Hot And Bothered - Part Three free porn video

Hot and Bothered - Part Three By: Light Clark Synopsis: It was all supposed to be temporary, a little sexy fun for a few days before changing back, but with that change now permanent, Billy struggles with everything else that has to change, too. Warning: This story is significantly smuttier than my other work and contains multiple graphic scenes of a sexual nature. Reader discretion is strongly advised. Chapter 18 It was with wide, unbelieving eyes that I stared down at my body. Impossibly, it still had the same massive tits and smooth, curvy form that it had possessed for the last few days. Not willing to trust my eyes, I deployed my hands to the task, but they felt what my eyes saw, soft, girly bits where there should have been taught, manly ones. "But ... I don't ... something ..." I huffed in disbelief, barely managing to even get those few words out in between rapid, shallow gasps for air. "Ollie." Latching onto that name, I took off, sprinting to my room. Within, I found the tote bag that I'd been carrying around the day before it. Yanking it off the floor, I tore through the contents until I found my phone. Fumbling the device in shaky hands, it was almost too much of a challenge just to get it to call my likely soon to be very ex-friend. "Come on ... come on ..." I repeated under my breath as I clutched the device to my ear with both hands, listening to it ring over and over- "Hey, man," Ollie greeted with a friendly tone that I found infuriating. "I assume that is wh-" "What did you do?!" I screamed into the phone. The response that came was a bewildered, "Wait? You're still a girl? I thought-" "You thought what?!" I snapped, cutting the man off. "That it would be a funny prank to swap out the pills so I'd think I was stuck like this?!" "What?" was all that Ollie said in return, sounding truly baffled. Despite that, I held my path, spitting out an accusation. "Stop playing around, asshole! This isn't fucking funny! Just tell me where the real fucking pill or I swear to fucking god, I will slit your throat in your fucking sleep!" "Dude, I didn't swap pills out on you or any other pranks, I swear!" Ollie yelled back emphatically. "Then why am I still a fucking girl?!" I shrieked, voice cracking as my throat ached and my eyes burned. "I took the fucking pill you left on the counter!" "I don't know!" Ollie exclaimed. "You're the one that got the medication!" "So it's my fault?!" I demanded. "No!" Ollie was quick to deny. "It's just ... I know nothing about the fucking stuff. Why don't you call your boss? He's the one who hooked you up with it right?" "Uhm ... yeah. Right!" I latched onto that lifeline. "Thanks, dude." "No problem, and good-" That was all the further my friend got before I ended the call. Immediately, I was scrolling through my contacts until Mr. Johnston's name appeared on the screen. A tap started the call, and I once again found myself clutching my phone to my ear as I muttered, "Come on ... come on ..." "Hey Billy," a voice that was definitely not my boss's answered, prompting a moment of panic until I recognized the voice as belonging to Gina. "Don't think you've ever called me during vacation before. Something happen?" "Uhm, yeah ... you could say that," I answered, gathering myself to explain. Before I could go further, though, Gina asked, "Who is this?" That was when a few things dawned on me. One, I'd just called my boss as a woman he didn't recognize and might not even believe was me. Two, I was going to have to explain that, which meant outing my theft of some very expensive medication. And three, that I needed to get on with all of that already. "It's Billy, sir. I uhm ... I sorta nicked a dose of your, 'special medicine' before you left on your trip," I just came right out and said it, hoping that would be enough to get the other currently-female man to believe me. The disappointed sigh that followed seemed to indicate success even as it earned me a reprimand. "What the hell, Billy? I can't believe you-" Unable to wait for my boss to finish, I just blurted, "I'm stuck!" "What?" Gina gasped. "I took the reversal pill, and I didn't reverse," I explained. "What?" Gina repeated. "I took the reversal pill, and I didn't reverse!" I ended up repeating myself, as well, merely blasting the words out louder and more frantic before adding the all important question, "What do I do?!" While I waited for an answer, I had to endure a brutal moment of silence only to get a question in return. "You took the pill to turn into a woman, then took the pill to change back and it didn't work?" "Yes!" I confirmed. "You didn't take two of the same kind of pill by accident did you?" Gina asked. "Of course not! I'm not an idiot!" I declared. A thoughtful, "Hmm ..." came next, followed by, "When did you take each pill?" "Uhm, the girl one I took Friday after work, and the reversal one I just took like ... five minutes ago," I rattled off. "Why? You said time didn't matter, that it was all about taking the reversal pill." "What? I said no such thing!" Gina retorted in her defense. "All I said was that taking the pill was how I changed back. Time is very important!" A feeling of dread filled the pit of my stomach. "Wh-Wh-What does that mean?" "It means, you're not supposed to stay a woman for more than seventy-two hours," my boss revealed some very crucial information that I had somehow never gotten. "You've been one for almost twice that!" That news hit me like a haymaker, but I didn't go down. I had one last desperate play to try, "But, that doesn't mean I'm stuck right? There's something I can do? Take more pills maybe?" There was a terrible pause before an even more terrible answer of, "I don't know." Suddenly, I felt lost, like all sense had been knocked out of my head. It was all I could do to stay on my feet as I swayed dizzily. Even that much required me stumbling back against the wall to catch myself with a heavy thud. Then, even as the moment threatened to swallow me up whole, Gina caught me with a hopeful, "But Adam might. I'll get a message to him explaining the situation and all your contact info. Just try to stay calm until he gets in touch. Okay?" Nodding dimly and uselessly, I parroted back a weak, "Okay." *********************************************** *********************************************** My phone shook in my hands as the knee my arm rested on bounced rapidly with nervous energy. That bouncing had been going on for some time, but something else had as well - a lack of any response from my phone. It had been damningly, painfully silent. Meanwhile, seconds kept ticking by to measure the passage of time. Even though I had no idea if those seconds mattered, it almost felt like the cells in my body were locking into place one at a time, freezing permanently into female form. I just needed Mr. Cartwright to call already, so he could fix me before it was too late. Then, the first sound in a long while rang out, but it wasn't from my phone. It remained quiet in my hands. The noise came in a series of firm, crisp knocks on the door to my apartment. Hearing anything was enough to get me to start in my seat on the couch. It was even enough to pop me straight up to my feet, but I didn't rush across the apartment to answer the door. Instead, I moved slowly, brow furrowed, too afraid of disappointment to hope that this was my salvation. It could just be some delivery guy dropping off a package or ... well, I wasn't sure who else it might be. Maybe it was Mr. Cartwright? Hope starting to build, I reached out, snatched the door open, and there he was complete with his usual trench coat and fedora. Slowly, I watched that hat tilt down then back up as the man scanned my appearance before finally declaring, "Billy McCormick, I presume?" "Uhm ... yes," I confirmed, looking down at my currently female self a bit self-consciously. "Not that I look it at the moment." "A matter of perspective," Mr. Cartwright answered vaguely as again his head moved, this time glancing from side to side before he asked, "May I come in? I believe we would both prefer to speak in private." "Oh! Of course!" I agreed immediately, stepping back to allow the man to enter the apartment. Mr. Cartwright did so while swiping his hat off his head and inquiring, "Which way is your bedroom?" "Uhm ... here let me show you," I answered before quickly shutting the door and scurrying around ahead of the man to lead the way to my bedroom. "So do you-" "Patience, Billy," Mr. Cartwright cut me off. "Oh ...okay ..." I mumbled unhappily. I didn't want to wait. I wanted to figure out what to do right away and then get it done. That said, there was no way I was going to risk angering the only person who might be able to help me by disobeying, so I kept my mouth shut all the way to my bedroom and even once we were there. Entering the room behind me, Mr. Cartwright not only closed the door but even locked it. He didn't speak a word during either, nor did he as his gaze once again swept over my body. No, the only information he gave me was the pensive look on his face. Was that bad? Did he not know how to help? Maybe he was just figuring out exactly what needed to be done? Yeah, that had to be- "Gregory mentioned that you took the first pill last Friday, correct?" Mr. Cartwright finally spoke up after what seemed like an eternity to me. I was quick to nod. "Yep, right after work. Tried to take the reversal about an hour ago and nothing." The man's pensive look was paired with a slow nod and a moment of silence before he queried, "And that is it? You just failed to return to normal? In every other way you can think of, you are exactly as you were after you took the first pill?" It was the last of those questions that had my brow furrowing in confusion. "Uhm ... I'm not really sure-" "This form that you have right now, is the one you had after the initial transformation," Mr. Cartwright cut me off to clarify. "That was already the size of your bust. You remain fully female down below. There have been no changes whatsoever." "I, uh ... I don't think so," I answered uncertainly. "Check," the man commanded. "O-Okay ..." I conceded, dragging out the last syllable for a bit as I looked down at myself. Certainly, everything seemed the same, but I couldn't exactly see much besides my massive tits, and even those were covered by a t-shirt. Should I get naked? Not comfortable enough for that, I settled for just using my hands and a few careful peeks inside my clothes. Even that felt awkward with an old man staring at me intently as I essentially groped myself. In the end, though, at least I could answer, "Everything seems to be the same." "Fascinating," Mr. Cartwright responded before once again returning to just looking me over pensively. For a moment, I just stood there enduring it as I waited for more, but it didn't come. I was left with only that single, vague word to fuel my anxiety. Was he saying that was a good thing? Was it a bad thing? "Uhm ... does that mean you know how to change me back?" I dared to interrupt the man's thoughts. "Hmm?" Mr. Cartwright hummed as he shifted his attention back up to my eyes, and I thought, maybe I would finally get the good news I'd been waiting for. "Oh, heavens no. There's no changing back, now." Never in my life had I found it so hard to understand words. Yes, those sounded simple, but surely, I must've gotten something wrong. I had to have. "But ... couldn't I just take more reversal pills or maybe there's some medicine for turning girls into boys or-" I babbled out ideas, assuming that there had to be something that I'd missed. What I got in return was a scoffed-out laugh. "A pill to turn gorgeous women into men? Not exactly a lot of demand for that in the world - at least not outside of revenge," Mr. Cartwright joked before shaking his head. "No, there's nothing to be done. More reversal pills won't do anything. There's no opposite version of the pills. You will undoubtedly be this way for the rest of your life." Rest of your life. The words echoed inside my skull - an impossible damnation. It just couldn't be true. The medicine was temporary. That had been the whole point. That was why I'd taken it, so I could fool around as a girl then go back to normal. I didn't want to stay as one - especially not after ... it couldn't be ... I couldn't be ... "You should count yourself very lucky, though," I heard Mr. Cartwright continue. Dazedly, I lifted my gaze up to him. "Wha-? Why?" "Because you essentially just overdosed on a very dangerous drug," Mr. Cartwright explained. "I've never seen someone come out of it unscathed." "This?" I questioned, gesturing down at my still and apparently permanently female body. "Is unscathed?" I couldn't believe the nod that answered me nor the words that followed it. "Oh yes, very much so. Most people are killed outright as their organs just shut down. There have been a few lucky ones that survived only to end caught somewhere in between their male selves and their female selves, but it's very rare. It's also not a pretty sight. My clientele tends to be quite old and ... unappealing and when you mix that with a beautiful, young woman you tend to get something that looks a lot more like an ugly, mannish, old woman with a surprise between their legs. You, though, have remained completely female and stunningly beautiful if a bit ... cartoonish. You're very fortunate." A stupified blink was all that I could manage in response at first. Very fortunate? Maybe, I was better off than the ones that got stuck in between, but the ones that died sounded like the fortunate ones. What was I supposed to do? How could this even be possible? "But ... Mr. Johnston ... he's been using this for years without problems. It can't be that dangerous!" I tried to argue. "Oh, it's perfectly safe as long as you follow the rules," Mr. Cartwright informed me. "That's why I make it a point to be very clear and very serious with my clients about how the medicine is to be used, it's limitations, and the consequences of pushing those limits. You, however, are not my client. You're a thief, who is very lucky to not be dead right now." There was condemnation in those final sentences. The man didn't consider himself or his medicine responsible for my predicament. He thought I was to blame, and I couldn't really fault that logic. Why had I stolen the pills? If only I'd saved up money to buy my own or tried harder to talk my boss into sharing with me or ... something then maybe ... maybe ... "You are also lucky in that I have a use for you," Mr. Cartwright declared. 'As I said, I've never encountered someone who could survive unscathed before, so I'd appreciate some samples from you. In exchange, I'd be willing to take care of the numerous legal issues that might arise from your sudden ... shift in appearance, and perhaps provide some cash to cover expenses like new clothes." Legal issues, clothes, a life as a woman, I couldn't wrap my head around any of it. There had to be something else that could be done - some way out of this. I couldn't see one, though. If it was a matter of money, the offer would've been to turn me back in exchange for cooperation. Was he just trying to punish me for stealing his medicine from a client? Was there something I was missing? A hand clamped onto my shoulder and my gaze jerked up to find Mr. Cartwright standing right in front of me - even towering over me. He wasn't an incredibly tall man, maybe six foot, but that was a lot more than my ... how tall was I even? I'd never bothered to check, because the exact feet and inches hadn't mattered. After all, I was only supposed to be at that height for a few days, maybe a week - or at least, so I had thought. "I understand that this is difficult for you, but I will not have my time wasted by your crisis of identity," Mr. Cartwright stated coldly. "Decide if you are willing to take my offer now, and come to terms with your fate on your own time." "But-" I started to protest, to argue, to try to find a way out, except that one word was all the further I managed to get. "There are no buts here, Billy. This has happened, and you have to live with it - or choose to die over it. I don't care which," Mr. Cartwright crushed all of my hopes. "What I do care about is hearing you say 'yes' or 'no'. I'd recommend yes. It costs you nothing and gains you a lot. Whatever your answer is, though, I want it right now, so give it to me." Lost in the nightmare of my predicament, I just mumbled, "Yes ... I guess." "Good choice," Mr. Cartwright declared as he reached into his coat to pull out a small case. "Now, sit on the bed." *********************************************** *********************************************** I felt strangely ... empty. One might have thought rage or despair or regret would be whirling through me, but none of them were. If anything, I felt ... disconnected, like my mind was lost in a haze that had no link to the world around me. It was because of that haze that I could sit there on the bed, staring into the mirrored closet doors in my room without feeling anything. The gorgeous, busty redhead within that reflective surface didn't seem to be me. The stack of hundred dollar bills tossed casually on the bed beside her weren't mine. Everything in the mirror belonged to some other world, some other life that wasn't my own. Except, it was my life now. That was what Dr. Cartwright had declared before taking his samples and leaving behind money and a vague promise that someone would contact me to handle my 'legal issues', whatever that meant. The legalities of my situation seemed pretty unimportant compared to the reality