The Class Project Chapters 1-7 free porn video

Author's Note: This is a very slightly edited (cleaned up) version of the original 7 chapters of Class Project which I first posted to the alt.sex.stories.tg newsgroup back in 1995. I've let this tale languish for a long time and I'm not quite the same person I was when I first started writing it. Recently I saw a hyperboard thread listing stories which need to be completed. Class Project was on at least one of those lists. Since then I've been working on the continuation and will be posting new chapters in the near future. Sorry about the wait everyone! The Class Project By Janice Dreamer Chapter 1 "Okay, everyone pair up into teams. Use the remaining time to talk among yourselves and start deciding what your project will be. Remember, you have until Monday to get back to me with your project's title but I need you to sign the sheet as you leave today so I have a list of all the teams." Professor Krawlaski brandished a sign-up sheet at his Anthropology 361 class. His last comment was partially drowned out by the buzz of conversation as the dozen students began sorting themselves out into pairs. Cathy cursed under her breath when the Professor mentioned a "team" project. It was only the first day of the semester and she didn't know any of her classmates yet. But it didn't take a genius to see that she was obviously the only Anthro major in the class, all the others had most likely signed up to satisfy their prurient interest in the course title: A Comparison of Sexual roles in Myth, Legend and Religious \Tradition. She knew she'd probably have to do the work of two people for this project. But it couldn't be helped - the project was 60% of the grade for the class and she'd be damned if she'd ruin her perfect 4.0 GPA because some lame partner would rather party than put in work on their "joint" project. So she held back, trying to size up by looks alone who'd be a good partner. Predictably, the guy she vaguely recognized as some jock on the football team approached the pretty little thing with the big tits; yeah they'd be researching sexual roles all right. And the frat boy seemed instinctively drawn to the sorority queen; Beemer and Mercedes -- what a natural pair -- their project would involve little more than rewriting and editing some paper dredged out of fraternity archives. The remaining choices of prospective partners seemed just as dismal so she merely watched with a feeling of resignation as the rest of the class sorted themselves out, until finally her decision was made by default. One guy remained unpaired. He was very big and awkward looking, visibly nervous, sweating, eyes downcast, his brown hair plastered to his forehead in damp strings. Occasionally he cast a furtive glance around the room to see if anyone might be showing the slightest interest in teaming up with him. Cathy sighed, well it could be worse -- he looked like a real dweeb, totally into academics, so maybe he'd be _some_ help with the research on the project. Bob looked around the room uncomfortably. He always hated when they did this -- made everyone pick partners. It brought back memories of childhood games when he'd been the last picked, enduring the embarrassment of listening to arguments over who'd get 'stuck' with him. He'd turned inward to books and ideas and food. Already overweight and clumsy, he spent more and more time locked in his room with a book and a bag of chips or a box of cookies. It only got worse in high school when everyone else started dating. That only emphasized his isolation. He got great grades but he had almost no sense of how to interact socially. The few painful times he'd managed to get up enough courage to ask a girl out had ended in rejection. Now, here he was in college and nothing had changed - totally paralyzed by fear of rejection over asking someone to be his partner for a stupid term paper. "Hi, I'm Cathy Anderson. Looks like we're a team." Bob looked up, slightly startled to see a woman standing in front of him with her hand extended in greeting. She was tall for a woman, about 5'10". Her face was rather plain and she seemed to project a total disregard for femininity, coarse black hair cut severely short, bushy untended eyebrows, a total lack of jewelry, and baggy dark colored clothing. Her expression seemed detached, coolly superior, as if she were indulgently watching the rest of the world make fools of themselves. Her demeanor reminded him of Morticia Addams - an impression she seemed to cultivate. Bob awkwardly rose from his seat and smiled at her nervously. He wiped his palm on the thigh of his jeans and took her hand. "Uh... hi. I'm Bob... uh...Wilson. I... um... guess we're partners?" Standing, Cathy realized how big he was. At least 6'4" tall, and over 300 lbs. But he carried himself hunched over as though trying to avoid notice. His face wasn't bad looking - if he lost some weight he'd be very attractive, in a Conan the barbarian kind of way. But he looked like he needed self-confidence even more than a diet. His attitude just screamed "I'm not wortheeee!" The bell signaling the end of class rang just then and everyone started the mad rush for the door. "So. I got a class. When can we meet?" she slung her backpack over her shoulder and looked at him expectantly. "Um... how about one?" "Works for me. At the Mickey-D's on the corner." She turned and walked out the door. He pulled out a crumpled bandanna and wiped the sweat from his brow as he watched her leave. ***** Cathy glanced around the crowded McDonald's, feeling ashamed of herself for being relieved that none of her friends were here to see her with Bob. She stared in horrified fascination at the sheer mass of food he'd ordered and found she'd lost her appetite. Her chicken nuggets remained untouched as she watched Bob methodically devour his burgers, all the while humming unconsciously to himself. Finally she tore her attention away from Bob's feeding frenzy, and said "Okay, let's get started. What ideas do you have for a topic?" "I haven't got a clue. I've never taken any Anthropology courses before." "So why exactly _did_ you sign up for this course?" Cathy asked, irritated. He slowly swallowed a bite from his third quarterpounder before answering. When he finally spoke he sounded defensive. "I'm a computer sciences major. The department requires us to take a certain number of non-technical electives - probably they think we won't be geeks if we take a few credits of humanities." Cathy felt guilty for being so judgmental and was sorry she'd snapped at him. He was the stereotypical social outcast. Completely down on himself and anxious to be accepted. She had underestimated just how painfully shy he was; it wasn't her intention to hurt his feelings with her flippant remark. He paused for a moment, watching Cathy's reaction. When she didn't laugh, but actually appeared to sympathize, he seemed to reach a decision. Blushing crimson, he blurted out in a rush, "I guess I...uh... also sort of hoped an Anthropology course or two might help me figure out how to get along with people better... you know, to not be such a _total_ geek." She grinned at his attempt to lighten things up. "But then shouldn't you have signed up for one of the survey courses, something on social interaction? Instead of an advanced course on religious beliefs in primitive society?" "No, that stuff is so trite. Pop psycho-babble I've heard before. But I'm interested in lots of things besides computers. I remember reading Bullfinch's Mythology and thinking how cool all those stories were. Gods and Goddesses and Demons and Angels. I guess I wanted to find out more about all that." "Well, anyway, what topic do _you_ think we should we should do?" Bob asked. "Well, Anthropology is my major, but my real area of interest is the occult. There's just too many claims of supernatural occurrences throughout history. Are _all_ those reports and myths and legends false? Science