You Owe Me free porn video

You Owe Me By Tim Willows NOTE: "You Owe Me" was inspired by one of my favourite Fictionmania stories, "Going Through Some Changes" by Morpheus, except I've changed the way the magical device in Morpheus's story works in two respects: one, the device that gives the person the power to change the other person is non-transferable; and two, the person's clothes can also be magically changed. (Sorry, I just didn't have the energy to write a big shopping-at-the-mall scene.) Anyway, I hope Morpheus and the rest of the Fictionmania community will look at this story as a homage rather than a rip-off. Enjoy! ? Tim Willows * * * * * "You owe me," said Nick as he swung his end of the couch around so that it faced the television set." "I know, I know," Paul replied, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. "I owe you, I owe you, I owe you. You told me the same thing when you showed up at my old apartment and saw all the boxes, you told it to me again when we were loading up the moving van, you said it again when you found out my new apartment building doesn't have an elevator, and you told it to me about eighteen times when we were trying to figure out how to carry this goddamned couch up three flights of stairs. I owe you! I owe you! I get it! And I promise you, I won't forget it. But this is the last piece of furniture, okay? So instead of reminding me how much I'm now in your debt, why don't we sit down and have a beer and relax, okay?" "Sounds good to me," Nick smiled. "Where are the cushions?" "They're around here someplace," Paul replied. "We brought them up on top of all the boxes with my books, remember?" "Twenty boxes of books!" Nick exclaimed in mock-outrage. "Who needs twenty boxes of books! Up three flights of stairs!!! You owe me, Paul?you owe me!" Paul laughed. What other response could he have? He really did owe Nick for helping him move?it was a big job that he could never have done on his own, and for all his complaining, he knew his buddy Nick was happy to help him get set up in his new apartment downtown. It was smaller than his old place, but since he'd broken up with his live- in girlfriend Theresa a month earlier, he didn't need as much space as he used to. It was kind of nice to find someplace new to live, he decided: start fresh! Get a new lease on life! Leave all those painful romantic memories behind in some old part of the city and move into a bright, shiny new apartment with no unhappy associations lurking in every corner of every room! And apparently no sofa cushions anywhere either?where had they put them? Paul could have sworn he'd tossed them over in this corner with all the books, but they were nowhere to be seen. He looked around the room, filled haphazardly with piles of cardboard boxes and suitcases full of disorganized items of clothing. God? it would probably take him a month to get this place sorted out properly. "I can't find the cushions, Nick," he said. "Are they over where you are? Can you look?" "Forget it," Nick replied. "I'm too tired. Let's just sit down." "You sure?" "Yeah, Paul," Nick said, sprawling out ostentatiously on the cushionless couch. "This'll just be another bit of discomfort you owe me for. You can..." Nick stopped in mid- sentence. "Hey, what's this?" "What's what?" "This." Nick was groping with one hand into the crease at the back of the couch. "There's, like, some kind of necklace or something stuck down here. Yeah?check it out." Sure enough, when Nick pulled out his hand, he was holding up an elegant, expensive-looking necklace. It was made out of impossibly thin strands of white gold, intricately woven together; strung onto the necklace was a ring. The ring looked much cheaper than the necklace?no stones, slightly tarnished and scratched, dull-looking. It didn't even seem as though it belonged with the necklace?Paul thought the metal looked like brass at best. "Is it Theresa's?" Nick asked. "If it is," Paul replied, "I've never seen her wear it. You know, we bought this couch at a flea market?maybe it belonged to whoever owned the couch first." "Well, it's mine now!" Nick said triumphantly, happily stuffing the necklace into the pocket of his jeans. "Yours?" Paul said. "Whose couch did it come out of?" "Hey," Nick said. "You owe me. Right? Didn't you say just two minutes ago that you owed me? Well, let me have the necklace and we can call this whole thing even. Fair?" "Hardly!" Paul said. "Look at that thing! I bet it's worth a small fortune! Tell you what?it's my couch, but you found it, so what say we take it to a jeweller tomorrow, we find out what it's worth, and we split it. Deal?" "You serious?" Nick said. "I was just kinda kidding back there about taking the necklace. You'd really let me have half?" "I just said I would, didn't I?" "Wow," Nick said, genuinely awed by Paul's generosity. "You're really a friend, man. I think you deserve to have the ring for that." "Big man," chuckled Paul as Nick undid the clasp of the necklace, unstrung the ring and tossed it to him. It was surprisingly heavy for such a cheap-looking thing. "Try it on," Nick said. Paul laughed and slid the dull-coloured metal band onto the ring finger of his right hand. He struck a couple of corny modelling poses. "Now let's see what that necklace looks like on you." "I don't know, Paul," Nick joked as he placed the strand of gold around his neck. "Pearls have always been more my thing.... Ow!" "What?" "Fuck!" Nick spat, shaking his hand and examining the tip of his finger. "As soon as I did up that clasp, it gave me a shock. Fuck, that smarts!" "Are you okay?" "Yeah, I'll be fine." Nick said. "But you owe me for that, Paul?making me put on this stupid necklace. You owe me!" Paul nodded absently?in fact, he was too distracted by the odd sensation on his ring finger to offer much more of a reply. His ring seemed to be getting warmer?not uncomfortably so, but enough to make him worry about leaving a burn mark on his skin. He tried to take the ring off, but it wouldn't budge. Nick was still talking: "Kind of a shame to give the necklace up," he was saying. "I was kind of thinking it would look nice on Shelley. You know, that girl I met last week? She loves wearing stuff like that. She's got one of those... what do you call them? You know... swan necks? Long and thin and delicate and... and... and..." "What?" Paul asked. Nick was staring right at him, speechless. Well, not right at him, actually, a few inches down. "What? What is it?" "Your... your neck," Nick sputtered. "Jesus, Paul, what's happened to your neck?" "Nothing's happened to my neck. What are you talking about?" Paul's voice sounded vaguely off to him?slightly higher, somehow, cracked, but he couldn't put his finger on his. He cleared his throat a couple of times. "What's wrong with my neck?" "Just... just look in the mirror, why don't you?" Paul poked around in the boxes marked "BATHROOM" for a little while before discovering a handheld shaving mirror. Nick didn't stop staring at him the whole time?and when he held the mirror up to his face, he found out why. His neck was different. It was... thinner, undeniably thinner. And long, and elegant. Was it even... paler? Paul looked more closely, feeling it with his fingers. It was! There was a noticeable... well, join where it met his collarbone. The skin was definitely softer, too, and as he examined it, he realized with a start that even his Adam's apple was missing. Well, that explained his changed voice, anyway?if nothing else. "My neck," he said. "What happened to it?" "Oh my God," Nick said. "Paul... you've... you've got... a swan neck, like Shelley's. You've got Shelley's neck!" "What? That's impossible!" "Impossible? Look at it! I was just thinking about Shelley's neck just a couple of minutes ago, and suddenly, you've