SUMMARY: Receiving a strange package in the mail, Steve puts on the garments that start to change him into a woman, his girlfriend convinces him to go along with what is happening to him, but it turns out she has other motives.
It was a dark and stormy night...
Well - it wasn't exactly stormy, per se. More windy, actually. And, since night is usually dark, it hardly seems worth mentioning that, either. But, for God's sake, I've got to start this story somewhere, don't I?
Okay, so it was a dark and windy night. (Happy?)
In any case, the wind (well, perhaps 'light breeze' would be more accurate...) was blowing, and it was enough to move clouds over the tiny of sliver of moon in the sky, making a dark night that much darker.
It was the proverbial 'darkest' before the dawn. It was about this time - say, three-thirty or so in the morning - that our 'hero' awoke, with a throat as dry as Arizona in the summer.
Running a dry tongue over his chapped lips, the raw-boned man in his mid forties stared up at the slightly out of focus ceiling, debating whether or not to bother getting up for a glass of water, or waiting to see if he could just fall back asleep.
Finally, Steve decided that sleep would evade him, and quietly rolled out of bed, trying not to wake his girlfriend, Susie. Fumbling across the night table, his hand found his glasses and he pulled them on as he wrapped a bathrobe around his pajamas and padded out to the kitchen for a glass of water.
He'd just completed this little task, slaking his thirst, when he noticed the security light on the front porch of his bungalow flash on. From the kitchen, the front step wasn't visible, but he could clearly see the glow the porch light created - and the dark shadow made as somebody moved around on the front porch.
Creeping slowly to the front door, Steve took a quick peep through the peep-hole mounted in the center of the door.
He couldn't see a damned thing. Whoever was out there was well below the level of the peep-hole, although Steve could clearly see the shadow of whoever it was.
Backing quietly away from the door, Steve turned and padded quickly to the side door, which was on the other side of the kitchen and led out into the carport. He opened it, striving for silence as he did so. Stepping out, he closed the door just as quietly and moved silently across the cool asphalt of the driveway and around to the front of the house, gathering speed as he prepared to confront...
...an empty porch.
Well, no - not quite empty. Resting on the porch was a small package, wrapped in brown wrapping paper. Approaching it, cautiously, Steve picked up the package gingerly and looked it over. Finding nothing threatening about the package, he carried it back into the house through the carport door, trying to be quiet.
At least, that's how Steve says he found the package. Personally, I don't know if I buy that 'heroic-chasing-off-of-an-intruder' routine. But, hell - who am I to say that Steve's lying about it?
In any case...
Steve returned to the kitchen and lowered himself onto a seat at the small table nestled in the corner of the room. With a distracted slapping motion, he managed to find and flip on the switch for the light that hung over the table, never taking his eyes off the package in front of him.
It was unremarkable, to the eye - roughly the size of a shoe-box and wrapped in basic brown paper, complete with twine holding it shut. Neither his name nor a return address marred the blankness of the outer wrapping, and Steve gingerly held the package near his ear and shook it slightly.
There was a soft ticking from somewhere deep inside.
He dropped the box on the table, jaw muscles working as he stared at the package. Curiosity finally managed to get the better of him, however, and he reached out and pulled on the knots holding the box closed, slowly unwrapping the package and lifting the lid off the plain white shoe box that was revealed.
He stared for a long second at what the box contained, his face twisting into a confused-yet-amused expression as he finally reached in and lifted out the contents of the box.
The first item explained the ticking - it was a watch. A high-tech-yet-classy 'Navigator' style, with a black leather band, dark blue face with gold Roman numerals and gold hands, and all surrounded by a bezel that was gold with silver degree marks around the edges.
He looked at the watch for a long moment, intrigued - despite the obvious expense of the watch, there was no makers name or insignia anywhere, which struck him as odd.
Not as odd as the other contents of the box, however.
A pair of ankle-high 'socks' - except he'd never seen socks made out of a fine-grain black leather before. They shone with the muted gleam of expensive, fine leather as he lifted them to the light and examined them. It was nearly impossible to see the seams in the form-fitting 'booties', as they were so perfectly matched and so finely butt-stitched that they seemed to be part of the surrounding material. The craftsmanship of the 'simple' garments was as fine as that in the precision timepiece.
Whoever had left the unattributed gift on his doorstop had exquisite - if eclectic - taste.
Of course, there was only one thing Steve could do...
Glancing around with a guilty look, he slid the watch onto his wrist and fumbled the clasp closed, finding that - unadjusted - the supple leather band fit his wrist as if made to go there. He admired the watch, incongruous as it looked beside the somewhat tattered sleeve of his robe, then turned his attention to the leather 'socks'.
Turning sideways in his chair to allow himself more room, he lifted one foot and began to fit the socks onto the rather rawboned, unlovely appendage. It took a bit of work, as they were tight-fitting and leather is not really known for it's 'give'. But he finally managed to get first one, then the other in place, and he smoothed them down, finding that they just covered his ankles, fitting to his feet with contour-hugging perfection.
He turned his feet to the left and right, looking at the somewhat odd picture this presented, then shook his head and snorted. Pulling his right leg up, he peeled off the sock...
...or, at least, tried to. He couldn't even get his fingers under the tight-fitting 'lip', much less pull the sock off.
He tried again, even padding to the drawer to 'steal' a butter-knife to aid him, but the socks refused to budge - as did the watch, when he attempted to remove it.
"Ha, ha, ha," Steve said aloud. "Very funny."
Now he knew why there was no return address on the package. Somebody who knew him well enough to guess he'd try the stuff on thought it would be a 'great' joke, obviously, to apply some sort of glue or something to the objects, leaving him with the problem of removing them.
Well, as that may be, Steve didn't feel up to the task, certainly not this early in the morning. Maybe later, when he was more awake and - more importantly - Susie was up. The old saying 'two heads are better than one' was true enough, especially when it came to problem-solving, and Steve didn't feel like wasting the skull-sweat on the problem.
Annoyed - and, he had to admit, mildly amused in a ticked-off way - he padded back to the bedroom, trying to keep as quiet as possible. Dropping his robe into a pile at the side of his bed, he slid between the covers without disturbing Susie, and soon drifted off into the welcome arms of sleep, his mind still trying to decide which one of his so-caller friends had decided to play the little prank.
* * * * *
Steve awoke from a dream/nightmare in which a car-crusher made out of foam was slowly pressing in against his legs.
Even as he swam out of the embrace of sleep, however, the odd 'gentle compression' sensation on his legs failed to fade away, and he blinked and hauled himself upright, flipping the sheets off his body without consideration for Susie.
"What the...!"
Being 'deblanketed' might not have pulled Susie from the gentle arms of Morpheus, but the loud, startled exclamation from her man did. Yawning and blinking blearily, she pushed herself onto her elbows, her ocean-blue eyes fogged by sleep.
"Whazzzrong?" she muttered, bringing one hand up to push her sleep-mussed mane of wavy, ebony hair out of her face as she looked at Steve with a sleepy, puzzled expression.
Steve, however, didn't answer - he was too 'busy' gaping at his legs, his fumbling hands numbly sliding his glasses into place to better focus upon what he was seeing.
He was no longer wearing the leather socks...exactly. Instead, black leather stretched from his toes to a silver metallic band that encircled his legs just above his knees, unbroken by seams or imperfections. They hugged his legs perfectly...
Only, the contours they were hugging didn't look right. In fact, the shape under the black covering was slowly writhing, accompanied by that compressing sensation.
Which faded away, leaving Steve staring numbly at glossy black legs that were unlike his own unremarkable male gams. Instead, the leather covered legs that - to Steve - appeared to be the shapeliest, most feminine legs he'd ever seen.
From the knees down, that was. Above the band of metal that ringed the top of what looked like a pair of knee-high stockings made of black leather, his own male thighs remained as 'normal' as ever, showing no relation to the shapely, dainty legs and tiny, slender feet below.
