Testing WhimChapter 2 Testing
- 2 years ago
- 9
- 0
Testing Ground Pt 1 free porn video
Testing Ground
(1)
We'd knocked off of work a little sooner than we should have, but the
weather was great - perfect spring day, a cool breeze mixed with
sunshine. An extra hour to hike. A stupid New Year's resolution to better
enjoy the nature in our town, but a resolution we'd somehow stuck with.
Once a week or more, just for an hour, but without fail. Besides, Grant
almost always had really nice weed.
Today, getting off work earlier and with more daylight to burn, Grant and
I got further up the trail than we ever had. Usually we had to rush back,
him to feed his dog, me to clear my head from smoking our usual joint-
and-a-half before starting my second job, my night job, at the bar.
We came to a clearing with a perfect view of the near-trickle of a stream
below and the south face of the cliff. There were three boulders, two
perfect for sitting, one functioning as a table in the middle. It looked
natural, but seemed by design.
"Paul -- you see this? Paul!" He had to call me out twice or more to get
my attention; I always was more affected than he was by weed. But when I
finally responded, he was pointing at some scratching in the table.
"Here be the testing grounds," I read aloud. "Let he who triumphs unman
the loser."
I laughed.
"I didn't realize this trail was made by pirates. Hah."
Grant checked his watch.
"We still have some time. Quick Scrab?"
"Sure."
Grant and I both worked at a magazine - me as a writer, him as a
copyeditor - and fancied ourselves expert wordsmiths and Scrabble
players, but the truth was we were both just barely okay at the game. I
played online sometimes and got my butt kicked regularly. Grant never
played online and was kind of oblivious at how mediocre he really was.
Still, we sometimes played at work, just making one move every fifteen
minutes or so on a card table we set up between our cubicles. And we
usually played once a week on our lunch breaks, on those rare occasions
we got lunch breaks. Grant had a travel board where the pieces would push
into little grooves, and since we'd left so early for our hike, he
figured why not take the game, I guess.
I usually had trouble playing when high, but I still managed to pull out
a win. Three Bingos. Granted, I drew both blanks, the J, and the X during
the game, and Grant was left holding the Q when I finished.
I realize this is unremarkable. Perhaps I mention it to contrast with
what happened next, to juxtapose the mundane with the truly miraculous.
Or maybe I am just such a dork I have to be very specific about Scrabble
victories.
In any case, he said something like "shit, you win," and I laughed,
pointed to the message scratched in the natural table we were playing on,
and responded with something like "and now ye be unmanned," in my best
pirate voice.
And then, somehow, he was.
There was a sickening squishing noise, and I felt dizzy, like something
was just off, kind of how you feel in an earthquake. Grant was emitting
some sort of deflated cough, which turned into an odd chirp, and then the
world righted itself. I took a deep breath. The cold air felt good. And
Grant screamed. Like really screamed.
It was obvious that the woman still sitting on the small rock was Grant,
or used to be grant. She was wearing - swimming in -- his clothes, still
had his hairstyle (which is to say, sort of floppy emo kid hair), same
coloration. Grant grabbed his chest. He tentatively felt his crotch. He
screamed again.
"What the fuck just happened?" He - well, she, fine - screeched.
"Fuck if I know," I said. But it was too stupid and cute and obvious to
be true - by playing a game on the "testing grounds" table, and losing,
Grant had been transformed into a woman.
He calmed down, took another hit off our joint, and packed up the
Scrabble game.
"I'm going to have to hike back in my socks," she said. "My shoes are
just way too big now."
She ended up cinching her belt tight and cuffing and rolling her pant
legs.
"Okay, I think I can walk now."
"You want to go home like this?"
"What choice do I have? At least I live alone. Maybe it'll go away."
"If not?"
"I'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
Grant complained about how slow she was walking. About how her ass felt
huge. It kind of was. I ended up carrying her backpack, as well as my
own. It felt like the gentlemanly thing to do, and made her sort of angry
when I offered, but she let me.
