Changes Unperceived free porn video

This is the story I was working on just before I began the Parallelalities set. It bogged down and I didn't know where to go with it. There are spots that will probably seem very similar to Parallelalities - I guess that should be expected - but this story was written in first person as opposed to third person. The standard disclaimers apply to this work. It is a work of fiction copyrighted by the author. Permission is granted to repost these stories on free sites, provided no textual changes are made. Bill Changes Unperceived By Bill Hart My drives into work in the morning - a trip of at least an hour and sometimes over two when the traffic was really bad - gave me plenty of time to think. I could think about what I needed to do at work, if I wanted. Or, more likely, I could think of a myriad of other things to pass away the time. And yet, after all the years that had passed since I'd last seen her, I would have never in a billion years dreamed of thinking about her again. Nor could I have ever imagined I might actually see her while making that long and often boring drive into work. But, despite whatever its odds, yesterday morning I really did see her. I know this will all sound very weird, perhaps even unbelievable. It was the first time I'd seen her since that final day of our junior year of high school. And that was better than thirty-five years ago. And as a result of merely seeing her again yesterday morning, all I seemed able to do, while sitting in my small cubicle, was think about her. I'd first met Kathleen O'Mulligan - a fine old Irish name that, had she not passed away the previous summer, my feisty dear old Irish grandmother would have adored from the first moment she heard it - on our very first day in the elective drama class I took my freshman year. For some unknown reason, the two of us hit it off. And in retrospect, our becoming friends now seems somewhat unusual because, as I recall, I was very likely the only real friend she had in that class. Katy - that was what I'd always called her - was a real beauty. She had finely chiseled and nearly flawless Irish features. But unlike most of the other Irish girls I'd met up until that time, her eyes were dark and penetrating, while her shoulder-length hair was as black as the blackest night. Every girl in that class considered Kathleen as nothing more than "that bitch," which I always thought was extremely unfair of them. Certainly Katy could be a moody and mysterious girl at times. And she always wanted her own way. But who among them didn't? At the time, I had always considered Katy the best actress in our class. Not that my opinion mattered for much, but it was a sentiment I obviously shared with our drama teacher Mr. Norman, since the raven-haired beauty was always landing lead role after lead role. Therefore, at least to my young mind's discerning -and somewhat prejudiced, I now realized - eye, the cause of the girls' petty and constant name-calling was all too obvious. All the other girls in our class were simply jealous of Katy's beauty and talent. And yet, as I sat and thought about her now, I could envision another, more simple, reason for the dislike all the girls showed her. It might have been partially our fault. Every boy in that class, myself included, had always fantasized about what we would have enjoyed doing with Katy. Maybe the other girls had somehow discovered what we were constantly thinking about. Like every other guy in class, I'd also dreamed of some day landing one of those leading roles opposite her. But unlike the very talented Katy, I could never, not even on one of better days, be accused of being very much of actor. Just thinking about being on stage made me nervous. Consequently, the only roles I ever managed to get were those minuscule one or two line mercy parts that could have been just as easily rolled up into someone else's tiny part. I doubt I even managed to be on the stage at the same time as Katy. So I suppose it must have been a stunning surprise to just about everyone at the school when Kathleen O'Mulligan and I went out on a date and we started seeing each other regularly. She had her crowd of friends; I had mine. And those two totally disjoint groups of people mixed together worse than oil and water. In the entire student body, I doubt there was anyone either of us would or could have classified as "our" friend. But our dating each other didn't last very long. Katy always seemed to be flitting from one boy to the next. All those cynical people, who had been so surprised when we'd started dating, were in no way surprised or the slightest upset when we broke up a mere two weeks later. Unlike many of the miserable breakups I've so patiently endured since then, this one hadn't been messy. In fact, it had been such a quiet and uneventful breakup that no one seemed to notice exactly when it had actually happened. But it had still been fairly odd. Our breaking up had just seemed to happen spontaneously. It was a couple of weeks before the junior prom as I remember. Katy and Barry Miller, who was the male lead in the current school play, had shown up arm-in-arm together at a party to which Katy and I had been invited. There were a lot of really strange things about our breakup now that I think about it. I knew I should have been really angry with both of them about what had happened, but I wasn't even a little upset. I'll probably never know why I reacted so calmly back then; I knew I should have exploded in a terrible fit of jealous rage. And almost as oddly, I wondered why this little stroll of mine down memory lane still failed to anger me as I knew it should. But as I think back on that, I think it strange that every guy who had ever dated Katy, with the exception of Barry Miller, of course, seemed incapable of becoming angry with Katy no matter what she might have done. And I was certainly no exception to that rule. I also knew I should have left that party immediately once I'd arrived and discovered Katy dancing so closely with Barry. But even though I knew better, I didn't leave; I stayed. In fact, as odd as it might sound now, I'd had the strangest impression that night of some indefinable something in the air making it seem the two of them being there as a couple was nothing out of the ordinary. Whatever had caused that strange impression must have been the reason that they just seemed right being there together. And nearly as peculiar, not a single soul from her crowd or mine had a word to say to me about Katy being with Barry that night. Everyone there had treated them as if they'd been a couple for a long, long time. Actually, the total silence I remembered wasn't exactly true. But it might have better if it were. Of those there that night, one person I knew came over and spoke a few odd words that I may never forget. "Don't let those two being together tonight bother you very much, Billy," said Linda Sommers in an oddly consoling manner. "It won't last. Katy never stays with a boy very long. And I'm sure you'll realize the full truth about her soon enough. I know you'll be much better off if you're not running around after that conniving little witch." I'd been really surprised to see Linda at that party. For as long as I'd known her, she'd never been much of a party going girl. And, even to those few parties to which she was occasionally invited, she more often than not stayed at home. I'd also wanted to ask her what she'd meant calling Katy a "witch". Linda and I were friends of a sort, although there had been a time when I'd been convinced she'd wanted more from me than a simple friendship. However, Linda was - had always been - a bright girl; it didn't take her long to figure out that the two of us would never be an item. But even now I don't think she ever accepted the fact that I very obviously had eyes only for Katy. I'd known Linda since we were kids in grade school. If not for Katy coming into