"Honey...what's going on?" Susie asked, holding one hand in front of her mouth as she yawned, a little more alert. She gazed down at his legs, brow furrowing in confusion. "What the...?"
"That's what I said," Steve replied, slowly sliding his hands over the leather encasing the shapely calves, feeling the touch - somewhat muted by the leather - transmitted through 'his' legs.
Susie blinked. "I don't get it - is this some new pair of nylons, or something...?"
Steve shook his head, sketching in the odd events of earlier that morning as they stared in bemused confusion at his altered legs. Used to Steve's crossdressing, the 'mere' sight of something like 'stockings', no matter how unusual the material they were made of, wouldn't have fazed the petite woman. But the definitely 'un-Steve-like' contours under the leather was definitely enough to attract some notice.
Susie's comment on Steve's repetition of the events was its usual, pithy self. "Steve, sweets - I don't know what this is, but it's no practical joke. This just isn't possible." She paused. "Correction - before now, I wouldn't have thought it possible..." She slid one hand over his lower legs, shaking her head. Then - her mind as practical as it could be so soon after awakening - added, "So - just how upset are you?"
That gave Steve pause to think. Anybody else might be in a near panic - anybody who wasn't a crossdresser and aficionado of TG fiction, that was.
"Actually..." Steve said, smiling thinly. "This is kind of...neat. Exciting - in a scary sort of way."
"Mmm-hmm," Susie said, stretching. "Either somebody has decided to give you a taste of your little fantasies..."
She slid her legs over the side of the bed and stood, her smooth back presented to Steve's admiring gaze as she stretched on her toes, adding an inch or so to her five-foot-nil height.
"Or...?" Steve prompted.
"Did it occur to you that those could have been meant for me?" she asked, throwing him a wicked grin.
Steve's face went blank, answering her question. Laughing at his startled look, Susie padded off to the bathroom to empty her bladder, her nonchalant acceptance of even the outlandish events of the morning only reaffirming Steve's already high respect for her ability to take life in stride.
Hell - she stuck with him, and even on his 'best' days he was hardly 'Joe Average'. If she'd been the type of woman obsessed with order and 'normality', she'd have left him ages ago.
While Susie went about her morning ablutions, Steve swung his altered feet over the side of the bed and pushed himself upright...
...then caught his balance, adjusting his stance to take into effect his smaller feet. Peeking around the corner of the door frame to see Susie brushing her teeth, he gave in to the temptation that had sprung into his mind and padded over to the closet, feeling the subtly different bunching and relaxing of the altered, feminine muscles beneath the black leather casings.
Sliding open the closet, he bent over and fished out a pair of shoes - Susie's shoes, as his own feminine footwear was designed for much larger feet, and he'd swim in the oversized shoes and boots.
As it was, even Susie's size seven shoes turned out to be a bit loose, surprising Steve - his feet were much, much smaller than what would be 'to scale' for a genetic woman of his height and general build. The shoes he'd picked - a pair of glossy black patent leather pumps with five-inch heels - fit a lot better than any of his own would have, but remained a touch loose.
However, they definitely looked like they fit his altered feet, visually speaking. Though of a different texture then the preternatural leather stockings that enclosed his altered legs, they matched well enough to create the impression that he was wearing some sort of fancy thigh-high boots.
"Hey - trés chic."
Steve whirled, then grinned guiltily at Susie. "Okay, okay - I just had to give it a try."
She was looking at his legs with a grin that was slowly fading. "Um...didn't those things just come up to those metal bands before?"
"Huh?" Steve glanced down, then gasped when he realized that the leather now extended a good three inches above the metal bands, reaching mid-way up his thighs. He stared at the leather, swearing that he could see it slowly creeping upwards.
"Trés weird," Susie said, padding closer to look. "What if these things continue going - right up over your whole body?"
Steve considered the question - then grinned wryly. "Well - there's only one way to find out, isn't there?"
She matched the grin, leaning forward for a quick kiss. Having something completely 'out there' happening to him was 'scary' - but the what of what was happening was a sort of a long-held 'dream' that acted as a counter-weight to the fear and confusion, leaving him in a state of frightened excitement - or maybe excited fear. He wasn't quite sure yet.
They broke the kiss, and stepped a bit apart. Susie reached up and patted him on the cheek. "So - what's the plan for work today? Short skirt and heels? Or would that be a little much?"
Steve laughed. "I think I'll play it easy today - just call in sick." He walked over to the phone...
...and stopped and turned back around when Susie gasped. It was an instinctive act, and a second later - without any 'prompting', besides the startled look on Susie's face - he glanced down.
Then gasped himself.
The leather 'stockings' now reached his crotch, following a 'reverse bikini line' - a vee-shaped area that left his crotch itself bare at the front, and circled just below the bottom curve of his buttocks at the back. Another metallic band encircled his leg at the top of this new juncture.
But that wasn't what caused the gasp.
It was the fact that the shoes had 'disappeared' - now the 'boots' that the leather had become ran smoothly to tiny semi-pointed toes and what looked like at least seven-inch heels that looked as if they were part of the entire 'boot', not showing any sign of having been 'absorbed' by the leather. And he'd just walked over to the phone in them with all the grace of a model who'd been wearing stilettoes all her adult life...
"Holy..." Steve started - then gasped and gave a mild grimace as the leather sheathing his legs 'flexed'. The sensation passed fairly quickly - and his upper legs had reshaped themselves to match the sensual, feminine curves of the legs below, giving him a pair of extremely shapely female legs encased in leather, and enhanced by the heels he wore.
"Wow..." Susie said, one eyebrow rising.
Swallowing, Steve picked up the phone and called in sick.
When the secretary who took the call asked him what was wrong, Steve found himself having to hold back an attack of the chuckles at the thought of trying to explain the real answer to that one. Instead, he blamed his absence on the flu, saying he hoped it was only the twenty-four hour variety, but that he might not be in all week - a nice 'escape clause', depending on what happened.
He hung up the phone - and let the chuckles escape, earning him an odd look from Susie. He explained the 'joke' to her, and she giggle at the thought.
"Okay - now what do we do? Just wait and see how much of you your new boots 'devour'?" Susie asked.
Steve looked down at his reshaped legs with a judgmental look. "Actually - I think it's stopped. Last time, it only took a couple of minutes to extend past the metal band. These still seem to be the same length."
"All things considered, honey?" she suggested. "I wouldn't assume anything."
"Good idea," Steve admitted, while mentally reserving an 'I told you so' in case he turned out to be right. He was sure she was doing the same for the other eventuality. "Look, this is getting a little freaky for me. I mean, I'm still really curious and all - but I don't know whether or not this has a 'happy ending', you know?" He swallowed. "Lets see if we can get these things off."
He sat on the side of the bed and Susie grabbed a hold of his left 'boot'. She began to pull on the
skintight part around his foot while he tried to find a finger hold or break around the metal band at the top.
Both attempts were met with failure.
Just as Susie was bracing herself for another go, the doorbell rang. She looked down at Steve's transformed, leather-clad legs, then jerked a thumb over her shoulder.
"Why don't I get it?" she suggested, wrinkling her nose and nodding. Picking up the bathrobe, she slipped it around her well-maintained body and tied it around the waist as she padded off toward the front of the house.
She returned a couple of minutes later, gingerly carrying a box in her hands.
A box wrapped in plain brown wrapping and tied with twine.
"It was just sitting on the porch, and nobody was around," she said, laying it on the bed beside Steve. "So...do we open it?"
He looked at her, then at the box. "I..."
She read the indecision on Steve's face, and understood that his conflicting emotions were holding him in a tug-of-war. His 'sensible' side was insisting that he should be panicking, while his 'emotional' side was saying 'go for it!'.
Shrugging, she solved the perfect balance of emotions in Steve by taking the matter into her own hands - literally. She picked up the box and quickly undid the string and unwrapped the box, opening it...
"Kinky." She tilted the box to show Steve what was inside, obviously hesitant about actually touching the contents.
