Just West Of Happy, Part 3 free porn video

Warning: This story contains MATURE THEMES including nudity, sex, sexualization, and vulgar language. Do not read if you are under 18 or if it is otherwise restricted for you to do so. If you wish to share this story, contact me at [email protected]. I will likely agree, I just want to know in advance. This is part 3 of Just West of Happy and finally, THERE IS TG IN THIS CHAPTER! REJOICE! I finally felt like I'd reached the appropriate level of characterization of Ian that there would be some significance to the transformation. The full transformation is right at the end, but it will be explored in part four. This is easily the longest of the chapters so far and I apologize for that (it's about as long as the other two combined). Just West of Happy, Part 3 By: Whimsy It had been an unbelieveable day so far. Not only had I just had sex for the first time the night before (and gotten my first kiss, oddly enough), but I'd also found the girl who'd driven 700 miles just to meet me was a witch. I was skeptical at first, but now, laying here with a girl who'd had two vastly different cup sizes in the span of about an hour, with a penis that was easily five inches longer than it had been when I'd woken up this morning, it was hard to deny the facts. It was also hard to deny the facts that I had pretty much signed away my free will to this girl. Laying there nude with her pressed up against me, both of us half dozing after our first magically-enhanced sex session, I couldn't help but notice the glint of sunlight off our the rings on our fingers, one gold (hers), the other silver (mine). I didn't fully understand what the deal was with them, but I knew one thing: the gold one on her finger gave complete control over pretty much every aspect of the wearer of the silver ring. My ring. I had living proof of that every time I so much as moved, feeling the weight of that massive snake in my crotch. The fact that she had left it there and given me a mischevious grin, the only kind I ever expected from her, when I'd asked if she could turn it back to normal just proved my predicament. If I said I was completely ok with this arrangement, I would be lying. However, if I said this was a horrible arrangement, I would also be lying. I was conflicted about what I had agreed to, but it had been the first truly compulsive thing I'd ever done in my life. And I could still remove the ring of my own free will for the rest of the day. After today, however, I would be completely at her whim. As tired as I was, I couldn't sleep. I contented myself to remove and replace the ring from my finger idly several times as I considered the predicament I found myself in. I couldn't blame Melinda for wanting to sleep. After all, she'd just gotten fucked by the biggest cock I'd ever seen. And I was no stranger to some seedy websites. For my--ahem-- research. I gently extracted myself from around her and padded around my room. My eyes rested for a moment on her suitcase she'd been wheeling around with her ever since she arrived here. I'd personally seen her remove the box containing our two rings, a week's worth of munchies, and a full-sized tent from this thing--her first proof that she was, in fact, a witch. I no longer had any doubt that this was the case. Not when I felt my member slapping heavily against my legs every time I moved. I'd always been self conscious about my rather small penis, but this was ridiculous. I glanced at her for a moment, wondering if I dared wake her up to ask her to put my manhood back to rights, but decided against it. Part of me knew she would just giggle at me, perhaps even initiate another love- making session that, on the one hand I did want, but on the other hand wasn't sure either of us could handle again so soon. Another part of me just wanted to let her rest. She was undoubtedly feeling sore and extremely tired. Still another part of me felt like continuing to ask her to undo her trickery undermined the whole idea behind this little game. She was my master, I thought with a small, tight smile, looking at my ring. It wasn't for me to tell her to do anything. I sighed and stepped into my boxers. There was no telling how long she would be unconscious--for that's how she looked, not asleep, but unconscious--and I felt like I could get in a quick shower before she woke up. I wanted to try going out again with her tonight, not that it was up to me. She would be making the decisions for us. But if she did want to go out on another date, I wanted to be presentable. I hadn't had more than one date before Melinda showed up in my life, and that was an unmitigated disaster. My boxers, which had fit just fine mere hours before were now extremely tight in the front, and I had to arrange my engorged penis to be hanging down one of the legs. I did my best not to look at Melinda, knowing that seeing her lying naked there would probably just exasserbate the issue by making my penis hard as a rock again. And then there would be no garment in the world that could contain it. I thought unsexy thoughts as I grabbed my towel and started out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom. I hoped no one would be showering but, while I had the good fortune of having my own room (the senority of being a junior with no friends who wanted to get an apartment), I still had to share a bathroom. Fortunately, this seemed to be the case. It wasn't even yet 2:00 and most people were either grubbing around in their rooms or had showered earlier. Certainly some of the swingers would be getting ready for parties soon, but I likely had hours before that became a problem. I began the shower and hung my boxers up on the wall, letting the stream become warm. Within moments, I was lathering up my shampoo and running it through my straw-blonde hair. I'd never cared much for my hair, it had always been somewhat stringy and lackluster, not the sort of glimmering gold locks one might expect from a blonde, even a man. After a few minutes, I heard the bathroom door open and close. I didn't think the worst immediately, after all, people came in to use the bathroom all the time. However, the curtain for the communal shower was thrown open after a moment and George Worthington stepped in. George was a year younger than me, but we already had something of an antagonistic relationship. He was your typical prep, a member of the most prestigious fraternity, in college on a full-ride athletic scholarship, star player on every sports team that mattered, and a hit with the ladies at any party. All the ladies. He was pretty much the antithesis of me, and he was handsome to boot. I tried to avert my gaze, but I'd forgotten about my little "problem." Even though bathroom ettiquete demanded we neither look at each other nor speak to one another, there was no avoiding the thing hanging between my legs and I could feel George staring at me with wide eyes. "Damn, West," he said in a derisive voice in clear defiance of just about every possible rule of bathroom behavior, "you been eating your vegetables or something? I know for a fact you weren't that big or you'd have to fucking slouch when you walk!" I didn't respond immediately, but something about my past few days emboldened me and I muttered, more than said, "Why, do you often spend time thinking about my penis?" The silence in the shower was so thick you could cut it with a spoon. Even the spatter of the water seemed drowned out by the tension. I'd almost hoped he wouldn't have heard my comment, but no such luck. "Too bad you're not a man where it counts," he said, turning and staring me down. It was the sort of posturing I'd come to expect from jocks. He was using his body against me, standing there, naked, without