doesn't explain everything in the universe - at least not yet. It's my theory that at least some of the legends of the occult are based on fact, and by applying the scientific method to research on primitive belief systems we can discover things we never dreamed possible." "Then why don't we do our project on something like that? Maybe on demonology? You know, summoning demons and stuff like that? It sounds like a cool topic." Bob suggested. "Okay, sounds like an original project. I've got some old references on sorcery and alchemy, that sort of thing. We could do an analysis of the methodology for summoning demons. I can drop some reference material off for you to get familiar with over the weekend and we can get together Sunday to write up an outline," Cathy said. ***** Bob muzzily stared at the page and tried to read it for the eighth time. It was no use. He just couldn't get into this mumbo-jumbo pseudo-theological stuff with all the cautions and dire warnings. He had enjoyed reading the myths of the Greek gods as fiction but this stuff Cathy'd given him to read made it all seem so serious, except there was no _logic_ to it. The diagrams were interesting enough with their mathematical precision, exacting placements of lodestones and iron and copper tracings to form geometric shapes; but the 'spells' just seemed like so many nonsense syllables. Why would the guy who originally wrote this be so exact about one thing and then go off into gobbledygook? He tried pronouncing the incantation aloud. The author had painstakingly detailed a phonetic rendering of the words, so their exact pronunciation must have been important to him. He felt silly as he was attempting to speak the meaningless sounds but he noticed a distinct pattern and rhythm to the words. The sounds didn't seem like a language, but the singsong rhythm reminded him of a hypnotist he'd once seen at a stage show. Suddenly he had an inspiration. What if the "spell" was intended more to induce a certain mental state, like a hypnotic trance or a Buddhist monk's meditation chant, rather than actually convey meaning? Then the logic of the instructions for precise phonetic pronunciation made sense to him. Why, he could even mathematically model the sound pattern and input it into the language recognition/cryptography program he was working on as part of his senior thesis. Then he and Cathy could do a high-tech reenactment of a demon summoning, complete with video recording to show the Professor. That would certainly be a new slant on demonology. At the very least it would make a unique class project. And it sounded like a lot of fun. ***** "So look, it's worth a try isn't it?" Bob was explaining his idea to Cathy over a cup of coffee Sunday afternoon. "How typical of a computer science major. You want to take an ancient and solemn ritual and digitize it. Turn it into some kind of computer game!" she said, unconvinced. "Isn't that what the course is all about? Scientific analysis of primitive belief systems? If we do a halfway decent write up we're sure to ace the project," Bob dangled the one lure he knew would entice the grade greedy girl. "Well... a video recording of a summoning ceremony would impress Krawlaski, I guess. And it would be valuable to see if modern science can make sense of a ritual like the one in the Grimoire. Okay, let's do it." "Okay! Now let's work out the details. We can do it at my place -- I've got a big living room - and my roommates spend all their free time over at the University computer center. You supply the expertise on all the rituals and I'll supply the computer and technical expertise." They talked for over an hour until both were satisfied with the idea and their various parts in it. Then they wrote up their outline for submission in class on Monday. ***** The Tuesday before Thanksgiving Cathy and Bob spent all day setting up. Bob's roommates had already left for the extended holiday and they had the apartment to themselves for the next five days. It was ten minutes before the stroke of midnight and they had just finished making a final check of all their preparations. Bob's living room was a mess with all the furniture pushed back to form a clear area in the center with wires and cables strewn everywhere. Wires were laid out on the hardwood floor and stapled down to form three precisely measured pentagrams arranged in an equilateral triangle. Each pentagram had little LED lights at each of the five points of the star design. All the wires ran to an improvised junction box that was in turn connected to a serial computer cable plugged into the com port of Bob's computer. The computer itself sat inside one pentagram. On the monitor was a graphic of a digital clock, ticking down the seconds to midnight. "Well, it's all set. The program'll start automatically at midnight; all we have to do is wait. Let's get a beer before we have to get into position, Cathy. You look tense and it might relax you." Bob said casually. He'd grown comfortable around her over the past weeks as they worked closely together on the project. She was one of the very few women he'd known who he wasn't afraid of, and considered a friend. "This may sound weird, but I think we should be very careful here," Cathy said almost in a whisper. "You know all the old stories about how demons will try to trick you just for spite." "Oh come on, Cathy!" Bob sighed in exasperation. He still wondered why an otherwise intelligent girl took all that mumbo-jumbo so seriously. "This is an experiment, nothing more. At most we might see some interesting natural phenomenon brought on by the magnetic fields in the pentagram patterns and maybe enhanced by a meditation trance from listening to the 'spell'. Everything will be under control of the program. We know a lot more than the people who wrote that 'spell'. We know how the laws of physics work and we know how to control them, so there's no reason to worry about demons and all that." "Well, it can't hurt to be careful anyway. So I think I'll pass on the beer." As if he's going to listen anyway, but at least I tried to warn him. God, when he goes off on his scientist trip he sure can be pigheaded, Cathy thought. Damn shame he couldn't be that confident in the rest of his life. She had grown to like him and wished she could get him to open up more and maybe others would see him as more than a big dweeb. "Suit yourself." Bob wandered over to the kitchen alcove and got himself a beer from the fridge. He flopped down in a chair and sipped it moodily as the countdown crawled by. Finally the screen's graphic changed to a red flashing pattern and the speakers chimed. "Thirty seconds until program initiation, please assume your positions" the computer's artificial voice said. Bob and Cathy got up and stood in the center of the two unoccupied pentagrams. They fidgeted nervously then stood still, staring at the monitor in anticipation as the final seconds ticked off. Just as the timer hit 11:59:59 all fifteen of the LED's at the points of the three pentagrams lit up. Then the screen went blank. From the computer's speaker came rhythmic sounds which rose and fell, becoming guttural one moment then changing to a hauntingly melodic pattern. The sounds were being created by a fractal generating routine which used the demon summoning incantation as its kernel. There was no recognizable language but the sounds had a strangely hypnotic effect and both Bob and Cathy felt themselves drifting along while the computer generated "spell" echoed in their minds. Meanwhile the screen had come to life in a constantly changing pattern of swirling colors, which added to the sense of detachment they were feeling as a result of the incantation - an embellishment Bob had made on the original instructions for the spell caster to picture a repetitive series of geometric shapes in his mind. Bob and Cathy were both swaying slightly in time to the rhythm of the "spell". Their eyes were riveted to the computer screen