Shortcut Through Ovid free porn video

As usual, you are free to archive wherever and whenever. Adult material, so use good judgement. Shortcut Through Ovid The Professor "Do you have any fucking idea where we are?" "Can it, Steve," I said calmly as I watched mile after mile of gently sloping farmland cruise by at eighty miles an hour. "Randy knows where he's going." I hope Randy knows where he's going, I thought. For the last ten miles, I hadn't seen a road sign of any kind. I didn't know if we were in Missouri, Arkansas, Oklahoma, or the dark side of the moon. We had left South Bend on Wednesday, blowing off nearly a week of classes. Some of our fraternity brothers were taking notes for us, so we wouldn't be totally lost when we got back. It would mean we'd miss a lot of classes, though, but what the hell? How often does Texas play Notre Dame? Besides, South Bend was getting cold and gray as October slipped away, and the forecast for the weekend in Austin was lots of sunshine and temperatures in the seventies. In fact, as we had traveled south from Kansas City, the temperatures had risen into the mid seventies, causing me to wish I had worn shorts instead of jeans. The trip had been my idea; I'll admit that. I had a cousin in Austin who'd agreed to put us up, and he had even promised to find some girls for us. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity. This was a one game only series, and who knew how long it would be again before Notre Dame and Texas played against each other? Both had national title aspirations, so it should be a great game, I reasoned. I approached Randy with the idea. Randy had always been my best friend in the fraternity. He and I had pledged as freshmen and had roomed together ever since. Also, Randy had a car - a fiery red Trans-Am that looked like it was going ninety even when it was standing still. His folks had given it to him for getting a 4.0 his junior year. Steve and Carl were two more guys who had been in our pledge class three years before. Unlike Randy and I, who both took school pretty seriously, Steve and Carl floated by with 2.5 averages. They were smart enough, but to them, every day was party day. When they heard we were headed for Austin, they tagged along somewhat uninvited. At least, I thought, they would share expenses with us. Unlike Randy and I, they hadn't worried about picking up class assignments. They figured they could catch up when we got back - if they felt like it. We got as far as Kansas City by Wednesday night. It was late, but we took a little time to party before holing up in a Motel 6 for the night. Kansas City isn't a great college town, but the bars and clubs in the Plaza district proved to be a great source of action. Nobody managed to get laid, but a lot of heavy petting went on in one of the clubs. By Thursday morning, we were all a little under the weather. Randy was driving. He wouldn't trust anyone else but me to drive his car, and I had begged off with a dull headache. Steve and Carl had gotten pretty well wasted, so they slept in the back seat while Randy drove and I navigated. "Head straight south out of Kansas City on US 69," I told Randy. "Hey, sixty-nine, mighty fine," Carl managed weakly from the back seat. "Don't we want to head out I-70 to catch I-35?" Randy asked. "We could," I agreed. "But this way, we avoid the turnpike. It will be cheaper, and we can cut across on two lane road and hook back onto I-35 in Oklahoma. Less cops, too, I would imagine, so we can cruise." It had been good advice at first. We didn't see a cop all morning and were able to cruise along at eighty. We stopped off for lunch in some little no-name town and hit the road again, after Steve and Carl had dived into a liquor store next to the cafe and picked up a fifth of bourbon. "A little hair of the dog that bit us," Steve explained, twisting off the top in the back seat. I don't know how those two managed to drink again. It would be Friday before I could face the thought of another drink. Steve and Carl nipped at the bourbon while Randy and I tried to figure out where to go next. "You should be coming to the road we need in about ten miles," I told him. It was at that moment that a battered red farm truck chose to pull out from an unmarked side road, directly in our path. "Jesus! Look out!" I screamed, but my voice was drowned out by the squeal of the Z-rated tires on the Trans-Am as we skidded sideways directly into- "God, that was close!" Randy breathed. Close? I couldn't think of any way we could have missed the truck. We had been headed directly toward it. The last thing I had seen before closing my eyes and bracing for impact was one of the big external gas tanks slung under the frame of the truck. We were going to hit it with no chance of escape. But we had escaped. I looked around to see what had happened to the truck, but to my surprise, there was nothing on the road. He must have gone directly across the highway, I reasoned. Perhaps there was another little unmarked farm road on the other side. "Where did he go?" I asked. "I don't know," Randy admitted, screwing with the rearview mirror to try to see the truck. "Wherever he went, I'm glad it wasn't into this car." "This calls for another drink!" Steve shouted with bravado from the back seat. It was met by Carl's childish giggling. "I think that's it up ahead, Matt," Randy told me, changing the subject. I looked ahead about a quarter of a mile at a green highway sign which said "Ovid 20 Miles." "There's no Ovid on my map," I said. "And besides, this road can't be the right one. It's too soon. The road you want has to be at least three miles further." "Well, it looks like it's going the right way," Randy argued. Without further discussion, Randy turned onto the road to Ovid. I looked carefully at my map. It was a good one, although not highly detailed, but I was sure that a road as good as this one should have been on it. And there was no sign of a town called Ovid. I mentioned this to Randy, only to be interrupted by Steve with a childish drunken "Are we there yet?" Carl gave out a sound half way between a snort and a giggle. He was equally drunk. "Quiet, guys," I scolded. "Who are you?" Steve asked sarcastically. "Our mother?" Carl chortled again. "Maybe it's a new road," Randy suggested. "It might not be on the map yet. And as for the town, maybe it's too small to be on a map like that." He had a point. The map was a couple of years old, and the road was smooth, seamless blacktop stretching to the horizon. Also, if Ovid was very small, it might not qualify to appear on the map. At least we were traveling in the right direction, and I knew that eventually, we would run into I-35, so no damage was done. Still, I would have felt more comfortable if we had taken the road we had originally decided upon. But I was too relieved having narrowly avoided death to argue. Randy was a safe driver, but a fast one. Eighty was nothing in a Trans- Am, and the newly harvested fields and groves of trees shot by with alarming speed. Randy's confidence and speed increased as we encountered no traffic in either direction on the road. The speedometer had begun to hover around ninety. It was then that we heard the siren. "Shit!" Randy cursed. I looked around away from the afternoon sun to see the familiar flashing blue and red lights of a police cruiser. "Where did he come from?" I asked. I had been watching the road for speed traps but had seen nothing since we had turned off onto the road to Ovid. But then again, I hadn't spotted the farm truck either. "I don't know," Randy replied. "I've been watching, too, and I never saw him. Hell, there hasn't even been a turnoff on this road, so I don't know where he was hiding." "Outrun him, man!" Carl called out. "You got a Trans-Am." "Right, Carl, and the cops got a radio," I said with disgust. It was hard to believe Carl was my age since he usually acted like a kid and Steve wasn't much better. Some people