VCR: Desperate Housewives free porn video

NOTE: This story is set in the VCR universe created by Dee Janes. I have her permission for the story. She also looked it over and offered some editorial help. Thanks, Dee! --------------------- THE VCR: Desperate Housewives By Desperate It was Charlie that came up with this brilliant idea. He brought in the camera, the tapes, and the girl. And he's the one that brought the damned VCR. It was January, and Hinkman had just gotten home from his all-expenses paid, three month stay at the luxurious Cook County jail. The three of us -- me, Hinkman, and Juice -- were over at Hink's place doing a little bit of celebrating. Which means we were murdering a pony keg and weighing the idea of how to take down this liquor store over in Little India. That's when Charlie Biggins came in with the girl. The idea that Charlie had a girl was enough to let us know something strange was going down. Charlie's always been a smart guy. If you listened to Charlie, you could pull most any job and get away clean, but Charlie's no looker. In fact, he was kind of an anti-looker. Five years or so back, Charlie got bit by a tick and came down with a fever of a hundred and six. He got past the fever, but when he did, all his hair fell out. I don't mean just the hair on his head, I mean all of it. His arms, legs, eyebrows, eyelashes -- even inside his nose. Bald might look cool on Vin Diesel, but it didn't work for Charlie. He looked a cue ball with eyes. He took to wrapping himself up in this coat and scarf no matter what the weather. Said he was always cold. People started calling him the "invisibald man." Not exactly a chick magnet. Charlie came through the front door without knocking and stopped only long enough to shake Hinkman's hand before he leaned back against the kitchen counter and gave us all this funny grin. "How would you guys like to be millionaires?" Right off I looked over at the girl to see if I could get a clue, because I figured if there was anything Charlie thought could make us rich, it was sure to be illegal. Not that any of us were against breaking the law -- it was only the jail thing we objected to. "Don't worry about Brenda," said Charlie. "She's part of it." The girl, Brenda, was young. Looked like a teenager, surely no more than twenty, a pretty thing, too. Pretty enough to be a model or something. She was tall, and slinky, with a tumble of dark hair and... Hell, she was a fully-equipped hottie. Way too much for Charlie. But she stood close to him while he was talking and nodded at everything he said. "You serious about millionaires?" I asked. Charlie had pulled off some big jobs, but he'd never done anything near that big. "Damn straight," said Charlie. "You interested?" "Oh hell, yeah," said Juice. He got the name Juice because people in high school used to tell him he looked like O.J. That was when O.J. was known for doing bad movies and car commercials instead of for knifing his ex. Standing up next to Charlie, Juice looked tall enough to tip off against Shaq, but that wasn't because Juice was really that big. Charlie was just that scrawny. Truth was, Juice's size was deceptive. He hated fights. He hated work. If he couldn't get things done just from intimidating people, they didn't get done. Nobody else hitched on to Charlie's plan as fast as Juice, but you could see we were all thinking about it. Hinkman tossed back what was left of his beer and smacked the mug down on the counter. "How in all the fewkin' hells we going to get away with a million dollars, hey?" he asked. Hink was nearly as big as Juice, but he was white enough to pose for a Nazi recruiting poster. Had the whole blond hair, blue eyes, square chin thing going. Despite the name and the looks, he was really Irish, and still sounded like he'd just flown in from Dublin. Like Juice, his bark was worse than his bite. He had a bum leg that required a heavy metal brace, and was forced to get around on crutches when the pain got bad. Most of our jobs, Hinkman did the driving. "Not one million," said Charlie. "Five million. You in?" Hinkman looked over at me. What with being caught in a phone scam that led to his vacation behind bars, he wasn't ready to jump into anything without some assurance that it wasn't being to be his graduation to Joliet. "What'cha you think there, Bud?" I shrugged. Charlie had always been pretty sharp about these things, but I wasn't sure I was ready to jump on his big plan. Still, it didn't hurt to hear him out. "What's the deal?" Charlie smiled and rubbed his hands together. "First off, you're going to have to trust me, because this is going to get a little weird." He and the girl went out to Charlie's car and came back with a couple of cardboard boxes. The one the girl was carrying was open, and I could see that it had a video camera inside, along with some tapes and a heap of clothing. Whatever was in the box that Charlie was carrying, it had to be heavy. By the time he plunked the thing on Hinkman's kitchen table, beads of sweat were rolling down his forehead and his arms were looking kind of shaky. "Okay, Brenda, let's have the camera." Charlie took the video camera from the girl, and slipped one of the tapes inside. "First thing we do is get everyone on film." You might as well have suggested that we start off by slitting our throats. For the next five minutes, there was so much yelling that it's not worth writing down. Just take it from me that nobody cared much for this idea. I waited till most of the cussing has faded before I pitched in my bit. "You want us to put our faces on film?" I looked at Charlie and shook my head. "What's your plan, Charlie? You think there's money inside the lockup?" "We're not going to get locked up," he said. "Nobody's going to see this tape but us." "Then what's the point?" I asked. "We'll need it later," said Charlie. "You'll see." It took another couple of minutes of spitting and shouting, but after that we all went along with this part. One at a time, we lined up while Charlie and his new little chippie shot a couple of minutes of tape. Juice mugged for the camera. Hinkman did a little turn from side to side while they were filming, all the while pretending to hold up a number. While Brenda was doing the taping, I spent my time ogling Brenda. There was something familiar about the girl, like I'd seen her before. But if I'd seen any girl this hot around town, surely I would have remembered. Then it was my turn. I have to admit, I had a hard time standing still