Here, a woman named Samirah "walks into" the physical body of a woman of "Amazon Land". Formerly, Samirah was an Iranian-Arab woman of Iran, Earth. Her Earth-body destroyed by war (the Iran-Iraq war of 1980s), Samirah directly incarnates into the vacated body of a woman whose soul wished to leave and do purely spirit-plane, energy work.
Sex scene descriptions have been removed. Words for male and female genitals have been replaced by... well, the word, genital. All this censorship nonsense will be gone when you access the main site.
From here, Samirah describes in her own words what happened, from minutes before the walk-in to minutes, hours, days then weeks after she walked in that woman's misused body and found herself in a new world. The guy from story-excerpt-1 comments here and there...
First, a wee bit of vocabulary here...
In both races, the women tend to be bigger.
Note, as well, the typical dress and behavior of Shasheerians...
"I was told by thought, it was ready. I had been in a place of supreme peace and love. I had constructed for myself, using my thoughts, a beautiful mountain garden for me to wait in.
I dissolved the garden and felt a rushing, high-speed feeling. Next thing I knew, I was standing next to a bed observing a vaporous form of a woman's body. Standing near me was a nice looking woman, nude, with an Oriental face. She seemed serious. From her back extended a silvery set of pulsating threads, all bundled together. They went from her back to just above the naval of the vaporous body. A number of radiant beings were with us. Three of them stepped forward. Two of these Angels stood over the vaporous body and extended their palms toward it. From their palms came a brilliant, liquid looking white light. The light came upon the vaporous form and lit it to shining white. The third Angel grasped the silvery threads and slowly pulled them off the oriental (looking) woman's back. Her expression... or... what I felt coming from her, changed from something like depressed to hopeful. But 800 years of working in the lower astral plane is not something I would look forward to. Accompanied by Angels, the Oriental looking woman withdrew into a silvery mist, faded, and were gone.
The Angel gently held my shoulder while he inserted the bundle of silver threads into my back. I felt a zing of energy, as the white light from the vaporous body traveled up the silver threads to me. The Angel worked on my back for a while. Then he stepped back. "It is ready" I... felt... it was not spoken. Suddenly, I was aware of breathing, pulsing heart, working digestive system..."
Samirah had to add as a joke, "By gar, it's been a while!"
After both of us chuckled a bit, Samirah continued...
"Then I saw the two angels who were administering the white light slowly cut the white light off. The vaporous form continued to glow brightly.
The Angel that had worked on my back joined the other two Angels. All three smiled at me and, via telepathy, received greetings and blessings.
And then, I was alone. I gazed upon that body, now mine, and kinda wondered what to do next. I felt a pull on my back, and then must have lost consciousness...
Next thing I knew, I was waking up. A sensation I had not felt in years, I began to stretch. First thing I noticed were smells. Not very nice smells; scents of uncleanliness. I heard... a low murmur... of nondescript outside noises... I heard some passing voices... I heard delightful bird calls.
I felt a bit chilly. At last I came to full realization of where I was and what was happening. I was naked. No clothes, no blankets, nothing. First thing I did is search out a blanket, sheet, anything to ward off the chill. Cold air was wafting in from an open window. I couldn't find anything. How about the mattress-sheet, I thought. But there was none, the mattress was bare... and dirty. Encrusted dried spots of, I don't know what, were all over it.
I opened my eyes or tried to. One eye opened partially while the other was stuck shut... with what... dried tears as far as I could determine. Then, a memory came in... from this woman's physical brain. Her name had been, and still was for the time-being, Leslie Soaring-Eagle... more memory... That was her official name. Now, she had a nick-name given by the area guys... Sex-Doll! "Ugh!" I went to myself. Well, she had cried herself to sleep, despondent over the situation of her life and just generally depressed.
Quite contrarily, I felt excited at the prospects before me. Sure it would take work... but soon I would meet Alex, and from descriptions of it, I would be... well am already... living in a land of solar-energy and muscle-energy, clean-aired cities and pedal-cars (enclosed recumbent bicycles) all around just as Alex's imagination had already imparted to me.
But first... Whew!
Fortunately, Leslie's physical brain supplied me with all the nitty-gritty details. I knew where everything was, and how to use them. It had been becoming more and more obvious from Alex's metaphysical studies (which I participated in by being his spirit attachment), that is what the physical brain is for. It is the interface point for the spirit. The brain takes care of thousands of little details of living physically that would busy the spirit to the point of not being able to accomplish any thing else.
The brain supplies memories of where everything is, job-talents, people's and places' names and where they are, and a host of other stuff. The brain provides the control points for the soul, the "driver's seat" if you will, with all the control points necessary to... well... drive the physical body! The physical body is kept charged with life-energy via seven "transformer stations", the seven main chakras and other chakras.
The physical brain supplies memories of what has been happening the past day to up to a few months for really important happenings. But after that, it becomes hazy. Seems like the physical brain has a system of "scrolling out" memories sort of like a "queue-system" of memory usage in a computer. Scrolled-out-memories remain forever in the spirit or energy "memory" of that soul, which, in turn, becomes part of, or is part of, the memory of the entire Universe (Akashic records, "God's memory"). But the scrolling-out-process is not that simple. Important memories stay longer. And talents get recorded in a lower part of the physical brain where they remain until the brain dies. For example, Leslie had been a Pedal-Car Servicer. I suddenly knew how to professionally service pedal-cars even though up to then, I had never seen one (except those in Alex's imagination!)..."