of it. What was I supposed to do now? I remained lost in that question, never making any progress toward an answer for ... well, I had no idea how long. What I did know was that the timeless expanse ended with the sound of Ollie's voice tentatively asking, "Billy?" Swiveling my head away from the mirror, I rested my gaze on the door. There, my roommate stood, one hand resting on the frame and a look in his eyes that didn't seem much less lost than I felt. From the looks of it, he didn't know what to do with what he'd found either. "Hey," I greeted with a tone of voice that sounded odd even to me, vacantly pleasant. I even felt my lips curl into a smile as if this was just another random meeting with my friend. "Is it dinner time already?" "What?" Ollie questioned before furrowing his brow. "It's only lunch time. I came home 'cause you weren't answering my calls or texts." "Oh," I mumbled, glancing toward my phone resting on the nightstand. Had it rung at some point? I couldn't remember. "My battery must've died." Huffing in frustration, Ollie started across the room toward my phone. "Well then charge it, dumbass. What if that guy you were waiting for called while it was off?" "He didn't," I answered numbly. "And how do you know that?" my roommate demanded as he scooped up my phone only to scowl when he looked down at it. "Because he said he was done with me after he stopped by earlier," I told him. My friend's scowl deepened even further before he looked up from my phone. This time, his eyes didn't look lost. They looked angry. "What do you mean, done with you?" I shrugged. "Done, finished, through with." "But you're still-!" Ollie started to growl only to cut himself off as his jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. A vigorous shake of his head cast those actions away, replaced by a pointed question of, "Why didn't he change you back?" "Couldn't," I responded simply. "Couldn't?!" Ollie exclaimed incredulously. "They're his fucking weirdo pills aren't they?! Doesn't he fucking know how they work!" "He certainly seemed to," I replied as my gaze dropped to my lap. Well, that's where I'd intended to look, but there was a lot of t-shirt covered boob in the way, and what I could see was all wrong - broad hips, shapely thighs, and two delicate hands clenched together. Suddenly, the haze was gone and everything was real. This wasn't just something in the mirror. It was my reality, an inescapable one that I had brought on myself. My hands lost their grip on one another as my arms wrapped around my waist. My breathing lost its steadiness as ragged shakes rattled them. My eyes lost their clarity as burning tears started to blur their sight. "But I broke the rules, and ..." I continued without the vacant pleasantness in my voice. Instead, it sounded wet and hoarse. It was so bad that I had to pause to breathe or I would never have been able to force out any more words. "... and there was nothing he could do." I couldn't see how Ollie reacted to that declaration, but I could hear him start on many of the same paths that I had tried while talking to Mr. Cartwright. "But ... how could he ... there has to be ... " My response was a shake of my head and a slight paraphrase of something the drug dealer had said, "There are no buts here, Ollie. This has happened, and I have to live with it." A sizable gap followed before my friend finally spoke again to offer a weak and useless, "I'm so sorry." "Not your fault," I told him. "Yeah, but I still-" Ollie started up some explanation. In no mood to listen, I cut him off. "Leave me alone, Ollie." Again, there was a silent pause, albeit shorter than the last, before my roommate answered, "Yeah, okay." After that, he did exactly as asked, walking out of the room and leaving me alone with my fate. *********************************************** *********************************************** Chapter 19 "What?" Ollie questioned with bewilderment written all over his face. "I said I want a fucking ride!" I growled impatiently. Rocking back in his seat, Ollie screwed his face up incredulously. "Dressed like that? You're not still trying to find a guy even after-" "Fuck no!" I denied outright and emphatically. "What I'm trying to find is so much fucking booze that I don't remember that I'm fucking stuck as a fucking girl, and if I dress like this," I gestured down at the slutty outfit that I'd bought the first time I'd gone to a bar. "Most of it will be free." Skepticism greeted that response as my roommate eyed me uncertainly. "I don't think that's a good idea ..." "Well, I don't fucking care what you think!" I countered. "I think, I want to get fucking wasted." "Sure, but we could that here," Ollie pointed out. "I can run to the liquor store real quick and-" "No!" I refused, slashing my hands across in front of me. "There is one fucking upside to being a fucking girl, and I'm gonna take advantage of it! Now, either give me a ride or I'll drive my fucking self!" "But you don't actually have a l-" Ollie tried to argue. "I don't fucking care!" I shouted him into silence. "Just giving me a fucking yes or a fucking no!" Neither response came immediately as my roommate spent the next moment offering only a weird look that included a furrowed brow and a tight jaw. A second later, he shrugged and gave me his answer, "Okay, I'll drive. Just give me a couple minutes to get ready." "Fine," I spat before walking over to lean against the counter with my arms folded impatiently. True to his word, Ollie took only a couple of minutes to prepare before he said, "Alright, let's go." Despite that, my response was a huffed, "Finally," as I started toward the door. That proved to be the last thing either of us said for quite some time. I brooded my way through the hall, down the elevator, and to my friend's car. Inside, I gave the name of a bar to go to, but that was it. Ollie's only response to that had been a nod, but I got the feeling that he had a lot more that he wanted to say. He just never actually said it. Instead, he made a lot of awkward glances my way both during the walk and during the ride that I found infuriating. It got to the point where I pointedly looked out the window and away from him just so that I wouldn't have to deal with glimpsing his movements out of the corner of my eye. He could be such a fucking nuisance. Luckily, the bar I'd picked wasn't far, so I didn't have to endure my roommate for long before we arrived. "Here we are," my friend declared as he pulled his car to a stop in a parking spot. "Great, thanks," I muttered insincerely as I ripped off my seatbelt and shoved the car door open. "Now beat it." "What?" Ollie question with obvious confusion. Turning back, I leaned into the car to very clearly and coldly hiss, "I said beat it. No one's gonna buy me drinks if I've got some asshat hanging around me all night." "Dude, I get you're-" Ollie made one last attempt to argue about my plans, but I didn't give him the chance to finish. "I'm not your fucking dude," I spat before slamming the door closed to well and truly cut off my roommate's protests. "Not any more," I added under my breath as I spun away to start toward the bar. There was a lot of alcohol waiting inside and I intended to drink all of it. With any luck, it would be enough to make me black out so hard that I'd never wake up from it. *********************************************** *********************************************** The rich burn of strong liquor burned its way down my throat and into my gut. It would be great for getting me drunk, but unfortunately, it was a bit much to handle. I came out of the gulp, coughing a little and fighting back against the discomfort brought on by the strong drink. "Wow ... never met a girl who's drink of choice was a double of scotch," the man beside me, the one who'd paid for that burning sensation that I was feeling, remarked. With one last effort to clear my throat, I turned and forced myself to smile at the guy in a flirty manner. "Oh, and does that bother you?" "No, not at all," the man was quick to answer, adding an emphatic shake of his head. Why would he say anything else? For all he knew, he had a chance with me, and I was smoking hot, so he didn't want to blow it. Besides, almost everyone was easier to get when they were drunk. For my part, all I cared about was the guy's eagerness, because it meant I could say, "Great, because I'd love for you to join me in another one." "Another one?" the man questioned, definitely a little surprised by my eagerness for consumption, but he wasn't going to say no. To the contrary, he recovered quickly and turned to wave at the bartender with an accommodating, "Coming right up." Unfortunately, eager as the guy was, he couldn't make alcohol appear out of thin air. He had to wait for the bartender, who was not nearly as quick to serve him as he would've been to serve me alone. That would've required me to spend some of the money I'd stuffed in my cleavage before coming here, though, and I had no interest in that. As I'd told Ollie. There was one good thing about my predicament, and that was that I wouldn't have to pay to get all these thoughts washed out of my head. For the moment, though, those thoughts were still firmly inside of my head. They were ready to tell me that booze wasn't just going to be free tonight, but that I was probably not going to have to worry about paying ever again ? well, at least until I got old. At some point, I wouldn't even be a hot chick anymore. I'd be a cougar at best, and then an old lady, because this was forever. I'd have to sit to pee forever. I'd have to lug these massive tits around forever. I'd have to deal with stupid women's clothes forever. I'd have to? Then, my glass was being filled up, followed by the bartender saying, "Here ya go." As that finished, the man who was buying reached for his own and started to say, "Shall we go on the count of?" only to cut off as my hands lashed out, grabbed my drink, and brought it up to be downed in one big gulp. To his credit, his eyes barely had time to widen before he chuckled, shrugged, and remarked, "Or bottoms up I guess." After that, he tossed his drink back much more smoothly than I did ? no coughing or wincing or nothing. "Mmm, good stuff." "Yeah ..." I mumbled, feeling the second double startin to do its work. The world wasn't quite as ... distinct as it had been, but I was far from an empty mind. No, instead, I found myself looking at this guy buying me drinks. A week ago, he'd have been my competition, not fawning over me like this ? pretty stiff competition, too. His game wasn't bad, and he could roll with the punches. Not a bad looking guy either. God, what I wouldn't give to go back to being that, to be hitting on some hot chick right now instead of watching this fucker try to not stare at my tits, to not even have tits. "So, Tiffany, what else do you like besides great scotch?" the man inquired. "Huh?" I mumbled in momentary confusion. Oh, right, I'd given this guy that slutty name I'd been using. Or was it more than that now? Was I some slut named Tiffany now? I certainly wasn't Billy anymore. "I asked what else you like besides scotch," the man repeated himself. For the second time, my answer involved a, "Huh," but this time I followed it with, "Oh, uhm ... I also like vodka." While I'd hoped that would lead to more booze, the guy ended up laughing instead as if I'd made a joke. "Well, who doesn't? I meant something outside of alcohol, though." For a moment, I was irritated at being thwarted, but then an idea popped into my head along with a grin on my lips. "I don't know, but I'm sure another round would be enough to get me to open up." This time, the guy picked up the right signal, and he didn't seem to mind the idea of trading booze for the chance to keep chatting with me. With an agreeable, "Coming right up," he started waving down the bartender once more. *********************************************** *********************************************** "So, I took off with this big, fat guard chasing me, rolls of blubber bouncing up and down ..." the guy told a story that he obviously thought was exciting. I didn't agree. My attention forked off in a different direction, imagining how, much like the fat guard, if I ever had to chase someone, there would be a lot of bouncing. It wouldn't be fun, either. "Stupid tits," I muttered, even going so far as to glare down at the deep expanse of cleavage I had on display. "Huh? Did you say something, Tiffany?" the man inquired, pausing his story. The sound of my not-name jerked my gaze back up to the guy as I gave an exaggerated shake of my head. "Nope." "Oh ... okay. Where was I then ..." the man muttered, looking a little lost for a moment before he dove back into his story. I didn't even bother to start listening this time. Instead, I let out a bored puff of air before reaching over to grab my latest drink from the bar. It was much more interesting, large, brightly colored, and full of fruit. I couldn't remember when I'd ordered it, though. I did seem to remember that at one point I'd been drinking something else, something that came in small glasses and didn't taste very good. Oh well. No big deal. This one was good. As I sucked on the straw in my fruity drink, I glanced back over at the guy who was still babbling on about his escapades with the guard. Ugh, it was so boring. Why couldn't he be more interesting? Ooo, like those. My attention shifted yet again, this time to a pair of boobs bouncing their way across in front of me. They weren't as big or bouncy as mine, but they were plenty of both to draw my eye, especially when my other option was some boring dude. They were attached to a pretty hot girl, too, who wore a dress just professional enough for the office, but still plenty slutty. Mmm, I liked that. She seemed to be alone, too, at least for now. She got a seat at one of the booths, though, so maybe she was waiting for friends. That meant there was a limited window to make a move on her. "Yeah, yeah, just a second, bro," I dismissed the boring guy sitting next to me at the bar with a wave of my hand before setting my drink aside and rising from my seat. Throughout all of that, my eyes never left the hot chick with the big rack and not-too-slutty dress, even when my first step ended with me swaying so badly to one side, I was well on my way to falling. "Whoa! Careful!" the boring man exclaimed as his strong hands caught my slim shoulders. "I remember when I had strong hands," I remarked. "What?" the man questioned in confusion. Not really sure why I'd said that, I shrugged and giggled. "I'onno." That earned me a quizzical look from the man. "Alright, I think you might've had enough. Maybe I should give you a ride home." "Uh uh!" I denied outright, shoving out with my hands to push myself away from him. "Home's boring! You're boring, too! I'm gonna go hit on that hot chick over there with the boobs." "What?!" this time the guy sounded truly bewildered, but I didn't care. All that mattered to me was that his hands weren't on me anymore. With nothing to hold me in place, I spun around, going about a quarter turn too far in the process. I corrected that quickly enough to make a b-line toward the girl I'd spotted earlier. Well, it seemed to be one of those zig-zaggy b-lines, but that was just because people kept bumping into me. Rude fuckers. Despite all the assholes in this bar, I managed to fight my way across the room until finally, I caught myself on the edge of my target's table. Leaning on it heavily, I offered the girl a just the right amount of confident smile as I greeted, "Hey there." "Uhm ... hey ..." the hot chick offered back, looking me over. That was always a good sign. Bitches only checked out guys when they were interested. "Can I help you with something?" "Yeah ... definitely ..." I answered, nodding my head slowly. In fact, I kept right on nodding even after I ran out of stuff to say. The woman waited a moment before she finally picked up her half of the conversation, "And what is that exactly?" My brow furrowed. "What's what?" "What can I help you with?" the woman questioned. "Besides your obvious lack of self-control." Giggling at that, I remarked, "Funny." "Yes, I'm sure my friends will get a kick out of this when I tell them," the hot chick remarked, her tone sounding a little odd. Whatever, we were still talking, so I had to be doing good. Actually, it was probably time to make a move. What should it be? As I tried to think of a good line, I let my gaze wander over my quarry, which naturally led to them landing on her jugs. Mmm, yeah, they were great ? even better up close. Still not as awesome as mine were. In fact ... "So, I couldn't help but notice you have boobs. I have boobs, too. I'll let you play with mine if I can play with yours," I offered what seemed to me to be an excellent deal. For some reason, though, a laugh burst out of this chick's lips. What was up with that? After a second the woman managed to control her ridiculous outburst, pulling the laughs back inside her smiling lips. That was much better ? or at least, it was until she shook her head and said, "I'm sorry, but I'm not into girls." "What? Why not?!" I demanded. "Girls are awesome. They're all soft, and sweet, and cuuuurrrvy." Rather than a good answer, all I got was a shrug and, "It's just not my thing." "Fine! Whatever!" I huffed as I pushed myself off the table so hard that I nearly toppled over as I staggered backward. "Your loss!" With that, I spun around to march back to the bar where there was plenty of fruit that didn't belong to stupid bitches that didn't know what they were missing. When I arrived, I