The Munsters 1-4: The Mary Mix-up free porn video

Please note: the only sex, such as it is, is found only in the first chapter. There may or not be more in the next installments. The Munsters 1-4: The Mary Mix-up Created by Joe Connelly and Bob Mosher; Parodied by Ron Dow75 1) Transformers The smoke from the cauldron that filled the lab was clearing. "Grandpa!! What have you done to me this time!!" Gloria Munster tried to bellow, as she held onto large mortared stones as she came down the stairs awkwardly in pumps. At the control panel of a bank of large black machines with gauges and meters was a pointy-hook-nosed old man who thought he look distinguished in his tuxedo with the red sash said, despite his roundness. "Oops! Too much reverse osmosis. Is you in there, Herman?" "Of course it's me! You gave me Gloria's body! I'm a girl!" He-she was indeed. The thing that had made it to the bottom of the stairs was a shorthaired blond young college student with a nice figure in a tweed knee-length skirt, and a white blouse with white embroidery along the front. "Well, look on the bright side: Gloria now has your body. She's no longer ugly," the man with gray sticking out from his slicked back hair said as he waved his hand through the dissipating smoke. "But she's a... a guy! What guy wants to marry another guy?!!" Gloria said, coming towards him like somebody new to stilts. "You are na?ve. Why in the 600 years I've been dead, I have seen..." "This is no time for your silly reminiscences!" On wobbly ankles, Gloria made it to the shelves nearest the stairs. "Change me back... Change US back! I don't want to have to marry a guy! What would Lilly say?" "Lilly doesn't have to know! I'll just reverse the reverse osmosis, and everything will be back to normal." The transformers were between two large cases of shelves along the wall next to the stairs. Gloria used the shelves nearest the stairs, with the powders, things in jars of formaldehyde, and fan club items, to make his- her way to the bank of transformers, "Right! You do that! And hurry! This bra is killing me." "That's what happens when a woman wears one too long." the old man shook his head. "Oh, and how do you know that?" "I'm over 600 hundred years old! I've been married 7 times, and have 'dated' hundreds of women." "But have you ever been one?!" "Yes, as a matter of fact, I have!" his gesturing hand ended its arc back on the switch. "I've transformed myself into just about everything. Once, I even turned myself into-" *Bamb* "Grandpa! Grandpa! Where did you go?!" "Down here! Down here, Herman!" "Grandpa??" Gloria said, approaching (knees wobbling) the spot where the old man had been standing just seconds before. There on the floor was a white, lacy bra. "Grandpa?" "Yes, it's me. I turned myself into a brassier!" "Well, you just... turn yourself back! I need you to change me back into tall, dark and handsome Herman Munster! Then you can be women's clothes, for all I care!" "I need arms for that. Right now, all I have are arm holes!" "I... I have arms! And hands!" He-she held up the slender ones; they had on blood red fingernail polish, and were perfectly manicured. "Unfortunately, the mind that has to use them is a clod. I have to see what you're doing!" "Right," Gloria said, bending to pick up the bra. But, then almost immediately straightened up again. "But if you're a bra, how can you see?" "Let's not get into technicalities you can't understand, Herman. Let's just say my essence has been reshaped. And that includes what mortals would call a ghost." "Ohhr..." Gloria said as if he-she understood. "Ghosts can see and hear!" "Some can. Most can't, because they lost the essence of what they once were." "So that means..." "Herman! Just let me see! I do not enjoy being bent out of shape!" "Neither do I, Grandpa!" Gloria said, bending over with a lower center of gravity to do just that. He-she could feel his-her bosoms (there was no less naughty word her could think of for them) fall more fully against his-her cups. "Herman!? Herman! What are you doing?!" "I'm picking you up." "I'm not in any place you have to pick up! Just open your blouse so I can see!" "'My Blouse'??" Gloria said, looking down at the projections within the embroidered bodice. "Grandpa... Are, are you saying..." "Yes! I thought you had that figured out: Why do you think your brassier is so much more comfortable, now?" "Ohhh..." Gloria smiled with lips that matched his-her nails as he-she rose again. "You're right, Grandpa," he-she said, as he- she moved his-her hands up to the elastic band, and moved his-her chest around. "You do feel much better." "Thanks. My essence is much better than that cheap material that Gloria buys in the discount basement." "Yes. It does feel like its made from a corpse." "Don't forget the warm blood." "How are you able to get warm blood from the Red Cross, anyway?" "Well, I use the transformers to... Herman! Never mind that, now! Open the blouse!" Gloria hurried to obey, and was getting down to the top of the bra, when, "Grandpa, I don't think we should be doing this! This is your grand-niece!" "Herman! I'm already wrapped around her breasts, how much more intimate can I get!?" "Well, you could..." "Don't even go there, Herman! I'm not: I'm up here around her chest. Look, Herman, if you want to get me to stop holding Gloria's breasts, then open this blouse!!" His-her hand slid down to the button under his-her jutting bust. "But, if I..." he-she said, like a little boy-girl asked to do something naughty. "Then don't look. Look, if it will help your conscience, try and remember that Gloria isn't really your niece. She's not even related to Lillian by blood." "Okay. I'll remember." He-she undid the button. "But she is family." "If you want to help family, open the blouse already!!" Gloria pulled the blouse open, just like Clark Kent did in the comics. Only he-she didn't feel like Superman. (Didn't Superman throw his chest out? 'Course, his didn't do it in two different directions.) The body of Gloria Munster stood in the dim cellar one thin stone wall from the sewers with his-her blouse open all the way, exposing fully her nosecone-like white lace-fringed cups with the pink bow in the middle of the bosom; which said, "Okay, let's see what we've got here... The control panel seems okay. Move me so I can scan the transformers." Trying to be a good boy, and not peep at anything, Gloria moved his-her chest, but not his-her head. It was an awkward position; and he-she teetered on the pumps. "Uh, oh. I see a problem." "What is it, Grandpa?!" "The problem is you're going to fall, you oaf! Take off those heels! I don't want you falling on me!" "But I could ruin Gloria's nylons." "Herman, have you ever fallen on breasts?" "Er, well, there was that time Mrs.