Petra Jane Story Site

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SUMMARY: Getting a mysterious pair of magical shoes in the mail, a cross dresser has a field day as he realizes that the shoes will turn him into the feminine version of what ever male clothes he chooses to wear.
 
 
 Steve sighed and pushed away from his computer. Climbing to his feet, the man rose to his full - if not exactly impressive - height, and stretched to work the kinks out. After hours at the computer, many parts ached slightly...
 
 ...including his eyes. Removing his glasses, Steve rubbed wearily at the bridge of his nose before returning the glasses to the small crease that they'd created over the years. Scratching at his military-style crew-cut, Steve ambled toward the small 'efficiency' kitchen his reasonably-priced apartment 'boasted'.
 
 The knock on his door changed his direction. As he approached the door, he hoped it wasn't another one of those damned Jehovah's Witnesses. Not that he had anything in particular against any given religion, mind you - but those smarmy oh-so-polite Witnesses were a little too invasive for Steve's taste. He preferred his religion in the churches, where it belonged - not coming to the front door.
 
 Opening the door, Steve was relieved to discover that this wasn't the case - the man outside the door was dressed in the familiar brown uniform and carried a small parcel.
 
 "Mr. Zank?" the man asked, holding up the clipboard he carried.
 
 "Zink."

"Excuse me?"
 
 "My name - it's..." Steve sighed. "Never mind." He took the package and sighed for it, generally ignoring the man's instilled 'Have a nice day.' Kicking the door shut, Steve carried the package toward the small table in the kitchen, wondering what the hell it was. He wasn't expecting anything, and there was no return address on the parcel to give him a clue. Even the ages-old technique of shaking the package revealed nothing about the contents.
 
 Slumping into the worn vinyl chair, Steve resorted to the easiest method of all - he tore it open with his bare hands, revealing...
 
 ...a shoe box. Plain white, standard size, with a large, black, sans-serif word on the top - 'OVER-DO'. Presumably, the manufacturer, although Steve had never heard of them.
 
 Curious, Steve opened the package. Nestled inside the usual packing of tissue paper was a pair of what appeared to be good - hell, very good - quality running shoes - and a small folded piece of paper.
 
 Or rather, parchment, as Steve discovered pulling it out. Unfolding the creamy paper, Steve read the short, enclosed note, written in the smooth, rolling handwriting that had once been known as 'Palmer Script'.
 
 Master Stephen Zink,
 I have been instructed by a party - who wishes to remain nameless - to provide the enclosed as payment for an outstanding debt. I hope you enjoy them as they were intended to be.
 
 Sincerely,
 Merlin Magus, Esq.
 
 With a slightly bemused look on his round face, Steve re-read the note, trying to glean something more from it's obscure contents - to no avail. Placing the parchment aside with a shrug, Steve picked up the shoes and looked them over.
 
 They were white leather, with black trim. They appeared to be extremely expensive in make and material - and looked like they'd fit his feet perfectly. Steve looked them over carefully - to the intelligent man, the situation was somewhat inexplicable. The shoes looked to be worth quite a sum, and Steve couldn't think of anyone who owed him a large enough sum of money to make these fair payment. It, quite frankly, worried him.
 
 However, the phrase 'don't look a gift horse in the mouth' also ran through his head. Finally, somewhat hesitantly, Steve pulled the shoes on and laced them up.
 
 It was like he was wearing nothing at all. Amazingly light, the shoes seemed to mold perfectly to his feet, incredibly responsive - yet supporting, without seeming to do so. Experimentally, Steve bounced up and done on them a few times, then walked around the apartment, amazed at how comfortable the shoes were. His mental estimate of their worth immediately tripled - Steve had no idea that shoes this well made even existed.
 
 Patting his stomach, Steve felt the slight gut that had begun to form ever since he'd turned thirty. He'd managed to keep it from expanding too rapidly, a slow growth over the intervening decade and a half - but he figured he might give jogging a try, in shoes like this. But first...
 
 Grabbing a small sauce pan from under the counter, Steve stuck it on the stove. Turning the heat to just above 'Simmer', Steve opened a can of spaghetti sauce and dumped it in. On a plastic cutting board, he quickly chopped up some celery, mushrooms and onion, and added the diced pieces to the sauce, covering it with a lid. Leaving the sauce to simmer, he ducked into the bedroom. Almost reluctantly, Steve slipped out of the amazing shoes. Quickly shucking out of his usual 'Khaki Dockers and T-shirt' combo, he tugged on a pair of gray track pants and a matching T-shirt.
 
 Pulling the shoes back on, he laced them tightly, then left the room. He swung by the kitchen just long enough to give the sauce a stir. Then, tucking an apartment key into the rolled cuff of the sweat shirt, Steve left the apartment.
 
