Cosplayers Of Gor - Part 1 free porn video

Late last year as everyone knows something out of the ordinary happened at Kubla Con, the big annual SF and media convention taking place in Xanadu, a large conference centre in Orlando, Florida. A costuming event run in conjunction with Kubla Con had attracted thousands of people to take part in the show with a rich eccentric sponsor offering big money prizes for the best costumes and presentations. During the event strange changes, weird powers and arcane capabilities were bestowed on many of the attendees. Magic was loosed and many were never the same again. Some fortunate people escaped the chaos unscathed though. Or did they? Note: Xanadu is a shared-universe storyline concept originally created by Bryan Derksen for the Transformation Stories Archive. Bryan says we can play in his yard as much as we like. https://shifti.org/wiki/Xanadu_%28setting%29 -------------------------------------------------------- Cosplayers of Gor - chapter 1. by Albedo. The waiting-room door opened and a woman's head peered in. There was something odd about her appearance, Bob thought to himself... "Monsieur James? Docteur Farnsworth will see you now." Her voice was throaty with a distinct accent. What he had seen here at the Xanadu Institute already had partially immunised him to weird though so he simply stood up, bag in hand. The door opened wider, revealing the tall statuesque woman to be dressed in what he belatedly recognized as a rather risque French maid's outfit. He hesitated at the sight then, gripping his bag more firmly, advanced towards the door. The maid pirouetted on one impossibly tall spike heel, her short black skirt flaring up with a flurry of creamy petticoats to reveal a flash of frilly white satin underwear and garterstraps holding up seamed smoky- black stockings. Xanadu, he thought to himself as he followed the wasp-waisted figure tick-tacking down the short corridor, her hips swinging rhythmically. In other circumstances he would have enjoyed the view immensely but unless the Xanadu Institute's version of Dress Down Friday included fetishwear then his receptionist was another victim of the magical events at Xanadu and that rather put a crimp on his sense of pleasure at the sight before him. His own circumstances were a case in point; the supremely feminine figure wriggling its way down the corridor possibly wasn't even a woman -- at least to begin with. His own transformations were temporary but the French maid might be a permanent addition to the research centre's "staff" in that form. At least she's still human, he mused, but then again his own occasional journeys to the Land of Femininity left him in a similar condition, at least until he could change back. He hefted the bag again, listening to the detested clink of its contents. It was a sound he was all too intimately familiar with. Perhaps this Doctor Farnsworth could put an end to his transformations... But why had he been asked to bring the things in the bag along with him? The click-clack of the well-built maid's heels stopped at a door, bringing him up short. She knocked and a male voice answered. Bob entered as the maid/receptionist opened the door for him, bending forward to give him a fine view of the fleshy globes contained by the scoop front of her abbreviated maid outfit. Eyes front, Bob. Docteur, uh Doctor Farnsworth was a slim balding man in a smart tailored suit and stylish glasses. He stood up behind his desk to shake Bob's hand firmly. Bob noticed his discreet but expensive-looking wristwatch, further indicating that the doc seemed to be pretty well off financially speaking. Bob took the offered seat and gratefully dropped his bag to one side. The French maid followed him in, closed the door and stood quietly in a corner, hands folded in front of her abbreviated skirt. "Good morning, Mr..." Farnsworth checked some notes on his desk. "Ah, Mr. James. I'm sorry I wasn't able to meet with you before today but it's been a bit hectic here and we've been prioritising the, uh, more problematic cases first." He looked up and smiled. "Xanadu, you understand." Xanadu. Bob nodded. Doctor Farnsworth pressed a button on his desk and said, "Recording of interview one with Bob James, Xanadu Incident case number, uhhh," he rummaged through his notes, "four seven five five. Statutory notice, this recording and subsequent transcription are held securely under Xanadu Institute rules." He nodded at Bob. "We record and transcribe all interviews with Xanadu victims for our records and future research efforts into the Xanadu Effect. Official warning, if you do not agree to the recordings being made and studied by selected researchers you can leave now but we will not be able to assist you any further. Do you understand?" "Uh, yes." Bob was beyond grasping at straws and the Institute seemed to be the only place where anyone was doing anything serious about folks like himself who were affected by what had happened that day at the Kubla Con convention where the costuming event had been held. After the press frenzy had died down it seemed somehow that the world had sort-of forgotten Xanadu had happened at all. The tabloids occasionally ran a story on Barney the dinosaur or the dragons or the mermaids or other big Xanadu cases but mostly it had been a nine-day wonder like pet rocks. Everyone thought that magic, real magic was sorta ho-hum for some reason and he was tired of waking up like-- "Yes, I agree." "Very well. I have some notes about your case but for the record can you tell me in your own words what happened to you at Xanadu and subsequently. It will assist us if you start with your plans for attending the Xanadu costuming event, why you went and tell us about your companion." Doctor Farnsworth sat back in his chair. Bob thought for a moment and then started to speak. "Uh, my girlfriend Alice, she was my girlfriend at the time anyway, we had a bet and I lost and..." * * * * * * * * It wasn't as bad as he had feared. The convention centre in Orlando where Kubla Con and the costume competition were being held was crazy with people - he presumed they were people, it was hard to tell sometimes - in truly weird costumes whereas what he was wearing was just silly if somewhat embarrassing but he had lost the bet so... "Come, Bibi!" Alice-currently-known-as-Arrass pulled on the leash attached to his collar. "Stop gawking, slave!" There was a lot to gawk about but he followed her as obediently as he could, given the distractions around them. Stormtroopers, Aliens, an Alien Stormtrooper? A pair of Predators pushing a baby buggy with a miniature Predator that moved - an animatronic puppet or a real kid made up to look like their parents? A dragon that was at least twenty feet long with flashing eyes and smoking mouth, a mermaid in a powered wheelchair pushing people out of her way with a trident, two very realistic-looking centaurs texting on their phones... The dice had gone sour on him at their D&D session the week before last, after he had agreed to attend Xanadu with Alice. He had scored a couple of comp tickets to the convention thanks to his part-time job at the gaming store and he figured it was a chance to get Alice into something sexy. He was on a roll in the game after the previous session and he staked his lead on making a bet with her that the winner would decide what sort of costumes they would wear. Sadly for him after the dust died down his rogue character had been curb-stomped by a war elephant that had appeared out of nowhere and she got to choose their outfits instead. "So have you got any ideas?" he asked as they packed up their playing gear after the session was over. "Some." Alice had that smile on her face, the one he had come to dread when facing off against her across a gaming table. "You know those books you like, the ones you keep pushing on me?" "The Gor books?" He had a bad feeling about this. He had loaned her the books in a vain attempt to see if