I dropped her off at home and told her I'd call her later. When I walked
into the bar to start my shift, the weed had mostly worn off but I was
still highly distracted. I was lucky that it wasn't very busy that night,
unusual for a Friday. Darlene, who usually co-tended with me, asked what
was up. I just told her I'd had a weird day.
I called Grant at about midnight. A sweet voice answered.
"Paul."
"Still a woman?"
"Obviously."
"Okay. If you want to come to the bar, drinks are on me."
I felt guilty. If he'd won, maybe I'd be a woman. Not sure how I would
have explained that to Darlene.
"Not going out like this. But thanks."
I promised him I'd check on him the next day. I did, and the news wasn't
good. Grant was still very much female.
"At least you have no obligations until Monday," I said. I'd actually
gone over to her place because she hadn't picked up the phone.
"True," she said. "But I really don't want to be inside feeling sorry for
myself all weekend. I need to get out. But I need clothes. At least
shoes."
We made a trip to the thrift store. Prices weren't as low as I'd expected
- which mattered because I bought Grant's new outfit. I still felt
guilty.
"How about this?" I'd said, holding up a skirt.
"How about not," she'd responded. In the end, she found some pants that
almost fit, some motorcycle boots that almost fit, and a sports bra that
ended up fitting somewhat poorly, but she decided was better than
nothing. Grant thought her still-too-large t-shirt would be fine. Still,
just pants, used underwear (yuck) and shoes set me back almost $60. Some
thrift store. But Grant was more comfortable, and that was enough.
We went back to her place and smoked a joint.
"Have you, you know, tested your equipment?" I asked.
"None of your business."
"C'mon."
"I had some fun with these," she said, grabbing her now-constrained
breasts. "I've actually been a little afraid to go the other place."
We sat in silence for a good 10 minutes.
"Well, fuck. Sorry again this happened."
"It'll be something to write about, if nothing else," she said.
I had to work again on Saturday, and didn't talk to Grant until Sunday
mid-morning. She was still a woman, and sounding increasingly panicky.
"What am I going to do, Paul? I can't go to work like this," she said on
the phone.
"Give it another day. If you can't make it to work Monday, I'll tell them
you're sick. Badly sick. Okay? At least that'll buy some time. Then we
can figure out if we need to see a doctor or something."
"Paul. We might have to go back to the place where it happened. I might
need to win a game there."
"Against me? I'm not going to be a girl, Grant."
"I don't know. Maybe there's a loophole. I can play a computer game on my
phone at the table and win or something. Or there might be another clue
there."
"Oh, weird idea. Maybe. I'll go with you back up there Monday after I get
off work if we need to try."
I called stopped at Grant's place on Sunday night. Still female. I
offered to buy her some dinner.
"Not hungry."
"Not even for Chic-Fil-a?"
"Nope."
She was wearing a dress.
"What's with the clothes?"
"Oh, I figured I needed something to wear out in case this keeps rolling.
And those thrifted clothes just weren't comfortable. I got a bra fitting.
This dress. Some sandals. Paid with my credit card. They almost didn't
take it since they thought it wasn't mine, but I convinced them it was my
boyfriend's and it was okay. Kind of humiliating. I almost cried. Like
for real."
"Sorry," I said.
She looked at me. "I think it's really getting to me. I wish I would just
go to sleep tonight and when I woke up everything would be back to
normal."
Which is pretty much what happened. The net day at work, Grant - the male
version, looking very relieved, said he'd woken up around 2 a.m. still
female, had used the toilet, gone back to bed, but woke up his old self.
"Thank god," I said.
"Yeah, thank god. But now that we know that it wears off, we need to try
it again."
"You're crazy. Never."
(2)
We were hiking again. Back to the place.
"We need to find out the rules. The limitations. This is something truly
miraculous."
"Are you really that anxious to have boobs again, Grant?" I asked.
He smirked.
"I think you'll be a woman soon."
I had arranged to take off work from the bar, just in case. It was Spring
Break at the local college anyway, so most of our clientele would be out
of town. They didn't really need me.