found that no fruit belonged to me either, at least not anymore. The drink I had left behind was nowhere to be seen, prompting me to mutter, "Stupid bartender," as I clambered onto the stool. Now I was going to have to wait until another guy showed up to buy? Before I could even finish that thought, I heard, "Can I buy you a drink?" "Well, that was quick," I murmured as I looked up and to the side to find a guy in the seat next to me where the boring guy had been before I'd left. Wait ... was this guy the boring guy? I couldn't really tell. In fact, I wasn't really sure what the boring dude had looked like. This guy looked boring, too, so maybe? While I peered at him trying to figure out if we'd already met, the man smirked and chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes," he remarked before he dropped a hand in front of him to grab a drink and slide it over to me. "And luckily for you, I already have something that I think will be perfect for you." "Ooo," I offered in surprised delight as the drink did seem to be perfect for me. Actually, it was the exact same type as the one I had left behind. What luck! "Thanks!" I chirped as I eagerly grabbed the glass and pulled it into range so I could start sucking on the straw. "My pleasure," the man replied. "I'm ... David by the way." "Tiff'ny," I returned without removing the straw from my mouth. "Nice to meet ..." came the beginning of some more small talk, but I never caught the end. The rest of the words, in fact all the sound in the bar, vanished into a dull roar like some sort of white noise machine was right next to my ears. That was weird. Nice, though. It had been loud, and listening to some dude try to chat me up was boring. This was better. Soothing. Slouching forward, I felt my boobies squish in between my body and the bar. That prompted my gaze to drop down there in annoyance, but that emotion didn't last. As soon as I saw them, all I could think about was how great they'd be as pillows and how I wondered if I could use them as such. They were really big. Before I could start trying to achieve that end, the pillowy goodies were pulled out of my sight as my head jostled about. Next thing I knew, I was standing ... sort of. Mostly, I was leaning on something big and strong that was holding me up. Had a hand around my shoulder and everything. That was nice. Standing was a pain. Oh look, the thing could move to, so I could lean on it while I was walking. What a great? An awkward lurch sent such thoughts right into the waste bin as I grumbled, "Needs a smoother ride." As if to prove that point, my stabilizer rattled a second time. This was getting ridiculous. I wasn't going to use it if it kept doing that, so I pushed myself away to glare up at the thing. Oh, it was the dude from the bar. He looked angry too. Shouting about something that I couldn't hear through the roar in my ears. That was annoying. I wanted to hear, so I tried banging a hand against the side of my head. "?off asshole!" Sound suddenly cut back in to provide the man's shouting. "It's none of your fucking business!" "You back off! She's my friend, and she's not going home with some sleazeball who takes advantage of drunk girls!" a second male voice shot back, drawing my gaze to the side. Oh, look, it was Ollie. Wait ... no, he must just look like Ollie. My wingman wasn't with me tonight. No wonder things had gone so badly with that bitch with the boobs. Fucking Ollie. "Alright, that's it!" the guy I'd been leaning against roared as his hands shot up and curled into fists. "Either back the fuck off or I'm gonna make you!" "Not gonna happen, bro," the Ollie-look-a-like stated defiantly. "So just? That was all the further words could go as the first guy threw a fist that the second just barely managed to dodge. It probably wasn't the only punch to happen, but it was the only one I saw. In my excitement, I shouted, "Woo! Fight!" and tried to pump a fist in the air, but someone must've pushed me or something, because the next thing I knew, I was falling. Then, everything went black. *********************************************** *********************************************** Chapter 20 "Ooouughhhhfff ..." I let out a long, agonized groan the next time light found me. That said, it was more the splitting headache I had that had caused it rather than the return of vision. "How much did I drink last night?" I felt that was a very good question for two reasons. One, I couldn't remember, and two, I had never had a hangover anywhere close to as bad as the one I was currently suffering from. It was horrendous, like getting punched in the head over and over? "Punched? I murmured while rubbing at my head. For some reason, that sounded vaguely familiar. Had someone punched me last night? Well, it was easy to figure out. All I needed to do was sit up and look in the? "Aagghh! Fuck!" With my head having barely lifted a couple of inches, I gave up and let it fall back against the pillow. That was how bad the pounding got when I'd tried to sit up. The very idea of trying to do anything through that was unthinkable. "Oh, look who's finally awake," a familiar male voice, twisted wryly, remarked. Each syllable of that thudded into my head like bullets, meaning that by the time I turned toward the speaker, I was glaring in fury. That rage vanished when I saw Ollie leaning against the door frame, replaced by a smirk of my own, "Oh, you're the one who got punched." "Yes, 'eye' did," Ollie punned, tapping a finger just below the bruised mess of his left eye. "All thanks to you." "I did that?" I questioned in surprise. I couldn't remember punching Ollie or even him doing something that might have warranted it. After all, the last time I saw him was when I was getting out of his car at the bar before? Suddenly, I remembered exactly why I had such a terrible hangover or more specifically the problem that I'd been trying to drink away. It hadn't gone anywhere, though. I felt soft smoothness when my legs brushed against one another. I felt the hefty mass weighing on my chest from massive tits. I felt the absence of my old friend between my legs, a friend that I would never get to see again. No longer was I wondering how much I drank the night before. Instead, I was wondering why I hadn't drunk more. Meanwhile, Ollie chuckled and shook his head. "No, not directly anyway. The guy who tried to take you home did the actual punching." "Huh? What guy?" I queried in concern. I didn't remember a guy. Well, I remembered one guy buying me a lot of drinks until I ditched him to ... hit on a girl? Was that right? What had happened after that? There were some vague blurs and a lot of head pain, but no concrete memories surfaced to tell me. "Of course, you don't remember," Ollie scoffed derisively. "What's that supposed to me?ow!" I started to growl in my defense only to end up clutching at my head as it complained about the loud noises. "It ? means ? you need to be more careful about who you accept all these free drinks from," my roommate answered pointedly. I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. It's not the first time I got wasted. The only difference was?" "You didn't just get wasted, dude," Ollie interjected. That comment had me screwing my face up in confusion. "What? And what would you call it if not wasted?" "Oh, I didn't say you didn't ? also ? get wasted," Ollie clarified. "I said you didn't ? just ? get wasted." "Okay, and what's that supposed to mean?" I demanded impatiently. "It means, I'm pretty sure something stronger than alcohol got slipped into one of those free drinks you were chugging all night," Ollie explained. "Pfft! Whatever, man," I puffed with a dismissive wave of my hand. "That stuff's just TV news report nonsense. It happened at like one frat ever." Ollie's face twisted with skepticism. "Look, you can think what you want, but we've gone drinking together a lot. I've seen you wasted, and I've seen you keep going all the way until you pass out. I've never seen you like you were last night. You were completely out of it. You didn't even recognize me when I stepped in to help you." That all sounded very earnest, but I still had my doubts. After all, it sounded an awful lot like my roommate just being his usual overly cautious self. I'd probably just gotten super wasted on all the free drinks, and he'd flipped out about it. Besides ... "Why were you even there to 'step in' anyway?" I interrogated. "I told you to go home." "Jesus fuck! I save you from some guy pounding away at you while you're too fucked up to notice, and you're mad that I stuck around to keep an eye on you?!" Ollie exclaimed incredulously only to end with a shake of his head. "I can't believe I not only wasted my whole night, but got punched in the face for you." "Yeah, well, who asked you to do that, huh?!" I snarled back. "What?! Think I suddenly need a fucking babysitter just 'cause I've got tits now?! Is that it?!" Anger flashed across Ollie's face as his hands twisted into claws in front of him. "Argh! Fine!" he growled before spinning around to storm off. "Next time some dude wants to drag you off somewhere, I'll just fucking let him!" "Good, 'cause I don't need your damn help! I can take care of my fucking self!" I shouted after my roommate. The only response I got came a moment later when the door to the apartment slammed closed. With a frustrated huff, I flopped back against the bed, wincing as pain stabbed through my temples from the movement. It was a nightmare of a hangover, but that was just because I'd had a shit ton to drink the night before. Except, I'd had more in the past without the next morning being this bad. "Whatever," I muttered as I rolled onto my side, in the hopes of sleeping off this brutal headache. "It's probably just 'cause I'm a fucking girl." *********************************************** *********************************************** "A lawyer?" I muttered skeptically. "Yes," the voice on the other end of the phone call confirmed. "Mr. Cartwright secured my services for you, mentioning something about you having gone through a ... significant change and wanting all your identification and records to match." Significant change? That was one way to look at it ? a rather optimistic way at that. I would've said that I'd had my life ruined by some crazy drug that shouldn't even exist. I supposed, though, that it didn't really matter how I looked at it. The change had already happened and couldn't be undone. All that could be done was enduring it ? or giving up for good. When I looked down at myself, that second path seemed so very tempting, but my mouth answered, "Ah ... yeah, he mentioned that he was going to do something like that." "And you are interested in this service, correct?" the lawyer asked. "Yeah, I guess," I forced myself to mumble. "Excellent," came the man's reply along with the sounds of some shuffling before he continued on. "To keep this discreet, I'm going to need you to come into my office, and bring with you basic identifying details such as social security number, schools you've attended, place of employment and so on. I'll also need you to bring the details of any changes you wish to make ? beyond the obvious one of course. Things like a different name, if you're planning to use one." Each sentence was very matter-of-fact for the lawyer, but I found myself wincing multiple times throughout. I had no interest in meeting with some agent of Mr. Cartwright's to talk about how much in my life I wanted to change. The only thing I wanted to change was to get back to my old life. I doubted a lawyer could help me with that, though. All he could do was fudge some paperwork, which seemed so utterly insignificant and pointless, but I knew it wasn't. Eventually, I'd need to go back to work or drive a car. Eventually wasn't right now, though. "Can I have some time?" I asked. "To, uhm ... to get everything together." "Oh, of course," the lawyer answered agreeably. "I work on your schedule Miss. McCormick. Let me just give you my priority number, so that you can call and make an appointment when you're ready." Again, I found myself wincing at the idea of being a 'miss', but I pressed on. After all, the guy was being accommodating. All I had to do was take down his number, and I could put this whole thing out of mind until later, so that was exactly what I did. "Alright, looking forward to hearing from you soon, Miss McCormick. Have a nice day," the lawyer rattled off once he had finished conveying what he needed to. "Mmm, bye," I mumbled before immediately tapping the call to an end. There wasn't much purpose to the haste, though, as I spent the next several seconds staring down at the phone in my slim, feminine hands. Finally, a sigh leaked out of me as I tossed the device onto the nightstand then flopped onto the bed. Except, I made the mistake of flopping face first with the intent of burying my face in my pillow. Doing so mostly just squashed my tits under my body which had me hissing and rolling over onto my back. I had just enough time to settle into place before my phone buzzed. "What now?" I groaned as I rolled onto my side to grab the device once again. This time, it was a text, not a call, and thankfully, it wasn't from some lawyer. Despite that, I still ended up wincing when I saw the message. "Looking forward to tonight," might not seem like much to worry about, except that it had been sent by Deirdre. "Ugh fuck ... I forgot about that," I groaned as I flopped onto my back again. Ever since that pill had failed to change me back like it was supposed to, I had thought of little else besides my predicament or how to escape from it. My only thoughts of the future were of how impossible it felt to spend it like this. After all, my time as a girl had been a disaster. Sure, I got free drinks, but buying clothes was a nightmare, exercising had been a joke, and while guys had been easy to pick up they were ... Of course, Deirdre was a girl, not a guy. She was a really hot and kinky girl, too. That said, her boyfriend was going to be involved, so that didn't mean that there wasn't going to be a dude there looking to ... with me ... "Uff ... maybe I should just cancel," I muttered, crossing my legs. That seemed like the best course of action. After all, all I wanted to do that night was the same thing I'd done the night before, chug down free drinks until I either forgot what was happening or blacked out. Deirdre would probably have booze around, though, and it was a sure thing with someone really hot. Did I really want to pass that up? Growling in frustration, I shoved myself to a sitting position. Doing so sent ratty red hair falling into my face. It caused the considerable weight on my chest to shift until it was caught by the uncomfortable bra I'd never thought to take off. It also brought the girl all those things belonged to into view in the mirrored doors of my closest. At the moment, she didn't look all that beautiful. She looked tired, haggard, and sad. That was how I looked, too, because after all, she and I were the same person. My reflected face tightened as my eyes started to burn. Just feeling that made it so much worse, made it so much clearer that I was that girl, and I always would be. No amount of drinking could change that nor could any scheming or planning. After all, I had neither the intelligence nor the know-how to make a difference, and the one guy that had both had cast me off as a lost cause. He'd even hired a lawyer for me to make my fate official. "Fuck that," I spat out in disdain. I may not have had any say in what I looked like, but that didn't mean I had no say at all. There was no way I was going to let myself be some pathetic sobbing wreck of a girl. I was still me on the inside, and there was no way that I would've ever passed up sex with some hot chick to spend the night crying into my pillow. With furious purpose, I jerked my attention down to my phone, jabbing hard at the screen as I typed out a very simple, "Me too," and sent it off. Then, I yanked my gaze right back up to the mirror, but not to cry about what I saw there. No, this time, I just quickly scanned over my reflection, making a list of all the things I would need to do to turn the mess I saw into the sexpot she was supposed to be. *********************************************** *********************************************** "I'm gonna need to get some new clothes," I remarked as I stood in front of my closet, running my hands along my attire and the curves they accentuated. "God, that's gonna suck." Fortunately, that awful event was not going to occur immediately. For the moment, everything looked good. After an hour or more of showering and fighting my hair, I'd gotten the mirror to once again show the gorgeous, curvy redhead that I was. I'd also dressed in the only real outfit I owned, the tiny tank top and shorts that showed a lot more than they covered which was exactly what I wanted. Unfortunately, it was also kind of in need of a wash. I wasn't sure how that worked with lingerie, though, and luckily, Deirdre had never seen me in it, so I was pushing it for one more day. That was only a stopgap, however. Soon, I was going to have to get a new wardrobe no matter how horrible that was going to be. Content with my appearance, I turned away from the mirror to glance about the room while I tried to think of if I'd forgotten anything. "I guess I can keep using that tote as a makeshift purse?" I mused as I walked over to the nightstand to grab my wallet, keys, and phone. All of that took up both of my hands, and so was pretty clearly too much to just carry around in that manner. That said, I couldn't