Inside lay three pairs of 'underwear'. At least, that's what it looked like - women's briefs.
Only - they were made of what appeared to be latex, and came in gloss black, gloss 'flesh-tone', and shimmering silver.
"You do realize what will probably happen if you put one of these on, don't you?" Susie asked, searching Steve's face for a hint of what he was feeling right now. She wasn't sure whether she should be concerned, or caught up in the 'excitement' - his confused emotions were affecting her as well.
He grinned wryly. "Sure, I know - I'm just trying to figure out if that would be a bad thing or not."
There was a pause.
"Well...?" Susie prompted.
Steve looked down at the 'panties'...then, as if afraid it might leap out at him, slowly reached into the box and pulled out the black pair.
"Are you sure this is what you want to do?" Susie asked, her tone making it clear that she wasn't condemning, merely interested in knowing the answer.
"No," he replied - but didn't stop sliding his high-heeled feet into the leg holes of the 'panties' and pulling them up his sexy, ultra feminine legs. He pulled them tight on his crotch, finding that the panties now covered from exactly the top of the metal bands of the 'boots' to the top of his hips.
He had stood to pull them in position, and now he leaned over top look at them while Susie began gnawing on a fingernail, waiting to see what happened.
The first thing that happened was that his cock, clearly outline in the material, began to grow harder, quickly becoming rigid.
"Steve!" Susie giggled at the sight.
"I..." Steve started to reply - then gasped.
Susie gasped as well as she watched the flesh under the panties ripple. His hips pushed outwards, becoming wider - womanly - as his ass expanded into a delectably female shape, firm and round beneath the skintight covering.
The covering also spread over his erect penis, no longer outlining it under itself, but allowing its top to stand straight out as the material filled in and covered it completely. Then there was a rippling sensation...
...and his 'cock' dropped off, landing on the floor with a soft 'thud' and leaving only smooth latex over his smooth, feminine looking crotch.
"Steve!" Susie said - then hesitantly bent down and picked up what was quite obviously a black plastic dildo.
Steve was staring at his ex-member, stunned. "Wow..." he breathed. There'd been an instant of pressure when the 'panties' had done their work - then no pain at all as the now-dildo dropped free. Instead, he could feel a subtle-but-unmistakable difference under the latex that covered his crotch, and he gently pressed his hand against the small, smoothly curved mound between his feminine thighs.
"Um...well - I thing that I'm...'fully equipped' from the waist down," he said, trying - in vain - to pull the panties down and take a look. They were as stubbornly locked into place as the 'boots' were, causing him frustration on top of everything else. Here he had - wanted or not - what was probably a fully functional female vagina - and he couldn't even take a look at the damned thing!
"Whoa, lover..." Susie said, idly fondling the dildo that had been his penis. "You know, I have to say that this is getting...interesting."
"Well, it's nice to know you're enjoying this," Steve retorted - in an exaggerated feminine tone and posture, putting his hands on his wider, feminine hips and mocking the expression she sometimes used when she was upset with him. Dropping the act, he shrugged slightly. "It is kind of...incredible. Exciting - but...what if no more boxes arrive? What if I'm stuck like this, and can't get these things off?"
"Well..." Susie started to say something reassuring, when she was interrupted by the shrilling of the phone. Turning atop the heels, Steve picked up the receiver.
"Hello?"
There was a strange hiss on the line - then a voice spoke, and from the first syllable it was painfully obvious that the voice was being electronically distorted, sounding unearthly and flat.
'In your mailbox you will find a key. This key fits locker 1026 at the bus terminal. Proceed there immediately and retrieve the parcel that is inside. Do not attempt to contact anybody. Do not attempt to seek 'assistance' from anyone aside from Susie. Further instructions will be forthcoming. You have twenty-five minutes.'
There was a 'click', then the ordinary hum of an empty line.
Hanging up the phone, Steve explained what the voice had said, searching for something to wear. He had absolutely no intention of disobeying the instructions, which only increased his curiosity rather than frightening him - now that he knew that there was some sort of continuing plan behind this.
Not having long to consider his options, Steve settled for pulling on a pair of loose-fitting sand-colored jeans over his lower half. They pulled taut across his new hips and ass, making it difficult to button, but hung like tents on his slimmer legs.
A comfortable-fitting khaki shirt went with the jeans, and he resorted to a pair of large, black rubber boots to cover his stiletto-heeled feet. It was an indication of how much his feet had shrunk that he was able to jam his feet into boots that used to fit him fine, but walking with high heels hidden in clunky boots created a decidedly odd look, especially since his widened hips had a tendency to perform a feminine 'swivel and sway' that the hidden heels only exaggerated.
Hurrying outside, he checked the mailbox and was unsurprised to find the promised key, a piece of milled brass with a bright orange plastic coating the butt end, stamped with the locker number. Hurrying to the driveway, he slid behind the wheel of his Grand Am and brought the engine to life, pulling the metallic blue car out of the driveway with uncommon haste, his eyes flicking to the clock on the dashboard.
He was cutting it too close for comfort when he hurried into the terminal, all-too-aware of the strange looks his odd gait garnered. Ignoring them, he began searching the banks of lockers for the correct locker, throwing worried glances at the watch on his wrist - then cursing when he realized that the time it bore had no relation to reality, although the hands were moving.
Finding the right locker, he opened it and found - as he half-expected - another box. Larger than the previous ones, it was also a plain white box, although the plain brown wrapper had been omitted in this case.
Taking the box out, he closed the locker then glanced around curiously. He failed to spot anyone paying undue attention to him...
...or, rather, there were several 'starers', but he couldn't tell which ones were just the usual lot of Bus Terminal gapers, and which might have had anything to do with his being here.
Hesitantly, he opened the box and peeked inside.
Corsets. Two of them - one a bright fire-engine red with lacy black trim, the other a more 'functional' one in flesh-tone.
Glancing around again, Steve closed the box and headed for the exit, taking the extra time to try and mute the strange gait of his stride.
Before too long, he was back in his bedroom, Susie clamoring to know what had been in the locker. He showed her, and she hesitantly lifted the two corsets out, one in each hand.
She whistled, eyeing the red-and-black number. "Wow - you know how much these things cost?" she asked. "This is a real corset, not one of those flimsy 'decorative' ones."
"Yes, I know what these things cost," Steve said, gently, while smiling.
Startled, she looked at him - then laughed at her comment. Steve already owned a couple 'real' corsets, heavy canvas and metal 'boning' designed to compress the human (supposedly female) waist.
"Well?" she asked, shaking one then the other. "The red one, right?"
Steve smiled at how well she knew him - not 'are you going to put one on', but 'you're going to put this one on, right?'
Frowning slightly, Steve shrugged and decided that - since she was right that he was going to put one on - he'd throw her a curve-ball, just to keep her on her toes.
Figuratively speaking, of course - he was literally on his toes, as demonstrated as he slipped out of his clothes, revealing his heeled 'boots'.
"The flesh-toned one, I think," he suggested, and was rewarded by a startled blink and the 'really?' that snapped out of her mouth.
"Sure." Steve smiled, taking the thick garment and pulling it over his head and down around his waist, turning his back to her and bracing himself against the wall. "Lace me up?"
Having done this before, Susie moved with efficiency, grabbing the loose laces and, working from the top, snuggling them semi-tight to his skin. Reaching the bottom, she grabbed the drawstrings, then lifted her leg and braced her right knee on his buttocks - which were much better padded than usual - and hauled on the strings.
The corset began to slowly move inwards, slowly compressing Steve's waist.
"Problem, honey?" Steve asked. "Go on - haul away."
She stopped, an odd expression on her face. "Steve - I am..."
Steve blinked and tried to get a good look at his midsection, seeing that it was, indeed, compressed an inch or two. "Holy...it just feels like you only quick-tightened the laces. I was wondering why you weren't pulling!" He paused. "Uh...okay, keep going."
Susie drew the laces tighter down the back, then began hauling on the loose ends again.
