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Piece Parts By Dawna Tompson April 2018 Bobby is a wimp who lives a dull, mundane life. His only relief comes from his very private sexual fantasies. Lately, he's become quite successful at creating fantasies that seem incredibly real and lifelike. A small mistake forces Bobby to confront just how genuine they really are. Rating R, Adult Content [email protected] - - Bobby Mathews is a wimp. To be sure, he might not describe himself quite that way. He might use different, less pejorative terms. Perhaps he'd describe himself as a dreamer, an introvert, a private man, or if brutally honest, a socially challenged misfit. Bobby stood before the large office building where he worked as an administrative clerk in one of the city's major law offices. He'd been lucky to find this joB. Since leaving college a few years ago he'd been mostly flipping burgers. He glanced up at the building and tried to see if he could make out the twelfth floor where he worked. He lost count at the ninth floor and then tried to start counting again. "Hey! Move out of the way you nitwit! What are you trying to do?" a rude voice from behind shouted. Bobbie stepped aside to let a tall well- dressed man in a crisp charcoal suit push a leather briefcase through the revolving doors. Bobby worked his way slowly into the skyscraper's huge granite-walled lobby. Inside, his eyes quickly found what he was looking for. "Good," he thought, "she's on duty today." He glanced at the buxom female security guard examining badges near the entrance to the elevators. She made eye contact with Bobby and pointed a long manicured finger at him and curled it into a "come here" motion. "You! Over here," she barked. "I need to inspect your bag. Place it here and open it up." Bobby readily complied. He had secretly hoped she would select him so he could have a little more time to memorize the outlines of her shapely breasts. He wondered what kind of bra she had on below her blue uniform. Was she the pink lace type? Maybe faux leopard skin? Bobby doubted it. "Probably plain white," he surmised. Still, it separated and lifted her large supple breasts. Whatever kind of bra it was it must have been made of something thin. He could make out the outlines of her wide nipples pressing through the blue cotton tunic. Bobby closed his eyes momentarily while trying to imagine her without a bra at all and her uniform buttons suddenly undone. When he opened his eyes he found a scowling face looking back. "What's this?" She was waving a Victoria's Secret catalogue she had pulled from the bag. Bobby shrugged. "Okay, you're clear. And make sure your badge in in view at all times." She jerked her head to one side to indicate that he should move along. Bobby sauntered toward the elevator. He was soon walking down the hall toward his small cubicle. As far as he could tell he had the smallest cubicle on the floor. It came with a desktop computer, a few pencils, a couple of HR manuals, a wastebasket, a phone and a chair. This was his corporate home: small, barren, and emotionless. He reflected for a moment on how this cubicle so completely encapsulated his own waking life. He sat down to log on his computer but was interrupted by the phone before he could finish typing his password. He recognized the number as Veronica Hurley, one of the top lawyers at the firm. He was delighted to have to go to her office to retrieve some papers. She always dressed professionally and, in Bobby's mind, Veronica had the most beautiful hair of any woman he had ever met. He welcomed the chance to see her. Her door was open so he quietly stepped inside. Veronica was busy tapping on her keyboard and didn't notice him at first. Bobby took the opportunity to examine her long, full, chestnut hair. "She must spend hours washing, treating, curling, and brushing it each day," Bobby thought to himself. Her wavy hair was parted on the right, piled up across the crown of her head, fell around her face, and then cascaded down the rich red fabric along the back of her tailored business suit. He wished he could reach out and touch it. ?What are you looking at? Don't you ever knock?? Veronica snapped harshly. ?Wipe that drool from your face, you moron.? Bobby unconsciously swept his hand across his face. ?I meant it figuratively.? She rolled her eyes. ?Can you just take these briefs over to Marilyn in contracts, and stop by Shirley at the front desk and give her these time sheets. Now go!? She waved her delicate hands at him in a ?shushing? motion. ?Yes, Ms. Hurley.? Bobby swept up the papers and paused for a second to take in the surge of thick brown hair that tossed about as Veronica twisted back to her computer. Bobby stopped at Shirley's desk. He liked the way she did her makeup and especially how she applied her long false eyelashes. Shirley was busy texting on her phone so he could take in her arched eyebrows, long lashes, and blended brown eye shadow without her noticing. Her red full lips were pursed into a button shape as she tapped on the phone. ?Here are Ms. Hurley's time sheets.? Bobby pulled out a sheaf of papers. Shirley held out her hand without looking up. ?Ok.? Bobby was oblivious to the scowl Shirley directed toward him as he turned to walk down the hall. He was too far away to hear her mutter ?Creep!? under her breath. Bobby glided over to Marilyn's office. Of all the people in the firm Bobby liked her best. She was unfailingly polite to Bobby. And of course he didn't mind that she had the best waist and hips of