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TG Tales from the Panty Drawer 2 - It'll scare your pants off! (Two more twisted tales of poetic justice) by Jennifer TALE ONE - "They Always Go In Pairs" "Hey guys!" Stephanie shouted over the sounds of the boisterous crowd. "Linda and I will be right back . . . we've got to use the Ladies Room." "Oh come on Stephanie . . . not now!" Mark pleaded with a slight tone of frustration in his voice. "It'll take forever! The concert's about to start any minute now." "Well what do you want me to do?" Stephanie asked angrily. "Hold it for three hours?" "No . . . it's just that you women always take forever, and I've been looking forward to this concert all summer. I don't want to miss the beginning!" "Fine," Stephanie answered abruptly. "You guys just go ahead without us. We'll meet you at the seats when we're finished." Annoyed with her date, Stephanie grabbed Linda's arm and pulled her off towards the nearest restroom. They were hoping to make it quick, but unfortunately an all too familiar sight awaited them when they arrived . . . a line of at least thirty women standing outside of the door. "Great," Linda said. "Looks like its gonna be a while." "Uh," Stephanie moaned in displeasure . . . obviously annoyed at a far too frequent occurrence in her life. "Why don't they ever have enough toilets for us!? I'm so sick of this stuff." "It certainly isn't because we don't complain enough!" Linda chuckled. Stephanie had no choice but to laugh along and brace herself for the long wait. Meanwhile, out in the stadium, Mark and Jeff were hiking up the bleachers and had almost made it to their seats. "Don't you think you were a little hard on the girls back there?" Jeff asked as he tried to catch his breath. "It's not like they're being slow on purpose you know." "So what . . . " Mark said while taking a sip of beer. "Women are all the same. They just take their time . . . you know, gabbing with each other and stuff. Why do you think they always go in pairs!? It's some stupid social thing!" "Yeah, yeah . . . " Jeff laughed. "But I still think you should give them a break. You and Stephanie have only been dating a few weeks . . . all your gonna do is piss her off at you." Mark rolled his eyes at his best friend. He was just about to respond when the stadium lights shut off. "Come on . . . hurry up . . . the concert's just about to start!" About fifteen minutes later, with the lights flashing and the music blaring, Stephanie and Linda awkwardly excused themselves past half of the people sitting in their row . . . finally making it to their seats. Jeff gave Linda a smile, patted her on the thigh, and scooted over to give her his seat. Mark, made a poor attempt at humor . . . "Jeez," he said. "Any longer and you girls might as well have waited until intermission!" "Very funny," Linda said, barely cracking a smile. "It's not like we didn't hurry. It just takes women longer . . . we can't just "whip it out" like you guys can you know!" "Hey . . . it's not my fault," Mark said while trying to sound funny. "It's one of the advantages of being a man!" Stephanie was hardly amused. "Very funny. . . just once I'd like to see the shoe on the other foot! Sometimes you can be a real jerk." Sensing her anger, Mark tried to lighten things up with a little more forgiving tone. "I'm sorry Stephanie, I was only kidding around. Come on . . . let's not ruin the whole night over something silly like this . . . OK?" "Whatever," Stephanie said as she crossed her arms. "Just leave me alone for a bit. You've really ticked me off." A LITTLE WHILE LATER: Mark couldn't wait any longer as he sat with his legs clenched tightly together. Embarrassed by the real reason that he needed to get up, he told his friends the first thing that came to mind . . . "I'm dying of thirst," he proclaimed as he stood up. "Anyone want something to drink while I'm at the concession stand?" "I thought you didn't want to miss a minute of the concert," Stephanie said sarcastically. "Can't you wait five minutes until intermission?" Searching for an answer, Mark came back with . . . "I could, but it'll be faster this way . . . fewer lines." Stephanie rolled her eyes at his hypocritical statement as she slid her legs to the side to let him pass. He scooted by and then paused for a second to take some money from Jeff to buy a couple of beers. As Mark stood there with his back to Stephanie, she was taken aback by the sight that was only a few inches from her face. She discreetly elbowed Linda and whispered in her ear . . . "Looks like Mark's either put on a few extra pounds or he's washed his jeans in hot water!" Both girls giggled silently to themselves at the sight of Mark's butt wedged tightly into a pair of skintight blue jeans. A few moments later, Mark was making his way down the bleachers. "Whoa!" Mark thought in relief . . . catching his balance as he almost tripped over his pant leg. "That was close." It was bothersome