got it!" "Well, think about something else!" Paul screamed. "Think about my neck, for Christ's sake, before it freezes this way!" "Hold on, hold on," Nick said. "Calm down?let me concentrate." Nick closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. "Let me think about what it looked like." He frowned deeply for a few moments. Paul didn't dare say a word. Finally, Nick opened his eyes again. He looked at Paul and grinned. Paul looked at the mirror. "It's back!" Paul said, nearly collapsing with relief. "Thank God, I've got my normal neck back." "I knew I could do it," Nick grinned. "Power of concentration, that's all it is." "Power of concentration, my ass," said Paul. "It's the goddamned necklace and the goddamned ring, that's what it is. That electric shock you felt when you put it on?and the way the ring felt so warm right after? There's something going on with these things." "What, like magic?" Nick said. "Come on." "How else do you explain it?" Paul said. "We both saw it. You just thought about it and suddenly I had a girl's neck. What other explanation could there be?" "So you're saying that if I just close my eyes and think about, like, like, Shelley's hair or whatever? Holy fuck!" Suddenly, Nick saw that Paul, whose hair was formerly short and brown, now had a thick mane of blonde hair dangling all the way down to the middle of his back. Paul, irritated, brushed an errant strand of hair out of his face and tucked it behind his ear. "You were saying?" he said. "Oh my God!" Nick said. "You've got Shelley's hair! I've got to take this fucking thing off!" But the necklace only gave him another electric shock?this one even more painful than the first one. "Gaaah! It zapped me again!" "I can't seem to take the ring off either," Paul sighed. "What?" "It doesn't zap me, but it won't come off my finger, either." "You're shitting me." "I'm not shitting you," Paul said, sitting down next to Nick and giving his blonde locks an unconscious toss over his shoulder. "I wish I were, but I'm not." "So what are you saying? We're stuck like this? From now on, your body changes to whatever I'm thinking of?" Paul stared at Nick for a few moments. Was he... actually getting excited by the idea? "It looks that way," he said cautiously. Nick gave his lips a quick, nervous lick. "So... let me get this straight. Say I decided to close my eyes and think about, oh, say... Lindsay Lohan sitting here next to me? Holy fuck!" Paul's stomach sank immediately. He knew what that exclamation meant, and indeed, his body felt radically different even before he looked down at himself to inspect the changes: the couch suddenly felt slightly larger and his feet had to stretch a little more in order to reach the floor. He lifted his hands to his chest, where a pair of gorgeously rounded mounds now protruded from underneath his T-shirt?as soon as he touched them; his newly sensitive nipples hardened enough to be visible through the thin cotton. Paul gave a small, involuntary wriggle of discomfort, which made him aware of how his pants now felt strangely loose, a couple of sizes too big. He was suddenly aware of how the cotton felt against his skin?it took him a few moments to realize that his legs were now shaved. There was an onrush of other strange new sensations?the vague feeling of wrongness between his legs, the surprisingly comfortable feeling of sitting on Lindsay Lohan's round, shapely ass, the disconcerting feeling that came from rubbing his smaller tongue across his smaller teeth inside his smaller mouth?but they all rushed at him too quickly for his brain to be able to process them all individually. He held out his thin, girlish arm, lightly dusted with freckles, and inspected it. The tan was perfect. "Nick," Paul said in his delicate new voice. "You turned me into Lindsay Lohan, didn't you?" "I sure did, buddy, I sure did." Nick looked at his transformed buddy with a combination of wonderment and lust. "Fuck, man, just look at you. I can't believe that's you. Say something else!" "Turn me back." "No, man, something else! Something sexy!" "Turn me back, Nick. I feel ridiculous." "Well, you sure don't look ridiculous. You look fucking hot, man. Can I touch you?" He tentatively held Paul's wrist, as if he were afraid the illusion would shatter if he applied any pressure at all. "Fuck, you even feel like a girl, Paul. You look fucking amazing." "I look ridiculous." "I'm telling you, you don't. You only look ridiculous because you're sitting there in a bunch of guy clothes. Man, I should have pictured you in, like, a sexy nightie or something...." Paul suddenly felt a light breeze wash over his legs and shoulders. He sighed in exasperation. "Holy fuck!" Nick exclaimed. "Now that's more like it! Now, that's what I'm talking about!" Paul looked down at himself once more and reddened with embarrassment. It had been bad enough to see the outlines of his new D-cup breasts underneath his T-shirt, but it was quite another experience altogether to see them packed into a white, lacy, dangerously low-cut nightgown. "Oh, for Christ's sake, Nick," he shouted, leaping up from the couch and trying to ignore the bouncing of his bounteous, newly acquired tits. "What are you trying to do to me? What did you do with my clothes?" Paul could feel himself blushing?he modestly wrapped his arms around his body, but somehow that gesture only made him more self-conscious and more acutely aware of how much flesh he now had on display. His shoulders were bare except for the two thin white straps holding the nightgown up. Actually, it was less a nightgown than a short, sheer teddy?it was barely long enough to cover his ass, which left Paul's shapely, bare new female legs and tiny, bare female feet completely exposed right down to the tips of his toes. Paul saw that his toenails had been painted bright red?what a strange, alienating, out-of-body experience it was to think about flexing those toes, which didn't look like anything that had been part of his body just five minutes ago, and to see them respond so easily? and in such a girlish way. Paul nervously tried to pull the teddy down over his butt, but it was of little use?this outfit was going to leave him exposed to the world no matter how hard he tried to cover up. His fingers brushed against something as he did so?it felt like satin. Paul frowned. "Nick?" he asked suspiciously. "Am I wearing a thong?" Nick grinned. "Nope. But now you are!" Paul let out a little yelp as he felt a strip of fabric suddenly slip between the cheeks of his butt. "Stop that!" "Sorry, sorry. But you've gotta tell me?what's it feel like, Paul? I mean, you look amazing. I mean, you look just like her?Lindsay Lohan, I mean. In fact, I think I made you look even hotter than she does. You're, like, the sexiest chick I've ever seen up close." "Dude, come on?what am I? Like, about sixteen years old?" "Sixteen? What kind of pervert do you think I am? Lindsay Lohan's gotta be, like, eighteen at least. Besides, you're sure as hell not sixteen with cans like that, let me tell you." "Can we stop talking about my tits, please?" Paul pleaded. "I'm feeling self-conscious enough as it is in this outfit you've dressed me up in without you talking about my chest all the time." "You really look great, though, Paul. Go into the bathroom and check yourself out. It's unreal." Paul glowered at his friend, but he had to admit, he was beside himself with curiosity. What did he look like? He remembered seeing a picture of Lindsay Lohan in a magazine; she was wearing a tight red dress and was lying sprawled across a couch, her untamed mane of red hair spread tantalizingly across a cushion. He'd gotten an almost instant hard-on just looking at her. She was a hell of an attractive girl; there was no denying that. Did he really look like