in front of that camera. One of things that had always been in my favor when it came to scamming was that I was so average. Average height. Medium weight. Hair kind of brown. Eyes kind of gray. More than once, I had stood in the crowd while someone described me to the police and they hadn't even noticed that I was there. So getting my Joe Average mug recorded on tape seemed like a poor idea. If it hadn't been for the promise of all those zeroes, I wouldn't have gone along with it. Once the three of us has lined up for our minute or two of fame, I thought this part of Charlie's weird plan was over. I was a bit surprised when the girl pushed the camera over to Charlie and told him to film her. "Why?" he asked. "Can't you just use the same tape you did last time?" Brenda stepped over into the empty space where the rest of us had taken our turn and stood there while Charlie ran the camera. "I don't want to take a chance," she said. "If I time it wrong, I could end up looking like that girl with the duck lips. Or Pacey." None of this made a lot of sense to me at the time. "Pacey?" "I'll explain later." Charlie finished taping the girl then nodded. "All right," he said. "The next step needs a TV." Hinkman was well equipped on that front. He had a big plasma screen that had taken a walk off the back of a truck. Even while he'd been inside, Juice and I had made stops by Hink's place every Sunday to catch the Bears. While we were all moving toward the screen, Charlie knocked the top off the second cardboard box, reached inside, and came out with a metal something about two feet across and almost a foot thick. "What's that ugly lump?" asked Juice. "It's a VCR," said Charlie. The box didn't look like any VCR I'd ever seen. It didn't have any display, not even the blinking LED 12:00 that had been on every recorder from day one. The metal the thing was made from looked more like stainless steel than the cheap crap they hang on consumer electronics. From the way Charlie was carrying it, the metal might have been thick enough to stop a tank shell. He lugged it across the floor and sat it down on the carpet in front of Hinkman's TV. Without asking permission, he started fishing around behind the set. "Hey," said Hinkman. "Be like damn careful back there." Hink was very protective of the set. "Don't worry," said Charlie. "I'm just going to get this hooked up, and then we'll watch a little film." After a few seconds behind the set, he came out with a trio of wires and jammed them into the back of the VCR. "Okay now. Everyone sit down where you can see the screen." "I never pulled no job what come with visual aides," said Hinkman. He and Juice jammed in together on the couch. I dropped into a recliner that was broken so that it couldn't actually recline. That was all the seating that Hink's small front room usually allowed, but Charlie dragged two more chairs in from the kitchen and he and Brenda sat down behind the rest of us. "What the hell is this?" asked Juice. "We going to watch ourselves on TV?" "Not exactly," said Charlie. "Just hang on." He hopped down from his chair long enough to push the button on the front of the VCR, and then hustled back to his seat. "Just watch the screen." There was a flicker on the TV, then the screen started showing a scene with five women in some kind of suburban setting. It took me a moment to recognize one of the women as the babe who had been on the old Superman show. "What's this?" I asked. "Depserate Housewives," said Hink. He pointed at one women, a redhead with a cat-who-ate-the-canary expression. "See that fine one there? She's Bree. She..." about that time, he realized we were all looking at him and shrugged. "Hey now, there's not much to do at Cook but watch the telly. Besides, these women are grand fluff. I been watching this since it started." "But why are we watching it now?" said Juice. "When are you going to explain about this big plan of yours?" "Keep watching," said Charlie, "and I'll tell you all about it." On the screen, the women were clearly having some kind of heated argument, though there was no sound. Hink was right -- they were a hot collection. A couple of them seemed a little old for me, probably on the high side of 40, meaning a few years my senior, but there wasn't one you'd want to kick out of bed -- especially this hot little Latina. "All right," Charlie said from behind us. "Here's the plan. We're going to steal the transfer from the federal reserve bank." Right about the time he started talking, I would have sworn I heard the sound of a zipper being opened, but what he said was too crazy to pay much attention to anything else. "Are you..." I started to turn around. "Eyes on the screen!" said Charlie. "And no. I'm not crazy." "Right," said Hinkman. "You're fewkin' nuts. That's out of our league, like. They use three trucks, a different schedule every week, a whole..." "It happens that I know just when they're making the move," said Charlie. "And which truck has the transfer. I have an inside... man, let's say." "But Charlie man," said Hinkman. "Even if you know where the money is going to be, you still got to make them give it to you." "That's right." "That there's a gun job." "Absolutely," said Charlie. There was something weird with his voice, like he was having trouble breathing. "We all go in armed." "Uh uh," said Hinkman. "No way. You get yourself caught in armed robbery, and it's Federal pen for sure. Probably bleedin' life. They'd like decide I was some IRA terrorist and bottle me up at Guantanimo." "What if I could promise... promise you... that no one would ever recognize you?" "How can you do that?" "Trust me," said Charlie. "I can guarantee... that... that...ahhh." Charlie sounded so weird, that I just had to turn around. What I saw was a shocker. Brenda, that hot teenybopper babe, was kneeling on the floor in front of Charlie's chair. While we were all watching the TV, she was giving him a quick BJ! "What in holy hell do you think you're..." I started. But that's as far as I got. Right then, Charlie jerked his head back and threw his mouth open. I could tell that Brenda had hit the magic button. Then there was a bright flash -- like someone snapping a dozen pictures all at once -- and something hit me like a fist in the back. I tried to turn, but instead I sank down, and down, and down into darkness. When I opened my eyes again, I was still sitting in the chair in Hinkman's living room, and the TV was still running. Only now there was a woman standing in front of the