she was into roleplaying of a different sort - she was a LARPer as well as playing tabletop D&D, a swordswoman in a small group of costumed gamers who went out into the woods occasionally to act out fights and such. It wasn't his thing, he was a bit more sedentary but the idea of Alice acting as his Gorean slave-girl while he lorded it over her was something he really wanted to try. If he had won the bet then it would have been a shoo-in and he would have been leading Alice as a skimpily-dressed slave around the halls at Xanadu. However... "Arrass" was a barbarian warrior figure with a ring-mail hauberk and woolen trews, a shortsword at "his" waist and a fur-lined cape around "his" shoulders. Thanks to regular sword practice for the LARP events and being pretty tall to start with Alice had enough muscle and bulk to carry it off. Some fake spray-on stubble and tight strapping of her otherwise-substantial chest completed the disguise to the point where even looking closely it was pretty much impossible to recognise the girl underneath. She even had a swaggering masculine walk down pat. Slave "Bibi"'s appearance on the other hand was not quite as convincing. After losing the bet and hearing what Alice wanted them to do they had decided to just go for laughs in his case. He had a pair of fake joke-shop breasts glued to his shaven chest with small water balloons inside to make them bounce and sway to a ridiculous extent. His costume consisted of silk ribbons here and there and some tight strapping in the crotch to hide his maleness, such as it was. The velcro collar around his neck was another joke-shop item as were the cheap Chinese handcuffs and legcuffs he wore on his wrists and ankles. He was naturally slim which helped, a bit. A long blonde wig also from the joke-shop on his head, a really close shave and some surprisingly understated but effective makeup on his face courtesy of Alice and from a distance someone with bad eyesight might have been deceived as to his real gender. Might. "Yes, master!" he trilled and he scurried after her, trying not to trip on the long chain between his ankles. He knew he was attracting some attention even among the other more spectacular and accomplished costumers around him but he was a slave, wasn't he? Playacting the part gave him a surprisingly liberating feeling, he wasn't doing anything wrong looking like this after all since he was the property of Alice, sorry "Arrass". Maybe he should give the LARP group a try after this was over, he mused, but not while he was dressed like this. Some kind of rogue/thief character would work, heh even a female one... The leash on his collar jerked taut. "Keep up, lazy girl!" Alice growled. She slowed her stride to let him catch up a bit. "Thank you, master! You're so kind to me, master! I don't deserve you, ma-" "Don't push it, slave." She put her hand on her swordbelt, close to where a joke-store whip was also hanging. "Sarcasm is not becoming in a kajira, remember?" That wasn't actually what was written in the books, he thought to himself but Alice's reading of them had been perfunctory at best. Her outfit didn't really match the book description of a Gorean Warrior either but it was what she had to hand plus what she could borrow from her LARPer friends. They had been promised pictures in return. "C'mon, the first prize-giving session will be taking place soon." She jerked the leash again, not too hard since the velcro holding the collar in place wasn't that strong. They didn't really expect to get any of the big prize money on offer, especially since they had seen the quality of the competition they were up against but there were spot prizes handed out by mystery judges and it was possible one of them would find their cross-gender routine worthy of reward. He followed obediently while trying to put some hippiness into his walk, constrained as it was by the leg-irons around his ankles. Alice was really getting into it, he mused as they approached the main hall doorway, but then again the LARPing she did probably contributed to that. He could immerse himself a bit in the D&D games but he didn't think of himself as a shadowy thief and assassin while rolling the dice and imbibing unnatural amounts of Mountain Dew, it was just a boardgame being played around a table in someone's front room with the lights on. Swinging a sword around and chasing each other through the bushes in a park on a regular basis took a bit more effort on disengagement from the real world than he was really prepared to put in. He might give it a try though-- There was a sudden commotion ahead of them at the doorway of the main hall and as they stopped something came bursting out into the corridor, a wavering distortion like nothing he had ever seen before. It washed over them, twisting and blurring and he fell to the ground, unconscious. * * * * * * * * "When I woke up I was outside on a park bench where the medics had dumped me while they dealt with more serious cases. I was still me although I didn't think that was particularly surprising, until I got home and heard on the news what had happened to a lot of other folks." Bob scratched his head. "It was kinda weird going home dressed like I was, especially with the cuffs and such but one of the paramedics cut the chains for me so I could actually drive. Alice still had the cuff keys and I couldn't find her in the crush afterwards. Luckily her car was still in the car park and there were a set of holdout keys for it tucked away under the back wheelarch." "So you didn't actually become female at Xanadu then?" Farnsworth probed. "Not that I remember. I might have changed while I was unconscious but if I did I changed back before I woke up again. Everything was where it shoulda been, I even still had that damn crotch strap in place and the fake tits glued to my chest. God they took some getting off afterwards, Alice used some seriously strong glue -" "Ah, Alice. What of her?" Bob looked disconsolate. "I don't know what happened to her. I looked for her but the cops had sealed off the convention centre with barricades and trucks so I couldn't get back in to find her there. I waited at her car for her until it was getting dark but she didn't show. I asked at a couple of places around the convention centre but, well it was chaos and no-one really knew anything. I phoned her place when I got back home, left messages, texted her, got in touch with her friends but bupkis. After a few days I sorta lost hope. I registered with the Xanadu investigation organisation when they set up a contact page, you know the "Were you at Xanadu? Do you know someone who was?" website thing. I reported her as missing, I expect her family and other friends did the same." "So what happened next?" Bob thought for a moment. "It was about a week later, maybe six days or so. I was asleep in my room, in bed." He paused. "Yeah, I remember I was definitely on the bed to start with..." * * * * * * * * Strange dream, Bob thought. It was about Alice, of course, her disappearance had been on his mind since they had got separated at the convention. This time it was somehow a recap of the events before some kind of magical effect had swept out of the main hall and caused the chaos and confusion that had subsequently astounded the world. He was dressed as a slave girl just like before and Alice, no Arrass was leading him on a leash just like before but somehow it seemed realler, his breasts felt heavier and attached to his chest by more than simple glue. The crotch strap didn't chafe and crush delicate tissues and the collar around his neck felt more substantial than it had before. His hips swung more freely too as he scurried after the broad male back of his Master, chains jangling. Suddenly Arrass stopped and turned and Bob looked up into his face. Arrass reached out a hand and pulled him up on tiptoes, kissing him forcefully and leaving Bob breathless. After he was released, his heart pounding, Arrass scratched