Again, the corset moved slowly inward against that soft resistance, the inches slowly being compressed without Steve experiencing anything more then a light, almost sensual, pressure.
After three more cycles, Susie stopped and eyed the effect of the corset.
"Steve," she said, awe in her voice. "I'm tying it off - if I tighten it any more, you're going to snap in half." Suiting action to words, she tied a bow into the drawstrings, then walked around and shook her head at the image Steve presented.
Seeing her look, he walked into the bathroom for a look in the mirror.
His waist couldn't be an inch more then sixteen inches around - if that. From the top of the corset to the bottom of his feet, Steve presented the image of a woman - and then some. Tiny wasp waist, tiny feet, sexy legs, spectacular ass - he was like some idealized woman.
"Wow..." he murmured, running his hands over the fabric of the corset...
...then, on instinct, he reached around and tried to undo the draw-string that Susie had so easily tied a moment ago.
The knot refused to budge.
"You're trying to take it off?" Susie asked, surprised, seeing him fumble.
"No - just verifying my theory that I can't take it off," he replied, and she nodded in understanding.
"Now what?" she asked - and before Steve could answer, the phone rang.
Looking at her with a raised eyebrow, Steve went and answered it. Once more that electronically distorted voice spoke, as quick and unhesitating as before.
"You are to go to 371-B Front Street - the Anything Goes Shop. They have been well paid, and will give you any wig that you choose, free of charge. Bring it home. Do not attempt to explain what is going on. Susie is to take the key now in your mailbox and go to the bus terminal. She is to retrieve the item in the locker whose number is on the key, and follow the instructions listed.'
Again, the caller hung up immediately, and Steve hung up and explained the information he was given. They shared a look that spoke volumes, then Susie helped Steve into his clothes, the corset - while fairly comfortable in fit - making bending over a bit awkward.
Pulling out of the driveway, Steve watched Susie's Geo pull out of the driveway and head off in the direction he'd gone earlier, while he aimed the snout of his car to the more distant location he'd been given.
It took him some time to find a place to park in the downtown district to which he'd been instructed to go, and he was glad there was no time limit in effect this time. He went into the store, an adult 'boutique' for 'alternate lifestyles' that he'd visited a couple of times before, his eyes roaming over the items on display, everything from 'plus size' women's clothes to B&D gear, from sexy leather and latex for him and her to 'marital aids'.
Walking up to the counter, he cleared his throat. "Um...my name's Steve Zink, and..."
"Of course, Mr. Zink," the girl - with two-tone pink and baby-blue hair - said, eyeing him with a speculative look. "Everything's' been arranged. Just pick out the wig you want."
Not willing or able to satisfy her obvious curiosity, he turned his attention to the selection of wigs on styrofoam heads. He had a pretty good idea of what would happen when he lowered it into place over his own sandy crew-cut, and took his time, wanting to pick the right one.
Finally, he pointed to one that was a brassy blonde, and long enough to hang to the small of his back. The style was straight, with fluffed bangs and a gentle teardrop sweep to the back of it.
The clerk went in back and returned a moment later with a boxed wig, handing it over. "If you don't mind me asking..."
Steve shook his head. "Sorry - I'm not allowed to explain."
Her eyebrow rose at that, but she shrugged and turned away, obviously a touched miffed.
Tucking the box under an arm that was rapidly becoming incongruous when compared to the rest of him, he headed back to where he'd parked his car, then drove back home.
Opening the front door, he carried the wig-box into the house calling out, "Susie, honey - you home?"
There was a sudden, sharp thump, then Susie's voice - sounding both startled and...somehow slightly odd - came from the back of the house.
"In the bedroom, honey!"
With a slightly surprised look on his face, Steve headed into the bedroom, where he found Susie just doing up the shoulder clasps on a brand new pair of denim overalls that were so baggy and large that they hung like a tent on her, an effect further emphasized by the thick, baggy sweatshirt that filled the top half, causing the bottoms to hang outward from her body.
"Well...that's a new look," Steve said, more then a little surprised.
She grinned devilishly. "Look who's talking."
Steve snorted, tossing the wig box on the bed - and noticing the large white box that it landed beside. "What's that?"
"Wait until you see what's inside," she said in that odd tone of voice, earning her a bemused look from Steve. He quickly undressed, then let Susie open the box and tilt it to display it's contents.
Bras. Well - sort of. Because in each white cotton bra was built-in padding, shaping the cups into the semblance of breasts themselves.
And there was quite a selection...
"My God!" Steve gasped, looking at the ones at the end. "They're...huge!"
Susie laughed, then pointed to each of the bras in order. "We gotch'er B cup, D, E, HH, JJJ, and MMM." The last one she pointed out looked like a pair of beach-balls covered in white fabric, and Steve could see why such a large box was needed - even the next size down was like a pair of medicine balls. She nodded in the direction of the wig box. "So?"
Tearing his eyes away from the array of falsies, he opened the box and lifted out the glossy blonde mane.
"Hey, nice choice," she said, approvingly. "C'mon - let's see how it looks."
"Sure," Steve said. He carefully eased himself to his knees and held the wig out. "Just in case - you put it on, and make sure it's straight. I'd hate to put it on crooked and have it stuck like that."
"Sure thing, babe," Susie said, moving with what seemed excessive enthusiasm to take the wig. Holding it an inch or two above his own short hair, she closed one eye and carefully lined the wig up before lowering it into place.
Immediately, a tingling sensation ran through his scalp, and Steve verified his assumption by reaching up and tugging at the hair, feeling - as expected - the tugging of his new hair through his scalp.
"Okay - now for the tits, babe," Susie said, practically yanking his arm out of the socket in an effort to hurry him.
"Okay, okay - geez, I think you're more into this then I am," Steve grumbled cheerfully - although, truth be told, he was definitely starting to enjoy the whole experience of slowly being made female, fulfilling a long-held fantasy. All the negative considerations were there, but they were buried under the excitement of the moment. "So - what size shall I be...?"
Susie nudged him in the ribs. "Come on, honey. I've read those stories you write. Big, balloon-chested girls. Then there's Eddie - and that Gunslinger..." She rolled her eyes.
Steve grinned at the ribbing. "Okay - I get your drift." He looked over the selection, then reached for the double 'H' cup.
"Oh, come on - go whole hog," Susie urged.
"Really?" Steve asked, considering. He'd had the urge, but it had faded a bit...but now he found himself coming back to the so quickly rejected idea.
"Yeah - go on. Live it up," Susie said, slapping him on the full, firm ass.
"Yeah. Yeah - I think I will," Steve said. Picking up the light (probably foam-filled) bra-encased 'triple M tits', he slid his arms through the straps, holding the huge, round 'tits' against his chest...
...before he could suggest it - or change his mind - Susie reached around him, her face practically buried in his 'cleavage', and snapped the bra closed.
Instantly, the 'tits' fused to his chest, and Steve felt the flood of sensations transmitted through them, even as the surprising weight of the massive - and now, quite real - tits hauled him forward and off balance. He stumbled, his body pressing against Susie's before - with her help - he managed to catch his balance and stand upright against the drag of his massive new tits.
"Damn - these are heavy!" he said, cupping his massive new tits, and feeling the pressure transmitted through the tits themselves. It was a new and definitely interesting sensation.
Awkwardly, he reached behind himself - using his previous experience of crossdressing - to fumble for the snaps, while feeling the heavy drag of his new tits pulling at him in a new and unaccustomed manner.
To his surprise, the clasps undid easily, and the bra dropped away.
Revealing his massive, round tits in all their glory. They were firm and almost spherical, and his new nipples quickly responded to being bared to the cool air, swelling outwards. They were absolutely huge, in scale to his massive new tits. They were easily as big - erect - as three-quarters of his thumb in length, and slightly thicker around than that digit.
"Wow..." Steve said as his hands roamed over the surface of the massive boobs, his thick fingers lightly squeezing the massive, swollen nipples, causing him to shiver at the decidedly pleasurable sensation created by the motion.