to him that only a single beer had not only caused him to have to "pee like a race horse" . . . but now, had also apparently gotten him a bit drunk. Down on flat ground, Mark hurried back to the concourse and found himself almost sprinting into the nearest Men's Room. Once inside, he bellied up to the first open urinal that he could find . . . unzipped his pants . . . and went to pull out his penis as he had done some up-teen-million times before. Only this time . . . "What the . . .?!" Mark exclaimed. The man next to him turned his head instinctively to see what the problem was . . . Mark was groping at his pants with a strange look on his face. Offended by his odd behavior, the man quickly turned his head . . . finished his business, and walked away giving Mark the strangest of looks. But Mark didn't notice a thing . . . he was most definitely preoccupied at the moment! "What the fuck?!" Mark gasped silently. He looked down at his hand grasping the elastic band of what appeared to be a pair of sheer black, women's panty hose. "This is impossible! This can't be . . . " Without hesitation, Mark's hand made a beeline towards the unfamiliar sight . . . his mind not even registering the sensation of his nails catching on the delicate fabric as his hand slid between the pantyhose and his hairless, flattened stomach. He began to hyperventilate as he groped around the interior of his pants . . . praying that his hand would come across a familiar sensation. But instead of clutching a handful of cotton boxer shorts, he only found naked, smooth skin. Stunned, he quickly moved his hand to the left where a growing pressure was mounting as his widening hips threatened to rip his pants right off his body. With difficulty, he wedged his hand into the ever-tightening space . . . his fingers finally resting on top of a protruding hip bone and a thin strap of fabric arching high above it. Immediately, Mark slid his index finger underneath the lacy elastic band and began to trace it down towards the front of his pubic area. Once there, his hand came to a sudden halt as a small "V", of what felt like silk, disappeared oddly between his legs. He awkwardly tugged at the skintight fabric, wondering why there was no discomfort to his male genitalia. Then, like a proverbial "slap in the face" . . . reality set in. Not only was he wearing panties, but they seemed to fit his body as well!! Without another thought, Mark inserted his slender fingers between the panties and his belly, spread his legs slightly apart and plunged his hand between his legs in a desperate attempt to find something familiar. But it was not to be as his fingers moved over a neatly shaved patch of pubic hair and then slid into a warm, deep slit between his thighs! Mark's knees grew week as he steadied himself against the wall with his free arm. Looking forward towards the cold tile wall, his eyes widened at the sight of inch long fingernails projecting from his otherwise male hand. Then, with a sudden twinge of pain, Mark arched his back forward and let out a slight groan. His stomach began to churn . . . then strange crunching sounds started to emanate from his lower back and pelvis as they both began to contort into a new geometry. Mark looked down as the waistband of his jeans began to loosen . . . then as if someone was blowing up a balloon, he felt the seat of his pants become tighter and tighter. "Hey buddy!" a voice called out from behind . . . momentarily snapping him out of his trance like state. "We ain't got all day here! There's a concert going on . . . ya know!?" "I'll be done in a sec . . ." Mark stuttered as his voice began to slip into a higher octave. Again, the people standing at the adjacent urinals began to give him strange looks. "I've got to get the fuck out of here!" Mark screamed silently to himself. "I've been drunk before . . . but this is ridiculous!" Mark quickly pulled his hand out from the pantyhose . . . the snapping of the elastic making a large "POP." He then hastily grabbed his shirt and began to tuck it back into his pants. As he did, the fabric seemed to pull strangely over his chest. He glanced down to see that the buttons were missing on his oxford shirt . . . that the once thick cotton fabric had become thin and flimsy . . . almost like . . . "Oh God!" he muttered under his breath as he watched a pair of seemingly huge nipples began to push their way forward through the sheer, almost spandex type fabric that he now wore. "Nice ass buddy!" a man called out from behind. Sounds of laughter filled the room. "What are you . . . some kind of pretty boy or something?!" But Mark wasn't listening . . . he was preoccupied by the ever- increasing pressure building in his chest. His nipples began to burn with a heat and tingling sensation that quickly spread out across his tightening ribcage. Then, without warning, Mark's jaw dropped to the floor. Like some cheap special effect from a low budget horror flick, his once masculine chest