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I wrote this story at the same time as Conveyor Belt and they are two sides of the same experiment in writing style. While Conveyor Belt has no narrator at all, with Normal I have tried out a narrator that speaks directly to the reader. See what you think. As for the story, one note of caution. If you're either waiting for, or avoiding sexual content, there isn't any description of direct sexual acts until the end of the story, but when it gets there it's a fairly extended and explicit passage. Hope you like it. Normal Today I'd like to tell you the story of Mr Albert Hale. I say THE STORY of Mr Hale, rather than A STORY, because, up until the day on which the events described in this little tale took place, there really were precious few stories to tell in the life of poor Albert. Of course, there were plenty of adventures to come after the story related to you here, but then after the day in question, he wasn't really Albert any more.... Albert Jeremiah Hale was a tax inspector. In all honesty, he was probably always destined to be a tax inspector. From an early age his father had instilled in his son a familiarity with numbers together with a respect for authority and the status quo. When the boy wanted to play; to run and jump, his father always found new mathematical puzzles to be solved or explained previously unconsidered risks that meant that this or that activity was dangerous or not appropriate for a well brought up young man. As is the way of things, eventually the voice of Albert's father's took up residence inside the youngsters own head. Complying with rules and regulations became something of a hallmark of his childhood. Albert liked to ensure that things were exactly as they should be, leaving no space for surprise or worry. He even invented his own boundaries where none existed, or where those that did exist weren't strict enough to make him feel safe. Even in a primary school with a relaxed dress code, he still preferred to go in every day wearing a clean crisp shirt, and when he moved up to secondary school he was always the first to tell teachers (who frankly would rather not have known) if a fellow pupil left the school premises during a study break without authorisation or sneaked a cigarette round the back of the building. Later on, when he entered the world of work, Albert's attitude meant that, while he was often valued by his superiors, he was rarely liked by his colleagues. And even those line managers who valued Albert were still likely to take advantage, knowing that Albert would never question their authority. Indeed, it rarely even occurred to Albert to do so, even if he did sometimes wish for more enjoyable assignments. On the day that we take a peek into the life of our hero, Albert was experiencing one of the more probing examinations of his talent for decorum and respect for his superiors. You see, the head of Albert's department had a very particular job to delegate, one that she was aware might be mishandled in the wrong hands. Jacked magazine was a so-called "lads mag" soft pornography publication. Preliminary assessment of their tax return warranted some additional investigation and the head of department had the job of assigning the appropriate inspector to attend the magazine's offices in order to check all of their records. The two available members of staff were the afore-mentioned Mr Hale, and an inspector of roughly equal experience, named Dave Pollock. The choice was an easy one. Although Albert and Dave were both socially awkward souls, their discomfort with human relations manifested in quite opposite ways. While Albert simply remained quiet and fastidiously lived inside the rules, Dave was one of those people who felt the unfortunate need to try to demonstrate their worldliness, especially when it came to the subject of women. Dave was the nod and a wink man; The source of slightly inappropriate emails and lists ranking famous women's body parts; The man that said things like "phwoar!" and "I'd give her one", all accompanied with a nervously wild smile and a flick of his limp fringe of hair. Dave's exuberances were designed to demonstrate that he was a sexual being (Whether he was trying to convince himself or others, no one was sure or particularly cared), but it's primary effect was to highlight his lack of actual relations, or indeed any kind of familiarity, with the fairer sex. As you can imagine, Dave rubbed a number of people up the wrong way, no one more so that Albert, who hated how he drew attention to matters that should, in Albert's opinion, only be thought about, behind closed doors, let alone spoken about. Not that Albert actually allowed himself to consider such matters even in private. Sexual experience was a thing altogether so far outside of his safe daily routine, that it felt abhorrent to Albert even to think about it. And so, with the choice of a man who would make a scene, and one who assuredly would not, it was almost predestined that it was to Albert that the task fell. Unfortunately the assignment had not failed to escape the notice of the rest of the office, and on the day of the site visit, Dave was making the most of this gilt-edged opportunity to emphasise to the world at large that he, Dave Pollock, was indeed a red-blooded heterosexual male. "Give em one for me Bert!" he half-whispered to Albert, loud enough to be audible to the four men and three women also attending the morning meeting. It wasn't only Dave either. Sniggers were to be heard from several points around the table as the week's assignments were discussed. The thought of impeccably proper Albert amidst topless models was too deliciously amusing for even the more emotionally mature members of the team. Much as everyone disliked Dave, the way that he antagonised Albert was something of a popular spectator sport in the office, and being the attention craving man that he was, Dave was unfortunately only egged on by the chortles which he didn't quite understand were at least partially at his expense. Albert slightly disappointed his tormentors by giving no visible reaction whatsoever, but inside he felt a little buzz. Whether it was righteous anger, or rather illicit excitement, that he felt in response to this clear stepping outside of the rules, and the implicit involvement of his own person in such a situation, didn't even cross his mind. Whatever it was, the emotion was improper, abnormal and was to be suppressed, snuffed out. Throughout the morning's preparations Dave grinned and winked in his direction. Albert's departure for Jacked was greeted by Dave with hollers of encouragement and a request for Albert to take some pictures and send them on to him. Albert rolled his eyes, sensing that Dave was actually less jealous than he was making out and wondering whether Dave was perhaps even relieved to not have his self-touted "way with the ladies" put to the test. ------------------------ The offices of Jacked magazine looked to Albert Hale much the same as any other offices he visited. The concrete facade was familiar, as were the black faux-leather sofas in the reception area. Even the man who came to meet him to take him to the office where the financial records were kept would have raised few eyebrows in any number of respectable businesses. His shirt was a little bright perhaps, his hair a little slick, but nothing of any particular note or consequence. Indeed there really was nothing to cause the professional, unflappable Mr Hale to treat the job as anything other than routine. Right up till he entered the financial records room. As the door was opened by his escort, Albert saw first a row of neat, ordered filing cabinets, standard in shape and size, and just as would have been expected. Next he saw a sturdy, reliable looking desk and chair, exactly as he would require to complete the task assigned to him. Finally, as the door opened to its full extent, he saw a window. While