Last he remembered was her calling him a son-of-a-bitch psycho.*****Michelle was not super aware of how to pilot a spacecraft. She had paid attention ...nough and been taught enough by one of her transporters to get the computer's auto pilot to work. If you can do that, the rest is easy as talking to a person. She sat in the pilot's seat, all metal and leather, and tapped a few buttons on the arm's small keyboard. The screen of a monitor to her left lit up."Welcome, pilot. Instructions?" it. I was at a loss for words, my head was covered withbeautiful shoulder length blond locks, they flowed like spun gold downmy head and softly onto my shoulders, looking completely out of placewith my still masculine face and body. Hovering above my cock was atiny perfectly formed triangle of blonde hair; I guess I was a naturalblonde now. And my skin, he was not joking my skin was flawless, from head to toe aperfect bronze tan, not thick and dark, but like light honey all acrossmy body leaving. More

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