never seemed to grow up. Randy brought the Trans-Am to a smooth stop on the gravel shoulder, and the police cruiser pulled up behind him, lights on but siren off. Turning around, I could see that there appeared to be only one officer in the cruiser. He looked to be a pro, tall in gray-blue uniform shirts. He was wearing the mirrored sunglasses which always seemed popular in law enforcement. The officer got out of the car. He was hatless and about six foot three. Unlike the stereotype of local law enforcement officers, he appeared to not have an ounce of fat on him. His movements were almost graceful, and there was a purposeful quickness to his movements which made me think he could probably outrun a jack rabbit. He looked big and intimidating as he strode toward our car. "Is he state or county?" Randy asked, watching him approach in the mirror. "I don't know," I replied. "I haven't seen any state highway markers, so he's probably county." The officer stopped a few feet away from and slightly behind Randy's door. "Could you step out of the car, sir?" Randy slowly opened his door while I watched. Carl and Steve giggled in the back seat. "Hide that bottle, you idiots," I whispered to them, hoping the cop couldn't hear. "I need your license and registration," the officer told Randy, almost as if it were a mantra. I pulled the registration slip off the visor and put it on the driver's seat while Randy fished out his license. The officer studied it carefully for a minute through his mirrored glasses, then handed them back to Randy. "Do you have any idea how fast you were going?" "Um, sixty-five?" Randy guessed, knowing full well that he had topped eighty. "You were going eighty-nine miles an hour," the officer said precisely. "I'm going to have to take you in to see the Judge." "Take me in?" Randy protested. "But can't you just write me a ticket? I mean, we're on our way to Austin for the game Saturday and-" "I have to take you in," the officer insisted. "The speed limit through here is still only fifty-five. You were more than twenty miles an hour over that, so I'm required to take you in to see the Judge. Wait right here and Officer Mercer will ride over with you." "But there's no room," Randy argued. Besides, I wondered, who was Officer Mercer? I could swear there had been only one cop in that patrol car. "Your two back seat passengers can ride with me. They appear to be drinking, so I'll need some ID on them, too." Carl and Steve sullenly piled themselves out of the back seat, fishing into their pockets for wallets. Fortunately, I thought, all of us were twenty-one, so they couldn't get us on any underage drinking or contributing to the delinquency of a minor charges. The officer checked their IDs, grunted, and returned them. "I'm Officer Mercer," a voice said next to my window. "Please get out of the car and I'll climb in back." "Would you like to..." My voice trailed off. Officer Mercer looked identical to the officer who had come up to the car first. I don't just mean the uniform. I mean they were as identical as twins. "Would I like to what?" "Uh... would you like to ride up front?" "I'll ride in back," he said. Of course, I thought. If I were in back, I could get the drop on him. He wanted to be behind both Randy and me. "OK." I climbed out of the car. "Are you and the other officer related?" "Not exactly," was all he replied as I got out of his way to allow him to crawl into the back seat. I wanted to press him on his relation to the other cop. I know the uniform and the sunglasses helped to make them look alike, but they appeared absolutely identical to me. There was something odd about this, but I couldn't put my finger on it. "This is illegal in the state of Oklahoma," the officer said behind me. "What?" I asked, turning around to see the officer holding the bourbon bottle Steve and Carl had been nipping from. "This bottle," he said. "It's against state law to have an open bottle in your vehicle." "I'm sorry," I managed. "We didn't know." "Has the driver been drinking?" "No, sir," I replied. "Randy and I neither one were drinking." The officer just grunted and put the bottle next to him. Shortly, our two cars were caravaning into town, the cruiser in front. I noticed as it passed us that the logo on the side read "Ovid Municipal Police." I had an idea. It was a long shot, but I decided to try it. "Officer," I began, "you and your partner are town cop - er - police?" "That's right, son." Aha! "Well then, aren't you a little out of your jurisdiction out here in the country?" I couldn't turn around, but I swear I could feel him smile. "You crossed into Ovid the minute you turned off the main highway." "Oh." I had heard of small towns that had done that sort of thing. They would annex land several miles from the actual town for any number of reasons, but I had never heard of a town annexing twenty miles of open farmland. I thought about mentioning this, but something in my gut said it wouldn't do any of us any good. I didn't want to piss these guys off. Randy was a model driver, following the lead officer at a respectful distance. Soon we crested a tree-lined hill and I could look down into a pleasant little valley where a town had grown. From the top of the hill, I could see that Ovid was larger than I had expected. It appeared to be about the size of my home town, which was about fifteen thousand people. I could see the well-kept tree-lined residential streets, broken occasionally by wider business streets which converged on a downtown business districts with a collection of office building and retail stores, none of which were taller than three stories. We entered town on what appeared to be the widest of the business streets. Its curbsides were populated with gas stations, fast food restaurants, and a small strip shopping center. The only business which I was surprised to see was a place called Randy Andy's, which appeared to be a small strip club. Although it was only mid afternoon, there were half a dozen cars and pickup trucks parked in front of the place. I hadn't expected to see a strip club in a small town in the middle of the Bible Belt. We proceeded on down the main drag. Ovid was a typical small town with diagonal parking in front of the stores and a few of the local residents strolling casually in front of the shops. At first glance, it appeared to be the main street of a small farming community, populated by the usual casual folks you would expect to see in any small town from coast to coast. But it was here on the main street (which I later learned was actually called "Main Street") that I first noticed something odd about Ovid. The first odd thing I noticed - the first of many odd things about Ovid I was to notice as time passed - was the people. They seemed normal enough, but it was as if they were extras in a movie. They seemed somehow to be acting their parts rather than real small town folks. They went through all the motions, but they did so in a somewhat stilted manner. And they seemed somehow... transparent. I couldn't exactly see through them, but it was as if they weren't really there. I passed it off as travel fatigue. We turned off the main street about half way through the business district. A block west of Main Street, we came upon a gray granite building with Doric columns in front. The words "City Hall" were carved into the granite above the columns. As small town city halls went, it was reasonably impressive, but except for the Oklahoma flag flying next to the US flag in the grassy area in front of the building, it could have been the city hall of almost any small town in America. "Pull in that driveway," Officer Mercer told Randy. Randy followed the police cruiser into the driveway which bore a sign which said "Police Business Only." We parked next to the police car and got out of the Trans-Am. The other officer was opening the back door of the cruiser, motioning for Steve and Carl to get out. I was relieved