imagine any real girl actually using the tourist-y tote as a purse outside of walking along the beach. At some point, I probably needed to just buy a real purse, but the tote would have to do for the time being. Grabbing the bag in question, I tossed my stuff inside, then once again looked around the room. As far as I could tell, there was nothing left for me to do there. That didn't mean that there was nothing else to do, though. "Ollie?! Can you give me a ride in a little bit?!" I called out as I walked out of my room and into the living area. Seated in a chair out there, my roommate turned to me and raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What happened to not needing my damn help? Can't you take care of yourself?" "Haha, okay, you got me," I replied, pushing past the jibe. "Now can you stop being a passive-aggressive little bitch and give me a ride?" "Uff, fuck no," Ollie scoffed as he turned his attention back to the TV. "Oh, come on. What do you want, an apology? Is that it?" I huffed in annoyance. A roll of my eyes followed along with a sarcastic, "Fine, I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier, you little baby. Happy?" Turning again, Ollie leveled an icy look my way. "No, you jackass," he told me followed by an immediate shift back to the TV. "But even if you weren't a jackass, I still can't give you a ride. Laura's coming over tonight, so I have to start dinner soon." "Okay, but she's not even going to notice if dinner is a little late," I tried. Without even a glance my way, Ollie shook his head. "Not happenin', bro." "Fine ... " I sighed in irritation, walking over to plop onto the couch, fish out my phone, and set up a ride. Once that was done, I dropped the device on the cushion beside me and flopped back against the backrest and glanced over at my roommate, who was quite pointedly ignoring me. I couldn't believe he was this fucking butthurt over what had happened that morning. He could be such a little? "So what, headed back to the bar, because you decided you really wanted that daterape experience you missed out on last night?" Ollie remarked, as if needing to prove just how much of a bitch he was. "No, asshole, and that wouldn't have happened last night, either" I spat dismissively. "I've got that sex date with Deirdre tonight." Apparently, Ollie didn't have a good comeback for that, because his only response was a grunted, "Whatever." "Yeah, it's gonna be awesome, a sure thing with a smoking hot chick who's super kinky," I bragged. "Probably even get to be part of a three way." "Yeah, the bad kind with some random dude that wants to stick his dick in you," Ollie shot back. "So what?!" I countered, crossing my legs. "It's still two girls and one guy!" This time, Ollie added a roll of his eyes to his weak-ass, "Whatever." As pathetic a comeback as that was, it didn't leave me with anything to retort to, so I ended up just growling and jerking my gaze away. God, how could a guy possibly be such a fucking cunt? Whatever, he was probably just jealous that I was going to get to sleep with a hottie like Deirdre while he had to slave away making dinner for his flat- chested girlfriend who probably wouldn't even end up putting out. Fucking Ollie. *********************************************** *********************************************** Chapter 21 "Okay ... everything look good?" I muttered to myself as I stopped in front of the door of Deirdre's apartment and started messing with my clothes. Given how tight a fit my current attire was, there wasn't much I could actually do to displace anything. It was all pretty much stuck in place. I fiddled with it a bit anyway, before I considered myself ready to reach up and knock on the door. From within the apartment, I heard a bright, feminine, "Coming!" a few moments before the door was pulled open to reveal the goth beauty I remembered from the sextoy shop. At first, she had a warm smile on her face but that didn't last long. When she actually saw me, her face immediately shifted to wide-eyed surprise as she stared down at my body. "Wow ... you look ... wow." "Thanks," I replied, smirking confidently at the reaction. At the same time, I took advantage of the hot chick's distraction to get a good look at her in return. I didn't end up quite as stunned as she did, but I was still very impressed by the figure she cut in the slinky, red gown with black corset that she wore. "You look incredible, too. I love the dress." "Oh, yeah, part of my 'vamp' wardrobe," Deirdre remarked as she struck a pose like some sort of femme fatale with her hips cocked to one side, chest thrust out, and lips curled in a seductive, little smile. "I skipped the fake fangs, though." "Well, if you were a vampire, I'd definitely let you suck my blood," I flirted smoothly. Giggling, the goth chick raised the eyebrow she had a piercing in. "Is that so? I'll have to keep that in mind for later," she played off my remark, before stepping back to gesture into her apartment. "But for now, please, enter into my domain ... if you dare." Joining in with a chuckle of my own, I did exactly that, stepping by my hostess with a gracious, "Thanks for having me over." "No, thank you for coming," Deirdre offered gratitude in return as she swept by me to continue on into the apartment. "I know it's a bit forward to just go straight to inviting someone over, but I find people relax more easily in private than out at some crowded restaurant." "Makes sense to me," I agreed, although I couldn't imagine a situation where I wouldn't be thrilled to have a girl invite me to her place. Certainly, I'd never encountered such a situation before, and I was pretty sure that I still hadn't. "And I appreciate?" Deirdre started to respond, but she cut herself off to snap her attention to the side and bark, "And what are you looking at, boy?" Having been focused entirely on watching the goth chick's tight, little ass sway as she walked, I was completely surprised when I jerked my head up and followed my hostess's gaze. Off to the side was the sizable kitchen area of a very nice apartment, and standing within it was what looked to be a very nice, young man. He also looked like something of a nerd, tall but bony with weak features and glasses resting on his nose. However, he was quite well-groomed, and sharply dressed in a quality set of slacks, vest, and shirt, the latter of which had its sleeves rolled up at the moment so he could cook without worry of splatter. Food seemed to be far from his mind, though, as he was busy staring at me ? at least until Deirdre's outburst snapped him from that stupor. "Nothing, mistress!" the man blurted as he jerked his eyes down in a very deferential manner. "Nothing?" Deirdre questioned with a haughty, incredulous sort of anger dripping from the word. "Do you think your mistress is a fool, boy?" Immediately, the man shook his head. "No, mistress." "And yet you stared at my guest regardless," Deirdre countered coldly. "Were you trying to make me jealous, boy, by eyeing up some other woman?" Again, there was a quickly shook head and earnest, "No, mistress." "Oh I think you were. I think you were salivating about how much nicer her tits are than mine or how much better her ass is," Deirdre simply refused to let the cook off the hook for his glance. She held him there in her hard gaze, assaulting him with her words. The man was already shaking his head again, this time so vigorously that it was as if his whole body was fearfully denying the woman's claims. It was that apparent fear that prompted me to speak up, "I'm sure he didn't mean?" "Ah ah ah," Deirdre interjected, turning to wag a finger at me. "You must never be soft on him. That would only encourage his perverted nature. Isn't that right, boy?" "Yes, mistress," the man was quick to agree. As that happened, Deirdre leaned over to whisper to me. "I know it seems harsh, but trust me. He's loving this." "He is?" I asked uncertainly, eyeing the guy who seemed to be quivering in fear. Except, on closer inspection, I noticed that his face was different. There was no sign of worry or terror, just some very flushed cheeks that could only be embarrassment, excitement, or both. "Now, apologize, boy," Deirdre commanded, reverting back to her imperious attitude. "Forgive me, mistress. It won't happen again," the man did as he was told, bowing his head even deeper. "To both of us!" Deirdre growled impatiently. Instantly, the man twisted to face me to add, "Forgive me, honored guest. I should never have offended you with my repulsive gaze." This wasn't my first experience with this sort of thing, but it was a far more ... involved version than any I'd encountered. The extent of my exposure was being with a girl that liked to be insulted or spanked or taken 'against her will'. I knew that there were people that took it a lot further, but I'd never found myself face to face with someone's 'servant', and I wasn't entirely sure what I was supposed to do about it. Should I accept the apology? Play along? I guessed the latter, but the idea of belittling this guy to help him get off was peculiar enough that I lost a moment just trying to guess what that might entail. With me silent. Deirdre jumped back in to bark, "Now get back to work!" sending the young man scurrying back to his cooking. Meanwhile, she turned back to me, gesturing toward the living area. "Anyway, why don't you take a seat and make yourself comfortable." "Uhm ... alright," I agreed, moving a bit hesitantly over to take a seat in a chair. As I sat, I glanced over at the kitchen with a bit of worry before turning back to my hostess. "You're not going to start calling me 'girl' and barking orders are you?" Slipping into the chair opposite mine, Deirdre giggled and shook her head. "No, not unless you want me to, that is," she assured me. "That's my boyfriend, Kevin, by the way." "Ah," I acknowledged, looking over at the kitchen again. This time, it wasn't worry, but a curiosity about what would make a guy enjoy getting bossed around and ridiculed by a woman. I supposed, though, that if the girl was as hot as Deirdre, I'd have been just as willing ? at least for a little while ? especially if I was the nerdy type like this guy was. "Does he always play servant to you?" "Oh, no, mostly just on ... nights like tonight," my hostess explained before her lips twisted wickedly. "Although, when I really want him to do something, I sometimes flip on mistress-mode to get my way. Oh, and speaking of something he needs to be doing ..." Turning to the kitchen, she demanded, "Where is our wine, boy?!" "Coming mistress!" came Kevin's obeisance as he scurried about to do as he'd been told. "Oh, do you prefer red or white?" Deirdre asked, turning back to me. "Uhm ... I'm really more of a liquor gu?," I began only to wince when I got the gender wrong. "Ahem ... liquor girl, but I'll drink red." My hostess raised that pierced eyebrow at that answer. "Really? Sorry, Kevin and I both love wine, so we have so much in the house that I just assumed we'd have something you'd like." "It's alright. Like I said, I'll drink red," I told her, trying to be accomodating. "It's just not my favorite." "Are you sure?" Deirdre asked. "I could have Kevin run out and get you something else." "Uhm ..." I stalled for a moment. The idea of having some guy run out to get me booze felt a little weird, but I supposed it was no different than any other free drink. Plus, I definitely wanted something a little stronger than wine. "... okay. If it's not too much trouble." "No trouble at all," Deirdre assured me before turning to shout, "This is all your fault, boy! You forgot to check my guest's drink preferences! Now, I sit here the fool, for having nothing but wine when she doesn't like it!" The expected, "Forgive me, mistress!" from Kevin was quite prompt, but his girlfriend still berated him a bit more before finally sending him out to fetch what I wanted. I didn't have to wait long before he eagerly returned to even more insults from Deirdre. It was bizarre to me, but whatever. He seemed to be enjoying himself, and at least, I had that stronger drink. *********************************************** *********************************************** "Rhinoceros?" I repeated back, brow furrowing slightly. "Yep," Deirdre confirmed. "If you're not comfortable with something that's happening, all you have to do is say, 'Rhinoceros' and I'll stop." That answer had my eyes narrowing suspiciously. "What exactly are you planning to do to me that I'm gonna need a special word to stop it?" Laughing lightly, my hostess waved her hands back and forth in front of her. "Oh, no, you don't need to worry. You're not the first newbie I've introduced to this stuff. I'm pretty good at sensing when I'm approaching someone's limits. This is really a just in case sort of thing." "Ah ... okay," I agreed, relaxing some ? but certainly not all the way. After all, this was definitely a lot deeper into this sort of ... preference than I'd ever gotten before, so I wasn't sure what exactly to expect. My mind ran wild anywhere from something pretty mundane like getting tied to the bed to something crazy like being chained up and whipped. A silly word didn't seem like great protection against that, but I was willing to give it a try. I did have one other worry, though. "And what about your boyfriend? Where does he fit into all of this." "Oh, you won't have to worry about him," Deirdre answered with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I realize you're into girls, so he's mostly going to just be watching." "Watching?" I parroted, a little surprised ? not really, though. I'd certainly be glad to watch two girls as hot as Deirdre and me go at one another. Of course, I'd be even more glad to join in, and I was pretty sure Kevin felt the same way, no matter how whipped he was. "Yeah, at least to start anyway," Deirdre explained, always seeming very casual about the whole thing. "I may work him in as we go, we'll see, but he's always been really into watching me with other girls, so if we stick to just the two of us, it won't be a problem." Honestly, I wasn't sure if that made it better or worse. The idea of some guy just watching in the shadows as he jerked off was pretty creepy. It was already plenty creepy having one just stand off to the side of the room waiting for his girlfriend's orders like he was doing at that moment. That said, I supposed that I'd forget about him pretty quickly with Deirdre there to distract me. It would be a lot harder to ignore him if he was ... Crossing my legs, I nodded and forced myself to smile. "Okay, I think I've got everything, but I could use one more drink before we get started." "Of course," Deirdre agreed readily, gesturing toward her boyfriend. "My guest is thirsty, boy. Fill her glass." "Right away, mistress," Kevin responded, promptly scurrying forward to refill my glass before falling back to the side of the room. As soon as the guy was out of my way, I snatched up that drink and tossed it back, feeling it burn its way down my throat. It barely had time to finish before I forced out a slightly hoarse, "Alright, let's do this." "Right this way," Deirdre replied as she gracefully rose from her seat to seductively sway her past me. As the woman moved by, I shoved myself up and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand before falling into step behind her. Her boyfriend then dropped into my wake, a fact I tried to ignore. The easiest way to do that was just focus on the hypnotic sway of the goth chick's hips while imagining what it was going to be like to finally get my hands on her curves. My imagination proved very distracting. "Here we are," Deirdre declared not long after as she gestured through a doorway. Stepping through, I found ... a bedroom. A rather mundane looking one with the usual bed, dresser, closet, and so on. The only really noteworthy thing was that the bed which gave the room it's name had clearly been prepared for the evening with sheets made of what looked to be red silk and no covers or blankets around to get in the way. "Huh ..." I mumbled, both a little relieved and vaguely disappointed. "What? Did you expect me to have a dungeon or something?" Deirdre asked with obvious amusement as she slipped into the room as well. "Well ... kinda I?" I started to say as I turned toward my hostess, but that was all the further I got. After that, my lips were too busy for words. The very moment I turned toward her, Deirdre slammed against me like a wild bitch in heat. Lips, boobs, hips, all were crushed against my counterparts with a passion that bordered on hatred. The way her hands pawed at me added to the feral, attack-like nature of the whole thing to the point where, in my surprise, I actually tried to take a step backward in retreat. As my mouth broke away from the goth chick's, she immediately used it for something else, sneering out a domineering, "Oh, no no no, you're not getting away from me, you fucking slut." It was such a sudden shift from the bright, pleasant hostess that I'd engaged with all evening that I blurted, "What are you? ah!" Mid question, Deirdre's hands lashed out, catching my shoulders and driving me backward. She wasn't a big girl, but neither was I. In fact, she seemed to be stronger than me, and she was certainly taller. Combined with my surprise, I could do nothing to stop her. All I could do was stumble back until my legs hit the edge of the bed. Then, I fell over backward. For a moment, the goth chick stood over me, her features regal and imperious yet twisted and cruel. Then, she fell on me like a swooping bird of prey, her hands serving as talons, and my tits as