his work often took him to basements and other rooms with no windows, a window in itself was the sort of mild architectural extravagance that Mr Hale felt was an acceptable concession from optimal building efficiency in the reasonable interests of normal human comfort. It was what was visible through the window that caused a lump of discomfort to form in our hero's throat. Albert realised with a certain amount of surprise that the room looked out, not to the outside, but rather onto a large photography studio. The studio was blessed with high ceilings, reaching up to a double storey height with a glass roof capable of letting in the natural light from above. The office in which Mr Hale was to base himself for the duration of his visit was located in the upper level of offices, and so it was only when Albert moved close to the window that he could see below him the figures in the studio. He should have recoiled. The principles instilled deeply within him should have caused him to shake his head and search for blinds to close. Instead he found himself staring. The two women visible in the studios were quite the most mesmerising sight that Albert had experienced in his thirty-some years of life. And it was not their faces upon which his eyes settled. -----Please do take note that whilst it is incumbent upon me, as the recorder of these events, to relay to you the guilt and judgement that poor, inhibited Mr Hale wreaked upon himself for his actions, I dare say that not one of us would have been able to turn swiftly away from such a sight as that which greeted his eyes from that window.----- Finally, several moments later than would have been required to keep his dignity intact, Albert blinked hard and turned away. He looked in the direction of his escort and managed to contort his mouth into a shape that closely resembled a smile, signalling that he now wished to be left alone in the office with his books of safe, trustworthy numbers. Mr Hale managed to concentrate on the columns and rows of numbers and shorthand for maybe an hour or so, all the time fighting off the urge to edge up again to the window and peer down into the studio below. He was then interrupted by a sound emanating from his bag, indicating the receipt of a message on his phone. Unable to leave the messy, uncertain state of affairs of having a message unread on his phone, he stood up to take the phone from his bag. Checking it, he was unhappy to find that it was from his colleague Dave Pollock. He knew that it was probably some crass comment, but there was always the possibility that it might be work related and urgent, and the always responsible Mr Hale was unable to countenance any possible derogation of duty. "Hey Bert, how big do their tits look in real life?! Send me a picture!" "Ugh," whispered Albert in disgust. Nevertheless, Albert did wonder. Where they actually as big and lovely as they had seemed at his first glance? He had certainly rarely if ever seen such impressive assets on any women he saw in the street. Now in a standing position, he could almost see the activities in the studio below. Slowly, ever so slowly, he inched closer and closer to the window, stretching upwards to get a better view. Finally he saw them. And then he couldn't stop from keeping on seeing them. It was a good few minutes before he broke away and he quickly admonished himself for his actions. But a vigorous shake of the head, a strong mug of instant coffee and half an hour of work later, he was back at the window again. When, just fifteen minutes after that, on yet another visit to the window, he discovered the studio quite empty, the truth of his voyeurism came home to him, and he returned to his work with a rather large lump of guilt in his throat and a sinking feeling in his heart at the failure of his much cherished self-discipline. The books used a rather complex and unorthodox method, and tax officer Hale had to concentrate to make sense of it all. For the first time that he could remember, Albert thought to himself that his work was actually rather dull. Do not mistake me dear readers; Albert had felt that his job was dull many many times before. Perhaps so often in fact, that dullness had become his expected and accepted way of being. The point for you to note is merely that this time, he actually admitted it to himself. He admitted both that his work was dull, and that this mattered. For perhaps the first time, he failed to subconsciously fight back against this realisation by reference to the importance or respectability of his work, nor did he defer to the necessity of the secure, comfortable income that it procured for him. His work was dull, and he wished that it wasn't. It was as this realisation was dawning upon Albert that his eyes, guided by his hung-low head, happened to notice that the lower drawer of the desk was slightly ajar, and, even more remarkably, that from within the aforesaid drawer, came a surprising glint of light. Now, our good old Albert, respectable and trustworthy Mr Hale, was not normally one to pry. So I'm sure that you can imagine that Albert was just as surprised as you and I, that he reached inside that private drawer and grasped the source of the illumination. Indeed he was so taken aback by his own crossing of such a clear boundary, that for several moments he simply sat, one hand gripped around whatever object had attracted his attention, wondering whether he should simply put it back where he found it without so much as opening up his fingers to see what it was. It wasn't a thought of Albert's that caused his hand to open. It wasn't a decision, emanating from the ordered mastery of his synapses. Rather, it was pure feeling that instructed his fingers to relax outward, apparently bypassing his conscious brain altogether. What he saw, in the centre of his palm, was a large gold coin. It was unmoving, and yet somehow it seemed to buzz with energy. As if there was a halo around it that made reality fuzzy and hot in a way imperceptible to traditional senses. The feeling of distortion was only enhanced by the uneven edge of the generally circular coin. Albert, who had a professional and personal interest in currency, old and new, supposed that it must belong to some ancient civilisation. He examined the markings on the coin, which appeared to be some kind of letters or runes, but he could not place it's origin. His musings on the strange artifact were interrupted in a most rude fashion by the door to the office swinging open, entirely without prior enquiry or warning and the entrance into the room of a large very well- built man wearing an even larger grin. "Hey! Taxman, right?" The words exploded into the formerly silent room, seeming to exist instantaneously in every corner, defying the logic that strongly suggested that they must have emanated from the new entrant. It took more than a moment for Albert to gather himself together to respond. "Erm....yes...well.....Mr Albert Hale, tax inspection officer acting on behalf of Her Majesties Revenue and Customs. I.... don't believe we've been introduced." "Bob Reynard. I own the place. Nice, eh Taxman?" Mr Reynard nodded in the direction of the window with a widening of his already rather extraordinary smile. Albert grimaced momentarily, as if biting on a lemon. "Very good to meet you Mr Reynard." Albert couldn't help but feel intimidated by this mountain of a man who towered over Albert's, 5' 10'' frame. The human grin continued: "Please. Call me Bob. So, yeah, just wanted to pop my head in and let you see my face. We're heading down to do another shoot now, but if you need anything, you've got a telephone in here." The "we" that "Bob" referred to was revealed to Albert, as Bob moved his substantial form away from the door to allow line of sight between Albert and a quite stunningly beautiful woman standing in the corridor, just the other side of the doorway. She smiled and waved. Albert screwed up his face once more conveying something between good-mannered acknowledgement and guilt-ridden pain. Albert's discomfort was substantially increased by the fact that he recognised the girl in the corridor as the owner of the rather remarkable pair of breasts that had received his ogling attention from the window earlier that morning. "Hiya. I'm Sandy," chirruped the source of the greatest pleasure and the greatest pain that Albert could remember. "Sandy here is our star." explained Bob "We're doing a feature on the hot up and coming girls on the scene and Sandy here is doing a shoot with each of them to introduce them to the public. Sandy's a firm favourite of our readers." -----Here I must briefly apologise for Mr Reynard's quite unconscionable use of the term "readers" which I believe he meant in the most extraordinarily loose sense, rather than its proper meaning of actually discerning the meaning of the written word, such as you, my valued readership, are doing now. I, as I am sure you can ascertain, like to call a spade a spade, but I cannot speak for Mr Reynard.