television and screaming. She was pretty, maybe even beautiful. A tiny thing. Brown eyes, olive skin. Skinny and surely no more than a few inches over five feet. From her long fall of dark hair, to her smooth bare thighs she looked completely edible. But at the moment what she mainly looked was terrified. While she was screaming, she pulled at her long hair for a few moments. Then she squeezed her boobs through her shirt. Then she shoved both hands between her legs. "Oh fewkin' shit," she said. "Oh fewkin' God damn." She swayed on her feet, and her golden skin turned pale. That's when I noticed the strangest thing. She had a pair of pants tangled around her feet, and on her right leg was a metal brace that looked way too big. "Are you all right?" I said. Only the voice that came out of my mouth didn't sound like my voice at all. I started to get a really, really bad feeling. I had been wearing a plain blue cotton work shirt when I came in. I looked down and saw that I was still wearing the shirt, only there was something new inside. I had breasts. Boobs. Tits. And from the looks of them, they were not small. I raised up a hand and touched one. Definitely real. Definitely warm. Definitely soft. Definitely attached to me. Which meant that I had definitely sprung a leak in the head. "This can't be real," I said as I copped a feel of my own boobs. I saw the material of the shirt tent up as the nipples tightened. While I was noticing that, I noticed that the fingers doing the groping were women's fingers. Suddenly all the stuff the dark-haired girl had been screaming made sense. I looked at her again. This time I recognized her from the show we had just been watching. And I recognized that the flannel shirt draped over her narrow shoulders went with the hardware on her leg. "Hink?" I said. "Is that you?" She looked at me with wild brown eyes. "Bloody fewkin' hell, I don't know. No. I mean, yes. I mean.... what happened to me? Who are you?" "I'm Bud," I said. Hinkman's pretty new eyes went even wider. "No shit?" "Nope." I leaned forward in the chair. As I did, a wave of coppery hair came down around my face. I pushed it out of the way and looked over to one side. There was a woman still slumped on the couch. This one I recognized as Lois Lane from the old Superman show. She was practically swimming in an oversized football shirt and crumpled jeans. "That must be Juice," I said. I noticed a pair of shoes on the floor in front of the couch. They must have fallen right of the female Juice's tiny feet. "And I'm Charlie," said a voice from behind me. I twisted round in the chair and saw that there were two blond women behind me. The prettier of the pair was sitting on the floor, holding a length of blond curls out where she could see it. The second blond woman was seated in a chair. She had hair that didn't quite reach her shoulders and firm, classic features. I put her age at mid-40's. She wasn't what I would have called pretty, but she was attractive, and would have looked quite dignified, except for the fact that her pants were unzipped and pulled down halfway to her knees. "Charlie?" The woman nodded. "Looks like we all made it." He stood, and I had a peek at his thin thighs -- and what was between them -- before he tugged up the pants and zipped them closed. Charley's jeans fit his new frame surprisingly well, except that they were too short. They ended several inches above his ankles. His polo shirt was short too. It left a good strip of midriff exposed. "As soon as Juice comes around, we'll talk about the next step." "Next step?" I said. What was the next step after mass insanity? "You knew this was going to happen?" "Of course. It's all part of the plan." "Plan?" said Hinkman. "I've got my own knockers. I'm a fewkin bird!" Charlie laughed. "We all are," he said. "Don't worry. It's only temporary." I wanted to ask him more, but curiosity got the better of me. Carefully, I eased myself out of the chair and stood. My pants weren't unzipped, but they were loose. They slipped down to rest much lower on my hips than normal. Even so, they were barely long enough for my legs. As far as I could tell, I was about as tall as usual -- five nine or five ten. I was almost a head taller than Hink, which was quite a switch. How my height was distributed had changed. My shirt was plenty long. Even with breasts tenting it out, it stretched halfway to my knees, a lot more of me was legs than it had been. At the first step, I nearly fell. My balance was wrong, my perspective was off, and my shoes were way too big. My boobs didn't so much bounce as sway from side to side. "This isn't possible," I said, though even the voice I used to say the words made a pretty good argument that it was possible. "That's right," said Hinkman. He nodded quickly. "Not damn possible. You can't turn people into somebody else." "Obviously, you can," said Charlie. He pulled out the front of his shirt and looked down the open neck. "Pretty interesting, huh?" On the couch, Juice started to stir. He moaned a little, and raised his head. For a second he just blinked, then he looked at Hinkman and smiled. "Hey, now honey when did..." He stopped and put a hand to his throat. Then he leaped to his feet. His hands went everywhere at once, touching at his legs and breasts and face and then the void between his legs. I thought he was going to join Hinkman in testing his ability to scream. Instead, he looked over at me with eyes so wide I was surprised they didn't fall out of his face. "I've turned into a white chick," he said. Then he fell back to the couch, out cold. "Juice!" I stepped out of my shoes and hurried to the couch. As I did, I was all too aware of my boobs doing the hula under my shirt. "Juice?" I took him by one incredibly skinny arm and gave him a shake. No dice. He was out of it. "Don't worry," said Charlie. "He'll be all right." "How do you know?" said Hinkman. Charlie let go of his shirt and ran a hand through his straight blond hair. "I know because I spent most of yesterday looking like that babe from the poker show." "You turned yourself into some little scrubber before?" said Hink. He was still so agitated that he couldn't stand still, but at least he wasn't screaming. "That's right. And I turned back." Hinkman was across the floor in a flash, his flannel shirt flapping around his bare and shapely ass. The brace on his leg rattled so much it sounded like a car accident. He grabbed Charlie by the front of his blue shirt. "You turn me back! You turn me back right