-" "Herman, let me put this a way a 'man' can understand. You don't think you'll ruin them, if you fall down, and, say, "skin" her knees?" "Yes. I see what you mean, Grandpa." He-she kicked one pump off, and had a little trouble with the last. "What's the matter?" "Everything... moves, you know, in all directions." Finally he- she used his-her toes against the heel. "It's called 'jiggling', Herman. Surely, you've noticed how women jiggle, and wiggle?" "Lilly won't let me." "If I didn't know better, I'd say that the Doctor left something off when he made you. (Sigh) What a sad fate for the instrument of somebody condemned for 'gross and indecent behavior'." "Oo! The stone floor is dank! It does make you want to run barefoot." "And nylons wick, too." "Neato!" he-she said, looking down as he-she wiggled his-her painted toes within. "Now point your breasts at the transformers." Suddenly the giant rabbit-ear antenna's coming out of the black boxes sparked to life. It wasn't the hundred's of thousands of bolts they were capable of accepting, but the arcs that moved down them were impressive enough. At least to Herman's mind. "What happened?" Gloria asked. "It was tapping into Gloria's animal magnetism." "I would have thought Gloria's would barely register. She has such trouble attracting boys." "'Barely registering'? (Yeheh, ha, hah!) Gloria has more animal magnetism than Marilyn Monroe, Sophia Loren, Brigitte Bardot, and Lassie, combined! She's a phenomenon!" "How is that possible?!" "Herman, I'm trying to analyze my machines! Get your hooters closer to the meters!" "'Hooters'!? Grandpa! Such language!" He-she was shocked, but not enough to not get closer. "I know. You'd think after 600 years of rotting, I'd be fouler. My vocabulary seems to have sunk to the level of television. Worse! TV writers. No wonder I keep making so many dang blame mistakes!" "Do you see anything?" Gloria asked, scanning the gauges and revolving numbers with his-her breasts with the mad scientist on them. "You bet I do! Take me over to the fuse box!" When he-she did, when he-she ope... He-she didn't have the chance to open it: One touch was enough to throw her back onto his-her butt. "Oh, ooo, ah, mmm, ohhw, do I feel all tingly!" Gloria said, pressing the heels and knuckles of his-her little fists flat against the cold, wet floor (not to mention the heels of his-her feet with the curling toes). "You don't want to know where your nipples are poking me." "Are you tighter??" Gloria said, looking down, and being tempted to actually pull on Grandpa. "I told you this brassier was mixed with my essence. Just be thankful boobs contract when they, uh, 'feel the electricity'." "Grandpa, I get recharged all the time!" Gloria implored. "I never feel anything like this!" his-her hands were now trying to worry the tweed skirt, while his-her knee and legs wanted to move further apart. "First of all, you and Gloria are hardly alike." "You mean, she's a girl," his-her hands were pulling the shapely legs together by the skirt material it was gathering between themselves. "I mean, she doesn't need animal electricity to animate her! She has more than enough of her own." "Is that what's got her discharging?" "Did you know that the terms 'positive' and 'negative' were first conceived of by Benjamin Franklin? Did you also know that he didn't know which was which? He had a fifty-fifty shot, and he got it wrong..." "Grandpa, what are you going on about?!" the frustrated creature complained. "...So, whenever anybody talks about "positive" electricity being attractive, and "negative" repulsive, he doesn't know what he's... Nnyaha!! I can't take it any more!!" "The bra is moving!!" Gloria cried, his-her feet spread, but- because he-she'd yanked up hard on her hem-knees together, but straining against the material. "Grandpa! I... I don't think bras are supposed to move like that!" It was squirming about over his- her boobies like two declawed bobcats trapped in a girdle. "Lilly's never do!" The bra's squirming just about stopped. Gloria lunged forward, "Grandpa!!" first one forearm went over a cup, then the second went over the first (its splayed fingers under her throat), pressing against the cup. "I know bras don't do that!" The second hand dashed past the first forearm; all the fingers of both hands and the thumbs, too, dug their way down between firm, hot mounds and stiff, clammy cups. Just as he-she was going to yank, he-she flinched, yelling, "Or that!!" A tug of war began, where Gloria tried to pull the front of his father-in-law off, while the dirty old bra sucked and clung to his-her nipples with all its lusty might, cinching itself down against his-her shoulders with its straps, and back with the elastic band and snaps. Just as Gloria thought he-she might win the struggle, by pulling- shoving from below the cups-the bra reshaped itself enough for him-her to loose his-her grip. He-she fell backwards onto the damp, slimy floor. Gloria elbows locked, keeping him-her up, while his-her back arched, as his-her bra cups, especially those area immediately over the nipples, rose and fell in the same beat as percolating coffee. Whether instinctively or reflexively, his-her legs progressed further and further apart, lifting his-her hem to where, if there had been anybody in the cellar, they could almost see his-her panties (and would have if they had the right angle). Then, trying to help "bring it home"-Herman gave his foghorn imitation. It didn't quite have the same sound, when it came out of Gloria's throat and mouth. Or last as long; women had much smaller lungs, despite what breasts suggested to his man-made mind. Gloria gave up trying to lift him-herself up; he-she collapsed onto his-her back; his-her legs slid out straighter. "Grandpa, you can stop, now. Grandpa! Grandpa!! This is getting annoying!" Suddenly the cups around the nipples dimpled. It wasn't long before the dent was gone. "I have got to develop a youth tonic that doesn't give me the libido I had back then." "Grandpa! I hope you didn't do what I wish you hadn't done!" "Herman! How could I do that? I'm a brassier!" Gloria bent her head completely up-forward, and looked between his-her mounds, and saw, "There's cotton fluff between Gloria's-, her-v...." "So, I'm not as padded as I used to be." Gloria got back (unsteadily) on her elbows; his-her blouse fell off his-her shoulders. "Gloria wears padded bras?" "You don't think this shape is natural, do you?" "Well, you never know. I mean, she, being a Munster and," Gloria sat up (the blouse slid down further), "-Grandpa, let's not change the subject! What you did was a big no-no!" "Hey, we were both zapped with animal electricity! As you yourself said it, we had to discharge somehow." "Then why do I still feel tingly?" One hand was on the hiked up hem, pulling, the other was in a little fist on the floor between her ruined nylon-encased, very feminine legs. "How much do you think I can do for you as a brassier? Now, if they were "turned on", I might be able to... No, I don't think there is a delicate way to put it." "Grandpa! Please do something. It's not just one place. It's like-" Gloria was sitting on first one, then the other cheek, pushing with one hand, while planting the other back down between her legs. His-her blouse was well past down around the elbows. "You don't have to get into the graphic details, Herman. I was a woman several dozen times. Nearly half of them, the same woman." "Is this why you didn't stay a woman?" "Among other things. I was the one who originated the phrase, '90% of sex is in the mind'. And 'Imagination is the best aphrodisiac'!" "What has that got to do with my problem?!" Gloria was now rocking in place. "Speaking in generalities, men and women are opposites. Men have to think about having sex. Once he has it, it doesn't take long, and once it's over it's over. (He can roll over and go to sleep.) It is also not as good; but then, it's not as messy, and the precautions (that is, if the man even bothers to take them) are less demeaning. All that put together means that woman do not have to use much imagination when it comes to sex. (Using it to make it more acceptable is another matter.)" "Is the speech over with?" Both hands were now on the floor on the far side of her thighs. "Weren't you listening, Herman?!" "No! Not the way Gloria feels. I almost put my hands where they don't belong." "Okay, this is what it boils down to: Remember what Lillian is like when you want to hop on the pyre, but she doesn't." "Oh, Kay..." Gloria said, his-her eyes up, thinking. "Is it working?" "Well, she's giving me the warm shoulder, and the fiery stare; she's not being nice to me; I wish she would give me the silent treatment..." it sounded, with