Lightning in a BottleChapter 16 Prom Outcasts
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Voices II -- Outcasts free porn video
Voices-- The Outcasts
Author's Note: This is not a sequel to Voices, but shows how the
changes in that story impacted a different group of characters. The
original story was told from the perspective of a girl who was a member
of a secret society of witches who decided to cause all the men and
women in the world to trade secondary sex characteristics. It is
available on Fictionmania.
We were at a concert when it happened. It was in an old warehouse in
the boarded up crap town we lived in out in Iowa. Speed metal. None
of that pussy emo. Not for me, Cassady, and Ty, my boyfriend. Not for
any of the freaks at school.
The band sucked. But in the best way possible. A bunch of stoners and
drop outs. They played loud and hard. Heads shaved. Tattoos covering
every inch of their bodies. We were dancing, the air smelled sweetly
of grass and booze and sex.
"I wanna kill some jocks," the singer growled. "I wanna bring down
Ragnarock... I... " and then the strangest thing happened. His voice
suddenly changed from a deep, animal growl, into a high, squeaky
screech, like Minnie Mouse on the rag. He stopped singing. Shook his
head. "This is the end of...."
We stopped dancing. The band stopped and gathered on the stage. "What
the hell?" Stone said, in a soft, high-pitched voice. I laughed,
thinking he was joking, but when I turned to him I saw the shock on his
face. "My voice!" He chirped. And all around the room I heard the
same thing from all the guys, all suddenly sounding like little girls.
The singer came to the mic. "I don't know what's going on," he said in
his little voice. "None of us really do. But what we do know is this-
- nothing is going to stop us from rocking!" And with that, the
drummer slammed out a wild beat on his kit, the guitars blasted in and
we all shrieked, sounding like a bunch of pre-teen girls at a Taylor
Swift concert.
After the concert, Ty and I sat in his car, smoking grass. He kept
clearing his throat. "What the hell?" He kept saying. "This is
bullshit."
I can't explain it, but for some reason I found him sexier than ever.
I kissed him. Kissed him again. "I like it," I said.
He just grunted and stuck his hand up my shirt.
It was the same everywhere. My step father. Teachers at school. All
the other boys. It was so strange hearing those cute little voices
coming out of them. And it made me.... it... I couldn't explain it,
but then I was talking to my friend Cassie, and she said, "It makes
them all seem to cute and adorable, doesn't it? It makes we want to
protect them."
The next week we went to the football game. We never watched the game.
We just went behind the bleachers and smoked and snuck booze while
ducking all the dickish teachers who came around to try and hassle us.
It was all just a ritual leading up to the point where Ty would end up
fighting someone. That was when it happened.
"Why don't you shut up?" Ty said to Kevin.
"Why don't you make me?"
We all started forming a circle around them. I looked at Cassie, who
smiled, knowingly. The tough talk sounded like a comedy routine coming
out of them now in those little girl voices.
Ty shoved Kevin. Kevin threw down the plastic cup he'd been drinking
out of, and after two quick punches they grappled, but as they wrestled
we all watched, amazed, as their bodies began to... shrink... each
becoming more and more slender, Ty's arms, which had been roped with
muscle, grew thin and round, his pants started to fall off. Kevin
grabbed at his own pants and Ty took the opportunity to deliver an
awkward punch to his head, but his little fist seemed to have no power,
and Kevin, pissed, punched him in the gut, equally without force.
They both looked shocked and ashamed, but then charged at each other,
shrieking in girlish fury.
Then Cassie stepped in. "Knock it out." She effortlessly shoved Kevin
to the ground, then put Ty in an arm lock and forced him to his knees.
"Let me go!" Ty squealed.
I could feel myself growing stronger. More powerful. But I just
watched. It never occurred to me to rush in and protect Ty from
another girl, at least not yet. Plus, and I didn't fully understand
this until later, I was kind of getting off on seeing Ty dominated like
that by little Cassie.
"Tell me your my bitch," Cassie said.
"Fuck you," Ty said, but Cassie twisted harder and he screamed.
"Okay. Okay. I'm your bitch!" Cassie let him go, and I ran to him
and put my arms around him. He was crying. I put my arm around his
waist and led him away, to someplace private. He hugged me and put his
head on my shoulder. He felt strange in my arms. His body so thin.
"Stop," I whispered. "Hush. It's okay."
"I just got beat up by a girl," he said. "It's not okay."
But I kissed his tears away. Later, we sat in the car down by the
reservoir, smoking a joint. I had driven. Ty had been too upset. We
were listening to a CD, not talking, both trying to get used to this
strange new reality.