now or I'll--" Charlie shoved him away. "You'll what, little girl?" He tossed back his new blond mane and grinned. Though his new body was only medium height, Charlie was quite a bit bigger than the suddenly petite Hinkman. "You listen to me, or I might just leave you in there." Hinkman's mouth fell open. He looked petty when he was scared. Hell, in that body, he would have looked pretty with any expression. "You wouldn't really leave me like this." "Don't worry," said Charlie. "Two hours from now, we pull the job, and an hour after that you'll be back in your own ugly skin and a million dollars richer." "You promise?" Hinkman's voice was such a frightened little squeak that I almost laughed, but things were a lot more funny weird than funny ha ha. "Six o'clock tonight, you'll give your own mug and six figures in cash." Charlie went back over to the cardboard box and started digging through the contents. "In the meantime," he said over his shoulder, "why don't you get out of that brace? You certainly don't need it at the moment." This idea seemed to stun Hinkman more than the idea that he'd turned into a woman. He stood there completely frozen for several seconds before he clanked over to sit in the chair I had just vacated and started working the complex set of latches that ran along both sides of the brace. While he was doing that, I wandered down the hall to the bathroom, stood in front of the sink, and had a good look. Staring back at me from the mirror was the red head from the TV show. The face looked a little older and a little less glamorous than on the screen. It took me a second to realize that was because I wasn't wearing any makeup. Even so, the woman in the mirror was pretty, with distinct, cat-like features and a mischievous look to the eyes. There was something about the shape of the eyes and the mouth that made you think this woman had just gotten away with something. The straight red hair fell thick and shiny several inches past my shoulders. I didn't think my usual walking through a crowd without being noticed was going to happen as long as I was wearing this face. And there was a lot more to the package than a face. I looked down at the breasts tenting out my shirt. I thought about doing what Charlie had done and peeking down the front, but then grabbed the bottom of the shirt and lifted it up instead. In the mirror, it was like a scene from "Girls Gone Wild." The breasts were creamy pale and full, not as pert as a teenager's, but definitely not saggy. The almost milk-white globes were topped by nipples red as fresh strawberries. "You got the nicest set," said a voice at my back. I pulled the shirt down quickly and turned around to see the tall blond woman smiling at me from the door. "You're Brenda?" "That's right," she said, "and don't be embarrassed. We're all girls here. We've all got the same equipment." She stepped over beside me and gave her face a critical examination in the mirror. "Hmmm. Pretty, but I liked the other body better." Just then, I finally realized where I'd seen her face before -- the other one, not the blond from Desperate Housewives. "You were Joey," I said, "from Dawson's Creek." "Yeah, that's right." "Didn't anyone notice you walking around out there? Didn't anyone realize who you were -- I mean, who you looked like." She brushed the long golden tresses away from her face. "No one ever notices," she said. "I guess they just don't expect to meet a television star walking down the street." From the way she talked, it was clear she had some experience with this. "Was Joey the first body you tried?" "Naw, I did that girl from Buffy, but she was too short." She smiled at the face in the mirror and stretched up on tiptoe. "I like being tall." "How does this thing work?" I asked her. "What kind--" "I don't know." "But you--" She stopped me with a shrug. "I know what it does," she said. "I don't know how it does it." "Is it quantum mechanics? Nanotechnology?" Another shrug. "For all I know, the thing's full of magic beans." Before I could ask more, Charlie called to us from the front room. Brenda and I went back and found that Juice was back in the land of the conscious, though from the look on his sultry borrowed face, I wasn't too sure he was going to stay there. "I'm a white chick," he said. "We know," said Charlie. "We can see that." "Hey Bud," Hinkman called. "Look at me legs!" It was a pleasure to look at his legs. Hinkman had shed not only his brace, but his pants. His new body might be petite, but his legs were tan and sleek and absolutely beautiful. He jumped up and down a few times to show me these legs in action. At each leap, I got a clear view of his smooth thighs and a quick beaver shot. His small breasts bobbed energetically. Watching him, I could feel my nipples tighten till they felt as hard as rocks. Suddenly, Hink bounced over to me, did a spin around that was almost like a ballet move, and then, before I could think to move away, he reached around me and grabbed my ass with both hands. "My you're a grand bit of fluff. Let us have a fewk, hey?" Until I felt those slim fingers squeezing into my behind, I didn't realize just how much hind I had back there. I should have jerked away, but the feeling of hands gripping my new butt was strangely erotic. And the woman in front of me was painfully beautiful, no matter whose mind she had inside her lovely head. Before I could think to do anything, she stood on tiptoe and pressed her generous lips against my surprised mouth. The tight little body came forward, and I could feel small, firm breasts pressing against my ribs while my larger pair rode just above. A bright heat flared between my legs, and quickly spread along my thighs and out over my skin. You know how most of the time you're unaware of nine tenths of your body? Or sometimes ninety-nine percent? Well, at that moment I was suddenly aware of every single inch. I could feel the way the copper hair lay against my neck, and how my feet sank into the carpet. That heat between my legs began to grow. I felt loose, like something-- "Stow it!" shouted Charlie. "You two want to play Lesbian, you can do it when you get back." The smaller woman let me go and I fell back gasping. "Why'd you do that?" Hinkman shrugged. "When am I getting another chance, hey?" From across the room, Juice spoke up. "You come over here," he said. "I'll give you some loving." Even while he was talking, I saw that he was rubbing his own breasts through the baggy football jersey. Charlie mumbled in