my life, I suppose I would have been far more attracted to the reddish-blond haired girl, who could be really pretty when she tried, than I was. But if my lack of interest ever bothered her, I never heard anything about it. And, in all the time I'd known her, I'd never once heard her say anything negative about anyone. Even now, after all the years that had passed, I still wanted to know why she'd called Katy a "witch". Of course, I'd always figured I'd probably just misunderstood what she'd said to me that night. As I might have mentioned earlier, nearly every other girl I knew called Katy "that bitch". However, regardless of which word - witch or bitch - she might have actually used, I had never understood how Linda could have used either of them to describe anyone. She just wasn't like that. But when I turned around to ask her, Linda had disappeared. Although I'd looked everywhere for her for over an hour, she was simply nowhere to be found. And even more strangely, when I'd finally caught up with her at school the following week, she'd flatly denied being at the party, or having said anything in poor taste about Katy. I still can't explain why it happened, but Linda and I just drifted further and further apart after that strange incident. Never again were we ever as close as we'd once been; neither of us seemed to have much of anything to say to the other. And just a week after our junior year ended, Katy was also gone from my life forever... or so I'd thought before yesterday morning. The rumor that had circulated throughout the school the next year was she'd run off to Hollywood with some shady agent who'd convinced her she could be a star and make a fortune. She'd quickly dropped Barry Miller for that promise of fame and fortune even more easily than she'd left me for him. Only Barry hadn't taken his rejection by her anywhere near as calmly or rationally as I, or any of the others, had. Acting really childish - not really all that out of character for Barry - he'd ranted and raved for several weeks about the whole affair. Once Katy was in Hollywood, she'd quickly been given the starring role in her own television show - "Christi Takes Charge". If you don't remember it or, more likely, never heard of it before, don't feel bad. Only two episodes were ever aired, although I'd heard they'd actually taped twelve episodes before it was mercifully canceled. It was a horrible show - probably among the worst of the worst I'd ever seen. The only reason I'd watched it at all was to see Katy. Although for some strange reason, Katy had never seemed to come across as herself on tape. After her Hollywood fiasco, any chance of her achieving the stardom she craved apparently went up in smoke. Rumors circulating in the tabloids told of her agent, seeking greener pastures, abandoning her shortly afterwards. And then, Katy O'Mulligan had simply vanished among all those other pretty and talented teenage actresses, who had tried for stardom and failed miserably in Hollywood. I suppose she must have been too ashamed to return to school an abject failure for our senior year. But I still missed her. I even felt sorry for her for a while, although I doubt anyone else gave a rat's ass about poor Katy. A very spiteful Barry Miller was overjoyed by Katy's failure in Hollywood and, at the same time, thoroughly pissed with her for not running back to him. That was just the kind of asshole Barry Miller had always been. It took a while. But after a few years had passed, I'd pretty much relegated thoughts of Katy to those mostly forgotten and unvisited corners of my mind. That had all happened better than thirty-five years ago. A hell of a lot of muddied turbulent waters had flowed under the bridge spanning my life since then. A couple of really messy divorces had been the worst. Both times I'd been taken to the cleaners in court. Although I obviously hadn't, I knew I should have learned something that first time. In a way, I guess I'd earned all this gray hair on my head and in my beard, although, in all honesty, there was no longer that much hair of any color left atop my head. And in all those intervening years I'd never given Katy a second thought... nor even a first one, for that matter. That is, until yesterday morning, when I thought I saw her while I was driving into work. I couldn't believe my eyes when I first saw her. Other than being a little older, the attractive young girl sitting in the car next to me had appeared almost exactly the way I remembered Katy from that last time I'd seen her. And equally eerily, her apparent sudden reappearance in my life had also caused the resurfacing in my mind of scores of feelings and emotions I'd thought I'd long ago discarded and forgotten. But Katy never saw me; she never even turned her head to look over in my direction. Yet, as I continued staring at her, she appeared to have oddly aged only a few years, instead of those same thirty-five plus years I had. All that did was make me start wondering if this girl might not really be Katy after all. On the other hand, she looked so much like Katy that she had to be her. Who else could she be? I imagine it was possible Katy had had a daughter who had grown up in her mother's beautiful image. It was nothing more than a grasp at straws, but I knew that might explain everything. And if she were Katy's daughter, then she would have to know where her mother was. Suddenly, I'd felt this strong compelling need to find Katy again. I needed her to tell me what had happened to her in all the years since I'd last seen her. And I somehow knew in order to accomplish what I wanted that I needed to speak with the girl in that car. However, as I tried following the girl, I quickly lost her in the heavy morning rush of freeway traffic, which I cursed more than I normally did. And for that entire day at work I'd been something less than completely useless. Instead of doing the job I'd been paid to do, I kept playing out scenarios in my mind or scribbling them on paper in the thinnest of hopes that one of them might allow me to see Katy once more. Quite obviously, I'd been very wrong in my assumptions of being over Katy for the past several years. I wasn't anywhere near being over her; I really needed to see her again. By the end of the workday, I was surprised I hadn't been fired, not that I would have really cared. And I had also cleverly worked out my plan of attack for finding Katy; I knew exactly what I must to do. Tomorrow morning - now today - I'd just repeat everything I'd done this morning - now yesterday - exactly the same way. I knew it wasn't really that clever of a plan. In fact, it was really nothing more than a crapshoot - the stuff that made for horribly bad fiction. But, even though I knew the odds of my success were very slim at best, what else could I do if I had any hope of ever seeing Katy again? Even though I knew I was being foolish, I knew that wouldn't stop me from attempting to repeat everything this morning exactly as I'd done them yesterday. Perhaps Katy could once more bring some of her special excitement into my otherwise drab life. It was only then that I realized I still had it really bad for Katy. And unfortunately, given the high unlikelihood of seeing her again, I didn't care about anything else, even though I knew I should. *** I'd had a very restless and mostly sleepless night. I'd tossed and turned all night. Anticipation always had that effect on me. Needing to leave the house at precisely the same time I had left yesterday, I closely watched the clock. For some reason, it was a lot easier than I'd thought it would be. However, my otherwise foolish attempt to exactly repeat the events of yesterday began somewhat on the eerie side. At the stop sign at the end of my street, I'd had to wait while an ambulance, its siren screaming, made its way to the nearby old folks' home again. I could almost imagine it being the same ambulance I'd watched going by on its way to the