morphed in a matter of seconds into that of some teenaged chic that had just gotten a boob job! "Come on asshole!" they guy from behind shouted. Mark's mind raced. "I've got to get out of here . . . and fast!" He quickly moved to zip up his pants . . . only to find the once simple task, an unexpected challenge. Not only were his jeans exceedingly tight, but manipulating a zipper with inch long fingernails was most definitely a chore. Once finished, he quickly swung around with his head down and tried to make a break for the door. Instantaneously, the room filled with catcalls. The men hooting and hollering in approval at the sight of what appeared to be a well endowed, young woman walking away from a urinal in the men's room. "Was it good for you babe?" a man shouted in mock humor. All Mark could do was run . . . clutching his bra-less boobs as he pushed his way through the hoards of shouting men. Once outside of the room, he lowered his head and ran . . . trying desperately to hide his face as he darted in-between the people moving about the concourse. With each and every step, his gym shoes squeaked on the dirty concrete floor until oddly, the pitch changed to the clicking sound of a pair of high-heeled shoes. He felt his strides starting to become constricted, as his already tight jeans seemed to shrink even more around his thighs. As he looked down, he was stunned to see a short leather miniskirt barely covering a pair of black nylon covered legs. Within a couple of strides, the new female garments caused Mark to lose his balance and tumble awkwardly to the floor. He quickly got up, tying not to make a scene. Winded and confused . . . what appeared to be a sexy young girl, brushed her long hair out of her face and propped herself up against a nearby wall. "Are you OK miss?" a concerned man said. Mark looked at the man oddly . . . confused at the sound of being addressed as a woman for the first time. "I've got to get a grip on myself . . . this can't be happening . . . I've got to be hallucinating or something!" he thought. But the long golden locks that fell in front of his face told a different story. Like a scared animal, a look of panic came across Mark's face. "I've got to get out of here!" he grunted. But before he was able to gain his composure and look for an exit, an old but familiar sensation returned. Instinctively, his legs clenched together. "I've got to find a bathroom before I wet my pants!" Mark thought. His eyes quickly looked around and found a nearby sign that read "Women", pointing to the left. Without hesitation, he quickly took off in that direction. As he turned the corner and looked ahead, he did a doubletake at the sight of at least 100 women lined up out of the restroom doors. "Oh my God! It's intermission." he said softly in a foreign, high pitched voice. Mark quickly scurried to the end and began to move about nervously . . . unsure of how long he would be able to hold it. After a few seconds, it was clear that he wasn't going to make it. He ran to the front of the line and tapped a woman on the shoulder while at the same time asking . . . "Excuse me miss, could I PLEASE jump in front of you? I don't think I can hold it much longer." As the woman and her friend turned around, Mark's face nearly turned white with shock at the sight of both Stephanie and Linda! "Sure," Stephanie said, after momentarily glancing down at the young girls huge, jiggling boobs. Mark followed Stephanie's eyes downward and felt a sudden wave of embarrassment. He noticed that his skin-tight shirt was nearly transparent . . . giving his girlfriend (and everyone else for that matter) a "show". "We've all been there," Linda added with a sympathetic smile. "I really appreciate it," Mark said sheepishly as he slid into the line in front of the two women. Scared to death that they somehow might recognize him, Mark stood frozen with his back towards the two women . . . his arms folded awkwardly trying to hide his huge breasts. But his fears were unwarranted . . . NOBODY was going to mistake him for Mark Thompson ever again. He looked just like any other woman waiting impatiently to use the Women's Room. Suddenly, Mark felt a tap on his shoulder. He slowly turned to face the two women. "I hope you appreciate this," Stephanie said with a definite chuckle. "My boyfriend Mark would never understand!" Both Linda and Stephanie began to laugh uncontrollably. Suddenly, Mark felt a small tinkle . . . he could hold it no more. Mark turned back around and started to cry in shame as he felt a wet-spot beginning to spread between his tightly clenched legs. TALE TWO - "Does it make my butt look big?" It was a beautiful, sunny Saturday afternoon in South Florida . . . a perfect day to relax and be with my girlfriend Susan. Unfortunately, I was spending it inside . . . and to make it even worse, I was spending it INSIDE a shopping mall! Susan was looking for a new dress to wear to a friend's wedding next weekend and was hell-bent on finding one TODAY. It was excruciating being dragged endlessly from one end of the mall to the other. We went in and out of every woman's department possible, as she must have tried on at least twenty dresses. I had done my best to be patient . . . trying to be a nice guy in hopes of not "rocking the boat." I knew from past experience that if I kept her happy today, our chances of having a romantic evening tonight would increase tenfold. But all of that was in jeopardy, as after over two hours . . . my patience was starting to wear thin. "You know Susan. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be today," I said trying to conceal my impatience. We've been in and out of almost every store in this place!" "I know, I know," she said in a slightly annoyed tone. "But I've just got to find something today. I don't have any time next week to get out at night . . . it's today or nothing." "Well what about that black dress that you tried on earlier?" I said in a pleading tone. "I thought it looked great on you. Why don't we go back and get it?" A look of exasperation overcame Susan's face. "Because . . . I've told you at least three times . . . it makes me look fat! It makes my butt look too big!" Now I was starting to get annoyed. Hearing this "my butt looks big" routine for the hundredth time in our four month old relationship was really starting to wear on me. "Susan," I tried to say passively. "You're being ridiculous. You're butt doesn't look big. You look great wearing anything . . . I just don't get it why you're always so obsessed with thinking you're overweight! It's not like you have to shop in one of those "fat girl" shops or anything!" "Shhh," Susan said while pointing over my shoulder. "Keep your voice down Tim. There are other . . ." "Don't tell me to keep my voice down!" I interrupted as my frustration finally boiled over. "I'm tired of this . . . It's the same old story every time we go shopping together!" I began to mimic her high pitched voice. "What do you think Tim? Do I look OK in this? Does it make my butt look big? And you know what the worst part is?? No matter what I say, no matter how good I tell you that you look . . . you still don't believe me!! How many times do I have to tell you . . . you're not fat!!" "Tim!" Susan said under her breath. "Behind you . . . keep it down." I turned around to see whatever Susan had been so preoccupied with while I'd been ranting and raving. As I did so, my eyes came across two women standing outside of a nearby store . . . two FAT women with a look of disgust on their faces; obviously both hearing each and every word of my little tirade. But instead of embarrassment, I only felt more annoyed that they'd eavesdropped on my private conversation. "There . . . look over there." I said loudly as I pointed towards both of them. "See those two women over there? Now that's fat! You don't look anything . . ." "Tim!" Susan interrupted from behind. "They can hear every word you're saying! They're staring at us . . . stop it." "So what," I said as I turned to face her. "I don't care if they can hear me . . . I'm just tired of this Susan. It's a beautiful day outside and instead of being able to enjoy it, I'm stuck being dragged around a mall with a girlfriend that won't buy anything because she thinks it makes her look fat! Give me a break here!" "Tim! Stop it. They're coming this way," Susan said urgently. As I turned back around and looked back towards the two women, they were indeed walking over towards us . . . whispering between each other. They both appeared to be somewhere between their late twenties to early thirties . . . one blond, the other brunette. If it weren't for being some 100 pounds overweight apiece, they might have actually been pretty. But instead, their obesity masked whatever traces of femininity that either might have possessed. As they approached, I could sense the anger in their eyes. I attempted to avoid a confrontation by starting an apology. "I'm sorry ladies . . . I was just angry . . . I didn't mean to be insulting. It's just that . . ." The blond put up her hand as if to cut me off from speaking any further. "Excuse us," she said calmly while she pointed over our shoulders. "We've heard that they're having a sale in that "fat girl" store over there. We'd just like to pass by." With that she grabbed my forearm with her sweaty palm and guided me out of her path. Almost simultaneously, the brunette did the same to Susan. "I'm sorry," the brunette said with a chuckle to her voice as Susan stumbled out of her way. "When you weigh as much as we do . . . the shortest distance between two points is a straight line." I once again tried to apologize as they passed by, but for some reason I just couldn't find the right words. Then after they had gotten some ten feet away, I managed to blurt out . . . "I'm truly sorry." The blond wheeled around and said with a glint in her eye, "No, not yet . . . but you will be. Both you, and