disgust. "Put you idiots in these bodies for ten minutes, and already you're acting like brainless sluts. Can't you stop playing with your titties long enough to make one million dollars each?" I'm not sure it was Charlie's complaint, or the way Brenda started laughing, but we all lined up long enough to listen to Charlie's plan. Forty minutes later, I knocked on the door of the bathroom. "Brenda?" "Come on in," she said. ""It's your turn." She was waiting for me by the sink, where she had rolled out a collection of cosmetics and little female torture devices. "Okay," she said. "Off with the clothes." I hesitated just a moment, but there was no point in protesting. By this time, I had already agreed to the plan. I peeled my shirt up and over my head, then opened my pants and let the fall to the floor. Looking down was like exploring an alien country. All of me was so pale and smooth and so obviously female. The triangle of hair between my thighs was just as red as the hair on my head. My navel looked different -- more oval and shallow than I was used to. With everything that was different, you'd think that would be a minor thing, but seeing that alien bellybutton on the stretch of smooth, milky midriff made me shiver. Brenda took a light green bra from a small stack of clothes and tossed it to me. "Put this on." She let me fumble with it for a few seconds before she laughed and grabbed it back from my hands. "All you guys are so fast to get them off, you'd think you'd have some clue about putting them on." She guided my arms through the straps, gave my boobs a shove to seat them in the cups, the spun me around to fasten the closure behind my back. When she was done, the bra shoved my breasts together and forced them up. The amount of cleavage generated was literally breathtaking, both because the view from my perspective nearly made me faint, and because the elastic straps were so snug I hard a hard time inflating my lungs. "This thing is awfully tight," I said. "It's a wonder bra. You got the biggest boobs, so we got to show them off." "Mine can't be biggest." I took hold of my new assets and shifted them around a little, trying to find a little room in the bra. "Juice is the Lois Lane woman. She's got world famous tits." Brenda gave my breasts a critical inspection and nodded. "Teri Hatcher is only a B cup. Yours are bigger." "Who?" "Lois Lane. She's a 34-B. You're a C cup." I wasn't up on women's fashions, but like most guys, I had a pretty good idea of the importance of those first four letters of the alphabet and what they represented when it came to women's chests. To learn that you had bigger boobs than the woman you'd lusted over -- that was just too damn strange. "Really? Lois Lane is only a B?" "It's amazing what you can find out on the Internet," she said. "That's how we figured out all the sizes." She handed over a pair of green panties that matched the bra. "Here you go. Size six." I slid my smooth legs into the panties and pulled them up. The way they hugged against my butt and pressed in tight between my legs was entirely different from the feeling of any underwear I had ever worn before. "Okay, come on over here and let me do your face and hair," said Brenda. She took me by the hand and tugged me toward the sink. "Are you sure this part is necessary?" I asked as I followed her reluctantly across the room. "All part of the plan." She sat me down on a chair in front of the mirror and studied my borrowed face. "You're really pretty. This is going to be fun." "Not as pretty as you," I said. I could vaguely recall that the body she was wearing belonged to some actress who had been on one of those old prime time soaps. I couldn't remember the name of the actress or the show, but she was severely pretty. "Yeah?" said Brenda. She stopped looking at me for a moment and gave her own face a good stare in the mirror. "I guess this one is pretty decent." "You going to keep it after we finish the job?" She shook her head. "Too old. I'm probably going back to Joey." She turned her attention back to my face. "Sit still, and let me work." I tried not to wiggle as Brenda smeared something across my face, rubbed more stuff onto my cheeks, and attacked my red hair with a brush. It was hard not so shiver, though. Sitting there in just bra and panties, I got chilly. I think my skin was a lot more sensitive to cold than it had ever been before. Maybe that hair on male skin is actually good for something after all. Brenda made me pucker up as she applied lipstick to my mouth. Then she nodded. "Take a look." I turned to look in the mirror. Staring back at me was a beautiful woman with her mouth hanging open. Brenda had styled my hair into twin wings of scarlet and accented my eyes with green shade. Spots of red brightened my pale cheeks and my lips were redder than sin. "Wow." "Now let's get you dressed." Brenda pulled out a gown patterned in green and gold. Part of me wanted to complain about wearing a dress, but really, when you're already wearing makeup, and a bra -- and breasts -- why complain about a dress? When Brenda had me wrapped in the little green number, my new boobs were barely inside with the rest of me. The dress left my shoulders bare and dipped down to expose every possible inch of cleavage. My long legs were encased in hose only a shade or two darker than my milky skin, and my feet were uncomfortably wedged in a pair of heels that were, thankfully, not too tall. "Just enough to give your ass some extra gas," said Brenda. She gave me a final exam, and sent me out to join the others. Wobbling my way down the hall, I had to bite my tongue to keep from going into hysterical laughter. The whole situation was seeming more and more surreal. Juice had passed out when he woke up and found out he'd been turned into a woman. I got past that part, but at every moment things seemed crazier and crazier. I felt like Alice through the looking glass. In the living room were three beautiful babes. Juice was tucked into a tight black number that covered his top only with a tangle of black lace. He might have only B sized boobs, but they looked pretty damned good. He must gave thought so too, because he kept squeezing them. Juice was so caught up in playing with his tits; I don't even think he noticed when I came in. Hinkman was sitting on the couch in a screaming red dress slit up nearly to his waist. It would have looked classy except that he was sitting with his legs splayed out in from of him and had a mug of beer in one hand. As I came