Samirah prattled on for a time about how much Leslie's physical brain assisted in how to initially get along in that new world. Since I already carried on about that earlier in this journal, we'll not go through it again. After Samirah's "lecture" on the use of the physical brain, she continued with what she did, those first few minutes to weeks in my society, or, to her, a new world...
"... So apparently, Leslie Soaring-Eagle had been crying last night; apparently cried until she slept. I went to the bathroom sink and used water to clean my eyes so I could open them.
Fully awake now, I got up and began to explore, at least, where she lived to get my bearings. Much of what I tell you are memories from her brain.
Where she lived was a low-rent apartment in a not-so-good area of a city called Central Capital (yes, just like Alex's imagination)... And it was a mess! A pig sty!
The mattress was encrusted with various spilt food, chocolate (as far as I could tell) and... sexual secretions, both female genital secretions and semen.
The floor was dusty, dirt all over. The bottoms of my bare feet were black. The foot-end of the mattress was dark gray.
My brain registered and I saw a chiffonier... with a mirror. I took my first look at myself. What I saw was at the same time awesome... and revolting...
I was in a most magnificent body! Tall, brown, athletic, powerful! It... I... had broad shoulders with good shoulder-muscle development, hips were wide, thighs were columns of rippling muscle. There was just a bare beginning of a roll of fat around the tummy and over my hips, but not objectionable. Even with the fat, my tummy had abdominal muscles (abs) that stuck out, and as Alex keeps saying, could be used as an old-fashioned wash-board.
But... my body was unkempt! First of all, I was naked, even though had been sleeping. Even such a strong body needs to be covered, or at least, have available, a sheet or something for when it does feel chilly during the night. There was nothing, no sheets, no clothes, not even a pillow to reach for and cover. Her pillow was a piece of dirty packing-foam, too small to offer much warmth.
My crotch was a terrible mess. There were blisters, whelps, and large areas of dried, crusted semen and vaginal juice. My hair on my head also had dried semen in it. And it was dirty, stuck together, stank and my scalp itched. If I scratched the itches, I had to be careful, there were many sores.
I wondered, how did semen get into my hair? Then the physical brain provided me with the memory. Last night were three guys, literally taking turns drilling me. One of them was so sexually aroused, he could not wait. While one guy drilled my genital, the other one shoved his genital into the matting of my hair, and found that sufficient stimulus to produce ejaculation. The second waiting guy saw that, and then did it too. The guy in my genital was taking long to ejaculate because that was his forth time. The other two had just arrived. Finally he dumped his last and the other two got to work on me. I just lay there, depressed, taking it. I (at that time) didn't care. I felt worthless. That was my only use; for men to dump excess semen into when, at the moment, they did not have a better woman to do it with.
My brain also registered memory of many guys who came by, both morning, on the way to work, and evening, on the way home, to dump in me. I was little more that a human masturbation rag, or a toilet. My "services" were free. In this society, men have no need for prostitutes. There is virtually no such thing as prostitution in Shasheer... except for situations like mine. Men, sometimes, would throw me a few pieces of paper money (rarely used in this society). Some occasionally brought fast-food.
I had a job from which I was recently fired for missing so many days and always being over two hours late. The job had been patient with me... I showed up to work something like once every two weeks for two or three months before they fired me. My brain's memory registered I was two months behind on rent and city electricity had already been cut off.
Interestingly, I was not totally without electricity... Almost all apartments, even poor ones, have on their roofs, so called "renter's solar battery panels" and usually, a "renter's solar hot-water collection panel". The battery panels produce only enough electricity for the most meager needs. After that, your "apartment batteries" are kept charged by city electricity. The entire city is run by solar- and wind-derived electricity and hydrogen gas (which behaves like natural gas). Hydroelectric generating stations contribute too. There are NO fossil fuel or nuclear plants anywhere. There are massive solar-panel farms here and there over the city and in the outlying country along with huge acres of colossal wind generators, also in the outlying fields.
Anyway, my city electricity had been cut off for non-payment. But I still had the "renter's batteries" for essentials only. And I had hot water. There should be a tank full of hot water because my physical brain registered the solar hot water was working okay, and I hadn't taken a bath in over a week.
Well! I was going to take care of that right now!!!
I still shivered, there were no blankets and not even any clothes that I could find... or register from memory. All Leslie's clothes were thong bikinis. No tops anywhere. And no coats or sweaters. What does she do for winter? My brain answered... find a job, (every autumn she did this) and use the money to buy winter coats and sweaters and catch up on the rent. She had sold her coats and sweaters (as usual around every spring) for money to buy food. Silly girl, I thought, why doesn't she just keep the coats? She'll just have to buy new ones! So inefficient! But... that's the kind of person we are dealing with here. Depressed. No plans. Planning is for the next few days at most.
At the time I was experiencing this, it was about the equivalent of June or early summer for the particular location of whatever planet this was I found myself. So, I had time to straighten things out before Winter.