same destination yesterday morning. At the commuter train crossing, I'd also been stopped again. Although yesterday's delay had been for a late running train, this delay had apparently been caused by some switching equipment malfunction. When the gate finally went up, I looked at my watch; I was still right on time. On the morning traffic report, I listened to the strangely familiar details of a freeway accident three ramps before the one where I always entered the freeway. It had occurred exactly where an almost identical accident had fouled up the traffic yesterday. And while I waited for the metered traffic control light on the onramp to turn green, I was not entirely surprised to once again be behind the same woman. Just as I had yesterday morning, I'd tooted my horn when the light changed for her. She'd been too busy applying her makeup to notice the light had changed. And as she drove off, I had to chuckle. Just as she'd done yesterday, she'd casually flipped me off All of this made me begin thinking that my course of action might not be quite so silly after all. Perhaps it was simply my destiny to see to Katy again. Wasn't I entitled to a little happiness for once? As I reached the appointed spot, I was convinced fate was finally on my side. When I turned and looked over into the car next to me, I saw her sitting there again. Against all the improbable odds I'd been successful in my quest. Only then did I finally attempt breaking my pattern of exactly repeating yesterday's actions. I couldn't bear to lose her again. After a small tap on my horn, she turned and looked in my direction. And then, she smiled at me... with that same smile she'd always smiled so many years ago. I suddenly knew this girl must really be Katy. Even though I knew deep down that this girl was at least three decades too young and couldn't possibly be the Katy I'd known, my conscious mind no longer had any doubts. Although her apparent continued youthful appearance made it highly improbable, I just knew in my heart this girl must be the very same Katy I'd known in high school. She motioned me to follow her. Inasmuch as that had been my sole overriding intention from that moment I'd first seen her again yesterday morning, I more than gladly followed her. But then, I would have followed Katy to the ends of the earth if I had to do so. I was taken aback when Katy exited the freeway several exits earlier than she had yesterday when I'd lost her in the traffic. Apparently that eerie repeating pattern of yesterday's events had now been thoroughly and completely broken. And with me finally being with Katy again, I was hopeful that everything would keep getting better and better. I felt even more surprised, not to mention somewhat confused, when Katy abruptly pulled into the driveway of the first motel we came to and subsequently parked in front of one of its ground-level rooms. As she got out of her car, she motioned for me to park next to her. After pulling into the indicated spot, I opened my door and slowly got out of my truck. Katy, still looking several years younger than she could actually be, was suddenly standing beside me with one of the biggest and prettiest smiles I'd ever seen in my life. "It's been far too long since we last saw each other, Billy Lockland," she cooed sensuously. Although I found her sensuous youthful voice accompanying her equally youthful appearance quite stimulating, I was surprised that she'd called me Billy. She had never called me Billy before. Other than my parents' old neighbor lady, who had known me since I was a baby and had never called me anything but Billy, I couldn't recall anyone else calling me Billy in the last several years. Before I could say anything to her, Katy planted a wet juicy one squarely on my lips. If I'd had any lingering doubts about her identity based solely on her impossibly retained youth, they quickly evaporated in the heady steam of her exhilarating kiss. I didn't know how or why she'd managed to stay so young, but at that moment, I didn't really give a shit. All that was really important just then was she - very definitely the Katy I'd once known - and I were once again together, as I always known we'd been meant to be. When she pulled back from me, she smiled seductively. "I've really missed you, you know. Why don't you come inside my room for a little while, Billy? We have a lot to talk about, you know. And I have a great many things I'd like to show you." I simply nodded my acceptance of her offer. After her passionate kiss had fully rekindled my desires for her after so many years, the simple nod was almost more than I could manage. At that moment, all I could do - all I wanted to do - was watch her every sensual move. And while Katy unlocked the door of her room, I found myself thinking, there was also a great many things I wanted her to show me. She casually took my hand and led me into the room. But I was in no way prepared for what greeted me once we were inside her room. *** As soon as I entered Katy's motel room, this really large, dark-haired dog - one I would have never imagined Katy owning - stood up on her hind legs and began licking my face as if I were some old friend. I had no idea what made me immediately assume this friendly dog was a bitch, but somehow I just knew she was a she. "Get down from our guest, girl. And then go back to your room," said Katy, as she confirmed the dog's gender. But for several minutes the dog just sat there and stared at me with those great big, but kind of sad, brown eyes of hers. And then abruptly, she quietly whined for just a little bit before dropping to all fours and wandering away to wherever her room was. "My Irish Wolfhound has always been very apprehensive whenever it comes to meeting strangers. But it certainly appears that she already likes you, Billy. Do you also like her?" There was something about Katy's dog that seemed familiar. But before I could answer her question, Katy and I were unexpectedly interrupted. "Oh shit! What is that stupid jerk doing here, Katy?" growled a young dark-haired girl probably in the neighborhood of ten years old. "I told you that you wouldn't need him around when I'm here." I stared at this presumptuous young girl with a mixture of curiosity and surprise. Although she could easily pass as a younger version of Katy, I could only wonder who she might really be. I knew for a fact this young girl couldn't possibly be Katy's sister for the simplest of reasons; Katy was an only child. And up until that moment, I'd also considered Katy as one of a kind. But she was no longer unique; there was definitely more than one of her now. Perhaps this pretty young lass was Katy's own daughter. "Don't be so silly, Becky. Of course, I need him here," replied Katy. "In truth, we both have need of his continued presence." Katy then turned back to me and asked, "Would you like some freshly squeezed ice cold lemonade, Billy?" I could only nod dumbly in response. "Go get Billy a glass of that specially-made lemonade in the refrigerator, Becky." "I don't wanna," snapped the girl angrily, as she defiantly folded her arms across her chest. "Don't argue with me about this, young lady," replied Katy in an odd sounding, somewhere between motherly and commanding, tone of voice. Without saying another word to either Katy or me, Becky turned and stormed angrily out of the room. But after only a few moments had passed, she returned holding a tall glass filled to the brim with lemonade in her hand. "Here is your lemonade, Billy. I hope it isn't too sweet for someone as sour as you," she snapped at me in a clearly indignant tone that made me wonder what I'd ever done to her. And before Katy could reprimand her for her strange actions again, Becky had scurried away. "I wouldn't worry too much about anything Becky just said. She's really a good kid, Billy. I just know she'll come around to your being here with us if we just give her a little more time, Billy," replied