to see they were behaving themselves. With those two, you just never knew. They were, however, a little unsteady on their feet. The effects of the alcohol were still apparent, and I was certain that the other officer had smelled the liquor on their breath. "I got a bad feeling about this," Randy muttered to me. "Me too," I muttered back. "Let's just hope they agree to a fine and let us go." "You don't think they'll put us in jail?" Randy asked, suddenly becoming even more worried. "I don't know," I said truthfully. Then I asked Randy, "Do you notice how much these two cops look alike?" Randy scowled the little "what are you talking about?" scowl I had seen from him ever since our freshman year. "Matt, have you been hitting the bottle with Steve and Carl?" I looked at him seriously. "Of course not. Are you saying you don't think they look alike?" "Well of course they don't look alike." I didn't get a chance to continue the conversation, because Officer Mercer was suddenly at my side. "Okay, boys," Officer Mercer said. "It's time to go see the Judge." Although our discussion had been interrupted, I continued to think about what Randy had said as we were led down a short corridor to a room with a brass nameplate declaring it to be "Court Room A." How could Randy have missed the similarity between the two officers? He was usually much more observant than I was. Yet he saw nothing unusual about the two officers. I shuddered suddenly. I had a bad feeling about Ovid, Oklahoma. I only hoped we would be fined and quickly sent on our way. I didn't want to be in Ovid after the sun went down. I had seen too many horror movies. I had also seen The Dukes of Hazard, and I will admit that I expected something out of that for a courtroom (and Judge). I was wrong, though. The courtroom was well appointed, with fairly new walnut wainscoting and matching furniture. The Judge's bench had a crest in gold in the center. I couldn't quite make out the picture on it, but it appeared to be a bird of some sort. Whatever the bird was, it did not look familiar. "All rise," Officer Mercer intoned needlessly, as we were all standing at the defendant's table already. The door to the Judge's chambers opened and the Judge appeared. The Judge was also different from what I had imagined. Instead of the tobacco-chewing good ol' boy I had expected, he was middle aged - perhaps mid-fifties - with dark hair that was fading to give promise of future graying. He had a neatly trimmed beard which was still dark but flecked with gray giving him a distinguished look. He wore gold-rimmed glasses which somehow made him look more scholarly. His black robe was impeccably neat and pressed to the point that it looked as if you could cut yourself on one of the pleats. My only surprise was that we were the only people in the courtroom. Granted, I only wanted to be a lawyer at this point, so I really didn't know much about actual court procedure. Still I thought it was customary to have a court stenographer there to transcribe the proceedings of the court. But, I thought, this was a small town, and they might be lax about such things. Then another thought crossed my mind. If there was no one in the court room to transcribe the proceedings, what was to stop Officer Mercer, who appeared to be acting as bailiff, and the Judge from fining Randy and pocketing the take? I knew there were such "speed traps" scattered across the country. "Is something wrong, son?" the Judge asked, and I suddenly realized he was asking the question of me. "Huh?" I replied, embarrassed. "Oh, I was just wondering -" "Where the court reporter was," he finished for me. "Well, yes," I admitted. How had he known? It was if... as if he had read my mind. Now I grew up on old Twilight Zone reruns, and I could almost imagine Rod Serling standing in the corner of the courtroom ("Imagine, if you will, four college boys, on their way to the big game..."). It was one thing for a town to have two cops who looked enough alike to be twins, but add that to a town full of residents who appeared to be semi- transparent zombies and a Judge who finished sentences for you, I was ready to leave. I looked at Randy, Steve and Carl. They were all tense at the idea of being in court, but I could tell they had noticed nothing out of the ordinary. "Well," the Judge began with a hint of a Southern drawl which I was later to realize was an Oklahoma twang, "we like to keep things informal down here. But I am planning to get a new court reporter in here real soon. In the mean time, we've just got to make do with what we've got. Do you understand?" "Yes, your honor," I said respectfully. I supposed if things went badly, Randy could always get a lawyer and appeal any decision the Judge would make. "Well, now," the Judge said, looking down though gold rimmed glasses at the paperwork Officer Mercer had put in front of him, "it says here that you boys were speeding. Eighty-nine miles an hour in a fifty-five mile per hour zone. That sounds pretty fast to me." "Yes, sir," Randy said respectfully. "Lots of folks get killed doing that kind of speed around here," the Judge said, his eyes burning into Randy. "You're just lucky our police officers caught you before you got hurt. Or hurt somebody else." He stopped for a moment, looking at Steve and Carl. "You boys been drinking?" Steve and Carl both turned pale and said nothing. "You might as well admit it," the Judge said at last. "I can smell it up here. Now how much have you boys had to drink?" "Just a few," Steve managed to say nervously. "Yeah, just a few," Carl echoed unconvincingly. "Well," the Judge said, casting a harsh gaze at both of them, "it smells like you've had more than a few. You boys are too old for that sort of behavior. How about you other two? Have you been drinking?" "Not today, no sir," I managed to say and saw Randy nod his head in agreement. "Well, then you're the smart ones," he said. "I'll keep that in mind. Now though, it's time for your sentence." Sentence? What was he talking about? There hadn't even been a trial. I looked at my friends to gauge their reaction, but to my shock, they were calmly staring at the Judge as if nothing was wrong. "Excuse me," I ventured. "Your honor, may I approach the bench?" The Judge squinted at me. "You're a little young to be a lawyer, son." "Yes, sir," I replied in agreement. "But I plan to be one some day." "Well," the Judge drawled thoughtfully, "given that you have an interest in the law, and given that we like to keep things informal here as I've mentioned, go ahead and approach the bench." I looked at my friends. Their calm stares continued. I was on my own here. Slowly I walked forward to face the Judge. "Your honor," I began, "I don't know that much about the law, but shouldn't you ask how we plead and then hear evidence?" The Judge stared at me as if sizing me up. "So you don't think this is proper courtroom procedure?" "Uh, no, sir. I'm sorry, but I don't." To my great surprise, he smiled. "It sounds as if I need someone like you around here to help me out. I wouldn't want to be guilty of improper courtroom procedure." The irony was lost on me. "I just thought, your honor, that-" His gavel came down suddenly causing me to jump. "That's enough, son. You were speeding and that's all there is to it. Now step back so I can pronounce sentence." I obeyed at once. There was nothing further to be gained by arguing with him. Suddenly the Judge stood up. He raised his hands over his head like a television evangelist and closed his eyes. I was so surprised, I didn't know what to do. This didn't seem to be standard court procedure. I looked over at Officer Mercer. He was watching the proceedings as if nothing were wrong. Then I looked at Randy, Steve, and Carl. Each of them stood rigidly, their eyes staring blindly forward as if they were in a trance. What was going on here? The Judge began speaking in a language I had never heard before. Then the courtroom actually darkened slightly, and I felt a soft breeze flow through the room. My body gave an involuntary shiver, as if I had experienced something frightening. I thought I could hear voices whispering to me on the breeze. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the breeze stopped and the lights returned to normal. There was a sudden crack of wood striking wood, and I realized at once that the Judge had resumed his seat and rapped his gavel. "Court is adjourned!" I heard him say. "What?" I asked as the Judge rose and left the courtroom. As I looked around, everything seemed to have returned to normal. Randy was all smiles. "Hey, man, do you believe it?" "Believe what?" I asked. "Matt, weren't you paying any attention?" Randy asked. "He let us go with a warning." I looked in Randy's innocent eyes with astonishment. He wasn't pulling my leg. He really didn't remember a thing that had happened in the courtroom. "Explain that to me," I said, attempting to clarify what he believed. "Bullshit!" Steve interjected suddenly, his old exuberance returning. "We can talk about it later. I'm hungry." "Yeah," Carl chimed in. "Let's get outta this place. It gives me the creeps." It gave me the creeps, too, but I suspected for a different reason. Carl was creeped out by the fact that our little weekend party was almost ruined by a small town cop and Judge. I was creeped out because there was something weird going on and I seemed to be the only one to notice. "The guys are right," Randy told me. "Let's get out of here. We'll find someplace on the edge of town to grab a burger and then drive late tonight. We can be in Austin by afternoon if we get going now." I was outvoted, I realized. But maybe they were right, I thought. I had just watched a Judge do his Druid act, but no one else seemed to notice. Why not just ignore it and head out of town as quickly as possible. I certainly didn't want to spend one more minute in Ovid. Officer Mercer even seemed to agree. "Come on, boys," he said to us. "I'll walk you back to your car. You can be on the road in no time." We walked back to the parking lot as I silently tried to convince myself that nothing was really out of sorts. Just when I was starting to think that I was just imagining things, I got my next shock. Randy's car was missing! I turned to enlist Officer Mercer's help when Randy called, "Are you coming or not, Matt?" I looked around at Randy and the other guys. They were piling into a car, but it wasn't Randy's red Trans-Am. Instead, it was a fairly new dark green Taurus station wagon. Now I had known Randy for a long time, and I knew he would never have a Taurus wagon. He'd die first. "Are you okay?" Randy called. "Not really," I muttered, but only Officer Mercer could hear me. "Don't worry," he told me. "It's not as bad as you think." "What?" I asked, as puzzled as ever. Ignoring my question, he opened the front passenger door of the wagon for me and gently herded me in. "You drive carefully now. I'll see you later." Later? I didn't plan to see him ever again, but once more, I was the only one to notice. I decided it wasn't worth discussing. "You kids buckle up now, okay?" This was from Randy. What was he talking about? But I heard the distinct click of seat belts in the back seat. It wasn't like Carl and Steve to take the admonition without comment. But rather than their usual crude comments, all I heard from the back seat was soft, childish giggling. "Randy, what the hell is going on?" I asked as he started the engine and pulled out of the municipal parking lot. "What do you mean... Matt?" he said, almost as if he was having trouble remembering my name. There was a distant look on his face. "I mean where is your Trans-Am? And do you mean to tell me you didn't see the Judge's little high priest imitation?" "I don't know what you're talking about," Randy said, shaking his head. As his head turned slightly toward me, I saw his upper lip had the beginnings of a mustache. Randy had never had a mustache before. In fact, he had never liked them, even convincing me to shave off the one I had grown during our junior year. "I'm hungry!" Steve yelled again, but there was something not quite right about the way he said it. He sounded almost petulant. "Me, too!" Carl yelled, equally petulant. "Okay now," Randy said in a soothing voice. "Don't worry. Rusty's Burger Barn is just up the road. We all like Rusty's, don't we?" "You bet!" came two voices from the back seat. I started to ask Randy how he knew there was a place called Rusty's Burger Barn and how he knew its location, but I was sure I wouldn't get a meaningful response. I was starting to think I was the only person in the car who hadn't lost his wits. It was as if they had all been in a trance since we left the courtroom. Suddenly I heard more giggling in the back seat. There was something wrong back there. I turned around sharply and got yet another shock. Carl and Steve were both smaller, younger looking. They each appeared to be about fifteen or so, and their jeans had been replaced by blue shorts. In addition, Carl's face actually looked somehow softer than it had before. Both of them had childish grins on their faces, and neither of them acted as if there was anything even remotely wrong. What the hell was happening to them? Then with a sudden chill, I realized if something was happening to them, it was probably happening to me as well. With trepidation, I pulled down the visor. The vanity mirror was lighted, so I could see myself clearly. Whereas Steve and Carl looked younger, I looked somehow more mature, and my brown hair was now a dark blonde and growing longer as I watched it. "Jerry, stop the car!" I exclaimed. Jerry? Who the hell was Jerry? But Randy did stop the car. "What's wrong, hon?" he asked. Oh my God, I thought. Somehow I knew what was happening to us. Not the specifics, but I knew we were changing, and if I had to guess, we were changing from four college students into the stereotypical American family. That meant Randy was dad, Steve and Carl were the kids, and I was... "We've got to go back to the city hall. I have to see the Judge," I told him in a voice that suddenly didn't seem quite right. It was as if my voice had been shifted half an octave higher. "What did you forget?" Randy asked with irritation in his voice. "Just turn around!" I pleaded. Yes, my voice definitely didn't sound right. It was pitching itself higher and higher. It was a full octave higher now and there was a soft Oklahoma twang in it. I could feel an odd tingling sensation spreading throughout my body. "Okay," Randy said, "but I don't know why you can't wait 'til tomorrow." There was a soft twang in his voice, too. As we drove back to the municipal complex, I began to fear that we wouldn't be in time. I watched in silent horror as my body seemed to ripple under my clothes. I fought back with all my conscious will, but I knew instinctively that I wouldn't be able to hold off the changes forever. It took only a few minutes to return to the municipal complex, but I saw with concern that there were no lights in the area that housed the courtrooms. The only lights were from the police offices in another wing. I thought about demanding to see the police, but something told me that wouldn't do any good. Only the Judge had the power to stop what I feared was happening, and he was nowhere to be seen. Still, in desperation, I sprinted from the car and rattled to door to the court wing, but to no avail. Randy joined me on the steps, and to my horror, put an arm around me. "Don't worry, sugar," he said. "Whatever you forgot, you can get when you go to work tomorrow." I actually jumped a little when Randy put his arm around me. I knew what was happening to me. My hair was longer, touching my shoulders now, and my voice was higher, and I noticed I was perhaps four inches shorter than Randy. He and I had been the same height before the changes started. And other things about