a lick of shame, his powerful muscles a reminder of what he could do to me, better than me in every single way. Every way except one. "More of a man than you, it seems," I said without looking at him. I really wasn't sure what made me say it. Possibly I was feeling emboldened, more mannish, because I had a beautiful woman waiting in my room for me, a woman that I'd just gotten done having sex with no fewer than four times unless I lost count (which might have been possible given how much time I'd been unconscious). Possibly I was just plain sick of being pushed around and was starting to feel like I might be worth something as a man. Possibly my enlarged member was increasing my testosterone count. Whatever the case, I was immediately regretting it. I could feel him staring at me one moment, then breathing down my neck the next. "You wanna say that again?" he asked in a hot, tight voice. I quickly shook my head and muttered something that even I couldn't hear. But it was too late. The damage was already done. He grabbed my shoulder and turned me around, shoving me against the wall, "I'm talking to you, fag," he said, practically spitting in my face. "Your boyfriend pay for you to have surgery or something? That it? Maybe you can actually please him now?" "Sh-Should I be asking you for pointers on pleasing men?" God, what the hell was wrong with me? For a moment, he just stared at me, as if he couldn't believe I had the balls to say such a thing. But he apparently decided that I did, and that I needed to be punished for it. It was over mercifully quick. He pulled his arm back and let it fly, his fist connecting to my jaw and sending me sprawling painfully on the ground, spitting out blood. "I see you in here again and I do worse," he spat. "Now get the fuck out." I didn't need telling twice. The pain of the punch had stolen any cheek I might still have left. I slinked out of the room, still lathered with shampoo in my hair, not daring to even look up. I didn't even bother putting my boxers back on. I just held the towel to my crotch, feeling my manhood harden despite it all. I cursed softly under my breath, any good feelings I'd had fleeing with the pain and humiliation of it all. Even more embarrasing, when I returned to the room, Melinda was awake and perusing my computer. "Aww, you kept copies of all of our roleplays?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder. She blinked, immediately seeing the lather and, somewhat longer than immediately seeing the growing bruise on my cheek. "Oh, Ian! What happened?" she cried, standing up and bouncing over to me to examine my jaw. "Just a...wild gorilla in the shower," I muttered, shame etched on my features. God, even with everything going my way, nothing went my way. I was surprised to suddenly feel the pain and swelling vanish. I reached up to touch my cheek, confused. It felt completely normal. I also couldn't feel a single drop of water or lather on me anywhere. It was as if I'd finished my shower and was squeaky clean. And had never been punched by a raging idiot. Melinda gave me a weak smile, "Complete control," she reminded me, pointing at the ring on her finger. "I told you, I would never let anything hurt you. What happened?" I shook my head, "It's nothing," I said moodily, feeling embarassed and ashamed. Why did I think that everything would be better with a girlfriend? I tried to tell myself that even if everything was still shitty, at least I had her as one good thing, but it was cold comfort as humiliated as I was feeling. "Ian," she said warningly. "Tell me." I hesitated a moment, but still just shook my head. I really didn't want to share that with her. But she was having nothing of it. She stood up, somehow intimidating despite the fact that she was a mousy, lithe girl, a naked one at that, "Tell me." she said again, but there was a resonance in her voice and I felt compelled in a way that was impossible to explain. I just knew that I could not resist this command. "I wanted to shower before you woke up so we could go out for lunch," I found myself blurting out, surprising even myself. "A guy came in and saw my...thing..." I blushed a bit, but continued. "He was jealous and gave me shit. I...uh...gave him shit back, I guess. I don't know why I did it, I was just...sick of it..." I looked down, feeling rather pathetic to admit that this was a common occurrence. "He didn't like me showing some backbone, so he punched me." She watched me with a mix of pity and, I was shocked to see, admiration, "Oh baby," she cooed, kissing my cheek. "I'm glad you stuck up for yourself! But...this is my fault," she sighed. "He was probably surprised by the size of your package. I should have remembered to normalize it." "Normalize it? You mean turn it back to normal?" I asked, confused. She shook her head with a giggle, "Oh no. I'm keeping it like that for awhile! It's kinda hot," she grinned at me, but plowed on with her explanation. "No, I can normalize any of the changes I make to you so that no one notices. Well," she stopped, tapping her chin. "I mean, they'll notice. But it'll seem normal to them, like you'd always had a giant cock. He might have still given you shit, but more likely he would have remembered seeing you in the shower before, or with a huge lump in your pants every time he saw you, and just let it slide. I'm sorry baby, I'm not used to this yet. I'll make it up to you somehow." She kissed me on the cheek again and stood up, "You said you wanted to go out? Well, let's go!" I couldn't help but smile a bit. Melinda was amazing, simply amazing. I couldn't help but think any other girl would have tried to find the guy that punched me and asked them out to dinner, but she seemed proud of me just for standing up for myself. "What did you say to him?" She asked as she dug in her suitcase for some fresh clothes, snapping me out of my reverie, both by her words and watching her ass wriggle around. "Oh, uh," I tried to recall, "well, when he first mentioned it, I asked him if he spent a lot of time thinking about my penis. Then he said I wasn't a man and I said that I was more man than him apparently," I continued with a bit of a blush. "And, uh, oh, he asked if my boyfriend paid for surgery so I could please him better and I asked if I should have gone to him for advice on pleasing men." Melinda was staring at me by the time I'd finished my recount and suddenly burst into a gigglefit, "Oh god, that is awesome!" she laughed. "No wonder he punched you! You burned him hard!" I couldn't help but smile a bit, emboldened by her praise, "H-Heh, yeah. He's not really the cerebral type. He probably felt it was the only way of getting out of that with his dignity intact. I'll probably have to avoid him for awhile though," I added, rubbing the back of my neck. "It still hurt like a bitch when he punched me, I'd rather not go through it again, even if you can fix me up." "Sometimes I wish I could just...go over to the dark side," Melinda responded grimly, grabbing up a bra and some clean panties, "I hate this stupid rule that we can't use magic on people without their consent. And even with their consent, it's kind of a moral gray area. My parents would be so pissed if they found out what you and I are doing." I was a bit red when I spoke again, "But aren't all the stories about witches full of them, like, turning people into frogs and stuff?" "Well, yeah," she admitted, putting on her bra and stepping into her panties casually, "that stuff is actually kind of easy. But all the bad hype is why we made a vow to never do it. There's a blanket curse on our kind. A few slip ups are ok, but if we start doing too much to other people, bad stuff can happen to us." "W-Wait, you're not going to