Gloria's voice, as if Herman's feelings were being hurt. He-she reached across his-her chest to secure the disheveled blouse. "Good! Once you're turned off, it's harder to be turned on." Grandpa then thought of something, "Unless it's that time of the month that..." "What? What time, Grandpa?!" That stopped him-her. "Nevermind! Not with your imagination! And with your marked tendency to hypochondria, I don't want you to get the idea it might be another time of the month." "Time!" Gloria started getting up off the primordial stones. "Oh, it's going to be dinner time, soon! Lilly'll expect to see me at the table!" The whole back of him-her was damp and covered with mildew, and other simple organisms. "What about me?" "You! I'm not going to show you! It's not proper to show things that shouldn't even be mentioned. Especially, not at the dinner table..." Even as he-she was talking, he-she was discovering how hard it was to stand up in a dress in a gentlemanly-like manner; the pantyhose didn't help. How would Gloria handle the problem? He- she let the blouse fall, hoping to make it easier. "Herman! I was talking about me, Grandpa! The mad scientist! Don't you think my own daughter is going to wonder where I am?" "Hunhh... You may be right. Of course, the way you behave, she could think you're just acting like a big baby, and are off stewing!" He-she finally had his-her feet under him-her, one knee lower than the one it was next to. "Oho, that's why girls have wide hips." "I do not go off and stew!" Then with a tone a great dignity, "I ferment." "No wonder you throw tantrums regularly," and he-she raised Gloria's body, breasts and bra; his-her face close to his-her cleavage. "Speaking of fermenting. (Sniff! Sniff!) Aren't people going to notice your smell. They'll think it's me! I mean, Gloria." "Herman, everybody in the Munster house smells like this." "They do?" and Gloria stood there remembering. "No wonder I don't notice much difference when I come home from the morgue." "Wait! Wait!" he-she said, raising Gloria's index, "Eddie smells like a wet, mangy dog." "And Gloria wears this special perfume I created: My "Home Sweet Home"! Guaranteed to attract the wholesome, All-American boy by evoking those smells he most associates with a happy home. (Ahh!)" "So?!" Gloria bent over to get the blouse from the cold, cold floor, even though she was covered with pleasant goose bumps. "So, slap some on, and nobody will be smelling me!" Grandpa found himself on a reverse roller-coaster ride; the boobs were the passengers. "But I'll smell like a girl!" he-she said, picking the blouse up. "Yes: baby oil, and talcum; fresh-baked bread, and apple cinnamon pie; fisherman's wharf-" "Grandpa! That's not what girls are suppose to smell like!" Gloria said, bring her top wear up with her. "Girls are suppose to smell dainty, and flowery, and, you know, feminine-like." "Herman. Does Lillian smell like any of that garbage?" "No. Lilly smells like... garbage." "See? To each his own. Now, let's see what we can do make this discussion on smells a mute topic." "But if I touch the fuse box, I'll get another shock. And my tingles have almost gotten to where I can almost ignore them." "Shoulders back! Tummy in! Chest out!" Gloria obeyed reflexively. (And dropped the blouse.) Then: A bolt of lightning ripped out from his-her right cup, striking the fuse box; another bolt came out of that, and into his-her left cup. Vrrr-POW!! Went the fuse box. The door opened, letting smoke escape. "Okay, Herman, it's safe to touch, now." "What did you do, Grandpa?" "If you take me to the fuse box, I'll tell you. I created a circuit, and the excess animal electricity was drained off into us. Especially me, the positive one, making me negative." "It was?!" Gloria stopped in his-her tracks. "Then why aren't I tingling too bad to be good?!" "Because this time, you're not grounded! (Yeha, ha, hah!)" "Oh!" he-she said, and went to the fuse box. Where he-she stopped, to ask, "How come we're not grounded, now, Grandpa?" "What a mess: Everything in the fuse box is fused!" "Grandpa!" "Okay, okay, already. Get the toolbox, and I'll tell you." And while Gloria went to get the toolbox from the bottom shelve of the set of shelves near the fuse box, the bra explained, "My machine can manipulate animal electricity for all sorts of ends. But first it has to collect it. The Munster Family provides plenty of positive animal electricity for most of those ends. But to be properly controlled, it has to have just the right amount of negative." The bra became tilted, with firm young breasts weighing down more evenly on him. "What do you have in here, Grandpa?! This toolbox is heavy!" Gloria grunt as he-she pulled on its handle (his-her torso muscles playing beneath flesh and elastic) tugging at it hard to get it to the floor. "You're a girl, now, Herman! Not that dunderhead that could lift half a car with one hand!" "Oh, that's right." It was an effort (and Grandpa could feel the pectoral muscles' contractions effect the mammaries), but Gloria's body was got it off the shelf. "Herman, have I been wasting my ecto-breath explaining things to you?" "No... maybe. There was something about positive and negative." "Right! We, the undead, are the positive. Gloria is the negative!" Gloria stopped to take a breather, and shake his-her tightening muscles (and the breasts returned to more of their usual shape), "Gloria's never negative! And Lilly always tries to turn everything positive." Gloria smiled and gave a chuckle through his-her nose, "She can be a regular Pollyanna." "Herman, you obviously didn't hear what I said about Benjamin Franklin. Positive repels." "And the Munsters are positive. Well, as much as I hate to admit it," Gloria said, pulling on the tool box again (and, again, effecting boobs and bra), "people do seem to be a little put off by us." "Right. That's why we need Gloria: She attracts! Together, she neutralizes our charge enough to keep the mobs with the torches and pitchforks away." "So Gloria's our opposite. She's negative." "And so am I at the moment. The bra, if you'd bothered to notice, isn't touching her body. "Like repels like"." "Ohh... You're right," Gloria said, pausing to shift his-her shoulders about. "You should patent this, Grandpa." "The electric bills would be murder. There would barely be enough left for hair dryers, curling irons, and hot wax machines." "'Like repels like', 'Opposites attract', and..." Gloria stood up, and pondered. "What, now, Einstein?" "If Gloria attracts... wouldn't she attract somebody her opposite? More like us?" "We don't want her to get hooked up with someone like us! It would complicate the calculations! It has to be somebody as wholesome, balanced: Neutral!" "Well... That makes sense," and Gloria lowered Grandpa again, and put his-her back into his-her work. "I guess. Grandpa? Does any of this really make any sense? Or is it just me?" "Herman, not only am I a mad scientist, I am also the count of darkness, versed in black magic: It doesn't have to be strictly scientifically accurate." "Oh! It doesn't make sense. Whew!" Gloria said, finally getting it there. "Where's the key, Grandpa?" "Uh, oh!" "Uh, oh? Don't tell me you had it on you when you changed?!" "Alright. I won't tell you." "Surely, you have a spare?!!" "I wanted to keep it safe." "It's in the toolbox." "If I had my own body, I could just zap it open, and get the key." "You "zapped" the fuse box-You can zap the toolbox!" "I can try!" "Uncle Herman! Grandpa! Aunt Lilly said to call you to dinner!" called a familiar female voice from up the stairs. "All ri..." But the bra quickly interrupted, "-We'll be up in a few minutes, Gloria!!" "Glo-??" "Will you be quiet for once, Herman!! Why didn't you tell me it wasn't just a simple body swap?!!" "I was surprised! Here I was, just dropped off by the company car pool; I get out of the hearse, and-poof! I'm in the living room! Besides, you dumb old mad scientist, why didn't you figure it out: You and Gloria's bra traded places!" "Oh, no!! Do you know what this means, Herman?! Disaster!!" "Disaster?! How can it be any bigger a disaster than it already is!?!" And he-she remembered, at last, Gloria wasn't wearing anything that covered those parts of her that were definitely supposed to be covered. "Herman, you know how goofy you can get?" "Goofy? I would hardly call my sincere good-natured attempts at honesty, and earnestness, and all that nice and decent 'Father Knows Best' kind of... Dignity, that was how Jim Anderson would handle a situation like this." "The word is Goof! Herman, you are our battery! If there are now two Gloria's, then there is no Herman: No rheostat to keep the forces of animal magnetism under control!!" 