my body would be changing shortly, I knew. I don't know what bothered me more, the fact that my best friend had put an arm around me as if I were a girl who needed to be comforted, or the fact that it actually felt pretty good. I was becoming very confused. I actually began to cry softly to myself. I don't even think Randy noticed. Even if he had, he wouldn't have understood what I was crying about. Everything seemed normal to him. Steve and Carl didn't see anything unusual either. They sat quietly in the back seat of the Taurus wagon like the good little children I knew they were becoming. Each looked to be about eleven or twelve now, and Carl was starting to look quite feminine with a softer face and dark blonde hair perhaps five inches long. Their clothing had changed almost completely to reflect their new status as children. In addition to their blue shorts, each wore brown sandals and matching Six Flags Over Texas T-shirts. I had let Randy lead me back to the car, knowing that in his mind, he was leading his wife back to her seat at his side. That's what I was becoming, I realized. I could already feel indications of what was about to happen. I could feel my hair getting longer. I had never liked long hair, so its feel was unusual to me. Also, I was starting to feel my skin moving around, particularly around my nipples and my groin. There was nothing definite happening yet, but I was bracing myself for the changes I knew were about to occur. As I stepped back into the car, I unconsciously slid in as demurely as any girl I had ever seen. It seemed even I was to be affected somewhat mentally by the spell as well. But it wasn't just mental, I knew. I had worn jeans that day, in spite of the surprising heat of the day. But now I was wearing denim shorts that were much shorter than any I would have normally worn. Also, I was wearing sandals, I could see, with a small heel on them unlike anything a man would wear. As we drove away from the municipal building, I heard soft giggling in the back seat, rising in octave each block we traveled. I looked at Randy. He had changed the least of any of us, I knew. He was a little taller and a little broader through the shoulders, as if he had once played football. He was handsome (where had that thought come from?) and appeared to be about twenty five. The mustache he had suddenly grown had filled out, and I couldn't help but think it looked a little... sexy? No! Yes. No. I looked down at myself. My bare legs were now hairless, and my feet had been reduced in size. To add to my humiliation, I could see through the straps of the sandals that my toenails were now a frosted pink. I looked in fear at my fingernails, suspecting what I would find. And yes, they were the same frosted pink color now, and filed to a feminine point nearly half an inch beyond the tips of my now slender fingers. These changes were nothing, though, compared to the changes which were occurring over the rest of my body. I felt an odd twitching in my crotch and abdomen. It was as if my internal organs were being rearranged. I had little doubt that ovaries and a womb would be there in no time. As if to confirm that thought, I felt my testicles shrink and retract into my body. I gave a small gasp as I felt a sudden void between my legs as my penis shrank to nearly nothing. I knew I now had a feminine slit between my legs. The slit actually moistened slightly at the thought. On my chest, breasts were beginning to develop and began poking up into the soft white cotton top which clung to me like a second skin. My hair was continuing to get longer, and I could feel its weight on my head. There was a sudden pinprick at the lobe of each ear, and then I felt the small weight of earrings. I reached up to touch one, realizing as I touched it with my long frosted pink fingernail that it was a loop about an inch in diameter. "Cindy, you got any money in your purse?" So that was to be my name. It wasn't a bad name, I supposed. I looked down near my feet and saw a purse. There was nothing I could do but play the role, at least until I saw the Judge again. If I suddenly started claiming I was a guy, I would find myself on a one-way trip to Ovid's version of the funny farm. I looked in the purse and pulled out a wallet. There were two twenties in it. "It looks like forty dollars," I said in a voice that was now firmly alto. "That should be enough," Randy said. "I don't want to put it on a credit card." I felt something trying to get into my mind. It was as if there were a thousand voices whispering at me. Instinctively (woman's intuition?), I knew the voice were trying to change my mind as they had changed my body. They would make me believe that I was Cindy, just as they had made Randy, Steve, and Carl believe they were not themselves. I tried to shut the voices out, and for the most part, I knew I had succeeded. I was still Matt O'Hara, regardless of what my body looked like. I finally dared to look in the back seat, feeling the sweep of long hair as I turned. There, where Carl and Steve had been minutes before, were two young children, each about six years old. They appeared to be twins with dark blonde hair similar to my own, each dressed in white T-shirts, dark blue shorts, and sandals. But I knew they were fraternal twins, not identical, since Steve was now a young boy and Carl was obviously a young girl. "Are we almost there, Mommy?" the girl Carl now was asked in a sweet, innocent voice. What could I do but answer... her? "Almost, sweetheart." I don't know where the "sweetheart" came from. Apparently I wasn't completely successful in keeping out the information the small voices had tried to whisper to me. I felt an odd link to the children, which I recognized as what is commonly called "maternal instinct." I didn't even know their names, but I knew they were mine. "Mike, are you gonna get a Rusty Burger?" Randy asked, settling into his new role as the children's father. Randy, now Jerry, I realized, was dressed like us, in shorts, T-shirt, and sandals. He was a good looking guy, I realized, unable to shut the thought out of my mind. I felt as if I were suddenly gay even though I realized that the new plumbing between my legs made my thought about Jerry's looks completely heterosexual. "You bet, Dad," Steve, now Mike, replied. "Me, too," the little girl said. "I don't know, Michelle," Randy said slowly. "You don't seem to be able to eat as much as Mike. That's how your mom and I will be able to tell you apart when you're older. Mike will be the fat one and you'll be the skinny one." Carl, now Michelle, giggled so girlishly that I nearly shuddered. I almost envied the three of them. They thought they had always been the people they were now. Only I seemed to remember who I really was. But I knew that wouldn't do me any good. Until I could find the Judge, I would have to be Cindy Whoever, wife and mother, or I would probably find myself on the receiving end of whatever passed for psychiatric care in Ovid, Oklahoma. We pulled up at a brightly-lit building with a large smiling neon bull under which in neon was written "Rusty's Best Burgers." I got out of the car, trying to play my role, but feeling like a man in unwilling drag. As I shut the door, Randy called, "Honey, you forgot your purse." Well, that was my first mistake. I wasn't used to carrying a purse. I wondered for a few seconds why women didn't carry wallets like men, but the feeling of denim tight against my now prominent ass told me why. I grabbed the purse and slung the strap over one of my newly-narrowed shoulders, embarrassed at the feminine look it must have given me. The children Steve and Carl had become piled out of the back seat as if there was nothing out of the ordinary. "Mom?" the girl who had been Carl asked, sending a weird chill up my spine with the realization that in this warped reality, I was her mother. "Can I have a sundae?" "We'll see," I said in the best motherly tone I