------ No doubt the distaste at such inaccurate use of the English language also affected the sensibilities of Mr Hale, but surprisingly another stronger feeling came to him in that moment and drowned it out. Mr Hale suddenly felt a sense of loss. Loss of the many years of his life that had passed since his adolesence without so much as a word exchanged with a woman of Sandy's calibre. Loss of kisses and chases, loss of drunken liaisons and even loss of awkward but thrilling first dates, all of which he had missed out on. And most of all Albert became suddenly aware of the loss of the opportunity right before him; a circumstance in which he could potentially be in the extended presence of undiluted sensuality and sexuality, but where such pleasures were denied to him by his long-practised nature and the roll that he occupied in life. And with this emptiness opening up in his heart, and the golden coin firmly locked in the grip of his left hand, Albert Hale wished that he had a job which meant that he could be down in the studio with the models and not stuck up here amidst the financial records. .... It took Albert a moment to notice that time had stopped. He was so caught up by a flood of the regrets he had held back for so long, that it was a few seconds before he realised that Sandy's hand was fixed in position, half way through a cute little wave, and that Bob's jacket hung in the air, frozen unnaturally in the middle of his turn towards the door. He looked from Sandy, to Bob, and back to Sandy. Finally he looked down at himself. He twisted and turned, and seemed to move just as normal, even while all else remained frozen. He felt a heat in his hand and opened it. There he saw the coin, and most extraordinarily, he noticed that the markings upon it were glowing. As he stared down at the small roundel of precious metal, the heat and disturbance around it (which he had earlier rationalised as being only in his mind) clearly broke through into reality. The coin began to vibrate, slowly at first, but soon faster and faster, until the glowing markings caused lines of light to be imprinted on Albert's retina. Soon the coin was a blur. Albert could feel it moving in his palm, pulling his skin with its movement. In shock, Albert jolted and turned his hand towards the floor as if discovering a deadly spider crawling over him. But instead of falling to the ground, the coin remained in place, apparently now welded to his skin! Albert watched in horror as his hand began to be dragged along with the vibrations of the coin. At first the shaking appendage looked to Albert rather like it was suffering from Parkinsons, but soon it became unnaturally fast and he felt the knuckles of his fingers slapping together. Albert almost screamed out, but he found that he couldn't: Not for any physical reason, but rather because another feeling crashed against his fear. In his mind there was enchantment to match his terror. Albert looked closer, bringing his hand up towards his face. He was aware now, even through the blur, that his hand was changing, becoming smaller, and more slender. He opened his eyes wider, seeking to take in as much sensory information as possible in an effort to verify this extraordinary turn of events. He was rewarded for his concentration with a clear and undeniable sight of his normally fastidiously short fingernails growing out by half an inch. He went to touch one with his other hand, and gave a small yelp of pain as his still oscillating nail made a small cut on the investigating finger. He turned over his hand as the vibrations in his hand began to slow, and was just in time to see bright sparkly pink decorative polish work its way over his new longer nails. Albert noticed that his hand was now moving differently. It was still in motion but it was slower, more languid. On closer inspection, he discovered that his hand was now moving, not from its own energy, but because it was attached to his arm, which was itself shaking at a furiously high frequency. The movement was now beneath the sleeve of his shirt, and so his view was obscured, but he could feel that it was no less intense than the effect which had a moment ago beset his hand. With panic growing in his chest he mobilised his one loyal hand and took a grip of the afflicted forearm. He wanted to put a stop to it, but it was no use. His fingers closed around his arm, finding it thinner and less substantial than he remembered, but the energy was unabated. Albert held on with all his might, but it made no difference. He held on so hard that his whole body began to shake. Finally, defeated, Albert removed his hand, and was horrified to find that his hitherto unaffected arm and hand now continued to vibrate, as if still gripped around the other. With neither arm under his control Albert could only stand and watch as his second hand followed the form of the first. The movement continued up his arms and across his shoulders. As always, Albert was wearing a smart sober tie and buttoned up collar, and, as the vibrations reached his neck, they suddenly transferred from his skin to his clothing. Now, a cotton and polyester mix must be must easier to transform than flesh and blood, because the wave of movement simply flashed across Albert's clothing, moving from head to toe, and leaving Albert, mouth agog, and newly slender arms held out to the side, standing in an office, wearing a sky blue string-tied bikini and matching high heels. At this, Albert finally managed to produce an audible sound, but I am sure that the high pitched squeek which emanated from his new, narrower neck was not what he had been aiming for. It was borne out of embarrassment, but Albert really needn't have worried. Bob and Sandy were still frozen in place and, even though it seemed to Albert that their eyes were focussed upon his hairy squat body, complete with comically slender arms and neck, in reality they were quite uncomprehending of the absurdity of his situation. It felt like an eternity to Albert, but of course this picture lasted only for a moment. The changes moved quickly from his new strappy high- heeled sandals, transferred back into his feet, and began moving back up his body. His calves buzzed and then his thighs veritably wobbled as they changed. He could now clearly see that his smooth, soft, hairless legs tapered from luscious thickness to slim elegance as they reached in their curving alluring way down to his dainty feet. Looking down he wiggled his pink tipped toes and was surprised to see these foreign objects move at his command. He could even feel the feathery touch of the bow located on the lowermost strap of each shoe brushing against his skin as he moved. The vibrations slowed as they reached the wider environs of his hips and bottom, like rapids opening out into a deeper, wider section of a river. He found his hips swirling in a wide orbit, causing his male genitalia, hopelessly