that now? That would explain the hungry-looking expression on Nick's face, anyway. "Are you going to follow me into the bathroom?" Paul asked. "Sorry?but I just can't wait to see the expression on your face." Paul sighed as he walked into the bathroom and confronted the mirror. Nick was right?his expression was worth it. He was 100 per cent Lindsay Lohan, he had the same eyes, the same flirty smile, the same killer body. He put his face up to the glass and felt his skin; his complexion was flawless, and his fingernails were perfectly manicured. He stepped back a couple of steps and turned to one side so that he could inspect his figure, cupping his breasts, standing on tiptoe and sticking out his butt. He could hear Nick chuckling from behind him. "A girl for less than five minutes, and he's primping already." Paul blushed again. "Well, what do you expect?" he asked. "You don't think I'm going to check myself out? God... look at me. This is unreal...." "You never did answer my question, Paul. What's it feel like?" "I don't know," Paul said, getting increasingly engrossed by his own reflection. "It hardly even feels like me. I'm staring at this sexy girl in the mirror and I have to keep reminding myself over and over again that it's actually me in there. I can feel my tits bouncing around all over the place, and it's so weird feeling my nipples out there, like, this feeling of being aroused a few inches in front of where my body's supposed to end, you know? And I'm wearing this nightgown and a thong, and I know I should feel ridiculous, all dressed up in something so girly, but I mean, look at me! Now I can wear all this stuff. My skin's all soft and I've got all these curves.... I mean, high heels, stockings... I could put on some tiny little T-shirt and walk around with my midriff showing and it would look perfectly natural. And... and... I'm sexy. You know? I mean, look at how you're acting around me!" "What about me?" "Look at how you're looking at me. You're grinning like an idiot. You know I'm you're buddy Paul, but you're looking up and down at me and staring at my tits like I'm some centerfold girl." "Centerfold girls are naked." "Well, don't get any fancy ideas!" Paul shouted. "This nightgown is bad enough. Can't you give me something a little more modest?" "Oh, come on, two more minutes. You owe me!" "Nick!" "Oh, all right. Here, let me concentrate." In a flash, Paul found himself dressed in a miraculously soft, body-hugging pink Juicy Couture-style sweat suit worn over top of a form-fitting T-shirt with the word 'JAILBAIT' spelled out across the breasts in rhinestones. "Better?" Nick asked. "Marginally," Paul grumbled. "Can't you change the shirt?" "Aw, come on, let me have my fun. You owe me, right?" "Stop saying that!" He stomped back into the living on his bare feet (now painted pink to match his new outfit) and flopped into the couch. Nick watched him go and wondered how long it would be before he realized the words 'CUTE ASS' were stitched onto the seat of his sweatpants. "Now what are we going to do about this?" "Well," Nick said, sitting down on the couch next to his transformed buddy, lifting up his feet and putting them in his lap. "As far as I can tell, I think we're stuck like this for now." "Stuck like this?" Paul screamed. "No way am I going through life stuck life this!" "Calm down, calm down, cutie," Nick said, wiggling Paul's big toe. "I don't mean you're stuck looking like Lindsay Lohan forever; although, really, would that really be that terrible? No, I just mean we're probably stuck in this new arrangement. I can't take off my necklace and you can't take off your ring, so until we figure out a way around that problem, it looks like I can make you look and dress anyway I want. I can make you look like your old self again..." Suddenly, Paul felt himself back in his old body and his old clothes. A smile of relief broke across his face. "...or I can make you look like Lindsay Lohan." And then, just as suddenly, Paul felt his body change back to the luscious female form he had occupied originally?only this time, dressed in a Catholic schoolgirl outfit, complete with knee socks, plaid skirt, blazer and long, straight hair pulled back with a ribbon. "Wow," Nick marvelled. "I'm really getting good at this costuming thing!" Paul sat up as soon as he felt the change in clothing. "My skin looks paler," he said, examining his hands. "Yeah," Nick said. "I decided I wasn't crazy about that whole spray-on tan thing you had going. You looked like an Oompa-Loompa." "At least I'm getting used to having tits," Paul said. "They feel lighter already." "Oh, yeah, that... " Nick said, a touch of embarrassment in his voice. "Actually, that's because I made you fourteen this time." "Fourteen!" (So that's why my voice sounded different again, Paul thought.) "Well, with the schoolgirl outfit and all, it just seemed right. Sorry, man, I'm kind of at the mercy of my imagination, you know? And besides, you look pretty adorable. I should take a picture?where did you pack your camera?" Paul was about to let out a shriek of outrage, but he was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Mr. Wolcott?" called the voice on the other side. "Mr. Wolcott?" "Shit!" Paul hissed. "It's my landlord. He can't see me like this!" "Why not?" Nick said. "What's wrong with the way you look?" "I'm not ready for someone to see me like this!" Paul said. "Change me back! Change me back!" "You're being crazy," Nick said. "We'll just say you're your niece. In fact, let's just make a couple of quick adjustments...." Suddenly, Paul felt a pair of glasses appear on his face. He was about to protest some more, but he was too shocked to find that he now was wearing braces too to say anything. He felt his chest and his butt deflate until he was as flat as a board, and he could also sense his arms and legs getting even skinnier than before. "There!" Nick said, admiring his handiwork. "Perfect! Even I barely recognize you! Now let's answer the door...." "Nick..." Paul said feebly, but it was no use. All he could do was fold his stick-like arms under his nonexistent breasts and watch through his smudged glasses as Nick opened the door. Mr. Domczaryk, the landlord, a hearty, big-bellied Pole, was on the other side. "Oh, hello, sir!" he said when he saw Nick. "I'm Mr. Domczaryk. Is Mr. Wolcott here?" "Nope," Nick said, shaking his hand. "He just dashed out to get some food?no groceries, you know. I'm his friend Nick. I just helped him move in today." "Ah!" Mr. Domczaryk said, beaming. "Good friends! How precious it is to have good friends to help us out in our time of need! You are a good man, sir!" He glanced over Nick's shoulder. "You are settled in yet, yes?" "Not really," Nick said. "Boxes everywhere, still unpacked. Would you like to come in?" "Yes! Yes! I would love to!" Mr. Domczaryk exclaimed, striding past Nick, curious to see what his new tenant had done with the place, and practically colliding with Paul. God, Paul thought from his diminished viewpoint. He seems five times as big as he did when I signed the lease. "Oh! Miss! I am so sorry! I did not see you there!" "That's Paul's niece Priscilla," Nick said. "We call her Prissy for short. She stopped over on her way home from school to see how her uncle was settling in at his new place." "Oh!" Mr. Domczaryk said. He took Paul's startled hand and kissed it. "Hello, Prissy! My word, what a beautiful girl! Skinny, though! Very, very skinny! You must eat more, little girl! Boys like girls with some meat on their bones." "I'll try to keep that in mind," Paul mumbled. "Prissy doesn't have to worry about boyfriends!" Nick said. "She's the most popular girl at school. How many boyfriends have you had already, Prissy?" Paul shot Nick a dark glare. "I don't know," he said