any woman in the office. He judged her waist-to-hip ratio as a near perfect 0.7. When he arrived, Marilyn was bent over with her back toward him looking through the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet. Bobby took in her round hips and the tight slacks that traced over her full curvy butt. He searched for telltale panty lines but could find none. He wondered if she was wearing a thong. He cleared his throat, ?Ah, Ms. Levy... , Ms. Hurly sent these over for you.? Bobby tried to sound professional. ?Good morning Bobby. It's so good to see you. Isn't it a beautiful day?? Bobby just nodded shyly as he handed the papers to her. ?Here, let me fix your collar, it's turned up again.? Marilyn walked over and smoothed out his collar. ?There, that's better.? Bobby inhaled deeply to be certain he caught the full fragrance of her rich perfume. She smelled wonderful. ?Bobby, look at me. I have something important to tell you. It's not polite to stare at people like you sometimes do, it makes us girls uncomfortable at times. You don't want to make people uncomfortable do you?? ?I'm sorry Ms. Levy.? Bobby stared at the floor. He'd thought that she hadn't noticed him eyeing her backside. He made a mental note to try to be more discrete. ?And Bobby, you have a good job now, you should be able to afford to get your glasses fixed.? Bobby fingered the safety pin he'd used to fasten the earpiece to his eyeglass frame. ?There is an optical shop downstairs in the lobby.? ?Yes, ma'm,? Bobby, still looking at the floor, muttered. ?And it's okay to call me Marilyn.? Bobby looked up, ?I'll be more careful, Ms... I mean Marilyn. Thank you.? And so it went throughout Bobby's day. Each time he came across a beautiful woman or sexy image he'd try to memorize everything about the encounter. There was more to this than simple social awkwardness. Bobby was methodically logging each image in his mind. He intended to use each of them to fuel his sexual fantasies. Bobby had long ago learned that the best moments in his life occurred during his extended sexual fantasies. And, despite a lot of variation, he really had only one fantasy. He always imagined what it would be like for him to become an attractive, young, sexually desirable woman. That is what made life worth living for Bobby. ? At lunch Bobby sat alone at a rather large table in the firm's lunchroom. He absentmindedly bit into the hoagie he'd picked up from the deli downstairs. He thought about the girl who had taken his order. He found her long neck and clear complexion exciting and he added her to today's growing list. He recalled the large poster for a jeweler mounted on the wall outside the deli. He made a mental note to include the expensive diamond necklace and matching earrings too. Bobby dug out the Victoria's Secret catalogue he had stuffed in his bag and surreptitiously flipped through it as he munched on chips spread on crinkled sandwich paper. His attention was drawn to the low-cut pink satin nightdress on page 17. He mentally added it to the list as he casually brushed aside a scrap of tomato that had accidentally dropped on the page. Suddenly, he became aware of people walking down the hall. He scooped up the catalogue and quickly stuffed it back into his bag. Mr. Bearstein, the senior partner who had hired Bobby, came into the lunchroom with a group of other men. Bobby stared into his near finished sandwich and paid no attention to the group. Bearstein cleared his throat. ?Ahem...? He looked at Bobby and nodded toward a smaller table in the corner. Bobby didn't pick up on the hint. He took a more direct approach, ?Bobby, we are taking a working lunch and the main conference room is busy, so we are meeting here, can you slide over to the smaller table in the corner to make room for us?? Bobby looked up and nodded. ?Sure Mr. B.? He gathered up his sandwich and drink and moved to the corner table. Bearstein took out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and carefully wiped the area where Bobby had been eating. Once satisfied, he folded the white linen cloth carefully and placed it back into his pocket. He and the others soon littered the large table with documents, laptops, sandwiches and drinks. Bobby glanced over at their cluttered table and recognized the young man sitting at the end chair. He was the man in the charcoal suit who had called him a nitwit early this morning. Bobby took note of his well proportioned frame, the crisp suit and the tailored shirt and tie. He had a full head of brown hair and a strong square chin. He also watched how the man used his hands as he talked and how he tilted his head as he took in what Mr. B and the others were saying. This was a necessary but not particularly enjoyable part of Bobby's preparations. In waking life he had no attraction at all to men and he found the idea of having any sort of physical contact with a man, sexual or otherwise, mildly disgusting. Still, he knew his sexual fantasies would be incomplete without a properly formed man to satisfy his fantasy female forms. He needed a storehouse of manly images to draw on when needed. Reluctantly, he sized up this handsome man as potential fantasy figure. As striking as the man was, Bobby decided to ignore his face. He'd replace it later with another male image, someone less likely to intrude into his waking life. But he memorized the rest of him. As Bobby stared, the man leaned over and whispered something to Mr. B. He replied with a small shrug and then turned to Bobby. ?Bobby, are you almost done with your