 Setting a brisk pace, he moved down the three flights of stairs and out the front door, letting his muscles stretch and joints loosen up. After about a half-block, he broke into a light jog. By the time he reached the park, he was feeling ready, and he pushed up the pace, the shoes slapping down on the asphalt with a solid authority. Despite that, the cushioning of the sole made it feel like he was running on the softest surface, not hard asphalt. As he followed the winding path through the park, his body began to feel the usual mild strain of exertion - but his feet were as comfortable as if he were sitting at home in his easy chair.
 
 He was starting to sweat, and his leg muscles were starting to develop that slight - but somehow, welcome - ache that was so familiar. All in all, Steve was doing great, feeling the energy flowing through his body as his metabolism increased.
 
 So the sudden burst of pain came as a complete surprise.
 
 It shot through him, a sudden wrenching sensation that flashed trough his body in an instant. With a gasp, Steve staggered to a stop, falling into the classic 'runner's rest' position - one hand on his thigh, the other arm across his chest and holding onto the other arm.
 
 But there was something very, very wrong with the way that felt. The feel of his thigh beneath the suddenly too-baggy track pants. The strange softness under his arm beneath the also too-baggy sweat shirt.
 
 But even as those, and other, sensations registered, Steve's mind was focusing on something else entirely - his shoes.
 
 They were too small, by several sizes - despite the fact that they in no way cramped his feet, remaining as comfortable as when he'd put them on. Only, he hadn't put these shoes on. Aside from the fact they were too small, they were also most definitely women's running shoes - still white leather, but trimmed in pink.
 
 "Miss - are you all right?"
 
 Steve was so busy trying to deal with so many conflicting sensations and thoughts that the voice came as a shock. Steve's head jerked up, his eyes focusing on the slender, younger man, also a jogger, who was looking at him with concern.
 
 Or, perhaps... her with concern. The man's choice of honorific sent shivers down a shorter spine, confirming the impossible, half-formed thought in Steve's mind.
 
 "Just a stitch in my side - I'll be fine," Steve said, both expecting - and shocked by - the nondescript but decisively feminine voice it came out in. But Steve was struggling to maintain composure - he...she? refused to make a public scene, no matter how impossible or incredible the situation was. Right now, all Steve wanted was for the Good Samaritan to leave, so he... she! - could get home and take stock of what was happening.
 
 After a second's pause, the (other?) man did just that, nodding and offering an unheard piece of advice. Then he jogged away.
 
 Forcing herself upright, Steve struggled to maintain an outwardly casual air as she headed back to her apartment at a slower pace, trying to take stock of her body without seeming to do so at all. As far as she could tell, she was - somehow - now a fairly average female. The poor fit of the clothes seemed to indicate that she was a few inches shorter. She had felt what must have been small-to-average sized breasts through the now-oversized sweat shirt. And her small gut had become, apparently, an average, but fairly flat, woman's stomach.
 
 'Well - the jogging did get rid of the gut,' Steve thought irreverently as she concentrated on walking. With slightly wider hips and an altered center of gravity, it was just slightly 'off' enough to make her movements awkward unless she paid attention, and she didn't want to attract the attention that 'walking like a man' would garner.
 
 For many people thrust into the same situation, Steve's apparent calmness about it would seem incredible. But Steve had some advantages.
 
 First, she was an intelligent, curious person who simply wasn't given to panic. Secondly, she had some military training in her background, which included the training in how to work through many different situations. But perhaps the most important factor was that Steve had somewhat unusual literary tastes.
 
 Because Steve was an aficionado of TG fiction. Stories in which gender-changes happened to various people in various ways. Of course, that's all it had been to him - fiction. But it was also something he thought about - wondered what it would be like, how he'd react if he were the character. In her mind, she'd thought through this situation thousands of times. She'd never considered the fact that she might actually be in such a situation - but that didn't matter, not right now.
 
 She was about a block away from the apartment when something else happened.
 
 Steve came to a dead stop in the middle of the sidewalk, and looked down at herself in amazement as she felt her clothing ripple - and begin to change.
 
 The track-pants began to darken and pull themselves tighter around her body, the length adjusting to her loss of height. Within seconds, her legs - apparently fairly average, she saw - were clad in tight, black Spandex jogging pants. The sweatshirt hadn't changed much, other than to adjust in size, and to acquire a small brand-name logo over the slight swell of her new breasts.
 
 Stunned, Steve looked around. As amazing as the sudden change of wardrobe was, that wasn't the cause of her amazement.
 
 The alteration had occurred in the middle of the sidewalk, in the plain view of at least a dozen people - yet none of the other pedestrians seemed to have noticed the slightest oddity.
 
 Swallowing, Steve hurried the rest of the way home, dashing into the bathroom. Slowly, her mouth opened in amazement as she stared in the mirror. Somehow, seeing the reflection in the silvered glass made everything absolutely indisputable. She wasn't dreaming, or hallucinating - this was, somehow, very real.
 