be cursed or anything for--" I held up my ring as I spoke, but she interrupted by shaking her head. "No, no," she said, waving her hands soothingly. "Like I said, we can perform magic on willing subjects, to heal them or...y'know, have fun. There's technically nothing wrong with what we're doing, it's just iffy territory. You know, like kids hanging out with the wrong crowd and having sex and stuff. It's not illegal, really, it's just not something you'd go home and tell your parents about. Part of the enchantment on the ring ensures that the users have a legitimate, genuine verbal contract," she continued, "otherwise, they wouldn't work." "This stuff sounds complicated," I replied with a heavy sigh. "Is there any way I can learn magic?" This question seemed a bit non-sequitur given what we'd been discussing, but Melinda beamed at me nonetheless, "Not really," she admitted. "I might be able to teach you a couple simple spells. Simple cantrips, you know. But those things are pretty basic. Nothing like what you'd need to make rings like this, or my Infinity Bag," she gestured to the bag at her feet. "I was born with the gift. You weren't." I didn't even think to ask how she knew I wasn't. It just seemed so unlikely that I was "special" in any significant way. Arguing the point simply never crossed my mind. As I began to search around for boxers, I sighed at the weight of my cock. "Can you fix this?" I asked again with a sigh. "Do I have to go out like this?" She giggled at me, watching my manhood in a way that I imagine men stared at women's breasts, "I dunno, I don't think so," she said with a playful grin. "It makes me a little wet to imagine you walking around with that thing in your pants all night." My cheeks grew even redder, "C-Come on," I whined. "Just get rid of it." Her grin turned a bit more mischevous as a look of some dawning idea crossed her features, a look that, for some reason, I didn't much care for. She let out a dramatic sigh, "You sure?" she asked finally. "It was kind of fun having it around." "Yeah," I said hesitantly, warily, "I mean, j-just for now. You can bring it back when we get home if you want." "I might not want to now," she said, tossing me a pair of panties. The ones she'd thrown me earlier that day. "You might want those." I frowned, "Why?" I asked. But I didn't need her to answer. I could already feel that she'd done something to the thing between my legs. But it didn't feel more normal. Far from it, in fact. It felt, if possible, even more alien. I looked down and saw nothing. Not only could I not see my penis, I couldn't see anything down there. I panicked for a moment, patting my crotch. There wasn't anything there. Just a smooth expanse of pubic hair. "M-Melinda!" I cried, panic clear in my voice. She was laughing delightedly, "Be careful what you ask for," she said, grabbing a t-shirt from her pack and throwing it on over her bra. "Or did you forget who wears this?" she added, holding up her hand and gesturing to the ring on her finger. I bit back another protest, and my lip. My heart was hammering against my chest. Making my manhood huge was one thing. It was still something I was used to. But this feeling of blank emptiness between my legs was utterly alien. This felt like real magic. I squirmed my legs a bit. It was strange, like shaving away a beard you'd had for years, something you were so used to feeling all the time but suddenly was just gone. I finally turned and set the panties on the bed, going for my boxers, but she stopped me. "Uh uh," she said, waggling her finger. "You'll wear those and you'll like it, Mister," she said with that triumphant smile on her face. I groaned, but knowing she was completely in control of the situation, and with a slight thrill running up and down my skin, I stepped into my girlfriend's panties. At first, they seemed far too small. I wasn't a big guy around the waist, but Melinda was somewhat lithe. There was no way her clothes would fit me. But as soon as they got up past my knees, they glided up quite easily. "Wow, I can even change the clothes you're wearing," she said with an awed voice. "This is so cool." I looked down. Indeed, she had not changed my body any more than she already had, but, rather, the panties had gotten larger. I glanced to her and was somewhat troubled to see the bright grin on her face. She was enjoying this quite a bit. It surprised me a bit to hear that even she wasn't completely aware of what she could do with this power, that she was still learning. I tried to ignore her stares as I tried to dress in peace, but it was difficult. Sadly, I didn't feel the same arousal I might have not minutes before at having her stare at me, and that troubled me a bit. But I didn't let on and just finished dressing in silence while she watched. The smooth silk of her panties felt good against my bare skin-- I blinked and pulled my unbottoned pants out, followed by the panties only to see a completely bare, empty crotch. I didn't have a single strand of pubic hair. Melinda let out a whooping laugh at my expression and grabbed my arm, "Come on, sweety," she said in a sacharine voice as she pulled me out the door. "I saw a restaurant I want to try out and I am starved." I walked somewhat awkwardly with her, her arms wrapped around my arm, practically dragging me down the hall. As we left my room, I saw George Worthington walking down the hall. He gave me a baffled expression, as if he'd never seen me before--but, more likely he was surprised to see me with a girl. "That him?" Melinda whispered, her voice somewhat cold all of a sudden. I nodded slowly, not daring to make eye contact as his eyes followed us all the way down the hall. Melinda sneered as, just before we turned the corner to head out of the dorm, she turned and flipped George off with a positively wilting expression on her face. Whether he didn't have the time to respond or simply was so shocked that he couldn't, I was never sure, but I swiftly increased my pace at that, not wanting to put Melinda in danger if he decided to retaliate. *** We walked, not to a restaurant, but to Melinda's car, which was still parked outside the coffee shop where we'd met the day before. Every step was a new, foreign experience to me. Far from the busy, crowded feeling I'd had even when I'd had my old manhood, my steps were smooth and uninterrupted by any sort of fleshy intruder. I almost felt myself walking swayingly, like a woman, as if I was walking along a thin line I had to follow. I had to keep reminding myself that I had to keep my legs apart when I walked. Melinda found all of this highly amusing, and every time she caught me walking funny, she just gave me a bright, cheery grin and burst out laughing. I was almost sulky by the time we got to her car. It was a little embarassing to have my girlfriend laugh at me, especially after the already immasculating experiences of the day. "Oh relax," she said with an almost exasperated air as she climbed into the driver seat. "It's all part of the game!" "I know, I know," I said with a sigh, "I just--" "Take off your pants," she said, fully turning to me. "Wh-what?" "Take off your pants," she said, her mischevious grin returning. "I want to see." "But," I looked around. It wasn't even dark out yet and people were walking past the parked car, probably too far away to see in, but I didn't fancy the chance that they might see us. "I'm not sure--" I suddenly felt a chill and realized I had nothing on my bottom half. I was completely naked from the waist down. I quickly fumbled to cover my naked crotch, but Melinda interrupted me by running her own smooth, dainty hands up and down the naked expanse of featureless flesh. Far from looking angry that I'd disobeyed her (or, at