your "little" girlfriend." "Just great Tim," Susan said angrily as she tried to wipe the sweat off her arm from the woman's hand. "Way to go. Not only did you insult me, but you managed to tick off two innocent ladies who are probably self-conscious enough about their looks!" Obviously frustrated that they wouldn't accept my apology I said, "Aw, screw them! I said I was sorry . . . what do they want?" Just then, I too began to wipe some perspiration off my arm where one of them had grabbed me. It was disgusting. Cold and clammy . . . it felt like pins and needles all over my skin. "Yuck," Susan said. That lady's hands were all sweaty! My arm feels gross." "Me too," I agreed as I tried to wipe my arm with my shirt. But regardless of how much I tried to dry it off, it still tingled from her touch. "I've got to go wash my arm off," Susan said as she glanced down at it. "The restrooms are over there . . . wait for me, O.K.?" "I think I'll go with you," I said. "I wouldn't mind rinsing off my arm either." So off we both went to wash-up in the rest rooms. When we were finished, I did my best to apologize to Susan. Fortunately, she was forgiving as she sympathized that a guy being dragged around through a bunch of women's stores must be difficult. I nodded my head and told her that I put up with it because I loved her . . . but that it was still difficult. She gave me an appreciative smile and said that there weren't that many guys who would put up with her idiosyncrasies and that she too loved me. Soon enough, the afternoon seemed repaired as we walked hand in hand . . . trying to put our little squabble out of our minds. "Can we look in one more store?" Susan pleaded with a pair of big droopy eyes. "If you let me, we can stop by Victoria's Secret on the way out and pick out something fun for later." I could hardly say no after a proposition like that. In fact, I could hardly keep myself from growing hard at the thought of seeing her in "something fun." "Sure," I said with a smile. "Maybe this last store will be the charm." Once inside the store, we made our way to the dress section where I quickly began to feel very out of place. Fortunately, the formal section was nearly deserted . . . only one other woman was browsing through the racks. I found a chair right outside the dressing room as Susan took an armful of dresses inside to try on. I had just begun to settle into my chair when I heard Susan call out from inside the dressing room. "Tim?" she called. "Tim?" "Yeah," I called back as I stood up while subconsciously rubbing my arm where the sweaty touch of the fat lady still tingled. "Can you help me with this dress?" Susan asked. "Can't you get it yourself?" I asked. "No, I can't quite reach the zipper," she said. "Come on back and give me a hand . . . there's nobody else in here." "What?" I said in a startled tone. "You want me to come in there!?" "Oh come on," she giggled. "The store's almost empty and there's not a sole around. I'll close the door . . . so if someone comes, they'll never know you're here." Reluctantly, I agreed. I turned to make sure nobody was looking, ducked my head, and scooted inside. Susan's head was poking out of the last fitting room on the right. "Down here," she said as she waived me forward. Hurriedly, I ran down to the end, went into Susan's dressing room, and quickly closed the door behind me. "I can't believe you talked me into coming in here . . . I could get in big trouble doing this you know!" "Oh hush and live on the edge a little," Susan smiled. "Now help me zip this up." Susan turned her back to me and lifted up her hair to allow me to zip up the back of the black formal dress. "There you go," I said as I finished. Susan turned and looked herself up and down in the mirror . . . scanning each and every inch of her body to make sure that the dress looked "just right." As she turned and glanced at her backside over her shoulder, she wrinkled her brow in disgust. It was obvious by the look on her face what was coming . . . "Ugh! It makes my butt look huge! Don't you think?" I usually responded with my typical "off course not." But this time, I agreed . . . it DID make her butt look big. I was speechless as I searched for what to say . . . the last thing I needed to do was to offend her. Then something inexplicable happened as I watched in disbelief . . . A strange look came across Susan's face as she began to shakeout her arms and legs . . . almost as if she had a cramp. Then she started feeling different parts of her body . . . moving her hands all over as she squeezed herself lightly. "What's the matter?" I asked with a concerned look on my face. But she didn't answer. Instead she turned and stared at her reflection in the mirror . . . her hands and eyes both stopping simultaneously at her breasts. She began to knead them as a strange expression of panic came across her face. All at once the flesh in her tiny hands began to swell . . . and swell. "Oh my God!" she cried