 The woman looking back from the mirror appeared to be in her early thirties. She was completely undistinguished in appearance. Her hair was a few shades darker than it had been, and now hung down about her ears in a shaggy, yet feminine, style. Her glasses was not as thick, and in different frames. But the face they sat on was not all that different - about what Steve's younger sister might look like.
 
 Likewise, her body was...female. Nothing spectacular, neither beautiful, nor ugly. Neither remarkably fit, or particularly out of shape.
 
 Slowly, Steve peeled off the sweatshirt, and let it drop beside her. She let her gaze shift from the mirror to a bird's-eye view of the pert breasts that rose from her smaller ribcage - a pair of completely average B-cup breasts.
 
 Completely average - except, of course, for the fact that they shouldn't be on Steve's chest.
 
 "Holy..." Steve breathed. Still topless, she walked numbly toward the kitchen, mind spinning. A part of her mind was bemused to record the sensation of her small, pink nipples becoming engorged in the cool air flowing over them.
 
 Honestly, Steve wasn't completely sure how she should be reacting right now. It was unbelievable, confusing, shocking - but not completely unwelcome. He'd often wondered what it would be like to be female - had daydreamed about it sometimes. But, never had she expected it to actually happen...
 
 She reached the kitchen and slumped down on the chair. She looked over at the note laying on the table, a small frown creasing her slightly fuller female lips. She was intelligent - she'd already figured out what had caused the transformation. But the question was - would she revert to her normal self if she took the shoes off...
 
 ...and did she want to? At least, right now? After a moment's hesitation, she decided she had to know, and leaned down to untie her shoes. She stopped when her small, perky breasts hit her thighs. The erect nipples hitting the spandex sent an oh-so-pleasurable sensation through her new endowments, and that's what caused the thought that caused her to hesitate.
 
 Blushing a bit, Steve straightened up - then slowly slid a slender hand down the front of the pants. She slid her hand past the new briefs she was wearing - and across the light growth of hair around the moist slit nestled between her unremarkable thighs. She shivered slightly at the sensation - then slid one finger into the crevice.
 
 The sensation was both similar and completely different than stroking her cock had been. It was good - hell, great - and the sensation was technically similar, in terms of nerves relaying stimuli. But it was also different in a very fundamental way.
 
 Withdrawing her finger, coated in feminine juices, she once more leaned forward, and this time unlaced the shoes and kicked them off...
 
 ...and nothing happened.
 
 She sat, waiting, for several minutes, wondering what she was going to do. It might still happen - the original change had occurred some time after she'd tried the shoes on - but she didn't know whether anything was going to happen.
 
 It was the smell of the sauce that decided her. There was nothing she could do right now, except wait. And while she was waiting - she might as well eat.
 
 Again noticing the differences in the way her altered body moved, Steve went over to the stove to finish preparing dinner.
 
 She was just finishing that dinner, about half an hour later, when the bolt of pain struck. The fork, with it's burden, flew from his hand to clatter on the floor near her foot...
 
 ...or rather - his foot. Once more, he was his usual male self - as a quick check of all the important pieces showed.
 
 With a sigh, Steve cleaned up the mess of the dropped spoon, and finished the rest of the spaghetti before dropping the plate in the sink. Then he walked over and picked up the amazing shoes - which, once more, were the male running shoe in his size. For several long moments, he merely stared at the footwear, mind spinning.
 
 Then, very methodically, he walked into his bedroom and undressed. He rummaged around in his closet for a bit, picking out what he wanted - a pair of shorts that were a little too small for him now, and a T-shirt. He also got a pair of black dress socks from the dresser, and dressed quickly in the apparently mismatched outfit. Then he carried the shoes with him into the living room and sat in the easy chair. Pulling the shoes on and tying them, he turned on the TV and tried to concentrate on the images while he waited for an interminable time.
 
 The half-hour mark came and went, and Steve's hope/fear began to fade. Minutes ticked farther on, and his tense body began to relax as nothing happened...
 
 ...until exactly one hour after pulling on the shoes. Then there was a sudden burst of pain, slightly different and slightly longer then the first. Steve shuddered, shaking away the reaction, and looked down at himself...
 
 ...herself. Once more, she was female. But, even without close inventory, she could tell that it was a different female version of himself than the first time - as he'd expected.
 
 Steve considered this - almost gravely - for a minute. Then a slow smile spread over her fuller, softer lips, and she said, "Cool..."
 
 After a few minutes, she felt what she'd expected - her clothes writhing on her body. Rising from the chair, she headed toward the bathroom, fuller hips and ass swaying in a feminine manner atop the altered shoes. With a smile, she looked at herself in the mirror.
 
 Again, there were definite similarities between this female body and her original male self. But, as she'd surmised, the transformation was based on the clothing she was wearing at the time.
 
 She was a younger woman, perhaps mid-to-late twenties. She was also quite attractive, in a sort of generic way. The T-shirt had become a short-sleeve white blouse that was pulled taut over her now-C-cup breasts, which were quite visible through the blouse, as she wasn't wearing a bra. The dark-blue shorts had become a skirt that fell just short of her - rather cute - kneecaps. Like the shorts, the skirt was on the tight side.
 