least, questioned her), she appeared more curious about her own handiwork. "Wow," she said, a distracted smile on her face as she ran her hands up and down the naked flesh, "This is weird," she looked up at me, her grin returning. "What's it feel like?" "W-Well," i stammered pathetically, looking around to make sure no one was close enough to the car to see, "n-nothing," I admitted. "It doesn't feel like anything. It was kinda disappointing, really. You know, not...getting aroused when you watched me dress and all..." I turned red when I admitted my disappointment, but her grin grew even wider. "You like being watched?" she asked with a playful air to her voice. I sputtered a bit, looking down, but then found that staring at my bare crotch was unsettling, so I looked up to the car's roof instead, "B-By you, yeah..." I said feebly. "Aww," she leaned over and kissed my cheek. "That's so sweet! So you want to be able to feel aroused again?" she asked, sounding sympathetic now. I nodded without really thinking, "Y-Yeah," i said meekly. "It's been weird the past couple days, getting hard all the time, but I liked it..." She nodded understandingly, "Me too," she agreed, pulling my face to hers and kissing me deeply. I got into the kiss, even if I couldn't be aroused by it. There was still something comforting about the warm wetness of her kiss that entices me. After a moment, she parted her lips and began to kiss me deeper, which I responded to eagerly, feeling a welling in my gut. It was at once familiar and completely foreign. I recognized it as arousal, but it was more of a warm, expanding glow than an intense sensation focused on a rapidly hardening section of my anatomy. Melinda didn't break the kiss and nor did I. Strange feelings aside, I recognized the swelling urge of sexual arousal filling me and my body craved this kiss even more, so I let her continue to press her lips to mine. Her hand ran up and down my shirted torso, then down to my bare crotch. I expected to feel her fingers wrap around my returned penis, but then didn't seem to find it as they continued down the mound of flesh where it should have been. That's when things got weird. I felt her fingers tickle at a particularly sensitive part of me, slightly below where my penis should have been. I moaned and squirmed, struggling a bit against the kiss, but she held me to her. And then her finger went inside of me. It was only slightly, but I felt her pull back a fold of skin and slide her finger against a sensitive slit that ran the length of my crotch from about where my balls should have been to close to where my butt began. I flailed, my eyes flying open. She finally let me go, grinning mischeviously at me as her fingers continued to run that expanse of sensitive, moist flesh. I looked down, though I knew I didn't want to. I immediately wished I hadn't. In the kiss, I had subconsciously spread my legs slightly, so now I could see a sight that I hadn't really seen in person until just yesterday. In my new girlfriend's crotch. Only now, it was in my crotch. I had a vagina. A pussy. The folds of skin--the labia a clinical portion of my brain corrected me--were parted slightly and the damp redness of it was quite visible, twitching slightly with the lingering arousal from the kiss. "Now you can feel aroused again," she whispered in my ear, nibbling on the lobe. I looked at her with panic on my face, "M-Melinda!" I yelped, trying to cover my new sex. "Aww, don't cover it," she protested. I was mortified to find that her voice had that weight of command to it and, try as I might, I couldn't obscure my crotch at all. The wetness of it was beginning to feel slightly chilled and I did my best to squirm in a way that would hide it from her piercing gaze, but I realized I couldn't even do that. I couldn't do anything that obscured it from view. "Oh God," I whispered, looking around panicked. People had apparently seen us kissing and were discretely trying to look into the vehicle. It was only a matter of time, I felt, before someone tried to catch a glimpse inside, and I wasn't even ready for my girlfriend to see my female anatomy. I certainly didn't want the world to see it! If George could see me now, I thought grimly. Then I tried not to think about what he might do. "People are looking," she whispered into my ear, kissing lightly at the lobe and nibbling at it, "you like being watched, you said." "B-By you!" I protested, my arms straining almost instinctively to try and cover my shame. She grinned and started the car, sitting back in her seat, "Buckle up, sweety," she said with sacharine sweetness, revving the car and driving off before I even had a chance to do as she asked. "A-Am I going to be half naked through all of dinner now?" I asked, shifting uncomfortably. I thought having nothing down there was the worst, but now I felt a squishy wetness every time I moved. It was even more alien than the absense of anything in my crotch. "I'll think about it," she said with a grin. Melinda drove like a mad woman. In a way, I was grateful, it allowed me to forget my new anatomy as I focused solely on fearing for my life. She seemed to have no regard for her own life or my own as she weaved in and out of traffic, driving down the interstate with as casual a look as you please on her face. I wondered idly if she had some sort of magical protection on the car to protect her from a grizzly fate. "Where are we going?" I managed to choke out, trying to distract myself from--well, everything: the strange feeling in my crotch, the puddle I was leaving on the seat, my impending doom. "It's just a restaurant I saw on the drive in to town," she said, weaving in and out of traffic as she tore down the road a good 20 miles per hour faster than she should have. No wonder she made the trip from Salem to Ohio in only two days. She probably could have done it in one. "Good food, fast service!" she said in a dramatic tone, clearly quoting the sign. She beamed at me, her eyes lingering down on my crotch for a moment before looking back to the road just in time to save us from an untimely demise. My mom had always worried about me getting into an accident with dirty underwear on. How would this look? *** I squirmed uncomfortably the entire ride, trying hard not to think about much of anything but finding it impossible. Foremost in my mind was the peculiar looks I was getting from my girlfriend in the driver's seat beside me. I could appreciate this as some gag, but I couldn't help but feel like her glances were every bit as hungry as the ones she gave me when I had male sex organs, huge or otherwise. I was just about to dredge up the courage to ask when we screeched to a halt, practically throwing me through the windshield. "We're here," she said triumphantly, checking her watch, "and in record time, I might add!" I had barely realized it, but we'd reached Danbury, the next town over. That was close to an hour drive, I thought with a shocked expression, and she'd done it in forty-five minutes. I gave her a shocked look, which she returned with a cattish grin. "Come on!" she said dramatically, throwing her door open. "I'm starving!" The restaurant was nothing particularly out of the ordinary, I realized. A family restaurant with the only noteworthy feature being its location outside of Danbury on the interstate to catch people leaving town. It looked rather run-down, all things considered, and I idly wondered if she just hadn't seen the restaurant on her way into town and if it hadn't just stuck in her mind. Then I realized she was closing her door to leave. "W-Wait!" I cried as she moved to close the door. "I...I'm still not wearing anything!" I don't honestly know why I said it. I doubted she forgot, not the way