Katy, as she oddly seemed to be answering the obvious, but as yet unspoken, question in my mind. "She's always been a little too high-strung for her own good in new situations. I guess some of it must be my fault; Becky has always shown a bit of a possessive streak where I'm concerned. And she's also tended to behave somewhat childishly about certain things." As silly as it seemed, Katy's casual description of Becky made her sound like someone else I hadn't seen in many years. But whoever she was had oddly slipped my mind. However, once I'd taken my first sip of the lemonade Becky had brought me, any additional thoughts of Becky seeming familiar in any way no longer seemed of any great importance. "This lemonade is absolutely delicious, Katy." "I just knew you'd love it, Billy," smiled Katy. "It's a very old, and quite special, family recipe handed down from mother to daughter for far more generations than you could ever possibly imagine." After sitting down on the couch, I took another sip of the incredibly delicious nectar. If anything, this new sip tasted superior to the first one. With Katy casually sitting beside me on the couch and with me still contemplating her inexplicably retained youthful appearance, I gazed deeply into her dark eyes. "I'd be willing to wager just about anything that you have a great many more secrets like this wonderful lemonade hidden away in your past. Would you be willing to share any more of them with me?" "Oh, Billy. Sometimes you can be so silly. But you always were," Katy smiled. "I'm quite certain you'd be absolutely amazed by the wide variety of things I know." She then casually brushed her lips against my cheek. "But are you absolutely certain you wish to know them. Just to see if you really are interested, why don't I provide you a little incentive? If you'll finish up the rest of your lemonade in the next minute, then perhaps - just perhaps mind you - I'll share with you another of my old family secrets." She smiled warmly at me. "Could you do that for me, Billy?" she asked, although she obviously already knew I would do anything she asked of me. "You know, Billy. I'm really sorry now how I kept putting you off while we were dating those few short weeks. You made no secret of just how badly you'd always wanted this body of mine." She'd noticed? Had I been that obvious? But the fact that I'd always lusted after her supple body when we were in school was very likely the understatement of all understatements ever uttered. Given this new incentive plan of hers, I gulped down the remainder of my delicious lemonade without another moment of hesitation. That I never tasted the fabulous nectar as it passed over my tongue never bothered me at all. I had already begun thinking of other things. The two of us being together still seemed an impossible dream. And yet, after all these long years without seeing her, I'd found her and was about to get lucky. I still considered it amazing that Katy actually wanted me. Although she hadn't come right out and said it in so many words, she definitely had implied it. Quite soon now, Katy and I would finally be taking that long overdue - at least as far as I was concerned - exciting roll in the hay I'd dreamed of one day doing with her long before she'd run off for Hollywood. As I set the now empty glass down on the coffee table, I was surprised to see the latest issue of that cheap girlie magazine I sometimes picked up just to look at its titillating pictures. Sitting right beside it was another magazine - one glossier and obviously more expensive - with a nearly naked man on its cover. If I were correct about Becky being Katy's daughter, then I couldn't believe that the cheap girlie magazine on the table belonged to either of them. It was impossible to imagine Katy being interested in other girls. And that hot babe on its cover was definitely put together as well as any girl I'd ever seen. And yet, I couldn't explain why that girlie magazine was sitting on Katy's table. Since it obviously couldn't be theirs, I wondered to whom it might really belong. And even worse, I began wondering if he, its owner, might be returning any time soon. All of a sudden, the focus of my thoughts shifted away from that magazine and the well-endowed girl on its cover. The beginning of an odd and totally involuntary twitching in my hand had swiftly centered my full attention to it. I stared at my hand. Although I could never begin to explain how or why, I was convinced that somehow my hand looked different. Although this peculiar feeling I had made no sense, a few moments of intense concentration finally turned up something different. All of those old calluses that had built up on my hands over the years were now completely gone. My hands hadn't been this smooth since I was a small boy. And even if it didn't seem possible, I was also convinced my hand had become smaller. My fingers also seemed more slender and possibly a little longer than I remembered them being. And while I kept staring at them in awed amazement my fingernails began growing longer. Whatever was happening to me, I soon realized it wasn't confined to just my hands. Within only a few more moments, my metamorphosis began rapidly sweeping upwards. While I watched - not really wanting to believe any of the impossible things I was seeing - my muscular arms noticeably slimmed. Every strand of hair on them simply vanished without leaving any trace. What was happening seemed most peculiar. The hair that had been on my arms had not simply fallen to the floor. Nor had any of it been reabsorbed into my softening skin. Each and every strand had apparently instantaneously disintegrated along that demarcation line of changes that was continually advancing further and further up my arms. When that line of changes reached my shoulders, whatever was causing these alterations in my body suddenly turned downwards. Although I had no idea want to expect, there was surprisingly no pain involved in this weird process of being remolded into a new shape. But there was no doubt in my mind that I was swiftly and quite impossibly shrinking. Not only was I becoming shorter, but my whole frame was also becoming proportionately smaller at the same time. Within what seemed only a few short moments my XXL shirt had gone from snugly fitting my former frame to loosely hanging on my altered smaller form. I rose slowly from the couch. But no sooner had I stood up, then my pants - with the belt still securely fastened at the waist - fell to the floor. I began feeling more odd than before. I gasped when I noticed that the long familiar bulge beneath my boxer shorts had apparently gone AWOL. I hadn't even noticed when it had happened. All of a sudden, I began feeling very dizzy, almost as if I might collapse or pass out at any moment. I decided my best course of action would be returning to my seat on the couch next to Katy. My legs itched and tingled for several seconds. Even though I'd already seen what had happened to my arms, I still found it difficult to believe what I saw when I lifted one of my legs to inspect the damage. Not only were my legs now long and slender, they had also become as smooth and totally hairless as my arms. And it had all happened so quickly. With seemingly no effort at all, I kicked my still tied tennis shoes away from my shrunken feet. I didn't have the foggiest notion what size my feet were now, but, unless I found some way to reverse whatever was currently happening to me, I would never again need those size thirteen's I'd worn since my earliest high school days. Those shoes I'd been wearing were now several sizes too large for my much smaller feet. Suddenly, my scalp began itching and tingling. In light of what had happened with my legs, I wondered what those feelings might mean until masses of hair began spurting swiftly from my nearly bare scalp. In less than a heartbeat, the previously scant remainder of my thinning gray hair had cascaded in