 The dress socks had become black nylons, disappearing up under the skirt. The once-running-shoes were now dark-blue pumps with what looked to be an inch high heel or so. Again, the shoes were amazingly comfortable and easy to walk in, despite the fact that Steve wasn't used to any heel at all.
 
 Smiling at the reflection in the mirror, Steve used his slender new fingers to unbutton the blouse, letting it hang free. Gently, she cupped her firm, domed breasts, making a pleased sound in the back of her throat at the sensation as she gently massaged her breasts.
 
 Shrugging off the blouse, she let it drop to the floor and walked back to the living room, letting the skirt slide off and drop to the floor on the way. Clad only in panties, nylons and shoes, the again-female Steve sat in her chair and reclined it, closing her eyes and putting her mind to good use - while letting her hands slowly slide over her altered body, exploring.
 
 The way she changed was determine by her clothing at the time - she had that down. The time had thrown her, because she hadn't timed it - but now, she worked that out, too. The first interval had been about fifteen minutes. Then, to change back, a half-hour. After that, an hour...
 
 Each interval was twice as long as the last one. So, if she took the shoes off right now, she should remain like this for two hours. If she was right.
 
 Steve allowed her lips to curve into a full, brilliant smile. She still had no idea who her mysterious debtor was - but they'd picked one hell of a gift. It was like a day-dream fantasy come true. Not only could Steve explore the other side of the gender line - she could decide, to a certain degree, what she'd look like.
 
 Sitting up, she looked regretfully at the shoes. She had to verify her theory, which meant she'd have to time the transformation back. But that was no big deal - there was always tomorrow. With a slight sigh, she kicked off the shoes as she checked the clock - she should have two hours in this body to go.
 
 She considered how to spend the time - vegging in front of the TV seemed like a tremendous waste. Finally, she decided that a bath could prove most...interesting. Pulling off the nylons - and cursing when she put a long run in one of them - Steve headed to the bathroom and started the tub filling.
 
 On a whim, she ducked into the kitchen and grabbed the Sunlight from the counter. Pouring some in the tub, she adjusted the water temperature as the suds rapidly formed. Shortly thereafter, she was sliding with a satisfied sigh into her bubble-bath.
 
 With a sort of voyeuristic sensation - despite that, for now, it was her body - Steve began to wash. She brought her right leg up, feeling her knee press against the full softness of her new breast as she soaped up the leg's smooth, soft contours, then washed it down. She repeated the sequence with her other leg, enjoying the feel of the smooth, slick flesh under her hands.
 
 She moved onto her widened hips next. The graceful, womanly curve flowed beneath Steve's exploring hands, and her hands met at where her now-silken thighs formed a hollow that housed her new sex. Pausing, she then let her hands slid up over her firm, flat belly and to her firm, taut mounds.
 
 Sliding lower in the water, Steve spent several minutes enjoying the womanly breasts under her hands. It was more than just the extremely pleasant sensations transmitted through the soft, sensitive flesh and firm nipples - it was also the enjoyment that her male side got from fondling such a nice pair of firm breasts.
 
 She did her face, neck and arms fairly quickly, feeling their smoothly altered configurations under her fingers. Her now-jaw-length hair was a bit of a nuisance for somebody who usually kept it close-cropped - but it's silky texture still felt nice.
 
 Then her hands returned to her crotch. She paused again, still feeling slightly embarrassed - but that didn't stop her. Slowly, she inserted her finger into the nether cavity, feeling that sensation once more.
 
 But this time, she didn't stop. Somewhat awkwardly at first, she began to masturbate. Steve moaned softly in the back of her slender new throat as her rhythm increased, her finger manipulating the sensitive nub of flesh until a small - but enjoyable - orgasm shook her. It was, again, both like and unlike a male orgasm. Somehow, it was more satisfying, feeling the pleasurable warmth that spread through her belly from the interior sensation. However, it was nowhere near as intense, Steve learned with some disappointment.
 
 Still soaking in the water, she let the one hand linger in her crotch, slowly sliding back and forth of the slight mound, while the other returned to her breasts...
 
 She only climbed out of the tub when the water was cold, feeling satisfied - yet, vaguely unsatisfied, wanting more, but of something better.
 
 Shortly after, she once more felt the wrenching pain - the experiences of being female were great, but there could have been a better transition, Steve though, a bit sourly - then he was once more in his male body.
 
 Making a mental 'to-do' list, Steve headed off to bed, anticipating a long - and highly interesting - day tomorrow.
 
 Reaching his bedroom, Steve rummaged around, digging through every article of clothing he owned until he found what he wanted - or something similar, at least. Since there was a four-hour delay at this point, he had pre-figured it. Pulling on his chosen clothing - some of which was a poor fit - Steve pulled on the shoes and lay down on top of the covers.
 