I began my shower. All shampoo was gone. I would have to use that dwindling piece of bar soap for my hair.
Indeed, the water was steaming hot. I had to be careful to mix sufficient cold water to keep from scalding myself.
I scrubbed my hair, being careful of the soars. I washed my hair three times! There was a lot of hair to wash. It was black, straight and long, half-way down my back once the matting was removed. I planned on cutting it shorter. The ends where hopelessly tangled and split.
Finally, I began washing my body. It took a great deal of scrubbing to get off all that dried semen and stuff from my vaginal area and crotch in general. I washed once and was going to wash again when I heard a "whomp" at the door. I heard heavy foot-steps. Then I heard, "Sex-Doll! Where are ya! I'm almost late for work..."
I did not say a thing. I was very frightened for half a second until my physical brain registered what this was. He was the first of the morning-guys. Finally, he came in my bathroom.
"Oh! Takin' a shower! First time I ever seen you do that! Oh, I gotta sex!"
And into the shower with me came a towering athlete of a guy, absolutely naked. A gigantic genital throbbed with juice already coming from it and dribbling down. Somehow, I was not that scared, I even knew him, his friends and where he worked. But I was no longer Leslie the "Sex-Doll", I was... me... Samirah! I found this disgusting. But I had to let him do it one more time.
He was a knock-out, I'll have to admit that. Tall, lean, muscular legs, hard rippling butt and powerful arms matched his musclely chest and steel-plate tummy. His hair was smooth gorgeous blond and had sparkling blue eyes.
He came into that shower and lifted me up, and set down on his huge genital... Sex scene description removed ...But, when he was done, he was done. He lifted me off his softening genital and said, "See ya tonight! And keep up your shower! You're so fresh now; before, you were stinky. Bye!"
He stepped out of the shower, used the towel I was going to use to dry himself of my shower-water, and left. I was disgusted!
I bathed two more times to get him off of me and another bathing to reinforce the others. But I got a pressured feeling in the pit of my stomach. My physical brain registered more of those guys would be coming soon. That guy that just left was the early one. Five more would come, close together as they hike to the same factory. Soon after that would be two more on their way to office jobs.
Well, one is one thing. But I, Samirah, was NOT going to be "Sex-Doll" for them any more!
I searched out another towel to dry myself. I almost could not find another one. As I dried myself off, I took another admiring look at myself in the mirror.
"Hmmm, much better!" I thought. I admired my Chinese looking face, long smooth black hair, and tall powerful, athletic body. I took a look at what kind of female genital could have taken the thrashing that guy's genital just gave me..."
More sexy descriptions removed
I heard men's voices. They're coming! Three of them together. "No way!" I thought. I knew where to hide, my physical brain registered, in the same places where I had money hidden away. I never tried before to hide from men, but used the run-down apartment's many holes for hiding things.
Standing on exposed beams in the wall of a back room that had nothing but junk in it and a lot of dust, I climbed into a hole in the ceiling. From there, I climbed into the space between the walls of an up-stairs apartment. Two rat-like things faced me. I spat at them and they ran off. I got comfortable for the wait, I figured an hour would do it.
The three came in looking for me. "Sex-Doll!" they called. One called me "Leslie". "Where is she?" they asked each other. "Maybe the apartment kicked her out for not paying rent!" said one. Another one said, "I told you guys we shoulda paid her rent for her!"
"OH! Well, I gotta sex something!" one groaned. Another said, "Aw, just masturbate on her mattress. I'm going to work. See ya!"
I heard him walk out. The other two remained. One did as the other suggested. I heard my mattress take a pounding and then I heard him wailing in pleasure.
"I'm gonna sex her bikini!" said the other one after I heard the sound of rummaging through the drawers. Again I heard the mattress take a pounding and after a couple minutes, the sound of wailing in pleasure.
Finally, those two left.
Then another two guys came in. They looked and looked, calling out "Sex-Doll". I just held my position.
It wasn't uncomfortable inside that wall, just a little dusty. The rats stayed away. They were scared of me. I sat on a cross beam. Other than a little cramped, it was fine.
They continued to search. "Well somebody's been here! Look at this!"...
"Yeah, somebody dumped his wad! But it's all on the bed. Maybe they didn't find her either."
They searched a little while longer then left. Well, okay, that's the first and largest group of them. About thirty minutes later, those guys commuting to the office should come. I just remained sitting there.
The sit-time did not go to waste. I used it to plan my future. I planned on how I was going to get out of this hole, today, and then planned out the next few weeks. I accessed a lot of common-sense knowledge of the area, society, job situations and even weather patterns out of Leslie's brain which of course now, was my brain. Thank goodness that is the way it works, or I would have been lost!
Well, sure enough, the two guys on their way to the office showed up. They called out "Leslie" and searched for a while. Strange, though my physical brain registers them as office workers, similar to any office you can think of; working with computers, filing, meetings, typing, scanning, and those kinds of things, my brain also registered them as always being dressed in tiny white bikinis on their tall, athletic lean physiques. Would an office worker dress like that? Indeed, it seems Alex's imagination hit the mark on that one. No wonder Alex has a tendency to wear bikinis every chance he gets. It's just habit!