could muster. I have to play the role, I told myself. As we walked into the restaurant, I felt for the first time the sway of large breasts and ample hips. It was the strangest, most alien feeling I had ever experienced. I could feel Randy, or rather the man he had become, taking my body in with his eyes. I imagined I was quite a sexy sight, with my long bare legs and short denim shorts. I halfway expected him to ravish me in the parking lot, but he stopped short by slipping his arm around my newly narrow waist while the children skipped ahead of us, oblivious to both what had happened to them and the attentions their "father" was giving their "mother." Once inside the restaurant, I felt a new surge of embarrassment as every male eye in the place turned to look at me. Again, I felt as if I were in drag. But I knew there was nothing unfeminine about me. I hadn't seen my face yet, but I could taste the lipstick which had suddenly appeared there, and I was sure my face matched the rest of my body. Every man in the place saw an attractive young woman. I quickly rushed the kids to a booth, taking Michelle on my side while Mike and Jerry sat across from us. I nearly shuddered upon realizing how glibly their new names had come to me. "Hi, Jerry, Cindy," a perky young waitress greeted us. She was perhaps eighteen, brunette, and quite attractive. Again, I realized I could almost see through her. "Hi, Maxine," Randy, or rather, Jerry said nonchalantly. I just smiled and hoped it looked friendly. "I think it's gonna be Rusty Burgers all around, except Michelle will have a Rusty Junior." "Aw, dad!" my new daughter whined. "Don't worry," I said in my best soothing mother's voice, "you can have some of mine if you're still hungry." God knew I wasn't going to be very hungry. The thought of what I had become was enough to ruin my appetite. "Cheese?" "Sure. On all of them," Jerry said without asking. I was a little incensed. I was used to ordering my own food. "How about drinks?" "Choc malt," both kids said at once. "I'll take a vanilla malt," Jerry said. Then to me, "Your usual, hon?" "Sure," I said noncommittally. Whatever my usual was, I supposed this body would like it. "A Diet Coke for Cindy," he said. Diet Coke? If I was going to drink Coke, I never drank Diet Coke. Still, I reasoned, this female body had borne two children. It wouldn't be a good idea to let it get fat. If, perish the thought, I was stuck in it for the rest of my life, I certainly didn't want to be a fat chick. While I could see that my body was well proportioned, I wasn't exactly model slim even at that. "I've got to go to the restroom," I announced at once. I didn't really need to, but I wanted to get a better view of what I had become. Also, I didn't want to have to keep up my end of the conversation with my "family." They seemed to be comfortable with their new situation, but I was not. "Me, too, mom!" my "daughter" declared. It seemed as if going to the restroom in packs was normal, even for girls as young as - what - six? "Okay," I sighed, resigned to having to play the new role even in the restroom. Together, we marched off to the restroom. "Where are you going, mom?" Than god she had gone with me. I nearly blundered into the men's room. "Sorry, honey. I just made a wrong turn." "Are you okay, mom?" Was I okay? I couldn't say for sure. "Yeah, I'm fine," I lied. My first impression of the women's restroom was how much cleaner it was than the typical men's room. Well, I didn't object. If I had to use one, I wanted everything to be clean since I could no longer stand to do my business. As long as I remained a woman, I wanted to be able to sit down on a clean toilet seat. I realized with a pang of sadness that I was going to miss the ability to piss standing up. You never realize how much the little things mean until something comes along to take them away. Michelle marched nonchalantly into one of the stalls, and I could see her shorts fall around her ankles as she sat down, her short legs causing her feet to rise up off the floor. I was beginning to think of her as being Michelle now. It was not part of the spell, I realized. It was simply too difficult to think of that darling little girl having ever been a male twenty-one year old. Darling? I thought. I had never used that word in that context in my entire life. I supposed I would now start saying things like "Isn't that precious?" and "He's so sweet." How could I survive this experience without dying of embarrassment? While Michelle was in the stall, I used the time to quickly examine myself in the mirror. I was, I guessed, about five four or five five. My hair was a fairly dark blonde, slightly curled, falling naturally over my narrowed shoulders. My face was cute, for lack of a better world. I wouldn't win the Miss America Pageant with it, but it was certainly attractive. It looked a little like Meg Ryan's face, I thought, but perhaps I was just being generous with myself. My new breasts seemed enormous to me. I couldn't tell for sure, but I guessed them to be about a 36C. Later, when I confirmed this size by examining the label in the bra, I took no joy in being right. My hips were wide, about a 38, I thought (again, I later was proven correct). My waist was a little disappointing. It wasn't as narrow as I thought it should be. While it wasn't bad, it had probably spread a little with the birth of twins. Don't get me wrong - I was an attractive woman, but I was the type of woman who would have to watch her weight if she was going to stay attractive. I resolved next time to order a salad instead of a Rusty Burger. All in all, I was attractive. I wasn't model or TV star attractive, but I would probably turn a few male heads in a shopping center parking lot, particularly if I were wearing the tight T-shirt and shorts combination I now had on. If I were still my male self, I would be interested in this woman. Damn it, I suddenly thought. I should have brought the purse into the women's room. Then I could have found out who I was besides just Cindy. If I stayed in this body long, I would have to develop the habit of carrying it with me. Men had it easier. All I had to do as a man was stuff a wallet in my rear pocket. But I realized sadly once more that my new ass was far too large to allow me to stick a wallet in the tiny pocket which rested there. "Ready, mom?" Michelle asked. I hadn't noticed she had finished. "I guess so," I sighed. I was as ready as I could be. The meal was relatively uneventful. It reminded me of many a meal I had enjoyed with my family when I was younger. Mike and Michelle were fairly well behaved and offered up only an occasional barbed comment to his or her sibling. Ironically, as Mike and Michelle, they seemed better behaved than they had as Steve and Carl. At least some good had come from the transformation. Jerry, as Randy had now become, was not too unlike Randy. He was a little on the quiet side but polite and calm. I found myself comfortable around his new persona, at least as long as he didn't call me "honey" or "sweetheart." The Rusty Burger was actually pretty good, but I found I wasn't able to eat the entire thing. Part of the reason for my lack of appetite was, I was my newly diminished size, but a larger part, I realized, was my desire to not become Cindy the Human Blimp. I left nearly half of my sandwich and all of my fries. After we had finished, the kids and Jerry ordered ice cream cones, but I demurred. As much as I liked ice cream, I knew I couldn't afford the calories. I began to suspect that my shorts were a little tight not just to be sexy but because I needed to lose a pound or two as well. Everyone seemed to be having a good time except me. I thought I saw an occasional look of panic on Mike's face a time or two, but it quickly faded away into the face of the happy six year old boy he had become. Michelle daintily licked at her cone as if she had been a girl all her life. As Carl, I had