 Sleep was long in coming, but there was one definite advantage to the 'change while you sleep method' - when the brief pain hit, Steve just muttered in her sleep, then rolled over and continued her slumber.
 
 * * * * *
 
 As soon as she awoke the next morning, Steve knew that the change had occurred during the night. It was easy - the ceiling was clearly in focus. Steve, of course, didn't wear glasses to bed - and her altered eyes were now perfect without any artificial lenses. Slowly, Steve sat up, feeling the new way that her altered body changed - the shift of the breasts on her chest, the padded feeling of her new ass...
 
 Looking down, Steve saw her shirt straining to contain a pair of what must have been at least DDD-cup breasts. The neckline of the black spandex tank-top was sufficiently stretched by her large, firm endowments to display an awesome cleavage - especially from this angle. Eagerly, Steve swung her feet - clad in knee-high black suede boots with a five-inch heel - over the edge of the bed. She hurried into the bathroom to see her altered self in the mirror.
 
 It was quite a sight.
 
 The boots that clad her now-dainty feel also covered the lower half of the skin-tight jeans that, in turn, clung like a second skin to her shapely new legs. The womanly new hips flared dramatically before narrowing to a pleasantly slender waist. Above that, the skin-tight black spandex clearly outlined her firm, sexy new globes.
 
 Her face was still vaguely related to the male Steve - but now, she was lovely. Long, golden-blonde hair framed a face of simple beauty, even without the enhancement of makeup. As an added bonus, there were no glasses to obstruct her large, attractive eyes. Steve smiled at the reflection, and shimmied her slender shoulders to feel her large new tits to jiggle and sway. "Whoa - these could be fun..." Steve said to herself, gently sliding on hand across the taut fabric over the breast.
 
 Tempted as she was to indulge in the pleasure, she had things to do - first of which was buy some more shoes. She didn't want to walk around barefoot, but she also couldn't keep the shoes on too long - it would take eight hours to change back after she removed them. She needed something to wear for those hours.
 
 Quickly, Steve jiggled and swayed out to the living room. She grabbed her money and bank-card from her wallet, then slipped on a pair of sunglasses and headed out.
 
 Going down the stairs, Steve nearly broke her slender neck - she slowed down immediately with a wry grin. The five-inch stiletto heels was bad enough, no matter how incredibly comfortable the boots were. The severely altered center-of-balance was worse - her large tits, firm as they were, still bobbled and swayed without the support of a bra, and tended to unbalance her. She had to resort to a slower pace, and pick up the habit of swaying her hips more - swiveling them - to counter the bounce and jostle of her new endowments.
 
 Stepping out of the building, the warm sun shone down from a deep blue sky as she headed out at a brisk walk. She did own a car - but taking it right now would be a bad idea, since 'she' didn't have a license - a very male Stephen Zink did.
 
 It didn't take long for her to notice the rather frank appreciative glances she got from men she passed. She smiled inwardly at their reactions, wondering how they'd react to the truth - then started smiling outwardly as well, catching the men's eyes briefly with her own, sometimes nodding to them.
 
 In short, she was doing some low-level flirting.
 
 She was in a minor heaven. She was embarrassed when she started doing it, but that quickly faded, leaving only the exhilaration. It was strange to think that she was flirting with guys - but that was just it. She wasn't Steve as far as the world was concerned - she was somebody else entirely. It was exhilarating, it was liberating, it was fun...
 
 ...it was pure freedom. There was no real limitations on what she could do without repercussions from society. She wasn't criminally inclined, but that didn't change the concept - if she wanted to, she could commit murder in broad daylight and get away with it if she could just avoid the police for the eight-hour period. Because, technically speaking, the large-breasted woman who committed the crime...didn't exist.
 
 Steve marveled at the incredible freedom she had now as she walked along, enjoying the way people reacted to her presence. She could do - or be - anything she wanted, for the periods of time she wasn't 'himself'. It was with that thought that she reached a store she hadn't originally intended to shop at. But, looking in the window, she smiled broadly and went in.
 
 When she emerged, half-an-hour later, she carried a bag with the store's name on it. But, it didn't contain any of the store's products. Instead, the clothes she'd left with were in it - and the shoes.
 
 Steve sauntered down the street, putting a little extra 'oomph' in her movements. Thigh high black leather boots, laced up the back, encased her legs in their tight grip, and she balanced atop the boot's seven-inch heels. A pair of super-tight black leather pants disappeared down the boots, the taut crotch of the pants displaying the complete lack of male genitalia - and gently caressing her mound with each step.
 
 The...shirt? Top...? Steve wore was interesting - it was basically a black-and-purple corset that cinched in her waist, with black spandex that - barely - encased her large, and now bra-encased - breasts. Steve looked incredibly sexy, and knew it - but wasn't quite satisfied.
 