2) Howdah "What are you doing, Herman?" Gloria's bra asked Gloria. "I'm, I'm putting Gloria's blouse back on: I, I don't want to get caught with it off!" he-she said, getting it from off the floor where he-she'd dropped it (and sending his-her breasts down more fully within Grandpa). "Everybody might think I was doing something bad; naughty, even," he-she sounded as if he-she might cry. "But I can't see with it on!" "Well, too bad, you dumb old mad scientist! I don't want anybody to see you, either!" he-she said, looking down on his-her cleavage as he-she rose up again, and the breasts settled back down into him. "It'll be harder to breathe!" "It'll help me breathe easier. And, and besides, you said yourself you're now a ghost! Why do ghost need to breathe, anyway!?" Gloria put his-her first slender arm in. "Why do the undead need to? But we do. Herman, breathing is what animates us! -'Anima' means 'breath' And soul!" "So, are you saying that ghosts have a soul, or not?" Herman paused, with it up on the first soft shoulder. "Herman! This is not the time to get into theology! At least leave the top buttons open!" "No. Gloria... and me, are too modest," he-she said, holding the blouse's thin shoulder, while trying to get hold of the other sleeve. "Herman, if you don't let me breathe, I'll, I'll-I'll putrefy right on your hooters!" "And tempting me isn't going to help, either!" He-she finally got the sleeve. "Herman, I'm a brassier! I can make your life as a woman, very uncomfortable!" Gloria managed to put the last flesh arm in the last cloth arm. "My life as a woman is already uncomfortable. And it's only been a few minutes." "You think so!? Unlike Herman Munster, Gloria is a living person. Of warm flesh and moving blood... and adipose deposits!" "Adi... That word you just said?" Herman said, at last getting both soft but firm arms and shoulders covered. "It means I know how to pinch!" "Okay! Okay!" Herman said, looking around. As he-she started buttoning the top button of the blouse, the bra exclaimed back, "Herman! I said-" "I know what you said! I'm solving that problem right now!" he- she said, still buttoning even as he-she headed for the table in the middle of the cellar-lab. "My Bloody Mary?" the bra said, just before everything went dark. "It's not a Bloody Mary. It's not even the right color! It's chocolate milk!" "Not so loud: I have a reputation to maintain." "And so do I and Gloria!" "What's this?!" "You really are a dumb old mad scientist, if you have to ask that-It's a straw!" "A straw? To breathe through?" "Yes! -Grandpa!! What are you doing to Gloria's lady-parts now!" Herman yelped, staring down at his-her bust; it was moving without his-her doing anything to jiggle it. "I'm shifting around so I can breathe through the tube, that's all. I promise you!" "Well, okay," Herman said, completing the button down of the blouse. He-she still looked ridiculous, he-she knew, with a bent straw poking out between two of those buttons. Once he-she'd completed getting dressed: "Ow, oo." "Herman, you're moving the straw away!" "I'm trying to push it down. Everybody doesn't have to see me walking around with dumb straw where it doesn't belong!" "Hold on!" "What are you doing?" "I'm using my magic. I still have my essence. I'm shortening the straw!" Sure enough, that was what was happening... until it was barely noticeable. Noticeable, but barely. "Herman! Where are you going?!" "I'm going into Spot's cage," as he-she padded over to the floor- to-ceiling bars that took up a fifth of the lab. "But you'll deactivate the muffler! Spot will roar, and breathe flames, and get everybody's attention. He is a watchdog, after all!" "And, and you don't think that being caught in another woman's body won't get my wife's attention!?" he-she insisted, fumbling with the unsecured large antique padlock. "It's not "another woman": It's Gloria, your niece!" "That sounds worse!" he-she said, letting the padlock fall. "I told you, Gloria isn't really-" "Quiet!" Gloria said in a lowered voice, sneaking towards the back. "Spot's asleep. If I can just pull the chain to lower the stairs-" The mighty, scaly head stirred. "Go back to sleep, Spot. It's just me, Herman. I mean, Gloria. I'm not a damsel." At hearing one of its favorite words, the pet lifted its head high enough so that "Spot" could be read on the tag of its giant dog collar. "Careful, Herman... You're not Herman, any more... Stay away from those nostrils... one-" +++ Gloria didn't stop until he-she couldn't run any longer. He-she found him-herself on the other side of the street, clutching two very thick iron bars of a fence with spear-like spikes along the top amid barbed wire. His-her bare feet (the nylons' soles were now missing) stood on the bottom iron rail that was six inches off of the ground, and three feet from the sidewalk, because of the low brick wall. The back of his-her white cotton blouse scorched. "Herman, you ninny!! You don't run when you're on fire! Any schoolchild knows that!" "It worked! The fire's out, and I'm... I'm barely singed." "That's because I put it out!! And, boy, let me tell you it's not easy to magic behind your back, especially when you have no back." "Now, what do I do?" Gloria asked him-herself, not the troublemaker that got him into a her. "Go back inside! Without Herman Munster's body around to keep the animal magnetism in balance-You think you're in trouble, now!" "I don't believe you! You're, you're just trying to get Lilly and Gloria mad at me. And what about Eddie? What kind of an example will I, the big, handsome father he hero-worships, be to an impressionable young lad? He might get the impression that's it's okay to be a girl." "It is! Remember? I've been a girl several dozen times!" "That's because you're a dirty old mad scientist!" "No, it's because I'm a blood-sucking vampire, who has to case out who is a virgin, or not. And believe me (ye, Hah, he, ha!), those that weren't were more fun!" "Grandpa!!" Gloria said shocked. "Gloria? What are you doing on the other side of the street?" a wolf-boy in a "Little Lord Faunteroy" blue velvet suit who was too young to need a shave. "I can't let see Eddie me like this! It would shatter his image of me, and psychologically scar him for life!" Gloria said, turning and running up the walkway to the house as best he-she could in the tweed skirt. "Herman!! Why are you trying to hide in the place that's going to be the easiest for the family to find you?!" "I couldn't decide which direction to go!" And as he-she approached the stairs to the porch, he-she heard, "Be careful on stairs! Hooters don't like stairs!" "I just came running out of our house! Of course I know about- Grandpa, I thought you said you couldn't see!" Gloria said, holding on tightly to the railing. "I used