her prey. She didn't just catch them either, she dug her hands in hard and deep enough that it didn't just make me wince. It pulled a surprised gasp of pain from my lips and sent my hands flying up to try to defend myself. With her weight bearing down on me, though, all I could do was clutch ineffectually at her wrists with no hope of fighting her off. "You thought you could come into my home and parade around these giant slut tits of yours and then just slip away?" Deirdre questioned mockingly. "You stupid thing. You should have spent more time developing your brains rather than your boobs." "Fuck you!" I growled as I renewed my efforts to force the woman off of me. My arms weren't enough, and my position was terrible, but I tried anyway, thrashing about with my whole body to try to break free. It mostly just made the goth chick's grip on my tits hurt more, but it did make her fight to keep me pinned. "Feisty aren't you?" Deirdre purred, seeming more delighted with my struggle than concerned by it. That all changed a moment later when she coldly pronounced, "Boy, hold her down." "Yes mistress," came the same automatic response I had heard countless times throughout the evening. This time, though, it wasn't a preamble to a drink refill or a new course for dinner. This time, when Kevin approached, he climbed up onto the bed above my head and grabbed my wrists. I tried to fight against that, to keep my hands tucked close to me where I could use them to protect myself, but for as much of a wimp as he appeared, the boyfriend was so much stronger than me. Stronger than his girlfriend, too. My struggle was brief before he had my hands yanked up over my head and pinned there, where they would be able to do nothing to help me. "Ah, much better," the goth chick breathed as her lips curled wickedly. "Now, let's see what you have to offer, not that you were hiding much with this trashy outfit." Pointlessly, I tried to twist and squirm, but I couldn't break free nor could I evade Deirdre's hands. They pulled my top up to my neck. They tugged on my bra. They even eventually worked their way around behind me to unhook the thing before finally shoving it out of the way as well. Without the support, my tits were left to pool on my chest, but not for long. The woman attacked them, not just with her hands but her mouth as well, kneading the mounds of soft flesh as she sucked on and even nibbled at my nipples. In spite of my helpless predicament, I couldn't quite keep a moaned, "Ahh," from slipping from my lips at the play. That seemed to act like some sort of signal to the goth chick, because she immediately pulled away, leaving my boobs, hot and aching, behind. "Like that did you?" the woman asked as she straightened up to look down at me like I was garbage. "Of course, you did you fucking slut. You'll probably like what comes next, too." "Next?" I gasped out breathlessly. "You'll see," came the vague reply as Deirdre slipped away. I tried to sit up to see where the woman was going, but the way my hands were pinned prevented that. I tried to struggle, but even without his girlfriend's there to help hold me down, Kevin kept me in place. The best I could do was tilt my head up, straining my neck to catch glimpses of the goth chick. First, she stripped off her corset and dress, revealing her own pale impressive rack. It wasn't as big as mine, and clearly fake with its too round, too perky shape but it still looked great. The rest of her slim figure was spectacular too, and there was nothing under the dress to hide any of it, but that didn't remain true. I saw her grab something and slip it on, something that looked vaguely like underwear except not quite. It didn't cover her ass for one thing, having nothing but straps in the back to hold it in place. Trying to figure out what was happening took a back seat to other concerns the moment Deirdre turned around, because of one simple thing. She had a cock. Wait, no, it was black, just like the thing she'd just put on and had a rubbery quality to it that was definitely not the real thing. It had to be some sort of strap on ? a huge one. "Yes, this should do nicely for pounding at that gaping, whore pussy of yours," the goth chick remarked as she started back toward me. Her massive fake cock flopped around while her lips were curled in wicked delight and anticipation. At first, all I could do was stare, completely stunned ? until the woman took her first step toward me. Then, my body broke into motion, starting with a rapid shake of my head that spread outward into ever greater effort. I struggled against the hands holding me with renewed effort, even throwing my body into it, at least my upper body. My lower half was focused entirely on keeping my legs clamped together. "N-N-No, i-it's t-too?" I tried to protest, shaking garbling my already pathetically weak-sounding voice with a stutter. "Too what? Too big for a gaping slut like you? I doubt that," Deirdre kept right on her path to a very obvious conclusion. She even reached me, grabbing my knees with her hands and commanding, "Now open up like I know you want to, bitch." Why was this happening? How could I stop it? Break free? My fucking girly arms were too weak. Block access? Eventually, Deirdre would find a way to spread my legs, I just knew it. I had to do something, though. I couldn't ... not again. There just had to be a way, something I could do to stop the hands that were even then trying to pry my knees apart. I just had to? "Rhinoceros!" the word erupted out of me like a desperate plea to God, himself, to save me. Suddenly, the illusion of the moment shattered. A surprised Deirdre released my legs and stepped back. The hands that had been pinning my arms released me. I was free and unthreatened. "I'm sorry," was the very first thing said, an apology from my hostess for what she clearly saw as a failure on her part. "I didn't ... you seemed to be enjoying it, so I thought ..." *********************************************** *********************************************** "What was I fucking thinking?" I hissed in frustration for the countless time as I got out of the elevator and started toward my apartment. "I should have just asked her to use a smaller one." Obviously, that was what I should have done. For all of the playacting, there had been no real danger of anything happening to me that I didn't want. It had all just been a ploy to spice up everyone's time. If I had just explained what my problem was, Deirdre and Kevin would undoubtedly have understood and accommodated me, but I hadn't been able to do that. In the moment, when faced with their confusion, I'd just run away like ... like ... "Like a scared little girl," I cursed myself, glaring down at the massive tits and slim limbs of my current body. No, it was just my body, now and for the rest of my life. I was a weak, pathetic girl who was scared of dicks and had no way to defend herself beyond silly words and the hope that people would listen to them. Rage boiled my blood at the thought. My jaw and fists clenched as well. However, it was the companion burning in my eyes, the blurring that followed soon after it, and the trickle of something warm and wet spilling onto my cheeks that drove my fury to truly great heights. "Great, I'm fucking crying again," I snarled as I swiped at the liquid to try to clear it away, but it wouldn't be so easily thwarted. Throughout my walk to my door, my fight with the lock to open it, and my first step inside, more tears just kept on forming to replace those I swiped off my face. In fact, unwanted spillage continued all the way to the short hallway just outside of my room when I heard a woman's voice squeak out a surprised, "Ah!" For the first time since I'd run away from Deirdre's place, my attention shifted to something else. My head jerked up to rest my eyes on the source of that sound, not just a woman, but a familiar one. It was Ollie's new girlfriend wearing nothing but what looked to be one of his t-shirts given how it draped over her like a baggy but very short dress. "Oh, sorry, you startled me there for a second," Laura was quick to apologize for her outburst while I was still processing her presence. "When Ollie said his roommate had a date, I thought that meant we were going to have the place to ourselves all night, not that he might bring you back here," she prattled on casually for a couple seconds until something changed. Worry invaded her features as she leaned in to look at me more closely. "What's wrong?" Suddenly, my mind wasn't trying to deal with my roommate's girlfriend. It was busy trying to deal with the fact that I had just been caught red-faced and tear-stained. Even worse, the person that had caught me wanted to know why. I didn't even know why! Jerking my head down to hide my face, I hurried to cover the last couple steps to my door while stammering, "N-Nothing, I'm fine." "Are you ??" the woman started to ask, undoubtedly trying to be helpful. Slipping into my room, I slammed the door closed behind me. That put an immediate end to the situation, but the embarrassment of it couldn't be so easily dismissed. It made my face burn as I clawed at my scalp in frustration. "Agh! As if tonight needed to get any worse!" I growled as I trudged over to my bed and threw myself on top of it. Even that was wrong, because I couldn't just plunge in face first. No, I had to twist as I fell so that I landed on my side, lest my fucking massive girl tits complain about being squashed. To top it all off, despite the rage and embarrassment they caused, I could feel the tears still falling. The comfort of my bed beneath me didn't stop them. The solitude of my room didn't stop them. Digging the heels of my hands into my eyes didn't stop them. After all, none of those things could allow me to escape the pathetic ruin that my life had become, all because I had stolen a pill. "What was I fucking thinking?" I hissed one last time as I curled up on my bed as tightly as I could and just endured the tears until they finally ran out. *********************************************** *********************************************** Chapter 22 "Shut up," I grumbled as I tightened my arms around my stomach to try to get it to stop whining for food. It did quiet down for a bit, but I knew the noise would return soon enough. It had several times already. Obviously, the easiest solution would have been to just get up, go into the kitchen, and find something to eat, but I didn't want to do that. I didn't want to get up at all. I didn't want to be awake. I certainly didn't want to be a fucking girl. What I wanted didn't matter at the moment. I was a girl as I would be from now on. I had the massive tits and tight pussy to prove it. At that moment, it was hard to say which was more infuriating. The tits were heavy, got in the way, and were currently sore from spending the night in a bra. Meanwhile, the pussy had made me run out on what would undoubtedly have been incredible sex with a kinky sexpot. Yeah, that one was the worse of the two. "But you're definitely getting up there," I growled as my stomach started gurgling again, earning it a swat from one tiny, girly fist. Again, it fell silent, but it would return. Sighing, I rolled from my side to my back. That didn't really accomplish anything. I'd tried both positions several times, but neither drove my hunger away nor brought sleep back to take this nightmare away from me. All it ever accomplished was to make it so I stared at the ceiling rather than the wall. What else was there to do, though, besides continuing to lie there and pray for some sort of escape? Work out? In this body? Ha! All that would do was add physical pain to the nightmare. Go out? To what end? If even sex with Deirdre ended in disaster what hope did I have with someone else? I certainly wasn't going to let some guy anywhere near me ? not after all the catastrophic failures that had spawned. Getting splooged in the face, pinned as easily as a child, and ri? well, none of it had been anywhere close to fun. What had been fun was the old way, where I picked up some girl in a bar, took her home, and rocked her world. Fuck, what I wouldn't give to have little Billy back and have him balls deep in some chick at that very moment. "Alright! I'll feed you!" I huffed as my stomach yet again grumbled, this time in tandem to a painful twisting that was just more than I was willing to suffer. With a few irate shoves, I got myself to sitting on the edge of the bed, but that was as far as my frustration carried me. Instead, I held there for a moment, looking down at the floor that my feet didn't quite reach. They used to back when I was five-eleven, but now that I was ... "I still haven't figured out how short I even am, now," I muttered, shoulders slumping. At a cerebral level, I knew that I wasn't actually all that short. I wasn't sure but I guessed the difference was in the three to five inch range. That put me pretty close to average for a girl, maybe a bit above, just like I'd been as a guy. Except, I felt short ? really short. I remembered how Tyler had loomed over me, and even girls like Deirdre had been taller than me ? stronger too. Outside of my tits and ass, I was just this pathetic, little thing in a world that suddenly seemed very big indeed ? and dangerous. Tyler hadn't listened to me. Ollie thought some guy tried to drug me. Even if that was just paranoia, I was a girl now. That meant people might do stuff like that to me. That meant I could get pregnant, too, right? All the more reason to stay far away from dicks. Another growl from my stomach earned a huff of, "Alright, I'm going!" as I finally shoved myself to my feet and started toward the kitchen. I only made it to the living room, though, before I lurched to a surprised stop. Not having noticed any sounds from my room, I'd expected the apartment to be empty, but it wasn't. No, Ollie was out there, sitting on the couch with his phone in hand. Given the smile on his face as he rapidly tapped at the screen, I imagined he was probably embroiled in a conversation with his girlfriend. If I was quiet, I could? Just as I started to turn, Ollie finished typing and stood up. The next logical step was to turn my way, so of course he did, spotting me before I could make my escape. The smile vanished from his face even as a wince rippled across mine, but there was no avoiding the fact that we had spotted one another. "Oh, hey ..." my friend greeted, but not with a friendly warmth or a casual nonchalance. No, it was hesitant and heavy, the sort of tone that broadcast discomfort. Well, I wasn't too comfortable with the situation either, so my response was a pretty similar, "Hey ..." "How??" Ollie began to ask a question I knew I didn't want to answer, but thankfully, ended up cutting himself off. Seeing an opportunity, I leap into the gap to turn the conversation away from me. "So, looks like someone got lucky last night," I remarked as I started toward the kitchen, looking to get my food and get back to my room before the distraction ran out. "Unless, you're the first man ever to be such a pussy that his girlfriend wore one of his shirts just to cuddle." The jibe managed to get a chuckle out of my roommate. "Well, there was some cuddling, but it wasn't until after our second go around." "Wow ... twice?" I replied with feigned respect only to snipe, "It's rare for an actress to be so dedicated to selling a fantasy." "Ha!" the word burst out of Ollie with genuine mirth as he walked over to lean against the kitchen counter. "That was a good one." "Thanks," I chirped gratefully while filling a bowl with cereal. "And I'm glad your date went well, by the way." "Much appreciated," Ollie answered with a nod, but that was all he said. After it, he fell silent, staring at me. Turning away, I went to get milk from the refrigerator while I tried to think of what to say next. There was a definite lull starting to grow in the conversation, a lull that I clearly needed to fill. If I didn't ? "But your date didn't," Ollie stated. "Unless you've taken up a habit of coming home in tears of celebration." Those words froze me in place as effectively as a trap catches an animal. Just like an animal, I made a futile attempt to slip free. "I wasn't?" "I don't think Laura would lie about stumbling onto my 'roommate's girlfriend' crying," my friend cut me off before I could even finish the pointless lie. "I corrected her misconception, by the way." Latching onto that last bit, I turned around to furrow my brow at my roommate. "You told your girlfriend that you share an apartment with this?" I gestured down at my outstanding curves nestled in the scanty outfit from the night before. "That was dumb." "No, dumb would be trying to lie about it. After all, it's not like you're going to?" Ollie stopped just before he could say the most damning part, but he needn't have bothered. I knew exactly what was going to follow. I tried to spin back around to hide the wince that fact caused, but there was no way I was fast enough. Still, I occupied myself by yanking open the fridge and snatching the milk from within. "And what did she do, break up with you? Demand I move out?" "Actually, she thanked me for my honesty, then we talked about it for a bit until she was comfortable with the arrangement, because we're adults, not petty, insecure teenagers," Ollie corrected. "But enough about that. What??" "There's nothing to say," I interjected, forcing a smile onto my face before I turned around and walked over to where I'd left my bowl. "She was just a little too kinky for me." Clearly able to tell I was lying, Ollie narrowed his eyes. "Really? That's why