Hi, my name was Chris. I was the son of Gene, the white supremacist cult leader. Leslie gave him his just desserts in turning him into a black woman named Genevieve. See the story entitled “Gene Therapy”. You see he wasn’t just a racist but was a male chauvinist as well. So, his change from a white he into a black she was truly fitting. It was just sad that after a week as an Ethiopian woman, she totally forgot who she had been. Up until that point she was totally revolted by what she had become and was in absolute terror of being killed by her cult followers. I was forced to be in the cult by my father. It started when I was five years old and continued until I was ten years old and ended suddenly when Gene became Genevieve.

Gene was my handler. He programmed me. I became multiple as a result of his sexual abuse, his threats, both to me and to my mother and sister, his torture, both electric shocks and waterboarding. He learned the mind-splitting techniques, breaking me into parts or alters, from an institution that used MK Ultra. You would recognize the institute. They, among many institutions, had been chosen by an intelligence arm of the government to perfect what had once been known as Project Bluebird, then as Project Artichoke, and finally as MK Ultra or Mind Kinetics Ultra. I was programmed to not only be a sex machine for the cult, but to be a duplicate of my father to carry on the cult, and to be an assassin. I know that sounds unbelievable.

My father was of Scandinavian descent. He formed a Nordic white supremacist cult devoted to the fertility goddess, Frigga, who was the consort of Odin. It may seem strange that my father chose to be a follower of Frigga, being a male chauvinist, rather than being a follower of Odin. There are lots of things that I understand about my handler, but this one is a mystery to me. Odin is portrayed by Marvel Studios’ movies as being a decent guy, but he has a dark and malevolent side. A significant number of prison inmates across the USA are Odinists, and they aren’t drawn to him because of his charm. Frigga, his consort, was of the same ilk. Therefore, the cult rituals were a powerful mix of sex and violence, all too like horror movies.

I have parts or alters that hate my father and some that are loyal to him. But I definitely hated the men in the cult who also abused me, and I hated their bodies. I hated my own body because it was too much like theirs. I was female inside and, at the age of five, I erected a female idol in my heart that I worshipped. She was fashioned after the likeness of Frigga, as I had seen her in the cult ceremonies. There was another good reason why I was a girl inside. My mother had lost her first child, a daughter, and was not allowed to see or hold her during the four days that she lived. When I was born, my Mommy dressed me in girls’ clothes, let my hair grow long, and called me by my older sister’s name. We bonded in that formative way.

There were nine nights through the year that the cult would meet in a clearing on a wooded mountainside. Four were on the equinoxes and the solstices, one on All Hallowed Eve, and the other four between the five. My father would begin the ritual ceremonies by invoking the name of Frigga. She would appear as a naked woman, hovering above the flames of the firepit in the center of the clearing. Frigga, an exquisitely pretty woman, would speak mellifluous words, turning slowly to face each naked family grouping, all ten. Then she would turn the meeting over to my father and disappear. He in turn would elaborate on her words and then lead the assembly in an hours-long sex orgy, ending the late night or early morning with violence.

I spent four decades cross-dressing, dreaming of going through transition, always imagining myself as a lesbian. But I never saw a healthcare provider and a mental health professional with expertise in gender-affirming care. At eighteen I got married and had three children. I could not bring myself to do what would lead to our separation and divorce, hurting my wife and our children. I also feared the church leadership. I know it doesn’t make any sense that I would have anything to do with God after sexual and ritual abuse in the home, the church, and the cult. So, I eventually found myself at the age of 71, total frustrated, but still fantasizing about being a girl, a woman. Little did I know that my life was about to take a drastic turn.

When I was middle-aged, the suppressed memories of the abuse and the cult began to surface. I was in the process of seeing a counselor about my cross-dressing and fantasies, when the words just popped out of my mouth, without any forethought, “My father abused me!” That was the beginning of over two decades of suppressed memories coming back. It was eight years in that I finally broke off relations with my parents, because they would not admit that the sexual abuse had occurred. My father controlled my mother, so that she would not acknowledge anything. It was two months later that memories of the ritual abuse began to surface, and I had to contact the county sheriff. Nothing came of it. That was seventeen years ago.

Then about six months ago, I couldn’t sleep, so I finally got out of bed and went downstairs. I sat down in my rocking chair in the living room. The only light was coming from a kitchen nightlight. I said out loud, “If only I was young again, I would do it.” Suddenly, Frigga was standing in front of me, the same exquisite beauty that she had been in the clearing 61 years before. As then, she was naked, and a soft glow came from her body, so that she was completely visible. I said, “Are you Frigga?” She replied, “I am.” I asked, “Why are you here?” She said, “I have come in answer to your statement. I can bring it to pass, if you fall down and worship me.” I replied, “You mean that if I worship you, you will make me young again?” “No.”