my magic to turn the straw into a periscope." "But you said you needed it to breathe with!" "I can do both!" it said with insulted pride. But then admitted, "...Just not at the same time." Gloria made it to the porch without to much shaking going on down there. "There are lights on inside!" "Impossible! This house is a white elephant! No one would be stupid enough to rent this place!" Gloria didn't want to barge in to somebody else's place; but when he-she turned to head back to the sidewalk: Eddie was just turning to answer Gloria's call for him to come to dinner! He-she rushed inside. "Is this somebody else from your sorority?" an older woman in a dress suit and hat, and carrying a loose-leaf notebook with the "Howdah Realty" logo. "No! Who-What happened to you!?!" said the girl who had black and nearly stringy hair. (She was in a loose but light turtle neck sweater, black skirt, green tights, and mocs.) "You have no shoes, your nylons are in shreds, and... and-" said the girl with nearly bushy brown eyebrows. (The shorthaired blonde had a long red skirt, long open vest over a white peasant blouse, and calf-high boots.) "Look! The back of her blouse is scorched!" said the girl who was nearly too handsome. (The brunette with shoulder-length, brushed but unset hair, was in a cream satin shirt under a laced black leather vest, denim pants, and penny-loafers.) "Not to mention all the gunk on her being-laid-down side!" the first girl said, wrinkling her nose. "Mrs. Odums, we're no longer interested in the property!" 'Eyebrows' said. "Yeah, it was bad enough to know what our neighbors looked like-" 'Stringy' said. ("-Yeah, we could have used the alley, and not had to see-" mannish said, unlacing her vest.) "But to know they attack young women-" 'Eyebrows' said. "-And who knows what else-" 'Stringy' said. "I assure, young ladies, the Munsters do not have that kind of a reputation!" "'The Munsters'??" Gloria spoke up at last, recovering over how different people seemed from this height. "Those fine, decent examples of All-American Values"?" "I'm sorry, ladies, you were right. This young woman is obviously in a state of shock! Put her in my car, and I'll take her to the hospital, where the police-" "No! My sister was attacked once-" 'Stringy' said. "And my friend!" bushy said. "And the police are just about useless!" mannish said, holding out the vest to Gloria. "They're more interested in catching streetwalkers, than perpetrators!" "Right, Joan. Come, you can come back to the sorority with us." "Where do you live?" "Live?" Gloria took the offered vest, wondering what he-she was supposed to do with it. "I live-No. I don't want to go back there, yet." "Then stay with us for a while." "Joan!" 'Stringy' said through clenched teeth, "We came here to get an annex, the sorority is too crowded as it is!" "Then she'll stay in my room," Joan said, putting the vest on her. "But you already have a roommate!" 'Eyebrows' said. Joan frowned over Gloria's shoulders, "I'm the president, and my room is the largest. We can make room." "There she goes again," 'Stringy' said. "Just because her family has endowed the college, she thinks she- " The strange girl in her vest, now, Joan said, "Did you say something, Hester?" "No. Just a little pique, Joan," 'Eyebrows' said, crossing her arms under her B cup bust. "Okay. She'll come with us. Won't you?" "Uh... Let me see, do I have a choice?" "You have no choice!" Joan smiled, taking her by the arm, and leading her towards the back door and the alley. +++ "Haven't I seen you at college?" Joan said, getting in the driver's seat after buckling the other girl into the shotgun seat. A woman's hands besides Lilly's was over his-her lap, "Er, well... I don't know what to-" "My double!" "Where'd that voice come from!?!" Hester asked from the back, opening her window wide. "Yeah! I heard it, too!" 'Eyebrows' agreed, opening hers, too. Gloria was glad the girl left his-her lap. "Er, uh-" The voice said, "I studied ventriloquism!" "But you sound like a guy!" Hester said. "A very old guy." "A nasty old guy." "I think it's very original!" Joan said, starting the car. "At least she could sound like a girl." "Oh? And name any female ventriloquist besides Shari Lewis." Joan pulled out. "There's got to be some!" 'Eyebrows' said. "Ed Sullivan has acts like that on all the time." "My point exactly, a girl sounding like a guy is original." "I think it's the black cat's meow," Hester said under her breath, her arms back up under her bust. "What did you say, Hester!??!" 'Eyebrows' asked. "I didn't say that, Ivana!" Hester said, her hands clutching the edge of her seat. "I heard you say it; you said, 'eye of newt, and tongue of frog'!" Ivana slapped her hands over her mouth. "Stop doing that!!" Hester yelled. Joan laughed, "Well, it proves that she is a ventriloquist! What is your name? We can't go around calling you 'the Ventriloquist'." "Mary," her male voice said. "Mary, then." "Mary?" her female voice asked. Her male voice answered, with a sweetness of an old man lost in some memory, "It means 'a bitterness so great, it cries a salty sea of tears'. Ahh..." "Oh, I get it; ' sort of like the opposite of 'glory'!" the girl was having a conversation with herself!! "And do you have a 'bitterness so great'?" Joan asked. "Heck, no! I'm a sweet, lovable person, of honorable intent, who isn't even upset that they're made from leftovers." "'Leftovers'??" the idea prompted Ivana to lower her hands. "She's just playing games on you guys!" Joan laughed, again. "She is an original!" Hester muttered, "The original 'Boris Karloff'." "She has ears like a bat!" Ivana said. "Thank you!" her male voice said. Thereafter, the two remained quiet for the rest of the drive to campus. +++ There was a parking lot across the street from the house that looked very much like the Munster's, but of course, not as carefully run-down and decrepit. "I'm glad to get out of a confined space with her," Ivana said to herself, or maybe Hester. "What are those letters over the porch?" Mary asked, the last to get out of the car. (The cement and grit felt nice on his-her bare feet.) "They're our sorority letters," Hester said, again wondering about her. "She's just kidding, again," Joan said. "They're Greek," the president moved up beside Mary. "Oh, "Greek"! Well, I'm afraid Greek is all-" The male voice stopped her, "Don't say it! It's too corny, even for you! The letters are "Sigma Iota Sigma"!" "Or, more colloquial known as, 'The Boob-'" "Don't say it, Ivana!" Joan ordered her, as she began to 'escort' Mary out of the parking lot. "To quote somebody we know, 'Don't say it!'