sternly. "She doesn't know!" Nick laughed. "Lost count of them all already! But I suppose that's what happens when you're head cheerleader like Prissy there! The boys all fall all over you!" "Cheerleader!" Mr. Domczaryk said. "Wonderful! I approve of girls who exercise!" "Well, it was a natural step," Nick said, "after being a gymnast and a ballerina from such an early age. You still take ballet classes, don't you, Prissy?" "That's right, Uncle Nick," Paul said through his teeth. "In fact, I've got a lesson tonight. Remember? You said you'd drive me there?" "I did? Oh, that's right, that's right," Nick chuckled. "You'll have to excuse us, won't you, Mr. Domczaryk? Prissy's got a ballet class in half an hour, and we've still got to get her ready?she's got to get herself all dressed up and looking pretty and... well, you know how little girls are with their dresses and their outfits and all that." "Oh, of course, of course," Mr. Domczaryk said. "I will let you go. I did not mean to be in the way. Thank you for inviting me in, and give my best greeting to Mr. Wolcott when he comes back." "Of course," Nick smiled. "Have a good night, Mr. Domczaryk. Prissy, say good night to Mr. Domczaryk." "Yes, come here!" Mr. Domczaryk exclaimed. "Give me a goodbye kiss! Right here on the cheek!" Nick could barely stifle his laughter as Paul slowly approached the burly landlord, trying to smile sweetly up at him even as he clenched and unclenched his fists in silent fury, and gave him a tender peck on the side of his face. Once Mr. Domczaryk had said his final goodbye, however, and the door was firmly closed behind him, Paul unleashed his temper. "You fucking dick!" he shouted, angrily noting how ineffective such swearwords sounded in the high, delicate voice he now spoke with. "You think that was pretty fucking funny, don't you?" "I sure fucking do," Nick said. "Come on, Paul, I was just having a bit of fun with you. Take a joke." "Take a joke?" Paul shouted. "What are we going to do now? That old Polack is going to be sitting in his office by the lobby waiting to see us walk out together on our way to my ballet lesson!" "Oh, wow." Nick said. "I never thought of that. Oh well, that's easy to fix." He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, Paul was dressed in a pink leotard. The ribbon in his hair had now changed to pink, a pink, flowing ballet skirt was tied around his waist and a pair of pink satin ballet slippers now adorned Paul's small, delicate feet. "There," Nick said, conjuring up a small pink gym bag for Paul to carry over his shoulder. "Now we're ready to go." "Go where?" Paul yelled. "Where you said! Now that you're in costume, we'll take the elevator down, walk through the lobby, wave at Mr. Whatsisname in his office, get into my car and make it look like you're on your way to pirouette school." Paul sighed and plucked nervously at the skirt with his fingers. "God, I thought the nightie was bad, but going out in public looking like this? It's mortifying!" "You look cute," Nick said. "No one will know you're really a dude. I mean, you probably weigh about 90 pounds now, soaking wet. No one will look at you twice." "Well, couldn't you have picked another name besides Prissy?" Paul said, tossing the gym bag over his shoulder. "Oh! Damn! I think I chipped a nail!" "No," Nick said. "I think Prissy suits you just fine." He gave Paul an affectionate pat on the ass and opened the door. "Now let's get you to ballet school." * * * * * "Now tell me that wasn't fun!" Paul didn't respond. He was too busy sitting in the passenger seat of Nick's car, contemplating the bizarre turn his life had taken and fiddling with the ring on his finger. He could rotate it without any trouble, but whenever he tried pulling it off, it refused to budge. He sighed and, hoping Nick wasn't watching him too closely, gazed downward at the scrawny fourteen-year-old girl's body he now wore. Once again he marvelled at the strangeness of it all?the soft skin, the thin limbs, the lack of a bulge between his legs. He looked at his bare legs, the ballet slippers on his feet, and noted with wonderment how all these ultra-feminine articles of clothing now looked perfectly natural on his body. The truth was, although he still wasn't quite ready to admit it, Nick was right: this was fun! Looking like he was fourteen years old was a bit of a drag, but then again, he was a little relieved to be making his public debut as a female in such an unprepossessing body. He wasn't sure he could have handled all the stares that his voluptuous Lindsay Lohan body would have attracted. "So what's the plan?" Paul asked. "Well, we can't just drive back to your place," Nick said. "Not half an hour after we left. So I was thinking we could play around with this necklace and the ring a little." "Play around with it? What do you mean?" "You know," Nick said. "Try out a few new bodies for you. Have some fun with it. Go on a date, kind of." "A date?" Paul said. "You mean you're going to keep me as a girl?" "Paul, I've been trying ever since we drove away from your apartment to turn you into a guy. I tried Brad Pitt, I tried Michael Jordan, I tried Ron Jeremy, but nothing worked. I think this whole magical set-up is XX-chromosome only. It looks like the only guy I can turn you into is yourself." "Well, turn me back to myself, then! We'll go to a bar or go see a movie!" "Paul, did you get to be the most boring guy in the world naturally or did you have to work at it? Now, come on! We've got the most amazing, miraculous device in the history of mankind at our disposal and you want to put it away and go to the Cineplex. Besides, I mean, not to be unkind, but why would I want to do something with you when I could do it with, say... Jessica Alba instead?" Paul felt his body shift; a quick glance in the rear view mirror told him that he was now an exact double of Jessica Alba. He was wearing a strapless green leather dress, matching high-heeled shoes and a dozen or so bracelets on each wrist. "Pretty hot, huh?" Nick said. "Keep your eyes on the road," Paul muttered, uneasy stroking his bare thigh. "Besides," Nick said. "It's not as if you ultimately have much choice in the matter, right? And besides, besides, besides... you owe me, right?" "Just how long am I going to keep owing you?" Paul asked. "I'm beginning to wish I'd done all my moving myself. Why do you have to keep making me into these sexy little hotties?" "What?you don't want to be sexy? I don't believe it." "It's awkward." "You're telling me you'd rather be some schlub than look like Jessica Alba? Or you'd rather..." Paul felt his body change again. He looked down at himself? he still looked like Jessica Alba, but only if she weighed 280 pounds. His thighs were enormous, and he could feel the rolls of fat folded up beneath his breasts. His fingers were now round and stubby-looking, like cigars?he noticed that the ring had expanded to fit him. "I could leave you like that for a while, if you'd prefer," Nick said. Paul sat there silently. "See?" Nick smiled. "You hate it, don't you? You want me to change you back into the hottie!" "Okay! Okay! I admit it! I like being the sexy, skinny little hottie! I love being able to prance around in all those skimpy little dresses! It's the biggest thrill I've ever had in my life! Okay? Now change me back! I hate this! I'm sweating and I'm fat and I'm ugly. I want to be pretty again!" Paul could feel tears starting to course down his plump cheeks. "Okay, okay, calm yourself down," Nick said. "Now let's take our time here. We don't want to go off half-cocked." "Speak for yourself," Paul sulked. "I don't even have half a cock anymore, remember?" "Hey, he's got his sense of humour back! Fantastic! Okay, listen, Paul, I was thinking: what if, as a reward for you being