sandwich? We need some privacy here.? Bobby nodded and collected up his trash. ?Yes, Mr. B, I need to get back to work anyway.? The man in the charcoal suit scowled at Bobby as he walked out of the lunchroom. Bobby retired to his cubicle. By late afternoon he'd completed all of his assigned tasks. He was no more than a glorified data entry clerk so it was easy for him finish his work quickly and create some extra time at the end of each day. Bobby placed earbuds in his ears, plugged them into his phone, and arranged his keyboard and screen to make it look like he was busy. He then then set about storing the day's images. He did his work methodically. First, he started his hypnotic podcast. Very soon, he was in a deep trance. When he felt sufficiently relaxed he opened his astral eyes. In front of him was a large circular stained glass window. He stepped forward, pushed open the window, and stepped through to the other side. He found himself in the choir loft of a great granite cathedral. Bobby was using a technique long perfected by ancient storytellers. Preliterate cultures with no written language had developed a method to recall virtually any memory in exquisite detail. Each item to be remembered was carefully placed at a specific location. When something needed to be recalled one could simply walk over to the location where it was stored and fetch the memory. Bobby found the technique a perfect way to retain all of his images. Bobby used the pews of his great cathedral to organize his images. As he worked his way down the staircase from the choir loft Bobby brought to mind Veronica's long brown hair. After recalling it in detail he took the image to her location. He had a full pew set aside just for her: A26. Next in line was the security guard's supple breasts, row D13 Seat 3. Marilyn's sexy curves were placed in her usual row, B2. And so on through each of the day's images. Bobby was interrupted by Mr. B. ?Bobby, are you awake?? He tried to make it sound like a joke but there seemed to be a hint of a scold in his voice. Bobby abruptly opened his eyes. ?Oh yes Mr. B, I was just trying to think of a synonym for the word create.? ?Hmm. Try, fabricate, or devise, build, develop, or maybe forge.? Bobby was amazed at the man's vocabulary. He was an human thesaurus. ?Listen Bobby, the team is going to have to stay late tonight to work on the Bleven case...? Bobby quickly responded, ?Oh sure, I can stay, no problem.? ?No, that won't be necessary.? Mr B. was gentle now. ?I was wondering if you could take my car over to Gino's on Vine street, you can park in the take-out lane they have out front, then see if you can pick up a few pizza's for the team. After that you can head home.? With that he tossed Bobby the keys to his Mercedes. ?Sure Mr. B.? Bobby caught the keys in mid-air and then pocketed the corporate credit card Mr. B. offered. He took off toward the elevator and pressed the ?P? button to take him to the parking garage below the lobby. It felt good that Mr. B. trusted him with his car. He had a sleek black Mercedes AMG GT roadster that was probably worth more than three full years of Bobby's salary. Bobby jumped in and felt the soft leather seat enfold him in a cocoon of luxury. He started the car and revved the engine a bit. It purred with understated power. He raced out of the garage and onto the crowded late- afternoon city streets. He wondered if he would ever own such a car. It would never be possible in his current life, but certainly he could have one in his fantasy life. ?Or maybe...? Bobby began outlining the thread of a new fantasy. ?Maybe a date could pick me up in this car. He would be fabulously rich and handsome and crazy in love with me. I would dress... let's see... in that low-cut soft black cocktail dress I have at C54, Seat 3. Yes, and I'd wear those high heels, B22, Seat 5, no, probably the ones at 6 would be better. I'd do my hair with the D44 bun. No, I might as well use today's image of Veronica. Let's see... He'd pick me up in this car and then take me to an art show, and then maybe we'd take a late dinner at the exclusive Pilazzio....? Bobby returned with a stack of pizzas and a carton of soft drinks and headed for the conference room. It was crowded with the firms's lawyers and other's he didn't recognize. Veronica sat near the window next to the charcoal suit guy. He was engaged in deep conversation with her. She seemed positively smitten. She fingered her hair and flipped it in a primordial grooming gesture. He returned a smile and she giggled in response. Bobby didn't suppose they were talking shop. Neither of them took note of Bobby as he opened the pizza boxes. So he took the opportunity to again study the man. He reminded him of the football players who had made his life so miserable in high school. There was nothing he could do about that now. But an interesting thought crossed his mind. ?I might be able to restore a small measure of karmic balance to the universe if I coaxed someone like charcoal man to fall madly in love with one of my fantasy figures.? ? After work Bobby headed through the main lobby, spun through the revolving doors, and turned onto the busy sidewalk along Market street. He walked south toward the subway entrance at the corner of Oak, a couple of blocks away. At the entrance, he merged into the rush-hour crowd descending the stairs to the subway platform. At a mid-point platform connecting two stair segments, Bobby's eye caught an ad plastered to the wall. It was an ad for a woman's fragrance he'd never heard of