." "Is it corny?" Mary asked. "When it's written in small letters: It's filthy!" her maleness laughed. "And the "Iota" stands for the fraternities," Joan said. "It does not," Hester said. "It might as well," the mannish girl said, pulling Mary with her across the street. +++ "What is that smell!?" "What died?!" "Kimberly, did you forget to take the garbage out!!" "I thought I was through with that odor when my internship at the morgue was over!" And similar comments could be heard when Mary came inside. "Joan, I know you like to drag home some strange things, but this!!" a girl with very thin nose said. "This is Mary!" Joan said, apparently gone suddenly deaf. "Mary..." She now turned her attention back to Mary. "Mun-" "-Munday! Mary Munday!" "What in the world!?" "I've heard of girls with deep voices, but..." "It's not deep enough." "Right. Then it could, at least, be sexy." "Right now, it's just revolting." "Oh, I don't know, I'm getting a charge out of it," a girl with round cheeks said, coming up to the people who came in. "Sally, this is Mary, Mary Monday," Joan said. The golden blonde with the Elvis hair was barefoot in a low d?colletage, high hemline lime double-knit. "'Munday', with a 'u'," the male voice corrected. "'With a you', hunh? I'm not Italian, but I wouldn't mind being 'with you'," Sally said, giving a "how" sign. "I knew Sally was "that" kind." "She's Joan's roommate; what did you expect?" "What is that girl wearing, a musk that attracts "girls" like that?" And similar comments were murmured among the others. "I think you're all being mean!" said a girl whose brown hair set into a helmet and was nearly small enough to be thought of as a midget. "You're being unfair! Joan's a good president; and Sally is a good friend: To all of you!" She wore a gingham shirt and denim cutoffs with sandals. "Another one heard from." "I didn't think "Miss Cutey Chrissy" was like that!" "Are you kidding? With her 'little' problem?" "What little problem? -Don't look at me like that! Some of us our just too busy trying to keep up in their studies to be quick on the uptake!" "I wonder how many other girls are going to reveal themselves?" "Come, Mary!" Joan commanded, physically yanking her towards the stairs. "You can bathe while I get you a change of clothes!" "Bathe!?" Mary yelped, as Sally and Chrissy, and, finally, a forth girl, with a coifed dark hair and peach glace and petticoats, followed in a parade up the stairs. +++ Gloria was now in the upstairs bathroom, and without the vest (Joan promising to get "her" something more "comfortable"): "Grandpa! I, I can't bathe Gloria's body!" "Herman, I told you; it's not Gloria's body, it's just an exact- in fact, super-exact, duplicate." "That's supposed to make it... 'Super-exact'?" "Turn the tap, and I'll tell you." "And I told you I wasn't going to take a bath." And he-she started jumping up and down, knees raising and falling, "You can't make me! You can't make-" Suddenly Mary stopped, and wrapped both arms around Grandpa, one top, the other bottom. "A temper tantrum's not the same when you've got hooters, is it, you big boob! Start the water, and I'll explain how you're not going to have to take a bath!" "You promise?" "As I'm dead and buried, a hundred times over." "Well... okay." Leaving one arm wrapped around the firm but tender breasts, Mary bent over the tub. "This is going to be our cauldron: So plenty of steam! No cold water." "I'm not going to get in a tub full of hot water!!" "I said it's going to be a cauldron! I know women's ears are smaller, but you could try using them! I'm going to have you dump whatever you can find in that cupboard into it." Mary moved quickly over to said cupboard. "It's full of shampoos, and bath oils, and powders, and hair dyes, and-" "Herman! I know what women have in her bathroom! Bring only the liquids and powders!" Mary started collecting the bottles to her ("Ow! Be careful with the straw!") ample bosom. "How can you possible brew up a potion with this stuff?!" "I'm not brewing up a potion. I'm making something to transfigure." "Trans-what??" Mary asked, dropping the bottles into the tub. "I'm sorry, I keep forgetting I'm dealing with a moron! I'm turning this concoction into the closest approximation I can make of it of my "Home Sweet Home" pleasant-memories-evoking toilet water." "Do I have to-" "Herman!! Just get the rest of the bottles!" "Right, Grandpa!" he-she hurried to do just that. "Now, using the principal that 'like attracts like'-" "Grandpa! You said that 'like repels like'!" Mary said, throwing the bottles into the tub. "That's right. 'Opposites attract'. That is science." "But you just said-" "Magic is the "opposite" of science, Herman." "Oh... 'opposite repels opposite'. That, that's why magic and sci-." Mary had another 'thought'. "Grandpa, then that means science should be compatible with magic; and not the other way around!" "Herman, this is magic!! It doesn't have to be logical! Now, finish pouring the goop out while there's still steam enough!" And Mary knelt in the tweed skirt beside the tub, and started emptying the contents, and tossing the empties over his-her shoulder. Never had he-she felt the difference this much before, with his-her bra-encased breasts down and out, and his-her other end up and out, with the narrow waist between. +++ Mary stood looking down into the mess. "Who's going to clean it up?" "We are! Can you imagine the disaster, if the other girls bathed in what I'm going to turn it into?! Why, there wouldn't be a man safe down wind of them!" "What, what about the girls?" "Listen, Herman, if you were a college-age girl, would you want to be treated like a boy's mother?" "I don't know. A boy would treat me with kindness, and consideration, and always do as he was told, and-" "Boy, are you stuck in sitcom-land." "Grandpa! How is Gloria suppose to catch a husband, if this stuff works the way you said it does?!" "I told you before, Herman: Gloria has the animal magnetism of a movie goddess! She's a blonde H-bomb! My "Home Sweet Home" formula is needed to keep men and women from tearing her clothes off of her!" "Women!! Grandpa! Surely, you can't be saying..." "I am, Herman. But not the way a boob like you would think. Women would hate her!" "Women hate Gloria!? Nobody can hate Gloria! She's the sweetest, gentlest, most thoughtful and cheerful (despite her looks)-" "Women would despise, loath, and detest her: Just look at how the women reacted to you, when you came into the house!" "They do?" Mary's feelings were obviously hurt. "Why do they hate me, Grandpa?! It's not like I did anything mean to them. I mean, I just got here; I couldn't have-" "Herman, it's not you. It's the animal magnetism. What attracts a man, repels a woman. Do you understand?" "I, I think so," Mary said, trying to use that to help her bruised feelings. "Now, is this science or magic?" "Animal magnetism is pseudo-science. Remember the transformers? - Stand back, I'm starting the transfiguration!!" Mary did try to stand back, and in so doing, thrust out his-her proud prow. Animal electricity ripped out of his-her blouse, enlarging the two holes in it. The bolt struck the muck, and made it roil, broil, and boil, until it the grayish brown blend glowed just before it changed into a puke green color. "Herman? You're going to have to get another straw. This one melted." 3) Changing A girl with nearly large hands was pounding on the door, "Open up!! You're not the only one that has to use the bathroom!!" "Are you kidding, Melanie? That girl needs to be soaked in disinfectants, then sent to a car wash!" Kimberly said, leaning against the wall across the hall. "Use the one down stairs. Or in the basement," a girl with thick thighs said coming upstairs in a short bathrobe and a towel wrapped around her head. "But you'd better hurry, before the others also get the idea that they'd rather go somewhere else for a while." "Oh-whrrr!" Melanie cried, before dashing down the stairs. "So what does our 'resident gossip' have to say?" 'Thighs' asked. "I haven't heard a thing-Not a thing! It's too quiet in there!" "A quiet sister? Well, we could use more of those." Then 'Thighs' laughed, "It will give the rest of us more time to talk!" "I mean, like in total silence! You expect to hear a girl do something in a bathroom!" "Oo, maybe you and Joan have more in common than you want to admit," 'Thighs' teased. "What!!?" Kimberly was about to blast her, when she saw some girls coming out of their room; and another could be heard coming up the stairs. So, Kimberly threw back her shoulders in pride, and walked away. 