I wished I could see them, but I dared not come out of hiding or make any sounds. There would be plenty of time for "sight-seeing" later.
After they left, my brain provided the memory that there would be no more regulars until noon. There might be an occasional man but my physical memory indicated those are rare during the work-day. Night is the time of unplanned men coming in.
Finally I moved from my place in the wall, slowly and carefully making my way down and out of the hole in the ceiling. One look at the mattress turned my stomach. Two big puddles of semen lay there, and one of my thong bikinis lay soaked, almost covered in one puddle.
My brain registered that I could go out naked in this society, and many people do. But my spirit, the real me, just would not allow it at this time. I searched for any kind of clothing. Her brain registered only thong bikinis, mere mockery of clothing. They consisted of thin cloth that barely covers my genital, with mostly strings on back. Some had a fish-net back. There were no tops anywhere. If I wanted to wear something, a thong would have to do it. That's all there was!
I looked through the drawers, most were empty. All the thongs were in that one top drawer. The only one with a fish-net back that would pretend to cover some butt was scarlet red. I didn't want to wear that color. I sort of wanted to wear white, but two white ones were dry-rotted, one had a hole poked right where it fits over my genital (my brain registered a man did it with his genital) and the only good white one was soaked in semen on the mattress. So I wore a good black one...
I must admit, as I strapped that teensy bit of cloth and strings on, the way it had to journey up my huge expanse of brown muscular legs... and the way the strings had to settle in over my huge prominent hips... and the way that tiny patch of thin cloth settled over that large genital of mine and put light pressure on it... and stuck to it... was genuinely stimulating! I began to not mind the idea of going out so dressed!
I took the rest of the bikinis to take with me for change of... "clothes?"... The whole lot of them were contained easily in my one hand.
I crawled back up into the ceiling through another hole to find my money. My brain registered paper money is not used much any more. Everything is done by computer and purchases done by "credisks", like a credit card but circular, three-quarter inches in diameter. I had one but to a closed account.
She had two pairs of shoes, both bright red and high-heel. Well, they'll have to do, I don't want to go barefoot and risk foot injury, not at this time. So, I wore a pair.
I brushed my hair then, for quite a while. I trimmed it shorter quite a ways; there was no managing the tangles and split ends.
Leslie went out during the day very little. She drank a lot of alcoholics. I felt a bit nauseous every time I looked out the window to the brightness. My brain registered she had been drinking alcoholics last night. Well, that would stop NOW! But, for the time being, I found the sun-glasses my brain told me she had, because, I would surely need them.
The paper money, bikinis, the other pair of high-heels and a few meager pieces of jewelry, most of it plastic, one pretty nice of glass, was all my luggage I carried as I bid that apartment farewell.
I hesitated for one more look at myself in the mirror. WOW! I couldn't believe it was me. Well, actually, no one's physical body is what that person is. It is a biological vehicle used for expression and evolution of the soul as it is done on the physical plane. It is almost like getting into a car. If you drive a Ferrari, people will think of you one way, if you drive a Volkswagen beetle, people will think of you another way, if you drive a Lincoln Town-Car, they'll think of you yet another way. It is the same thing with what body you are in.
Well, whatever; but I could not help but admire my physical appearance now. Tall, athletic, wash-board abs (though just a bit smoothed over, but that would change too), huge powerful thighs, big, steel curvaceous butt, big breasts, nice squared off shoulders, muscles in my arms and sexy Oriental face. I combed my smooth hair just a little more. It shined with a bluish halo. "Wow! Wait 'till Alex sees me!" I thought. I tried on the sun-glasses and took another look. "Wow!" I thought to myself one more time, "I'll make poor helpless Alex my sex-slave!"
Finally, finally I tore myself from that mirror and left.
The only nice possession I had was my pedal-car. Now here is where my physical brain really saved me a lot of orientation woes. I knew where my pedal-car was; in one of a series of cubbyholes in a run-down shack behind the apartment. I found the keys to unlock the cubbyhole-door. I knew which number of cubbyhole. And, I knew how to squirm into a pedal-car, adjust the pedals and seat and change the gears. It was all there, everything I needed.
So I went on out the door, high-heels clacking away. I walked well in them; surprised me. In Iran, I never dared wear high-heels. They would have put me in jail for a hundred years! So I knew nothing about wearing them. But, I forgot, Leslie's brain supplies all habits and talents.
I kind of liked this! I held my shoulders back and bare breasts way out and walked with a slight hip sway. The cool breeze caressed all that bare skin on me. There was a mild sexy feeling and I felt my nipples raise and harden and my genital felt just a bit moist.
As I walked on to the run-down building that housed the pedal-car cubbyholes, I heard a cat-call-whistle and some guy from an apartment window say, "Whooee! Lookin' sharp! What's up, Sex-Doll?"
I didn't like that name, but, no matter. I replied, "I'm going on a job interview!"
"Good for you! Good luck!" he replied and went back in the window.
"Good heavens, a job interview" I thought to myself. "Why did my brain come up with... hmmm..."
