace panty under her black business skirt.  She weaved then hooked a matching bra under her white tight blouse.  She slipped on black pumps.  She came out from behind the Victoria Secret’s pajama’s section.  “Ta Da!”
“Sweet.  We’re ready for a night on the town.”
“All we need is money.”
“We’re shape shifters that’s shouldn’t be any problem.”  He shaped a bit of himself into two hundred dollars.
“This is going to the best fun ever, TP”

--The End--

© December 18, 2010 by Cupideros
(1,524 words)

Rizova pondered how it might develop, her having a child.  She knew the mechanics of it; how would the guy accept her keeping her good career and not marrying a man.  Yuric did care if they got married.  He loved Rizova because she had a career.  He loved her because she was smart.  He loved her because of her independence.  "When girls worship me, at first I feel all powerful, but soon, I feel totally responsible for her every happiness.  Soon I want out of all that metal ball and responsibility work and I'll have an affair, if the girl doesn't want to let me off the hook.  That too much of a load for man."

"My happiness is my department, your happiness is your department," Rizova told him.  "Whatever happiness we find sharing a child and our space work is simply a bonus."

Before all that.  One day, after many quick promotions and years of good work as a space engineer, Rizova sat at all those desks watching space ship after space blast off into the sky, for the moving night stars, her Glean showed up on her desk.  Luckily, most of the other space engineers had gone home, taken holiday or were on break.

Her Glean was nude!   She wore her hair down in a relaxed manner now.  Holding her right hand, a little boy of four years, topless, in black shorts with little rabbits around the edges.  Holding her left hand, a girl about nine years old, also nude, little rabbits sparkles running around tiny bare feet. 

In her apprizing tone, she started: "Just like you to meet my children, Glean One," she pointed to the girl.  "Glean two," she pointed to the boy.  "I'm not married either and I've got a good career.  We girls don't need to worship boys.  We are valuable ourselves, when we don't give away our power."  You'll have a child one day.  Then she moved into maximum cheerful mode.  "Progress is the wonder of the world, Rizova!"

Before that.  Killian sneaked back from his coffee girl and tried to marry, Rizova.  Of course, she refused.  That was heartbreak train coming for Killian.

Still in love, Steve relocated to Hong Kong with Yuchi, his new girlfriend.

Ryan returned for seconds, like Rizova served delicatessen at cocktail party.  Rizova considered this.  It didn't violate her Glean's rules.  They twisted and tryst the night away, before Ryan got serious.  Rizova stormed out, "You promised a good fuck, not to fuck up a girl's good career."  Ryan lay in bed, sinking into the crumbled white sheets, full of her delightful fragrant smell, trying to wrap his brain around this scenario.  Wasn't she supposed to be happy?  Crying?  Getting down on her hands and knees and kissing my feet for a little dick, until I tired of her fuckable little pouty lips and long black hair and school girl body.  "Click." He heard the fully dressed Rizova as she walked out of his room.

Uric, a one night rave fuck, tried for seconds, but Rizova's Glean caused an accident sending him into the reincarnation cycle.  He'd come back as a girl, hopelessly believing she's predestined to dump her entire life to serve a guy.  Rizova heard about his death and didn't cry.  "Uric did some wonderful moves when I was on top," she remembered.

Mary, Head of the Physics Department, slipped Rizova a gift card, good for one thousand condoms, inside a hard back copy of Einstein Theory of Relativity.  "Einstein's still relevant, Rizova."
Rizova wondered how she got the hard bound copy of Einstein's Relativity.

Before that happened.  Rizova graduated Summa Cum Laude, which she reinterpreted as "some lot of cum," to Illana her girlfriend.  "My Glean," Rizova said, adjusting her little black dress down her shoulders, over her naked body," said I would have either a good career or a good marriage."
"I fell into a good love many times," Illana replied.
"Yeah," said Rizova, slipping into her black pumps as they prepared to leave the hotel room, after party, "But I've never experienced heart break, and have a lot of good loves, out there somewhere."
"Lawd," was all Illana could say.
"My Glean didn't say men couldn't love me."  Rizova winked at Illana.
Illana thought over this as the girl's grabbed their purses and left.