before. The poster depicted a handsome man standing behind an elegantly dressed woman. The man stood close with his face turned toward her outstretched neck. Bobby started to log the woman's elegant earrings but something in the back of his mind caused him to focus his attention on the man. He still needed a face to go with the charcoal suit man. Bobby noted the male model's face. He had a handsome profile, a strong jaw, a full head of wavy hair, and a manly five-o-clock shadow. Bobby decided that the likelihood of ever meeting this man in waking life was vanishingly remote. ?Perfect.? He thought to himself. ?I'll never have to risk coming face-to-face with this guy in the daytime after having made love to him the night before.? Bobby began logging the man's face, oblivious to the stream of people squeezing past him on their way to the subway. A minute later a large black man wearing the gray uniform of the subway police stepped forward. ?Ok sonny, move along. No loitering!? Bobby turned and descended the stairs toward the subway platform. As the train entered his station Bobby searched for the light pole where he had chained his bike. ?Good, it's still there.? But as he approached the bike he saw it had two flat tires. ?Those damn urchins did it again,? he swore. Two ten year-olds from his neighborhood had been torturing him for a week now. Bobby walked his bike the six blocks to his walk-up apartment. He checked the mailbox in the hallway, collecting some junk mail and a couple of upscale women's apparel catalogues. As he turned, he ran right into Mrs. Makowitz, the apartment super. Mrs. Makowitz was an imposing woman. Bobby mused, ?About thirty years, 60 pounds, and a thousand packs of cigarettes ago she may have been attractive.? Bobby painfully recalled that a few months ago, in a moment of weakness, he had logged her image into the cathedral. ?Ewww,? he cringed. The image had been so upsetting that a week later he had to move her to a crypt deep in the catacombs that zigzagged below the cathedral's floor. ?Bobby, your rent is due tomorrow. I don't have to remind you that you still owe $900 from last month do I? You WILL hand me $1800 tomorrow. Don't make me call the sheriff on you.? ?Yes, Mrs. Makowitz, I'll have it for you, no problem.? Bobby pictured himself eating Ramen noodles and hamburger helper until his next payday. Bobby entered his sparse apartment. Aside from a few sticks of furniture it was nearly barren. He warmed up a can of soup on the half-size stove in a kitchen so small that he could barely turn around in it. He flipped though the newly arrived catalogues as he ate. It was barely dark as he finished washing the last of the few of dishes he'd used, but he decided to turn in. He had a lot of work to do yet tonight. Bobby stripped to his shorts and climbed into bed. He put on his earbuds and selected his nighttime hypnosis podcast. ?Ah, this is what life is all about. This is where I stop being Bobby the loser I get to be someone in whose skin I can feel entirely comfortable. Hmmm. Let's see, how should tonight's fantasy unravel?? Before starting the podcast Bobby reflected on how he had come to this place in his life. It wasn't that he thought of himself as a woman. He wasn't queer and he didn't think he was transgendered either. No, he knew he was a man. Maybe not a testosterone fueled alpha man like his tormentors, but a man nonetheless. He just happened to be a man obsessed with the idea of becoming an elegant and beautiful woman. Bobby really didn't know where this idea had arisen. He just knew that his most pleasurable moments were experienced when he imagined himself as a lovely woman. And he intended to infuse his fantasies with as much life energy as possible. His fantasies had started as a simple masturbatory aid soon after he'd reached puberty. His excitement grew when he imagined rubbing himself against soft woman's panties or when he visualized pulling a frilly girl's nightgown over his head. For a long time he simply fantasized being dressed in women's clothes. Soon he saw himself as a boy passing as a woman. Eventually his fantasies included feminine body parts that required a man to excite. He started to supply faceless men to provide an erect organ at first. But gradually he found he needed real heterosexual men to fulfill his feminine sexual desires. Sometimes when his date took him dancing he would imagine muscular arms wrapped around him as he pulled him close. Bobby would close his arms around the back of a manly neck, bend his own head back, and lift his lips to his imagined lover. Standing on his high heels Bobby was just tall enough to reach his face and pull it close. He'd then part his full red lips and let a warm probing tongue slip into his mouth. Such images sent shivers throughout his feminine body and lit fires inside that could only be satisfied one way. He always ended the night in an elegant bedroom suite embraced his lover. Bobby would roll over, spread his legs, and let his lover climb onto his moist mound. They'd make love until they both climaxed. For Bobby, it was the most satisfying, truthfully the only, sexual outlet in his life. Bobby worked hard to create his multidimensional visual movies and make them as real as possible. It was a struggle at first. But some years ago, while he was still in high school, Bobby stumbled across ?Total Feminine Reality,? a cross-gendered self-hypnosis video on YouTube. He immediately recognized that this was a path for fulfilling his fantasies. Here was a way to make things real