My brain registered, how I was dressed right now is not too far from how one would dress for most jobs which was surprising due to my near nudeness. There might be some office jobs or managerial positions where it might be best to wear a bikini with a little more coverage and maybe no high-heels, but that's about it. As far as interviewing for pedal-car Servicer positions are concerned, no problem. One can go in naked for those. My brain registered that all service centers are crying for pedal-car Servicers. "Great!" I thought, "With my reputation, I'm going to need an "employee's market"" I thought.
As I unlocked the cubbyhole and drew out my nice looking, deep-maroon pedal-car (sold to me at greatly reduced price by a male pedal-car service shop manager) my mind raced away with plans and decisions...
This walking around barely dressed in a thong bikini was cool, and I planned on doing it maybe, on days off in... well, maybe not so public places. And with Alex! But I really wanted to change my look. I planned to go all the way to the other side of the Central Capital to look for pedal-car Servicer positions and find an apartment. But first, I was thinking about a certain fad, or... movement... of some kind started apparently, by the race of people of whom I am a member.
As Alex has already pointed out, there are two races and I was obviously of the Betaqh Race. Among that race, a sort of spiritualist movement was going on. They believe indulgence in sex is rampant and run-away here... and it is! Among the ways they suggest to slow it down some is the wearing of very conservative, shape-hiding clothes.
Now, I don't know where this planet is... It may be in the next star-system close to earth, or it might be zillions of light-years away in a far-off galaxy, far out of reach by the most powerful optical or radio telescope, or somewhere in between. But here has developed, a conservative clothing style so close to the Middle Eastern hijab and abaya, that one can only conclude that there is indeed, a Grand Universal Law for the whole physical Universe, no matter where one might be within it. Indeed, there is one God or, if you wish, "Prime Creative Force", who drives everything in the entire Universe, seen and unseen.
Some people here (in Shasheer) feel those who wear the hijab and abaya are somewhat extreme and maybe stuck up. Some social commentators here classify it as merely a new style of clothing. Well, what ever it is, I felt that was the clothing for me.
I left the service-way of that apartment and into the street. I headed my pedal-car straight to the nearest fine store that catered to the new clothing style I knew about.
(And of course, it was what used to be Leslie's brain that had that information. Attached to that bit of knowledge was the stigma, "The Stuck-Up Store". Well, I would soon be changing that...)
By the way, I will just call them hijab (the head-piece) and abaya (the robe part), the Arabic terms for them. As this is coming to you from another language anyway, they have their words for it, which henceforth shall be translated into: Hijab and abaya.
Well, there I was, in a pedal-car, pedaling down some street in what used to be, what we thought was, Alex's imagination! I couldn't believe it! I thought, wait 'till Alex sees this! Wait 'till Alex sees this!
It kind of dawned on me suddenly... I had been so busy planning and deciding I had not noticed... Not to mention, Leslie's brain had everything I needed to get along in this world, already in place and well practiced...
By the way, it is interesting however; I noticed there was always a small delay. For example, I would ask in thought, "Now how do I do such and such" or "where is something-or-other" and always, maybe a half second later, the "knowing" would cascade into my consciousness. I would assume Neurologists, Psychiatrists and those who study Metaphysics would be interested in the partitioning of duties of the physical brain and the spirit's "knowledge-banks"... But... since this journal comes from what the society of that world will consider "an obscure and unreliable source", it will most likely be ignored. Otherwise, these experiences could be useful input to the above mentioned fields of studies. Oh well...
So, it dawned on me suddenly, that here I am, doing something that Alex would, well, as he has said in a number of places on his web-site, give ANYTHING for!
Here is a society that has built in to it, a life style and infrastructure that includes such healthful exercise as this! Think of it! No more exercise clubs! No more time set aside for lengthy exercises, either at home or a club. You can eat all you like. You must eat well, because this life-style burns tons of calories!
There are few exceptions where obesity can strike... Certain people who live way in the boonies working at home and never go out, certain other kinds of "shut-ins", and, my own body's situation when Leslie had it...
She hardly ever went out, during the warmer seasons anyway; just a little strolling around at night looking for sex. She ate sweets, chocolates, and drank alcoholics but did little exercise. There's the source of the beginnings of rolls of fat just over my hips, and in my tummy if I stooped over. I will change that, of course. Thank goodness the trade resulting in my "walk-in" into this body occurred no later than it did! Another couple of years and I believe Leslie would have just plain been fat. (According to Spirit Guides and her own Higher Self, she was near committing suicide anyway, so she may have never reached the "fat-stage".)
So there I was, in a deep maroon pedal-car, easily zipping along a street. The speedometer read units you readers are unfamiliar with, but my physical brain translated it into symbology my spirit understands, enabling me, therefore, to tell you my speed was something like 38 to 42 miles per hour. A combination of superb streamlining of the pedal-car and my huge, rippling thigh muscles made that speed possible.
It's very different from riding a bicycle. The pedal-car puts you low to the ground in a very stable stance, you are almost reclining and the body of the pedal-car protects you from all weather except heat... which this place has very little of.
The way a pedal-car is arranged makes it appear to have a long front-end. The "engine" under that "hood" is your legs. Sitting in a pedal-car, I can see just over the hood; plenty of good visibility from the "head-bubble", the raised part of the pedal-car that accommodates your head and seeing out. If the rider looks down, they can generally see the thighs of their legs working away...