“You say no. Does that mean you won’t make me young again?” She said, “No, I mean that I will both make you young again and make you a female.” I immediately remembered the command, “You shall have no other gods before Me.” I rationalized, “This isn’t a god, but rather a goddess.” The temptation was too great for me. I immediately left my chair and fell down at her feet, grasping her ankles. They were soft and warm. “Your heart’s desire is granted.” I suddenly felt long hair about my face and weight on my chest. I sat up and put my hands inside my bathrobe. There I cupped two ample breasts that had to be D in size. “Oh, thank you …” I stopped short. My voice was higher and feminine. I looked up at her. She smiled and vanished.

I instantly got up and went into the half bath. I switched on the light. There, staring back at me, was a young lady. She had to be eighteen or thereabouts. She was blonde with blue eyes and beautiful. But the look on her face reminded me of the smile I had seen on Frigga’s face, just before she vanished. She had had a smirk on her face. This girl staring back at me had the same expression. She smirked. I could feel the twist in my mouth. What was this all about? And suddenly I had the thought, “I’m a damned good assassin.” Oh no! I thought. But suddenly the memories of carrying out several hits came into my mind. I knew how to use a handgun with a silencer. I was horrified, but, at the same time, proud of my accomplishments.

I tried to divert my thinking. What was I going to tell Carolyn, my wife? What was I going to tell my children, grandchildren, and friends? How was I going to get a driver’s license, birth certificate, and social security number? Suddenly I had thoughts of exactly who to contact to get all these forms of ID made, including a passport. Then I came to the realization that Frigga would want this sort of violence out of me. It was the sort of thing that my father, Gene, had programmed me to do. Why I had never acted on it before, I couldn’t say. But the desire to make another kill was getting stronger. Suddenly the thought popped into my head to knock Carolyn off. I couldn’t follow through on that. I had to fight the urge. I had to get out of the house fast.

I went back upstairs and quietly got undressed in the dark. I hung up my bathrobe. Before grabbing my sweats, because I knew nothing would fit my new figure, I felt inside my shorts. Yes, my male equipment was gone and in its place was a vagina. I tried putting on my sweatpants, but the legs were several inches too long. I must be shorter than my 5’-9” in my former body. I rolled the cuffs up to my ankles. With what I thought were size D breasts, I would not fit in Carolyn’s bra, a size B. I found my sweatshirt and pulled it on. I had to pull my sleeves up. The thought to go get a knife was strong. I pushed it down. I tried Carolyn’s sneakers, and they fit loosely. I then got all the cash out of the safe. Then I quietly went out the front door.

It had to be 1 or 2 am. What was I going to do? It couldn’t be safe for a young woman, even a teenager, to be walking the streets in the middle of the night. Then it hit me. I knew martial arts, Muay Thai and Jiu-Jitsu. How on earth did this young girl know how to do so much? Then the thought came that I had been trained by a black ops paramilitary organization. The black ops program that I was a part of was called Crescent Moon. I headed out of the suburbs towards the shopping mall. It wouldn’t open for eight hours, but I could get a cup of coffee and a croissant at one of the 24-hour fast-food places. When the mall opened, I would get a bra, panties, a couple changes of clothes, and some shoes. Then I would head to Chicago.

Amber, that was my name, was on a mission. I was planning on going to Chicago, first, to meet with Mr. T to get new IDs, and second, to meet with Mr. M to obtain new weaponry. But before that I needed to contact New York so that they could wire me some money and also give me a new target. The location of the target would tell me which passports and visas I would need, if any. It would also tell me whether I needed to obtain the weapons here or abroad. I now knew that I was Amber Ambrose, and that I was 21, not 18. How was I going to keep myself from carrying out my next assignment? The inner drive was strong, and I could not tell if I had enough willpower to resist my inner urges. Why did I lay all this groundwork and not resist?

Once I got to Chicago by bus, I took a taxi to theWit Hilton Hotel. Once I was checked in, I went shopping for nice clothes, cosmetics, and luggage. My target was a Middle Eastern head of state who was standing in the way of progress for the little country. Instead of flying to Washington DC, I went to the consulate in Chicago. I was able to get my passport and tourist visa all in one day. I flew out of Chicago via New York’s JFK and arrived at my destination in Dubai of the UAE. I checked into the Hilton. I then contacted a certain advisor to Sheikh Mohamed bin Zayed Al Nahyan, who was standing in the way of progress there. By way of introduction, I represented myself as an unofficial representative of the State Department. Yes, I was in.