she was staring at my thighs and what lie between them, "Oh! I'm sorry, sweety," she said with a fair attempt at a surprised look. "I forgot." Almost immediately, I felt the swish of cloth around my legs. I realized too late that it wasn't pants she'd put on me, but a layered skirt. It wasn't a grossly extravegant thing, not poofy and over the top, but it was definitely a skirt. It at least matched my blue t-shirt, but it still looked quite ridiculous on me, and not only because I had the body of a man. I looked up at her with a frankly shocked expression, but she just patted the top of the car, "Come on now," she said. "Before I decide to take it away and make you come in without it." I took a fraction of a second to waffle. Either I went into a semi seedy bar, a man in a skirt, or I stayed in here and risked her removing the skirt and making me come in anyways. Decisions decisions. I realized grimly that there was another option as well. I could still remove the ring. I looked down at the silver ring on my finger and twisted it idly. I could feel Melinda's eyes on me, watching me think it over. But she didn't speak. She didn't make it known that she was watching me. She was letting me make this decision on my own. Finally, I sighed and climbed out of the car, "Are you going to...uh, what did you call it? Normalify?" "Normalize," she said with a small smile, not as mischevious as before, but friendly, gentle even, as if she knew the decision to go along with her was a difficult one, "yes, I will." she said, wrapping her arms around mine and nuzzling my shoulder. "Now come on! I am starving and these places have the best waffles. And I do love me some waffles," she added with a mock hillbilly accent. I gave her a sick little smile. I realized too late that the skirt, which fell just below my knees, didn't come with underwear. I squelched my way into the restaurant with my antagonistic girlfriend on my arm. If I thought walking without anything between my legs was weird, it was nothing compared to walking with this moist slit between my legs with nothing to keep every errant breeze from blowing up into it. Despite the fact that Melinda had said she would normalify or whatever this particular change, I still felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb's sore thumb. This wasn't exactly tolerant country, the midwest. While it's not the cesspool of intolerance and biggotry that people sometimes make it out to be, it's still not the kind of place you want to be "coming out of the closet" without a few people at your back. And I felt like I left the closet with a piece of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of my shoe just then. The skirt was bad enough, but knowing I had a girl's sex underneath it made me feel like I was a walking advertisement for a gay pride parade. And when I entered the dingy diner and saw the manner of clientel we'd be dining with (or at least, dining near), I almost decided to go back to the car. This being the last spot for a decent meal for quite a few miles along the interstate, and coming on early evening, all manner of beefy trucker types were sitting around the place. Of course, Melinda being Melinda, she didn't seem to notice, and flagged down the server to get us seated while I shifted uncomfortably, feeling like every eye in the place was on me, and they might have been for all I knew. I wasn't looking at anything but the ground, which unfortunately gave me a perfect view of my strange new garment. "Oh don't be such a prude," Melinda chided with a playful giggle. "No one is staring at you. As far as they're concerned, your clothes are perfectly normal." She was half right, it turned out. No one was staring at me, but I could tell from a quick look around that they were all muttering about me and casting at least furtive glances in my direction. Maybe my clothes weren't as "normal" as they thought. "Are you sure it looks normal to them?" I asked warily after one particularly burly man gave me a positively wilting glare. It certainly looked like they were watching me. It certainly felt like I wasn't inconspicuous. "Of course!" she said with supreme certainty, but I wasn't so sure. "Can I help you?" The waitress, a rotund, middle-aged woman asked. She was definitely looking me over with an unreadable expression, and I shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "Table for two," Melinda chirped pleasantly, hanging on my arm with a warm smile at the waitress. I was certain then that we were getting strange looks, and I was torn between sticking my head in the sand and ignoring them or glaring right back. I didn't mind that people were disapproving of me, if they indeed were (it was hard to believe with Melinda so confident in her magic that they weren't...I had no reason to believe that her magic wouldn't work the way she intended), but the idea that Melinda was even proximally attached to such disapproval bothered me, even got me a little angry. Melinda, of course, seemed completely oblivious, and I tried to remind myself that I was a particularly paranoid person. I tried to just settle down, but it was difficult given my unique predicament. And then I heard something that pushed me over the edge. We were passing by a table with a pair of truckers, burly types with tattered flannel shirts that barely contained their copious girth and trucker hats on their head, shaggy and unkempt as though they'd spent years on the road without maintaining even the slightest bit of personal hygine, when I heard one of them mutter in what was obviously supposed to be a hushed voice, "Gee howdy, that is the ugliest girl I ever seen," I rounded on them and slammed my hands on the table before I even realized what I'd done. I found myself staring at them almost before I realized it and, for a moment, just continued staring as my brain did its best to catch up with my body's actions. Melinda and the two truckers (as well as a good dozen people nearby) looked positively shocked by my action. "Take it back!" I said in what I hoped was an intimidating voice but realized shortly after the words escaped my lips only managed to sound uncomfortable. Oh well. No taking it back now. "H-Hey, sorry," the man said, quickly fishing some money out of his pocket to lay it on the table and pay the check. Clearly they were trying to beat a hasty retreat. In their defense, they looked somewhat mortified that I'd heard them, which seemed weird. Melinda was the one they should have been worried about hearing them, not me. "We didn't mean nothin' by it, lady," the second man said as they both stood up. "Yeah, it were downright rude of us, ma'am," the first man added, clearly not feeling sorry, but wanting to escape the situation without a conflict. I was confused. Their comments were aimed at me. They didn't even look at Melinda. Not when they were talking and not when they left the restaurant, though they did cast me a wary look as they did. I stood there for a moment, blinking in confusion. Something about that situation seemed off to me, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Melinda, however, seemed to have understood, for she suddenly burst out in a fit of giggles. I blinked at her, but she just grabbed my arm and tugged me along after her, following the waitress, who was doing her best to ignore the conflict that had just nearly happened. I was somewhat dazed and confused. Why didn't they push me around? They were two big guys and I was clearly easily intimidated. If they were committed to insulting Melinda, wouldn't they be commited to defending their insult against a weedy guy like me? And why the hell was Melinda giggling so much? Honestly, she could barely walk. "What is so funny?" I finally asked, trying