Well, so there I went again... I looked down and saw my big muscular brown thighs rippling their muscles! My muscles flexed and looked so powerful! It was so fascinating to watch, I nearly crashed three times, two times almost rear-ending somebody. Man! One can have a wreck in a pedal-car too; better believe it!
But... for all my powerful great legs... I was passed. Passed! Again and again. I pedaled a bit faster. My thighs began to burn. "Mmm! That's it! This Leslie laying around drunk and getting sexed all the time never exercised; she's probably out of shape compared to these other people." I thought to myself. "Oh well, it want take long!" I reassured myself.
And I found out, that knock-out body I had was not unique. My heavens, all women here have knock-out bodies! As I pedaled, I saw some people strolling. Most were blond or light-colored-hair types called Taqh Race. But some were like me, Betaqh. The Taqh women were so tall, muscular and very powerful! And lean! No fat at all, anywhere! Some of them were out and out massive, with crushing powerful builds. I thought, no man is going to harass them, that's for sure!
If anything, a man might have to worry about being harassed by the Taqh women. They have an insatiable desire for sex and will sex anywhere. I passed a park and saw some of them, naked, with their guys and usually over them, their big butts flying up and down in open, unashamed, full-blown sex. They don't try to hide, they merely do it to the side of the trail or whatever. And I saw more than one masturbating on a tree's limb or the back of a park bench. And boy can they scream! I could hear it even in my pedal-car with the whir-whir-whir of my pedaling.
Anyway, I didn't worry too much about those Taqh women a whole lot because they were kinda monsterish and I didn't think Alex would go for them other than to just be fascinated. It was those Betaqh gals that got to me!
The Betaqh women were dressed cool! Some had long skirts split all the way to the waist. Their legs were hard, muscles rippled, and their tummies, if showing, were wash-board bumpy and steel-plate hard. Their tummies looked like you could strike them with a hammer and their tummy would go "ding!"! If you struck my tummy at that moment, you'd get a "plop" sound and I'd bend over in pain. "Well", thought I, "I'll soon be changing that!"
It quickly became apparent, the Betaqh race dresses more conservatively than the larger, blond Taqh race. Taqh men and women often go out naked. If they wear anything at all its only g-strings and thong-bikinis. They were naked or nearly so but the women wore this and that jewelry and occasionally, high-heel shoes.
Betaqh women wore that split skirt I mentioned, usually had some kind of top on, and quite a few, wore hijab and abaya! I did not see any Betaqh women in high-heel shoes.
So... It looked like I was dressed a bit extreme for a Betaqh woman. Oh well, that's what I'm changing.
"Here it is" I thought to myself, as that fine store that catered to the hijab and abaya wearing crowd pulled into sight. The store faced a park and was shaded by trees. It was in what appeared to be suburbs. The store was lone-standing, not connected to other buildings, mall or any shopping center.
I swung my pedal car to their tree shaded parking lot which was behind the store. I found myself between two rows of dual-level cubbyholes; pedal-car parking. Off to the side of the parking lot was some kind of small building or something that appeared to have bays for driving the pedal-car into... I didn't know what it was; I assumed it to be some kind of pedal-car service facility although my physical brain disagreed with me. But I was too excited about buying new clothes to think more of it.
I clamored out of my pedal-car a little moist with sweat. The dry air on my bare skin felt cool and refreshing. I rolled the pedal-car into a ground-level cubbyhole... And locked its door with a pad-lock that, once again, my brain, trained by Leslie, had knowledge of where it was (in an almost hidden side-pocket near the pedal-car seat) all ready to go.
I must confess to becoming just a bit sexually aroused as I walked confidently, high-heels clacking, bare breasts way out in the cool air, hips swaying and muscle-butt jiggling. Between my legs my thong felt a bit damp against my genital and was clinging. Across the street, two tall blondes, totally naked, strolled along. Wow! I was in equal company!
Walking fast and strong, I walked to the front of that store, swung around to the front, on to the entrance, pulled the door open... And for all I could tell I passed a dimensional barrier back to Earth and Iran... or maybe, not so strict a country... Egypt perhaps, or Saudi Arabia... some place fairly strict about wearing the hijab and abaya but where at least you have a choice of colors and styles.
Heads on the Floor Persons and a couple customers all turned after I came whooshing in. I was two square inches from naked. ALL of them were as covered as anything I saw back in Iran, just more colorful! There was a male Floor Person, a Betaqh Race, dressed in the monk's robe. The lady Floor Person was a Betaqh Race as well and wore all white, from hijab to abaya including shiny white borders. I thought it kind of nice. The two customers browsing around were both Betaqh Women, all covered in hijab and abaya. One wore a dark turquoise abaya with white hijab and the other wore all black, from hijab to abaya. (Wow, just like Iran! But a shinier, prettier black.) Boy did I feel embarrassed!
But what a difference in attitude! The two customers smiled while the lady Floor Person came up to me saying, simply, "Hi young lady! You plan to begin wearing more? We have what you need. I can show you something nice!"