an ever thickening mass over my ears and down onto my shoulders. Although I knew all of this was nothing short of utterly impossible, I could easily tell that I now possessed a luxuriously thick, as well as quite full, shoulder-length mane of the same inky black hue as Katy's hair. Soon thereafter, I discovered another surprise. The simple touch of my smaller and softer hand on my face now found soft warm flesh that was just as smooth as any of my other flesh. The full beard I'd begun growing - I'd always hated having to shave every morning - the day following our grad night party had simply vanished without leaving any traces. This had to be impossible. None of this could really be happening to me. Or could it? For the first time, I noticed the full-length mirror standing in a corner across the room. It was so hard to miss; I wondered why I hadn't seen it before now. With a sense of increasing trepidation, I slowly rose from the couch again, then made my way just as slowly towards the mirror. Although my body felt peculiar with each new step I took toward the mirror, I had no real difficulties reaching it. When I looked at the image being reflected back at me, I was stunned by all the alterations in my appearance. At the same time, I almost wished I hadn't wasted the effort to see what I had become. Other than being right around the same height as Katy and probably a few years older than Becky, I now more closely resembled the two of them than I did my former self. Trembling slightly, I looked back across the room at the smiling Katy, intuitively knowing that she must be the one responsible for everything that had happened to me. "What have you done to me, Katy?" I asked trying to remain calm, even while my voice cracked with each syllable I spoke. "Isn't it obvious? You answered our casting call. I knew a few of you boys still lived in the area. I was also certain one of more of you surely must. But I must say, I'm so glad you were among them, Billy," she smiled. "I know you'll be perfect for the new role into which you've been cast. Even though your transformation is not as yet complete, you'll soon realize you have no need to tremble before me." "Not complete? How can it not be complete?" I mumbled, wondering what she could have meant. "But I'm already become totally different from who I was before, Katy. I still can't believe it, but I've apparently become a pre-adolescent girl just like Becky." But all of a sudden, as an incredibly peculiar wave of strangeness began sweeping over and across my body, I soon realized exactly what Katy had meant about my transformation still not being complete. Without any conscious thoughts or efforts on my part, I slowed turned back to face my reflection in the mirror. Having become emotionally detached by all the other changes, I watched as my now baggy XXL shirt began filling out in a multitude of ways I'd never in my entire life imagined possible. As soon as my altering form had finally ceased its new phase of filling out, I pulled the now oddly fitting shirt over my head and allowed it fall noiselessly to the floor. I stared at the twin, not to mention quite impressive, globes of female flesh hanging firmly and proudly from my chest. But, having been so involved in observing the fascinating expansion of my large full breasts beneath my now discarded shirt, I'd noticed neither the constricting of my waist nor the swelling of my buttocks. I couldn't believe this incredible sexy image I saw being reflected in the mirror was actually me. I looked really hot. In an impossibly few short minutes, I'd graduated from being simply a taller and little older duplicate of Becky to this awesomely impressive clone of Katy. I felt incredibly sexy. I was years younger than I'd been; I might be wrong but I thought I appeared to be in my late teens or earlier twenties. I was a fox now and I certainly knew it. And it didn't take me very long to realize that I was easily every bit as sexy as I'd always thought Katy had been. But there was at least one noticeable difference between Katy and me; I was convinced my new breasts had grown in ever so slightly larger than hers. But it still felt a little strange having a female body and being such a babe. When we'd been in high school, I'd always had these vivid daydreams of one day having the incredibly sexy Katy posing naked in front of me. But at that time I'd never ever - not even in one of my most imaginative and adventuresome dreams - considered the possibility that, once my chance to see her had finally arrived, the busty hot naked babe I'd be gazing at so longingly would be my own incredibly gorgeous reflection in a mirror. As I continued standing entranced before the mirror admiring myself, my hands were idly caressing my new large firm breasts. It was such a simple act, but just doing it made me shiver with pleasure and feel more alive than anything I had ever done to myself before. I never wanted to stop. And for a short while, I considered doing nothing else for the remainder of my life. "Wow! I don't believe it! What a really hot babe! And just take a good look at those knockers on her!" "There's no reason for you to be so crude, Becky. All you're doing is embarrassing her." With an odd smile, Katy looked me over, then slowly shook her head. "I suppose that magazine was a little too much. I should have anticipated something like this might happen. You wicked boys with your overactive imaginations are all the same after all." All of a sudden, I felt horribly self-conscious about standing nearly naked before this mirror and staring at myself lustily. And to make matters even worse, Katy and Becky were staring at me. "Just stay calm. You'll need to relax for a second or two, Bridget. I'm sure you know that you really have no need to worry about what you were doing; it's quite natural. After all, we're all girls here." "We're... All girls?" That didn't sound right to me. "And why did you call me Bridget?" I asked, not really wanting to believe the now sultry sound of my own voice. "Of course, we're all girls. Isn't it obvious? Besides, how many boys do you know with a bod as fabulous as yours? In your present form, Billy very obviously no longer suits you," replied Katy. "I think you look much more like a Bridget than a Billy now. Don't you agree? And, even though you're troubled by this now, you no longer need to worry about anything else; you'll fully adjust to all this soon enough." "I suppose its okay, not that it makes much sense. And what does some of what you've said actually mean, Katy? I don't think I want to adjust to looking like a girl, even if I am a really hot babe now." But being a girl suddenly didn't seem to matter that much. Now that Katy had explained why she'd called me by a new name, I was beginning to feel reasonably comfortable being called Bridget. "You have no real choices in this matter, Bridget; after all, you are who you are, just as you are who you've always been, as well as who you'll always be," said Katy with a widening grin. "But I want you to tell me something truthfully now - and please hold nothing back - how do you feel about Barry Miller?" "Barry Miller?" I asked with a snarl. What the hell would make Katy want to bring up the subject of that sorry asshole Barry Miller with me? Katy certainly must already know exactly what I thought of him. She'd been present that night, when that shitfaced Barry Miller had taken her away from me. I hated Barry Miller. I'd always hated Barry Miller. Hadn't I always hated Barry Miller? Part of me said yes. And yet another part of me said no... But very hesitantly. But while my mind was busily arguing with itself and ranting about him internally, I began wondering from where all this emotional vehemence towards Barry Miller had suddenly sprung. It felt really weird. I'd never been as angry or as upset with that asshole as I was at this very moment. I hadn't even been this pissed at him that night Barry had taken