his stubbly chin while staring into Bob's wide eyes. "The furs for you tonight, my little talender." And then Bob jolted awake. Where am I? That was easy to answer as he looked around his room, although he seemed to be lying on something soft on the floor rather than on his bed. His heart leapt at his second thought. Who am I? He looked down at the obviously fake breasts glued to his chest again, the silk ribbons and the handcuffs on his wrists although the fake breasts seemed realler than before and the handcuffs weren't cheap chrome-plated Chinese restraints but slimmer, more elegant bracelets that were form-fitting around his too-slim wrists. As he brought his hands up to examine the cuffs more closely the short chain between the two wrist-rings dragged across one erect nipple on his fake breasts and he stopped breathing as the rough sensation informed him the fake breasts weren't actually fake and glue was not involved this time. They're real! I've got real breasts! What the... He tried to sit up but fell back as something around his neck jerked him back down. He rolled over on the brown furs - furs? - to see a chain hanging from a ring on the end of his bed, well someone's bed. It was a heavy wooden construction, almost like a large platform rather than the lightweight Goodwill store futon-frame he had gone to sleep in the night before. The chain disappeared under his chin and he was less surprised than he expected to find it connected to a collar around his throat when he traced its end. The collar was metal, not plastic like the joke-shop costume item, smooth and rounded and, as his fingers confirmed, without any velcro closure or the like, only something that felt like a lock of some kind. There was a small ring on the side close to the lock where, he traced it with his finger, the chain running from the bed end terminated. There were cuffs around his ankles too, similar but maybe a bit bigger than the wrist cuffs and connected by maybe a foot of slim gleaming chain. He was getting a bad feeling about this. He quickly glanced around, confirming once again he was in his own room, the dresser and chair, the open laptop, early morning daylight leaking through the torn blinds over the grubby window, a stain resulting from beer pong gone wrong on the carpet over by the door. He relaxed slightly - he might be a girl at the moment with tits and all, chained to a bed and lying on furs but he was still on planet Earth. The alternative of being a girl chained to a bed and lying on furs on somewhere like the planet Gor like in those books was not a pleasant alternative to consider, tits or no tits. Okay, am I really a girl? He explored his crotch with his chained hands and yes, what had been down there was not down there any more, replaced by girl-type bodily structures he had only second-hand knowledge of up till now. He left the soft lips alone, suddenly squeamish about handling something that was very foreign to his previous twenty-plus years of maleness. Besides this body wasn't his but it might be someone else's... A sudden thought, he checked his legs and sure enough there was a scarred area on the left thigh, a brand of some kind. So it is the Gor books. And Xanadu. He had been turned into a slave, a kajira and it was probably due to whatever had caused all the changes at the convention, some kind of wild magic. He slumped back, thinking hard and trying not to get distracted by the liquidly mobile mass of his breasts as gravity had their wicked way with them. Why had he become a kajira several days after the event? Why hadn't it happened right there and then, while he was dressed like one? Was he stuck like this, permanently? Real news about Xanadu had been actually quite sparse, other than something weird had happened. People had been changed, monsters brought to life but from a few reports it seemed the magic, if that was what it had been, had a trickster feel to it, changing people into what their costumes had suggested they wanted to be. He had only been play-acting as a slave girl for Alice's benefit so maybe that was why he had escaped that fate earlier but if so why had he changed now, so long after the event? He hadn't heard of any ongoing changes, even the internet rumour mills hadn't suggested there was anything new happening, just the round up of escapees and sightings of assorted creatures, aliens, wizards, robots, ghosts, superheroes, supervillains and living cartoon characters of all stripes while the authorities tried to keep a lid on things. He decided to worry about that later. Okay, first things first, how do I get free? A quick tug at the chain linking his collar to the ring fixed to the end of the heavy bed showed it wasn't going to give way easily. Assuming his current situation was based on the Gor books, slave girls didn't free themselves simply by pulling on the chains restraining them. There was no easy-to-open velcro fastenings on the collar, no trick catches on the "slave bracelets". He peered at the bright steel circlets holding his wrists close together. There were tiny keyholes close to a hair-thin join in the metal rings but he didn't have any keys. Or did he? A quick search of the area he could reach within the limits of the collar chain revealed nothing that was of any help in gaining his freedom. There was nothing on his body either, other than the silk ribbons and of course the collar and bracelets. And breasts. And labia and... he shook his head. Deal with that later. There was something else that was making itself known, something that felt very much like but wasn't exactly like bladder pressure as he had previously experienced it. Oh. There was nothing else for it. "Charlie!" he shouted, his voice unsurprisingly high-pitched. "Hey, Charlie? I could use some help here!" He just hoped the guy he shared the apartment with was actually home this morning rather than having been called out somewhere overnight for a job, something that happened quite often. "Charlie?" Charlie was home. The bedroom door opened a couple of minutes later and the bear-like figure of Charlie stepped in, scratching his shaggy hair. "Who's shout-" His eyes opened wide on seeing a gorgeous blonde girl in silk ribbons and handcuffs chained to the bottom of the bed. Bob held up his braceleted hands to try and forestall a lot of miscommunication. "Charlie, shut up and listen. It's me, Bob. Xanadu did this, OK?" Charlie shut up and listened. After a brief explanation he nodded at the female figure. "I'll go get my tools," he said over his shoulder as he lumbered through the door. It was something Bob liked about Charlie, he was pretty much unflappable. It was also something he had a real problem with Charlie as a flatmate, getting a rise from him was nearly impossible. Bob squirmed on the furs, his bladder was making more and more demands on his attention and it wasn't like he could tie a knot in it any more. Charlie reappeared in a few moments with a toolbox in each hand. Bob interrupted before he could start work. "Priority one, Charlie. I really need to take a slash, like ten minutes ago. Can you break me loose from this bed first?" Charlie nodded and extracted a pair of boltcroppers from one of the toolboxes. He heaved, grunted and the collar chain parted with a sharp ting! Bob scrambled clumsily to his feet then tripped on the ankle chains and fell back inelegantly onto the furs. Charlie sighed, dropped the boltcroppers and swept Bob up into a princess carry. "What the-" The shock of being picked up had nearly broken the dam in Bob's silk-covered crotch. Nearly. He squirmed helplessly in Charlie's big arms. "Faster this way," Charlie said as he turned and lumbered towards the door. A few moments later Princess Bob was deposited on her throne in the bathroom after Charlie kicked the seat down from its usual male- flatmates-only upright position. "I'll leave you to it," Charlie growled as he closed the door considerately, leaving Bob to it. "It" being