 A stop at a salon that did her hair and makeup rectified that. And, on a sinful whim, she made one last purchase before going for lunch. She was short on cash, having discovered just how expensive women's clothing was. Especially the boots. Steve decided to splurge the last of her ready cash at a pub-style bar-and-grill. With her gloss-red lips in a smile, she jiggled and swayed into the building, enjoying the slight dip in noise level as the mostly male clientele took in the stunningly sexy woman in their midst.
 
 Steve headed toward a small, unoccupied booth, turning to wink slightly at a small gaggle of men...
 
 ...then stopped short as a delightfully naughty thought struck her. For a second, Steve couldn't believe she was actually considering it - but then again...
 
 ...why not?
 
 Turning, she made her way to the four gaping young men in the large booth. Fairly average looking, the men couldn't believe this blonde goddess was walking toward them. They were even more amazed when she smiled seductively and spoke in a smoky voice. "Hi - I'm Stevi." She leaned forward, offering a view of her cleavage. "Mind if I join you, gentlemen?"
 
 There was an immediate, if somewhat restrained, battle over who sat where, ending up with Steve in the middle between two lucky guys on one side, while the other two had to be content with sitting across from her and ogling her scrumptious cleavage.
 
 The men vied for her attention during the meal, and she immersed herself in the routine, flirting outrageously. She was constantly brought up short with the realization of what she was doing - and each time she merely shrugged it off. It didn't matter. Gradually, as she managed to force herself to tackle the next step, her flirting became more and more outgoing - by the end of the meal (which the guys paid for), Steve was shamelessly touching the young men fairly often - a hand on their arm as she laughed at their jokes, a hand on the thigh when she was talking to them - and, to their delight and Steve's physical enjoyment, her breasts pushing against their shoulders when she turned toward the windows - which she found herself doing fairly often. The sensation of her spandex-encased tits brushing across the men's shoulders just felt so good. The only thing that seriously embarrassed her was the two times she caught herself lightly fondling her crotch beneath the table, without even noticing she'd started doing so.
 
 In short, she was amazed to find herself becoming turned on by the guys. But the sensation of arousal was also extremely enjoyable, and she wasn't really in a hurry to end it - so it was with some reluctance that she told the guys she had to leave.
 
 When they offered to pay for her cab fare home, she agreed, as it let them walk her out to the curb and wait for the cab.
 
 Under the circumstances, she could hardly refuse them each a kiss before she left - could she?
 
 Even as she leaned forward in the first man's embrace, she couldn't believe she was doing this. It was too much, too quickly...
 
 ...but before she could pull away, they were kissing - and all of Steve's reasons for stopping were blown away by the kiss itself. Her arousal hit a new peak, and she became a willing participant in the kiss, kissing the man back hungrily. She didn't even hesitate when it was the other guys' turns.
 
 * * * * *
 
 Steve all but ran into the apartment. The instant the door closed behind her, she was shedding clothes as she headed toward the bedroom. She only had about an hour of being female left, and she didn't want to waste a second of it. By the time she entered the bedroom, she was completely naked - and in her hand was the sinful purchase she'd made. When she'd bought it, it was for possible use later - now it was a necessity.
 
 Throwing herself on the bed, Steve just looked at the smallish, bright pink dildo in her hand. But it wasn't truly hesitation - she was so horny that it was painful...
 
 ...in an unbelievably good way.
 
 Her cunt was sodden with all the juices her overly aroused body was producing. Eagerly, Steve brought the dildo to her cunt, and plunged it inside. There was no technique involved - she just pistoned it in an out, looking for release.
 
 She got it - five times. Five times an incredible orgasm ripped through her body, making her writhe on the bed in ecstasy, her breath coming in gasps. Her body shuddered and shook in the throes of ecstasy as she pounded the plastic phallus in and out of her hot, wet cunt, without any true thought involved.
 
 Finally, she was satisfied - her needs had been met. Dropping the dildo to the floor, the exhausted woman lay staring at the ceiling, trying to get her mind to calm down so that she could consider just what she'd done, just how she'd acted today. Somehow, things had gotten out of hand, going much further than she'd intended - even if she did enjoy it...all of it...
 
 Still thinking about the pleasure of the day, Steve drifted off into a sleep so deep, that he didn't even notice the brief blast of pain as he switched back.
 
 * * * * * *
 
 For the next five days, Steve didn't even touch the shoes.
 
 Part of it was the fact that he had to go to work each day, and couldn't spare the time. But Steve actually blessed that fact, as he used the time to try and work things out in his own mind. The way that he'd acted with sheer abandonment scared him slightly - yet the shoes seemed to send a siren call out to him, urging him to try them again. Steve, however, successfully ignored the call all week.
 
 Friday, however, was a lot harder. All day long, his work went by in a haze as he thought about the shoes - and the weekend he had coming up. By the time he walked in the door that evening, he'd come to a decision - a regretful one. It would take sixteen hours for him to change to a woman - then, if he pulled the shoes off immediately, it would be another thirty-two hours before he was male again. Steve just couldn't take that risk, not now. With a deep sigh, he picked up the shoes, and carried them to where the box they'd come in sat, undisturbed. Lifting up the tissue paper padding, he prepared to store the shoes away until ready to used them again...
 