Because of the tight security there, a handgun was out of the question. I opted instead for a poison-tipped hatpin that I carried on my person. It was everything that I could do to keep myself from actually killing this advisor. Instead, I represented the basic facts to him, albeit if he did not arrange the appearance of his own assassination, and quietly disappear, he would be assassinated. His own government had ordered the hit. He was quite upset, to say the least, but he took my words at face value, since I gave him very specific details. If he did not follow my instructions to the letter, I would be a very dead assassin, but thankfully he carried out his “assassination” perfectly, and I was free to live yet another day or two at the least.

I continued to live on the edge, denying myself the satisfaction of a hit, for several months, until, with the help of a target, I arranged my own death. With the aid of my own training and resourcefulness, I dropped off the grid and took up the profession of teaching martial arts. I was quite successful at it and lived very comfortably. I still had to sit firmly on top of my urges to kill, but I valued human life, and so it was not too hard. I found a soul mate in a girl my age, Laura. She and I became good lovers and began a wonderful life together. I still keep expecting another visit from Frigga, but so far she has not appeared. I can only imagine that she is not very happy with me for resisting the urges that she placed within me. My fingers are crossed.

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Goddess Frigga's Revenge

Author:

Fine Crystal

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

500 < Short Story < 7500 words

Genre:

Transformations

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

Reluctant

TG Elements:

Bizarre Body Modifications

Other Keywords:

Bizarre Body Modifications

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Hi, my name is Amber Ambrose. If you read “Nordic Goddess Frigga” you would know that I was the son of Gene, a white supremacist cult leader. You would also know that at the age of 71, Frigga heard my statement that, if I were young again, I would go through transition to be a woman. She made me a beautiful 21-year-old blonde with blue eyes. But there was a twist. She placed me in the body of a black ops paramilitary assassin. It was everything that I could do to keep from killing people. Frigga was not happy with me when I settled into a comfortable life as a martial arts instructor. Unknown to me she thought up a nasty form of revenge that would be horribly difficult for me to live with. She came to visit me one night.

It was about 10 o’clock in the evening. I was relaxing in my rocker with a mug of chai latte. I only had one lamp on for reading my book, “The Hobbit”, when in a dark corner Frigga materialized. She was nude, as before, but, instead of a smile, she had a serious look on her face. I put my mug and book down on the lampstand and stood up to face her. She said, “You have failed me. I made you to be an assassin and you pushed down the urges to kill. I will not be mocked. I will give you the shape you deserve.” Suddenly my body began to swell. Thankfully I was barefoot. I was expanding like a balloon. I cried out in alarm as my body became so heavy that I could hardly stand. My clothes were in shreds. Frigga laughed and vanished.

I stood there in shock. My body was so huge that I couldn’t see my feet. My hands and arms were really big. I brought my hands up to my face. It was bloated and I had a large double chin. I began to cry and then sob. What was I going to do? I couldn’t teach martial arts like this. How was I going to go out and buy new clothes to fit myself? I squeezed into the half bath, turned the light on, and stared at myself. I thought about weighing myself, but I wouldn’t be able to see my weight. Then I thought of using a hand mirror. The scale maxed out at 400 pounds. I was in a huge mess. I went to bed and covered my naked body with a blanket. I cried myself to sleep. In the morning, I woke up very depressed and was in despair. What could I do?

After getting some coffee and thinking about my situation, I called a plus-size store. I told the lady on the phone of my dilemma. “I am a young woman weighing about 400 pounds and someone stole all my clothes while I was in the shower as a nasty prank. Can you come to my house with bras, panties, dresses, and shoes?” She said, “Yes, for an extra fee of $100, I can make a house call, but we don’t sell shoes. What bra size do you wear?” I took a guess and said, “I use either a K or L size cup.” She said, “I can be at your home in about two hours. Where do you live?” I gave her the address. I sat down and cried again. “What am I going to do about all my students? All their phone numbers are at the gym!” I broke down in tears once more.

My phone began to ring time and again as students or their parents called to see where I was. Why wasn’t I at the gym? Time and again I explained that I was sick with Covid and would not be able to teach for a week. Most were kind and understanding and a few were not. The problem was that the phone calls would keep coming all week long. But I was determined to keep as many of my clients as possible, though I had no idea what I would do after the week was up. But then an idea started to form in my mind, and I toyed with it for a while, in between phone calls that is. There was just a glimmer of hope in my thoughts, but I would need to get on the Internet and do some research. It seemed a bit far-fetched, but I was desperate.