The next week was brutal for Ty. He had always been a little bit of a
bully. Constantly picking fights. Now, the girlfriends of all the
guys he's ever beaten up were seeking him out at school. They didn't
usually hit him or start fights. They would just block his path, yell
at him, grab his wrists and push him against a wall just to show them
how weak he was, while their boyfriends looked on, laughing. His
little sister also had her fun. He'd always been mean to her, mostly
because she was a little bitch, and now she was paying him back,
wrestling him to the ground, pushing him. Taking his things. One day
I came to his house and found him in his room wearing a pink floral
dress and crying, his mascara running down his face. "Ann," he said,
covering his face in shame. "She beat me up and made me wear this.
She says from now on when I am at home I have to wear a dress and make-
up."
I went downstairs and took care of Ann. I was three years older than
her, stronger and taller. She backed down, though it wouldn't matter
in a little while. In any case, she then taunted Ty for needing his
girlfriend to protect him. It was the same at school. Ty clung to me,
usually holding my hand as I walked him to class. I got in a couple
fights, and soon word got around not to mess with Ty's girlfriend. He
was humiliated, and it all took a toll. Everything about him became
more... girly. Instead of, "we're going into town. Come on," he would
say, "Um, can we go into town? I think it might be fun?" Half of
everything he said came out as a question.
And it especially changed when we made out. I was the aggressor,
making all the moves. Ty struggled prettily, but surrendered, sighing
softly as I made out with him, pushing him onto his back, pinning his
slender wrists over his head.
We went out into the cornfields one night and made love. I kissed him
and teased him, and climbed on top and took him while he squealed and
moaned just like a girl, and as I rode him, the strangest thing
happened-- his hair just seemed to grow, flowing out around him in
thick, black waves, framing his face so prettily as he lay on his back,
eyes closed, lost in please. I finished and rolled off, and Ty drifted
off to sleep, like he usually did. I looked at him there, his long
black hair glossy in the moonlight, and decided I liked this latest
change.
Ty woke later. Sat up and was surprised at the mass of thick waves and
curls that now hung halfway down his back. "Now what?" He said. He
reached up with his slender arms and ran his hands through his hair,
pulling it back over his shoulders. I watched. Smirking.
"What?" He said.
"You just look so sexy when you do that," I answered.
"Shut up!" He said, playfully slapping my shoulder.
I sat up and gently took a lock of his hair in my fingers. With my
other hand I brushed his bangs from his eyes. "I love your hair," I
said.
Ty's eyes grew soft. We kissed some more. After, he started rummaging
through my purse.
"What are you looking for?"
"A brush," he said, pulling my brush from the bag. I watched,
blissfully, as my boyfriend sat with his knees pulled up to his chest,
contentedly brushing his long black hair beneath the moon and stars.
He was humming a song. I searched for the melody and realized it was
Beyonce. Not that I would ever admit to knowing such a song to the
rest of the stoners, but it was a good song, and so sweet that Ty was
humming it.
The next day, he came over to my house, plopped down in front of my
vanity and perkily said, "show me what to do with all this hair!"
I am hardly the girl to really show someone a whole bunch about hair,
but I could show him how to braid it, so I did. I never thought I
would bond with Ty over hair styling tips, but it was a sweet, intimate
afternoon, with me carefully braiding his hair, and then pulling it
down and letting him try, the whole time his face lit up with feminine
pleasure and excitement. I showed him a French braid, too, and then we
tied his hair back in a ponytail with one of my scrunchies, and climbed
into bed to make out, Ty giggling prettily as we kissed.
I guess the whole, like, world or whatever was totally flipping out
over what was happening, but we were never really into the news. We
just saw it where it was happening in our lives. My step dad had hair
down to his waist, and it was two days before he dyed it all blonde to
cover the gray. All the guy teachers at school now had long hair,
pinned up in sensible professional styles, and boys, including Ty, were
fascinated with websites and magazines about hair styles, and what was
trendy and pretty. I got sick of listening to him talk about different
stars and their new hairstyles sometimes.
And then something else happened. I woke up to find out I was six feet
tall. I'd been 5 feet, 6 inches. I went downstairs and found my mom
was about the same height, while good ole step dad was now a tiny
little 5' 4". "Everyone?" I said, though I figured I knew the answer.
"Everyone," my mother answered, putting an arm around Step-dad's
shoulder and kissing him on the head.
"You look cute," I said to him.
He smiled bitterly. "Thanks."
I wonder now that I didn't wonder more then. It was all so impossible,
and yet each time there was shock and surprise, but also just a calm
kind of acceptance. It was like my brain was saying-- of course all
the guys are small and weak and have long hair-- that's the way it was
supposed to be. So, we all just went with it as best we could.
For example, you would think all of these little boys would have stayed
home, cowering in their rooms, but they all came to school, all
blushing and ashamed and humiliated, but they came. And, much to my
surprise, many of them came wearing girl's clothes. Not dresses or
skirts. Yet. But girl's jeans. And in some cases even shirts, though
the most androgynous ones they could find. Others were still in their
old clothes, or clothes that had belonged to their little brothers.