seen him - her - eat like a pig, stuffing half an ice cream cone down at one gulp. Now, as a young girl, she was as careful about how she ate as a devotee of Emily Post. Jerry, my new "husband" ate in manly silence, watching his little family enjoy their treats much as a proud wolf watching his pack. I tried to look happy as well. It would have served no purpose for me to act out of character. If I were suddenly to yell, "What is wrong with all of you? Can't you see we're not ourselves? I'm supposed to be a man!" I would be locked up within the hour. I had to play my role as best I could until I could see the Judge in the morning. When my "family" had finished eating the ice cream cones, we went back to the car. The other three were laughing and talking. For them, it was a perfect ending to another day. I smiled and played my part as best I could, but I felt as if I were miscast in some bizarre play as I walked back to the car. At least it was a relief not to be in public anymore. Every male over the age of puberty who walked into Rusty's as we ate took a moment to look at my breasts. I felt as if I had been put on display. The ride "home" was uneventful. We had turned away from the brightly-lit business streets of the town and down a quiet residential street, flanked by large oak trees and stately houses. Soon, though, we were past the big houses to an area where the trees were smaller and the houses were newer but more modest. We seemed to be in Ovid's smaller version of a subdivision, the happy home for middle class Americans everywhere. We pulled into the driveway of an attractive two-story house with a well-manicured lawn. The garage door rose automatically and we pulled into a two-stall garage. A dark blue Ford Ranger truck was parked on the other side of the garage. Great, I thought. My choices for driving would be a soccer-mom station wagon or a redneck pickup. How small town could we be? The kids bolted for what looked like the den, and it wasn't long before I heard the sounds of a television spewing the cheap music and bad acting of some cartoon show. It was probably the Cartoon Network, I thought. Well, at least we had cable. Great, I could watch Lifetime, the women's channel. "Hey, kids," Jerry (for I was now thinking of him as "Jerry") called, "you guys get ready for bed. Tomorrow's a school day." "Aw!" two voices chorused. "Now!" he said sternly. "Okay," came the chorused reply. He turned to me. "What's wrong, hon?" I suddenly realized I was just standing there by the entrance to the garage. This was supposed to be my house. I was Cindy Whatever and this was my home and this was my family. My problem was that none of it was real, or at least none of it felt real. I just didn't know what to do. "Cindy?" "I'm okay, Jerry," I managed to say. "You don't look okay. Your parents are fine. That was the reason we went out to their farm today, wasn't it?" Was it? That explained why the family was on an outing on a school/work day. In this reality, my parents apparently lived on a farm and I must have been worried about them, so we had taken the day to go see them. Or at least, we had taken the afternoon. I tried to visualize my parents, but all I could see were the parents Matt O'Hara had left behind in Pennsylvania at the beginning of the school term. "Yes," I said mechanically. "They're fine." Jerry looked a little uncertain, but he let it drop. Fortunately the "kids" knew the routine for getting ready for bed and did so with a minimum of fuss. I was duly thankful of this, for I had no idea what I would need to do to get them ready. By eight thirty, they were in their pajamas and off to bed in their separate rooms. It was with a sigh of relief that I turned off the lights in their rooms. Jerry was waiting for me in the den. We hadn't spoken since I had gotten the kids ready for bed. I saw with trepidation that his look of concern was back. "Feeling better?" he asked. "I feel fine," I lied. I just wanted to get off to bed and forget this whole experience. With any luck at all, I would wake up in the morning to find this had all been a long nightmare, the result of a hard night of drinking in Kansas City. It would be Thursday morning again, and I would navigate Randy around the entire state of Oklahoma. I wanted to be as far away from Ovid as possible. Jerry rose from his chair and, to my alarm, slipped his arms around my waist, pressing me to his chest. I felt the not exactly unpleasant sensation of having my new boobs pressed against his chest. Then I felt with alarm something growing in his groin, pressing against my abdomen. Good god, he was getting a hard-on over me! "You need to relax," he said, his voice soothing. Oh, I did need to relax, I thought, but not the way he had in mind. I had been on the other side of this scene enough times to know where this was leading. No amount of soothing talk was going to get me on my back with my legs spread wide. But my new body had other ideas. Those nipples flattened against his chest were trying to get hard, and there was a feeling of pain mixed with pleasure coursing through them. Down south, I could feel my new vagina starting to moisten, and there was a tingling sensation in about the spot I suspected my clitoris lay. "Jerry," I began, surprised at how throaty my voice had suddenly become, "I don't think this is a good idea." "It isn't," he agreed, bending to kiss me on the neck. "It's a great idea." I could feel my heart beating faster. In my mind, I was a normal, heterosexual male with all the normal drives. I still found women attractive, at least on an intellectual level. The last thing in the world my male mind wanted was to have a man kissing my body. But my male mind was now attached to a very female body, and as repugnant as the thought of making love was to Matt, Cindy was beginning to respond. Involuntarily my own hands came up to grip Jerry's ass. It was rock hard, unlike the soft female asses I was used to holding. And instead of my large male hands, I was gripping Jerry's ass with small, delicate hands crowned with long, feminine nails. As if to contrast the feeling I was experiencing, I felt Jerry's large, strong hands grip my own fleshy ass, and I felt a little shudder of pleasure. There was still time for my male mind to assert itself, I realized. All I had to do was say "no." Just say no, I thought. Just say it... But before I could say it, my lips were covered by his. I felt his tongue pressing past my lips and into my own mouth. The time to say no had passed. I had begun to feel dizzy as my breathing became more rapid. No matter what my mind wanted, my body wanted something different. With almost no effort, I was able to shift my mind into neutral. I felt everything normally, and even reacted as a normal woman would react, but I no longer reasoned in the usual sense of the word. Cindy was now in full control, only I was Cindy. Still holding on to each other, we strolled into our darkened bedroom. Then, with a hunger too intense to describe, we pulled at each other's clothing until we were sprawled out nude across the bed. My body was on fire, anxious for the touch of my man. Our hands moved over each other's body's in a random frenzy. Then, suddenly, Jerry's hand rested between my legs, and for the first time in my life, I learned what it really meant to have a clitoris. I returned the favor, grasping his penis without thinking. In moments, he was inside me, sending tiny surges of pleasure through my entire groin. My male mind tried to resurface and stop the action, but my female body held any rational thoughts back. Then, without warning, there was a surge of intense pleasure which seemed to wash through my entire body. This was followed by a sudden moan from Jerry, and I felt something warm and wet coursing into my body... I awakened about half an hour later, disoriented and shocked to find my body both naked and female, held in place by a large, hairy arm. Then, it all