uncontained by his little blue thong, to flap around uncontrollably. His penis, which to his dismay, was quite erect, helicoptered about, and his testicles slapped up against his juicy soft thighs. Most unfortunately for Albert, the feeling of this male genitalia against his newly supple smooth skin seemed to turn him on, and his dick became even longer and harder, only increasing how preposterous the whole sight appeared. Albert could feel his hips opening out with their centrifugal movement, like pizza dough thrown by an expert chef, and soon this was accompanied by an unmistakable rising in his buttocks. He tensed and grimaced as his rear ballooned, causing the back of his skimpy thong to slide up between the twin creamy, jiggling, mounds. Realising his failure to halt the transformation, he relaxed his muscles, and for the first time felt the delicious little bounce of a derriere that was both generous and pert in equal measure. Still his penis was flailing about as he involuntarily swayed his new womanly hips. Despite the total astonishment that went along with the changes being wrought on his body, Albert's greatest emotion was still shame at this totally exposing, and even flaunting, display of his most private parts. He really needn't have worried, as the offending appendage didn't remain with him for long. With one particularly forceful jutting of his hips, he felt the force exerted by his swirling member suddenly shift. Taking a good look down, he could barely believe his eyes to see that his whole package had begun to peel away, and was now swinging from a rapidly diminishing section off to the left of his groin. With one more rotation of his hips, it detached completely and was flung across the room, flying though the air before hitting the still frozen Sandy square in her beaming face and rebounding back into the room. As it fell to the floor, Albert watched as it transformed to semi-transparent blue rubber, ending it's sad and lonely life as a moderately sized sex toy. Where his penis had been, Albert now felt a slight rising puffiness, and then a splitting sensation as his skin parted to form a neat little pussy. Albert looked from the smooth, flat triangle of blue fabric that gently cupped his new vagina, to the dildo that used to be his dick, to Sandy's brightly smiling face. He was paralysed by fear and shock, but inside he was screaming for help. He would take assistance from anywhere. Somehow deep in his slowly moistening cunt (and though of course he resisted acting on his urges) he felt that the blue piece of rubber on the floor offered him the best chance of release from his tension. The vibrations continued on their slow journey up his body, and soon Albert was wiggling around with a sexy flat-tummied core and a smaller ribcage to match. Much as he was struggling to take all of this in, Albert was well aware of what he seemed to be changing into, and accordingly he of course knew what was coming next. He looked down at the blue bikini top wrapped around his chest. The cups looked rather large. Now, for all Albert's studied restraint, he had, in all truthfulness, always held a candle for women with rather larger assets up top. I think it is perhaps often the case that for those deprived of reality, fantasy can be even more unrestrained and fantastical. And so it was, that with the knowledge of the gifts he was about to receive, Albert felt both terror and anticipation. Both emotions seemed to settle in Albert's chest, in his heart and lungs, in the same place as was, for these fleeting moments, the centre of his involuntarily movement. The vibrations moved slowly towards the front of his chest, and he felt himself compelled to lean forward and hold his arms out to the side. He struggled to maintain his balance and found that he was forced to stick out his newly larger bottom behind his as a counterweight, arching his back in the process. Glancing up, he realised that he was now faced directly towards Bob and was positioned rather like a stripper giving a good view of her cleavage. And then, rather appropriately, I think you might agree, Albert began to jiggle. He shook his shoulders and chest, and managed to get rather a good rhythm going. Well, Albert had never had much of a groove, and if you'd told Albert that he would have been able to manage such a dancing fluid movement, he would never have believed you. Of course he also might have found it difficult to believe if you'd told him that his nipples would grow to the size of thimbles, and begin to be pushed up by blossoming little breasts closer and closer to the smooth shiny fabric of his cute little bikini. Nevertheless, both of these events were now taking place in front of his eyes. The more he wiggled and jiggled, the more his chest swelled, and the more his chest swelled, the more he seemed to wiggle and jiggle. His boobies moved softly into the cups of his bikini and began to fill them up ever so nicely. The bright colour of the satiny cloth only helped to emphasise his new contours, each, now rather substantial titty forming into an almost perfectly rounded shape, sitting proud and high on his chest and happily advertising their abundance and availability to anyone who cared to look. The vibrations in his chest slowed, and carefully, in stages, Albert was able to rise back up to an upright position, but not before one final shiver caused his boobs to go from generous to magnificent, stretching what must already have been a G cup bikini almost to bursting point. The movements now became smaller and more precise as they moved up to his face. First his lips quivered, and he experienced a softening and plumping sensation, until with a little "pop" of moisture, they parted into an ever so slightly open pout of surprise. At the same time he felt a little wash of something coating them. He ran his tongue over his upper lip and tasted a faint hint of strawberries. After involuntarily twitching his nose into a smaller (and, let's face it, far cuter) size and shape, he then felt his eyes fluttering. When they were finished, he could just sense long lashes on the periphery of his vision. Again, he felt something pass over his lids, giving them a light blue covering and continuing on to emphasise his big, almond shaped eyes. Next the whole skin of his face shuddered, forming a new delicate jawline and chin and feminine but cutely plump cheeks. Finally, with a vigorous shake of his head, his side parting was eviscerated and long blonde hair tumbled down across his face and shoulders, until it tickled his lower back where it arced out towards his perfect teardrop shaped bottom. ----- Oh deary me, I seem to have spent rather an excessive amount of time describing the changes that happened to poor Albert. But then, events as remarkable as those that took place in that financial records room, (and indeed the body as remarkable as that which resulted from those events) do perhaps merit a fair degree of attention, and I have a sneaky feeling that all of you, my valued and respected readership, won't judge me too harshly for providing such details.