"You bring the Scrabble again?" I asked.
"Oh, so you can win again? No. We're doing something else this time."
"So what's in the bag?"
His sack looked fuller than it had been on our last trip.
"Clothes. Someone's going to lose. Someone will need new shoes at the
very least. Walking this trail in socks was nasty."
We shared a joint, per usual. My head was swimming by the time we got to
the "testing grounds" rock.
We examined the area for more signs, statements or clues. Nothing.
"Okay, first up - the experiment. I'm going to play a game of chess
against the computer on my phone. I'll lose. If that transforms me, then
it'll suggest it's not necessary for two people to change back again."
He lost. Nothing happened.
"Okay, our turn. Let's go."
"What game did you bring?"
He leaned over the table.
"No game. Arm wrestling. An actual contest of strength. Thought about
cards, but seems more appropriate for a test of manhood."
I shrugged.
"So be it."
I was pretty sure I would take him. He was skinny, and I worked out a lot
more. But Grant somehow had leverage, or motivation. After he counted
three, I found myself on the edge of losing. I felt like I put up a good
fight - and I didn't want to give up - but I got to a point where I just
couldn't fight it anymore. The back of my hand hit the stone and a very
similar sickening, going-through-an-earthquake sensation - like the one
I'd experienced last week, but stronger - hit me hard.
I fell off my rock. Everything felt wrong.
"Did it happened? Am I a woman?" I asked. My voice was high pitched.
Comically so. I'd answered my own question.
Grant laughed.
"Oh, man, it feels so nice to win. Come on, Paul, get up. Let me help
you."
He grabbed my arm and pulled me off the ground, seemingly a little too
easily. My head was up to his chest rather than his nose.
"I'm short."
"Here," he said. "Get dressed. It'll make the walk back easier."
"Fine," I said. He grabbed his backpack. "There better not be a skirt in
here."
"No - I couldn't be sure what size you'd be as a lady. That was another
question - would you be the same size and stuff as I was last week? I
don't think so. You're shorter. Plumper. And - sorry for looking - I
don't think your chest is quite so big."
I felt myself up. It felt plenty big to me.
"I thought these would work," he said, holding up a pair of denim overall
shorts. "Pretty roomy, room for error, you know. Straps to hold 'em up if
nothing else. Plus that exercise bra. And a small shirt."
I made Grant turn his back. I took my overly large guy clothes off,
except my boxers. I pulled the job bra over my chest. Seemed fine. The
black t-shirt seemed new; the material was soft. I climbed into the
overall shorts and closed the side buttons and fastened the straps to the
bib. They had a flower stitched onto the bib's large front pocket and
little flowers stitched near the waist pockets. There were two pairs of
shoes in his bag, both simple white canvas shoes, one ladies' size six,
the other eight. The smaller ones fit me better.
"Okay, let's be off," I said.
He laughed a little when he turned around.
"You look kind of cute, Paul," he said.
"Asshole, did I laugh at you last week?"
"No, but we know now that it's temporary, so I think we can have a little
fun."
He started snapping pictures with his phone.
"Dude, stop," I said. "No pics!"
"Sorry, I insist on a selfie. Try to smile. Then I'll stop."
He put his arm around my shoulder and snapped a pic of the two of us
together.
"You done?"
"Just a sec."
He fiddled with the phone for a minute.
"Just uploaded to Facebook. 'Me and my gal Paula.'"
"Asshole!" I said, and swatted at him ineffectually. "You want people to
find out about this? I certainly don't want anybody to see me like this."
"They'll never know it's you, Paul."
He was probably right. I let it go. We started the hike back down the
trail.
"Listen ? I think we need to take advantage of this," he said when we
were about halfway down.
"How?"
"I don't know. Find out how the other half lives. I mean we need to take
our measurements, buy some clothes, really forge some second identities.
Just fun."
"That does sound kind of fun in theory," I said. "But speaking as the one
who currently has a rack?"
"?and a hell of an ass," Grant interrupted.
"Oh my god. Whatever. Speaking as the current female, I'm not feeling
like it's so fun."