'Thighs' smiled smugly. The door opened; just as the girl got up to the top of the stairs. Mary peeked out from a door that was only ajar; the clothed girl was holding a towel up in front of her. "Uh, uh could you get me a robe, please?" "I think those things on the hall table are yours," 'Thighs' said. "Here! I'll give them to you!" said the girl with a very large bust said, accented by a very small waist. "Er, thank you," Mary said in anticipation of the good deed, but not the clothes. It was a neat pile of a dark pink skirt, sheer pale pink blouse, and red, shiny woman's underthings. +++ Mary (without the ruined pantyhose) found herself with a pile of women's clothes in her hands. He-she looked at the open doorknob, was about to set the pile down, but decided clothes did not belong on the floor. "That wouldn't be neat, and tidy. Lilly trained me better than that," he remembered all of the times she used a rolled up newspaper over his nose on him. He-she straightened up, looked at the doorknob again, then saw the closed toilet lid. He-she went over there. "What are you doing, Herman?" "I have to close the door." "Just use your foot, you dummy!" "My foot?" Mary said, lifting her small, slim foot and looking at between the clean clothes out in her hands and the soiled clothes he-she had on with the dirty, old bra poking out of the two freshly burned holes. "Every time I do that I break the door." "That's when you're half-a-ton Herman! You're 111 pound Mary, now! She's lucky if she can kick her way out of a paper bag." "I tried that once!" he-she volunteered. "It's not that easy. I was wrapped up, all ready for shipping, and-" "Just shut the door!! Anyone and the sisterhood can hear you until you do!" Startled, Mary had dropped the pile on the lid, and turned. She closed the door with a hand. "I didn't want to lose my balance and fall." "Women are bottom heavy. And if you fall, you're padded." "I am, aren't I," Mary said, running her hands on where the tweed skirt was most out and up. "Well, change." "I am changed." His-her hands moved further down the tweed skirt. "I mean, get dressed." "I am in a dress." He-she'd pulled at the skirt. "You can't go around in that one: It's ruined!" He-she looked down again at the exposed tips of the bullet bra, "I just need to borrow something to cover you." "Herman, you can cover me up with those clothes." "No, I can't," he-she said, looking away. "It's okay: You're Mary, now. Mary can wear women's clothes." "If I can't wear a robe, can I at least wear a shroud? If, if I have to dress like a woman, I should at least wear something that doesn't make me look strange. I mean, after all, Lilly wears a shroud. It doesn't make her look weird, or anything. "Those things do look weird. Something even Gloria wouldn't be caught dead in." "Enough, already!!" And a crackling line of e-m force came out of the right cup. SQUOOSH! The water from the sink tap leaped out to soak Gloria's form. Mary half-turned away (soaking his-herself even more) and sputtered, "Why are you doing this!? You said I didn't have to take a bath!!" as she tried to fend the spray away by slapping it with one hand after another. "I've kept my promise. But the girls will notice what you're wearing. (Especially this Joan.) They expect you to look like you had a bath." The tap water turned itself off. "Your clothes were ruined, anyway. Do us all a favor, and wear the clothes." "I want a shroud!" Mary said, his-her slender hands slapping just air, now. "There isn't any shroud: Just those clothes!" "But they're women's clothes," small Mary said, realizing there wasn't a reason any longer to physically fight back. She lowered his-her arms. "You're wearing women's clothes now. Soaked, scorched, and mucked up as they are." "But they're Gloria's clothes. They came with the change." And his-her voice became confessional, "If, if I take them off, it'll be like, like there really is a body... underneath. Naked, even." He-she then sounded like he-she would possibly die of embarrassment, "It's bad enough when I, as handsome, debonair Herman Munster, have to look at myself without any-" "Herman!! Enough, already! You're worried about modesty!? Look in the mirror." Mary did. "Oh, golly! Have I been out in public like that?? No wonder people have been staring at me." "Yes, Herman," the bra said, gathering what patience it could find, "that's why people were staring at you. What would Gloria say, if she finds out what her double was seen wearing?" "You, you're right, Grandpa. I better change into something more presentable. Only... Can I wear pants?" "Herman, do you remember seeing Gloria wear pants?" "No. Bu... but I don't remember her wearing anything like that, either!" he-she protested, looking at the outfit on the toilet seat as if it were a rattler. He-she wasn't sure, but he-she thought that the skirt looked short, too; and the blouse seemed on the flimsy side. They were both very pink. But the shiny ladies' underthings were red. "Do you want to look a gift horse in the mouth?" "Gee, golly, no! That would be rude. Impolite, even." "Well, you're a guest in this house, and our hostess has given you, as a woman in distress, something to help you." "She has?" Mary was forced to look at the clothes in a new light. "Once you've accepted her offer, then you can ask about something more... substantial." But in a lowered voice, it said, "(Lots of luck getting it from her, though.)" "Well, okay, then," Mary relented. She unbuckled the belt, and found the buttons to the skirt itself. "But... but I'm leaving on the what nobody has to see! I'm not going to wear some strange woman's underwear!" "If you say so, Herman," Grandpa humored him. "Hmm, will you look at that, a house full of people, and no one thinks to replace the toilet paper." "What?" Mary said distractedly, trying not to look at the bare, shaven legs revealed when he-she let go of the tweed skit. "Are your feet on the rug around the toilet? Yes, they are. Back up, Herman." "Why?" Mary asked, even as he-she did it. "Because wet clothes and metal TP holders conduct electricity." Zapf!! And enough of the clothes he-she had on were dry. +++ After running around and around the bathroom, Mary snatched up the towel and blanketed the fire, protesting, "Now, I'm not going to wear any girls' underthings!" "If you mean the panties, I'm going to tell you something that even nudists know, Herman: People leak." "They do n- They do?" Mary said suspiciously, thinking. "Well, I know I, as well-aged Herman Munster, have to be drained every once in a while." "Herman! I'm not talking about those kinds of liquids! I'm talking about the kind living people have!" "Oh! Living people. Like Gloria," then Mary thought of something else. "What kind of liquids do living people leak?" "Well..." Grandpa thought about explaining the facts of living to the idiot. "With any luck, you won't be 'leaking' one or two this week." "I won't?" Mary smiled, believing she did understood. "If you don't get sick from being around the living, you probably won't be doing numbers five, or six." "Okay..." Mary began keeping track of the numbers with her fingers. "If can control my appetite, there won't be any number seven... leaking, anyway." "Right," Mary said, trying to keep track of them all. "Number eight, depends on what time of month it is..." "It does?" "But as for nine, I'm afraid, that you will leak, exude, in fact- especially, if you're leaking number three!" "Number three?? And what happened to number four?!" "Don't go trading four, and you might not have to worry about three and nine!" "Okay, I won't," Mary promised. "Herman?" "Yes, Grandpa?" "Put those panties on!!" +++ "Look it, one side's different from the other," Mary said, holding the red shiny thing with one hand while the other still clutched the towel over his-her lower tummy. "The lace goes in front. Lace always goes in front." "Li... like you, Grandpa." "Only when I'm female. How would it look for the Lord of the Darkness to be seen in lace?" "Well, I don't know... Didn't