"They do have their uses," Susie said, eyeing his new endowments with a strange look. Reaching out, she hefted his huge tits, grunting slightly at the weight. "Wow - they are heavy..." she said, letting her smaller hands slide up the round curve of the breasts, and flicked Steve's thick new nipples.
"Hey!" Steve said at the mixed sensation that made.
"Just...interested," Susie said, looking somewhat - and, somehow, somewhat theatrically - hurt. "This is kind of a new and interesting situation for me, too."
"Sorry," Steve apologized - then his mind jumped back to something. "What have you got in your pocket, anyway?"
She blinked. "Huh?"
"I felt something thick and hard when I fell against you," he explained. "What was that?"
She waved a hand dismissively. "Oh - the dildo. You know - the one that your dick became?"
"Oh!" Steve said in startled understanding. He blinked - he hadn't realized that his dick felt that big when pressed against a thigh...
Then again, his thigh had changed dimensions, and maybe that was what was throwing off his perspective.
Shrugging the thought away, he bent down to retrieve his bra...
...and barely managed to keep from crashing face-first into the floor, slapping his hands down to stop the inertia-and-gravity aided descent that his new tits provided, making his motion much faster then he'd anticipated.
Shaking his head at his stupidity at not anticipating the effect of his massive new tits, he grasped the bra then slowly strained upright, feeling like somebody had strapped a fifty-pound bag of milk to his chest. His back muscles twinged at the strain, but he got upright all right, and he decided that - to ease some of the drag of the tits - it would be a good idea to keep the bra on. Contorting, he got the garment on and done up, finding that it took a different sequence then he was used to to get the massive underwire bra in place, especially over his huge, now engorged nipples, which were - quite pleasantly - compressed by the straining fabric.
"Well - this is certainly...interesting," Steve said, fondling his massive, bra-encased boobs and already mildly regretting choosing the most massive of the available options.
"So..." Susie started to say.
Steve held up a finger, gesturing silence. Blinking, she did as he instructed, then watched as he waved her over to the phone. Not wanting the drag of gravity to affect him unduly, he bent his knees and kept his back ramrod straight as he crouched beside the bed table. With a bemused look, Susie joined him.
Steve made a rolling motion with his hand, a 'go on' sort of thing.
Frowning, Susie said in a questioning tone. "So - I wonder what happens next?"
The phone rang.
Wiggling his eyebrows up and down under his glasses, Steve made a 'be my guest' motion at the phone.
Shaking her head, Susie picked up the phone. "Hello?"
She listened for a moment, then hung up, a bemused expression on her face. "How...?"
He shrugged. "Hey, it's as if there's a magical spell on us. Not only does anything I put on become part of my changing feminine body, but any time somebody says..." he paused, "...that phrase, then we get new instructions."
"Ah..." Susie said, nodding. "Okay - just chuck logic and go with the flow, huh?"
"Works for me," Steve said with a shrug - which caused an interesting expression to cross his face as he experienced the motion the movement created in his massively expanded chest, especially the way his still-swollen new nipples moved under the surface of the fabric.
"This will take some getting used to," he told Susie sheepishly. "So - what were the new instructions?"
"Well, we've got a choice. I was given two addresses to pick from - one's a tattoo parlor, the other's a...'special' bar-slash-club."
Steve winced at having to go out in public like this. There was no way of hiding his huge new bust - another mark against it - and his face and arms weren't feminine enough to get away with playing a 'normal' woman. What might be possible if he were to go 'en femme' in his normal body became hard to reconcile in his new form, which looked like a slender, huge-breasted woman from the waist down, but was bulkier and much more raw-boned up top.
"Uh..." Steve considered the question. He didn't have a clue about this bar - but he had an idea what a tattoo parlor might lead into, and he wasn't interested. "Let's try the bar."
"Okay," Susie said, agreeably. "Throw something on, and let's go."
Somewhat taken aback by the brisk command, Steve shrugged and looked for the most 'inconspicuous' outfit in the closet.
He settled on a black leather skirt that came about midway down his altered thighs and a black turtle-neck sweater that helped hide the differences between his feminized and normal body parts. He figured he'd just have to 'make-do' with his face the way it was.
They took his car, simply because it was the one that was last in the driveway. Locking the house, they headed out to the Grand Am, Susie sliding into the driver's seat. Steve slipped into the passenger's seat and began to buckle up - then grimaced and loosened the belt to accommodate his new 'frontal emplacements'. They headed off, Steve's heart slowly increasing it's tempo as they drew closer and closer to the destination, wondering what he was going to encounter, and what would be the final outcome of this incredible, amazing day.
Susie drove, having received the instructions, and it was a good thing she did - he might never have found the alley that she pulled into. He winced as the car barely cleared the walls of the run-down tenements on either side, then the alley opened up into a parking lot surrounded by brick walls on all sides. She parked the car and shut off the ignition.
"Here we are," she announced.
"Okay..." Steve said, looking around as he climbed out of the car, his huge new bust swaying despite the restraint the bra provided.
Susie led the way to a massive black steel door embedded in a brick wall. There was no handle on the door, no sign - nothing.
Susie merely stood in front of the door, and Steve was about to suggest they knock or something when there was a series of muffled 'thuds', and the door swung open, spilling music out into the night.
Hesitantly, Steve followed Susie into the darkened interior, the door swinging shut behind them of its own accord, and the thick bolts locking shut.
"Look!" Susie said, pointing to a large sign mounted on the wall. Steve leaned closer to read it, barely remembering to counter-pull against the mass of his new tits.
THE LUCRE CLUB
PHILOSOPHY
Everything is for sale. Any patron may offer to sell anything, legal or not, and anything may be purchased upon agreement of the price. All payment is through automated debit/credit, payable in cash upon time of exit.
RULES
1) There is a hundred dollar ($100.00) per-person fee to the HOUSE upon entering that must be paid before exit is granted.
2) The SELLER always sets the price. DICKERING IS SEVERELY FROWNED UPON.
3) Once a BUYER agrees to the SELLER'S set price NEITHER PARTY MAY BACK OUT OF THE TRANSACTION.
4) Any disputes WILL be settled by the HOUSE.
5) Within these walls, the terms ILLEGAL and/or IMMORAL have no meaning. ('Fattening' may still apply, however.)
6) NO COERCION is acceptable in the initial transactions. (It may be applicable to ENFORCE a transaction - or may be an integral part of the transaction, however.)
7) Availability of refreshments, alcoholic beverages and other such consumables ARE NOT provided/regulated by the HOUSE, but the sole providence of such SELLERS who have had the foresight to establish such services. HOWEVER - the first drink is on the HOUSE.
Steve read the sign again, then turned to Susie. "I don't believe this. If nothing else, we have to pony up a hundred bucks apiece before we're allowed to leave? We didn't bring that much cash!"
Susie seemed unconcerned. "So? We'll sell something. You read the sign - we can offer anything we want for sale, and see if anybody buys."
Steve spread his hands. "What the hell are we going to sell?"
Susie smiled oddly. "We'll think of something."
They continued on into the club, finding themselves at a gate that barred further progress. It looked out into a cavernous club that was part gentleman's club, part flea market and part...orgy.
To the right of the gate, a booth stood with a bored-looking man inside, dressed in a 'guard uniform' made of blue leather.
"Get your Credit/Debit transceivers here and..." he began in a bored drone.
Suzie held up her arm. "We already have them, buddy-boy. Open your eyes - and open the gate."
Startled by her brusque manner, it took Steve a second to realize what Susie was showing the guard...
...a watch, identical to the one he wore on his wrist. He frowned, realizing that she'd received some addition instructions, probably while getting the 'tits'.
The guard's manner changed. "Sorry, Miss - didn't know you were already a member." He glanced at Steve's wrist, then nodded to himself and hit a button that caused the gate to swing open, allowing them entrance to the club proper.
"Susie?" Steve asked, tapping her 'watch'.
"I'll explain later, love..." she said in a distracted tone, looking around. "We're supposed to mingle. I have things I have to do, and so do you."