as the patterns flashed and faded and metamorphosed constantly. Slowly the tempo increased and the sounds seemed to assume an air of supplication, almost pleading. Imperceptibly the lights in the apartment seemed to dim, until only the light from the computer and the small LED's at the starpoints of the pentagrams remained. With a tiny remaining rational portion of his mind Bob noticed the fading light and dismissed it as most likely a result of his concentration on the computer program. After an indeterminate time, the chanting from the computer built to a fever pitch and died abruptly with a final crescendo of sound. At the same time the screen went black and the room was bathed in near total darkness with just the tiny red light from the LED's creating a weird shadowy universe of indistinct menacing shapes. "Wow. Too weird." Bob felt a cold draft run up his spine and he shook himself as if waking from a dream. "Must have blown a fuse. I'll check the circuit breakers." "Stop!!" Cathy nearly screamed before he could take a step. She continued in a voice trembling with both terror and unbelieving awe, "Don't move a muscle or you're doomed." "Huh? What're you talking about?" "Look where the computer was! And whatever you do, don't leave your pentagram!" Bob turned back to peer through the gloom at the center of the other pentagram. His eyes had begun to adjust to the darkness and he made out a swirling red tinged figure where his computer had been only seconds before. It was in constant flux like a swirling gas, yet appeared to be solid. It had the general outline of a person, but there was nothing human about it. "What the hell is that?" Bob blurted. "You should know, human, you summoned me here." said a voice dripping with disdain from the strange apparition. "Holy shit! It worked! I don't believe it!" Bob felt his heart hammering in his chest. "Believe it. You called, I'm here." the weird creature said. "Is it... Are you... really..." Bob was having trouble accepting what his senses were telling him. "Am I really... what? Humans are so predictable. They always ask. I am what your ancestors called a demon. You've trapped me here with your little toys and now you get a wish fulfilled so I can go free." "A wish? We can wish for anything?" Bob remembered Cathy's caution about how demons were tricksters. "And what do we have to give up in exchange?" "No you can't wish for _anything_ you stupid creature. My powers are limited. I can't affect anyone or anything except what has summoned me and fed me. So I can't make you rich and I can't make another love you. But I can alter your own physical bodies - quite a lot, in fact. In the past there has never been sufficient energy remaining from a summoning to do more than restore youth and health to those who summoned me, but your mechanical devices seem to have provided a surfeit of power. In other words I can give you the body you have always desired. And to answer your other question, you don't have to give anything in exchange. No souls, no damnation. Nothing." "But then why do you grant wishes, what's in it for you? And why should we trust you?" Bob asked, immediately suspicious. "Let's just say that my kind exists on the chaos generated by human emotions, among other things. Most of the time you never realize we're around. But the energy pattern you created tonight charged my being with incredibly more energy than normal - you might say I'm bloated. It raised my energy level to the point where my 'body' has manifested itself in a state which you can perceive with your physical senses. But this high energy level is awkward for me and is capable of being manipulated and constrained by the same mental-electromagnetic field which raised me to this current level of energy. To make an analogy - you have force fed me so much that my belly has swollen to an enormous size, and now I can't move from your pentagram unless I digest this energy and excrete it. Fulfilling a wish will require expending some of the energy I have consumed, and thus free me to go about my life. And, before you ask, your free will acceptance of the energy is the only way to trigger my release. Once I have accomplished that, my balance is restored and the force holding me here is nullified, and I can go back to grazing on your emotions. Think of me as a kind of mental symbiont." "You mean you _can't_ leave until you fulfill a wish?" Cathy asked. "No. Didn't you listen? I have all this excess energy anchoring me here. The only way I can discharge it is through your _voluntary_ acceptance of it. A wish, two wishes in fact, since each of you must accept the discharge for symmetry. Otherwise I'm stuck here until my energy level dwindles -- which could take years -- or there is a disruption in the magnetic field holding me, such as a power failure or someone crossing one of the lines in the pattern." "Bob, we've got to do this - there's no way we can wait him out in these pentagrams. But be _very_ careful what you wish for." Cathy cautioned. It made a weird kind of sense, Bob had to admit. "Okay. What do we have to do to get this over with then?" he asked the demon. "Just close your eyes and picture in your head the kind of body you've always wanted and I'll take care of the rest. You'll have to concentrate to get exactly what you wish for." Bob still wasn't sure he should trust this creature but the thought of being able to change his fat unattractive body into a babe magnet was extremely tempting. So he slowly closed his eyes. "Good. Now just let your mind go blank," he heard the demon saying. "You're both doing fine..." Suddenly, inside his head he saw the whirling pattern of dots before his eyes coalesce into the indistinct shape of the demon. It looked both ways in a weird pantomime of checking to make sure they were alone and leaned upwards and spoke in a stage whisper, "Okay, Bob, this is just between you and me. Before you start picturing your perfect body, how'd you like to get the chance to redesign your partner, old tight-ass over there?" The demon gestured and Bob saw an image of Cathy in his mind, standing in the middle of her pentagram, just as he'd last seen her before the demon appeared. "You can make her into your dream girl if you want, it's up to you." "Why are you offering me this? I thought the spell was constraining you? And I thought you could only affect my body, not someone else's." Bob asked suspiciously. "I told you we live off the energies generated by emotions. Well, I figure this way will generate more emotion than if she gets her wish and becomes some lesbian superwoman. As I said, I can't affect anyone except those who summoned me - but she _is_ one of those who summoned me, her mind is interwoven in the energy field. But your mind is very strong and your mental image of what you want her to look like might be able to supersede hers. I'll simply replace her mental image of her wish with your mental image of your dream girl when I initiate the change." "But what if my mental energy isn't strong enough?" "Then no harm done, she gets the body she wished for and nobody's the wiser. But if it works, you get your very own dream girl -- a total nympho sex slave all your own!" "Sex slave? You also said you couldn't make another love me." Bob protested, still suspicious. "I _can't_ make her love you, idiot," the demon seemed to be getting exasperated. "But I _can_ give her new body a _very_ high sex drive, _extremely_ sensitive to arousal. With you in your own Greek god incarnation, all you'll have to do is whistle and she'll be eating out of her hands." The offer was extremely tempting. Wouldn't it be great to have the girl of his dreams AND a great physique? Plus the demon had hit upon Bob's main vanity - that his mental abilities were better than any woman's. It was every dateless dweeb's conviction that he was smarter than all those attractive people having fun and partying. "Okay. I'll try I t. What do I have to do?" "Just imagine