---- Anyway, on with our story.... "Come on Abby." Our hero (or perhaps I should say heroine), looked up with a blank expression towards a still smiling Bob Reynard for several seconds before realising that he was expected to respond to this new name. Albert's first experience as a girl was a little shiver of stimulation down his spine as he noticed the defined shape of Bob's torso through his thin white shirt, which had hitherto escaped his attention. "We've got a shoot to do. No need to be nervous, you look fantastic, and Sandy here is going to show you the ropes." "I...um...." came Albert's high pitched reply, his mind unable to form coherent words while it raced simultaneously with questions, like, "is this real?", "how did this happen?", "how do I get out of this?" and "I wonder if that cute gold number Sandy's wearing comes in my size?" One question finally came to the fore: "Where did that coin go?" Maybe he could wish this whole thing away. Struggling to wrench his wide open big bright blue eyes from the form of Mr Reynard, Albert gave a little squeek and then frantically began to scan the floor. It was nowhere to be seen! Wondering whether it might have rolled under the desk, Albert dropped to his knees and scrambled underneath, raising his mostly exposed and utterly feminine rear high into the air. "Hey babe, whatever you're looking for, you don't need. You're a knockout as you are." Still Albert searched without any luck. He was so focussed on his quest for a way out of this situation, that he didn't even notice the heavy footsteps of Mr Reynard as he moved up behind him. He did notice, however, the heavy slap on his bottom and the way that the soft flesh wobbled like firm jelly under Mr Reynard's hand. Albert also noticed how it made him jump and bang his head against the underside of the desk. Instinctively Albert eased himself out from underneath the desk and tried to stand up. This proved a little more difficult than anticipated, due to his four inch heels, and he fell forward into Mr Reynard, his boobies squishing up against Bob's hard midriff and well developed arms. Still unbalanced, Albert looked up into the eyes of the immovable Mr Reynard, who looked back, and with a smile, softly stroked Albert's hair where he had hit his head. "Aw, sorry babe. Did that hurt?" With his eyes still inexplicably transfixed by Bob's, Albert felt strangely soothed, and the pain was minimal. Mutely, he shook his head. "Good. OK, now let Sandy take you down to the studio and I'll follow on." Being the shocked and helpless little girl he was,and having never been much good at rebellion in any case, Albert didn't feel he could refuse. He took the hand offered by the more experienced woman and, with faltering steps, tottered away down the stairs to the studio, astonished by the loud clicking sound of his heels that accompanied every step. At the bottom of the stairs, they came out into the main reception and Albert suddenly felt a terror that someone he might know could look in off the street and see him. This was all quite irrational of course, as no-one would have recognised him, and in any event, there was no-one around as he was led through a doorway and out into the large studio space. In the studio, observation was of course an entirely different matter. A number of pairs of eyes turned to look at him and more than a few lingered on one or other part of his soft porcelain skin. Instinctively he halted his steps and covered up in a sort of cringe. Sandy turned back and looked him in the eyes with a empathetic little smile. "Come on Honey, you've come this far. I'm sure it'll come natural to you if you just give yourself a chance," said Sandy holding out a helping hand. Albert didn't feel like going forward, and he certainly didn't believe that anything about this would ever feel natural, but forward was the only direction help was coming from, so step by step, he placed one unfamiliar long slender leg in front of the other and walked along with Sandy to the space set up for the photo-shoot. Once there, Sandy turned to face him, and smiling more brightly now, pulled the new girl towards her, both of them side-on to the camera. For a moment, Albert forgot about his own bodily predicament as all of his senses and fears were focussed on the extraordinary prospect of moving in towards Sandy's bountiful feminine figure. Albert, had never before been faced with such an expanse of soft inviting boob as was presented by the perfect globes pushed up and together by Sandy's little gold bikini. For a moment he forgot all about the many onlookers in the studio, and even his own unfamiliar body, and time seemed to move more slowly as he eased herself towards Sandy's gorgeous figure and he felt the welcoming touch of Sandy's palms as they brushed gently up Albert's own soft smooth arms to rest upon his shoulders. Albert's sweet, oblivious, Sandy-centric experience was brought to an end with a jolt, as the lovely breasts that he was drawing near to bumped against his own body, and rather than feeling them press against the unimpressive, but still essentially hard chest that Albert had known as his own for many years, he instead felt those soft mounds bounce against his own similar set of enormous titties, making them jiggle playfully inside the bikini top at the impact. Albert, whose eyes had been trained upon Sandy's assets, now moved his gaze slightly downwards and took in the extraordinary sight of the twin sets of bosoms pushed together to create a single glorious cleavage. Apart from the different colours of flimsy fabric over their nipples, there really was very little to tell the boobies of the two lovelies apart, though his own were perhaps just a little larger, and his skin perhaps a little lighter. "That's great, now give us a smile," called the photographer, a wiry fellow with a mop of red hair and thick glasses. The combined assaults of the terribly immediate and bodily experience of his jiggling boobs, together with the photographers reminder of his presence, was all just rather too much for the still reserved, still shy, still morally restrained little Albert. He turned to the photographer with wide open eyes and mouth expressing very real shock and fear. "Yeah, girl, you got that cutie 'whoops!' look down," said the photographer, looking up from his camera, "and believe me the guys like a vulnerable and innocent looking chick, but it ain't working for the two of you together. Give me something more sultry and sexy!" The concept that his genuine fear and discomfort could be interpreted as an attempt at a form of flirtation disturbed Albert much further, and he had a terrible premonition that in this body, pretty much everything he did would be defined by how sexy it made him. He could only look on as Sandy, still pressed up close, but now moving her hands down to Albert's hips, swished her hair, narrowed her eyes, and pouted to the camera. "Yeah, that's it," shouted the photographer. "Come on blondie, make like you're enjoying it too." Albert, never one to disobey someone who had apparent authority, dragged his face back towards the camera and tried to smile. "Aw, come on" his red-haired torturer continued "You look like you're in pain! Don't just stand there stiff as a board, drop a shoulder, arch your back. Work that body, babe." Albert wanted to comply; He wanted to act like a sexy girl and not let everyone down, but instead he froze with fear, unable to reciprocate Sandy's sensuous writhings. "Ok. Ok. This isn't working," announced the photographer. "I can see you're real nervous, so why don't you take a break and try to calm down, loosen up." Albert breathed a sigh of relief. "Count yourself lucky. I don't normally give second chances, but...whew! That body gives you a free pass.... for now." Sandy turned to Albert "Hey, do you want to get a drink or something? There's a place we can go to sit down for a moment." Albert felt very grateful to Sandy for her concern, but he had other priorities. He declined politely in his new sweet girly voice and raced off back towards the stairs to search for the coin that had somehow got him into this. Unfortunately, as I'm sure that more than one of you, my dear readers, can sympathise, four inch stiletto heels are not really made for racing, especially not when they are strapped to the feet of someone who had worn the same style of sensible black leather shoes every day since school. Albert therefore should not really have been surprised when, having not taken three steps, one of his ankles slightly gave way, and he wobbled and teetered, rather like a new born baby deer, and then slowly, ever so slowly, toppled forward towards the floor. In one way Albert really did ever so well, in that he managed to reach out his slender feminine arms and stop himself from collapsing entirely to