I wrapped myself up in a couple of blankets and waited for the woman from the plus-size store. I had failed to ask her name. Two-and-a-quarter hours after I had called the store the doorbell rang. I looked out the peephole and saw a middle-aged woman standing there with a couple boxes on the sidewalk. I opened the door and asked her to come in. “Hi, my name is Amber.” She said, “My name is Maggie.” She brought the boxes in and then said, “Well, Amber, take off those blankets and let me measure you.” I stood naked before her. She measured me. My figure was 70-60-70. I would need a size 5XL dress. My bra size was a 46L. Maggie had a few bras, panties, and dresses that would fit. I would have to go to the shoe store barefoot. Oh well.

With my 5’-4” height and my figure, well, I checked online, and the AI said that I could comfortably fit in most cars. It said that the ingress and egress would be a bit challenging. So, I got up the nerve to go outside to my SUV and hoped like crazy that none of the neighbors would see me and ask awkward questions. I had some difficulty getting into the car and I hoped I would be able to get back out. Suddenly, my next-door neighbor, John, walked out and came up to my car window. I rolled it down. “Hey, what are you doin’? This is Amber’s SUV.” I said, hoping that my voice changed some with the extra weight, “I’m a friend of Amber, from out of town.” He said, “Is that so?” I said, “Yep,” and rolled the window back up. I was really scared.

I left him standing in the driveway and saw him shake his head. Thankfully he didn’t go to my front door to talk to me, but sure as anything he would talk to Amber the first time he saw her. I would need to have an answer for him that made sense, if ever I could get myself returned to the Amber that he knew. I drove to the shoe store. I sure didn’t like the looks that people gave me. Now I had empathy for obese people. I found a clerk named Cliff and asked him if he would measure my feet, because it had been a while since I had bought shoes. He led me to a short bench, didn’t comment on my bare footedness, and proceeded to measure my feet. Both were the same. I needed a 7W. There were only a few choices … brown flats it was.

I got back to my home with no incident and was greatly relieved when I shut the front door behind me. Now, I would carry out my research on the web. I was looking for information on the Norse gods and goddesses. What I found initially was disheartening. In Norse mythology, only Odin, the All-Father, could overrule Frigg, his wife and the queen of the Æsir gods. But the goddess Frigga was unable to prevent the death of her son, Baldr, because of a single, fateful oversight exploited by the trickster god Loki. Hel, the goddess of the underworld, prevented Frigga from getting her son back from the dead. Also, Freyja is a prominent goddess of love, war, and magic with a strong warrior aspect. She might be as strong or stronger than Frigg/Frigga.

Could I call upon all three, Loki, Hel, and Freyja, to help me get back the original body of Amber? Could they block Frigga? Would Odin overrule the three? I had to give it a try. The worst that could happen was that I would remain as I was, or could there be something worse? That question gave me reason to pause, but I thought, “What the hell?” But how could I summon them to my aid? I would offer cinnamon, sweets, and alcohol to Loki, blood, dried flowers, and rotting food to Hel, and honey, wine, apples, and pork to Freyja. I needed to make a trip to the grocery store. I would get bananas, avocados, and raw fish to rot under a heat lamp. So, I made one more foray out in public. Thankfully, all I got were those nasty stares.

By the following night, Wednesday, I had everything prepared. The rotting fish made an awful stink. I had arranged the bowls, plates, and a vase of dried flowers into three groupings in my living room. The blood was my own blood, taken from a cut in my left thumb, about three tablespoons into a small Chinese teacup. A white bandage wrapped my thumb. I arranged the three groupings such that I was facing east, toward Norway, land of my forefathers. I cleared space along the east wall for the three deities. Loki was the god of mischief, trickery, and deception, known for his shape-shifting abilities and cunning. Hel was the goddess of the underworld. Freyja was the goddess of love, beauty, fertility, war, magic and death.

I was really nervous. I was sweating and my heart was beating fast. I got down on my knees and began to chant their names. This went on for several minutes and nothing happened, and so I chanted their names again. This time I added words in Norwegian: “Kom til meg, mine forfedres guder. Jeg ber dere, kom til meg så snart som mulig.” Which translated says, “Come to me, gods of my forefathers. I beseech you, please come to me with all haste.” Suddenly, three human-sized forms appeared along the east wall, they were all in regal attire and were smiling. But I was at a loss; all three were women. Suddenly, the one on the right morphed into a berserker Viking. He laughed a hearty laugh and said, “I sure had you fooled.” “Loki, right?”