In Iran, I would have been carted off to jail for a hundred years amongst jeering and taunting. And that's even if that person wants to change her ways!
And that is exactly what I don't understand about Islam in Iran. They seem bent on making people, especially women, suffer. Islam is NOT about slapping people in jail left and right, or shooting or beheading them left and right! NO! Islam is all about helping people; helping those that are struggling, and gently teaching the good news of Almighty God! And under the law of Islam, men and women are EQUAL!
Ach! All the Iranian government is, are a bunch of stuck up, uneducated, in-bred, narrow-minded, women-hating crotchety old men! They are about as Islamic as... a prostitute! Oh well... I'm a billion light years away from that, Thanks and Praise to GOD!
But... I must say I was embarrassed! However, the Floor Person quickly soothed me with her kind voice as she began showing me delightfully colored abayas and hijabs.
Funny, she was going to sell me a "training-hijab" due to the fact she assumed I was doing this for the first time. A training-hijab is not much more than a big, ornate hood that sort of zips up. I liked the big-scarf kind; the type one sort of wraps. At first I thought they maybe didn't have it, after all, I'm a zillion light-years away from Iran! But she was wearing one as were the two other shoppers. I asked for the wrapping kind, to her surprise.
I took my selection of clothes to a dressing room. When I began to wrap the hijab, I suffered a moment's hesitation... I forgot how! But only for a few seconds. I closed my eyes and "went inward". Got it! This time my knowledge for something came from my spirit and subconscious, not the physical brain. You can bet your boots, for sure Leslie didn't know anything about wrapping a hijab!
So, another interesting demonstration of physical-brain/spirit cooperation in storing knowledge.
When I put the abaya on, I took off my thong bikini... which was quite damp with female genital secretions I noticed, and it was obvious. That embarrassed me a bit to think they, in the store, may have seen that. I was glad to take off the thong... it pressed into my genital slightly, stimulating it, making me slightly sexually aroused. It's just like if you guys were to keep brushing a feather over your genital; it would slightly arouse you.
So underneath the abaya, I was naked. "So?" you may ask, "aren't we all "naked" underneath our clothes?" Well, not necessarily. Many folks wear underwear. And in Iran, it is against the law to go out wearing only one's hijab and abaya. There's supposed to be pants and other stuff underneath it. Well, not here. As a matter of fact, I did ask the Floor Lady if the hijab and abaya was all there was. I assumed there would be all kinds of stuff underneath and so on. Looking puzzled, she replied, "no, just these; that's enough, isn't it?". I agreed! But oh! Not in many Middle East countries!
They are not that hard to put on. To put on the abaya, just slip it over head, raising one's arms. It gently slips on down. Then one arranges it a bit and it's good to go! The hijab must be wrapped and arranged but, that's no big deal either once you get the hang of it; it is sort of like you guys learning to tie a dress-tie.
I did keep having to remind "Leslie's brain" the first few times I wrapped the hijab, though. Funny feeling that was. Strange too, I couldn't be under pressure or in public; I had to be in a quiet place where I could close my eyes and momentarily drift into blackness... and snatch the memory as an automatic procedure. It was a kind of quickie self-hypnosis!
Once I was walking along going to my first job interview, when I walked under a low hanging branch of a tree hanging low over the sidewalk. Zip! Off went my hijab, snatched by the branch! I pulled it off and began wrapping it... but amongst the hubbub, the noise, the other people and all, I just could not remember how to do it. So I just folded the hijab and walked along until I came upon a secluded little spot between a bush and a building. Ducking behind the bush, it was shady and quiet. I closed my eyes and did my self-hypnosis thing, and sure enough... Got it! I went on to the job interview properly dressed... I guess... Everyone in there was naked or dressed in thongs or g-strings.
And that brings me to my primary concern, getting a job, which for me, meant pedal-car service. I job hunted the old-fashioned way... pounding the pavement. I just walked from place to place, going in and talking to the Manager or Boss.
Indeed I did a huge amount of walking... and riding a rickshaw... they call them hand-cars... OH! I gotta explain something! Again! I found it out as soon as I left the store wearing a shimmering green abaya with snow-white hijab and carrying another dark-blue abaya with snow-white hijab... well, white hijabs are cooler!
With the abaya flowing gracefully behind me and making me feel more at home... I walked on back to the pedal-car parking. I unlocked the cubbyhole, pulled the pedal-car out and began to get in... oops! Like uh... no way!
There was no way I could enter; well I could enter with great difficulty, but then pedaling would definitely be impossible.
Hmmm!
Both my physical brain and spirit knowledge failed on this one!
Leslie's brain certainly had no information on it, and in Iran, there were no such thing as pedal-cars and I never rode a bicycle (not allowed, for women... stupid idiots!).
Then, slowly, my physical brain began to register bits and pieces of what Leslie had heard of what she considered "stuck-up miss-prissies". Though her disgust was attached to each bit of knowledge I pulled out of her brain, I did finally get the picture...
And that's what that... facility is on the corner...
Alex has already explained it. These facilities are all over town and in many parks and more are being built every day. They cater to this conservative clothing movement of the Betaqh Race.