something he had never done before, of course, at least with this version of Human Female V1.0 plumbing installed in his crotch. The close-linked bracelets didn't help but he managed to get the silks adorning his nether regions out of the way just before Lady Nature took her muchly-delayed course. It didn't make quite as much mess as he expected and toilet paper worked for a male-flatmates-only level of cleanup of what got away from him. He hesitated for a little time with a fresh wad of toilet paper in his hand before wiping his pubic region down to remove the last drips - he knew intellectually this was what women did for hygiene reasons but it seemed somehow both wrong and also something akin to sexual assault - but he did it anyway, trying to ignore the sensations of the paper wiping across body parts he had not had before the change. He stood, dropped the moist tissues into the pan and flushed then rearranged the silk ribbons in a rather futile attempt to maintain at least some kind of body modesty before he shuffled, chains clinking to the door and opened it. Charlie was leaning against the wall outside. "Finished?" Bob nodded. "Good. My turn." He hooked a thumb back towards Bob's room. "Head back, I'll see what I can do about those cuffs and that collar. Looks interesting." Bob had only just managed to hobble back into his room when he heard the toilet flush again. Charlie arrived a few seconds later, wiping his hands on his sweats. He grabbed a chair and positioned it at the table by the window. "Siddown. I'll need light." Bob sat as Charlie raised the blind and then plopped a small toolbox on the table. Just my up-and-down luck thought Bob as Charlie flipped the toolbox lid open and started pulling out trays of small tools. Xanadu changed me into a Gorean slave girl complete with collar and chains and my flatmate happens to be a certified locksmith. "Cuffs first." Bob held out his wrists and Bob scrutinised the keyholes in the steel circlets carefully with a magnifying loupe screwed into his eye socket, twisting Bob's wrists this way and that to catch the light. Bob noticed that Charlie's large paw-like hands seemed even larger than normal as they gripped his too-slim wrists. He knew that Charlie was pretty strong but his current body was even less able to resist Charlie's grip than his real male body had ever been. He was suddenly aware that most women felt like this all the time, probably even Alice who was in good physical shape given her sword practice and general fitness training. She was still several inches shorter than he was, in his regular male form that is and a good thirty pounds lighter and he wasn't noticeably overweight for his height. I wonder where she is right now he thought wistfully. If she could see me now she'd be laughing her head off. "Hmmm." Charlie picked up a probe from a tool tray and carefully inserted it in the keyhole in one bracelet. He twisted and wiggled it for a second and then the bracelet popped open. "You did it!" "Piecea piss." He grabbed Bob's other hand and a few seconds later the other bracelet fell open. Bob rubbed his wrists where the metal circles had abraded the skin slightly. "Ankles." Charlie propped Bob's feet up on another chair and then knelt beside him to work on the ankle cuff locks. A few seconds later they opened like the wrist cuffs. Charlie picked them up and scrutinised them with the loupe. "Neat, but simple." He rubbed a thick thumb over the metal. "Nicely made though. Solid." "Wanna unpack that for me, Charlie?" He knew what he was asking. Charlie's taciturnity disappeared when he got onto talking about the subject of his greatest love in life, locks but Bob needed some kind of distraction from his current state of femininity. "These are fuckin' works of art. Look." Charlie pushed the ends of one bracelet together with a snapping sound, then pulled at each side with fingers and thumbs. The circlet refused to open as he heaved with obvious effort. "No play, no gap in the join, strong as fuck, snap- lock." He rubbed the surface again. "Vulcan knows what they're made of but it's not cheap steel. I can bend something thin as this with my hands, any snap-lock mechanism that small would normally break under the load. No security warding in the locks though, pretty simple to open." He hefted the cuffs. "If you wanna sell them I know some folks who would pay good money for them." "Really?" He was vaguely aware that Charlie supplemented his income occasionally doing work for people in the fetish scene but it wasn't really something he was interested in himself. Money however was definitely something of interest. "Uh, discuss it later maybe." He reached up under his chin. "Can you get this damn collar off too?" "OK. Lemme see it." "Seeing it" finally involved Bob lying across the table, butt up, face down and breasts squished unnervingly into the plastic-topped surface while Charlie worked on the collar lock at the nape of his neck. Bob's newly over-long and shouldn't-be-blonde hair hung over both sides of the table out of the way as Charlie poked and prodded, mumbling to himself. The mumbling went on for longer and longer, then died away completely as he kept working. "Problems?" Bob asked after another minute. The cuffs had practically fallen open after all... "Collar lock's a god-mode pin-bitch asshole monster beast of a cunting fucker mumble mumble" Charlie fell silent again. The fumbling at his neck stopped and he sat back up, perversely relieved his tits were no longer getting squashed flat on the cold tabletop. "Can't you just cut it off then?" Charlie looked at the handful of small probes and other unidentifiable tools held between his fingers. "I could, but..." He put the tools back in the trays, carefully aligning each one in its allotted place. "Coupla things. Assuming it's made of the same supertrick metal as the cuffs, and it feels like it is, I'd haveta use a grinder to get through it, maybe a tungsten-carbide or a diamond blade. Lotsa heat and the chance of it slipping or kicking as it cuts. That happens and it's gonna take a chunk of your skull with it, or chop into your carotid maybe." He stirred the cuffs on the table with one finger. "Besides, it's a work of art, that collar and its lock. You wanna ask Leonardo da Vinci to take a sledgehammer to Michaelangelo's David?" Charlie's metaphors could be florid but only when he was in serious mode. Bob grimaced. "I thought you were some kinda wizard with locks, you always told me nothing could beat you." Charlie looked aggrieved at Bob's words. "I can pick that collar lock but I need something like the pick guns back at the workshop to open it, and this ain't a standard pinlock so I'd need ta modify a gun t'start with." At Bob's blank look Charlie sighed. "A pick gun's a locksmith tool, it works by... ah whatever, it works OK?" He shrugged. "A gun'll work on this lock too unless it really is god-mode inside and there isn't space in there for anything really tricksy that I can think of. If there is --" Bob interrupted. "So?" "If you wanna get dressed and come down to the shop wit' me I can see what I can do 'bout gettin' it off for you." He started putting away his tools. "B'sides that's where my heavy cutting gear is, if'n the gun don't work after all." Getting dressed was another adventure. To get dressed he had to undress, of course. For some twisted reason he did it in front of the big mirror in his room, left there by one of the previous residents of the apartment and not something he had much use for himself until now. The silk ribbons came off easily, maybe a bit too easily for his liking as various parts of the Gor books came to mind, scenes where a slave girl disrobed or was forcibly stripped - stop that - but he soon got down to the essentials which in this case was a fair skin, long blonde hair and the damned collar which, now that it was visible in the mirror stood out a lot more. He had gotten used to its weight around his neck unnervingly