the perfect woman. Let her take shape in your mind. I'll help you hold the image once you picture it, then we'll fill in the details..." Bob thought about all the Centerfolds he'd ever admired and all the pretty women he'd seen. He saw a woman's shape take form in his mind and he began picturing all the things he found sexy about a woman. Firm breasts, their shape...yes, just like that... A small pert nose... Sexy creamy smooth skin... Very long silky strawberry blonde hair... Long tapering fingers... Full sensuous lips... Shapely slender legs leading up to a round, firm ass... The image seemed to hold its form in his mind with no conscious effort on his part, leaving him free to fantasize and edit each tiny detail without trying to hold the entire picture in his head. Finally he seemed satisfied with his fantasy woman and could think of no way to further improve her. "That is what you want, Bob?" the demon asked, breaking into his fantasy. "Yes, that's exactly what I want." Bob said lustfully, aroused by his own mental imagery. "DONE!" said the demon in a booming voice. Bob's eyes flew open just in time to be blinded as the demon's 'body' disappeared in a brilliant flash of light. He felt suddenly very dizzy then everything went black. Chapter 2 Bob woke to a bright light in his face. It was the sun glaring in his apartment window. He was confused when he realized he was lying on the floor in his living room. Why? Last night was a blank, but he didn't feel hungover -- in fact he felt pretty good -- so why had he slept in his clothes on the floor. He blinked a couple times and raised his arm to shield his eyes from the sunlight. The sleeve of his flannel shirt hung loosely on his arm and draped completely over his hand, very strange since it normally fit snug on his forearms and came a bit short on his wrists. He wrinkled his nose -- the whole apartment smelled of burnt plastic and charred wood. Was there a fire? He propped himself up on one elbow to get a better look at the room. The first thing he saw was the smoking puddle of plastic that was all that remained of his computer. His computer! Fuck! Encircling the ruined computer and crisscrossing the living room was a maze of ugly black scorch marks on the hardwood floor. Shit, the landlord's gonna be pissed, he thought. As his sleep-dulled mind slowly considered the damage to the apartment, memory of the previous night returned to him. With a feeling of dread he bolted up to a sitting position and frantically swept the room with his eyes. "Cathy?!" he called. His voice sounded strange to him. He cleared his throat and tried again, "Cathy, are you okay?" His voice was still strangely high pitched, but he ignored it for the moment, because he heard a low moan coming from behind him and to the left. Like a hyper-alert sentry dog he whipped his head around to locate the source of the moan. Something weird was happening, for he experienced an unaccustomed sensation of weight from long hair swinging with the motion of his head. Stranger yet, his vision was suddenly blocked by a curtain of reddish blond hair which flew over his eyes and across most of his face. He reflexively reached up and managed to push most of the mass of hair back from his face although several stray strands still hung over his eyes and clung to his cheeks and mouth. But he ignored this distraction as he took in the sight of the other person in the room. Cathy was sprawled on the floor on the opposite side of the room. She was on her side facing towards him. Her face was clearly visible and it was definitely Cathy. But a Cathy who'd been transformed into a real beauty. The differences were subtle except her hair -- which was much longer -- but all combined they resulted in a haughty beauty. She was slimmer, perhaps even a little taller, he guessed, based on how her ankles stuck out from the legs of her jeans. Lovely as she was, Bob was disappointed, for she wasn't the fantasy woman of his imagination that the demon had promised him. Wait a minute, Bob thought with a sinking feeling, if Cathy has been changed to look like that, then what about me - what do I look like? With a feeling of unreality he reluctantly tilted his head downward to look at himself. The first thing to catch his eye was a rich mass of long red gold hair that spilled over his shoulders and fell down his chest and almost reached his lap. As for other differences, he couldn't really see much at first because he was practically swimming in his clothes. But the fact that his clothes were so big on him was further verification his body had definitely changed. He was accustomed to seeing his large belly protruding over his belt, stretching the fabric of his shirt and straining the buttons. Instead his clothes -- they were definitely the clothes he'd worn last night -- hung on him like a parachute. Wonderingly, he raised his arms from his lap to get a better look at them. The sleeves were so long his hands were completely swallowed by them, as if he were a little boy trying on his father's clothing. Awkwardly he pushed one sleeve down to his elbow and stared in shock at the sight of his hand. It was a woman's hand, slim and feminine with long delicate fingers. His nails extended half an inch beyond the ends of his fingers. His wrist and forearm were slender with almost no visible muscle tone and without a trace of hair anywhere. He pulled back the sleeve on his other arm and ran his hand over his skin, feeling how silky soft it was. As he moved his arms around to look at them from all angles, he felt his shirt slip off his right shoulder and slide down his upper arm. He always wore the top three buttons open for comfort, and now the neck opening went all the way down his arm to just above his elbow. Most of the right half of his chest was now exposed, revealing hairless satin smooth skin tanned a rich bronze where formerly there had been pasty white skin sparsely covered with coarse hair. Although logically he should have been expecting it, he was surprised by the swell of soft flesh which pushed outwards from his chest and held up his shirt, preventing it from sliding the rest of the way down to his waist. He grabbed his neckline with a hand once more mittened inside his shirts sleeve and pulled his shirt away from the front of his body. He was staring down at two large, gorgeous, womanly breasts! "Ho-leee shit!" he breathed in a whisper as he stared down, openmouthed. He sensed their weight on his chest now, or rather identified the sensation as being caused by the weight of his... breasts - the concept that he had breasts was still alien to him. Like the feel of his long hair, he'd noticed many different sensations since waking but his brain was still in the process of assimilating everything. And of course, even more than his breasts, the area his brain had to do the most interpretation of new sensations from was... He reached down for his crotch, already knowing, and fearing, what to expect. His hand brushed soft pubic hair - blonde he'd bet - and a pubic mound. No cock. No balls. He gingerly inserted a finger past the outer lips of his vagina and cautiously explored by touch. His new equipment was very sensitive to his touch, was _extremely_ sensitive in certain areas, similar to how his cock had been sensitive all over but more so at the head than the shaft, except this was even more intensely sensitive than even the head of his cock. A wild thought went through his mind that this was his very first time to actually touch a pussy - and it was his own! Bob removed his finger from inside himself. He sat still, gently cupping his smooth new pubic mound, as if to verify it was real. He mentally reviewed everything he could remember about last night. Impossible as it seemed, he had to accept the only obvious explanation for what had happened to him. The fucking demon had changed him into his own fantasy woman. He lightly stroked his downy pubic hair, that seemed proof enough to