The ones in the old clothes looked silly-- like little kids playing
dress up in clothes that now hung like sacks from their diminutive
bodies, pants and sleeves rolled up. The only boys who really weren't
affected were those poor little guys who still hadn't gone through
puberty. They looked about the same but for their hair.
I waited for Ty over where he always got off the bus, and when he
stepped gingerly down I saw him looking apprehensively around, his dark
glossy bangs in his eyes. He looked like he was five feet tall now.
Just. As soon as he saw me, he got a big smile of relief and ran over,
throwing himself in my arms. He was wearing his old clothes, of
course. But he looked totally like a girl now. A skinny girl, but a
girl.
"Ty," I said, brushing his hair back from his eyes, leaning down to
kiss him on the forehead. "What's that all about?"
He clung to me, and it was good to hold him in my arms, so small and
dainty. "Look at me," he said. "I've been turned into a child."
"You probably would get carded trying to get into a PG-13 movie now," I
said. Later that week, he did.
"Shut up," he said.
And then I did what girls all over campus were doing, impulsively. I
picked my little boy friend up and threw him over my shoulder. Ty
shrieked. "Put me down! Stop it." He threw pretty little punches at
my back, but I carried him all the way to class and then set him gently
at the door.
"Thanks for adding to my humiliation," he said with a pout.
I gave him a little chuck under the chin. "You loved it."
"Like hell," he answered, but his ears and nose were pink, and I could
see how thrilled he had been.
Gradually, more and more males started to wear girl's clothes as the
week progressed. I couldn't help but tease my step-dad a little the
first time I saw him in one of my mom's skirts. Ty resisted. He told
me his sister had offered him some stuff, "but I am never going to
start getting that girly, no matter how much I change. She'd love
that."
I didn't say anything. I just smiled and waited for what my instincts
told me was inevitable. I could see him checking out what the other
guys were wearing, looking wistfully when some guy passed in a cute
pair of boots, or a really pretty blouse.
I was surprised later, when we were making out, to find that his tats
had vanished. Or rather been replaced. Skulls and dragons had given
way to flowers and hearts.
We were sitting around outside during lunch break one day, and Cassie
came walking up with Kevin. He was clinging to her arm, his face
framed with brown curls, wearing a wool, tartan skirt, knee length
high-heel boots that hugged his slender calves, a white blouse and the
cutest little jacket. "Ohhhhh," Ty said, greeting Kevin with a hug.
"I love your outfit! And those earrings!"
Kevin did a half-curtsey, and said, "thanks!"
Cassie smirked at me, and when Ty looked back I could see the shock and
shame on his face at his reaction. "You should dress prettier," Kevin
said, trying to be helpful.
Ty was wearing some of his old, too big clothes. "Yes," Cassie said,
" you should."
Ty looked at me. He often looked at me, taking cues from me on how he
should react. I took his soft little hand in mine and pulled him onto
my lap. "Ty is just fine as he is." He kissed me gratefully and slit
his eyes at Cassie.
In biology class, Mr. Smith was standing in front of the room talking
about primary and secondary sex characteristics. I don't know if he
planned it all along, or if things had just made him feel the need.
He'd been one of the football coaches-- a big, burly guy with a barrel
chest and huge biceps. The girls had all been in love with him. Now,
he was about 5' 5" in his heels. He stood in front of the class with
his blonde hair pinned up, bangs and curls surrounding his face,
earrings flashing, a tight little black skirt and a black turtleneck
that emphasized his long, slender neck. Frosty pink lipstick that
matched his nails. I could kick his ass now, I thought, looking at his
puny arms. But I would rather just fuck him.
"So," he continued, "while things like height, hair and muscle mass can
be associated with a certain sex, they are not primary sex
characteristic. In other words, as far as our biology goes, men are
still men, and women are still women."
"I like your skirt," a girl said from somewhere behind me.
"Oh," he thanks, smoothing the front, "thanks! My wife...." then he
stopped, realizing it had been a joke. The class laughed, while he
stood there blushing prettily.
By Saturday night I decided to take charge. Ty and I were supposed to
go to another show at the dungeon, so when I picked him up, I told him
I had forgotten something. I led him to my room, where I had laid out
his outfit for the night on my bed. "No way," he said. "No!"
He argued. He pouted. What was left of the male in him screamed and
wanted to run. But I won out. Ty put on the black lace panties. He
put on the black taffeta skirt. He put on the red and black,
embroidered bustier, the garters and the stockings. And then he sat as
I did his make-up, turning him into the hottest little metal boy in
town. When he was done, I led him by the hand to my full length
mirror. His mouth fell open. He stared. And then a big, pretty smile
spread across his glossy red lips as he threw his arms around me and
gave me a hug. He turned back and looked at the mirror again, putting
a hand on his hip and another to his cheek. "I look... wow! Thanks."