to ignore the stares. "Don't listen to them," the waitress said finally with a tight smile. "You're...very pretty." I stared at her. She was talking to me. "We'll order in a moment," Melinda said to the waitress, waving her off. She could barely speak for laughing. The waitress, clearly keen to leave the uncomfortable situation, merely nodded and wandered off, leaving me to patiently wait for Melinda to stop giggling so she could tell me what was so damned funny. Finally, exasperated, I leaned in and whispered, "What is so funny? And why is everyone staring at me? I thought you said you normalified this!" I gestured to the skirt. Melinda waved for me to keep my voice down even though I was pretty sure no one could hear me, but still couldn't speak for long moments after I asked the question. She apparently hadn't gotten all the giggles out just yet. Finally, she gave me a cattish grin, "I did," she said in a hushed tone. "I normalized the spell this time. And it worked." "Why is everyone staring at me then?" I asked through clenched teeth. "Haven't you figured it out?" Melinda grinned. I furrowed my brow. "You have a vagina," she said leadingly (as if I needed to be reminded). "And you're wearing a skirt. That's perfectly normal. "For a girl." I blinked uncomprehendingly for a moment, not "getting it." But I wasn't a girl. But they didn't know that. I turned a bright shade of pink, my eyes widening like saucers. "S-So," I managed to choke out through a throat that was far too tight and dry to allow for speaking, "when you...n-normalified--" "Normalized," she said, idly playing with some artificial sweetener packets while watching me deduce the situation, a roguish grin on her face. "Normalized," I corrected, "this change...it made them all think I was a...a..." "A woman," Melinda finished for me. "Welcome to the fairer sex." She burst into a fresh fit of giggles, but waved somewhat frantically, dismissively at me, "I-I'm sorry!" she managed to choke out. "I didn't mean for it to happen like that, but...well, as far as the magic is concerned, you are a girl! You have a vagina--" I still didn't need to be reminded. "--that's really the definition of a girl. Long hair, wide hips, boobs," she bounced her own small chest to illustrate, "they're all part of women too, but the real test of a chick is right between the legs." She pointed between her legs, then squirmed in her seat for a moment and I felt her bare foot pressing between my legs into my moist slit, which caused me to jump. "Got it, Ms. West?" she added, a last jab at my wounded pride. She continued to clumsily rub at my pussy with her foot for a bit, causing me to gasp and slump in my chair, trying to look like it wasn't affecting me, but failing miserably. I could smell my own sex, my own arousal, and for all intents and purposes, it smelled identical to Melinda's the previous night. Fortunately, Melinda's ministrations came at a cost to her comfort as she had to stretch quite awkwardly to get her leg all the way across the distance between us, and even with my extra sensitivity, having had no previous experience dealing with a woman's genitalia, it was really more shocking than truly arousing, so she stopped. I didn't speak. I couldn't. I'd realized that I had suddenly traversed that invisible line between man and woman. I mean, if it weren't for the magic, everyone would still see me as a man. But Melinda was right. I was, in essence, in every way that mattered, a woman. I suddenly blushed even deeper if such a thing were possible. "Does that mean," I finally asked after a moment of silence, my voice slow and somewhat leading, "that everything...inside--?" She nodded, grinning, "The plumbing came along with it," she said, trying to sound casual and dismissive and failing utterly. She was enjoying this. "It would have been extremely hard to keep your old male plumbing with your new female sex. Your pussy," she added with a mischevious grin. She probably did it just to watch me squirm at the word. And squirm I did. We sat in silence for a moment. For the most part, the crowd in the restaurant--who had really only been watching me after my little outburst--had gone back to their own business. Melinda was the only one watching me now. Apparently an ugly girl only warranted some initial gawking. It was, after all, a fairly mundane sight. Though I must have looked an extremely ugly girl to their eyes. This was my only comfort, and it really wasn't much. Melinda finally sighed, "Alright, alright," she said dramatically, throwing up her hands. "I can see this is bothering you, so I'll give you a chance to fix it." Despite myself, I perked up a bit, not even realizing that this was all part of the game. She wasn't going to make it easy. "When I'm done giving you these instructions," she began, her tone serious and business-like, "I want you to get up and go into the bathroom. Two guesses as to which bathroom I want you to go into," she added, holding up a finger and giving me another one of her by-then famous mischevious grins. I gulped--what a cliche thing to do--and turned red, "Let me just take a wild guess--the girl's bathroom," I murmured, trying to sound casual and jesting but feeling like I failed to sound anything other than terrified. "And she didn't even need to use the second guess!" Melinda cooed, reaching over to pat my cheek. The female pronoun use was not lost on me and I shuddered a bit. "I want you to go into the girl's bathroom and take off your skirt. Leave it on the floor in the middle of the bathroom and enter the stall. I want you to sit in the stall with your legs as wide as they can go and wait for me." I shuddered, opening my mouth to protest...but I wasn't a completely slow learner. I knew nothing I said was going to make her change her mind. So I simply closed my mouth again. She seemed to understand what I was about to do and just grinned, "You have a choice, sweety," she said sweetly. "You can sit here and take it if you want." Once again, I felt her foot in my crotch and, despite myself, I jumped up. I could feel a bit of moistness running down my leg and shuddered again, "A-Alright, alright," I said, trying to sound exasperated, like this was all a huge hassle, but failing even at that. "I'm going,"I continued, sliding out from the booth. "How long are you going to be?" I knew it was foolish to ask. Melinda tapped her chin thoughtfully and shrugged, "As long as I feel like," she responded predictably. "I'll order for us both and be in shortly. I'll know if you don't follow my instructions," she added warningly. "There will be punishments if you don't. Oh, but feel free to explore a bit. No cumming though!" I turned an even deeper shade of crimson than I'd already been at the thought of actually playing with myself like this, and tried my best not to look at her as I slinked off to the bathroom, the sex between my legs squishing and squelching with each step. Even that small bit of stimulation was enough to get me damp, I realized with a heavy sigh. I pushed into the bathoom and, true to my luck, found it occupied. I immediately stepped back out into the hall, feeling like an intruder to the woman who was just starting to wash her hands. But even though she'd seen me, she didn't look like one might expect of a woman who'd seen a man start to enter the ladies' room. She gave me a double take at my apparently hideous, masculine visage, but through that same trick of the magic surrounding me, seemed to know I was, indeed, a woman. I stepped into the bathroom and hesitated a moment. The woman was sure taking her sweet time, I thought impatiently, starting for the stall. I didn't know how much time I had before Melinda--who I believed implicitly was monitoring my movements