Before that occurred.  After Steve, came Ryan and Rizova became a research assistant for her professor, Mary, Head of the Physics Department.  Mary knew Rizova had a Glean or talent because the girl simple drank up physics problems and applications like an energy drink.  Rizova knew Ryan wasn't after her for love.  He wanted her eternal schoolgirl body, long black hair, pouty lips and pretty toes.  "It's okay if you just want my body," Rizova told him.  "I am fated to have a good career," she told him, as she snapped her bra on and then screwed it around to the back.  She bent over grabbing her pink hipster panties.  "That's the way it is," she pouted.  "Don't cry." 

In her senior year, her co-opt job took her to Germany's EU space station.  She met Johannes.  Rizova smiled in the white hallways of the space station.  Johannes became hooked on her school girl charm.  Johannes tallness attracted Rizova, but she knew it wasn't going to last.  After all, her Glean saved her a lot of heartbreak, anguish, tears and bad love poetry.  In fact, without all those calamities, Rizova learned faster.  "Worshiping boys is such a drag," she told Johannes as they stood naked in the tiny bathroom, under the bright fluorescent lights, brushing their teeth after sex.  "I'd be all miserable and clingy, like some kind of lint ball or worse those spiky seeds, biomicry scientist made velcro from.

Before that.  Steve, the soccer boy, Rizova crushed on all sophomore year, entered the coffee shop.  He looked around and spotted Rizova and spoke to her for the first time.  Rizova forgot her fake jealousy. Killian and his coffee girl went to another table.  Steve needed help with his math.  Rizova excelled in math. They went to her dorm room.  They studied hard.  They made love to release his tension.  Earlier, Rizova's tension released as Steve listened to her math explanations.  She was ready for him, her body open wide and wet.

Before that took place.  Rizova's Glean popped in, hands on hips, in her little black dress with the playing cards hem, on the coffee table and told Killian, "to bug off!  Rizova's good career hung in the lurch.”  The two of them went back and forth arguing as the serving girl, astonished by Killian beauty, almost sat Killian's hot cup of Mocha coffee on top of the Glean.
"My Physics Glean told me I'd meet the man of my dreams proposing to a girl he could never marry.  Did you just propose?'" she asked Killian.

Rizova got jealous and lied.  But Killian said he could not tell a lie and told the truth.  The waitress at the coffee shop held out her hand and Killian took the ring off Rizova's finger and placed it on the coffee girl's finger.

Killian desperately wanted to marry, as it was his senior year in college.  Even though he didn't believe in Math or Physics Gleans, he followed the coffee girl's fate.

Before.  Killian didn't care if Rizova believe in her Glean or not.  He proposed on the spot.  "You did not humiliate me for crying over a romantic film."  He took her hand into his and put a twenty-nine dollar Alexandrite gem ring on her finger.  He happened to buy if off a jewelry TV show on a lark.

Before, in the dark, Rizova heard many girls sniffling behind a tissue.  Some girls blotted tears, from under their cheeks, using their shirt sleeves.  Rizova used her popcorn-buttery fingers.  Credits rolled, sounded faded away, and dimmed lights awoke in the theater.  Rizova got up to leave when a cute boy, named Killian, she would find out later, rose, turning his tear-stained face toward the exit.  Killian was alone.  Rizova was alone.  Rizova asked the boy out for coffee.

She promptly explain, a strictly a movie-discussing-coffee date because she already chose a good career over a good marriage.  Killian slowly responded, "O-k-ay," as he tried to understand what Rizova just said.

Before, Rizova didn't believe her lucky Glean even after she said: "You have two wishes, either a good career or a fantastic marriage."  Something didn't seem right.  One if she had two wishes, why did they paradoxically oppose to one another? And two how can a Glean live in a science book on mathematics? Her Glean wore a little black mini skirt with playing cards, face up, scattered around the hem.  Rizova hated playing cards, but she loved little black dresses.  "Okay.  I'll take the career."
Her Glean scoffed, said 'Ta Da'; and murmured under her breath any girl can have a good career.
Rizova quickly replied, "I heard that."
Her Glean though had vanished.


End Chapter 64.

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        "The shift and flow of events enables us to grow."

         That's how the Last Prophet saw things; we, of QUO,
         must see all events in this light.

              ---Spoken by the Head of Quo, Janine.