confirm his conclusion. Just then Cathy shifted slightly in her sleep, reminding him that he wasn't alone. Embarrassed, he removed his hand from his pants - he didn't know how long he'd sat there with his hand on his crotch and he surely didn't want Cathy to wake up and see him like that, she might get the wrong idea about what he'd been doing. He stood up and, in doing so immediately felt his body was more supple than previously. His joints seemed to bend farther and it required much less effort rising from the floor than it had just yesterday. As he rose he unintentionally left his jeans and underpants behind him, they were a 48 inch waist and had been getting a bit tight on him, but now, impossibly huge on his new body, they just slid down to his ankles. He stepped from the pile of clothes, clad only in a shirt that fell down to mid-calf and a pair of socks so loose they barely stayed on his feet. Experimenting a bit with his new flexibility, he brought his leg up behind him, bent at the knee, and twisted around and pulled the sock off, then repeated it for the other sock. Never in a million years could he have done that before! He stretched his arms out and bent over at the waist with his knees straight and laid his hands flat on the floor. While still bent over he hugged the backs of his legs and touched his cheek to his shins, and held that position for a slow count of ten before he straightened up. He couldn't believe how easy it was. He stretched up on his tiptoes and raised his hands in the air, reveling in the feeling of vitality of his new body. He felt light and energetic, and... well, he felt great, possibly better than he'd ever felt in his entire life. He tried to mentally catalog the differences in his body, other than the obvious one. Throughout his contortions he kept being reminded of his breasts. He might brush one with an arm unexpectedly, or feel the weight of them hanging down from his chest when he bent over. That would take some getting used to. So would his hair, he thought. It had weight - much more than he would have thought. And whenever he moved his head or bent over it got in his face. He never realized how much trouble long hair was for women. Another obvious difference: he was much smaller now, but he wasn't sure exactly how much. He glanced upwards at the ceiling and it looked higher than normal. He used to be able to reach up and touch it flatfooted. Now, even on tiptoe with his arms straight up as high as he could reach, it seemed impossibly high. He wasn't sure he could touch it at all, even if he jumped. He walked over to the front door and looked up, he didn't think he could even reach the top of the door jamb without jumping. Bookshelves against the wall that had been eye level were now over his head. How much _had_ he shrunk, he wondered. The clock on the wall chimed the hour and Bob was startled to see it was two in the afternoon. If it was Wednesday then the demon had knocked them out for over 12 hours. They only had four and a half more days until everyone came back from Thanksgiving. He needed to figure out what he was going to do, what he was going to tell his roommates, how to change himself back, or how to deal with things if he couldn't. Well, first things first, he thought. See if Cathy's okay, then we'll try to figure out what to do next. God, I wonder how she's gonna take this? He went over to Cathy and gently shook her. "Cathy? Cathy, wake up!" She moaned softly and blindly tried to push his hands away. "I'm tired. Gonna skip class. Go 'way." "Come on Cathy! You _have_ to wake up!" he shook her more urgently. Her eyes flickered open, slowly focusing on his altered appearance, and she suddenly tensed. "Where am I? And who the hell are _you_?" "It's me -- Bob. Remember last night? The experiment for class? Something's gone wrong. We've got to _do_ something!" his voice sounded overly shrill to his ears. Up to now he'd somehow remained relatively calm, probably due to shock, but seeing the lack of recognition on Cathy's face seemed to make it all so much more real, and he felt a rising panic. "Bob?!" she looked at him like he was crazy, "Girl, I don't know who you are but you're sure not Bob." "It _is_ me, Cathy! I swear! Think. Last night. That demon did this. It changed me. It tricked me - just like you warned me." "Demon..." Her eyes grew big and she gasped in sudden realization. She sat up and momentarily glanced around in shocked disbelief at the havoc in the living room. Then she turned back to Bob, skeptically studying his new face, "Last night... I remember... the demon. But you say you're Bob? You _can't_ be Bob?" "Yes I am! I told you, the demon changed me. If you don't believe me, then look at yourself - it changed you too. Maybe not like it did me, but you sure didn't look like this last night. Just look in the mirror and you'll see what I mean." With a look like she was humoring a maniac Cathy uncertainly got to her feet and went into the bathroom to see herself. Bob followed and stood beside her, both of them staring into the full length mirrored door of the linen closet. He was seeing himself as a woman for the first time, but it was a familiar reflection - he imagined this face nearly every time he masturbated. He had the advantage of expecting to see himself as he now was, even though it was still shocking and fascinating all at once. Cathy had no such prior warning and could only stare at her new image in slack-jawed amazement. Cathy hadn't been ugly before, merely plain. Now however, she was lovely -- but still recognizably herself. It was as if someone had taken a photo and airbrushed away all the imperfections. She was now slimmer with fuller breasts and a narrow waist. Her face had been subtly altered with finer features, giving her an aristocratic air. Her hair had always been coarse and tended to frizz, necessitating that she keep it cut short. Overnight, her hair had grown at least six inches and now it shone jet black, and lay perfectly straight and silky sleek, with no hint of frizzies, in an elegant blunt cut so it fell at her jawline. Her skin was flawless, milky pale perfection which contrasted beautifully with her dark eyes and hair. Cathy gasped in disbelief. It was as if all the tiny flaws she'd agonized over as a teenager had been erased. "This is just what I pictured in my head last night." She whispered while putting a hand to her face, not quite sure if she were dreaming. "It's real! I don't believe it! But it's real. This is exactly how I used to imagine myself, I dreamed as a teenager that someday I'd grow up to look like this. And it's real... I can touch my face... I can feel myself touching my face... It must be true..." she sensed herself babbling and stopped, self-consciously. Then the full implications hit her and she said, doubtfully "then... you must really be Bob?" She spoke to Bob's reflection in the mirror, totally awestruck by her own reflection and unwilling to turn away from her idealized self for even a moment. "That's what I've been trying to tell you," he said softly. "But... you're a woman... you look like a woman... are you?" she looked more closely at Bob's image in the mirror. He nodded, and said ruefully, "Completely. At least I think so." "Then... let me get this straight... you _wished_ for the demon to make you a woman?!?!" she turned away from the mirror to look at him incredulously. "Well... not exactly..." Bob wondered what he should tell her, then realized she was the only one who could help him, so he decided to be honest. "Um... like I said, the demon tricked me... you warned me about that, I know, but I didn't listen." "Tricked you? How?" Cathy was beginning to suspect something. "Well... it offered me a chance... to umm... have some... input into how I'd like you to look." Bob mumbled while watching Cathy's face for her reaction. She was silent for a moment, chewing over what he said. Then in a sarcastic tone she said, "How you'd like ME to