"Oh? What do I have to do?" Steve asked, slightly miffed - then shrugged it off, figuring that she'd been instructed to keep her 'additional' information secret for some reason.
"Why..." Susie said with a mysterious grin. "Finish your 'look', of course. You can buy everything you need here, after all. Just try and keep your deals in the 'reasonable' range - you'll have to pay off your purchases before you can leave, remember?"
She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then wandered off into the crowd.
She was gone before the fact that she'd avoided saying 'we' registered. Blinking, Steve looked around, trying to sort out the throng of humanity that moved around the club.
The place was roughly the same size and general architectural style as the main concourse of Grand Central station - but the mix of people filling it would have seemed odd even there, the dress ranging from ultra-conservative to nothing at all, and with people doing just about anything at all. Steve had never seen anything like it, and it was like an assault on his senses.
The only 'good' news was that there was absolutely nothing about his current appearance that would attract a second look from this crowd. Picking a direction at random, he began to move through the crowd, keeping his eyes open and trying to decide what he was going to do. He had a rough sense of what was expected - he was to buy things that would complete his transformation - but the specifics of the change were up to him to work out.
He almost passed the slender, elegant woman laying on the divan, smoking a long cigarette in a black holder. She was dressed in an elegantly simple sea-blue velvet dress that must have cost a fortune, and her free hand was fondling the chest of the muscular man sitting on the floor.
It was that hand that caught Steve's attention.
It was clad in a glove. An opera-length glove of black satin, to be exact, trimmed at the top end with evenly space rhinestones.
At least - he assumed they were rhinestones. Guestimating the worth of the dress again, he thought suddenly that they might be the actual gemstone rather then a cheap substitute.
Well - nothing ventured, nothing gained. He walked closer, clearing his throat.
Her eyes swung to look at him, dark and smoldering. They flicked up and down his body, pausing at the massive chest that strained the sweater, then the incongruous, bespectacled face that topped it all off.
"Yes?" she said in a slow, eloquent British accent that actually made it sound more like, 'MMMMNnnyeESSS?"
Steve smiled. "I was just admiring your gloves..."
"Really?" she asked languidly. "I, myself, was rather unsure of them when I dressed this morn. I thought perhaps these..." She reached into a bag of some sort on the far side of the divan and produced another pair of opera gloves.
These one were a rich, dark blue, and tracing up them in entwining patterns were small rows of white stitching that formed criss-crossing diamond patterns.
"What do you think, dear? More apropos?" she asked, eyeing him with interest.
Steve considered the question. "No - I think the black ones were the right choice," he told her, slowly. "They complement your gown, rather then 'coordinate' with it - and the simplicity makes a statement that the other ones would have failed to make. They're too..." He fumbled for the correct word.
"Gauche?" she said with a slow smile.
Steve shrugged - and again felt the sensation that created. Ignoring it, he said, "Actually, 'busy' is what came to mind, but the idea is the same."
"Yes, I quite agree, my dear - thank you for setting my mind at ease. Life is too short to let these rather trivial things worry one for long, is it not?"
Steve nodded - and even that caused a new sensation, his now long, silky mane brushing over his neck.
"I will tell you what, dear - for your assistance, I shall allow you to buy these gloves..." She tilted the deep-blue satin gloves in his direction. "...for a mere twenty-five dollars. Agreeable?"
Steve considered. The black ones were actually more to his interest, but...
She cocked her head, reading his expression. "Perhaps you are right - they are too...'busy' for you as well. I will sell you a pair nearly identical to the ones that I am wearing for eight hundred dollars, if you wish. The diamond chips, I'm sure you must understand, do force me to rise the price."
Steve flinched at the figure she named for the black ones. "No - I think those ones will do," he said, pointing to the blue ones - after all, he was looking to change his arms, not necessarily win the 'best dressed' award of the evening.
"Splendid," the woman said, holding out her arm, on which the watch was resting, matching her outfit beautifully.
"Um..." Steve looked mildly embarrassed.
"Ah, of course," the British woman said, tilting her head. "Merely 'set' the watch to the amount to be debited from your standing account. The 'second' hand is tens of dollars, the 'minute' hand hundreds, the other thousands."
Steve brought his arm up and examined the watch, only now noticing that the numerals on the face only had eleven numbers, (0-10) rather then twelve. In a few seconds, he figured out the system, and he spun the hands via the knob on the side. Pulling it out three stops moved the thousand hand, which he set on 'zero'. Pushing it in one stop allowed him to do the same with the hundred's hand, then he spun the tens hand half-past two.
He then held his wrist out, and the elegant woman pressed her own watch against his, face to face.
When he looked at his watch, Steve found that all hands were now set on 'zero' - and the outside bezel had spun slightly, the arrow now pointing a touch past the first tick. It dawned on Steve that the ticks each signified thousands of dollars - and he wondered about the buy-and-sell of some things in here.
Taking a deep breath, he slid the gloves on under the sleeves of the sweater he wore...
...and felt the tingle of the change as he gained feminine hands and arms up to his shoulders.
Twenty minutes later, those shoulders matched his arms, as the purchase of a pair of women's shoulder pads converted the real mass of his shoulders under the sweater to an illusion that the pads provided over his slender new shoulders.
Or 'her' new shoulders. The search for the rest of the necessary items required some social interaction, and almost instinctively, Steve found himself using the name he usually did when in women's clothing - Jennifer. He began to fall into that certain 'mood' that 'playing' at being female always brought out in him - although he'd never 'played' it this well before.
A studded leather collar gave him a feminine voice - although, too late, he realized that getting one with a gold 'dog tag' bearing the legend 'Silly Silicone Slut' hadn't been the best move, as his new, feminine voice was higher pitched - and more 'brainless' sounding - then he would have liked.
However, that was a mere inconvenience compared to the 'face' he ended up with. Several 'other' women had come with masks of various styles, as if attending a masquerade ball. The vast majority of them were filigreed half-masks, some with feathers or pearls, but two of the women had incredibly detailed, realistic-looking masks.
However, the one with the 'elegantly beautiful' mask wasn't keen on giving it up, asking for two thousand dollars, while the one with the almost caricature-like mask of a bimbo seemed almost eager to get rid of it, letting the mask with it's tiny nose, huge blue eyes and full, red lips go for a song - thirty bucks.
So - 'Jennifer' ended up with a face that more than matched the voice she had.
But it completed her change, and that was the important part, for now. Finished - and only a couple hundred in the hole - she began to search for Susie, asking people if they'd seen her by describing her.
Finally, somebody pointed her toward a slender, rather arrogant looking man resting in an armchair, saying that he'd been speaking to her until a few minutes ago.
Jennifer walked over, and opened her mouth to introduce herself.
"Ah, my dear Steve - I must say I like your final choices, although that ensemble is simply ludicrous." He paused. "Or should I call you Jennifer now?"
"How...?" Jennifer gasped, surprised.
The man smiled. "Because I'm a wizard. A real, wave-my-hands-and-do-magic wizard. And the architect of your and Susie's little adventure."
"What?" Jennifer blurted. "Where is she? What's going on? How... Why..."
The man waved a hand. "She is fine - she's merely off getting 'prepared' for her little part in earning her way out of here. In the meantime, let me introduce myself. I am Roland..."
"I don't care what your name is," Jennifer said in annoyance. "I want some explanations!"
"You see," Roland explained dryly, "one of the restrictions placed on my enormous power is that I can only use it on mortals who enter into it 'voluntarily' - that is, without direct magical 'force'. Technically, you 'voluntarily' proceeded along the way - through ignorance at first, then through your own personality." He grinned devilishly. "I more or less counted on that, dear fellow...err, girl - it was why I chose you. Not allowed to use magic to find a suitable candidate who lived in the area, I used the Internet, and tracked you down through your stories and participation on the TG-related Internet sites. It worked out more or less as I planned, actually."