somehow (probably magic. Just a guess)--but I figured it wasn't long. I heard the faucet stop and glanced to the woman, making out like I was trying to decide which stall would be the least filthy. "Oh for the love of--" I began. The woman was putting on makeup! How long was she going to be?! "Excuse me?" she asked in a cool tone, looking at me through the mirror. I sighed and shook my head, "S-Sorry," I muttered, my masculine voice sounding out of place in this setting. She stared at me in the mirror, seemingly repulsed by my masculine femininity, but finally shook her head, "Whatever," she muttered, starting to "freshen up." I finally took a deep breath, released it as a sigh, and patted around my waist. It's not like I had much choice. Melinda was going to make things worse for me if I didn't comply. I couldn't figure out how, but that was why she was in charge. She had a sick imagination for this sort of thing. I was beginning to see that more and more the longer we did this. I finally found the button and began to undo it. I gave one last fleeting glance to my guest at the sink basin and let my female garment drop to the ground. She apparently saw me but, for the first, briefest moment, she didn't react. As if she couldn't believe what she'd seen. I quickly ducked into the nearest stall and closed the door quickly, trying not to be around for the next moment when she screamed or called the cops. Luckily, I didn't hear a scream. I also didn't hear her open a cell phone and dial the police. What I did hear was her makeup compact snap shut and the door open and close. Apparently she'd decided she was pretty enough. I stopped for a moment and caught my breath. I'd almost forgotten the next part of Melinda's commands, but after a moment alone in the stall, I remembered that my position here was still tenuous and I had to do everything Melinda asked. I looked up to the ceiling of the bathroom so I wouldn't have to watch and spread my legs almost to the point of discomfort. For all of Melinda's bluster, I figured she wouldn't want me to be uncomfortable. Physically, anyways. I was definitely uncomfortable in every other possible way, of course. I sighed and sat there for a moment, feeling rippling surges of some strange alien sensation washing through my body at every errant caress of cool air. My nether regions had never been so sensitive as they were just then and the urge to look at them was actually surprisingly difficult to resist. I had to admit, I found myself moderately curious, but some part of my masculinity, whatever of that I ever actually had, seemed to resist the notion. I was a man. Whether for Melinda or myself, I had to act like one. Long moments passed in complete, awkward silence. I sat motionless, stalwartly staring at the celing. I heard the door open after a few minutes and jumped, my blood hammering in my ears. Unfortunately, I heard the clip-clop of high heels (that stopped for a moment shortly after entering, clearly seeing my skirt and confused by its presence). Melinda wasn't wearing high heels, I told myself. She was wearing sandals. I sighed and continued to wait impatiently. The woman entered the stall next to me and, a few minutes later, I heard the flush and then the heels clip-clopped out the door. "She didn't even wash her hands," I muttered to no one in particular, sighing. Long, empty minutes came and went and I was starting to cramp at my position. I didn't dare close my legs, but it was getting hard to sit like this, and my legs gave involuntary shudders every so often. I let my face drop finally to relieve a bit of the cramping in my neck and contented myself with reading some of the graffiti on the walls. "For a good time, call Mac," I read aloud to myself. Huh. There was the same sorts of things in the women's stalls as there were in the men's. Mac must have had an avid following, I thought to myself, to have had someone etch his name in the women's stalls. "Here I sit, broken hearted--" I began to read another, but cut myself off when the door opened again. However, it closed shortly after and I didn't hear any footsteps. Someone must have changed their mind about needing to go to the bathroom. Or realized it was the wrong bathroom. Or saw the skirt sitting there and thought better of it. Finally, I sighed and rolled my neck a bit. My eyes caught sight of the strange creature between my legs and, with yet another sigh, I looked down at it. It was so bizarre. I'd seen vaginas before, of course, but they'd all been several times removed, images on the internet. All but one: Melinda's. But I hadn't even really even gotten a good look at hers, just glimpses of it when she walked around the room this afternoon and that brief look before I plunged myself into it last night. Had that only been last night? It felt like years ago. But seeing the thing on me, from this angle, moving as I moved, nestled between two hairy, shapeless man legs, was a bizarre sight...a sight that, for some reason, made me feel that same, foreign welling in my gut that I'd felt when Melinda had first returned my arousal to me. It was like a warmth was radiating from my crotch inward. I reflected again on how different it felt from the usual feeling, without quite realizing exactly what feeling it meant--I was feeling a girl's arousal. I craned my neck down, examining the slightly open lips, the throbbing, pink folds within. I squirmed a bit to get a better look, but it was hard to see. I vaguely knew that, though I was somewhat aroused, it clearly wasn't enough for the whole thing to open up. If I wanted to actually see anything, I would have to take matters into my own hands. Literally. I looked around, a laughable gesture considering I was in a closed bathroom stall, before reaching down and placing two fingers on each of the labial lips. I had to immediately remove my hand. It just felt too jolting, too strange. I jumped doubly when I heard the door open. I'd had enough false alarms that I barely got my hopes up, but this time, there was a knock at my stall door. "Open up," came Melinda's voice. I took a deep breath. It was somewhat (extremely) embarassing to have my girlfriend see me like this. Then again, I'm sure that was the point. And I was about ready to have her get things back to normal, so I began to stand, but she interrupted. "Don't get up," she said, clearly able to sense what I was doing even though she couldn't see me, "and keep those legs open~" Her sing-songy voice send a shudder through me, but I complied, reaching over to open the door. For a moment, Melinda just stared at me. Well, part of me. She licked her dry lips before stepping into the stall and closing the door behind her, "Did you explore a bit?" she asked, trying to sound casual, but her voice was somewhat hushed, even a little husky. I shook my head quickly, "N-Not really," I stammered. She stared at me and I felt compelled to add, "It felt too weird." "I guess I can understand that," she said, "put your hands on the walls." I blinked at her and, for a moment, didn't comply. She sighed and looked me directly in the eyes, intensely, "Put your hands on the walls." My hands suddenly snapped up against my will, slapping one against each of the stall walls. "Do not move them," she said, her voice resonating with that magical control she'd used before. True to form, I could not remove my hands, nor could I even slide them on the wall. I could move my arms slightly, but not the hands. I watched her with nervous trepidation as she knelt in front of me. I was somewhat surprised to see she'd looked away from my face and was scrutinizing my crotch with an almost clinical expression. I squirmed a bit under her gaze, but she shook her head before I could even think