"I put my arms around his waist and lifted him off his feet. "Let's
rock," I said.
Later, after we'd made out for... I don't even know how long.... Ty
was touching up his lipstick in the vanity mirror. He'd been showered
with compliments all night, and gotten so much attention from all the
other girls I was a little jealous. He looked at me and smiled. I'd
done his eyes with dark eye shadow and heavy mascara and eye-liner, and
they really popped in the dim light from the dashboard. "I've been
wanting to, you know."
"What?"
"Dress like the other boys. Wear prettier things. But I just
couldn't."
"Because your sister would make fun of you?"
"Because you never dressed sexy. You were always in jeans and t-
shirts. I thought you would think I was a woose."
I should have. I should have thought of him as a woosie the first time
he ran to me and wanted me to protect him from a girl who was going to
beat him up. Or, for that manner, when he started talking like a anime
chick. But, I didn't. I just wanted him to be the sweet, sexy
feminine boy he was meant to be. And I told him so.
I walked him to his door. He took my hands. "Kevin and I are going
shopping tomorrow."
"Maybe you should wait," I said.
"Why?"
"There might be more changes."
"What more changes could there be? About the only thing left would
be..." and again there was that pretty look of surprise as it hit him.
"Boobs," I finished, glancing down at his slender, hairless chest.
He crossed his arms defensively over his chest as if they were already
there. "You don't really think..."
"I kinda do," I said, then kissed him. "Goodnight."
Was it a premonition? A lucky guess? It felt to me like a truth.
Like something that was going to happen as sure as the sun would rise.
And so it was only a partial surprise and delight to me when I woke up,
went downstairs and saw my poor little step-father standing at the
counter, the outline of his bra visible beneath his blouse, little pert
A-cups on his chest. Not surprised, but disappointed. I was hoping
the jerk-off would sprout a pair of DDs.
It became known as Coat Day. All the boys showed up, hiding their
pretty clothes under baggy old jackets. The girls had a field day,
teasing them, reaching under their coats to snap their bras, all in all
hassling them. And another delicious little factoid spread through the
school like wildfire: dads with young babies were not breast feeding.
That would be a boy's job from now on. Or at least one we could share.
And that led to a whole new round of teasing.
Of course, I couldn't wait to get Ty back to my bedroom. I bullied him
into taking off his blouse, and we made out for awhile with him just in
his little white training bra. Several times, I reached up and
squeezed one of his new boobs, and he squealed and slapped my hand
away, or put it back down on his smooth, rounded thigh. Before too
long, I sat and watched as he reached back and undid his bra, letting
the straps slide from his shoulders and looking away bashfully as his
perky young breasts swayed free. I felt a rush like I never expected
and whispered, hoarsely, "you are so sexy."
Ty smiled and leaned forward for a kiss, accepting this latest change,
he took one of my hands and placed it on his naked breast. I caressed
it. Squeezed it. Played with his nipples. He sighed softly, his eyes
closed, earrings flashing as he threw his head back and gasped.
For a time, it seemed like that would be it, as the boys gradually got
over their shyness, and started to walk around campus without hiding
their little breasts. But then they started to blossom. Those little
girl boobies swelled, becoming B and C cups, and in a few cases even
Ds. Meanwhile, their hips fleshed out, nice and wide and round, and
their legs took on an even softer, rounded appearance, even as their
faces grew prettier and more feminine.
I saw the former captain of the football team walking across campus one
day in his cheerleader's outfit, a tight sweater showing off his full
breasts, the little pleated skirt his slender, tone, tan legs. He had
platinum blonde hair and was all made up in glossy bubblegum pinks,
looking for all the world like a real-life Barbie doll.
Ty ended up with a perfect pair of C cups, a size bigger than mine.
And my step-dad? He got the DDs I had wished for him, and then I
almost regretted it as he never stopped complaining about backaches.
And so it went as the school year ended and summer began. We got used
to the new order of things. Men adjusted to being pretty and
vulnerable, emotional and insecure. Women got used to being big and
strong and taking care of the sweet little men in their lives.
And then, almost as suddenly as it had started, it all ended.
Gradually, almost all the guys returned to normal. So did all the
girls. I did say almost. Ty and I didn't. Ty was shocked, confused,
angry and embarrassed at first, scared even, as all his guys friends
put away their purses and their dresses, their lipstick and their
blush, and went back to being men-- big, tall, strong men. But there
was Ty as the summer ended, a pink and white summer dress clinging to
his curves, a white straw hat and a matching purse dangling from his
slender arm as was walked along the beach. "Why are we stuck like
this?" he said. "Why?"
"I don't know, sweety," I said, putting an arm over his smooth, slender
shoulders, comforting him. "But let's just make the best of it."
And we did.
Grace
- 12.01.2021
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