such a good sport and all, I let you decide what you want to look like this time." "Really?" He sniffed. "You mean it?" "Sure," Nick said. "Whatever your heart desires. But remember?after this one, you owe me." He steered the car into a lot behind an apartment building and parked it. "All right," he said. "Tell me what you'd like to look like and I'll do my best to duplicate it for you. Actually, why don't we get out the car first?" Paul groaned and sweated a little as he lifted his increased bulk out of the car. My God, but being this size was uncomfortable, he could feel bands of sweat collecting in all sorts of ugly little crevices all over his body, his shoes pinched, his bra pinched, and he could feel his panties riding up into the crack of his ass. "Well, first of all," he said, still panting a little, "I want to be thin. Enough with this lard ass routine, okay?" "One crash diet coming up," Nick said. All at once, Paul felt all that excess weight drop away?it was so sudden, it felt as though he were escaping the bonds of gravity. He half-wondered if he'd go flying up into the sky. Barely even thinking about what he was doing, he did a happy little twirl right there in the parking lot. "Now what?" Nick said. "Hang on, hang on, let me think." Paul's heart was thumping in his chest. He couldn't believe how excited he was getting. He'd never really entertained any transsexual fantasies before, but after just a few hours spent inhabiting various female bodies, he realized he'd never felt more electric, more joyful, more excited to be alive in his entire life. Why had he put up such a fuss before? "All right, how about this? You know Kate Moss?" Nick's eyes lit up. "The model? Oh, yeah. I know Kate Moss. Oh man, are you telling me you want to be Kate Moss?" "Yeah," Paul said, "but hang on. Could you make her, like, taller? Like, maybe 5'10" or something? And, like, slightly Asian maybe? Like, a quarter Japanese?" "Okay..." "And I want to look like a real gym bunny, okay? Like, as if I do a thousand sit-ups a day." "I suppose you want an outfit to show off those abs of yours as well, huh?" Paul smiled coquettishly at his friend. "Well, I might as well, right? I mean, if you've got it, flaunt it." "Well, buddy, you'd better start flaunting it. Take a look at yourself." It had all happened so fast, Paul barely felt the change take place. But he could feel the difference?he was taller, for one thing, taller even than Nick. He wobbled a little as he stood there, and when he looked down to see why, he saw that Nick had given him a pair of three-inch high- heeled wedgie sandals that showed off his elegant feet, there was a dainty toe ring on the left one. A tiny, well- worn denim skirt hung precariously on his hipbones, allowing the occasional flash of the top of the pink thong he had on underneath. Completing the ensemble was a cropped baby-blue tank top that showed off Paul's enviably toned midriff, his stomach muscles rippling visibly underneath his skin. Paul could feel his hair tickling his bare shoulders, and he eagerly grabbed a strand of it and held it up to his face. "I can't tell," he said. "What colour hair do I have? It looks black." "It is black," Nick said. "You're a quarter Japanese, remember? Although, I can make you a blonde, if you like or a redhead. Hell, I could probably give you hair the same colour as your top there and as long as Rapunzel's if I wanted to." "No, this is fine." Paul said. "What am I saying? It's wonderful! But I was wondering, could you, like, pigtail it for me?" "Sure." In a flash, Paul's hair was tied into a cute pair of pigtails that dangled just past his shoulders. "And can you give me a belly ring?" "Done. Would you like a lower back tattoo to go with it? I've got them on special today." "No, but how about you make my tits just a little bit bigger, Nicky? I mean, if I'm going to be a girl for the day, I really want to feel like a girl." "'Nicky,' huh? You're really getting into this, aren't you?" "Are you kidding? I'm completely into it," Paul said, before letting out a squeal when he felt his breasts swell up a cup size. "That's more like it!" he said, cupping them with his hands and noticing for the first time how long his fingernails now were. Paul looked down at himself again, inspecting his new body from every angle. A surge of thrilling pride ran down his spine?he knew instinctively that not one woman in 100,000 had a body as desirable as the one he now owned. He felt at once strong yet totally feminine; he was almost afraid to start feeling the softness of his skin, the smoothness of his arms and legs, the delectable curve of his ass, because once he started, he didn't think he'd ever be able to stop. And then he realized that what he really wanted was not to feel himself; he wanted someone else to feel him. He looked slowly up at Nick, trying to give him a smouldering sideways glance like a temptress in a 1940s movie. "So," he said, sauntering towards his old friend. "Would you like to inspect your handiwork?" Nick swallowed, and looked nervously around to see if anyone else had entered the parking lot. "Jesus, Paul, are you kidding me?" Paul shook his head softly from side to side, still slowly striding towards Nick on his long, slinky legs, Nick was mesmerized by the sight. It was like something out of a music video. Paul had always been the shorter of the two men, but now with his sandals, he was half a head taller than Nick was. "Call me Priscilla." By now, Paul was standing right next to Nick. He reached out and placed Nick's hand on his ass and stared into his eyes for a few moments, licking his red, kissable lips with his tongue. But he couldn't keep up the act for long, and after a few seconds, he burst into laughter, crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. "God, you men are so easy! Have them talk to a pretty girl and they're struck completely dumb!" After a moment of confusion, Nick began laughing too. "Okay, okay, 'Priscilla.' You got me. You got me. Jesus, I thought I was the one in control here. You owe me for that!" For the second time that day, he gave Paul a playful smack on the ass. "Oh no, now I owe you again," Paul smiled. "What do I owe you this time?" "I'll think of something, you can be sure of that. But Jesus Christ, I really outdid myself this time, didn't I?" He looked Paul up and down and let out a wolf whistle. Paul grinned and stood at attention. "I mean, those legs just go on forever. And those tits?Jesus, Paul, I never thought I'd say this to you, but you've got a hell of a rack." "They're real... and they're spectacular!" said Paul. "God," he added under his breath, "but I am such a geek." "Can I touch your stomach?" Nick placed his palm on Paul's midriff and felt the outline of his new ab muscles and gently flicked his belly ring with his pinky finger. "Pretty cute." He gave Paul's belly a quick kiss. "Oooh!" Paul said. "That felt a little electric." "Oh, yeah? Well how about this?" This time, Nick kissed Paul on the neck. "That did too," Paul said. "I'm beginning to detect a pattern." "Sexy and intelligent!" Nick said. "My kind of girl! Okay, what say I show you off a little, huh?" "Sounds good. What did you have in mind?" "Well, I thought we could go down to the Fluid Lounge, have a few drinks and I can introduce you around as my new girlfriend. Watch everybody's eyes pop out of their heads." Paul frowned. "Nick... don't you already have a girlfriend? Remember Shelley? The girl with the tantalizing neck?" "I know, I know," Nick sighed. "But come on?how often in this life am I going to get the chance to walk into a bar with a babe like you hanging off my shoulder? It's just pretend! Shelley will never find out, and besides..." "I know," Paul said. "I owe you." He rolled his eyes. "Okay. But you're