you were ... y'know?" "Girls do that over all sorts of stupid shit. See a puppy? Tears. Hold a baby? Tears. Find out there was no milk left in the house? Tears," I explained, affecting a nonchalant shrug. "It's meaningless." "Really? Over there being no milk?" Ollie questioned with obvious doubt. "What? You've never heard of crying over spilled milk?" I shot back as I poured milk into my bowl. "Besides, are you saying you wouldn't cry over losing out on getting to fuck a girl as hot as Deirdre?" The way my friend tilted his head made it clear that at least that final argument had some sort of merit to it even if the rest was nonsense. He clearly wasn't swayed, though. "So you're fine then?" "Yep," I assured him as I turned to put the milk away. "In fact, we parted on good terms. We may even try again sometime. Who knows?" "Okay ... good ..." Ollie relented. "Sure is," I confirmed as I spun back around to grab my finally ready breakfast. "Now, unless you're using the TV, I'm gonna pop something on and devour this cereal." "Oh, no it's, uh ... " Ollie trailed off for a moment to glance over his shoulder into the living room before turning back to me. "It's all yours." "Great," I declared with a smile before walking over to plunk down on the couch, flip on the TV and chomp down my first bite of cereal. That was all fine. Food finally put an end to my stomach's complaining, and having something to watch provided at least a minor distraction from my predicament. Unfortunately, throughout all of that, Ollie lingered by the counter, watching my every move. I couldn't ignore the feel of his eyes on me, nor the worry that the observation would lead to more questions I didn't want to answer. At least, that fear proved to be unfounded, because a few seconds after I sat down, Ollie went to his room without another word. *********************************************** *********************************************** "Yeah, Adam let me know," my boss informed me, voice full of empathy. "I'm sorry, Billy. I never should've put something like this in front of you without explaining it carefully." "Nah, it's alright. My fault for stealing, right?" I answered, trying to laugh the whole thing off. "I'll pay you back for that by the way. I got a lot of money from Mr. Cartwright, so?" "Keep it. You need it a lot more than I do," Mr. Johston cut me off. "After all, women's clothes are expensive." A weak, little chuckle slid out of me at that remark. It was obviously supposed to be light-hearted, but the idea that I was stuck shopping in the women's section for the rest of my life was just another nail in this already oppressive coffin. Women's clothes were awful, expensive, weirdly sized, and devoid of pockets for some unknown reason. Even just the couple items I'd picked up were a total hassle. Trying to find a whole wardrobe ... "Speaking of, I have quite a bit of experience in that regard, if you want some help," my boss offered. "I could even cut my trip short if?" That left it my turn to interject. "Don't. I'll be fine. I've already done it a couple of times, so I can do it a few times more." "Are you sure?" Mr. Johnston double-checked. "Women's clothing can be pretty tricky. I messed up a?" "I'll be fine," I insisted, this time much more forcefully. No matter how weak and uncomfortable this body was, it didn't mean I was helpless. I could take care of myself ? especially if my only adversary was a nonsensical fashion industry. There was a moment's pause before my boss relented. "Alright, uhm ... there are some things we need to talk about. What you want to do about work, for instance." "I ..." I began an answer only to realize I didn't really have one. Since discovering I was stuck, I'd been so busy with other things that work had never even entered my mind. " ... I hadn't thought about it." "Well, even if you're okay with people knowing who you used to be, which it would probably be best if they didn't, this would be hard to explain," Mr. Johnston reasoned. "I think it would be best if I 'fired' Billy. That way, you get a severance package to cover your expenses until I hire female you a few months later. By the way, what name are you going by now?" "Well ... I was having people call me Tiffany, but now ..." I muttered uncertainly. My boss picked up on my issue in an instant. "Yeah, I can see why you wouldn't want to go with that for the rest of your life. Hmm ... I suppose you could always just use the 'ie' spelling of your current name if you don't want a change." "And be a girl named 'Billie'?" I questioned, face twisting in disdain. "You wouldn't be the first," Mr. Johnston pointed out. "But it was just a suggestion. You can always come up with something else." "Hmm," I hummed, acknowledging that fact without really knowing what to do with it. I'd always been pretty happy with my name. Of course, my father thought I should have outgrown such a childish nickname by now and started going by William, but that had just made me like Billy more. Thoughts of my father had me looking down at myself as I sighed under my breath, "He's going to have a whole new reason to be disappointed in me now." "What was that?" my boss inquired, apparently not having quite caught what I'd just said. Jerking my gaze back up I shook my head even though no one could see it. "Nothing, just thinking." "Ah, well, no rush. It'll probably take you a while," Mr. Johnston informed me. "In fact, it took me years to finally settle on Gina." "Really?" I questioned in surprise. "Why did you pick that name anyway?" "Well, I didn't really," my boss replied. "After messing around with ... well, names like Tiffany, I'd settled on the idea of wanting something that I thought sounded more ... respectable, I guess. I also wanted there to be a bit of a connection between my two selves so I settled on using the same first letter. That got me a list of names to look over, and I was sort of leaning toward Grace. When I ran the idea by my wife, though, she shook her head, took my list, read from it for all of about two seconds then declared I was 'Gina', and so I've been ever since." A helpless, genuine laugh burst out of me at the conclusion to that tale. "You let your wife dictate the name of your female alter ego?" "Yep, and I have no regrets about it, so I don't know why you're laughing so hard," Mr. Johnston huffed, sounding a bit indignant. Reining in my mirth, I apologized. "Sorry. That doesn't really help me, though. I don't have a wife to hand a list to." "True," my boss conceded. "You've got parents, me, and that roommate of yours, though, so it's not like you have to figure it out on your own." "I'll keep that in mind," I allowed. "Good," Mr. Johnston stated. "Anyway ... I should probably let you go. Thanks for letting me know how it worked out, and if you have any questions, don't hesitate to give me a call." "Sure thing," I agreed, despite having no intent of calling for help. I could handle this on my own. "And have fun on the rest of your trip." The final words before I ended the call were my boss's reply of, "Will do." Letting out a heavy sigh, I tossed my phone onto the bed beside me and flopped onto my back. "What a nightmare," I muttered as I stared up at the ceiling. My boss had pretty much known exactly what was going on, and it had still been exhausting to talk to him. What was I going to do with other people? My coworkers? My friends? My parents? Some of them I could skip. Mr. Johnston's plans for sorting out my job seemed sound, and would spare me having to explain anything to people at work. There was no escaping the other two groups, though. Most of my friends were Ollie's friends, too, and my parents ... "Ugh ... what am I even supposed to tell them?" I groaned, rubbing at my head. No one was going to believe that there was some pill you could take to instantly turn into a girl. I certainly hadn't believed it ? not until I saw it happen. Even if I could afford the pills to show people, I doubted Mr. Cartwright would sell them to me. He seemed pretty secretive about his business. Besides, it wasn't like I could demonstrate what they did anymore anyway. No, I was gonna have to come up with something else. "Great. One more thing to do," I mumbled, shaking my head. As if dealing with clothes and having some shady lawyer erase my old life wasn't trouble enough. How was that whole thing with the lawyer supposed to work with people who used to know me anyway? Something to worry about when I talked to him, whenever that happened. "Probably not soon. I still don't even have a name yet." I pounded my head against the bed a few times in frustration. After all, this wasn't the first time a talk I'd had about my future led back to the whole name thing. It really didn't seem like much of a roadblock. I could think of thousands of names. All I needed to do was pick one. "Hell, I could just stick with Tiffany. Not like it matters," I told myself, but the sentiment led nowhere. I couldn't see myself using that name. Tiffany had been a disaster. Tiffany was how I'd gotten stuck in this mess. Tiffany was ... No, I might've been stuck as a girl, but I definitely wasn't going to spend the rest of my life as Tiffany. *********************************************** *********************************************** Chapter 23 "Why ..." I sighed out, long and heavy as I reached up to try one last time to fiddle with the buttons of the blouse I was trying on. It was a futile effort, though, leading to another, this time wordless, sigh. Having worn my one female outfit far too many times already, it had obviously been past time to buy some more clothes. The idea of actually doing so had seemed dauntingly awful, though, and the reality of it was proving to pretty much be exactly what I'd feared. Basically, I wanted to kill whoever was responsible for making women's clothes. My current problem lay with something that really shouldn't have been a problem. As a guy, I'd bought many dress shirts. In fact, I had a whole closet full of them for work. Before this mess, they had all fit perfectly. I knew guys that were really shredded or really skinny who also had no trouble finding shirts. However, apparently, no one thought that a skinny girl with huge boobs might have a respectable job ? or at least they never thought to make clothes for it. The proof lay in the mirror before me where the buttons of the blouse were done up nice and neat ? but only half way. The moment I got to my tits, it became impossible to even get the buttons to reach their corresponding holes, much less fasten them. As such, from sternum up, nothing was buttoned, leaving an amount of cleavage on display that was even more extreme than the slutty tank top that I'd bought for barhopping. "It's already baggy down here, too," I muttered as I tugged at the area where the buttons were done up. There were already a few inches of wasted fabric down there which pooled into unflattering folds. If I went up enough sizes to actually accomodate my boobs, those folds went from merely unflattering to making me look kinda fat. At the very least, they obscured the idea that I even had a waist, making me appear like I was just a box with tits. Sneering in disgust, I started undoing the buttons of this blouse so I could toss it onto the pile of rejects. It was already stacked up pretty high with numerous different brands, styles, and sizes. All either looked terrible or didn't fit. It did make me wonder, though, where porno's got their slutty teacher and secretary outfits from. Those girls often had tits like mine, fake ones sure, but that didn't change how much space they took up. They'd undoubtedly know. "But I don't fucking know any to ask," I cursed. While I did know several girls with fake tits, none of them were porn or stripper sized. Most girls stopped somewhere in the above average to kinda big range. Deirdre was probably the biggest, and she was still a lot smaller than I was. "Maybe I could go to a strip club and get one to tell me during a lap dance?" I reasoned only to quickly shake my head. I was trying to find something respectable to wear, not more stripper clothes. Those were comparatively easy to find. In fact, there was already a plethora of stretchy t-shirts and tank tops that could accommodate my curves stacked up in the changing room with me. They tended to show a lot of cleavage and often didn't fully cover my waist, but that wasn't a problem for casual wear. After all, one of the only upsides to being stuck as a girl was that I was an absolute fucking bombshell. I certainly didn't want to hide that fact. My eyes narrowed into a glare directed at the giant mess that collected on the bench near me, both rejects and sort of tolerables. "You know what? Fuck it. I'm not gonna give these fuckers any of my money. I'll just wear my guy stuff for now, it's basically as good as any of this shit," I finally spat in disdain as I pulled back on the boy's t-shirt I'd worn into the store. "Can't even fucking carry something that fits me," I muttered before I snatched up my totebag-turned-pursed and spun to march out of first the dressing room then the store entirely. There just had to be a better way. "Maybe there's some place online that specializes in clothes for women with big boobs?" Stopping outside of the store, I pulled out my phone and quickly searched for exactly that. Sure enough, several websites popped up claiming to carry sizes meant to resolve the very issues I'd just endured. "Mmm, not the sexiest stuff," I critiqued as I swiped through a few pages of what these specialities sites had available. "Whatever. At least it will fucking fit." With that settled, I dropped my phone back into my bag and looked around. I knew there was a lingerie store around here? "Ah, there it is," I remarked before starting off toward the shop in question. It was the same place I'd gone for my first bra and thong, so at least with them, I knew they'd have stuff in my size. *********************************************** *********************************************** "Hmm ... only up to two sizes up?" I mused as I eyed the site's fitting tips. It was bad enough that they used the weird female dress size thing rather than the small, medium, and large scale that I was used to, but they all had a second metric about how 'curvy' the fit was. After some extra effort, I'd been able to sort all of that out, but there was one problem remaining ? well two of them which I was currently frowning down at. "But I need more than that to fit these things." Lips twisting dubiously, I tried to think of a solution. Of course, there was always the option of trying another site, but this one had the clothes I liked the best. Also, most of the other places I'd looked at had similar limitations. Even at a specialty store, stuff was meant for girls that were either fatter than me or had smaller boobs. "Well, I guess a little loose won't be too bad ..." I mused as I pressed a hand to my stomach. Tight clothes weren't the most comfortable anyway, and at least for work stuff, I was looking for something more professional. For casual stuff, I could probably get things fitted to my waist and count on the material to be stretchy enough to handle my tits. "Means I need to keep track of two different sizes." "Two different sizes of what?" Ollie's voice cut through my thoughts. "Clothes," I answered as I looked up from my phone to point toward the bag on the coffee table in front of me. "I got underwear while I was out, but now I need stuff to wear over it." "Ah ... and you need two different sizes for that because ...?" my roommate inquired as he walked over to drop into the nearest chair. "Because my tits are fucking huge," I answered bluntly, tossing an irritated look down at the things. "And apparently no one wants to make stuff to fit them." Lips curling into a smirk, Ollie quipped, "Well, can you blame then? Who wants those things covered up?" "Me!" I declared even as the joke pulled a laugh out of me. "I think I've got it mostly figured out, though." "You sure? You could probably make a lot of money as a stripper, and you don't need much in the way of clothes for that," Ollie pointed out. "Probably?" I questioned as if insulted. "Alright, definitely," Ollie corrected himself with a chuckle. I shrugged nonchalantly. "Obviously, but I'd never work at a strip club. I'd just get on one of those webcam sites or something. That way I wouldn't have to see the losers drooling over me or pick their sticky money up off a stage." Suddenly, my friend seemed to lose faith in the joke, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "You're not gonna do that, are you?" "Fuck no," I denied emphatically. "I like my job, and I don't want a bunch of weirdos creeping on me all the time. Maybe I'd do some legit modelling if someone offered me a gig, but I don't really have the look of a 'legit' model." "Yeah, not even lingerie models tend to be that ... well-endowed," Ollie commented. "Yep," I agreed before segueing, "Anyway ... did you need something or were you just eavesdropping on me?" Ollie raised an eyebrow at that accusation. "Is it really eavesdropping when you come across someone mumbling to themselves in a communal space?" "Doesn't mean it was any of your fucking business, asshole," I retorted sharply. After a moment's consideration, Ollie shrugged. "True enough, I guess, but I did actually come in here for a reason. Dan just texted me to say he's got his company's season seats again for Tuesday's game. You wanna go?" My very first instinct was to say yes. The word nearly even slipped out without a second thought, but then my brain caught up, and suddenly there wasn't just a second