look?" "Umm... yeah, that's right," Bob replied meekly. "You mean to say you thought _you_ had the right to decide how _I_ look? Of all the arrogant..." Cathy was nearly sputtering, incoherent with rage. She chopped off her tirade, made a visible effort to collect herself, then leaned back against the sink and insolently looked at him, letting her gaze slowly move from head to foot and back up again. Finally, in a voice filled with scorn, she continued, "And you thought I wanted to look like _that_?!?! A simpering little tart? A blonde bimbo whore? You've spent too much time with centerfolds instead of real women. And that's where you belong now - with a staple in your bellybutton. Ha! Well you got your wish, Asshole - now you can live with it!" "I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. I was wrong. I guess I got what I deserved." Bob felt himself wilting under Cathy's anger. His lip began trembling uncontrollably, his chin was quivering, and he started to cry. He was mortified to show such weakness; through many years of taunting and slurs about his weight he'd never cried in front of anyone - he'd never given them the satisfaction of seeing his pain - but now here he was weeping like a baby, and he couldn't stop himself. "Oh stop it. Tears won't help you now." Cathy tried to cling to her anger - she felt justified - but she sensed his pain and her heart went out to Bob. They'd become friends over the past months. He was basically a decent guy, even if he was retarded when it came to women. He meant well. What he was going through, well she just couldn't imagine the trauma of waking up as radically changed as he was now. Finally she couldn't pretend aloofness any longer and she put her arms around him and hugged him, feeling the sobs wrack his body. "It's okay. Shhhh." Cathy felt her anger drain away as Bob's tears soaked her tee shirt. As she calmed down, she began to think more coherently and guiltily remembered her own dealings with the demon last night. She'd nearly been suckered just like Bob. "I'm sorry for yelling. I'm not mad anymore. Calm down and listen to me a sec. I've got a confession. I was offered the same chance as you -- to decide how you'd look. I was tempted too. The only thing that stopped me was I kept thinking of all the stories of how demons tricked people. So I was too scared to do anything but play it totally straight and send that thing back to where it belonged." Bob looked up at her. His big blue eyes were glistening and his cheeks were streaked with tears. He searched her face, hopeful that she was truly offering forgiveness. He sniffled once, then squeaked in a tiny voice, "Really?" Cathy smiled. "Really. If not for pure luck and me being scared out of my head I might look like Antonio Sabato right now." Bob grinned, feeling relieved she could joke about it. He wiped the tears from his face and became very solemn. "I'm sorry Cathy. It was presumptuous of me to think I could... well anyway, I'm sorry. You're a good friend for understanding." "No harm done... at least not to me. But we need to think about what we're going to do with you." Cathy drew a deep breath and reluctantly continued, "Much as the idea scares me, maybe we can run the spell again and change you back? Unless... well, to be honest that demon scared the shit out of me, and maybe it might be for the best if we didn't play with fire. You might have fun being a woman..." "Of course we have to change me back!" Bob was dumfounded that Cathy apparently didn't see that was the only alternative. He sighed. "But, did you get a look at the living room? My computer's hopeless - we need to get a new one before we can rerun the program. And like an idiot I never made a backup of the data for the demon program. Once I get a new computer it'll take days to recreate everything - and I'm stuck like this till we do!" As he spoke, Cathy looked at him standing there in a ridiculously oversized shirt that hung down below his knees. She voiced her thought, "Well, if you're gonna look like that for a few days, we need to get you something to wear that you won't trip over." She studied him critically a moment, then continued, "You're so tiny, I don't think I have anything to fit you. And there's sure nothing of your own that will fit. You can't go out looking like that... I should probably run out and pick you up something that you can wear for now. Then, if we need anything more, we can go together and you can try stuff on before we buy anything else." Bob looked doubtful, how could she think about clothes at a time like this? But he couldn't argue with her logic - he couldn't spend the next several days wrapped in a sheet. "Okay... I guess. I suppose while you're gone I can start cleaning up and see if anything's salvageable." "Good idea. But first, we need to take your measurements so I can get your size." She glanced at herself in the mirror appraisingly, pulled the waistband of her jeans out, noted how much excess material she now had and continued, "And while we're at it, you can help me check my new measurements too. Maybe I'll buy something for myself that'll fit me a little better." "I suppose you're right. But do you need to go right this minute? We should start working up an action plan on how to resolve this whole situation. Going shopping seems a little trivial, don't you think?" Bob wanted her to focus on the main issue and stop going off on irrelevant tangents. "Yeah, right. You want an action plan, Bob? Okay, I can give you an action plan. Step one, state the problem to be resolved. I'd say the problem to be resolved is: that thing turned you into a woman! A _naked_ woman who's wandering around wearing a tent! You can't get into the University computer center dressed like that. You can't go to the library. You can't go buy a computer - which you need in order to change back. You can't even go pick up a box of tampax, which if you dither around long enough you're _gonna_ need, Bob! So I say priority one is to get you something to wear so you can take care of steps two, three and so on. Now it's the day before Thanksgiving, Bob, and the stores will be closing down real soon and won't reopen until Friday. So I think going shopping right now is a little more than a trivial whim, Bob. Duh!" Cathy rolled her eyes. Bob blushed and said meekly "I'll go find a measuring tape." They took each other's measurements, weighed themselves and wrote it all down. Bob was now just barely 5 feet tall, weighed all of 92 pounds and sported a sexy 34-18-32 figure. He'd lost 16 inches of height and over 200 pounds. When Cathy read off his waist measurement Bob could hardly believe it, his _neck_ had used to be 20 inches! Cathy's measurements weren't as drastically changed. She had grown an inch and a half taller to 5'11-1/2". She'd lost nearly 30 pounds and now weighed 135. Her measurements were the classic clich? 