No Bores Allowed.

 “Don’t run off. We only have three days.” Alex said as he chaperoned the group forward. He hadn’t had a moment's peace since they arrived. He was the junior teacher though, and so he was basically thrown to the wolves. Hormonal, badly dressed, wolves. Surely school uniforms would have been professional. He buttoned up his own blazer and took a headcount.

“Anybody seen Cassie?” He asked. Everybody laughed. She was an exchange student from America, pretty and actually fairly benevolent girl. Not a troublemaker. At least in his mind. He had prayed she would just turn up somewhere. But an hour at the British museum passed. He was sweating, had he lost a bloody student? He had one of her friends call her, but no response.
“Sir, do you think Cassie is getting her organs stole?” The students laughed.
“Don’t joke about that. She probably… got some stupid idea in her head like going to see a visiting girl pop band. She’ll turn up.” Would she though? How was she going to find her way through London after dark? A blonde American girl who stood out like a sore thumb.

He put on his coat and snuck out the hotel during the night. He swear he saw a bar near where she poofed out of existence. He weaved in and out of the early drunks and checked in with a shop across the road.
“Evening. Did you see a girl earlier. Shortish, blonde hair, T-Shirt with Taylor Swift on it.”
“No one like that.” The old woman said. The younger shopkeeper chimed in.  “Not quite, I heard a young American go into that bar..” Alex stared at the sign across the road.
"I used to like that music, but I always had respect. There were always arseholes around but.. ” The woman said with an expression of fondness. Alex smiled. "Thanks, I'll let you go."

“Shite. No way did she go in here by herself.” He took a deep breath. He wandered in and saw all sorts of tatted up men and women enjoying a pint. The noise passing for music instantly irritated him. He stopped in front of the two spiky haired guys at pool table. “Scuse me mate. Either of you seen an American girl? ”
“Oh yeah, I saw her crying in the back.” He chuckled and the other guy gave a nasty toothy smirk. Alex stepped backwards and headed where they pointed. These people made him uncomfortable.

He stepped through the doorway and immediately inhaled something and started to cough. He shook it off and peered through the red ambiance. Someone wearing Cassie’s stretched clothing was slumped in the corner but, she looked… not like a she at all. As he approached he swear he saw a flash of appear blue in their eyes. Then they.. god are they alright!? Their face seemed to crunch and morph as their muscles bulged. The way the thin. skin stretched, it was like it was going to split.  He saw ink began to seep beneath the thickening arm hair. They grabbed their crotch screaming in pain. Alex’s mind try to process the unnatural thing he was seeing. Yet it seemed he was the only one seeing it. Everyone around was too drunk to care.

Alex screamed as his bones snapped, He just tumbled onto the couch near ‘Cassie’. He cried in pain as he felt his chest compress and his balls rupture. He looked around for help, one person just pointed and laughed. “Fixing another two boring cunts.” Another tall bearded man with one tattoo going down his face to his right arm threw a pair of panties at him.

As his head swung to the right he saw what was clearly a grown man. Ginger hair, a slight beard and a heavy forehead. Face overall a little rough. But.. incroyablement.. ‘andsome. Wha.. what? His arms and legs felt like jelly as they began to spasm and then taper. The hair fell off, leaving plush smooth skin. He heard a sound like falling curtains as long curly hair slithered down his neck. Memories stalking the edges of his mind began to penetrate his brain’s membrane as he saw himself growing up in Lyon. An angry middle class French girl with apathetic parents, who spent her childhood days by the river. Throwing insults at the oh so precious couples.

He began to fondle his balls. That’s not right… how did these get there? Oo, so salty, I love gargling the balls!  
“Ce'st.. de.de..disgusting. What is 'appening to me?” He struggled to form language but found himself dropping letters as his accent slowly morphed. Satin French words substituted every grim and gruff Kentish tone he’d grown up with.

Alex’s natural dark brunette hair turned light platinum dyed blonde. She pursed her red blooming lips. She remembered being called slut and 'artist whore' in University. Une vraie nymphomane! Then she met Irishman Mattie Donahue, a traveling roadie in a dingy dive bar just like this. She dropped out and never went back. Je m'en fous! Fuck those Parisian bitches. She just needed cock, guitar riffs, rum and wine. Those made you content.
Alex's confused castrated self-image screamed. "Who is this inside my head? French.. I'm... French and proud!"

A jacket appeared on Cassie and jeans appeared on both of them. Their favourite bands of Cannibal Corpse and Iron Maiden, appearing on their T-Shirts. Alex yelped with his new high tone as a nose ring ripped into his flesh. The pain made Alex pinch his nipples as he began to feel like a horny mess. He let out a sexy moan as natural pale tits expanded against his shirt, the perky pink nipples poking through the cloth. Milk and new tissue filling up the middle. His arse then exploded with soft flesh against the sofa.

Celina and Alex's thoughts began to merge. I hate myself, can't believe I was pushed around by these...these annoying little brats! When what I really want to do is show my tits and tats off to men and play with my kitty. I am a hard rocking slut! Her new brown eyes violently rolled to the back of her head as she felt Alex's broken balls dragged back up inside and his cock shrank and inverted.

Alex’s flickering consciousness found itself forced into feelings of lust and frustration.  Celina placed her wine on the table. “Wake up you big fuck. Maintenant! C'est chiant. I want ze sex."  Celina slapped his big hard chest.
“Alright you’ll get your dick.” Just as they started to shift, a high pitched operatic vocal burst open the air.
“Wait, I like zis one.” Celina bopped her head.
“Fuck yer poxy Nightwish. You wanna fuck, we’re going now.” He pulled her up and through the predatory crowd to the bathroom.

Celina made an o shape with her lips as Matt’s swollen cock took a long deep push, stroking all her little growing pleasure spots. “Quoi, do eet zis way. I want all your hard meat.”
The Misfits song ‘Scream’ tore up the background making them both even more excited and made Matt fuck harder. Graves is better than Danzig. But don't let Mattie hear that! She giggled internally.
“What a toight fuckin twat.” He was practically crushing her tits against the scummy bathroom door. She ran her pussy up and down making friction. “Filthy slag, you’re gonna burn me dick off.” She shrieked over and over as she pushed her hand into the wall.

His eyes widened. Cassie frantically tried to hold onto a memory, any memory that meant she existed. But she was quickly suppressed and overwhelmed as Matt's more 'experienced' personality dominated hers. All that mattered was cuming. The pressure ohhhh...fuuuckk. Matt’s froze and gasped as he let out what was unbeknownst to him, his first sticky load.

Alex was almost on the precipice. Celina looked at her bare arm. Why is my skin like this? I should have tattoos or.. shouldn’t I? But.. no this isn’t right why am I in this body? As if raising an objection, wild and freaky tattoos begin to serpentine along her arms as her body begin to shake. This isn't my body I..! No, please!
“Merde. Mon deux” And Alex slipped into the blissful coma that was Celina. “You really know what ze cock is for.” She grabbed his balls and dick and let out a seductive striking laugh. He just grunted in response and tossed the filthy condom aside.

The two of them left the bar, their clothes disheveled. Cassie and Alex had never existed, but those weirdo metal heads who had moved to London to be together definitely did.