Jennifer tried her best to glare at the slender man, but her new face simply wasn't suited for the task. "So?" she asked in her new voice. "What's your plan for me, then?"
Roland smiled. "Actually, I mean you no real harm. It's merely that I have to fulfill a deal I foolishly made while under the influence. You see, I agreed to supply a certain person with a chance to see a staged fantasy - or, rather, any one of the half-dozen he wished to see. Now, if you 'voluntarily' go into the change room and pick any of the costumes there to wear, you'll then find yourself locked into playing out the associated fantasy for that costume."
"And if I don't?" Jennifer asked.
Roland shrugged. "Then you are trapped here until you are able to earn enough to leave - and you will remain trapped in that body, for the rest of your life. However, should you do this 'little' favor, then I will pay you and dear, dear Suzie handsomely for it. Furthermore, you will then be able to switch between your 'real' identities and these ones quite easily - you will be ably to 'remove' this body at will, as if it were a body suit, then put it back on and will it become 'real' at any time. So - a handsome reward if you comply, and, if you don't..." He trailed off expressively.
Jennifer sighed angrily - not that it looked that way to anyone watching, of course - knowing that there was really no choice at all. So - she would 'volunteer'.
"That room, there?" she asked, pointing one bright red, long nailed finger at the door he'd indicated.
"Yes, dear girl - that one," Roland said with a victorious smile.
Shaking her head, the huge-breasted blonde ex-man turned and jiggled and swayed over to the door and went through.
She found herself standing in a small room with two doors - the one she'd entered through, and one on the far wall. On each of the other walls, three open-fronted lockers held costumes.
Jennifer examined each of the costumes, her full, gloss-red lips curling at the 'selection' that was 'available'.
There was a 'cheerleader' outfit - but you'd never see a cheerleader dressed like this on any sports field, aside from the one Hugh Heffner had at his mansion, maybe.
Then there was the 'cop' outfit that would get you arrested in any city in the country - with the possible exception of Las Vegas, of course.
The third costume on the right-hand wall was the quintessential 'French maid' routine that fueled teenage boys' fantasies throughout western 'civilization, with the possible exception of actual French teenagers, who might know better.
The ones hanging on the other wall were no better. There was a 'business' outfit that would never be seen in a Fortune 500 boardroom, a Nurse's uniform that could cause cardiac arrest in older 'patients', and...
...and...
...the final costume didn't fit into any clearly defined role, as the others did. Instead, it was a fantasy onto itself, and Jennifer leaned closer for a better look, afraid to actually touch any of the costumes before she'd made her choice.
Resting in the bottom of the locker was a pair of silver leather boots that rose to a height that could only end up being thigh-high on her, if she wore them. They sported three-inch platforms that were made of clear plastic, and a matching ten-inch stiletto heel rose from the back of each boot. A series of chrome buckles-and-snaps rose up the outside three-quarter edge at the front of the boot to hold them on to the wearer's feet and legs.
Hanging from the hook was a pair of silver spandex shorts that were cut in the classic 'French' pattern, basically a triangle of material at the front and a slightly larger one at the back, held together by a narrow join at the bottom point and by a black elastic band that ran along the top. Also hanging on the hook was a silver spandex crop-top that looked like it might - might - cover her massive tits.
Sitting on the shelf just below this hook was a corset. A black leather corset with silver 'ribs' and silver snaps and buckles on the side in place of lacing at the back.
Also resting on the shelf was a pair of silver leather 'sleeves' that had buckles and clasps up the sides, but would leave the hands themselves free. The top end flared out sharply to a rounded point, matching those at the top front of the boots. Also resting on the shelf was a pair of silver-rimmed, slanted-oval sunglasses with lenses that were alternating bands of silver-and-black tinting.
There was also a silver leather choker necklace with a bright blue 'jewel' in the center of it in a silver setting.
Jennifer looked at the odd ensemble for a long moment, wondering what fantasy went along with the outfit. She was pretty sure what to expect in terms of what the others represented - but this one was a mystery.
That was the deciding factor. Not particularly interested in any of the other scenarios, this one at least offered a chance to satisfy her curiosity.
Shrugging, Jennifer quickly stripped out of the clothes she had been trapped in since early in the day and struggled into the outfit from the locker, fumbling with all the buckles, catches and snaps on the outfit. Her final act was to pull on the bejeweled choker and clasp it into place.
That was her last voluntary action for the duration. Instantly, she snapped ramrod upright, her hands dropping to her side as her body went into 'automatic pilot'.
With an incredibly sexy, ass-swinging sway that she'd never be able to manage atop those heels on her own, Jennifer found herself walking over to the other door and opening, stepping through...
...onto a stage that look like a set from an old 'Flash Gordon' movie. One side of the stage was open to an audience of attentive men and women watching the well-lit stage with enraptured expressions, while the rest of the set was done up in what a director form the 'fifties would have thought of as a 'futuristic' spaceship interior.
Standing center-stage was Susie. She was dressed in a skin-tight silver spandex jumpsuit that hugged every single curve of her body...
...including her now enlarged tits, somewhere in the amazingly firm, round, EEE-cup range, even tracing her large, erect nipples...
...and hugging her crotch, and the extremely large, unmistakably phallic bulge that lay there.
Swaying closer to Susie, Jennifer threw a snappy salute while wiggling her torso, causing her tits to jiggle and sway within the skimpy top she wore.
"Crew-girl Jenni Juggs reporting for duty, Cap'n Suckmeoff!" Jennifer - Jenni - reported in her chipper, bimbo-ish voice.
"Just in time, crew-girl Jenni!" Susie replied in a fake - and incredibly sexy - Russian accent that made the words come out as 'Jshust in time, crewl-girl Jshenni!'. "We are about to spiral into Alpha Beta's atmosphere unless we can restart the fusion engine."
"I'll do anything you tell me to, Cap'n honey!" Jenni assured Susie suggestively, earning applause from the audience.
"First, open valves one and two!" Susie ordered.
Jiggling and swaying, Jenni went to two large hand-wheels set into the floor of the set, in a row perpendicular to the front of the stage. She stood between the two of them, then - bending from the waist - bent over the first one.
The crowd roared it's approval as she began cranking the wheel, displaying a fantastic view of her cleavage as she did so, and the motion making her tits sway back and forth. After about a dozen turns, she stood straight up, then turned in place with jiggly, brainless little steps. She then bent over at the waist, displaying her ass to advantage as she cranked the second wheel, wiggling her ass in time with each crank.
Standing again, she threw another jiggly-salute at her 'commander'. "Done, Cap'n!"
"Good!" Susie complimented her. "Now - pump the primer for the reaction chamber!"
Jiggling and swaying, Jenni helplessly made her way over to a big, thick lever protruding from the floor of the stage on an angle. Making a big production of it, she 'demonstrated' that 'poor little her' wasn't strong enough to move the lever, then stood back and looked at it with an exaggerated look of pouty befuddlement on her face.
Then she broke into a sunny smile and snapped her fingers. Throwing one long, sexy leg over the lever, she straddled it and pushed her crotch firmly on it's roundness. Her weight pushed the lever down. She then flexed her legs, pushing herself back up atop the lever's return stroke.
Closing her eyes, she began to fondle her own body and toss her head around, making moaning sounds as she continued to 'pump' the lever, riding it up and down like a very erotic see-saw.
The moans, though unwilling, weren't entirely without justification - her hands were really fondling her transformed body, and it was pleasurable, especially when she fondled her huge, firm tits through the stretchy fabric that barely covered them, her fingers teasing her thick, engorged nipples through the fabric.
Finally, she stepped off the lever and, with another salute, reported that job done, as well.
Suddenly, a red light began to flash and a pipe that ran from the floor to the ceiling on the left side of the stage snapped off near it's bottom, and a thick, clear gel-like liquid began to gush from the rubber-insulator-coated pipe as the top portion of the pipe fell off to the side.
"Stem the flow until I can get the computer to shut the valves!" Susie commanded, running to the control board.