in terror. Within a few seconds her bra had burst open, unable to contain her new proportions. She then reached down and grabbed her butt as it too began to enlarge. I glanced down and saw her panty lines beginning to telegraph through the thin fabric of her dress as her hips and ass grew to nearly double their original size. Suddenly, I heard a ripping sound and then a snap . . . Susan had a strange grimace on her face. While she moved about in a panicked state, I noticed a pair of tiny white lace panties laying on the floor . . . shredded at her feet. I couldn't believe what I was seeing! She let out a scream of horror as she held up her hands to watch them swell before her very eyes. "What's happening to me! What's happening to me!" she cried. Susan looked down at her legs as they began to push apart. Then with a clunk, she fell out of her high-heels, as they could no longer support her new weight. What were once a pair of beautiful thin legs, were now fat and ugly . . . at least two times their original size. She grabbed her waist as her stomach began to churn. Her gut began to expand, soon swelling to match the rest of her oversized physique. Then as I gazed at her gorgeous face, I watched a double chin begin to grow . . . her whole face puffing up like a balloon. I was stunned . . . what was once a walking hard-on had somehow turned into a 200-pound pile of obesity in only a matter of seconds. "Oh my God! Please Tim . . . help me!" she cried in terror. I was dazed . . . I didn't know what to do. "Susan," my voice cracked. "What's happened to you!" I reached up and grabbed my throat as I felt an unaccustomed tightening in my vocal chords. "Tim!! Your face!" Susan mumbled in shock. A strange tingling sensation began to overtake my entire body, almost as if all of my limbs had fallen asleep! I tried to shake them in an effort to get the blood moving. But instead of relief, I only found an uncomfortable squeezing as my skin pulled tighter and tighter to my body. A horrible pain began to develop in my crotch as I felt my jeans tighten to the point where I could hardly move. I looked down to see my pants digging tightly into my crotch . . . causing my flesh to 'part' to either side of the seam between my legs. Then, as quickly as the pain had come, it began to subside as I felt an odd churning between my legs. I hurriedly tried to reach down and take off my jeans, but was only successful in releasing the button at the waist before they began to remove themselves by painfully ripping apart at the seams! Within a few moments, my tattered jeans were laying on the dressing room floor . . . exposing a pair of fat, hairless legs. As I looked in the mirror, my eyes moved directly to my crotch . . . there the sight of my skintight boxer shorts disappearing between my legs caused my heart to jump. Afraid of what I might (or might not) feel, I quickly put my hand between my legs . . . "Susan!!" I managed to cry in a new high-pitched voice. "What's happening!" By now the swelling had grown to my torso as my dress shirt began to suffer the same fate as my pants. First the arms shredded like tissue paper . . . then the buttons began to shoot off like popcorn kernels, leaving exposed a wobbling gut of flab and a chest of ever sagging proportions. Proportions that I didn't like . . . especially when I realized what the proportions were beginning to resemble!! Breasts!! I grabbed them in horror as I tried to hold them back from growing any more. But no matter how hard I seemed to press . . . my flesh continued to swell . . . my nipples continuing to enlarge until I could feel them pressing into the palms of my hands. As I let go, what seemed like a pair of melons dropped to my chest and finally came to rest on my bloated stomach. As I looked down in disbelief, I felt strands of hair fall around my face. I was speechless as I realized that I too had somehow been transformed into a pile of obesity . . . and worse yet, into a woman!! Both Susan and I were in shock . . . unable to speak as we stared at ourselves in the mirror. She, the image of a fat young girl with a black dress stretched tightly over her huge body . . . myself, the image of an obese, half- naked, teenaged girl wearing only a pair of men's boxer shorts that were almost ready to burst. Then suddenly, I felt something hit my foot. I looked down and saw an envelope sitting on the floor next to my swollen feet. "Where did that come from," Susan asked nervously. "I don't know," I said. "I think someone just slid it underneath the door." With some difficulty, I put one hand on the wall and managed to bend over to pick the envelope. As I did so, I felt a ripping in the seat of my boxers. I quickly opened it up, turned towards Susan, and began to read the enclosed note aloud: JUST INCASE YOU 'LADIES' CAN'T FIND ANYTHING IN YOUR SIZE, WE THOUGHT WE'D LET YOU KNOW THAT THEIR HAVING A TERRIFIC SALE AT THE "FAT GIRL" STORE OUT IN THE MALL!! LOVE, BRENDA & JENNY The End