buying, okay?" "Hey, I'm the man, right?" "Plus you forgot to wish me up a purse." "Whoops?here you go." A small black handbag appeared in Paul's hand. "Now let's get driving. I supposed you want me to open the car door for you too?" "Well, are you a gentleman or aren't you?" Nick sighed. He knew he was beaten. He did his best chauffeur imitation as he opened the passenger-side door for Paul, watching appreciatively as Paul glided his long, sexy legs into the seat. By the time he took his seat, Paul had already pulled down the visor and was checking his appearance in the mirror. "God," Paul said, inspecting his face from every angle. "You're probably sick of hearing me say this, but I really am gorgeous." He opened his mouth. "Even my teeth are sexy." "You'll notice I pierced your ears as well," Nick said. "You think of everything!" smiled Paul. "Yeah. Listen?you might want to think about sitting with your legs closed once we get to the bar. I don't mind it in the car, but if you do that in that skirt on a barstool, I think you're going to get a few unwelcome stares." Paul saw Nick was right?without even thinking about it, he'd allowed his skirt to ride up ridiculously high, and his thighs to spread so wide apart you'd think he was his dad sitting on the couch after Thanksgiving dinner. "Oops!" he giggled, snapping his legs back together. "Well, I guess I should be relieved that I haven't lost all my male habits. Which pose do you prefer, though? This?" Paul sat with his legs together and bent slightly to one side, the tips of his fingers just touching his knees. "Or this?" Paul crossed his legs in the feminine style, showing a lovely expanse of thigh and idly flexing his sandal-clad foot. "You're killing me, Paul, you're killing me." Nick shook his head and turned on the radio. It was an oldies station, and Rick James's "Super Freak" began to play. Paul caught Nick's eye and grinned as he began dancing quietly in his seat to the funky rhythms of the song, moving his shoulders and lip-synching the lyrics. They were lucky Nick didn't drive the car into a telephone pole. Thankfully, they arrived at the Fluid Lounge in one piece. Once again, Nick opened the car door for Paul, who found that getting out of a car gracefully was a little trickier than getting inside one. "Still learning, huh?" Nick chuckled as Paul blushingly tried to cover up the view he'd just given the world of his panties. "Hey, give me a break. I've only been a girl for a couple of hours. Now, what's our story here? I'm supposed to be your new girlfriend, is that it?" "That's right?you're Priscilla, we've been going out for a couple of weeks now, and you're crazy about me." "Okay. So what is it I like about you?" "I don't know. How about I'm incredible in bed?" There were a few moments of silence as Paul stared at him, utterly deadpan. "How about we go with you make me laugh?" "Yeah, okay. That works." He slipped his arm around Paul's waist. "Jeez, you're a slim little thing now, aren't you? Okay, let's enjoy ourselves." Paul let Nick draw him close to him as they entered the bar. "I don't believe it," he thought to himself. "I'm actually... what's the expression? Arm candy!" But there was something enjoyable about the sensation of being held by a man and having his arm guide you as you walked?there was a certain thrill in relinquishing that little bit of control, in taking the passive role for the few seconds it took to walk from the car to the stools at the corner of the bar, but there was also a feeling of... Paul was about to say "power," but that wasn't quite the proper word. It was more a delicious sense of being on display, of knowing that Nick couldn't be prouder to have him next to me, and of knowing that every man in the room would spend any amount of money, offer themselves up to him in the most humiliating ways, if it meant they could win him away from Nick's side. He was the prize in the room. And Paul knew that he was so valuable that a lot of the men who looked at him wouldn't even dare to look at him, let alone approach him, he was that far above them, that far out of their league. It was a real adrenaline rush to Paul's ego; luckily, clumsy little problems like figuring out how to climb onto his barstool in his wedgie sandals or how to pick up salted peanuts with his long fingernails kept arising to keep him from feeling too full of himself. "Hey, Nick!" shouted the bartender. "Good to see ya! What can I get you?" "Hey there, Tom. I'll have a beer and what'll you have, baby?" There was a slight pause until Paul realized that 'baby' referred to him. "Oh, I don't know...." Somehow a beer didn't seem like the thing to order looking the way he did. "How about a margarita?" "Coming right up. So, Nick where have you been? I haven't seen you come around in, like, a month!" "What can I say?" Nick shrugged, giving Paul an affectionate peck on the cheek. "I've been busy." "I'll say!" he replied, looking Paul over and trying not to stare too long at him. "God, I'll say you've been busy. So you are..." "Priscilla," Paul said, putting his arm around Nick's shoulder. "I'm Nick's girlfriend." "You're Nick's girlfriend?" Tom said. The idea just refused to sink in. "You're Nick's girlfriend? This girl is your girlfriend, Nick?" "Yeah," Nick smiled. "We've been together... how long has it been, Priscilla?" "Oh, gosh, Nicky, I don't know. It's all been such a blur. Well, it must have been about three weeks ago last Sunday that we met, right?" "Right, on the beach." "Of course?on the beach," Paul said. "Do you want to tell him the story?" "Er... why don't you tell it?" "It's such a good story, isn't it?" "Yeah, uh, it's, uh, fantastic... I just wouldn't know where to start it. You were sunbathing, weren't you?" "Yeah, in the nude," Paul said, whereupon Tom the bartender, who had just finished mixing Paul's margarita, nearly poured half of it onto the floor. "You were nude, huh?" Tom said. "Oh, it's terribly illegal, I know," Paul said, "but I find the policemen are always very sweet and understanding to me whenever somebody complains. I'm not hurting anyone, right?" "Oh, of course not. Um... where, exactly, on the beach do you like to go?" Paul pretended he didn't hear Tom's question and simply plowed on with his story, continuing to make it up as he went along. God, where was he going with all this? He had no idea. "Well, this one day, I was spread out on my blanket, you know, getting all nice and toasty brown, and I'm just lying back on my towel, you know, basking in the sun, and I had completely fallen asleep when... uh... when..." "When I fell right over you!" Nick said, just in the nick of time. "You fell over her?" Tom asked. "Head over heels!" Nick chuckled. "You see... uh... I was out jogging, you know, doing my morning jog..." "And I didn't realize I'd lain down right in the middle of the path all the joggers use!" Paul jumped in. "Can you imagine? How many people must have had to make this big detour around the naked girl sleeping in the middle of the path?" "Except for this idiot who didn't even see her until it was too late!" Nick laughed and took a swig of his beer. "You didn't see a naked girl?this naked girl?lying right there in front of you?" Tom said. "God, you need to go to the eye doctor, buddy." "Well, it's a good thing I didn't!" Nick said. "If I'd just run around her, I never would have fallen all over her and I never would have woken her up..." "...and he never would have apologized to me in such a charming way," Paul continued, running his fingernail up and down Nick's arm, "and he wouldn't have asked me out that very same night..." "And the rest is history!" Nick said, glancing at Paul and giving him a 'we sure wormed our way out of that one' look. "Say, are any of the guys here tonight? I kind of want to introduce