Jenni jiggled over and stared at the leak, then picked up a few obviously-unsuitable objects and considered them as stoppers before disposing of them.
Finally, looking worried, she tore off her top and dropped down beside the fifteen-inch long pipe thrust from the floor and tried to plug it with the scrap of fabric, which was immediately washed out of the way by the gushing, thick fluid.
So she knelt down and shoved her tits together and placed them atop the fountain.
The pressure of the goo forced a stream of it up through her cleavage at just enough pressure to allow it to ooze out of the top of her cleavage and down all sides of her huge, round tits, quickly coating them in a thick layer of clear ooze. She remained like that for a moment later, until Susie told her that the pressure was cut.
Rising, Jenni began to massage the thick, glistening liquid over her huge, round orbs, making wholly honest sounds of pleasure as her hands worked over the slick, sensitive flesh of her huge tits.
"Now - we need to regain a vacuum in the primary system to restart the engine. Connect the hose to the outer vent, Crew-girl Juggs!"
"Aye-aye, Cap'n!" Jenni replied. She opened a storage locked and remove a long black rubber hose. Walking over to a spigot that bore an overly large sign reading 'WARNING - THROUGH-HULL FITTING', she attached one end. Then she carried the other end over to the other wall and flipped open an access hatch, revealing a 'probe' that was about fourteen inches long, as thick around as her wrists, and with a decidedly phallic end. She started to connect the hose...
...and it was a couple of inches too short. Frowning, she tried again, then tossed it aside and looked at the phallic-looking connection while the audience began to laugh in anticipation.
They weren't disappointed.
Stepping up, she wrapped her hands around the base of the plastic 'fitting' and sucked the thick phallic probe into her mouth.
Sucking in until her cheeks hollowed, she made a big show of sucking as she slowly moved her head back until it was just barely enclosing the end of the 'fitting', then quickly moved forward, adding body language as she repeated the cycle.
There was a 'thrum...thrum...thrum...cough,' sound from behind the wall.
She continued the cycle, faster and more 'passionately' every time, each time getting a longer, more powerful sound, like an engine just about to catch. She continued to 'blow' the fitting vigorously, now basically face-fucking it with an incredible show of sucking with stunning skill at the phallic probe...
...and the unseen engine roared into life, accompanied by mixed laughter and cheers from the audience.
Some women were given the blow-job description that they were able to 'suck-start a leaf blower'. She'd just suck-started a spaceship.
"Very good..." Susie began...then a pipe on the far wall, about sixteen inches around and twelve inches long where it ran from the base fitting to the top fitting, suddenly burst, a hole appearing in it's side as more of that thick, clear liquid gushed out.
"It couldn't take the extra pressure!" the 'captain' cried. She tore off her uniform - which came off with suspicious ease - and used it to plug the whole, getting coated in a coat of the gleaming goo that managed to cover every inch of her except her hair.
"But it'll never hold!" Susie cried. "I've exposed myself to the effect Glastinine has on my race for no purpose!"
Jenni mimed having a brilliant idea, then whipped off her corset. Now naked to the waist, she ran to the pipe, tits bouncing and swaying. Wrapping the corset around the pipe - where it fit perfectly, to the inch - she buckled it up, holding the captain's uniform in the gap.
"Sheer genius, Jenni- but it's too late for me, I'm afraid. The effects of exposure are already starting."
"You don't mean...?" Jenni gasped, hands flying to her cheeks.
"Yes - hypercumiosis!" Susie said. "Even now, I can feel the pressure building..."
Her now revealed cock began to stir, the massive member swiftly becoming erect. "...and soon I shall die of the pressure!"
"No, Captain!" Jenni cried. "I shall save you! I can ease the pressure!"
She found herself all but dragging Susie to a couch-like bench in the center of the stage and forcing her to lay on it, head toward the audience. The couch 'just happened' to be below a forty-five degree, highly reflective 'roofing panel' that gave a perfect 'birds eye' view of the couch as Jenni swung her leg over her captain...
...and impaled herself completely on her huge, thick cock.
Moaning, Jenni began to thrust herself up and down on the thick, hot cock, feeling the incredible friction that caused bolts of pleasure to race through her body as she drove herself up and down on the cock, her muscular, sexy legs flexing inside her boots as she rode Susie, crying out in pleasure that wasn't at all fake. Incredible sensations coursed through her as she fucked Susie hard and deep, her huge tits bouncing as she fondled and squeezed Susie's new, not-inconsiderable endowments. Soon, she was returning that favor for Jenni.
Pleasure rolled through her glistening, writhing body, building and building as she fucked Susie with abandon, not knowing if it was the spell causing her to do it, or if she was doing this of her own free will. If it had been anybody else, she would have been utterly disgusted - but this was completely different, and the pleasure...it wasn't more, really, then sex as a male, but it was so different, so new...
...so...wonderful...
Jenni screamed in orgasmic ecstasy as the pleasure reached it's climax and rolled through her body, leaving her to slump against the slick, well-endowed body of her lover as Susie's cock gushed warm cum into her new womanhood.
The audience was applauding madly as the two women lay intertwined, their lips pressed firmly together as they kissed passionately, a wholly voluntary act...
Then the sound of the applause faded, and there was a sudden 'shifting' sensation, and they broke the kiss to stare at one another in surprise.
They were sitting, naked, on the couch in their living room, their bodies completely and utterly normal.
"Wha...?" Steve said, disorientated. He glanced around, trying to adapt to the sudden jump in gender, location and situation.
Then his eyes fell on what appeared to be a deflated blow-up doll - and recognized the features.
Stunned, he picked up the 'skin' of Jennifer, turning it over in his hands. A zipper ran up the body from crotch to chin, leaving no doubt how it was designed to be put on.
"That was..." Steve said, searching for adequate words - and failing.
"Yeah," Susie said, gaping at her own, deflated 'alter ego'.
Steve searched for words to explain his feeling, to describe what he thought - to explain that, although he didn't want to do it right now, he was already looking forward to the next time he would be Jennifer.
Before he could begin, though, there was a muffled whirring sound, and their heads whipped around to gape at the TV, which flared to life as the tape in the VCR began to play.
The screen remained blank for a second. Then a picture flared to life...
...showing a set that looked like an escapee from a fifty's sci-fi movie, with a 'woman' in a silver jumpsuit in the middle of the set, looking at a door that had just opened on one side, to reveal an incredible vision of blonde - and bimbo-ish - femininity.
Sharing a look, the two lovers lay the skins aside for the moment and leaned against each other, hands idly roaming over each other's body as they watched their alter-egos go through the scene...
* * * * *
Well, that's the whole story, as I heard it from Steve. Not that I believe a word of it, mind you - Steve's a known writer of fiction, which - after all, I should know - is only another way of saying 'Professional Liar'.
The thing is...how I came to hear the story.
See - I went out to get my paper this morning.. and found a box on my doorstep.
A plain-brown-paper wrapped box, tied with twine.
A box that contained three pairs of lady's gloves - sort of.
Now, this box sort of confused me, what with no note or return address. So, I started contacting some of my friends and acquaintances to try and track them down...and when I reached Steve, that's when I got this whole, utterly unbelievable story.
He's pulling my leg. I'm sure if it. Maybe he sent the box, and this is all an elaborate joke, or maybe he doesn't have a clue and just spun the story out of thin air for a laugh. I don't know.
But putting on a pair of gloves...won't do a damned thing. In fact, I'm going to prove that by putting on a pair right now.
Hmmm... But which pair? The pair of lady's elbow-length 'evening gloves', in a rather racy shade of red satin and with fringe trim up the outside?
Or maybe the women's black leather motorcycle gauntlets, with the chains over the wrists and the little gold letters on each knuckle. The ones that spell 'B-I-K-E-R' on the right glove, and 'B-I-T-C-H' on the other.
Or maybe the really strange ones. The realistic-looking flesh-toned latex ones that even have long, bright red fake nails affixed to the end of each finger.
I just can't seem to decide.
Any suggestions...?