in his mind. He'd been using self-hypnosis videos or podcasts nearly everyday since. And they worked. He now could easily slide into a trance and then access an entire mental world of his creation. Once there, he could create any feminine creature and then inhabit her body and use it as he wished. He'd recently discovered a new feature that showed promise for expanding his pleasure. Instead of imagining just a woman's physical sensations, he tried to understand her emotions as well. His efforts so far had been feeble, yet the results suggested it was an avenue worth pursuing. The truth was that Bobby didn't have a lot to draw on when it came to imagining emotions. ?Oh, I understand happiness well enough,? Bobby thought, it's something like the few minutes of pain free existence I experience after I jerk off.? And tenderness, ?that must be something like the comfort I got from Tata, my security blanket, on that day when those people came to take me away.? The thought triggered a memory from a few years later, when he was in elementary school. He remembered sitting in a cluttered office while a man, probably the school counselor, spoke to his foster mom. ?Bobby is well above average in intelligence, one of the highest I've seen, but he doesn't interact with the other children at all. He seems to live in his own world. Perhaps his situation... the stress... It may have stunted his emotional growth.? ? Bobby pressed the play button and closed his eyes. Soon his physical body was completely paralyzed and he fell into a deep trance. Bobby opened his astral eyes. He saw his normal waking self in bed, his room unchanged. But on the bare wall in front of his bed he saw instead a rose colored stained glass window six feet in diameter. The window was hinged on one side, like a hatch on a submarine. Bobby stepped forward, opened it and stepped inside. He found himself in the choir loft of his cathedral. He worked his way down the winding staircase to the floor of the nave. In the apse, on the far side of the communion rail where one would expect an altar, there was instead a round layered stone pedestal. It was arranged so that the lower layers had the largest diameter, maybe twelve feet across on the bottom, and each successive layer had a smaller diameter. This formed a natural staircase around the pedestal. At the top a stood faceless female mannequin. Bobby walked along the pews selecting images and each selection immediately appeared on the mannequin. Veronica's hair, Shirley eyes and makeup, the deli girl's skin and complexion, the security guard's breasts, Marilyn's hips. Each in turn appeared on the female form until Bobby had created a full and complete physical woman. He looked up to the pedestal to examine his work. He slowly walked around it, occasionally adjusting a small detail here and there. Once satisfied, Bobby stepped up to the top layer and stood behind his female form. He raised his frequency until his body was just a wisp of vapor and then effortlessly slid inside her body. He lowered the frequency just a notch to lock himself in place, and then opened the eyes of his feminine vessel. Bobby no longer imagined himself a woman. He no longer needed to wish he had a female form. He was a woman! He experienced her full and complete from within the confines of her body, just as if it was his own. For indeed it was. His consciousness appeared to emanate, just as in waking life, from between and just slightly above his eyes. It provided a platform for an experience that seemed as real and physically complete as Bobby's own daytime man-form. ?Oh how wonderful!? Bobby felt ecstatic. He had to bend his neck down to see his large and stiff nipples, just as he had imaged the security guard had. He twisted around feeling the way Marilyn's hips moved. He stroked his soft skin. He bent over to examine his near hairless crotch. He parted his moist lips and viewed a pink vulva. He stood up and then ran his fingers through his long brown hair. He lifted his leg up and held it with his arm, like a practiced dancer, marveling at how flexible, supple, and graceful this body was. This was what he had spent so many hours working so hard for. Bobby stepped off the pedestal and began strolling around the pews looking for the proper clothes for this beautiful body. He found the bra, thong, slip, the lovely black cocktail dress, and the black shoes with the patent leather bow showing his manicured toes just as he had planned. Once dressed, Bobby walked over to the side transept. This is where he stored his man images. He found the charcoal man's form and placed the perfume ad man's face onto it. He named him Brad. ?Tonight, I think I'll have Brad fall in love with me. We'll make love, not sex, as two people who care deeply for one another,? thought Bobby. ?Maybe that will really enhance the experience.? Bobby linked arms with Brad as he escorted him across the vestibule and out the immense carved wooden church doors to the street curB. He then held open the door to the Mercedes Roadster to let Bobby in. Bobby turned and dipped gracefully onto the soft plush leather seat. He nimbly lifted his long smooth legs inside, pulled his ankles close together, twisted slightly in the seat, and gently folded the soft fabric of his dress so that it cleared the door. ? Bobby awoke the next morning in his usual manner. He rarely got up immediately. He preferred to simply let his waking conscious come into focus while leaving his eyes shut. As he came into full awareness he began to replay the events of the