the ground. On the other hand, his rescue operation did mean that he found himself in a rather compromising position, on all fours, boobs swinging freely beneath him and with his long straight legs thrusting his thong-framed, teardrop shaped bottom high into the air in the direction of the photographer and other onlookers. "Hey look," came a male voice from behind him "She does know how to pose for the cameras." "There are other mags that would love that kind of angle babe" spoke another voice "though you'd have to lose the panties first." It was at this point that Mr Reynard, the owner of the magazine, or "Bob" as he introduced himself earlier in our story, happened to walk into the studio. Albert looked up, managing to flick or blow most of his long hair out of the way, and saw Bob's slightly smirking face looking down at him. It took Albert a moment to realise that Bob's eyes were not aimed at his own, but instead lingered on the fabulous rack which was once again in a position that was most advantageous for this grinning observer. Albert was mortified to find that his instinctive reaction was not to flee or cover up, but rather to maintain his position, extending Bob's enjoyment of the view, and Albert squirmed as he even felt a growing warmth between his legs at the thought of this man's admiration. Amidst sporadic laughter from behind him, our little heroine, utterly humiliated, and with his father's voice tutting disapprovingly in his head, clambered back to his feet and rushed, albeit with rather more careful dainty little steps, past Mr Reynard, out of the studio, up the steps and back into the financial records room. The first thing that he saw when he entered the room was his mobile phone sitting on the desk. From an intermittent flashing, he realised that there were messages on the phone. Well, most of us may have ignored such a thing in such circumstances, but not knowing whether everything was OK or whether there might be an urgent problem had always been psychologically impossible to tolerate for Albert and so he quickly checked the phone. What he discovered was half a dozen or so missed calls, all from Dave Pollock, along with a number of increasingly desperate text messages pestering for photos and updates. Hardly a crisis, he thought. That was until he read the last couple of messages. Dave, apparently, was so obsessed with the assignment at Jacked magazine that he had decided to invite himself over to have lunch there! Albert quickly texted back to tell him not to come, but looking at the clock on the wall, he could see that Dave was probably already well on his way. What would happen if Dave turned up at Jacked? Well, he'd discover that Albert was nowhere to be seen and he'd probably start spreading rumours or some such. He might even try to take on the job himself, and then no doubt he'd be awful to all the women. The thought made Albert cringe. Of course, this just made it even more important for him to find the coin. For the second time he searched and searched the room for the coin, and eventually he found it, resting beneath a wheeled filing cabinet that felt three times as heavy as it had that morning. At exactly the same time as his salvation came to his sight, the object of his terror, in the form of heavy male footsteps stopping outside the office, came to his ears. Albert's hands shook as he hurriedly reached down to pick up the coin, hoping desperately that it was good for at least one more wish. With the door opening and Mr Reynard entering the room, and all of his boundaried, respectable upbringing pressing heavily upon his consciousness, Albert quickly wished what seemed like a perfectly natural sensible wish: "I wish for everything to be normal," he said aloud. Now, many wise people will tell you that normality is a highly subjective concept. What is or is not considered normal changes from age to age, from person to person, and even moment to moment. Reality simply is as it is, and makes no judgment on how it *should* be. It therefore stands to scrutiny and reason that making things normal is not a matter of changing how things are, but how they are perceived. Albert therefore had little justification for being as surprised as he was when, after the world had once again frozen in time, and while his girlish heart raced in anticipation of being released from his nightmare and returned to his previous form, nothing about his appearance changed by even a single hair's breadth. Instead he felt a wave of dizziness overcome him as his mind started to race, recalling items of his memory, values, skills and knowledge, one by one, and changing, adapting and adding to each as was necessary to cause reality around him to be considered *normal*. Well my dear readers, whatever powers that be decided, (rightly or wrongly I'll let you decide) to keep intact as much of Albert's mind as they could, and to focus on what might be considered the core of what might cause a person to feel that things were not *normal*; that is, the concern and worry at the way things are. And so, Albert was not deprived of his childhood memories, for our memories and our own story is truly who we are. But the feelings of repression and guilt flowing from such memories were certainly a barrier to feeling comfortable in his new role as Abby, and so they melted away, to be replaced with fun-seeking and exhibitionist tendencies and a desire to take risks and enjoy whatever life brings. Albert's years of living in the sexual desert were not suddenly filled with risque escapades, as our experience is all we have. But Abby would have felt quite the outsider, and really rather unable to live in her current world, if she was not now to be blessed with a great boiling desire in her soul for baser pleasures, a knowledge of how to extract them, and a deep interest in the naughty and kinky in the world. Albert's knowledge of his interactions with those that he had learnt from and worked with; colleagues, acquaintances and his few friends, were not erased, as we can be said to be the sum of our relationships. But the content of those conversations, of mathematic formula and political current events, became somehow placed behind a cloud or fog for Abby now, lest such difficult subjects or thoughts make her find it strange that someone of intellectual gifting be engaged in her current profession. In fact such a change was all the better, because Albert had of course wished that *everything* be normal, and so now Abby felt very little concern or worry for the big questions of life, or the plight of the earth's citizens. It all just seemed quite OK. Add to these transformations a few bells and whistles, such as a love and an eye for fashion, an alluring sway to her gait, a more fitting style of speaking and an expertise in hair and make-up, and suddenly the same world that had moments before caused Albert's stomach to tie in knots, now seemed just peachy for little Abby Hale. ----Well, I can hear some of you saying that if we were to be entirely strict, creating a perception of normality might also mean excluding such things as excitement and surprise, but please bear in mind that we are not talking about science here, but rather magic, and in my limited experience, magic always comes with a little, how shall we put it; *personality*. Mercifully I suppose whoever or whatever was in control, looking at the situation before them, and the feelings predominant in Albert's heart, concluded that Albert's plea was really directed at the uncomfortable or unpleasant affects of not finding things as you expect or hope, and decided to leave the rest untouched. However, it should be noted that keeping all happy thoughts while removing all the suspicion and wariness that normally accompanies the unfamiliar did have the effect of a rather amplified positivity and left dear Abby perhaps a trifle na?ve. Ah well, a decision is made in the moment, and not all things can be predicted, even by those who