Katy from me, although I knew full well I should have been. Something just wasn't right. "Hurry up, Bridget. We don't have all day, you know," prodded Katy. "What do you think of Barry Miller?" "I haven't seen Barry in several years," I objected, although I could never recall another time I'd called him simply Barry. I did remember several times when I had tacked on one or more colorful expressions whenever I referred to him. But I'd never seen anything wrong with calling with an asshole an asshole. And it certainly wasn't my fault that Barry was an asshole; he must have got his assholiness genes from one or both of his parents. Just about then, I began wondering why I just didn't lay all my feelings about that butt-wiping turd out on the line for Katy. After all, she had asked me what I thought of him. "I know it's been a while since you've seen him, Bridget," smiled Katy oddly. "But that's totally irrelevant. Right now, I just need you to answer my simple question." "Oh, all right." I hoped Katy wouldn't be offended or shocked by what I had to say about Barry. I also hoped she wouldn't hold any of what I said against me. It wasn't my fault she had asked me what I thought about him. I took another a deep breath, before once more attempting to avoid answering her question for her own good. "Are you really sure you want to know exactly what I think of Barry Miller?" "C'mon, quit stalling, Bridget. I can take it," said Katy with a growing impatience. "I would have never asked for your opinion of him if I didn't want to know how you truly felt." "All right, but just remember you asked for it." I paused for a moment, took still another deep breath, and then finally blurted out, "I think that Barry's kinda cute." I gasped at the sound of those horrid words that somehow escaped from my mouth. Cute? Barry Miller? What the hell was wrong with me now? I'd just used the otherwise mutually exclusive terms "Barry" and "cute" in the same sentence. I wanted to gag. What could have possibly possessed me to think of that despicable woman-stealing asshole Barry Miller as being in any way cute? "I can't believe you said that. This is just fucking great," snarled Becky unexpectedly. "Back when we were in high school, I always knew you were some kind of a feckless wuss. But I never would have guessed you were also a closet faggot with the hots for the me." Becky slowly shook her head. She appeared agitated with and suddenly very confused about what she'd said. "Or maybe it isn't you. It might be me who's the real problem here," she muttered. "Since we're both girls now, do you think its possible I might have become a lesbo. I'm sure you must know I find you incredibly attractive, Bridget. I always have." Becky was no longer the only one bewildered by the things being said. What she kept rambling on about was making no sense. I had no clues about what was happening to either of us; all my thoughts were swirling about madly in my head. In fact, nothing about any of this was making that much sense to me. "What do you mean I had the hots for you in high school, Becky?" I asked her feeling more than a little confused. She wasn't nearly old enough to have known me in high school. Becky couldn't have been more than a gleam in her mother's eye the year that I graduated. But if that was the case, then why didn't any of it seem right? "I can tell you're going to be a real doll after you finally grow up, Becky. But how could I have ever had the hots for you. I'm not really into girls, you know." When had that happened? "And besides, you're too young for me. You're only a ten-year-old girl that I didn't know before today." "You must really forgive your little sister, Bridget," said Katy. "She's a little farther along her new path than you, but she's still had a tough couple of days. Like you, she is still adjusting to all these wonderful changes in her life. As a result, she will seem occasionally confused and befuddled about who the two of you really are. But you shouldn't worry yourself needlessly. This confusion should soon pass for both of you like a bad dream meant only to be forgotten." "I am not either confused or befuddled!" exclaimed Becky. "I still know exactly who I was before you altered my body into this shape and began playing games with my mind. I am Ba... Ba... I was... Ba..." Becky shook her head in growing frustration. She appeared to fighting with herself over something, which only resulted in whatever name she had wanted to speak being unable to escape her mouth. "This is all so wrong, Bridget. Can't you feel the wrongness too? Help me, Bridget! All I wanted to tell you is I am Becky... Becky Milton." Having finally spoken her name, Becky's frustration seemed to fade, swiftly replaced with a look of great relief. I hoped she was all right now. "And just what's wrong with you two anyway? Both of you should know that I'm eleven years old and not ten." For a fleeting moment after Katy had first said it, I was surprised Becky was my sister. I didn't exactly remember having a little sister named Becky. And yet, at the same time I clearly remembered her. Even if I didn't recognize her surname as being the same as mine at first, I knew she was my sister. Who else but my very own sister could someone who looked so much like me really be? But I couldn't really understand why I had thought she was still ten years old; I knew she was eleven. I'd even gone to her birthday party like a good big sister should. At the same time, something else in my mind suddenly shifted into something different. Although I no longer recalled why, I knew I had just been really angry with this really cute guy named Barry Miller. But after I took another look at my sister Becky to make sure she was still all right, I just couldn't seem to recall knowing any boy, cute or otherwise, named Barry Miller. I knew whoever he was and whatever I was supposedly upset with him about must have happened ages and ages ago. But if it had been long enough ago for me to have forgotten why, then I guess it couldn't have been overly important. On the other hand, it just wasn't like me to forget any boy I considered really cute. But then, maybe he hadn't been all that cute to begin with, since I had long ago decided that all the cuter boys in my life had far better uses than being the target of my anger. I slowly shook my head. Even as I felt the long familiar brushing of my hair across my shoulders, I was certain something wasn't right about all of this. But after another glance at Becky and my own incredibly sexy reflection in the mirror, I had no idea what could possibly be wrong. However, I just knew something was wrong. *** "You should be getting dressed, Bridget. We'll be leaving soon," said Katy with a wide grin. "You and your sister have an audition scheduled for the starring roles of sisters in a new television show currently being cast. Although I must make a couple of phone calls first, everything has been completely set. I know you and your sister will be perfect for these parts. I couldn't believe I actually had an audition. Didn't that mean I'd have stand up in front of people again? "But I was never a very good actor. It was you who was always a fantastic actress, Katy," I objected, but not too strenuously. "Certainly, you must remember that." "Of course, I do, sweetie. But your former lack of appreciable talent will no longer pose any significant problems for you. Now that you're well on your way to becoming Bridget, I've seen to it that you'll also be an excellent actress," smiled Katy, as she turned and headed for the phone in the other room. An excellent actress? Me? An actress? How could I possibly be any kind of an actress? I'd always thought someone had to be female to be an actress? Becky certainly would have no problems in that regard. Since she was my little sister, I could easily imagine Becky being an accomplished actress. But what about me? There was just no way in hell that I could ever