in, he turned my way and let out a loud whistle. "Look at those diddies. You've got cannons there, Bud." I glanced down at my gaping cleavage and fought off an effort to join Juice in a self breast exam. "Yeah, they're something." Charlie stepped up to the front of the room and clapped his hands. "All right," he said. "Are we all ready to go?" Unlike the rest of us, Charlie was still wearing pants and a shirt. Only the pants were a stretchy black material that looked almost painted on and the blue top was cut down to his navel. It was clear that his smallish breasts were not constrained by a bra. Charlie might not have the body of a little hottie, like Hinkman, but he did look good, maybe even beautiful. With Charlie in the lead, the four of us hustled out to the car. If anyone in Hink's neighborhood spotted us, they would have gotten an eye full, but we made it to Charlie's aging Buick without. Charlie drove, with Juice in the shotgun seat. I shared the back seat with Hinkman. No sooner were we in motion, than I felt Hinkman's hand on mine. "Try this, hey," he said. Then he lifted my hand and pressed it right on his chest. I could feel the incredibly firm little breast beneath my fingers and could feel the hard nipple even though his dress. "When we finish this here gig," said Charlie, "we're going to have some fun." The idea sounded better to me than I really wanted to admit. "Don't you want to get your own body back?" "You mean the one with the banjanxed leg?" Hink shook his head. Brenda had coated his full lips with dark red and his smile looked incredible. "I'm never going back in there. I'm picking me something else." I wasn't sure what to say, but I never got a chance to reply. Charlie swerved the car into a small parking lot, pulled around behind an old hardware store, and skidded to a stop. "Time to switch cars," he said. Waiting in the lot were two cars. One was a new Lexus sedan, the other a little BMW Roadster. Charlie had stolen both cars the night before - - while wearing the body of the girl from the poker show -- and positioned them here to serve the next step in his plan. You had to hand it to Charlie, he kept track of the details. "Okay," he said as we piled out of the Buick. "Gabrielle and Susan in the Beemer. Bree, you're with me." We all just looked at him. "Who?" I asked. Charlie sighed. "We can't use our real names. From here on out, you'll go by the names of your characters." He pointed at each of us in turn. " Juice, you're Susan. Hink, Gabrielle. Bud, your name is Bree. And if you need me, call me Lynette. Got it?" Hinkman and I nodded. Juice was still focused on his boobs. Hink slid behind the wheel of the BMW and lowered the top. Charlie and I piled into the Lexus.. I drove, but not without a little trouble. When I first got in, my boobs were pressed against the wheel. It took a lot of adjusting to get comfortable. Charlie consulted a slender silver watch on his wrist. "Okay, Bree," he said. "Let's go get our money." The timing was perfect. We pulled out of the lot just as a tan and black armored car came around the corner. Up until this point, we had been trying to hide, but now it was time to get noticed. Hink pulled in front of the bank vehicle and gave a wave. Charlie and I pulled up behind the truck. For about a block, we paced the larger vehicle. Then Hink suddenly slammed the brakes and came to a halt in front of the truck. The brake lights flared as the armored vehicle came to a halt. We stopped right behind them. "Be ready," said Charlie. I knew how guards on trucks like this were briefed. They'd be paying close attention to the little convertible, worried that it was some kind of trap. Only they weren't expecting this. Hinkman pushed open the door and stuck one gorgeous leg out of the car. Slowly, he put out the other leg, then he climbed out, and turned around to face the truck. Even from where we were sitting, I could see the devilish smile on Hink's beautiful new face. A moment later, Juice spilled out the other side. He was clumsy, and barefooted -- somewhere along the way, he'd lost the black pumps Brenda had provided. It didn't matter much, because no one would be looking at Juice's feet. Sometime in the last couple of minutes, he had managed to turn his off the shoulder black dress into an off the whole top of his body dress by ripping away the lace. B Cup or not, old Lois looked pretty damned impressive standing there in the sunshine. "Damn," said Charlie. "Our Susan's lost it. Come on, Bree. Let's make this fast. And don't forget your purse." "Right... uh... Lynette." I grabbed for one of the two black purses Charlie had left between the front seats. From the solid weight of the purse, there was no doubt about the contents. Together, Charlie and I exited from opposite sides of the car. Charlie did a pretty good strut as he walked toward the back of the truck. I had been instructed to give my hips a sexy wiggle, but now that we were down to it, I was too nervous to do much more than stumble a few steps from the car. If my hips did any wiggling, it was only what came naturally. "Charlie..." I whispered. "Lynette. And smile. Remember to smile." I smiled toward the smoked glass windows at the back of the truck. "Lynette, sorry. What if they don't open up?" "They will as soon as they recognize us." "But Brenda said she went around town looking like Joey and no one recognized her." "That's because Brenda was alone," said Charlie. "Besides, she took a body off a show that was on a minor network and that's been off the air for years. We've got the bodies of the four hottest women on the hottest?" He was interrupted by the sound of a metal latch moving. A moment later, the door opened a crack and a man wearing the dark brimmed hat of a security guard looked out. "Holy shit... I mean, pardon my French, ladies. But aren't you those TV women?" He was a older guy, with gray hair showing from under his cap. "That Wives show?" "That's right," said Charlie. He flashed a big smile. "We're here to surprise you boys." "Surprise us?" the guard was clearly confused. "This run you're making isn't real," explained Charlie. "It's all been staged." "Staged?" The man leaned out of the vehicle. He looked at Charlie, then over at me. His eyes went down to my chest, came back to my face, then returned to my boobs like they were magnetic. "I don't get it." "The money in this run is fake," said Charlie. "This is all part of a gag for TV. Come on down and we'll explain." The man glanced at Charlie, but his gaze