Romanian magic

Warm breeze and fog on the streets of the small provincial town of Bechev in Romania. The sounds and voices of a large number of people filled the air of the food market located near the main beach and was inundated with smells coming from local vendors and tourists that arrived here on the day the city celebrated the annual Feast of the Virgin.

Not far from there, a young, beautiful, black-haired woman sat and stared sadly into the distance. Her green eyes looked at the stream where many of her friends gathered today. But she didn't seem to recognize anyone and just sat there in thought and deep meditation. She suddenly opened her bag and started searching frantically in it until her slim fingers, adorned with numerous cheap rings and bracelets, felt a package containing several cigarettes. She chuckled with surprise, then carefully took out a cigarette and lit it with difficulty, taking a few breaths with a cough, as if she were smoking for the first time.

"Marica!" a dry elderly voice startled her, "Marica Petrila! Have you lost your mind completely!" An older man grabbed the cigarette and the pack out of his hand and threw them down onto the wooden deck, while a quick blow to the back of her head made her black out for a short time, "You're a completely spoiled brat, girl." He continued in a low voice. "You know well what happened with girls who smoked cigarettes in this town! They ended up in hell ... damn you, where would your head go?"

"Who are you?!" Marica got up to her feet, looking angrily at the old man. "Why do you speak to me like that? I'm not understand anything what is happening here!" it seemed that this grandfather and his actions were like the last straw and her patience snapped "Why am I in this body?!" she shouted, "why am I dressed like some girl and have these breasts ... and hair! Hair!! .... Shit!.. Cursed thing!!"

She grabbed the top of her dress, lifting it, exposing a black thong on her slim hips as her right hand moved under her chest. "I'm a man and shouldn't have ... " She paused briefly, her right hand pushing her palm between her n***d thighs as the lace between her legs became damp. A faint moan escaped her lips and, sighing deeply, her cheeks flushed, she bit her lower lip.

"Marica! Stop this shameless behavior immediately!! What the hell did you do?" now everybody's gaze was at her, watching in amazement this vulgar demonstration of hers. "Stop it, damn you!! Marica!"

"I'm not her!!" shouted Martica again "My name is Martin Peterson," she screamed angrily at the shocked crowd "I'm from the United States! Not from damn fucking Romania and... aghh! What are you-" she protested, trying to break free as her grandfather grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her aside from everyone.

"Enough of this nonsense, girl," he said, his voice stern, his breathing heavy "You're losing your mind..."

And she was really sure that she was some Martin Peterson - a male American, professor of Economics from New York, who had turned into her after studying the works of the great Bulgarian magicians Petko Konstantinov and accidentally cast a spell of transformation that send Martin to another dimension where she was born as Martica Petrila, 19 years, from small, provincial town Bechev.