36-24-36, much better than yesterday's 34-28-38. She preened in front of the mirror while Bob fussed with the tape, still not sure she wasn't dreaming. After they finished measuring, they stood side by side and looked at themselves in the mirror. They made an interesting pair -- a study in contrasts. Bob came up about even with Cathy's shoulders, she could rest her chin on the top of his head. Cathy was long legged and svelte, with full breasts but having the overall impression of slender elegance. Bob was tiny and fragile looking, his bust measured two inches less than Cathy's but appeared to be much larger on his small frame and minuscule waist. Even their coloring was radically different. Cathy was pale, accented by midnight black hair clipped in a precise coif with each strand naturally falling exactly in place and eyes so dark and deep they promised mysteries unimaginable. Bob was bronze, like he'd been working on the perfect tan all his life, with sapphire blue eyes and golden blonde hair glinting with coppery highlights that cascaded down to the small of his back in unruly waves. Cathy's overall look was cool and polished, supermodel sleek, sophisticated, and refined elegance. Bob's look was more winsome, playful exuberance, wildly unbridled and wantonly sexual. "Wow. You're gorgeous, Cathy" Bob broke the silence which had descended as they stared at themselves. "Don't you mean we are gorgeous, cutie? You make one sexy looking babe." Cathy teased. "Now I better get going or we'll never get you anything to wear." ***** Bob tried to do something constructive while Cathy was gone. He started going through the mess on the table where his computer was. Everything was ruined. It was so discouraging. The melted plastic from the computer had even run all over their notes, like lava from a volcano and singed them so badly he couldn't make out but one word in ten. The worst was when he pried up a congealed blob of plastic and discovered the remains of Cathy's Grimoire. Some chemical in the plastic must have reacted with the book. It looked like someone had dipped the thing in acid. There was nothing left but the frayed leather binding. The original spell was in that book. If Cathy didn't have another copy then all was lost - they'd never be able to recreate the summoning spell from memory. It felt like the entire world had turned against him. It was all so hopeless. Slowly Bob sank to the floor. He drew his knees up to his chest, hugging his legs, laid his head on his knees and started to cry again. After a while he was cried out. Strangely, he felt better. As if the pressure of stress had all drained away. When he'd been male he used to masturbate, whenever possible, if pressure got to him. Was he going to start crying from now on? God, what is wrong with me, he thought. I can't control my emotions. Is this what my life is going to be from now on? He tried to put those thoughts out of his mind. He walked back to the bathroom and washed his face. He stood leaning over the sink with water dripping down his face mesmerized by his reflection. He was staring at the face he fantasized about every time he masturbated. Even though he wasn't feeling particularly aroused, curiosity got the better of him. He straightened his body and shrugged off the shirt he was wearing -- not hard to do - he just unbuttoned a couple top buttons, dropped his arms to the side and wiggled his shoulders and the monstrously oversized garment slithered down his body and puddled around his ankles. He took one step forward, kicked the shirt behind him, and voila - nude blonde. He giggled - talk about your fantasies coming to life! He stared at himself in the full length mirror. There was less shock, more familiarization in his examination now. He wasn't yet comfortable with his new appearance but he no longer felt totally in denial either. He studied himself more like someone experimenting with combing his hair differently than someone who'd woken up to find his head shaved bald. He tried imitating some of the things he enjoyed watching women do. Tossing his head to see his hair fly about. Standing profile on tiptoes to see how his ass and legs looked. Leaning over to watch how his breasts hung and jiggled on his chest. Cocking his head to one side and smiling seductively. Blowing air kisses. Posing with one hand on hip, one leg slightly cocked. Soon he was posing more and more provocatively. He felt silly, exhilarated, and a little embarrassed, all at once, and was also starting to feel a little turned on. As he continued posing, his touch on his skin became more languorous. He began touching himself more for the pleasurable sensations he was eliciting than for the visual impact of the poses. Before long, he stopped posing altogether and simply stood still and caressed his body. Slowly Bob traced the outline of his breasts with his fingertips. God, that felt so good! He cupped them in his hands and felt their weight. The skin was soft and satin smooth. He gently stroked his nipples with just the tips of his index fingers. Oh! He felt his nipples crinkle - hard. He'd felt a similar sensation of arousal when he'd been a man and had curiously played with his own nipples, but that wasn't even close to this powerful feeling. His knees grew weak and he felt a stirring in his crotch. He traced his right hand down his belly, savoring the downy softness of his new skin, and lightly brushed his silky pubic hair. Feather soft he grazed the outer folds of his new sex with the tips of his first and second fingers. It was too much -- he moaned aloud, aching with desire. His nipples grew even stiffer, as if they would burst. Bob felt overwhelmed with sensations which were vaguely familiar, similar to male arousal, but also different, strangely wonderful and enticing. With an urgency akin to penile erection his new vagina seemed to swell and blossom, tingling, ultra-sensitive, straining for a touch, impelling him to... DING DONG! "Oh SHIT!" Bob moaned in frustration. He guiltily snatched his hands away from his body and tried to calm his breathing and slow his pounding heart. Cathy was back awfully early, she probably forgot something. DING DONG! DING DONG! "Hold on, I'm coming!" He called, irritated. "Well, I almost did," he muttered to himself. He looked around for something to put on so he could answer the door. The last thing he wanted was to give the neighbors a thrill. He rejected the shirt he'd just taken off as way too big -- likely to slip open and reveal his newly acquired charms to anyone in the parking lot. Cathy was right, all his old clothes would be like wearing a tent, so he decided to look for something in his roommate's room. Jim was in much better shape than Bob had been and might have something that he could wear in a pinch. Jim was a men's medium as compared to Bob's 4Xlarge. Jim wouldn't mind if he borrowed his clothes Bob reasoned, they were best friends and he'd have done the same for Jim if he were suddenly turned into a woman by a demon. On top of the bed was a basket of clean laundry. Bob grinned, it was so typical of Jim to do laundry _before_ going to visit his parents, Jim was too considerate for his own good. Quickly he rummaged through the clothes-basket and came up with a yellow tank top that Jim used for running. It was loose on Jim so it should fit his new body almost like a dress. He pulled it over his head, glanced in the bureau mirror and saw that he was 'decent' -- barely. It came pretty high on his thighs, and his breasts were rather prominently displayed, but there wasn't time to look for anything better. Besides, he'd be changing into the clothes Cathy brought once he opened the door for her. DING DONG! DING DONG! KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! "I SAID I'm coming!" Bob yelled. Exasperated, he stomped over and yanked open the door without bothering to check the peephole. "What the hell's the rush..." his angry comment trailed off when he saw who was at the door. Leaning against the door frame with his back mostly turned so he was facing the parking lot was Brad Franklin. Brad was everything Bob had not been as a man. He was handsome, self-assured, athletic, rich, and had a way with the ladies - he seemed to always have a gorgeous woman hanging on him. He and his friends were the social elite on campus. They belonged to the best fraternity, drove the hottest cars, threw the wildest parties, and fucked the most beautiful women. Bob hated him. He lived in the next apartment over and saw Bob all the time, yet hardly even acknowledged his existence. He'd drive past Bob walking to class and never offer him a ride, even when it was raining. The only time he ever spoke to Bob or any of his roommates was when he'd throw one of his parties and come over to bum some ice. In no hurry, as if he was accustomed to people waiting on him, he straightened up and began turning toward Bob. "I was afraid you'd all gone for the holiday. Hey, man, I need some..." He paused and broke into a wide grin as he got his first look at the new and