Basically: The Betaqh Women and Men pedal to a location while naked or nearly so. Pull into (in the pedal-car) a bay of one of these facilities, deposit coins to close door for up to 15 minutes, get out, shower if necessary, dress in hijab and abaya (or "monks" robe for men) open door, exit and park pedal-car.
For parks, the Betaqh lady or man will picnic, stroll around or take rides in the hand-cars (rickshaws) pulled by big strong blond amazons.
In town, the Betaqh lady will ride a hand-car from store to store. The pedal-car is parked in one of many pedal-car parking centers all over town. Each center includes several privacy bays for showering and changing clothes.
Lone standing stores like the one I was just in have their own facility with just two or three bays.
Well...
At this point, I had already skipped the arrival part of it. So I just stripped my abaya and hijab. I was fully naked then, but there was no one who cared in sight. (In the distance were two naked blond ladies strolling; I don't think they would mind! I was concerned only with Betaqh people of the new movement.)
Well, back to the job hunting...
I did as described above. I drove the pedal-car to the other side of town to a location fairly centralized to where I wanted to search, used the privacy-bay-facility, parked the pedal-car, and started out walking looking for jobs.
This is where those big strong amazons pulling the hand-cars really came in handy.
Dressed in next to nothing, their huge, tall muscular bodies whisk the hand-car at pretty good speeds from place to place. I had no idea where the pedal-car service centers were in this side of town, but they did. All I had to do is explain to her I am looking for pedal-car Servicer jobs. She nodded her head, smiled and knew where to go. I had to pay the Puller to wait for me while I was inside interviewing so she wouldn't leave with another customer, leaving me to wait.
Within one day, I walked into some fifteen pedal-car service shops while the big, blond Puller named Gail must have logged over 20 miles. And that's walking or running miles. A Puller simply walks or trots, pulling the hand-car behind her.
I saw three places twice each at different times. It really is an Employee's market... most of the time. Some are kind of picky-picky about what kind of person they will hire.
In a couple of places, I think my hijab and abaya actually voided me out. Gail the Puller was pretty good at helping avoid most places like that. But, she missed on a few. Run by bitchy, big blond and naked Taqh Race women, they look upon Betaqh women who wear the new clothes-style with disdain.
I wouldn't want to work in those kinds of places anyway. The boss is a big, muscular blond bitch who just wants to sex with the all-male Servicers all day. Another place was a little better, at least they had Lady Servicers... but all Taqh Race and buck naked. But the strong loving Hand of Loving God was guiding me...
I became employed at a pedal-car service center run by a Betaqh Lady wearing a light beige abaya with white hijab. (I thought that outfit was really pretty, and wished I had bought one for myself. Oh well...)
I spent the night at a facility that doubled as an apartment and hotel. I stayed in the hotel rooms for a few days while I "stabilized" my new job.
Leslie's brain pulled through just fine! I was a bit slow at first, but I was surprised at how well I could get in to a dysfunctional pedal-car and get it repaired, first-class. The Betaqh Lady manager helped me quite a bit. The other Servicers ranged from dressed in gray "work-abaya" to thong bikinis. One Servicer was a Betaqh lady who normally dressed in a nice hijab and abaya, but at work, she wore only a thong and went topless. I did the same at first, until I too purchased a gray "work-abaya". Working in a thong bikini was kind of neat, but I really felt most natural in an abaya.
Serious apartment hunting began after a week. I searched on a weekend and several work-day evenings after getting off from work. Then I found that place described above when Alex went home the first time with me. It's tranquillity and splendid view was irresistible. Despite having to commute 15 miles to work, I loved it.
After settling in, I went to a legal center and began a procedure to officially change my name from Leslie Soaring-Eagle to Samirah Silver-Dove. I chose "Silver-Dove" because... well, that's what Alex was calling me in his stories... and I liked it. Also... I'm thinking about, how in the dickens is he going to find me when he gets here! I hope he'll think of looking up Samirah Silver-Dove.
And yes, quite naturally, I'll go by Samirah! That's who I have been introducing myself as, everywhere.
I had to write an official reason why I was changing my name. I wrote of the squalor I used to live in. One can be honest with these people. They are not so judgmental as American or especially, Iranian societies. They understand a man or woman finally turning from physical indulgence to a way closer to God. The procedure went smoothly. So then, henceforth, my name officially was as I was introducing myself anyway, Samirah Silver-Dove.
Everything was well after that. Weeks became months and everything became routine enough for me to relax. The only change is when I started working for Big Brenda. She paid more (60% of labor rather than 48%) and was closer to commute to.
By the way, I bought a new pedal-car soon after starting work for Brenda. Brenda told me a customer saw my pedal-car and thought it was a used one for sale and wanted it very much. I thought to myself a change of pedal-cars would be good to further deepen my change from Leslie to Samirah. So, I traded the deep-maroon one for a brand-new light-blue and white pedal-car of high quality that Brenda gave me a great deal on.
Commuting that 15 miles each way to the farther job annihilated my rolls of fat. After a couple months, they were GONE! And my legs became large and supple, rippled with powerful muscle and were hard as steel. That job's commute served as "shock-treatment" to get me back in the running with other Betaqh Race women. And thus, also, it further distanced me from Leslie's squalor..."
...
Return To Story Samples