flooded back into my mind. I was someone named Cindy, mother of two, wife of Jerry and... And that was about all I knew. Wasn't I something? I didn't even know who I was, and yet I had just slept with a man. Slept? We did a lot more than sleep, I realized. I carefully moved Jerry's arm away without waking him, got up, and went to the bathroom. Turning on the light, I saw I was no worse for the wear of the evening. My hair was a mess and my crotch looked a little sticky, but other than that, I was about normal, if being a woman after twenty- one years of being male could be considered normal. I washed myself off, paying special attention to the sticky substance. My god, I realized, I had just had sex with a man. I could get pregnant. Apparently this Cindy had done so twice before. What could I do? Then I spied a little silver container, circular in shape. I had seen this type of container before. Sure enough, I thought as I opened the case. It contained birth control pills in little slots labeled with the days of the week. It was Thursday, so I looked at the slot for that day. There was no pill in the slot, I realized with relief. When I got back into the bedroom, I saw Jerry had gotten up, put on some pajamas and gone back to bed without cleaning up. Just like a man, I found myself thinking. What an odd thought, I mused. After all, I was a man, or at least I had been. Yet I knew what to do as a woman after sex, almost as if everything I needed to know was buried somewhere in my mind. As if to prove this point, I realized I had absently gone over to "my" dresser, pulled out a short nightie, and slipped it over my head without giving it a second thought. It was like an autonomic response, like breathing in and out. I slipped gracefully into bed. Thank god it was a king size. The way Jerry was sprawled out, my small body wouldn't have had a chance in a standard bed. I lay there thinking about what had happened the last few hours. The day had started normally enough, but from the moment we had approached Ovid, my life had changed radically. Ovid. Where had I heard that name before? He was an ancient poet, I realized, either Greek or Roman, I couldn't recall which. I remembered a history teacher way back in high school talking about him. Yes, he was Roman, and he had written... the Odyssey? No, that was Homer. Let me see... right, love poems and something else. What was it? Then I remembered. It was called Metamorphosis, or something like that, and it dealt with stories of transformation from Greek and roman myths. Had there been a sex change in it? I didn't really know. My reading tastes revolved around the techno-thrillers such as Tom Clancy. I resolved to read it sometime since I now could be an entire chapter in the book. Apparently someone in this little spot of Oklahoma (or was it the Twilight Zone?) had a sense of humor. Okay, so what was to be done? I thought before sleep claimed me. I needed to get back first thing Friday and see the Judge. He was obviously the key to all of this. I would try to get him to change me back into my normal male self and my friends back as well. At least, the rest of my "family" thought everything was normal. They weren't going through what I was experiencing. But I began to realize the longer I was Cindy, the more I would begin to think like and become her. Already I had given in to the sexual needs of this female body, something that I would have never imagined only a few hours before. As sick as that made me feel in retrospect, it had seemed normal at the time. It was as if I were an airplane on auto pilot. If I just let myself go, I could act like a normal woman. How long would it be before being female and a wife and mother felt absolutely normal even off auto pilot? I had to act quickly, I thought, as I drifted off to sleep. I awakened the next morning to the sound of water running in the shower. For a moment, I forgot what had happened to me and thought I was back at Notre Dame, getting ready for another day of classes. Then I realized not only did I not have my frequent morning hard-on, but that there was nothing between my legs, and the weight on my chest and hips reminded me that I wasn't my usual self. I absently brushed a lock of hair out of my eyes and sat up, feeling the weight of my breasts shift. I bit my lip softly, tasting the lipstick which was there. It seemed as if every sensation was designed to remind me of my new identity. I got up, feeling the odd sensation of my nightie on my thighs and headed for the toilet to relieve a most insistent urge to void. Sitting on the stool, I once again regretted the loss of being able to pee standing up. This was most inconvenient. On auto pilot once more, I wiped myself and flushed. I padded back into the bedroom where Jerry had just finished his shower. He was standing in front of me in the buff, and I was embarrassed to realize that I was admiring his body. He smiled and grabbed me by the waist, planting a big kiss on my lips. "Too bad we've both got to go to work," he said. Work? I worked? Where? Thank god we both worked though, I thought. Otherwise, it would be back to bed for more bang bang. "I got the kids up already," he told me. "I'll get them fed while you shower. Then I'll take them to school but you'll have to pick them up from day care." "Sure," I muttered, not having the foggiest idea where Jerry or I worked or where the kids went to school or day care. How was I going to fake my way through an entire day? I still hadn't looked in my wallet to see what my last name was. He gave me another kiss. "You'd better get your shower or you'll be late," he admonished me. "Okay," I agreed. Where to start? I had no idea what to wear, or for that matter, even where my clothes were. The only women I ever lived around were my mother and younger sister, but I never paid a lot of attention to what they did since I was a kid and that was "girl stuff." Perhaps if I had been married I might have a clue, but I was at a total loss. I knew enough to recognize which dresser was mine from the array of cosmetics arranged on its top. Then I remembered that I had managed to find a nightie there the night before without knowing where to look. That had been in the dark, too. I tried to reach the same mental state I had been in then (minus the sex, of course). On auto pilot again to my relief, I went directly to the right drawer and pulled out a tan bra and matching panties. Okay, I was on a roll... Jerry was downstairs fixing cereal for the kids, so I didn't have to worry about stripping in front of him for my shower. I imagined that seeing me in the nude might lead to complications. I had been tired and confused the previous night, and we had made love in the dark, so this was my first time to really examine my new body closely. It was certainly an attractive body with large but firm breasts with alert pink nipples and areolae. My hips were, I thought, a little wider than I would have liked, and my waist was showing signs of being not as narrow as I would have hoped. Probably the result of birthing twins, I thought. My legs were terrific, though, long and well shaped with well-defined ankles. I would look great in heels, I realized with some discomfort. Before stepping into the shower, I took a moment to examine my face again since I hadn't had much time to look at it at Rusty's. It was a pretty face, but again, not beautiful. I could have been a cheerleader in school, but I would have fallen way short of being a movie star. Or maybe I could be in movies, I thought mischievously. I could dye my hair light blonde, wear a pushup bra, and be lounging by the pool in some insipid B-movie. The thought was enough to almost make me laugh or cry, but I wasn't sure which. My shower was sensuous without being provocative. I resisted with ease the temptation to rub myself all over like they do in the late night movies on cable. Maybe later, I thought. I had too many other things to worr