“Yes, I am Loki, the god of disruption and deceit. I have come in answer to your call and will do all I can to help you in your distress.” The woman in the middle said, “I am Hel, the goddess of Helheim. I also will do what I can to assist you.” Then the woman on the left said, “I am Freyja, the goddess of love and war, beauty and death, fertility and magic. I will as well help you in any way that I can. Why have you called us three?” I said, “I was changed by Frigga from an old man into a young woman.” I picked up a framed photo of myself and took it to them. “You see that I was a beautiful young maiden, but I angered Frigga, and she did this. I’d like to return to my former self.” All three looked at me and shook their heads. “Only Frigga can undo this.”

I bowed my head and sobbed. Loki came up to me, put his hand under my chin and lifted my head, so that I looked him in the eye. “Dry your tears my sweet. There is a way. Freyja will go to meet with Frigga and will tell her that if she returns you to your former state, she will talk to Hel and ask her to bring Baldr back to life. If Frigga agrees, I will assume the form of her son, in appearance, voice, mannerisms, and more. I have always wanted to be able to eavesdrop at the court of Odin and Frigga. I daresay that I can remain there until the day that you die, and then I will reveal myself and laugh in their faces.” I managed to smile and said, “You would really do that for me? You’ve only known me for a few minutes.” All three nodded. “Yes.”

“You have given me hope. Thank you so much. But there is one thing that is bothering me. What will Frigga think when you appear willing to restore her son, Baldr, for such an insignificant person as myself? Won’t she be really suspicious? What could I possibly say to allay her suspicions?” Freyja spoke, “Dear Amber, you are so beautiful inside. We will tell her that you are a significant person in the future of this planet, and that would be true. Her vengeance and wrath toward you is unwarranted. We can well imagine that she did something nasty when she transformed you from a man into a woman. Do not be afraid of her. You will know how to answer her. Goodbye now.” The contents of all the vessels vanished in flame. They were gone.

It was Thursday evening, while I was turning down the covers to go to sleep, that Frigga appeared in the dark corner of my bedroom. I turned to look her straight in the eyes. “You cheap slut, you worthless human being, what did you do to get them to agree to restoring my son to life?” I said, “Oh Frigga, you are worthy of honor and respect. Loki, Hel, and Freyja came in answer to my call for help, but they respect you enough to restore your son and they think I have some significant role to play in this world.” She said, “I think your full of shit, but I want my son back, so here is your former self.” I could feel myself shrinking.” She vanished.

After a minute or so, I removed the clothing and examined my body. It was back to normal and as far as I could tell there was no lingering vestige of the curse that Frigga had placed on me. I got dressed in my sheer nightgown and then gathered up all the plus-size clothing and disposed of them in the trash bin. As I laid my head down to sleep, I thought about returning to the gym in the morning. Everything was going to be alright. I thought about the huge mess that I had been in just a short while ago. I thanked the gods that I had contacted them, and they had found a way to restore me to my former self. I thought, “I need to keep a change of clothes as a memento.” I got up and retrieved them from the trash. Then I slept peacefully.

The next morning, I had a cup of coffee and a bagel with raspberry cream cheese. I was so thankful that I could fit in my clothes. I then walked out to my SUV. Before I could climb in, John came out to see me. “You know, I was puzzled by meeting your friend yesterday.” I said, “Why is that, John.” He replied, “Well, she sure sounded a lot like you, but that couldn’t possibly have been you.” I laughed and said, “John, why would you even think such a thought? Sue is a friend from Seattle. We’ve known each other since we were kids.” John said, “Yeah, that’s great. It’s just sad that she’s so overweight.” I shook my head and said, “Some people can’t help it. Sue has Cushing Syndrome. There are several diseases like that.” He said, “Okay, sure.”

As I backed out of the driveway, I saw John shaking his head again. Maybe he didn’t believe me, but there was nothing that I could do about that. I laughed and thought, “Surely, he doesn’t believe that that was me.” I could hardly believe that had been me, but then I thought of how uncomfortable I had been. I remembered how much those breasts had weighed in my hands. No, I would never forget how difficult it had been to walk, sit, stand, lie down, and bend over. I arrived at the gym and unlocked the doors. I made myself another cup of coffee and watched the kids, teenagers, adults, and parents walk in. My students began to warm up, and I got myself in the frame of mind to teach. I did some stretches myself. It was so good to be back.

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