be an actress. Despite being recently remolded into this obviously very feminine appearing frame, I still knew deep down I was still male. I might have become a real babe, but becoming an actress required far more from me than simply being one incredibly hot buxomy male. Although Katy had suggested I get dressed, I really had no idea what clothes she expected me to wear. Obviously, none of the clothes I'd been wearing when I'd arrived earlier would fit me any longer. But knowing that didn't lessen my surprise when I looked at my reflection again. Even though there'd been no additional changes effected in my body, a hot and incredibly sexy looking pair of bikini panties had in some mysterious way replaced my boxers. Although I couldn't imagine when my boxers might have been altered, I quickly decided I had no need to worry about something so plainly innocuous. My new sexy bikini panties looked so hot, that I knew they made me look a whole lot sexier than my old dull boxers ever had. As I leaned over to pick my shirt up off the floor, I noticed its appearance had also changed substantially. Wondering how I would look in it now, I slipped it over my head. I was very pleased at finding how perfectly my reformed shirt conformed and clung to my newly obtained contours. It fit me now even better than it had before. Its short sleeves had completely vanished, which didn't really bother me. And even though I knew differently, only those two small straps over my shoulders appeared to be holding it in its place. And its deep plunging neckline showcased my firm, full breasts rather nicely. Although I wasn't exactly certain when I had begun developing this obsession with cute boys, I knew any of them seeing me wearing this outfit would shortly afterwards be drooling with pure lust for me. But things kept getting better. I was more pleased when I returned to the spot where my baggy pants had fallen to the floor. Just as my other clothes had, they too had been totally transformed. My pants had become a short plaid skirt that I knew would look nothing short of totally awesome on my sexy frame. And after I'd quickly slipped into it and looked across the room at my reflection again, I knew I'd been absolutely correct in my assessment. I was totally gorgeous and an incredibly hot babe. And as I looked at myself in the mirror, my new obsession with cute boys suddenly, but not all that unexpectedly, kicked in again. I just knew that if any cute boy didn't want me, then he would have to have something seriously wrong with him. And once, I'd slid my sexy dainty feet into my new platform shoes, I was roaring and ready to go to that audition Katy had set up for my little sister and me. I still wasn't certain that I could ever be as good an actress as Katy. However, I had apparently lost that silly notion I'd had of... That was strange. For some reason, I could no longer remember exactly what silly notion I'd just been thinking I'd lost. But if I'd forgotten whatever that notion was, then it obviously couldn't have been anything of any great importance. Could it? Katy was still talking to someone on the phone. But she seemed agitated about something; their conversation was obviously becoming heated. Since I didn't want to interrupt her, I made my way back to the couch and sat down. After picking up one of the magazines sitting on the coffee table, I just as quickly tossed it aside again. Even though it had seemed like something I would have read at first, I couldn't understand why I'd picked up it in the first place. Its subject matter just wasn't of any interest to me. However, I wondered why Katy might have had that kind of magazine in our room anyway. But the other magazine that had been sitting right next to it was a completely different story. After picking it up, I thumbed through it quickly, although I did stop from time to time to take a closer, and generally longer, look at one or more of the pictures. "Even though you are my big sister, I can't believe that you act like such a silly wanton slut sometimes, Bridget," said Becky sounding inexplicably annoyed and older than an eleven-year-old should. "How many times has Katy told you that she doesn't approve of you looking at that magazine?" "Too many times, I'm sure. And don't you ever getting tired of being such a perfect little prude all the time, Becky," I replied with equal annoyance. "If Katy didn't want one of us looking at any of these great pictures in this magazine, then she wouldn't have left it sitting here in plain sight where we could find it." With the magazine still open to the most recent photograph I'd been admiring, I held it out to my uptight little sister. "Take a good look at this one, Becky. It'll knock your socks off and probably do you a world of good at the same time." "No way!" exclaimed Becky. "I don't care if you want to waste your time look at pictures of naked guys all day long. You can do whatever you want, just like you always do, but I'm not interested." I was shocked. "How can you possibly not be interested in any of these incredibly gorgeous hunks as this one?" But strangely, having just finished admonishing my little sister by asking her the question, I suddenly began feeling a little odd about it myself as I gazed at the stud in the picture. "He's just a hairy beast with a few muscles tossed in for effect. I'd bet he also has a very small one track mind," replied Becky. "I just don't like boys in that same way you do." "But you will eventually, you know." I smiled at Becky, knowing it wouldn't be too many more years before the boys her own age flocked to her and found her just as irresistible as the boys my own age found me. "It won't be very long before you'll love what they can do for you as much as I do." "I certainly hope not," said Becky in disgust. "Boys are so icky." But for some unknown reason, Becky's continued disgust with regard to boys made me start thinking about my own interest in boys. I didn't know what it was, but something just didn't ring true about my being so interested in any of those handsome hunks in that magazine. My own thoughts on the subject made me start doubting myself. And I wondered why any boys would ever consider me totally irresistible. But after another moment had passed, my confidence, fortunately for me, began reasserting itself. I realized these doubts I'd been feeling must have been the product of my vivid overactive imagination working overtime again. There was absolutely nothing wrong with me. How could there be? I mean, why wouldn't any guy in his right mind find me utterly irresistible? After all, I was an awesome fox, not to mention one incredibly hot babe. I knew that with just a simple look, I could get any male to do anything I wanted him to do. And even if some guys might consider that skinny malnourished girl on the cover of that disgusting magazine pretty or built like a brick shithouse, she did absolutely nothing for me. On the other hand, just looking at any picture from among the many handsome virile studs in this slick glossy magazine made me go tingly all over. And yet, regardless of the why I felt, I still couldn't shake off this odd sense of some inexplicable wrongness about everything about me. I still wasn't sure I should be thinking about boys like this. But after casually sweeping my ebony locks away from the front of my face, I still was unable to conceive of anything that could possibly be wrong about my little sister Becky and me being here in Aunt Katy's room. After all, Aunt Katy had been looking after us for years. "Those damn stupid fools," muttered Katy as she returned. "I can't believe they had the nerve to do that to me?" "Who did what to you, Aunt Katy?" asked Becky. "What's wrong, Aunt Katy?" I asked. I could almost bet Katy smiled after both Becky and I called her Aunt Katy. Even though she wasn't really our aunt, both of us had called her Aunt Katy for several years now. But very strangely, that oddly pleased look