about closing my legs. "Keep your legs open," she said without even looking up. I once again found another part of my body magically paralyzed. It was almost terrifying, knowing that I couldn't move even if I wanted to. All I could do was watch as she reached towards my crotch. She placed two fingers on each of the labial lips as I had done before. Unlike before, however, she didn't shy away from the touch...for she couldn't feel it (though I had to remind myself blearily that she had to know what it felt like--had she touched herself like this?). I jumped as much as her magical commands permitted me and squirmed in the seat, but she was undeterred. She parted the lips and peered into my budding womanhood, still looking like a gynecologist, clinical and detached. She used one hand to hold the lips open and ran a finger down the length of my sex. I let out a distinctly un-womanly moan and bucked my hips a bit. "M-Melinda," I moaned, halfways between asking her to stop and begging her for more. She didn't wait for me to figure out which I wanted, nor did she seem to care. She continued to swirl her finger around the rapidly moistening folds between my legs, seeming to observe the effect it had on me, which was dramatic. My whole body was writhing. The warmth from before had become surges of pure electricity, coursing through my body. I was used to the throbbing need of my member, but this feeling--it was like my whole body had become a penis. But this couldn't have prepared me for what came next. I felt her finger leave my sex and, for a moment, I was allowed to breathe, slumped and panting, my eyes locked on her, though bleary. I saw her lick her lips again, still seeming almost impassively curious about the whole situation, still staring at my crotch. Then, slowly, she moved her head towards my now-open vagina. I tried to close my legs instinctively, like someone trying to stop a tickler from touching them any further, but I couldn't move them. She didn't even need to hold open my vagina lips any more. They were doing all the work for her. She hesitated a moment with her nose nearly touching my crotch before plunging her face almost enthusiastically into my open pussy. I thrashed as much as I was able, letting out a moan. She had barely done anything, but simply watching my girlfriend put her face into my crotch-- into my pussy, my pussy--was almost more than I could bear. I could feel every fold acutely, throbbing, twitching, pulsing, like her own had throbbed, twitched, and pulsed around my member only hours before. I felt something wide and tentative probe into the folds of my sex and bucked my hips against her face, harder when my sluggish brain caught up to reality and I realized what she was doing: she was licking my pussy. She was eating me out. I thrashed and bucked on the toilet seat, my moans unashamedly filling the bathroom. I couldn't control myself--the surges of arousal were so intense, so unexpected. I sunk my teeth into my lip to try and keep myself from being so noisy, but it was no use. The sounds originated from deep in my chest. There was simply no stopping them. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard the door open. I barely registered this, nor did I register the audible gasp of surprise and the quick vacation of the bathroom. Surely I would have been mortified if I wasn't so busy being guided to my first female orgasm by my over-eager girlfriend. I seemed to be swimming in a timeless expanse, a vast abyss filled only with my sexual high. My body was, at first, convulsive and alive, but as I neared the top of some vast metaphorical mountain, I seemed to lose all ability to move, as if Melinda had placed my entire body under the same magically-induced paralysis commands. Finally, the walls came tumbling down and I threw back my head. I vaguely heard Melinda screaming in ultimate pleasure, phrases like "oh yes!" and "oh God!" and "oh shit!"...lots of ohs. That same hidden place of my subconscious was proud that I could make her moan like that. But then I wondered how the hell I had. She'd been the one negotiating me to orgasm, not me doing so to her. I vaguely realized that I was on the cold tile floor. I felt like I'd passed out for a moment. Melinda was gone, I couldn't feel her anywhere near me. It took me a moment to sort out my scrambled senses. Sight came back in some limited capacity, the world spinning back into view. I could see stall. It was...horizontal-er than I remembered it. Then I realized I was laying on the floor. The stall door was open and Melinda was indeed gone. My hearing returned next. My ragged breathing rushed in my ears, awkward and unfamiliar to my addled brain. I heard the water running and a lapping sound. Melinda was drinking from the faucet. I tried to call out to her, but it came out as a feeble moan, a moan that also sounded unfamiliar. After a moment, I saw Melinda's legs looming over me. She knelt down into view and I recognized her mischevious grin. "You took that like a champ." Her voice was echoey in my head, distant and vague, like I was hearing her from the entrance of a long, deep cave. My mouth was dry and when I tried to speak, the squeaking sounds felt awkward and unfamiliar. I was becoming slowly aware of my body, which felt awkward and heavy, bloated. I chalked it up to the orgasm, but as consciousness continued to return to me, I began to realize that my body did feel awkward. Something was wrong. "Don't worry, sweety," she said, reaching down and putting my arm around her shoulder. "I fixed it. Just like I said I would." She struggled awkwardly to help me to my feet completely on her own. I felt like I was just learning how to coordinate my movements for the first time, like my arms and legs had never been used before. She grunted a bit. "Sorry, that one probably messed with you a bit more than the others," she said, her voice still echoing and ringing in my ears. My muddied brain tried to understand what she was telling me, but it didn't make sense. Messed me up? More than what others? "But I'm happy with the results," she added with a broad grin at me. She sounded light. Extremely pleased. She led me to the sink basin. I blinked at Melinda. Suddenly she was in front of me, beaming at me. At her side was an awkward looking young woman. She had somewhat plain features, a long face that looked almost horse-ish, and stringy, straw- blonde hair. Her crystal-blue eyes looked vaguely familiar to me. Even as sexually-exhausted as I was, my eyes travelled down to her chest, which was healthy and round beneath her blue t-shirt, a shirt that looked vaguely familiar to me and strained to contain her rounded and moderately ample chest. She wasn't wearing any pants, I realized with some mounting surprise. I could see her naked, bony hips, pushing out the hem of the shirt slightly, and her dripping sex hidden between two fleshy thighs. Her arm was draped over Melinda's shoulder. Wait. My arm was draped over Melinda's shoulder. Reality came crashing down on me like a ton of bricks stuck together into the shape of larger bricks that themselves were wrapped around an elephant. We were at the sink basin and we were looking into a mirror. "Now no one will think you're an ugly girl wearing a skirt," Melinda said triumphantly. "You're actually kinda cute!" I staggered and she tried to catch me, but I was still taller than her. In fact, I hadn't lost a whole lot of height. I was still close to six feet tall, still bony and angled, just with a bit more roundness, a bit more curves. We both stumbled and fell to the ground, her cackling with gleeful mirth and me gawping at the ceiling with shocked silence. "Welcome to womanhood!" Melinda crowed triumphantly. "I hope you enjoy your stay!"