quickly, like it had been there forever and was likely to be there for a long time to come. He swallowed - oh, no Adam's apple - as he surveyed the terra incognita he had inadvertently set foot upon. She was smaller than he had realised, five two maybe, well down on his original just-less-than-six foot height, 120 pounds maybe a little more given the weighty hang of her breasts. Charlie was a bear of a guy, sure but picking this body up hadn't taken any real effort on his part. A well-shaped figure, hips and tits and everything in nice proportion. Again the books he assumed his current shape derived from described every slave girl as a peak of perfection pretty much so... anyway. He noted that the carpet matched the curtains, he was a real blonde with, yes, blue eyes. He realised he didn't need his contacts either, her eyesight was pretty much 20/20, another perfection courtesy of the authorial pen he presumed. He was surprised to discover he was wearing gold-coloured earrings, thick heavy loops fixed through piercings in his earlobes. He tried tugging at them but the effort only brought a stinging pain and they stayed firmly in place. He'd never been one who thought highly of punching holes in his epidermis for decorative purposes before so he was unused to such appurtenances. Maybe there was some kind of clip that would allow him to take them off but that could wait. The way he looked right now they wouldn't seem out of place, he supposed. He realised he wanted to spend more personal time with the figure in the mirror but it didn't seem he was going to change back any time soon and Charlie was waiting so he put off exploring terra incognita for the moment. Get dressed now and get undressed again later, he decided. Nothing he had to wear fitted, not surprisingly. Alice had visited the apartment a few times but nothing of hers was around so he ended up looking like some slob's girlfriend who had dressed in his clothes because she thought it was some kind of grungy fashion statement. Watching his breasts flop about under a light and loose heavy metal tee-shirt in the mirror was about the worst of it but that was easily fixed by adding a heavy flannel button-up shirt and tying a knot in the loose fabric in the waist valley-girl style to provide a modicum of support. The fabric collar of the shirt buttoned high over the metal collar to conceal it from curious eyes. He could ignore the rubbing of his overly-large nipples on the fabric of the tee-shirt if he really tried. The jockey briefs he wriggled into were snug enough on the hips but baggy in front, not surprisingly. His regular street-wear jeans and pants were ridiculously way too long for his shorter but shapelier legs and he reluctantly went with khaki cargo shorts that were baggy too but not a trip hazard, with a belt pulled tightly around his narrow waist. The shorts were long enough in the leg to cover the branded area on his left thigh but left the rest of his extremely nice-looking legs bare to the air. Two pairs of sports socks and tight lacing kept his size-9 sneakers from falling off his size-4 or size-5 feet. He'd have to take care going down the stairs that he didn't trip over them, he decided. The ensemble was completed by a couple of rubber bands pulling his hair back in a rough ponytail. "Took you long enough," rumbled Charlie when he eventually met him in the hallway. "Sorree, Charlie," he trilled. "A girl has to look her best, like, if she's going out on the town with her boyfriennnnnd." "Save it and c'mon." Bob thought he saw the back of Charlie's neck turn a bit red, but then it might have been sunburn. Or not. It turned out going down the stairs was indeed problematic but not because of the oversize sneakers on his undersize feet but for the way his breasts bounced as he took each step. Damn things have a mind of their own he grumbled to himself. I need a bra I never thought I'd say I need a bra damn this is getting to me and then they were out the door and he was a girl in public getting looked at by complete strangers and... It wasn't actually that bad, no worse than being pulled along on a leash by Alice through the crowds at Xanadu while wearing falsies and a crotch strap. As far as anyone could tell today he was a real girl, hell even he would had difficulty saying otherwise in the same situation and especially after his self-examination in the mirror earlier and besides the street was almost deserted this early in the day. He got more attention from a small dog than he did from anyone human he encountered. Charlie set off along the sidewalk at his usual distance-eating pace towards his workshop, a small industrial building a couple of blocks from the apartment they both called home. Bob hurried after him, his shorter legs working harder than usual to match Charlie's giant stride. Bob's breasts hadn't found their natural harmonic rhythm as he half-ran which exacerbated the discomfort. I REALLY need a bra. "Hey Charlie, wait up!" Bob almost had to sprint to catch up with Charlie just as he turned into the doorway of a small restaurant. "Food," said Charlie. Bob sighed but followed him into the restaurant, one he had frequented himself as himself quite often. They opened early for the weekday breakfast crowd and the smell of percolating coffee and fried food wafted across his nostrils in a familiar manner as the door closed behind them. Fuelling Charlie was a never-ending task and besides this petite body of his was hungry too. Charlie and Bob slid into their usual booth seats. He looked around as Molly the proprietor, regular waitress and occasional cook came over to them. "Mornin' Charlie," Charlie grunted wordlessly. "The usual then." Bob opened his mouth to order his standard breakfast fry-up and black coffee but Molly raised an eyebrow. "Who's your girlfriend, Charlie?" She smiled at Bob in a way she had never smiled at him before, a woman- to-woman greeting. "Hi sweetie. You with the bear?" "Uh, yes M- ma'am. I'm with the bear." Molly chuckled as Bob reminded himself that he and Molly didn't know each other in this version of reality. She raised an eyebrow but said nothing although he could feel her gaze evaluating his rather slapdash outfit and he had a horrible feeling he knew exactly what she was thinking. Early morning, guy with no-makeup girl dressed in guy clothes like she didn't have anything else to change into after the night before etc. etc. He coloured and then thought his flushed face probably confirmed Molly's suspicions. Looking away embarrassedly made it even worse. Molly was a pro though. "So what will you have sweetie? We've got freshly-squeezed orange juice and some cereal with low-calorie sweetener if you'd like. Yoghurt too, low-fat." He decided quickly that chowing down on his usual thousand morning calories of carbs and grease wasn't going to go over too well given his current situation so he ordered juice and cereal like the nice lady suggested. He decided he was definitely going to have a coffee afterwards though. Black, three sugars and a refill if time allowed. In the end he didn't get any coffee at all. Charlie ploughed his way through the double-portion pile of burnt pig, scrambled eggs and fried potatoes on his plate like he usually did while inhaling a bucket-sized mug of coffee, wiping the greasy residue off the plate with a soft bread roll just as Bob finished eating his surprisingly filling bowl of cereal with a more-than-usual daintiness. Charlie dropped a ten-spot and a five on the table and then he was in motion again, Bob hurrying after him. "Bye sweetie!" Molly called as they disappeared out onto the street again. "Come again!" Bob waved goodbye half-heartedly as the door swung closed. I really hope 'sweetie' doesn't come again he thought to himself but how was he going to change back to his rightful body? Maybe he'd be eating cereal and drinking juice and getting called sweetie by Molly for the forseeable future... Charlie unlocked the steel