in her eyes made it seem as if this was the first time she'd heard either of us call her that. "Those stupid fools I called didn't wait. I can't believe they've already cast the parts of both sisters," replied Katy. "They knew they were supposed to wait until after you'd auditioned. Those parts were always intended to be yours. You were made for those roles." "That's terrible news," I replied feeling suddenly very disappointed at this turn of events. In spite of all my earlier misgivings about my ability as an actress, I now realized I'd been looking forward to that audition. Auditions could be really special sometimes. I'd always found them a great place for running onto the cutest boys. But the disappointment was far worse for Becky. As she plopped down on the couch, I could tell she was trying really hard to keep from crying. She was also trying just as hard to keep it hidden from us, but there would always be things my little sister would never be able to hide from me. "You don't need to worry about that job, girls. They'll soon discover their asinine foolishness in not waiting for you to audition." Aunt Katy sounded totally unlike herself. "They're new in this business; they haven't yet realized that crossing me is never the wisest course of action." I was suddenly worried about Aunt Katy. And clearly Becky had noticed that peculiar tone and all those strange inflections in Katy's voice. That equally odd hint of vindictiveness we both clearly heard in her voice wasn't anything like the Katy we had always known in the least little bit. Even her large Irish Wolfhound, once more standing in the hallway, was staring at her curiously. "Don't you start looking at me like that with those big, sad brown eyes of yours," she suddenly snapped at the dog. "I'll have you know that I've already found our girls other, and I believe superior, roles to play." "You have?" asked Becky, suddenly sounding very cheerful. "What kind of roles did you find for us?" I asked. "I think they'll be the perfect roles for you. You're going to be cast as twin sisters," replied Katy. "As I'm sure you're aware, talented sets of twins are all the rage on television right now. The producer I spoke with couldn't believe I represented an incredibly talented pair of twins, who were available to start shooting right away." Becky looked at me. And, with a casual shrug of my shoulders, I looked back at Becky. It was plainly obvious both of us were thinking Aunt Katy must have lost touch with reality somewhere. "But Aunt Katy, we can't possibly take on those roles," we seemed to reply in unison. "We aren't twins." "I wouldn't worry about that," smiled Katy. "At this moment in time you might not be twins, but with the few additional changes I have in mind, no one will ever notice. In a very short while, you should be able to pass as twins to the rest of the world." "But Aunt Katy," I objected, "I really can't see how anyone could possibly mistake Becky and me for twins." "I can't see how its possible for us to portray twins either," added Becky. "I know we look a lot alike because we're sisters, but we'll never be able to deny the wide disparity in our ages. And Bridget's still noticeably more developed than me." "None of that will pose any real difficulties problems, girls," smiled Katy. "I'll take care of everything. You'll see." I wondered what she'd meant, until suddenly, I began feeling very peculiar. After a few moments had passed, I realized I had become shorter than Katy. I now had to look up at Aunt Katy for the first time in several years, although I also vaguely remembered being taller than her. I didn't know how or why I had suddenly shrunk, but my shrinking of a few inches in height, although worrisome in its own right, paled in importance once I realized my impressive titties had also begun deflating. It was so ghastly. I'd liked the size of my breasts just the way they were. And I was absolutely horrified watching them suddenly and inexplicably shrinking. What would I do if they kept getting smaller and smaller until they finally vanished altogether? I just knew I could never enjoy being an adolescent girl just as flat-chested as any other boy again. Fortunately, I suppose, my boobs quit shrinking before they completely disappeared. But I was still deep in mourning; they'd become so tiny. My boobs hadn't been this small since I was... I stopped and shook my head. Something was wrong. Why couldn't I remember the time when they'd been this small before? And then incredibly my hair began growing longer. And while it kept growing increasingly longer, I could see that it was also changing colors. It didn't take very long before my shoulder-length ebony hair had flowed down to the middle of my back while becoming a distinctly reddish shade of blonde. I was flabbergasted by this new development. What had just happened to me? And why? After making my way back to the mirror, I stared at my new reflection. I no longer looked anything like the way I used to look. I was a few inches shorter. My boobs had also become much smaller, as well as singularly unimpressive. My hair, now reddish-blonde in color, had finally stopped growing at my waist. But the worst thing was I looked like a girl of about fourteen years of age. Even though I still considered myself reasonably attractive, I no longer retained much of the girlish figure I'd been so proud of before. And, even if I didn't have any idea what might have happened, my clothes had again altered to reflect this apparent decrease in my age. I was now wearing a tank top that fit no where near as tightly as I would have liked - not that there was that much to show off - and a pair of nondescript shorts. All of a sudden I became more worried. But it wasn't me or any of my problems that distressed me. If whatever it was that had caused me to become so much younger, then what must have happened to my little sister Becky? Expecting the very worst, I looked over at the couch where Becky had been sitting. Just as I had been mysteriously altered, so too had there been definite changes in my sister. But, to my surprise, her transformation hadn't been the same as mine. Becky hadn't become younger. If anything, she'd aged a couple of years. And, even more surprising, she was also staring intently at that magazine page she'd found so disgusting earlier. "What a totally fabulous hunk of manhood," she whispered. But, when she looked up and saw me staring at her, her eyes went wide with surprise. "Bridget? Is that really you over there?" "Yes, Becky, it's me," I replied sadly. "But what happened to you? You look younger and a lot different now." "I'm afraid I'm not the only one that has been changed and looks different. Maybe you'd better come over here and take a long look at yourself in the mirror." And yet Becky didn't need to make it all the way over to the mirror before noticing her body had also changed. Her ass now had a noticeable sway she clearly hadn't possessed before. It would have also been really hard for the unfamiliar swishing of hair back and forth across her back to go unnoticed. And it hadn't taken Becky very long to realize she also possessed her own small pair of breasts that were more less the same size as mine had become. When Becky finally made it to the mirror, she gaped at her reflection for several minutes before giving both me and my reflected image the once over. "What could have happened to us, Bridget?" she asked me with concern. "All of a sudden, you've become younger and I've grown older. We seem to have somehow become identical twins." It was too incredible to believe, but Becky was right. She and I were now twins in both appearance and attire. But hadn't those two new roles Aunt Katy had determined would now be perfect for us also required Becky and me to be twins? Hadn't she also told us we would soon easily pass as twins to the rest of the world? And now... we were twins. "What have you done to us, Aunt Katy," I asked ne