 ...and that's when he noticed the small booklet labeled 'operating instructions.'
 
 * * * * *
 
 Steve sat in front of his computer dressed only in a bathrobe. Sitting on the floor, only inches from his feet, were the 'magic shoes' - although he still wasn't sure if he was going to use them. Instead, he waited, staring at the screen as, every few seconds, another random drawing flashed on the screen.
 
 Steve had learned that what he'd experienced so far was basically the 'demo' mode. The shoes did that to acclimate the user. Now, they were set - by his failure to use them in more than forty-eight hours - to full operation mode.
 
 Which was simple. All he had to do was touch an image while wearing the shoes - any image. He'd then be transported into the setting of the image, as the female person he touched. He- or she - would remain in the new 'world' of the image until the 'spell' that ran the shoes considered the 'scene' complete. That's all there was to it.
 
 Simple.
 
 Steve swallowed again. The image he wanted came up occasionally through the website's random slideshow, but he was still hesitant. The 'fan-art' of the lithe, buxom semi-Michelle Pfieffer Catwoman still enticed him, but he wasn't sure if he actually wanted to be Catwoman for an indeterminate amount of time.
 
 Sort of - time in the 'other world', according to the instructions, passed at a rate of sixty-to-one. One hour spent over there was only one minute in 'the real world'. Plus, he couldn't actually be harmed - well, the 'him him' couldn't - the 'character him' could.
 
 Finally making up his mind, Steve took a deep breath and slid his feet into the shoes. Leaning forward slightly, he held his hand near the monitor, ready to touch the Catwoman drawing when it appeared.
 
 Finally, it did. Taking a deep breath, Steve reached forward...
 
 ...an instant too late. His mind didn't even have time to register what the new random image that had appeared was before his finger touched the screen...
 
 In the real world, there was a brief flash of light - and Steve was gone, leaving only the computer, still flashing the random images.
 
 * * * * * *
 
 Steve gaped at the image reflected in the mirror in front of her, beside the rack of clothing. She was tiny - no taller than five feet. Her legs were incredibly long and sexy, leading to womanly hips that flared before leading to an astonishingly tiny waist. The waist was especially tiny, considering the two immense tits thrust roundly from her chest. The massive, nearly perfectly spherical endowments were - in Steve's estimation - at least MMM cup.
 
 Perched atop her slender shoulders was a long, slender neck that supported a face carved from pure sensuality. A pointed chin, tiny nose, and huge, bright blue eyes surrounded the fullest, sexiest lips Steve had ever seen. And crowning the entire package was the most massive mane of platinum blonde hair Steve had ever seen.
 
 She was still trying to deal with the realization that she was in the wrong setting when there was a knock on her door. Immediately after, before she could respond, the door swung open, and the most amazingly massive man Steve had ever seen entered the room. Easily six-eight, the man - dressed in traditional 'butler' garb - was incredibly muscled, with a shock of dark hair carefully combed over his massive head.
 
 Helplessly, Steve found himself staring down at the enormous bulge in the butler's crotch - which twitched.
 
 "Oh, my..." the butler said. "Not even dressed yet - you must hurry, Yvette, or Mistress will be most displeased. Roberto has breakfast almost ready."
 
 Steve tried to refuse - but, to his horror, found himself complete unable to do so. When the butler said - "Don't worry, Yvette - Joshua is here to help," she meekly allowed him to help her dress - fighting it in vain every step of the way.
 
 First, a thick black leather corset. Using his massive muscles, Joshua laced the heavy-duty article unbelievably tight, compressing an already minuscule waist. Yvette opened her mouth to protest - but nothing emerged.
 
 Next came a pair of fishnet stockings that attached to garters on the corset. Then, a tiny, fluffy black skirt, an a massive, lacy black bra that more enticed then concealed. A tiny white apron covered the skirt front.
 
 While Yvette numbly did her hair, makeup and jewelry, Joshua put her shoes on her tiny feet. Black leather, the six-inch spike heeled pumps had an ankle strap that locked in place - and a short length of gold-toned chain that ran between the two shoes, ensuring that Yvette would only be able to walk in short, sexy steps.
 
 And after she'd finished 'putting her face on', Joshua helped Yvette into a pair of shoulder-length black leather gloves that laced up the back for a tight fit. Another length of gold-toned chain joined two gold-toned locking bracelets that Joshua clamped on her wrists, ensuring that she only had limited hand movement, but was able to function, if she concentrated.
 
 Confused, worried, and shaken, Yvette minced after Joshua as they headed down a flight of stairs and into the large, airy 'breakfast nook' which held two people.
 
