Her son was coming back to her. She could feel him returning to her, even from the watery grave his friends had sent him to. She could feel the rage inside her find a focused point of clarity that she had never known before. It consumed her and filled her with such a malevolent purpose. ‘Come to me,’ she whispered to her dead son, ‘Come…’ The children could never be trusted. Not a single one of them. She had seen them all running about before her boy drowned, smiling and innocent and putting on such a face of complete benignity that even she had been fooled. That false face they presented hid their wet, damp unions and their lovemaking and their sweaty climaxes, all so important that even the screams of dying boy were of no importance. Pamela stretched her hands to the sky and laughed, half crying and half overjoyed. The water in the middle of the lake was spewing red offal into the sky, glowing from the light of the hell unleashing just below the surface. Her nipples grew hard in. The pair upon her new girlfriends chest were a little smaller than her own had been, but otherwise, they didn't feel any different to her male hands than when she had touched her bosom with her own hands. In fact, she felt much less than when she was a girl. All she felt was a bit of nice soft flesh in her hands, same as usual. The bosoms definitely felt better when they were on your own chest. The flesh between her legs on the other hand was a lot cooler to have. It was fun to feel it get bigger like a balloon at the oddest thoughts. And when she petted it, it exploded in such wonderful pleasure! It was much better than the pleasures the area between her girl legs had given her. She was beginning to really like the idea of being her brother for a while. Now all she had to do is find her little sister and get back into her brother's body again. She might even try Tommy's body this time around. Little Lisa was getting a bit tired. She had been running down the street.
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