night. He ran through each part of his delightful date and then savored the last moments, just before he woke, as he sat in the Mercedes with his arms around Brad, stealing one last kiss before he dropped him at the entrance to his apartment. ?Oh, what a wonderful night.? Bobby sensed that someone was next to him in bed. He quickly opened his eyes. ?Hello beautiful. Time to rise and shine.? Bobby opened his eyes and found a man's brown eyes staring back! He involuntarily leapt backward and promptly fell out of bed and onto the floor. ?What's the matter darling? Did I do something startle you?? ?What the...? Where the hell did you come from?? Bobby demanded. ?How did you get here? Who are you? Bobby struggled with a tangle of sheets to try to pull himself off the floor. ?Come on sweetie. You know who I am.? ?How....How... How did you get here?? Bobby had enough experience with fantasies to know that this was no dream. At least not an ordinary lucid dream. He looked himself over. All was just as it had been when he went to bed last night. Everything felt perfectly normal. Everything seemed perfectly real, including the naked man laying in his bed! ?Give me a kiss.? ?Are you out of your mind?? demanded Bobby. ?No, I'm out of yours,? he replied. ?How did you get here?? Bobby demanded, as he strode toward the bedroom door. From there he could look across the living room to the front entrance and confirm that the door was still deadlocked. There was no way a stranger could have come in his apartment during the night. ?I came through the portal.? The man nodded toward the wall. ?You left it open last night.? Bobby turned around. He hadn't noticed this one difference in the appearance of his sterile bedroom. A large glowing stained glass window appeared on what should have been a blank wall. The window seemed to be opened a crack into what Bobby knew was a solid brick wall. ?This must to be a bizarre lucid dream,? Bobby declared. ?But it seems so real.? ?Oh, I assure you this is no dream, and everything here is very real,? replied the man. Bobby turned around. He knew this man. He should have recognized him right away. This was Brad, his lover from last night. He had the body of the charcoal man and his face was the man Bobby had appropriated from the perfume ad. ?That's impossible,? Bobby fired back, thinking to himself how ridiculous it was to argue with a dream character. ?This is some sort of bizarre dream.? ?You think so?? Brad arched an eyebrow. Brad had rolled over, exposing his naked body and erect organ. Bobby cringed. Last night he had eagerly stroked and played with it. And it all seemed so exciting. Now, standing here in his bedroom as his normal waking self, in the bright light of day, he found it deeply disturbing. ?This is what happens when you use Medieval alchemy without fully appreciating how it works.? Brad's tone seemed slightly dismissive. ?Oh well,? he brightened, ?We are together and that's all that matters now.? ?I have no idea what you are talking about,? Bobby responded. ?Everything in your waking life started out as a thought form over there,? Brad waved toward the open window, ?on the astral plane. Usually, it takes time and a lot of conscious effort to make anything from there materialize here, in this plane.? Brad swept his arm around the room. ?You short circuited it all last night by leaving the window open. Now, any of your thought forms can directly and immediately materialize, in their full three-dimensional physical form, right here. But I'm glad you did it, it means we can be together!? ?Together? That's crazy talk,? Bobby argued. ?I don't know anything about windows and astral planes. I ended my fantasy last night and came back just as I always do. I just... I didn't try to... I didn't do anything different,? Bobby pleaded. ?Here sweetie, let me show you.? Brad got out of bed and walked over to the window. He reached inside and pulled out a woman's handbag. Bobby recognized it as a Michael Kors he had placed somewhere in row B9 a week or so ago. Bobby hesitantly took the bag. ?Look inside.? Bobby pulled out a thick envelope. Inside Bobby found eighteen crisp one- hundred dollar bills. ?Now go downstairs and pay Mrs. Makowitz. Maybe that will convince you.? Bobby needed to clear his head. Besides, the bills looked so real. ?Let me see if it's all true.? Bobby pulled on some gym shorts and a T-shirt and sprinted down the stairs. Mrs. Makowitz eagerly grabbed the bills Bobby offered. ?I wasn't sure you'd be good for this Bobby,? she rasped in her hoarse voice. ?Do you want to come inside? I can make some coffee.? She flashed her few remaining cigarette-stained teeth in Bobby's direction. ?No, thanks, I have to go,? Bobbed responded, oblivious to an offer that might have included more than a than a cup of coffee. He headed for the stairs. ?Enough,? Bobby thought, ?this is nuts. Whatever this is, real or imagined, I must stop right now before it gets out of hand.? Bobby opened the door to his apartment. He involuntarily stepped back. Things had already gotten out of hand. His apartment had been completely transformed. Bobby checked the door. ?Yes, 206B , this is my apartment.? It looked as if an interior designer had been turned loose with an unlimited budget. The walls were painted dark teal. A crafted white wooden bookcase was set below the window. It was arranged with a mixture of classic leather-bound books and expensive sculptures. A copper reading lamp sat in corner next to a luxurious stuffed chair. A leather hassock stood at its base. Several