workshop door with a big complicated-looking key and entered, hitting the lights and cancelling the bleeping alarm before it went off. Bob followed, peering around with some interest. He had been here before a couple of times but not recently. The main work area had spotlessly tidy benches with adjustable lights and rolling toolboxes located neatly under racks of spare parts and other components. Charlie's ratty-looking pickup truck was reverse- parked facing a big roller door to the outside. Charlie pointed at a pedestal seat located near the end bench as he dropped his backpack there. "I need to measure up that collar lock t'mod the gun. Sit over there." It was like being at the dentist, Bob thought as Charlie poked and prodded at the collar lock again, his ponytail trailing over his left shoulder and his shirt collar pulled down. Any attempt to shift or move in the seat brought a warning growl from Charlie. After a few minutes he stopped and scribbled some final numbers on a clipboard, then scratched his head. "Oh." He scratched again, scribbled some more. "Kay. Right, this'll take some time. Toilet's over there, coffee-makings over there. Don't touch anything else." Charlie dug into the toolboxes and started amassing odd-looking bits of metal of all sorts on the bench. Coffee. The percolator was soon bubbling away and he wandered back to watch Charlie who was working on a small lathe making something that apparently required some precision, stopping and taking measurements often. Bob put a big mug of coffee to one side of the lathe for Charlie and helped himself to a smaller cup, strong and black with three sugars. It tasted foul. I want my real body back he moaned to himself as he poured the coffee down the toilet before rinsing his mouth out with some bottled water. He stared again at the foreign face in the sink mirror. How long was he going to have this face, how many mornings would he wake up and see it reflected in mirrors? How long before he could drink a cup of coffee again? Being in a toilet and the smell of coffee suddenly caused his alien plumbing to raise an alert flag again. He sighed, slid his pants and briefs down to ankle level and after lowering the seat to its non- masculine setting he assumed the position on the toilet. It was less exciting than the first time earlier, less messy as he had a vague idea what was going to happen and how to position himself on the suddenly- larger doughnut to prevent collateral spray damage to the surroundings. The wad of tissue paper afterwards was still scratchy in the wrong places though. He washed his hands VERY thoroughly. He came back out to see Charlie waving a gun-like object in his direction. "C'm over here n'siddown." Bob sat on the pedestal chair again. "Move your hair outta the way." Bob pulled his ponytail to one side and bent his head. He felt Charlie swivel the collar around a bit then press something against the lock. There was a buzzing sound, a pause, another buzzing vibrating noise and then praise the Lord a click! and the collar opened and fell down inside his shirt, stopped only by his breasts. Charlie put the gun-thing down on the bench and his big hairy fist was half-way down the front of Bob's tented-out shirt before Bob could get both hands around Charlie's thick wrist to stop him boldly groping where no man had groped before. "I'll get it out if you don't mind," he said dryly as Charlie removed his hand with no trace of embarrassment. "'K." Bob extracted the opened collar from its mountainous resting place before handing it to Charlie. It was heavier than he expected. "Still warm," Charlie muttered before giving it a close examination under a stand-mounted magnifying glass. "Fuckin' ace piece a work, lookit mumble mumble..." Bob rubbed at his suddenly-bare neck, acutely conscious of the missing collar which had been an omnipresent part of his life since he had woken up that morning. His hand bumped an earring which reminded him of their existence. "Charlie? Charlie? CHARLIE!!!" He had to shake the oblivious Hulk to get his attention again. He could almost hear him saying "My Precioussss" as his eyes kept drifting back to the open collar on the bench. "These earrings, can you get them offa me? I can't see if there's a catch or something..." Bob ended up in yet another awkward position, head flat on the bench as Charlie manoeuvered the big magnifying glass to look at one of the earrings. "Can't see nothin' like..." He pulled at the metal loop, rotating it through the hole in Bob's earlobe. "Nope. Weird..." He moved the magnifying glass away and let Bob sit up again. "What's weird?" asked Bob, rubbing his now-tender earlobe. Charlie scratched his head again. "There's no catch or clip, no join I can see. It's like they were cast in place, one piece and that's not somethin' you can actually do, not in human skin." "Well can you just cut them off?" "Well, yeah I suppose if you want." "I want." They were a visible marker of femininity that he could actually get rid of easily unlike his tits and fat lips and such. His super-long hair was a pain in the neck, literally but he could get it cut at a barbers any time. He wanted the earrings gone right now though. Charlie got a pair of heavy sidecutters from a toolrack. "Sit still and don't move or you'll lose an ear. I don't know how tough these..." There was a click. "Huh, soft as anythin'." Bob felt Charlie twisting and pulling at the earring then it was dragged though the hole in his lobe and out. He turned to see Charlie tossing the deformed ring in his hand. "Huh." "Huh what? And the other one please?" "Huh, my guess is they're solid gold goin' by the weight." "What?" Charlie handed the ring to Bob. It was a thick loop, maybe two inches across and heavy for its size and yellow enough to convince him that it was indeed gold although he was no expert. "Turn round." Bob turned and Charlie cut the other ring then twisted it open. As he pulled the might-be gold ring free of Bob's earlobe a strange feeling washed over him. The first sensation was a tightness across his belly and then the belt holding his shorts up snapped. He felt bigger somehow, his feet hurt in the too-tight sneakers and his hair... he put one hand up to feel his usual short-cut brown hair back in place while the front of his briefs bulged familiarly. "I'm back!" His voice was normal again and he didn't need a bra any more. A quick glance revealed the brand mark on his thigh was gone too. Charlie looked astonished, well as astonished as he ever looked. One eyebrow was raised which for him was capital-A astonished. The first thing Bob did, well after he took off his sneakers and socks and massaged his aching feet, was to pour himself another cup of coffee, black with three sugars. It tasted wonderful. The second one did too. "So it looks like removing those earrings did the trick." They looked at the two bent earrings on the bench. Charlie had weighed them on a small scale, nearly two ounces in total. "Soft enough to be pure gold, mebbe, worth..." Charlie tapped on his phone, "'bout two thousand bucks at the goin' rate." Two thousand bucks... "It's weird they didn't disappear when I changed back though. I sorta figured they were magic, the reason I changed in the first place." Charlie pointed at the bench. "Th' collar's still there, and the cuffs too. Those silk things are probably still back in the apartment where you left 'em as well." "The collar and the bracelets, you said you could sell them for me? I don't want to keep them after all." Charlie nodded. "I'd haveta make keys for 'em but that's not a big deal. The cuffs are easy-peasy but the collar'd be more work. I'll haveta set up a jig to read off the detents on the pins --" Bob waved his hand to stop Charlie going off on a technical tangent he'd never be able to follow. "OK, sell them for what you can get. I owe you anyway for getting me free from that bed chain to start with. Fifty-fifty?" Charlie thought for a moment, then