Priscilla around." "I'm sure you do," Tom said with a friendly leer, handing Paul his margarita. "It's on the house. My compliments?it's not often I get to serve a gal as pretty as you. Yeah, Dan and Lyle are playing in the poolroom. Why don't you go say hi to them?" "I think I'll do just that. Come on, Paul?er, Priscilla. You think you're up to meeting the guys?" "I can't wait," Paul said, sliding off the barstool and smoothing his skirt. "How do I look?" "A lot sexier than when you woke up this morning," Nick said, giving Tom a sidelong wink. He slid his arm around Paul's waist and placed his hand on his firm, shapely ass. "Let's go sink a few balls." Paul had met Dan and Lyle several times before, but they were more Nick's friends than his. They were fun enough guys to get together with at the bar and watch a hockey game or a football game on the big-screen TV, but truthfully, he didn't really care for them. Dan was a lawyer, nothing fancy or high-paid, but that didn't stop him from behaving as though he belonged to some kind of higher caste of people. A slick, glib type with the good looks of Alec Baldwin before he started to put on weight, he was always ordering waitresses around, telling them they weren't coming around to his table often enough or bringing him his drinks fast enough, and he had an obnoxiously ostentatious way of telling them exactly how much their poor service was costing them on their tip. As for Lyle, he was nowhere near as unpleasant to be around as Dan; he was just so shy that it was hard to maintain a conversation with him. Thank God he lived in an age where someone had invented computers; his job as a programmer with some local tech firm?actually, Paul had always been a little bit foggy on exactly what it was that Lyle did for a living?enabled him to earn a good living while barely ever having to interact with actual human beings. He'd met Nick and Dan when they were all living in adjacent rooms back in their college days; Paul wondered if they still the only two friends Lyle had ever made in his life. It drove Dan crazy that Lyle made significantly more money than he did, despite belonging to a much geekier and less flashy profession, but his quiet willingness to frequently treat the gang to a round of drinks kept Dan's resentment mostly at bay. Nick and Paul entered the poolroom just as Dan sank the last ball on the table. "Yes!" he crowed. "Pay up, beeyotch!" "Hey," Nick said with a grin. "Let's ease up on the sexist language in the presence of my new girlfriend, okay, guys?" "Is that Nick I hear?" said Dan, whose back was still facing them. "And do I understand correctly? You've brought a broad into the inner sanctum? Well, we'll just have to see about that!" He turned, the cocky grin on his face morphing instantly into a look that combined the emotions of lust, surprise, envy, embarrassment and stupefaction and created a facial expression that made it look like Dan had just been smacked across his nose with a two-by-four. "What?" Paul said, trying to give Dan his best innocent- little-girl act. "Is this some kind of a boys' club or something?" "Oh, no, no, no, no, no," said Lyle, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants and rushing over to shake Paul's hand. "No, miss, don't pay any attention to him. He's just joking. Come on in, come on in, make yourself at home. Would you like a chair or something, a stool, maybe? My name's Lyle, by the way. L-Y-L-E. Maybe something to drink?" It was all Paul could do not to laugh out loud. He'd never seen Lyle like this?so nervous, so worried about etiquette and making a new person feel at home. "No, Lyle, that's fine, I've brought a drink of my own." Paul held up his margarita, walked across to the pool table and sat down insouciantly on the edge, crossing his legs at the ankles. He felt like laughing all over again as he watched the three men, even Nick, gather attentively in a circle around him. He felt like Marilyn Monroe in that dance number for 'Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend', it was so strange, the change in people's attitudes toward you when you're a beautiful women, all these men fussing over him. He was sure that if he pulled out a cigarette, three lighters would magically and instantaneously appear before him. "So, Nick, aren't you going to introduce me to your buddies here? Lyle I've met already, of course...." "Hiya," Lyle said, blushing as Paul playfully tousled a tuft of his hair. "I'm sorry," Nick said. "Guys, this is Priscilla. Priscilla... uh..." "Baggins," Paul said. "Priscilla Baggins." "Wow," Lyle said. "Like in Lord of the Rings? Gosh, I didn't know anybody was actually named Baggins in real life. That's kind of cool. Like, having the same name as, you know, the bearer of the ring." "Exactly," Paul smiled. "And this is Dan," Nick said, trying not to roll his eyes. "Yeah, hi, Priscilla, I'm a lawyer," said Dan, who, with the speed of a wolf, was out of his chair and shaking Paul's hand. With the slickness of a practiced womanizer, Dan parlayed that greeting into a hug and would have gotten an ass-grab out of the deal as well if Paul hadn't pretended to spill his margarita. "Oh! My drink! I'm sorry... uh, Don, was it? I didn't get any on that suit of yours, did I?" "No," Dan said. "I'm okay. And it's Dan." "Well, that's good, Don," Paul said. "But I guess it would have been okay anyway?I mean, that kind of cheap material is easy to clean up, isn't it?" "Gosh," Paul heard Lyle whispering to Nick. "She's really, really pretty, Nick. She's like a supermodel! I almost can't believe she's a real girl!" Paul felt a curious flush of pride course through his body at Lyle's words, such a sweet, unguarded compliment, one he probably would never have had the nerve to say to his face. But Dan quickly interrupted Paul's train of thought. "So!" he said through a frozen smile. "How'd you two crazy kids meet, anyway?" "Oh, long story," Nick said. "You should get Tom the bartender to tell it to you sometime. It's a helluva good story." "I'm naked in it," Paul said. "But let's leave that for another time," said Nick. "What say we all play some pool? That's what we came here for, isn't it?" "Two on two?" Dan said. "Losers buy the next round? Like, a beer and a shot for everyone?" "Sounds good. You and Lyle against me and Priscilla?" "The lovebirds versus the lovebirds!" Paul said, a little surprised by how much fun he was having needling Dan. He never used to ride him like this when they were just two guys hanging out, but somehow, in this gorgeous female body, the insults kept slipping out of his mouth even before he was aware he was saying them. Maybe the margarita was going straight to his head, maybe it was the subconscious knowledge that his new sex protected him from Dan actually slugging him or getting violent the way he might have if he were saying the same things as 'Paul.' The comments had a different kind of a sting coming from a girl; Paul sensed that Dan couldn't even be sure if he was being insulted or if this hot Priscilla chick were, in some cryptic way, flirting with him. "Hey," Dan said, "I'm all man. Besides, I'm not the one wearing a necklace." "Hey, ease off," Nick said. "It was a present from Priscilla." "It looks nice, Nick," Lyle said. "You've got nice taste, Priscilla. A real woman's eye, I guess, huh?" "Yeah, well, anyway." Paul said. "Let's see how many times this real man over here can put up with being beaten by a girl." Somewhere in the middle of the first match, Paul realized, with a start, that almost without thinking about it, he had stopped 'playing the part' of Priscilla and had simply become Priscilla. Not that had ever forgot he was really a man, there were far too many new sensations that came with occupying Priscilla's body for him to get