wield great power---- Anyway, on with our story. "Oh wow! That was like,....really cool!" cooed young Abby to no-one in particular. "What was sweetie?" asked Mr Reynard as he completed his entry into the room. "Oh, Hiya Mr Rainy.. Mr Renn.... Mr Bob!" "Just Bob is fine," replied Bob "Okay *Bob*," giggled Abby, leaning sideways to place emphasis on her employer's name, before righting herself, apparently happy to be simply smiling and silent in the middle of the room. "So, what was cool?" asked Bob eventually. "Oh, yeah! I forgot that you wanted to know that. Mmmm.... Yeah, well, it's, like kinda hard to explain but my head went all dizzy and stuff, and then I, like, remembered everything all at once and it was all nausee....nausemati... like, my brain hurt, but then it all became all really nice and I felt all happy, y'know?" Abby looked at Bob with her cute little nose wrinkled up, hoping for a response to her question. Bob didn't answer and instead looked back at Abby with furrowed eyebrows of a little confusion and not insubstantial concern. But that's OK thought Abby, because Mr Bob didn't look unhappy or anything and maybe her question didn't make sense, and that doesn't matter either, it's just funny cause she's such a ditz. She didn't used to be a ditz, she thought, but that's OK, cause it's just funny really and who really cares about knowing stuff anyway. "And now everything's just like, super fantastic!!" she concluded. "Oh good," responded Bob. "Ready to come back down to the shoot?" "Yay!" said Abby, bouncing up and down on the spot for a moment. "That sounds like so much fun! Cause I think I can be really sexy and strike poses for the camera like this" Abby broke off for a moment to turn away, and then looked back over her shoulder and fluttered her eyelashes. "Or like this" This time Abby turned back around, stood on tip-toe, bent at the knee and arched her back, legs pressed firmly together and off to one side, with her hands on her lap. She'd never moved her body anything like this before, so it felt kinda funny, but also, like, totally natural. She realised with a tiny bit of surprise that she really hoped that Bob liked what he saw. From the look in his eyes, she was pretty sure that he did and it made her a little confused but mostly all excited to think about it. "Yes, very nice," agreed Bob "Now why don't we take that attitude down to the studio where it can be caught on film" Abby happily agreed. As they made their way back down the steps, towards the reception area again, Bob being careful to ensure that Abby's bouncing, swaying rear led his way, Bob noted aloud the remarkable turn-around in Abby's feelings about the shoot. Abby stopped on the stairs to think (Not all women can multi-task). It certainly was true that she had been much more worried just a few moments earlier. For the life of her she couldn't imagine now, why posing for a camera would cause her any concern. Sure she had never done it before, but doing new things was fun. And if she messed up then it didn't really matter. She'd just try again. "Um... Yes, I do feel much better now," she said "I think it must be to do with this coin I found. It's like magic or something." Abby turned on the stairs and showed Bob the coin, still held in her hand. Bob's eyes opened wide. In facing Bob on the stairs, Abby had also of course shown him, yet again, a magnificent valley of boob, but it's honestly fair to say that Bob's reaction was in response to the coin, which he had thought was safely locked in his own desk. This might explain the disappearance that morning of his, frankly rather shady, company accountant, thought Bob. "Ah! Yes, right. You know, I've been looking for that....May I have it?" he asked. To her credit, Abby did think about this request for a few moments, though you can probably imagine that her poor little brain wasn't at it's most reliable at that present moment. She knew that she was really, really happy as she was, but she also still remembered that she had desperately wanted to change back to Albert. She couldn't think why she'd want to do that, even if she squeezed her eyebrows together and thought really really hard, but somehow, something still told her that it was important. On the other hand, if Bob was looking for the coin and wanted to have it, then that was good too. It was his company after all, so the coin probably belonged to him. She should just give the coin to Bob now, she decided, and then he'd let her borrow it later so that she could change back to Albert. "OK!" she said brightly. "Can I come and borrow it after the shoot? I need to change everything back to how it was." "Sure, sure" said Bob, rascal that he was, as he carefully took the golden coin from her grasp. "Shall we go on down to the shoot and then, after your done, you can join me in my office. It's the one opposite the room we were just in." Abby handed over the coin with a smile and a single emphatic nod of her head, causing bouncy waves of her blonde hair to fall a little over her eyes. With a giggle at her own clumsiness, she brushed the hair away and who should she see, just entering reception, but her old colleague Dave Pollock, grinning intermittently and looking around nervously while standing at the reception desk. "I'm, um, here to see Albert Hale," he said quietly to the receptionist. "He's doing a visit from the tax office today." Delighted to see someone to whom she could show off what had happened to her, Abby squeeled with delight and ran over to meet him with rapid tiny little steps, each accompanied by a loud clicking of her heel on the hard floor. "Hi Dave!" "Oh... um... hi..... um, hello," mumbled Dave, clearly caught entirely off balance by the unknown gorgeous girl who ran towards him and threw her arms around his neck. "Do I....Sorry....I...um...How do you know my name?" he managed eventually. At this, the stunning blonde girl in the sky blue bikini starred at him for a moment with her big blues eyes, before clasping a dainty little hand to her mouth and collapsing into fits of laughter and giggles. "Oh my god! I'm, like, so stupid! Of course, you don't recognise me!" Dave just mutely shook his head. He could count on one hand all of the genuinely attractive women that he'd ever really spoken to, and he certainly didn't recall the extraordinary beauty now standing before him, her laughter causing her barely covered breasts to bounce and jiggle hypnotically. In some deep recess of his brain, he wondered whether one of the tall stories that he told of his own experience might actually be true. "It's me! Albert!" said the girl, as if this information was news, but nothing to be concerned about. "Sorry?" "I'm Albert" she repeated "Old Bert" she said, in a mock deep voice "Boring old Bert. Oh, Davey, Y'know? You were always right. I needed to learn how to have more fun!" she said again, clapping her hands together, before once again breaking down into laughter. Dave looked around awkwardly, not knowing what to say, and wondering whether he was being filmed for a hidden camera comedy show. Bob had now caught up, but just looked on. With the coin back in his possession, he was sure that the truth would never be believed, and was fascinated to see how this might play out. Dave looked to him with his eyes appealing for help, but Bob just smiled and looked on. "Oh! Dave! Dave!" said Abby, partially regaining her composure "You wanted some photos. Why don't you take some of me?" With this she leant forward to give Dave a good view of her cleavage. A couple of seconds passed without words as Abby waited for Dave to get his camera out and Dave waited for the world to start making sense again. Neither happened. "C'mon Dave. I thought you liked all this stuff" said Abby. "Look at my boobs. They're like, so awesome!" She cupped them in her hands and began to squeeze and jiggle them. She did it to give emphasis to her point, but I can reveal to you that she was also very pleasantly