nodded. "The earrings..." Bob looked at them lying on the bench. "I wonder, are they really magic? If I put them back in my ears again, would I change back into a girl?" "Wanna give it a shot?" asked Charlie. Bob thought for a second, then nodded. Worst case he could just remove them again. When they tried offering them up to his earlobes though they discovered the holes had healed shut like they had never been pierced, which was probably the literal truth. The girl he had become had pierced ears, not the man as he was now. Charlie looked at the earrings and said, "Here goes nuttin'" before removing a thick silver stud in his own left ear. He fed the cut end of one earring into the open piercing - and nothing happened. Bob let out a breath he had been holding in anticipation of something, whatever happening. "Maybe they need to be a complete circle to work?" Charlie squished the soft metal closed with his fingers. "Nah, see? Besides I cut 'em and you didn't change back until the second one came outa the hole in y'r ear. Then, kazam, you're you again." He removed the gold earring and scratched his stubbly chin. "I got an idea. C'mere and sit down." "What is it?" he said nervously as Charlie picked up the collar. "Mebbe it was just that the earrings were the last bitsa stuff you was wearing when you woke up and you changed back when they were taken off. Try putting this back on." He reached over and put the collar around Bob's neck. He tried to shy away but he underestimated Charlie's long reach. "Hey, that won't fit! My neck's too big for..." There was a click and suddenly the collar was a perfect fit locked securely on the slim neck of a natural blonde girl, five-two and maybe 120 pounds with a scar- brand on her left thigh, long hair and substantial tits. Shit. He shook the long blonde hair out of his eyes. Charlie looked smug. "Guessed right. The cuffs would prolly have the same effect on ya. Maybe even the silk things." "Okay, okay, you were right, now make with that gun thing again, Sherlock." He bent his slim neck forward. There was pressure and a whirring noise, a pause, another whirring noise, another pause - it wasn't working! - another whirring and another and his heart sank and then the everblessed click! and the collar fell open and he changed back again hallelujah! He placed the collar down on the bench very carefully and very thankfully. "The pick gun's kinda finicky to use at the besta times, it takes a bitta practice to get it ta work," Charlie explained. "The mods I made t'fit it to the collar lock pins didn't help." "Yeah, whatever." He checked the time on the wall-clock. "Shit, I gotta get ready to go to work, shop opens at ten." He patted his shorts and found the apartment keys in his hip pocket. "Seeya, and thanks." He headed for the door. "Bob?" He stopped and turned. Charlie pointed at the floor beside the bench seat. "Your sneakers." * * * * * * * * Doctor Farnsworth steepled his fingers and stared at Bob. "So that was the extent of your first transformation, yes?" Bob nodded. "Yeah. I sorta assumed it was over and done with once I had taken off all the stuff I had been wearing when I woke up. As long as I didn't put any of it back on I was going to be OK from then on." He looked down. "I was being stupid, I suppose or maybe wishful thinking." "So what happened?" "It was three, maybe four days later, the weekend I think, I was sleeping again and I had another one of those weird dreams about being back at the Xanadu convention with Alice--" * * * * * * * * He knew as soon as he woke up he was in trouble. The dream (of dancing?) was fading but he knew he had been back at the Xanadu convention with Alice and now he was lying on furs at the bottom of the big platform bed and... yup, female again, yup, collared again, yup, chained again. This time his hands were cuffed, ah "braceleted" behind his back but his ankles were free. He was wearing something around his chest this time, a brassiere-type thing with gold thread and sequins like a belly- dancer's costume and... he squirmed as much as the collar chain allowed to get in a position to study the rest of his changed body, some kind of translucent red silk skirts which completed the outfit. As he moved his feet he heard jingling noises -- they came from several rows of small golden bells tied around his ankles. A red silken veil hung over the lower part of his face. He blew on it but it didn't come off. Ah heck. I thought this was all over and done with... "Charlie?" he shouted. "Charlie, it happened again. Come and get me out of this!" He waited a couple of minutes but nothing. "Charlie? CHARLIE?" Nothing. He listened hard, for a door opening, a creak of heavy footsteps but nothing. "CHARLIE, ARE YOU THERE?" He pulled and jerked at his restraints but they didn't give way. "CHARLIE, ARE YOU THERE? CHARLIEEEE!" Charlie wasn't there. He was on an overnight emergency callout, two hundred bucks for the first hour and a hundred bucks an hour after, securing a store that had been the site of an abortive break-in attempt sometime before dawn. Six hundred bucks richer he came back to the apartment around eight in the morning after parking his pickup back at the workshop and grabbing a bear-sized breakfast at Molly's restaurant while studiously ignoring her repeated inquiries about his "sweetie". A girl was crying. He could hear the sobs as soon as he entered the apartment. He dropped his go-bag and headed to the door of Bob's bedroom at a lumbering run. Bob looked up through tear-blurred eyes as the door banged open, it was Charlie finally! The ammonia-stench of piss filled the room. "WHERE THE FUCK-" The veiled feminine figure dressed in stained red silks lying on the furs at the end of the bed hiccuped and sobbed, tossing her head and sending the veil flying. "WHERE-" Bob screamed. Charlie held up a hand. "I was workin'. I'll get my tools." When Charlie got back a few seconds later Bob was lying on his side on the damp furs, trembling and crying, tears dripping freely down the side of his face. The boltcroppers cut through the collar chain with a ping! and Charlie helped Bob sit up then he got to work on the bracelet locks with a probe. They opened quickly. His arms free, Bob grabbed Charlie around the neck, still sobbing incoherently, his tear-damp veil pressed against Charlie's stubbled cheek. Charlie picked him up and carried him to the bathroom as he had done a few days before, ignoring the feel and smell of the piss-stained silk skirt clinging to Bob's legs. The bells on Bob's anklets jingled merrily as Charlie swung Bob's legs around the corner of the door. "Need to piss?" he asked the female figure cradled in his arms. Bob stopped sobbing and then shook his head. "Not- not any more," he mumbled in a low voice. "Shower. Strip later, wash that outfit down first." He propped Bob up in the shower cubicle and closed the door. When he heard the spray running after a few moments he nodded then headed off again. When Bob had finished his long, long hot shower he opened the cubicle door to find a pile of fresh clothes waiting for him along with thick towels. He left the wet silk skirt and belled anklets and the bra-thing in the shower - getting the bra off had been an interesting technical challenge even with the help of the steam-obscured mirror in the cubicle to locate the catch on the back strap with his straining fingers - and wrapped the towels around him before starting the long laborious effort of drying the tangled overlong mass of hair he now sported. He had made some inroads into the task when he heard the front door open and someone come in. Had Charlie had gone out and left him in the apartment, alone? He felt a sudden frisson of fear, a strange feeling since he had been alone in the apartment before but now he was female and naked and was it really Charlie coming back or an intruder or -- "It's me," came Charlie's voice from outside the bathroom door. "You settled down?" "Yeah, some." Apart