thought but a third, fourth, and more. How was I supposed to explain my presence? It wasn't like it was a one time thing with people I'd never meet again. If it had been, I could've just lied. I knew Dan fairly well, though. He wasn't a close friend, but we hung out on a semi-regular basis. A throwaway lie wouldn't work and something more complicated or the truth was ... "I'll tell him you've got a date on Tuesday," Ollie announced out of nowhere. "What? I don't?" I started to argue, but then my gaze landed on Ollie's, and it seemed to cut right through me. Immediately, I looked away. "Yeah, uhm ... thanks." "No problem," my friend answered as he shoved himself up back to his feet. "Probably for the best pushing off the 'first encounter' anyway. It'll make it more believable." I let out a heavy sigh. "You think anyone's ever gonna believe this shit?" "Sure," Ollie told me. "I mean, obviously, they'll think it's a prank at first, but you've got me and your boss to corroborate your story, and reality to wear them down. It might take a bit, but eventually they'll have to accept it." "Yeah ... " I mumbled, having to admit my friend was right. Regardless of how much I wished they would, things weren't going to change back, and eventually, people would have to accept that just like I had to. That didn't make me any more eager to try to explain it, though. It was hard enough just dealing with clothes at the moment. *********************************************** *********************************************** "Fuck! How am I supposed to walk in this fucking thing?!" I growled as I tried to move around my bedroom. Technically, I could move. It just wasn't very well. The skirt I wore saw to that. It was tight, narrow, and reached just past my knees. That configuration restricted my mobility considerably. At best, it allowed me to separate my knees by about six inches, restricting me to these tiny, mincing steps that were just ridiculous. It would take me three times as long to get anywhere like that. It even made things like turning difficult, and if I tried to bend over to pick something up, I had no doubt that I'd end up toppling over entirely. "I don't know, but other girls manage somehow," I heard Ollie remark from behind me. Instantly, I whipped about ? too instantly actually. My upper body ended up getting ahead of my legs, and the next thing I knew, I was stumbling forward, trying to correct my balance. It should have been easy to do, except the skirt thwarted me yet again, snagging my legs as I tried to drive them back under me. "Fucking?" I had just enough time to start a curse before I went from stumbling to falling with a startled and furious, "Ah!" It wasn't a bad fall. My legs just sort of folded under me, dropping me pretty smoothly to my knees, and my hands managed to catch my upper body as red hair spilled down into my face. While jarring, the only thing I actually hurt was my pride, especially with what came next. Ollie's laughter filled the room as he asked, "You alright?" in the most enraging way possibly. "Yes!" I snarled as I tried to jerk my head up to glare at my roommate, but I ended up just glaring at a curtain of hair until I got a hand up to swipe it out of the way With my vision clear, I could see Ollie standing in the doorway to my room, arms folded smugly and a shit-eating grin on his face as he continued to chuckle at me. Growling, I cast him from my thoughts, and shoved myself to my feet. At least, I tried to. I barely got my knees off the ground before that fucking skirt got in the way again, dropping me right back to my hands and knees. A renewed fit of laughter burst out of Ollie at the sight as he squeezed out, "Need some help?" "No, you fucking asshole!" I sneered as I tried again, this time moving very carefully to make sure that the skirt would not thwart me again. It was incredibly awkward and painfully sluggish, but I did manage to get to my feet where I swiped my hair back and once again glared at my still snickering roommate. "Ever heard of fucking knocking?!" "I have, but it's usually done when the door is closed, and this ..." Ollie answered smoothly as I reached over to tap the door to my room. "Was wide open." My teeth ground together at that remark. "Well that's still not an invitation, fuckface!" That accusation had Ollie rolling his eyes. "Yeah, because I never could've seen you make a fool of yourself from one step further back." "Argh!" I roared in frustration, but not really at my roommate. No, I saved my ire for the garment responsible for the whole thing, glaring down at the black tube that encased my legs. "Stupid fucking skirt!" My rage garnered more snickering from Ollie, but also a question, "Why are you wearing that thing, anyway? Hell, where did you even get it?" Shoulders slumping, I let out a heavy sigh. "I bought it." "On purpose?" Ollie asked with genuine surprise. "Yes, on fucking purpose!" I growled, gesturing down at the garment. "What did you think I mistook this for pants?! More laughter answered me as Ollie shrugged. "I don't know. Seems as likely as you buying a skirt. Why would you do that?" "Because I need some new fucking clothes for work and this looks way hotter than pants," I muttered, smacking a frustrated hand against the garment. "I didn't know it was gonna fucking cripple me." "You've been doing an awful lot of moving around for someone who's crippled," Ollie pointed out obnoxiously. Rolling my eyes, I let out an exasperated huff. "Yeah, waddling around like a toddler. That's not the image I want to project." "Didn't look that bad to me," Ollie remarked. "Are you kidding me?" I demanded incredulously as I moved one foot as far forward as the skirt would allow it to get without moving the other ? which wasn't far at all. "This is the biggest step I can take." Ollie shrugged. "Girls take smaller steps. You wouldn't want one to trudge along like a guy would you?" Leaning back in surprise, I furrowed my brow. "Uhm ... I guess not. This is a little ridiculous, though, isn't it?" Again, my roommate shrugged. "Well, to paraphrase what I said earlier, I've seen plenty of other girls wear skirts like that, and they never look weird in them. Actually, most look pretty fucking hot ? at least the ones hot enough to pull it off." "Yeah ..." I conceded, dropping my gaze to the skirt one more time. Much like my friend, I'd seen other girls wear similar things and look hot doing it. That was why I'd decided to try the damn thing in the first place, and I did look good in it ? great actually. Was it worth the hassle, though? "Well, I only bought the one, so I guess I can just keep it and see if I can figure it out." Ollie nodded along with that answer. "Makes sense. That all you buy or am I gonna get to see you trip over yourself in heels, too?" "No, asshole, I didn't buy any heels," I tossed back bitingly. "This was the only real experiment, everything else I got just to test out fit. Like this blouse." "Ah," Ollie acknowledged as he swept a critical eye over the new garment ? or maybe just took the opportunity to stare at my tits. Either way, he ended up saying. "Seems like a good fit." "Yeah, for the most part," I agreed as I, too, shifted my attention to my blouse. It wasn't anything all that special, short-sleeved, creamed- colored, and fastened with buttons that were on the wrong side for some fucking reason. "It's still a little loose around my waist, and it took a bit of work to get it buttoned over my tits." "Well, it looks great, so I wouldn't worry about it," Ollie told me. Suddenly, my brow furrowed. It wasn't that I doubted what my roommate had said. On the contrary, I'd mostly come to the same conclusion. There was just something about it that felt weird. Maybe, I'd heard it somewhere. Maybe, it was just that I'd never spent this much time talking about clothes before. The most I'd ever done was get a second opinion on a look before a date. "Anyway, I'll let you get back to what you were doing," Ollie declared as he reached for the door. "And unlike you, I'll make sure to close the door, so you won't have to worry about your roommate walking by and seeing you in the middle of something embarrassing." "Just get out," I snapped. Grinning, Ollie offered a final, obnoxious, "Gladly," before the door slid closed behind him. Sighing, I muttered, "Asshole," before I shoved my dickbag roommate from my thoughts. After all, I had a fucking ridiculous skirt to figure out. *********************************************** *********************************************** Looking up at me, Ollie blinked in confusion. "What?" "I want to go out, y'know to a place that isn't this apartment?" I reiterated as I gestured back toward the kitchen and the way out. "I've been cooped up in here with nothing but clothes to worry about for days, and I finally have that all sorted out, so I wanna get out of here. See look?" As I spoke, I stepped around in front of my friend to wave a hand down at my clothes. "Just one of many brand new outfits available for my leaving the apartment pleasure." "I see ..." Ollie mumbled, and he certainly did. In fact, he took a good long look to make sure he saw everything there was to see. It wasn't anything all that impressive; just a pair of jean shorts that I could just barely squeeze my ass into and a pale, purple t-shirt whose snug fabric and scooped neck really showed off my massive tits. I had a feeling, though, he was less interested in the clothes than what they covered, even if he did say, "Looks good." I certainly would've been in his place. "Of course, it does!" I declared confidently. "I always was the stylish one." A snicker slipped out of my friend's lips as he answered, "Right ..." Instantly, my eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?" "Nothing," Ollie was quick to say, feigning innocence. "I'm just a little surprised to see you have everything together so quickly. The other day, you seemed to be ... struggling." In spite of myself, I felt my cheeks heat up just a touch at the reminder of my recent ... clumsiness. Still, I brushed it off easily enough. "Yes, well, first of all, you wouldn't have done any better." "Sure, but I didn't get myself stuck as a girl either," Ollie pointed out. "And second!" I continued loudly, pointedly ignoring that remark. "That was two days ago. I've sorted it all out since then, 'cause I'm awesome, not a fucking tool like you." "Ah, so I'm a 'fucking tool' now?" my friend asked rhetorically as his lips curled into a smirk. "Pretty strange that you want to hang out with me then." "Yeah, it is. You should consider yourself very lucky," I quipped without missing a beat. "A lot of guys would kill for a chance to spend time with a hottie like me." Face twisting dubiously, Ollie tilted his head back and forth. "Mmm ...I mean maybe, but that's only 'cause they don't know how much of a stuck up bitch you are." While I would have preferred to have a comeback to sling in response to that, I just found it too funny. The moment for a good zinger was lost to me laughing at my friend's remark ? giggling really. It took me a beat to get that under control before I finally said, "Good one. Now can we go do something or what?" "Yeah, sure," Ollie agreed. "Ya got something in mind?" I shrugged. "I don't know. Movie? Food? Drinks?" "How 'bout we try for all three," my friend suggested as he shoved himself to his feet. Smiling, I nodded. "Sounds good to me." *********************************************** *********************************************** Chapter 24 While far from my first time walking around out in the city, I was still surprised by just how much attention I drew. It was really the smiles that always struck me. Men I passed weren't just glancing at someone walking by them. They focused on me, often for several seconds if they spotted me early enough to allow it. By the time I was about to go by, they were almost always smiling at me, some even nodded or waved as if greeting me, despite us being complete strangers that would never so much as exchange a word as we passed each other. Women tended to give me a lot of attention as well, but it was a different kind. As a guy, I'd been able to toss a flirty smile at a cute girl as I passed and maybe get a smile back. Pretty much no women smiled at me now, though. Most tended to just be surprised, but I got a lot of sour looks, too, especially if the woman in question was with a man at the time. Others had expressions on their faces that I didn't really understand. I'd seen similar in the past, but only in passing and never directed at me. Suddenly, the blare of a car horn cut through the night followed by the sound of some random guy shouting out, "Hey! Nice cans!" A moment later, both the man and his vehicle were gone, disappearing somewhere down the road too quickly for me to really react. All I'd been able to do was jerk my attention up in time to see that the guy shouting had been doing so at me. "Uck, what the fuck is that guy thinking?" Ollie hacked in disgust. "That you're gonna be happy some guy hung out of a car and yelled at you?" Turning my attention back to my friend, I shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, there's not much point in having nice cans if no one notices 'em, right?" "Seriously?" my friend questioned, screwing up his face at me. "You're actually happy some random loser yelled at you on the street?" "It's not like he just came up and started screaming at me. He called out a compliment on his way by. Why wouldn't I take it as one?" I countered. For a beat, Ollie didn't seem to know what to do with that before a helpless chuckle finally puffed out of him as he shook his head. "Wow, you may look like a girl, but you're definitely still a dude." "Yeah, so? Something wrong with??" I started to argue only for another sound to cut through the moment, this time a sharp, bell-like bing. Immediately, my friend's gaze shot to my tits as his brow furrowed. "Did your boobs just ding?" "Not exactly," I answered with a laugh as I raised a hand to dig into my cleavage. At first, I just enjoyed the feel of the soft warm flesh on my fingers, but then I found what I was looking for and pulled it out. "My phone did." "And you keep that in your cleavage for some reason?" Ollie questioned, seeming just as bewildered by this turn of events as my rack randomly making noises. "Where else am I supposed to put it?!" I demanded, gesturing down at my tight, revealing outfit. "I don't want to carry a purse just for my phone and the pockets on these shorts are so small they'd be lucky to be able to hold a marble." That answer had my roommate rolling his eyes. "Great, so you didn't bring your wallet, meaning I'm gonna have to pay for everything tonight." "Nope!" I chirped smugly. "That's part of why I got this leather phone case. Not only does it keep my tits from smudging the screen and randomly swiping stuff, it also has room for ID, credit cards, and a little cash." As I finished that explanation, I flipped the cover open and pulled out a few neatly folded bills from within. "See? You can once again be a cheapskate and make everyone think you're a horrible boyfriend." "Good, 'cause that's exactly what I'm gonna do!" Ollie huffed defiantly. "Good!" I shot back. "Good!" came an even louder retort. "Good! I continued the sequence, getting even louder. That was as far as either Ollie or I could go, though. Almost in perfect unison, we both broke, laughter spilling out of us. By the time that was done, we'd reached the ticket counter for the theater. That lull didn't last long when the teen employee immediately asked, "What movie?" When Ollie answered, the attendant quoted back the price for two adults, sending us both right back into snickering. *********************************************** *********************************************** Huddled forward with my arms wrapped around me, I tightened both my grip and my jaw to try to keep the latter from chattering. I managed that, but I couldn't keep the rest of me from shivering nor my legs from bouncing about in an effort to generate warmth. It was just that cold. "What the hell's the matter with you?" Ollie leaned over to hiss under the sound of the movie that was playing. "Gotta go to the bathroom or something? If so just go, already." "No!" I shot back as loudly as I dared in the situation. "I'm fucking freezing." Even in the dark theater, I could see my friend's face twist in doubt. "You are? I mean, I guess it's kinda cool in here, but nothing worth bitching about." "Kinda cool?" I demanded incredulously. "I've been in snow storms warmer than this!" The hyperbole earned me a chuckle from my roommate. "If you tried to wear that outfit in a snowstorm, you'd be nothing but a block of ice." "Well, I'm well on my way to becoming one!" I growled in turn. "SSShhh!" someone nearby shushed me sharply. In response, my head whipped around so that I could toss a defiant look at the man responsible. While I couldn't tell exactly who that had been, I knew which group the culprit belonged to. After all, there were only a couple other ones in the theater with Ollie and me. Lowering his voice more to appease the jackass in the crowd, my friend whispered, "Well maybe you should've bought some warmer clothes." "I was fine out on the street!" I snapped back, although I too quieted down to avoid getting hushed again. Ollie let out a frustrated sigh. "Well, what do you want to do about it then? Leave? Because I'm not gonna put up with you spending the rest of the movie bouncing all over the place." "Oh, is this?" I paused for a moment to use my arms to give my tits a good bounce. "?distracting you." That display had my