It was true. The new swing in my stride and the sort of quiver in my
backside were alien to me.
"Maybe it'll grow on you. We'll hit the farmer's market tomorrow. Maybe
you can cook me dinner. Or we can go to the beach. You can see what it's
like to wear a bikini."
"No."
"Okay. We'll figure it out."
We took a rest a few minutes later at a scenic grove where a certain kind
of moth tends to hang out during this season. There was a couple there;
Grant and the man knew each other.
"Raj! How long has it been? Why are you in town?"
"Too long!" he said. "This is my fianc? Dana. Dana, this is my old friend
Grant, from college."
"Hi, nice to meet you," she said. He returned the greeting and introduced
me as "Paula."
"Ah, your girlfriend?" Raj asked.
"No, you're thinking of Jessica. She and I broke it off years ago. No,
Paula and I are just co?"
He was about to say "coworkers," so I interrupted him and abruptly
interjected "good friends."
"I see," said Raj. He clearly didn't. He thought we were on a date.
Dana and I ended up chatting as Raj and Grant caught up. They were in
town for just a night, passing through on the way up north to see his
parents.
"They hated me at first, since I'm not Indian, but his sister got engaged
to an Indian guy, so at least one of their kids is 'doing it right,'" she
said. "So now they like me just fine. Or seem to anyway. They aren't
great at hiding their emotions."
Dana was cute. She was wearing tight beige hiking shorts that showed off
her tanned, toned legs.
"So how long have you and Grant been 'friends'?"
"No, really, we're just friends. I'm really not his type," I said.
"Why, he doesn't like cute girls?"
I could feel my face getting red.
"Well, um, maybe he's not my type."
"That's more like it."
We talked about restaurants in town that Raj and Dana could make it to
without a reservation. She said we should come along, but I flatly
refused.
"I'm not dressed for it."
"You could always go home and change. We have time."
Grant overheard this part of the conversation and jumped in.
"No, she's right ? we do kind of have plans. How about we hang out when
you guys come back down?"
That was good enough for Dana. We parted shortly thereafter, Grant and I
heading back to the car and Raj and Dana exploring the trail further,
though it was getting a little dark.
"See, that's what I want to try," Grant said. "Talking to another woman
as a woman. Wasn't it just different? Didn't you feel some connection?"
"No, I mostly felt uncomfortable and like I was a fraud," I said. "And I
felt gross, because she's way cute, and I'm probably a little dumpy and
dressed like a grade school girl in overalls with little flowers on
them."
"She's cute, but girl-you is not ugly. Paul. Not that it matters."
We got to the car.
"Anyways, I should drive. If you got pulled over, you have no photo ID,
no license."
It was true. I lent him my keys and bucked into the passenger seat.
The first thing I did when we got to my place was run for the toilet. I
had never really thought about it, but having to carefully unbuckle and
gather the straps, lest they fall in the fucking toilet, was a pain in
the ass and I almost pissed my pants for taking too long. But ultimately
my first piss with girl parts turned out fine.
After I refastened everything and washed my hands, I took a peek in the
mirror. Chubby cheeks, nice full lips, narrow eyes, bit of a pug nose.
Not especially cute, but just fine, a normal looking young woman with a
bit of a butchy haircut. I looked a little like my sister. Just shorter
and slightly plumper. I'd never want her to see me like this. Howls of
laughter would ensue, assuming she could figure out it was me. I checked
out the full-length mirror on the door. Grant had been kind of right ? I
did look a little cute, like a reluctant tomboy, in this get-up.
This was the first thing I resolved to change.
"I need better clothes," I announced when I reentered the living room.
"Yes, you do," he agreed. "We both do. Tomorrow, we're going shopping for
you, and for 'girl me.' Get a bra fitting. Maybe a makeover. We need to
learn to do makeup. We've got to be convincing. If we're going to fit
in."
I felt a sinking in the pit of my stomach. That hadn't exactly been what
I'd had in mind.
Nadine
- 24.04.2020
- 8
- 0