potted plants were set tastefully around the checkered white and black throw rug. Bobby stepped over the rug and strode into the bedroom. He barely recognized it. The walls were painted a soft pastel blue. An intricate white wooden corner mold traced around the room at the point where the walls met the ceiling. He noted a smooth white satin cornice mounted over the top sill of the window behind the bed. Long lace curtains, pulled back and tied with rose colored ribbons, elegantly framed the window. The white leather upholstered headboard was embossed with shiny rose stones at each pleat. White nightstands, each with delicately curved wooden legs and two small drawers, stood on either side of the bed. One had a jewel box and a vase of fresh cut flowers. The other had a white stuffed teddy bear with a rose colored ribbon tied around its neck. Large satin pillows were place on top of the white pleated quilt. The ruffles from the matching rose skirt embraced the entire lower contour of the bed, its lace trim just touching the fluffy white throw rug on the floor. It was the most stylish and feminine room Bobby had ever set foot in! Bobby turned to his right where the sliding closet door was open. He could see the closet was filled with his most elegant formal gowns. ?It looks like someone just moved everything from D18 right into my closet,? thought Bobby. He fingered the fine cloth of the bridesmaid dress he'd worn to his best friend's wedding a couple of months ago. The low-cut sequined gown he wore to opening night at the opera hung close by. Part of the dress he'd worn to last spring's prom poked out of the array. His eye caught the still visible stain on its lacy hem and he quickly folded the plush fabric in between the other dresses to hide it. Bobby's attention was drawn to the bathroom. He could hear a trickle of water in the toilet followed by a flush. ?Ah, that felt good.? Brad, still bare naked, walked through the door of the bathroom. ?Well, what do you think?? Bobby's reply was firm. ?You know this can't go on. You've got to go back to where you came from. You can't stay here.? ?Sorry sweetie, but that would be impossible. It seems your little mistake this morning caused some real havoc. In fact, you might have ripped a hole in the fabric of the universe.? Brad delivered the news casually. ?Go ahead, see for yourself.? He nodded toward the stained glass window. Bobby moved to the window and carefully stepped inside. As he entered the choir loft of the great cathedral his eyes fell on a large metal tube that had fallen from the church's splendid pipe organ. It was bent and hung over the choir rail and at a precarious angle. Bobby stepped forward and placed a hand on the shaky handrail. He looked below and viewed a scene of utter disaster. The windows of the church were all broken. Debris littered the floor of the nave. Pews were moved and many were overturned. The chancel and apse appeared to have been scorched in a fire that was still smoldering. Bobby could make out none of his stored images. As he stared at this scene of destruction Bobby heard a loud snapping sound. A stone gargoyle had come loose from one of the pillars holding up the vaulted ceiling. The stone dropped the full height of the church and smashed into the terrazzo floor, leaving a gaping hole nearly three feet in diameter. Bobby gasped as he saw Mrs. Makowitz's stunned face pop up through the hole. He turned and fled back through the open window. Once inside the bedroom he closed and fastened the window shut. ?Good move.? Brad had pulled on his briefs but was still standing near the bathroom door. ?Nothing good is likely to come from that mess anymore. But don't worry, I salvaged most of your important stuff. These rooms, a lot of your clothes,? he waved toward the closet, ?my job, the investments, stock portfolio, and the estate in the Heights. We still have the stables, swimming pool, guest cottage, and the tennis courts. I even saved the Mercedes.? Brad picked up a key bob from the dresser and Bobby heard the chirp of a car on the street below. He looked out and wondered aloud, ?How did you get a parking spot so close? No one gets a spot like that on these city streets.? ?You created it. Remember? I parked it there last night, in your fantasy. That's where we had our goodbye kiss. It was just a couple of hours ago.? Bobby turned to Brad. ?Look, you know this isn't going to work. I am not attracted to men, at least not outside my fantasy life, and I know for damn sure you are completely heterosexual. What were you thinking?? ?Hey, you're the one with all the thoughts.? Brad waved toward the stained glass. He paused for a moment, then more seriously, ?I know, I know. It's a serious problem. But I can't just stop my affection for you. That's how you created me and, at this point, it can't be undone. But I think I have a solution.? Brad held out a hand. ?Come, stand here in front of the bathroom.? Bobby was unsure what to do. He tentatively moved a few steps forward. Brad reached out for Bobby's shoulders and guided him to the doorway. Bobby looked up. Inside the bathroom was a new wooden framed mirror on the far wall. It was mounted just above the designer sink and the luxurious matching pink towels that had replaced his dingy bathroom fixtures. Warm architectural ceiling lights lit the two men's images with a warm glow. ?Now close your eyes.? Bobby did as he was told. Brad raised his hands over Bobby's head and cupped them. He slowly parted them and lowered them to his neck and then halfway