improved Bob. His eyes leisurely wandered downward, oozing over Bob's body, gliding down his legs to his bare feet, then crawled back upward and came to rest squarely on his breasts. "...n-i-i-i-i-i-c-e... No, Ice. I mean. I need some ice. Got any?" With Brad's attention so obviously focused on his chest, Bob became acutely aware of how stiff his nipples were and how they pushed out the thin fabric of the tank top. He also remembered how flushed and excited he looked in the mirror just before he came to answer the door. Realizing how he must appear to Brad, Bob blushed deeply, let go the door knob and self-consciously brought his arms up to hug his chest. Brad grinned even wider as he watched Bob's reaction, obviously interpreting it as appreciation for his own manly form. When Bob released the door to cover his breasts Brad, ever opportunistic, took advantage of this to push the door open a bit wider and take a step across the threshold, thus preventing Bob from closing the door. "Hi, I'm Brad, I live next door. You're new. I thought three guys lived here... Jim... and um... Scott... and... Bob? I've never seen you before." He flashed a friendly smile and offered his hand in greeting. Reflexively, Bob reached out his hand and said, "I'm Bob... uh... Bob's sister... Bob's sister... uh... Robyn. Yah, Bob's sister, Robyn. Nice to meet you, Brad." Smooth, very smooth, Bob mentally kicked himself for being an idiot. Before he realized what was happening Brad had taken his hand, but not in a normal handshake as Bob expected. He enfolded Bob's fingers and held them loosely, horizontally, as though he were about to raise Bob's hand to his lips and kiss it. Bob had never realized before the subtle difference in the way a man takes a woman's hand - and how it made the woman feel vaguely vulnerable - it was not the handshake of equals. Flustered, Bob blushed all the more, and tried to draw back his hand. But Brad squeezed his fingers lightly and held on with just enough pressure to prevent Bob from graciously withdrawing his hand. Unconsciously, Bob's free arm had dropped to his side to counterbalance the extension of his right arm, so he stood there feeling awkward and trapped, his right hand captured by Brad while his left hand fluttering ineffectually near the hem of his tank top. "Very nice to meet you, Bob's sister Robyn. You have lovely... hands." As he spoke these words, his gaze moved from their joined hands up to Bob's breasts -- which were barely concealed by the thin cotton tank top. Chapter 3 Cathy strolled idly through the mall looking in the store windows, but her mind wasn't on the displays. She kept worrying over the situation with Bob. She was troubled about how to handle him. A part of her saw it as poetic justice that he should have to live as his own male fantasy. But he was also a victim of how society treated unattractive people. If he hadn't been shunned all his life then he might have a more realistic conception of women. At first she'd thought of him only as a dweeb and just barely tolerated him. But she learned Bob was more than just a dweeb. He was a smart, kind, generous guy. Once you got past his outer facade he was like a puppy just aching for affection. As they'd grown closer Cathy had begun to gain insight into how Bob ticked. Based on things he'd said and his general attitude Cathy knew he regarded most women, especially pretty ones, as less intelligent, good for little more than sex objects. But in reality, despite his male arrogance he was afraid of women, and possibly hated them, hated the power they had to hurt him. He envied the way everything seemed to just happen so easily for attractive women. At least that's how Cathy reasoned it would appear to Bob, but she knew there was a price to be paid for everything. In spite of his attitude toward women she'd grown to like Bob, once he loosened up enough to be himself around her. Cathy was the only woman who Bob felt comfortable with, the only woman who didn't instantly turn him into a quivering, sweaty, tongue-tied dork. Which is why she felt so offended when she learned he tried to transform her into one of the brain-dead sex objects he expressed such disdain for. She felt betrayed by him. Yet in a weird way it was almost a compliment that he'd want to give her his own version of beauty. Even though she was pissed, he was still her friend and she wanted to help him. It was a hell of a dilemma and she still hadn't resolved how she was going to deal with it. In fact, while it was true that getting clothing was a priority, the main reason she suggested this shopping expedition was to give her some time alone to think things through. She was of two minds about how to treat Bob now. It would be so satisfying to punish him. Shock him. Rub his nose in his new femininity. Maybe dress him up slutty and dump him at a biker bar. Let him deal with the nasty side of being female in a man's world with no help from her. But she also felt inclined to make things easy for him, he had enough stress just looking in a mirror without her adding to his problems. The big unknown factor in her reasoning was how long Bob would have to live as a woman before they could change him back, if they could even do so - the spell had worked once but there were no guarantees it would work again. The one thing you could rely on when dealing with the supernatural was that you couldn't really rely on anything. Plus there was an added factor of danger if they succeeded - would the demon be angry and maybe do something worse if they bothered it a second time? It might be for the best if Cathy did all she could to get Bob to accept his new womanhood and get on with his life. As a bonus, if he ever did change back to a man, he might have a better attitude towards women after having lived as one. Cathy had been careful in picking out stuff for him to wear, deciding to go low key on his wardrobe. She bought him a pair of jeans, and a rather plain cotton ribbed top from the Gap as well as some socks and a pair of Reeboks from Lady FootLocker. So far she'd resisted the urge to pick out anything that might freak him out as being too sexy or feminine. She'd also picked up a new pair of jeans for herself. She adjusted her bra strap and realized she needed a new bra, thanks to her own transformation the one she had on was pinching her something awful. She figured she'd also need to pick up some panties and a bra for Bob, no matter how weird wearing women's underwear might feel to him he couldn't be expected to wear jockey shorts on his new form. She looked at a display of casual evening wear. This store, like all the others, had a sign announcing their upcoming "Fabulous After Thanksgiving Sale!" She toyed with the notion of dragging Bob here on Friday and getting him decked out in a sexy miniskirt. Then she caught a glimpse of her own much improved reflection in the store's window. All her life she'd been a conservative dresser. A realist when it came to her looks, she never embarrassed herself by trying to be something she wasn't, preferring to go for an 'interesting' rather than a sexy look. But she'd sometimes daydreamed about having the kind of body that could wear revealing clothes and be the center of attention. Now she had the body, but old habits die hard, and she was hesitant to try anything that might be too flashy. She put the thought aside and walked on to the next storefront. In this window there was a rather daring bodysuit on display. She paused, idly wondering what it might feel like to wear something so form-fitting. "Cathy?" a man's voice broke into her thoughts, "Is that you?" She turned and saw Greg Ewing staring at her uncertainly. Greg and she had lived in the same dorm her freshman year. They shared many common interests and had become good friends. Cathy had always harbored a secret crush on him but she'd never pursued it, he had a girlfriend back home. Later, after he broke up and became available she'd been relu