from the spike of terror just now... "You decent?" "Uh, yeah--," he looked down at the curves of his towel-wrapped body, "ah actually that's a no. Ummm, I'm still working on my hair. It's a wet mess." "Get dressed and come out. Dry it later." Bob dressed in the clean sweats and briefs laid out for him. They didn't fit his new smaller figure just like last time but they were better than nothing. He twisted his long damp hair up out of the way and inexpertly wrapped a fresh towel around it, like he had seen girls do in movies and teevee shows plenty of times. It fell off. He sighed and went out anyway. Charlie had that gun-thing he had used on Bob's collar the first time. "Went down to th' shop t'get it," he explained. He sat down and leaned forward, pulling his damp ropes of hair out of the way. Whirr whirr, the gun made short work of the collar currently locked around his throat and it fell open. Bob rubbed his neck thankfully then realising he was still female he touched his earlobes. Yup, earrings again but they felt different somehow. "The earrings, you got your cutters with you?" Once the earrings were off he'd change back. Wouldn't he? It had worked before but maybe this time... "Yabbut - " Charlie peered at the earrings. "Yah. Hold on." He fiddled with Bob's earlobe then he felt the earring slip free. "These ones are different, they got a catch. Don' need to cut 'em off. See?" The earring was bigger than the last one, a thick wide golden hoop with small bells of some sort attached. There was a tiny tinkling sound when Charlie shook it. Bob reached up to the other earring and fumbled with it, feeling for the catch. It popped free and he slipped it out of his pierced earlobe - and the change back to normal washed over him again, his sweats filling out in all the proper places. "Shit, that feels good." He rubbed his head, noticing his short hair was still wet but nothing a couple of minutes with a towel wouldn't fix compared to drying the hair monster he had woken up with that morning. "We need to talk," said Charlie, avoiding eye contact. Bob sat back. Yeah, we do. "It happened again you mean, it wasn't a one-off." Bob touched the collar, bracelets and earrings on the table. "That means it will probably happen again, right?" Charlie nodded. "I can't guarantee to be around alla time for you if'n it does, like this mornin's callout. I gotta living to earn." "It only happens when I'm asleep, and not every time. There's the dreams--" "Dreams?" Charlie raised an eyebrow. "What dreams?" Bob explained about the dreams he had before he woke up in his changed situation, of being back at Xanadu with Alice and then the dreams of dancing the second time. "So if'n you don't dream 'bout Alice 'n you at the convention then you won't change?" Charlie didn't look convinced and Bob had to agree. Just trying to not dream about it was likely to make it happen, like trying not to think of something would bring it to mind. They chewed over what they could do - Bob was VERY reluctant to let anyone else know about his changes given the helpless situations he had ended up in but they decided they really needed a backup to Charlie - "What d'you do if'n I get hit by a truck? Or end up in hospital with food poisoning from Molly's cookin'?" but they couldn't come up immediately with anyone he felt he could trust with his secret. Heck, even having Charlie knowing what was happening to him felt kinda skeezy. He decided he would try staying awake at night, see if that would help but that was grasping at straws. He couldn't go without sleeping at all but maybe sleeping during the day would block the changes somehow. Maybe. Were there drugs that might stop him dreaming? Would they help? How would he get hold of them? He'd have to find out... "There's some things I can do first off though," Charlie said as he stood up and collected his assorted tools along with the new items on the table. "I can make some keys for you, leave them where you c'n get at them when, uh if'n you do change again. Some kind of phone alarm too, a button you can press mebbe wit' your nose or..." he was moving towards the door as he mumbled, deep in thought. "Uh, Charlie?" The big figure stopped and turned. "Thanks." Charlie waved his hand and left. Bob spent the rest of the morning experimenting. Sure enough, the halter-bra caused the change if he wrapped it around his too-big chest, the still-damp silk skirt and even the veil and the ankle bells and the silk ribbons had the same effect, but they had to be in the right place - tying the skirt around his neck didn't trigger the change, only when he wore it around his waist. He didn't need to be naked for the change to take effect, although he was already missing a couple of sets of sweatshirt tops and pants he normally wore at night as pyjamas, they had disappeared when he changed in his sleep and they showed no signs of reappearing. The change occurred even if he tried to put the alien items on over his regular clothing although they didn't go away when he was awake, and he didn't end up chained on the furs like he did when he dream-changed. The change seemed instantaneous - he propped up his phone on the table and recorded the changes back and forth and near as he could make out it just happened, there wasn't any kind of flashy special effect or extended transformation scene like in a movie, he was a guy, blink he was a girl, blink he was a guy again. Changing multiple times in a hurry gave him a headache. Charlie came back to the apartment later that day, honking the horn on his pickup truck out in the street. Bob went down to help him bring boxes of heavy gear up the stairs before he drove off again to park up back at the workshop. Bob couldn't help himself and investigated the boxes which contained video cameras with big lenses and odd-looking lights and other weird-shit electronics stuff he didn't recognise. Charlie explained as he unpacked the gear in Bob's bedroom, obviously enjoying himself with the toys he had brought to play with. "The cameras, they're low-light for seeing in the dark. There's infra- red lights too. I wanna recording of what happens if, you know, anyways it ties into the alarm system I'm puttin' together for ya." He unrolled a thin rubbery mat. "This is a pressure pad, we'll put it under the furs at the bottom of your bed, wire it to an alarm system. If you end up there again the alarm'll go off and I'll be alerted by phone if I'm out at work." He handed Bob a small keyring. "The big drum-shaped key opens both the collars you've, ah, acquired so I guess if you end up collared again this key should open the next one too." He demonstrated on one of the two collars. Click. "See? Now push the key into the lock and twist anticlockwise and it opens easy." Click. "See?" Bob tried it a few times until he was confident the key actually worked as advertised before he drew a breath, lifted a collar into place around his neck and pushed the ends together. The change occurred again, not quite as amazing as it had been given the number of back- and-forths he had experienced that day. He fumbled under his chin for the lock, dropped the keyring, picked it back up again and finally got the collar key into position. He twisted it, noticing it took more effort than when he was male, and glory be! The lock opened just like it should and he changed back again as the collar fell away from his neck. "I got spare keys an' I know how to make more if'n we need them. If we're gonna sell the collars I gotta give the buyers some keys anyway." He fingered through the other keys on the ring. "The small ones here open the cuffs." He demonstrated on one pair of the slave bracelets. They snapped closed with a push but opened again when the key in the lock was given a simple twist. "Try 'em yourself." Bob fitted one bracelet around his thick hairy masculine wrist and closed it around his slim hairless feminine wrist. Click. Tugging experimentally on the short chain between it a