surprised at the little tingles of pleasure that flickered across her skin. "Oooh, that's actually kinda nice," she half-moaned. "Honestly Dave, aren't they great!? They're real and everything" she continued "Look, have a feel yourself." With this, she stepped forward and grabbed Dave's hand before placing it on her left tit. "What do you think?" she asked. "Ah! They're....they're...." Dave started to hyperventilate. "Ohmygod!" whispered Abby, looking Dave up and down. "Have you got a boner Dave?" Dave certainly had got a boner. Quite a boner in fact. And now he squirmed and turned away to try to cover up the fact. Abby on the other hand felt a sudden rush of excitement at the revelation that she had turned this man on; This man who possessed a hard cock. Deep in her mind she knew that this should concern her, maybe even repulse her, but instead she felt elated and powerful. She even noticed a little growing warmth between her own legs when she thought of the growing bulge in Dave's trousers and the fact that it was directed at her. At this point Bob decided that it was best to step in. Amusing as the whole episode had been, he was now realising that it might be best to stop Abby imparting any more information to Dave before Abby said something that made Dave genuinely wonder if there might be something to it. Having a quick think, Bob reasoned that he knew just what might get both Dave and Abby to break off the conversation, thereby giving Bob more time to think about how to get rid of Dave. "Hey Dave" he said, putting a forceful heavy arm around the shoulders of the smaller man. "Why don't you come with us into the studio and take a look at the shoot while I get someone to check whether the person you're looking for is available. MR Hale, was it?" Bob emphasised the word "Mr" while casting a smirking look in the direction of an uncomprehending Abby. "Oh. Err, yes, Mr Albert Hale," confirmed Dave as he helplessly accompanied Bob through the door and out into the studio. Abby, following immediately behind, giggled again at the thought of Dave's reaction to her body, and gave him a playful little slap on the bottom as they left the reception. Just as it was the last time she entered the studio, Abby felt all the eyes in the room turn in her direction, but this time she didn't cower. Instead she smiled back at them all, and walked with her head up and abundant chest pushed out, emphasising each swaying step and drinking in their admiration. She'd never known attention like this and she felt so proud of herself. Who knew it would be so much fun to be a sexy girl, she asked herself. Of course, she knew that it only felt this good because of the magic coin, but that was absolutely fine with her. She thought to herself about how silly she had been when she was a boy; always avoiding doing anything fun. "Hi Abby," called a voice. Turning towards the sound, Abby recognised Sandy. "Hi Sandy!" she squeeled, skipping over to the other girl's side and throwing her arms around her neck "So great to see you again! This is so exciting!" "Oh, I'm so glad you think so!" replied Sandy a little surprised by Abby's enthusiasm. "OK ladies. Let's get this show on the road." called out the photographer. Abby turned to him and flashed him her biggest smile. Without even being asked, Abby pressed herself into Sandy's body, wrapping her arm around Sandy's waist and then turned her hip outwards to show a three quarter view to the camera. "Oooh Sandy, you're skin is so soft!" she whispered. "You'll have to tell me what moisturiser you use. We could go shopping together for products and stuff. That would be so much fun! And maybe we could find some clothes as well, cause I saw this little dress in the shop on the way over, which would just be, like, so amazing on you." "That's so sweet of you to think of me," replied Sandy "I'd love to show you this cute street I know. They've got these great little lingerie boutiques." "Keep the chatting for later," called the photographer. "Show me those fabulous smiles ladies." Abby and Sandy giggled at the admonishment and complied with the instructions, smiling and then pouting at the camera as the flashbulbs fired again and again. "Why don't you place your hand down here" said Sandy to Abby, bringing Abby's arm from Sandy's waist round to her bottom "and place your other hand on my boob". "Hee hee! OK!" giggled Abby complying gleefully. "Oh, you have such a nice bum!" she whispered to Sandy, giving it a good squeeze. This was all so new to Abby, but it also felt so natural, and she loved how she felt like she was able to do whatever she wanted. She felt butterflies in her stomach at the idea of being so free with her body, but whereas that feeling would have made Albert run away and hide, Abby felt only the thrill and attraction of new experience. Abby spent the next few minutes striking poses to show off every little bit of her body, or even better, to playfully hint at showing it off. She bent over a couch, pushing up her bum and looking back over her shoulder; She ran her hands through her thick hair and arched her back; Finally, she threaded her fingers though the string of her little thong, and pulled it forward, creating an agonisingly teasing little gap for the cameras. About half way through, Abby noticed Bob and Dave standing watching them at the back of the room. How nice, she thought for Bob to be there for her on her first shoot. He was such a nice man for letting her borrow his magic coin thingy. She gave a smile just for him to make sure that he knew she was grateful. She also made sure to frequently turn just so, to give Dave the sight of his life. He still looked completely stunned. Abby giggled cause it was so funny. Of course, it didn't hurt that it also gave big strong Bob a good view too. He was so dreamy, she thought. Eventually the photographer decided that it was time to move on to the next set of shots. "OK girls. Time to get those tops off," he called. Abby felt a little shiver up her spine. She was going to show all of these people her boobies! Deep inside she knew that this should unnerve her. After all, she'd only got her lovely boobs today, and even she hadn't seen them naked before. Also, she knew that she never would have been OK doing this as Albert. She remembered trips to the beach when he'd procrastinated about even wearing swimming trunks. Abby blushed as she remembered that, as Albert, she had even investigated whether they still made full length swimming suits for men. Now all of that felt completely silly. There's nothing wrong with being naked, she thought, even if it did make her giggle because it was a little bit naughty! "Why don't we do some stripping shots," said Sandy. "Build up to the big event" The photographer agreed and soon Sandy had removed her own top and had positioned herself behind Abby. Abby felt Sandy's soft boobs pressing into her back and then the slight pull on her chest as Sandy untied the knot at her neck and then the last knot at her back. Abby was now aware that all that stood between the world and a perfect view of her nipples was the loose grip of a glamour model called Sandy. She felt an immense thrill at the precariousness of the situation. Albert had always ensured that there were double and triple safety mechanisms to guard against any risk, especially risks of impropriety. Now Sandy playfully ran the thin strings between her fingers, just barely maintaining the required tension while the photographer's camera flashed away. Sandy and Abby giggled together as the fabric slipped slightly back and forth, allowing Abby to see fleeting glimpses of the darker skin of her new large areola and begin to feel the full weight on her chest of her less and less supported breasts. Finally, without warning and with a little trill, Sandy whipped the bikini top away. Abby gasped in happy shock as her boobs bounced lightly up and down. "Got it!" said the man behind the camera. "Super-cute shot." Abby grinne