 The woman - a dark-haired woman of stunning beauty, dressed all in leather - presumably Mistress Lisa - was seated at the table. The massively muscled Mediterranean clone of the British Joshua must have been Roberto. Dressed in traditional Chef's garb, he was just laying breakfast in front of Mistress Lisa. Yvette was horrified to find a wave of gratitude wash over her, knowing she was just in time to serve her mistress.
 
 She struggled against the urge - and lost. Helplessly, she found herself mincing over to Lisa, who smiled cattily. Wordlessly, burning with shame - yet, somehow, also indescribably happy - Yvette began to feed her mistress, who lightly fondled Yvette's firm, sexy ass, and massive, round tits, causing incredible sensation to rampage through her overly-feminine body.
 
 Finally, Yvette let Lisa have the last sip off coffee.
 
 "Well done, Yvette," Lisa said. She smiled and leaned forward, pursing her lips...
 
 ...and Yvette found herself helplessly filled with a wave of longing and gratitude. Driven, she leaned forward and kissed Lisa passionately, using her long, limber tongue to please her mistress.
 
 "You've done well - now you may be fed," Lisa announced grandly, gesturing toward Roberto. Ravenous, Yvette turned toward Roberto...
 
 ...and watched, horrified, as Roberto unzipped his pants, setting free his monstrous - and rapidly hardening cock.
 
 Yvette gasped. She was disgusted and revolted - she was supposed to 'eat' by giving Roberto a blow-job.
 
 Even more horrifying was the fact that she oh-so-desperately longed to do just that. Her mouth was watering, and she was breathing heavily as she stared at Roberto's massive cock in mixed disgust and desire. She struggled against the conflicting thoughts.
 
 "Well?" Lisa said coolly - and that was too much.
 
 Helplessly - horrified - Yvette found herself sinking to her knees in front of Roberto. Her leather clad hands rose, grasping the base of Roberto's massively thick twenty-two inch long monster. Her soft, full lips parted...
 
 ...Inside her mind, Steve screamed in disgust and horror as she leaned forward, sliding her warm mouth over the end of Roberto's massive cock. Her tongue swirled over the warm, throbbing cock filling her mouth as she began to piston her head back and forth, creating a light suction as her amazingly full lips - cock-sucking lips - slid up and down the thickly-veined shaft.
 
 One of her manacled hands began to caress one of Roberto's equally enormous balls while the other hand - unable to reach all the way around the massive shaft - began to slide up and down the throbbing cock in time with her bobbing head. She heard Roberto moan in pleasure, and was horrified to hear an answering sound emerge from the back of her throat as her long tongue played over his enormous, rounded head.
 
 She was sucking the cock like a pro, porn-movie-sound-effect slurping and all, as if she did this every day. And to any onlooker, she looked like she was enjoying it - thoroughly.
 
 But inside, horror and disgust raged. She desperately tried to stop herself as the first few drops of pre-cum oozed out onto her tongue. But she was locked into the act, unable to escape. With all indications of eagerness, she increased her pace, opening her throat all the way as Roberto's dick vibrated in her mouth.
 
 Hot, salty cum gushed from the massive cock filling her mouth. Like a fire hose out of control, the incredible volume of liquid slammed back into her tonsils, then down her open, 'eager' throat, filling her stomach with it's warmth. The salty taste of it filled her mouth, and the smell of it wafted through her nose. She had a huge, throbbing cock jetting massive amounts of sperm down her throat.
 
 It tasted wonderful. Yvette was still disgusted and horrified at what she'd done - what she was doing - but it tasted and felt so good, so wonderful...
 
 Finally, Yvette licked the last few drops of cum from Roberto's softening cock and tucked it away in his pants. Awkwardly, she managed to get to her feet, still stunned, horrified - and so deliciously sated.
 
 "Now that you're fed..." Lisa said, imperiously, an evil glint in her eye, "you and Joshua can start cleaning the first floor..."
 
 Helplessly - obediently - Yvette nodded, and submissively followed the massively muscled man, shame burning inside her.
 
 * * * * * *
 
 "Well...I think that should do it for the first floor," Joshua said, as Yvette finished dusting the study. He looked around with satisfaction. "And quite quickly done, I must add."
 
 "Yes," Yvette agreed, shortly. The reason that it had been done so fast was her helpless, burning need to do the job as quickly and efficiently as possible.
 
 Yvette heard the sound of Lisa's boot heels on the polished marble floor. Helplessly, Yvette turned to her gorgeous new 'mistress' and performed a very sexy curtsey, revealing a massive amount of equally massive cleavage.
 
 "Done already?" Lisa asked, looking around. She was obviously amazed - Yvette, working practically by herself, had done an amazing job in a short period of time.
 
 "Yes, Ma'am - I'm..."
 
 * * * * *
 
 "...finished," Steve finished saying aloud, from in front of his computer. Slightly stunned by the rapid transition, he looked around.
 
 "My God..." he whispered in amazement. Then, slowly, a smile crept across his face. "The ultimate VR!"
 
 This time, when Catwoman came up on screen, he got it right...
 
 The end

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