went quickly back to my cleavage. "Uh, but we..." I heard a door open at the front of the truck as the guards up front got out for a closer look at Hink and Juice. So far, everything was going just how Charlie had planned it. "You need to be nicer," Charlie whispered under his breath. "Nicer?" "Show off your tits. Smile. Get that guard over here." "Oh, right." My lips felt greasy from the lipstick that Brenda had applied, but I did my best to smile. And I leaned forward so far that my boobs ? which were already straining at the seam ? nearly exploded from the dress. "Hi!" I called to the guard. "Don't you want to be in the show?" The guard's eyes bugged out of his head as he looked at me. "Your show?" From around front, I heard someone do a pretty good job of a girlish giggle, and one of the guards up there joined in the laughter. Sounded like the peep show at the front of the car was a winner. "Just come on down and smile for the camera," said Charlie. "We'll explain everything." The guard didn't move for a second. Finally, he glanced back inside the truck and nodded, turned, and stepped onto the blacktop. I should have known something was wrong right then, the second that guy glanced back, but I didn't. I was just so relieved that everything was going along with Charlie's script. The guard was literally licking his lips as he came my way. "I got to say, you girls are better looking in person than you are on TV." He squinted at our car, then looked around. "Where are the cameras?" "They're hidden," said Charlie. "But I've got a handheld camera right here." He flipped open his purse, reached in, and pulled out a 9mm pistol. The guard's mouth dropped open. "What's that?" "Just what it looks like." Charlie looked at me. "Bree? Where's yours?" "Oh, right." I fumbled for a moment before I could get the latch open on the purse. The gun felt heavy in my hand. Charlie raised his voice and called out toward the front of the armored truck. "Gabrielle. You and Susan get the driver out of the way." "What's going on here?" asked the guard. "You said this was a show." "It is," said Charlie. "And you're the star." He waved the end of the pistol toward a parking lot beside the road. "You go over there and wait. You'll see." The guard clenched his teeth and shook his head. "No, I'm not leaving the truck. You girls may be famous, but there's something not right going on." Charlie thumbed the action at the back of the pistol. "If you don't move, I'm going to?" There was the explosive bang of a gunshot. I jumped, and looked toward the guard, waiting for the man to fall. But it wasn't the guard who hit the ground, it was Charlie. The gun fell from his hand and clattered on the blacktop. There was a dark stain spreading across his shirt. There was blood in his new blond hair. I barely had time to register that there was someone else coming out of the armored truck before a second bullet snapped past me so close I could feel the heat against my leg. I dropped the gun I was carrying without thinking and dashed back for the car. By the time I got inside, a third shot had turned the windshield into a spider web of cracks. Charlie was sprawled completely on the street. A female guard was coming out of the back of the truck with a gun raised to shoot again, and even the guard who had gotten out of the truck was reaching for his own weapon. I turned the key, shifted into drive, and hit the gas all in one motion. I barely avoided hitting Charlie's body as I shot around the stopped truck. Up front, I could see that Hink was already in the convertible. Juice was still standing between two guards, who didn't seem to know whether to shot him or kiss him. As I went past, Hink gunned the convertible and fell in behind me. Up until that moment, it had all felt like some kind of weird dream. Waking up in a woman's body, letting Brenda dress me up, going out to charm an armored car out of millions of dollars. Every single bit of it was crazy. None of it had seemed completely real. Until I was skidding out into Commercial Avenue, and trying to make the turn at 12th without smacking into a Civic, and there was red hair in my face, and a bra that wouldn't let me breath, and that bullet had done more than come close to my leg, because there was something warm and wet flowing down the outside of my right leg. The only thought I had was that I had to get back in my own skin. If I could just be me again, then maybe this craziness would never have happened. I headed straight for Hinkman's house and skidded to a stop at the curb out front. It was only then that I realized Hink was no longer behind me. In the distance, I could hear sirens, but I didn?t know if they were heading for me, chasing Hinkman, or for something completely unrelated. I kicked the stupid shoes off my feet and sprinted for the door with my boobs bouncing like basketballs. Brenda was shocked to see me. "What happened?" I had to breathe for awhile before I could speak, and when I did manage to get out some words, they came in a frightened voice I would never have recognized as mine. "Charlie got shot. There was another guard in the truck, one he didn't know about. Charlie... I think he's... he's... dead." Suddenly it felt very hard to breath. I started panting, then choking. "Calm down." Brenda put her arms around me and pulled me in a tight hug. "Calm down. What about the rest of them?" "I think... Hinkman got away. I... don't know about Juice." I managed to get my breathing under control. I ran a hand across my face and my fingers came back with multicolor streaks of makeup. Brenda took the whole thing a lot better than I was. "Damn," she said. "Charlie said this would be easy, but I never did believe him." I pulled away from her. "We've got to hurry." "Hurry?" "I drove the car back here," I said. "It won't take long before the police find us. How do we get back into the right bodies?" The idea of the police seemed to upset Brenda a lot more than the idea of Charlie being dead. "It's the VCR. We have to watch the movie that has our own face on it and then... pleasure ourselves." "What?" "You have to reach it," she said. "You know? Orgasm? The big O? That's how the thing works." "That's crazy!" "I didn't build the damn thing, I just found it. Whoever you're watching when you get your rocks off, that's who you turn into. So I'll put in the tape we made, and we can be back in our own heads as fast as we can work our fingers." She started toward the living room, and I came right behind. Brenda stopped me at the door. "One at a time," she said. "How come?" "You saw how it was when I did for Charlie. If one person reaches it, everybody in the room changes. You wait out here while I get the face I want. Then it's your turn." She closed the door in my face. I waited in the kitchen while Brenda did her thing. The bullet had done no more than crease my leg, and the bleeding down there seemed to have been stopped, but the trail of crimson looked pretty shocking against the milky skin of my bare legs. I stood there shivering, wishing that this was all just a bad dream, but not believing it. Twice while I was waiting, I heard sirens that sounded like they were pretty close. I thought about running out the back door, then realized that a 40 year old woman with blazing red hair and her boobs hefted up by a WonderBra would be pretty damn easy to spot. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, I heard a loud crack from the living room. Remembering how things had happened the first time, I figured this was the VCR doing its thing. I couldn't resist going to the door and taking a peek. Sure enough, there was a naked woman sprawled across Hinkman's couch. Only it wasn't the woman I expected. I went over to her. This woman was slender, with short dark hair and beautiful long legs. Hell, she was beautiful everywhere. If I hadn't been wearing a dress and bleeding from one leg, I might have stood there and stared at her for awhile, but I shook her by the shoulder instead. "Brenda?" Her eyes opened instantly. The woman's eyes were especially striking, so dark they looked black, and accented by sharply arched brows. Drop dead beautiful. The woman looked down and ran her hands along her sides. "I guess it worked again." "Who are you?" "I had a tape of the old show 'Sisters'," she said. She stood up and stretched, which was enough to get mind off the pain in my leg. "I'm Sela Ward, only younger." "You look great." "Thanks." She gathered up the clothes scattered around the couch. "All right. Your turn. The tape you want is on top of the TV." It took me only a few moments to get the tape started. A few more minutes passed while I struggled out of the dress and panties. And a few more minutes while I fought my way out of the bra. When the damn thing came off, you could almost hear my breasts sigh in relief. I lay down on the couch across from the TV and realized I had two problems. One, the VCR didn't have a remote, so I had to get up and advance it to the start of my time on the screen. Second, I didn't know what to do with my parts. I had a good basic idea of what I woman did to masturbate, but I had zero first hand experience. I pt my hand down there and started feeling around in the patch of red fur until I located a spot that seemed particularly sensitive. Okay, there's the clitoris. Then I moved it a half inch back and found a spot that was really, really sensitive. Revise the first statement: that has to be the clitoris. I rubbed it with the tip of my index finger, being careful not to dig the long nails into the tender skin. At first, I was afraid it wasn't going to work. But after a moment, the sensitivity changed from a kind of ticklish feeling to a hey don't stop that feeling. I took my free left hand and grabbed at a boob. The bright red nipple tightened and I rolled it between my fingers. "Wow," I breathed. That felt?well, good was not the word. Extremely different. Interesting. Oh hell, great. I was just starting to really go to town when my time on the tape ended and it started in on Brenda, in her Joey body, turning in front of the camera. I had to get up, run to the VCR a minute, and run back to the couch. I plopped back onto the cushions and got my hands back into the game. By this time, I was warmed up enough that my hips started to thrust up and down. I felt warm moisture as my fingers slipped past the tingling clitoris and across the top of the vagina. Deep down at the base of my spine, I felt something gathering. Tingles spread across my skin and my back curved as my pelvis rose to press against my hand. My fingers moved faster and faster. The hand on my breast squeezed harder. That spot on my spine turned into liquid fire. I threw back my head, and my breathing stopped entirely. A sharp wave of contraction squeezed at my middle. Just then, I heard a voice from the TV saying. "I don't want to take a chance. If I time it wrong, I could end up looking like that girl with the duck lips." Then there was a sharp crack, and I passed out. When I woke up, Brenda was gone. So was the VCR. So was the dress I had been wearing, and the two boxes that Charlie had brought into the house. Brenda had left me a pair of jeans, some underwear, and a T- shirt. Which was good, because I was sure none of my stuff would ever fit me. I got off the couch, made my way to the bathroom, and flipped on the lights. Looking back from the mirror was the cute girl from Dawson's Creek. Joey. Maybe it was because there had been too many shocks that day to get excited about another. Maybe I was in shock. I don't know. I do know that I went back to the living room, got dressed, and left the house like turning into a teenage girl was the most natural thing in the world. That was six months ago. In retrospect, turning into Joey might not have been natural, but it turned out to be mostly a good thing. First off, I had gotten nearly twenty years younger. True, I was a girl, but it wasn't like I had done that great a job at being a guy. I was a nobody. A professional nobody. The face I was wearing now was never going to disappear into a crowd. I used my contacts and the little money I had to set myself up with new identification. I got a job as a waitress. Then someone spotted me and asked me to be a hostess at a nicer place. I even got a modeling job. Nothing big, just a little catalog shot. But it was enough money to get me started at community college. If I make it through this year, I'm going to try for a full time school next fall. I have no idea what happened to Hinkman. I never saw him, or heard anything about him being caught. Maybe he found Brenda and got her to change him with the VCR. Maybe he enjoyed his new legs too much to change back. I have no idea. As for Juice, he got caught. At first it seemed like he was going to end up in prison, but after a few days, they decided to send him to a mental hospital instead. I feel bad about that, but I have no idea what I can do. Brenda and the VCR are gone, and how to you catch someone who can be anyone? THE END