down Bobby's shoulders. As he did so Bobby's hair grew long until it cascaded down to Brad's outstretched arms. Bobby opened his eyes to see a reflection of Veronica's beautiful full tresses cascading from his head. ?There's more.? Brad swept his hand over Bobby's face. The countenance of a beautiful woman appeared in the mirror. He watched her eyes widen into a look of astonishment as Bobby's amazement at the sudden change in his appearance took hold. He recognized the clear complexion as that of the girl at the deli, his neck was also hers. This new face was wonderfully symmetrical, with large brown eyes, high cheeks, and a charming smile. Bobby thought it might be a girl's face he'd seen in a department store and logged a while back. His long lashes and perfect make-up exactly mimicked Shirley's. From the neck up, Bobby was a beautiful woman. Brad continued. He slid his hands along Bobby's arms and hands. When Bobby looked at them he felt new graceful arms, delicate hands, long fingers, and immaculately manicured nails. His left ring finger had a huge diamond ring on it. ?We'll get something bigger once we make it official,? Brad whispered. Brad was standing directly behind Bobby as he wrapped his arms around Bobby's chest. Bobby's torso seemed to shrink and the breasts from the security girl appeared, cupped in Brad's large hands. Brad continued to sweep his hands downward, Bobby's lower torso and hips turned into Marilyn's. Bobby felt his manhood pull close and then turn inside out. Brad was still concentrating hard as he slowly moved his hands down toward the floor. As he did, Bobby's legs transformed into the legs of the yoga instructor at the studio down the street. Bobby recalled placing her in the cathedral after peering into the studio window one night last winter as he headed home from work. Bobby had a woman's full body now. It was created from parts assembled from his mind, but the result was a unique woman that belonged to fully to him. Brad lifted a neatly folder garment from the bathroom vanity, opened it, and then pulled a satin pink nightshirt over Bobby's head. It was soft and luxurious, short and low-cut, frilly and feminine. Bobby immediately recognized it as the one on page 17 of the Victoria's Secret catalogue. He glanced in the mirror to see how it looked on his new body. His eye caught a small stain on the sleeve. He flicked away what looked like a small piece of sliced tomato. Brad stood behind him with his head tilted forward, his nose close to Bobby's neck in a way that mimicked the pose he'd seen in the perfume ad. He carefully placed a diamond necklace around Booby's neck. Bobby turned toward Brad and pulled him close. Brad responded by wrapping his arms around Bobby's waist. Bobby buried his head into Brad's chest and let his musky aroma spill over him. Bobby thought, ?It's so wonderful to be held by human being who actually cares about me.? Bobby recalled how he'd planned to explore the emotional landscape between two people who cared for one another. Yesterday he thought it might simply heighten his arousal. Today he was certain it was a necessary part of the human condition. He stretched his mind to reach for an emotional packet he might touch but could find nothing at first. Bobby heard a rumbling sound within his head. A cascade of colors appeared to fall from a distant source above him and then spilled directly into his head. It was a torrent of emotions. Compassion, love, caring, tenderness, wonder, excitement, empathy, nurturing, hope, relief, satisfaction and many others. Each came at him in a streaming torrent of color and each stream played a musical note as it touched his consciousness. It was the music of the universe. The feelings showered onto him and he could momentarily feel each affect as it touched him. But Bobby wanted more, he wanted to make each of these streams a permanent part of him. He needed to merge each of them into the very core of his being. Then Bobby realized that each of these passionate sentiments must already belong to him. ?I couldn't be feeling them unless they were already mine.? They had been lurking somewhere inside of him all along. ?I must have been blocking them my entire life,? thought Bobby. Bobby stretched open his mind and it appeared to expand a hundredfold. It was large enough now to contain the entire universe of his new found emotions. Now, as the streams entered, Bobby became one with them. His consciousness danced rhythmically with the cosmic music of the universe. The emotions swirled around inside his mind and then fused permanently into the fabric of his soul. Bobbi, awash in a wonder of new emotions, sobbed tears of joy. Brad was aware that something wonderful had happened. He moved his finger to wipe a mascara stained streak away. A second later their attention was drawn to a movement on the back wall of the bedroom. A streak of red fluid flowed out of the stained glass and dripped down the wall. Then a blue, and a yellow. The entire glass turned into a bubbling mass of color. Streaks of color spread along the wall and onto the floor. In seconds the glass had completely disappeared. The colored mass of fluid soon evaporated without a trace. All that remained was a solid pastel blue bedroom wall. The portal was gone. There would be no more fantasies. Brad looked deep into Bobbi's eyes. ?I love you.? Bobbi wrapped an arm around his neck and stood on tiptoes, head tilted back and lips parted. ?I love you too.? The words made her feel, for the very first time, fully and completely human.