royalty, and those that went to parties with them wear lace?" "That was back when men also wore wigs, makeup and high heels! Then the industrial revolution came, and ruined everything for us. Now I can't even be caught dead in any of those things." (Sigh) "Too, bad... I used to make a dandy fop. Beau Brummel used to come to me for fashion advice. It certainly made things easier for a vampire. I could trade fashion tips with a woman, and while she was distracted..." While it'd been talking, Mary had lifted his-her smooth legs, and stepped into the satin panties, lifted her eyes, dropped the towel, and drawn them up. Straightening up fully, he-she said, "They make me feel... funny!" "Funny? As in what way, Herman?" "I, I want to... wiggle my, around-my-back-and-down." "It's called your butt, Herman! You can't even say that word!?!" "No! I don't want to use off-color language in mixed company." "Herman, you're no longer 'mixed'! Ass, buns, derriere-" "Grandpa! If you had a mouth, I'd wash it out with soap!" "Listen, Herman, if you hear what a girl calls it, that'll make it alright, won't it?" "Well... if a girl says it," Mary conceded. "Then I'll get one to say it, and you will say it whenever you have to say it. Deal?!" "Well..." "Good! Now, you say the satin panties make you want to move your fill-in-the-blank? It's okay to do it, now: You're a girl!! That's what girls do!" "They do, don't they," Mary said, trying to remember those times he'd peeked without knowing he was at the time. And he-she started to try it out. "Ohoh! Hips!" "Suspension!" the bra laughed. "But they make me feel almost, knock kneed. My knees don't go down straight." "Compensation!" "N, n, no, Grandpa! This 'suspension' make each of my, my --fill- in-the-blanks expand: And they're big enough already!" "Oh, brother! A woman for a little over an hour, and already you're talking about having one that's too big. Herman, it's just the comparatively smaller thorax! Gloria's got a fine one! I should know!" "Grandpa! You haven't!?!" "There you go again. No!! It's not what you think. And when it's time to talk about it, we'll go over again just how Gloria became a Munster." "Hmm, let me try and remember-" "Herman! This is not the time! Don't wiggle, then! But it's going to be awfully hard not to in satin panties. That Joan really has it bad for you." "She seems like a good girl!" "We'll go into that, too-After you finish getting dressed!" +++ "I don't like wearing skirts. They're drafty!" Mary was in a dark pink linen wrap around skirt that had to be buttoned at the waist and, with two more buttons, just over one thigh, near the crotch; it left a flap. "Think of it as shorts." "I haven't worn those, either!" "Yes, you have. What about the lederhosen?" "That was in my younger days, over a century ago!" "Well, you're young, again. And just wait until you get used to walking around with the air caressing your bare, shaven legs! (He, hah, ha, ha!) It's like being amid a pack of rime hounds in heat!" "But, but it doesn't seem to want to stay down around my legs, Grandpa. It wants to, 'stick their muzzles' where they shouldn't!" "I know; a 'warm breath from a cold nose', especially with a knee-length skirt. And in satin panties... I just know you're going to leak." "Leak?" "Number three." +++ "How do I look, Grandpa?" Mary said, looking at him-herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. She now had on a pale pink blouse with glittered embroidery that seemed to leave all but the bust area see-through. The blouse was still not meant to be worn with a bra, at least a white one; the back was transparent, too. Even so, one end of a bent and shrunken TP tube was peeking out past the second button. "What do you care how you look? Just so long as you're decent enough. 'Decent' being defined by the girls." "I know... But I do look like Gloria. What would she think, when I don't present the wholesome, All-American girl image?" "Ngh! If it were anybody but you, Herman, I'd think you were going 'soft' on me. --Aha!! I knew it!" "What!??!" Mary cried, turning back around, and staring at the mirror. "I knew it! You were checking out your ass!" "I was just seeing if was like you said, Grandpa! You know, normal. For a girl, that is." "(Hrn!) I'll bet! You've been watching girls, somewhere, Herman! You criticize me for becoming girls: Just you wait, you'll become more of a girl than I ever was!" "No, I won't!! I'm too level headed, and unyielding! (You know I have a touch of rigor mortis.)" "That was Herman Munster. You are 'Mary Munday', 'Perfect Copy'!" "'Perfect'?" a smile quirked over his-her face as he-she looked in the mirror, more in profile this time. "Yes: Learning from the Doctor's experiments, I set out to make sure I didn't make the same mistakes." "'Mistakes'? Gran, Grandpa! Are you insinuating that, that..." "I'm insinuating nothing: I'm saying it! This model is Gloria without any of the flaws that all natural things have. (Especially in the state they were in when you were put together.) Mary is made out of plastic!" "Plastic!!?!" "Not the simple, primitive plastics of current science! 'Plastic' as in organic molecules! Molecules that are better than any DNA can come up with." "But, does that mean that real girls don't feel like this?" Mary said, not sure if she was Pinocchia. "Oh, real girls would wish to feel like you! You're them, only better!!" "Really? Neato!" Mary smiled. "And, Herman, if the girls find out... Boy! What's going to happen to you in this sorority will seem like a day in Disneyland." "Keep it a secret?" "A very big secret. Like 'Your afterlife depends on it' secret." "Okay... Uh, oh. This model doesn't have a place to put things in her head where they'll be out of the way." "That's because she's 'Better than life', not 'As good as dead'." "Grandpa?" "What now?" "When I was looking around to put the secret, to keep it out of my thoughts, I came across another thought: Before, you thought me and Gloria had changed bodies." "But, now that I know you didn't, now I know what you are. The perfect reproduction." "Oh, okay!" "Boy..." Grandpa muttered, "I wish "Mary" were a dumb blonde." +++ The bathroom door opened; Mary peeked out. There was nobody out in the hall. She opened the door further, until it was just wide enough to get by; his-her bust just grazed it. But the wastebasket the towel over it he-she carried by its rim bumped it; he-she had to place it on his-her flaring hips. He-she, then, headed for the stairs, trying not to wiggle as she felt the rime hounds. And, thanks to the see-through blouse, it wasn't just her legs that wanted to intrude on his-her conscious. At opposite side of the landing around the stairs, a girl came out of what would have been Gloria's room, if this had been the Munster house. She was just passing the door to one of the guest rooms, when it opened. The two girls ran for the bathroom. Mary pressed herself against the wall across from it, keeping the basket safely out of the way on her hip. The third girl, from the room behind pushed Mary aside and, being the closest door, beat them to it. "What is that smell!?" "Boy, I wouldn't want to visit her home on a school break," the bra said. "The extra scent is just the ozone you get when you incinerate things." The two other girls went from looking at the door closed in their faces, to the stranger with the strange man's voice. "I'm a ventriloquist," Mary volunteered. (Showbiz people would wear clothes like this, he-she thought to ease his-her uneasiness.) The two girls drew closer to one another, giving the other a look that told each other what they were thinking. The wide stairway was just a few feet away. "Don't just stand there," the strange girl's chest told her. The girls turned around