used to that quickly, from the ticklish feeling of the air circulating around his bare legs and midriff to the necessity of maintaining his balance on his sandals to the sound of his higher voice, now much more prone to squeals and giggles, in his ears?but his enticingly feminine Priscilla behaviour was becoming more natural, more automatic, with each passing minute. Maybe it was the knowledge that his female disguise really was impenetrable that did it. Lyle got so flustered every time Paul so much as spoke to him now, and Dan behaved so jealously at the thought that Nick could have landed such an amazing looking woman, it was obvious they thought he was a woman, through and through, and that nothing Paul did could possibly ruin the illusion. And, without having to worry about keeping up an act, suddenly Paul stopped thinking about it as an act and just started having fun and doing whatever felt natural. Even behaving as Nick's infatuated girlfriend felt pretty natural, they would kiss whenever one of them sank a ball, and hold hands and chat whenever they wanted to psych one of their opponents out. Occasionally, Paul would even play the helpless female and ask for Nick's advice on how to execute a particularly difficult shot, it was delicious to feel Nick stand right behind him, his crotch against his ass, as he instructed him on how to hold the cue. (Actually, Paul was a much better pool player than Nick was, but he got the feeling Nick enjoyed the charade of playing the expert just as much as Paul did.) The icing on the cake was the fact that Paul and Nick won every single game, much to Dan's great displeasure. The cheap bastard had always hated having to pick up a check, and here he was, having to buy round after round of drinks. Lyle didn't seem to mind, though?he made a big show of handing Paul his glasses and, as he got drunker, coming up with funny little toasts in honour of the new love in Nick's life. Those toasts were actually kind of inspired? Paul had no idea Lyle could be so clever with words that way. Of course, he was getting pretty drunk, too; at the end of one game, as he sunk the eight ball for what must have been the sixth time that night, he did a triumphant little victory spin, only to lose his balance on his shoes and fall into Dan's lap. He collapsed into giggles, and as he tried to stand up, he felt Dan's hand around his waist holding him there. "Hang on, hang on," Dan said. "Stay a while." In his drunken state, the absurdity of the situation?Dan the slickster lawyer getting turned on by his dumpy friend Paul sitting in his lap?seemed especially hilarious, and Paul started laughing helplessly. "What's so funny?" Dan said. "What do you think's so funny about me? Am I tickling you?" He started tickling Paul's side and under his arms. Paul was too drunk to be upset; he just started laughing even hardly than before and wriggling around in Dan's lap. "Let her go," Nick said. "Yeah, Dan, enough's enough," chimed in Lyle. "Let her go." "What? We're just having fun. Aren't we, Priscilla?" "It's okay, fellas," Paul said. "But I've got to go to the little girls' room, okay, big guy? So let me go." Dan paused for a second and then opened his arms like a philanthropist. "Go ahead, sweetie," he said. "Powder your nose." Paul stood up, a little awkwardly. As he regained his balance, straightening his top and tidying his hair, he saw that the three men were all gathered around him again, just as they'd been at the start of the night. This was the flipside of all that attention, Paul realized?he was no longer the beautiful female interloper they were all content to be charmed by; there was now an undisguised mood of sexual desire in the air, and Paul sensed that if the world or these men were just a little less civilized, nothing would have stopped them from throwing him onto the pool table and having their way with him. "Excuse me," he said, and trotted off to find the ladies' washroom. His destination was located at the end of a short corridor at the other end of the bar. The bar had gotten a lot more crowded since Paul and Nick had arrived, and he had to squeeze his way past a lot of bodies, a lot of male bodies, in order to complete the trip. Not that any of the men he passed seemed to mind the interruption; at least most of them were so dazzled by how Paul looked and how skimpily he was dressed to give him much trouble. Paul entered the washroom, which was empty except for a slightly dumpy-looking woman touching up her makeup by the mirror. Paul felt a momentary pang of guilt for having dismissed her so instinctively as someone unlikely to give him much competition in the looks department; he'd experienced firsthand just how awestruck and obsessed even the nicest men are by a pretty woman, and he wondered what life must be like for someone as plain as the girl at the mirror. How frustrating it must be for her, Paul thought as he ducked into a stall. Or maybe it would be a relief, not having every man in the room swooning over you. But Paul was unable to pursue this line of philosophical thinking any further, since he quickly became preoccupied by the task of escaping from his skirt and figuring out how to pee like a girl. This was his first sight of his newly acquired dick less anatomy, and he kind of wished he wasn't so drunk so that he could appreciate the miraculousness of his transformation a little more deeply. Truthfully, urinating, as a girl didn't feel as dramatically different as Paul thought it would?a little more... diffuse, maybe, but basically the same. Once that was over with, he took a handful of toilet paper and wiped himself as the words, 'Can you spare a square? I haven't got a square to spare' echoed in his mind. God, what was it with all these Seinfeld references that kept occurring to him tonight? Finally, he put his thong back into place (it was pink and satiny but full of complicated little details made of ribbons and lace; Paul really had to credit Nick or the necklace or the ring with the amount of detail it had put into this body and all his clothes, he was even noticing now he had all sorts of little beauty marks and dimples that he'd never owned before), pulled up his skirt and exited the stall, pausing to inspect his appearance in the mirror. Little Miss Dumpy had gone, meaning he now had the washroom to himself. Once again he struck a few poses in the mirror, pouting his lips, playing around with his belly ring, sticking out his ass, lifting up his top and flashing himself with his own tits. He had a hell of a rack, that was for sure, topped off by a pair of big, brown nipples. He began stroking one of his breasts, watching in a drunken haze as the nipple puckered and hardened. He was just about to reach down his skirt and keep his other hand occupied when the sound of someone stumbling down the corridor just outside the ladies' room door snapped him to his senses. He shook off his masturbatory mood as best he could, gave himself one last glance in the mirror and stepped outside. To his surprise, Dan was there, leaning against the wall with one arm and blocking the path back to the main part of the bar. "Hey there, Priscilla," he said. "Dan! What are you doing, standing there?" "Waiting for you," he said. His hair was messed up and his face was flushed. Paul looked around, but no one else could see them, the corridor was empty, angled in just such a way that they were isolated from the main room. "Oh," he said uneasily. "Is there something I can do for you?" "Yeah," Dan said. "I wanted to ask you a question." "Well, go ahead." "Well, Priscilla, I've been wondering all night... what are you?" Paul's stomach did a little flip. Had he seen through the disguise somehow? Had he done something under the influence of all that alcohol that had tipped Dan off a