friend rolling his eyes. "You're distracting me, jackass, so either sit still or let's go." "Ugh fine ..." I grumbled in frustration, but I didn't really have any arguments for that. "I guess we're leaving then, 'cause there's no fucking way that I'm gonna be able to sit still in this fucking icebox." "Alright, then get up and get moving," Ollie commanded, making a rising gesture with one hand as he used the other to stand up. "We've already ruined enough of these people's movie." "Whatever," I muttered even as I shoved myself to my feet in turn. I was too sick of the cold to bother with arguing. In fact, I didn't say another word until I finally got outside. It was the feel of the warm night air hitting my skin that pulled a relieved, "Ahhhh, much better," from my lips. While I recovered from the chill, Ollie drifted to a stop next to me without offering any sort of response. Instead, he just peered over my way with his brow furrowed. I didn't even notice he was there at first, but once I did, the staring quickly grew awkward. "What?" I demanded after a couple of moments, folding my arms again like I was still back in the freezing theater. "Nothing," Ollie answered vaguely as he turned away from me to look around the street. "So, what are we doing next? Dinner? Drinks?" The non-answer had me scowling for a beat before I shrugged it off to move on to my friend's question. "I don't know? Why don't we just do both at the same time and eat at the bar?" "Hmm ..." Ollie hummed for a moment before he shrugged. "I guess I could go for bar food." "Great then let's get going," I declared as I started down the road to where Ollie had parked his car. "All that shivering made me hungry." *********************************************** *********************************************** "Yes! Finally!" I exclaimed as my hand darted forward to snag one of the buffalo wings just as the waitress put them on the table in front of me. It ferried the meat right up to my mouth where I tore off a good sized chunk while moaning, "Mmm?" Unfortunately, my grip didn't quite prove up to that task. As my hand pulled away and meat tore, my fingers slipped on the hot sauce. My bite stayed in my mouth but the wing dropped. "Ah!" I growled while trying to accomplish the impossible and dodge out of the way. I didn't even get close. In fact, I didn't even really start moving until the wing had already made landing, dropping right into my cleavage. "Ha!" Olllie belted out a laugh, pointing toward my chest. "Look! You caught it!" "Yeah, but now my tits are covered in hot sauce!" I huffed in frustration as I looked down at the mess. Still chuckling, Ollie offered me an unconcerned shrug. "Better than ruining your brand new shirt, right?" "I guess ... " I conceded as I reached up to fish the piece of chicken out from my melon patch. "Wouldn't even have hit my shirt if these things weren't in the way." "Maybe, but then it would've just ruined your shorts," Ollie pointed out. "Although, short as those things are, it might've just buried itself between your thighs instead of between your boobs." "Whatever," I muttered as I tossed the troublesome wing back onto my plate. That freed my hands to get to work cleaning up the mess, first with a regular napkin then one of the wet naps that came with the wings. At least, it was pretty easy to clean up. It only took about a minute of fiddling with my boobs before their creamy swells were back to being spotless. Just to be sure, I did a few final dabs. "There. That should d?" I started to say as I looked up from the task. However, when I saw my friend, that remark died on my lips, lips that curled into an amused smirk. "Enjoying the show, Ollie?" "Huh?" the distracted response leaked out of Ollie before he realized what I'd just said. When he did, his gaze jerked right up to mine. "No! I was just waiting for you to finish." That terrible lie got a laugh from me. "Yeah ... sure you were." "I was!" Ollie insisted emphatically. I merely shrugged and said, "Okay. Not like I care if you stare at them or not." "I wasn't staring," my friend kept to his stupid story. "Okay! I get it!" I agreed sarcastically. "I'm just saying, it's not like I'm one of those crazy bitches who wears a low cut top to show off my massive rack then yells at everyone that takes a look." "And I'm just saying that I wasn't taking a look," Ollie retorted. Rolling my eyes at my roommate's ridiculous stubbornness, I just muttered, "Fine," before reaching out to grab my beer and take a long drink. "Careful. You're getting the next round, remember?" my friend pointed out. Finishing my swig, I pulled the mug away from my lips. "I know!" I growled before adding in a grumble, "Wouldn't have to pay for any of it if you weren't here." "Maybe," Ollie allowed with a shrug. "But you're the one who asked me to hang out, remember? If anything, I should've made you buy every round instead of just every other." "And maybe I should get a better friend!" I retorted. "The kind of friend who buys you stuff is called a boyfriend, and you're welcome to go get one if you want," Ollie countered as he grabbed his own beer. Just before he brought it to his lips, he added, "I'm not gonna judge." The idea of getting a boyfriend twisted my face up with revulsion. "Yuck. I'm not gonna put up with some dude slobbering on me all the time." My friend quirked an eyebrow at that. "Slobbering on you? I don't know what kind of boyfriend you used to be, but I've never slobbered on a girl." "You know what I mean. He'd want to get his hands on me, and jam his tongue in my mouth, and stick ..." Rather than finish, I trailed off into a disgusted shudder as I crossed my legs. "Ugh ... no amount of free stuff is worth that." "Guess that means you're going the lesbian route?" Ollie surmised. "Yep," I confirmed, thinking that should have been obvious. "Gonna narrow the field for me a bit, but I think I'm hot enough to turn some girls bi at the very least." Chuckling, Ollie gave me a shrug. "I guess that's possible. Plus, it's not like you're gonna have a problem being the boy in the relationship." "I don't know. I kinda like the idea of hot chicks buying me things and fawning over me," I mused. "Maybe I'll make them be the boy." "Well, that's probably not gonna work with converts, and I think the lesbians that want to be the guy in the relationship might be a little too manly for you to call them hot," my roommate reasoned. All I could offer in response was a shrug and respond, "I don't know. Gotta be some hot ones out there somewhere, right? There's hot everything, after all ? nerds, goths, athletes, the works." "True," Ollie conceded. "The trouble is finding them." "Well there are gay bars, right?" I inferred. "Yeah, for gay dudes," Ollie pointed out only to shrug right after. "I guess there has to be some for ladies, though." "Exactly. I can just swing by some of them and work the crowd like usual," I agreed. "The only thing that changes is the name of the place." "And not having a wingman," my friend added. "Not much for me to do at a lesbian bar." "Ah ... right ..." I muttered, having not considered that little problem. It was certainly frustrating. A wingman could make it a lot easier to pick someone up. Plus, it was just more fun to have a friend around to hang with rather than working the crowd alone. "I guess I'm not gonna be able to help you much anymore either." Ollie gave me an unconcerned shrug. "Maybe. Maybe not. Not really a worry for me right now, though, since I've already got a girlfriend." "Still can't believe she's sticking around after finding out you're rooming with this," I remarked as I gestured down at my incredible curves. "That's because you think everyone's as immature as you," my roommate retorted, lips curling into a smirk. Chuckling, I shook my head. "Whatever. As long as it's working for you I guess." "Yep," Ollie agreed before segueing, "Speaking of ... I'm thinking of taking Laura to Vick's barbeque Saturday. You going?" "Nah," I answered as I grabbed my beer to take a long draught. In fact, I finished the sucker right off, slamming it back to the table before shoving myself to my feet. "I'm gonna go get us that next round, so hurry up and finish your beer, pussy." "Don't worry," my friend replied as he grabbed his beer for a drink. "I'll be ready for another by the time you get back." "Oh, you'd better be!" I warned as I started off toward the bar. "And I will be!" Ollie's answer found me before distance and the noise of the crowd could swallow it up. Smirking, I slipped my way through the narrow spaces between the numerous crowded tables that cluttered the room. At least, I did until I came across a path that was exceptionally tight due to a portly fellow who was sitting well back from his table. That left only a small gap between his chair and the chair of another patron, too small a gap for my hips to get through the normal way. Instead, I had to turn to the side, to try to shimmy through. I could just barely get my ass through that way, but my ass wasn't the only part of me sticking out. "Hey!" the portly man barked as my tits caught him on the back of his head. Ducking forward, he twisted his head about clearly ready to yell, but he only got "Watch where?" out of his mouth before his eyes bulged out at the sight of just what had bumped into him. "Wow ... "Sorry!" I chirped out quickly before using the opening created by the man leaning forward to hastily shuffle the rest of the way through the gap. "No problem ..." came the guy's dazed reply as he rubbed absently at where he'd been 'struck'. Getting my hips straightened back out, I got moving toward the bar once more. "Damn tits," I rattled out in frustration as I tossed an annoyed look down at the massive things. It was far from the first time they had gotten in the way. However, given how big they were, that was probably just something I was going to have to get used to ? frustrating as it was. Fortunately, my boobs managed to behave themselves for the rest of my journey, allowing me to reach the bar without further incident. Then, they proved their usefulness by getting me the bartender's attention almost immediately. Within seconds, of my arrival, he was off to go fill up a couple mugs from the tap. Almost the very moment the bartender left, another man arrived, dropping himself against the bar right next to me. "Hey. Having a good night?" "Uhm ... yeah, I guess ..." I mumbled uncertainly as I tilted my head to peer at the guy in confusion. What the hell was he? "You guess, huh? You know what would make it better?" the guy asked, but he didn't give me a chance to answer. He immediately added, "Having a drink with me." "Oh," the word slipped out of me as I realized just what was going on. Obviously, this guy was trying to hit on me. That was weird. Not the fact that he would ? I would have if I saw a girl that looked like me ? just that it had happened without any effort or intention from me. I wasn't trying to pick up guys or anything tonight. I was just hanging out. "So excited you can't find the words?" the man tried to play it confident. "What? No," I denied with a laugh. "Sorry, I'm actually here with somebody." That made it the guy's turn to leak out a single, "Oh." "Yeah ..." I confirmed as the bartender came back and set down the pair of mugs I'd ordered. "And look, there's our beers so I should be getting back to him," I seized on the opportunity, scooping up the two drinks and turned to go. "See ya." "See ya," the man muttered in turn, clearly not happy with this turn of events. I couldn't really blame the guy for that, but I wasn't going to stick around either. No, I left immediately, worming my way back through the crowd. This time, I took a more aroundabout path, avoiding any particular tight squeezes. It took a little longer, but I got back to the table without my boobs crashing into anything. *********************************************** *********************************************** Chapter 25 "Oof," I grunted as I leaned back against the couch, rubbing at one of my shoulders. It wasn't really pain or exhaustion that had caused that sound, but simple boredom. Ollie was off with his girlfriend, and I essentially had no other friends at the moment. That wouldn't have been a problem if it were any other weekend, but I'd already been on my own with little to do for most of the week. "Vacation's not even close to over either," I muttered, lolling my head back to look up at the ceiling. Once my boss returned, I was getting 'fired'. It was only going to last a few months, but that was still a few months with no job. That was a lot of free time to do little besides think about my predicament. Honestly, my current situation didn't have a lot of worries left. I'd figured out the clothing mess. Stuff with my job was going to work itself out. All I really had to deal with was telling my friends and family which ... even if I knew what I was going to say, I wasn't going to do it any time soon. No, what I would really spend my time thinking about was a future stuck as this girl that I didn't even know the name of. I didn't want to, either. I wanted to go back to the way things were, but it wasn't possible. I was trapped. A shudder had me wrapping my arms around myself. "God fucking damn ... why is everywhere always so fucking cold?" I growled before rolling forward to thrust myself up to my feet. "He better not be fucking with me by changing the thermostat." Trudging over to the little pad on the wall that controlled the AC, I found my answer. No, Ollie had not changed the settings. They were exactly what they always were. The only thing that had changed was me. "Huh ... maybe he's right about these clothes?" I mused, glancing down at my current attire. It was a familiar sight, consisting of some very short shorts and a thin, stretchy top to accomodate my tits. Given that I'd worn some variant of that outfit every day since I'd finished sorting out my new wardrobe, it certainly should be familiar. It was also pretty skimpy, and women's clothes did tend to have lighter, thinner fabrics. There might have been some merit to covering up a little more. "Or, I can not have to buy even more clothes, keep looking amazing, and just lighten up on the AC a little," I mused out another possibility. Yeah, I liked that plan better. After a couple taps on the little panel, I was on my way back to the couch. In the background, I heard the sound of the AC kicking off ? for the time being anyway. It was still summer after all. Just as I plopped back into my seat and started to drift back into the boring afternoon, another sound entered the apartment ? my phone dinging. It was probably just another message from one of my friends, wanting me to come hang out or something. That meant I'd have to come up with yet another excuse for why I couldn't. Maybe I should just go with the girlfriend excuse again? That usually? A wince drove those plans from my head when I saw that the text wasn't from some friend I could easily blow off. It was from my boss, who knew exactly what was going on. As such, he would not be easily evaded, especially when he said, "We need to talk." After all, I was counting on him to take care of a lot of work-related issues. "Sure. Give me a call," I tried. When my boss's follow up, "In person," came back, I winced again. "Ugh ... damn it ..." I groaned as I flopped back against the couch. After a second of slouching there, though, I sat back up to type out a simple, "Where?" "I'll come by your place," was Mr. Johnston's replied, followed immediately by, "Be there in a bit." *********************************************** *********************************************** My phone was doing a poor job of distracting me. In fact, the video it played had long ago drifted out of my mind to become background noise. My gaze lay on nothing, made blank and distant by thoughts about my boss's arrival. Too soon for my liking, the sounds of the video were joined by those a few solid knocks on the door. My face tightened at that, but I got moving ? slowly. Sighing, I paused things on my phone and set it aside. Then, I pushed myself to my feet to trudge over to the door. There, I stalled for a moment, hand on the knob, before I finally pulled it open. As the door swung out of the way, it brought Mr. Johnston into my view just as it brought me into his. Of course, he looked pretty much the same as he always did. Me on the other hand ... At first, it seemed like my boss's face was creased with worry or sympathy or some shit like that, but none of that lasted. When he saw me, he's eyes shot wide. Well, at least they did when they saw my rack. His gaze seemed to get stuck there. With the door out of the way, I folded my arms under my tits and forced a smile onto my face. "Hello, sir." The greeting had Mr. Johnston clearing his throat as he snapped his eyes up to mine. "Ahem ... Billy, I presume?" "You presume correctly," I answered as I stepped back to clear the way and jab my head into the apartment. "You wanna come in." "Oh, yes, thank you," my boss ran through those three phrases with awkward quickness as he stepped inside. "Living room's right around the corner, you can't miss it," I informed the man as I closed the door and swept around him to go into the kitchen. "You want something to drink?" Even with my back to him, I could feel Mr. Johnston's gaze on me still, like it was boring in right between my shoulder blades even as he said, "Uhm, no thank you. I'm fine." "Okay," I acknowledged, opening the fridge anyway to grab a beer for myself. I started to reach over to twist off the top, but stopped just before my hand closed on the cap. Hissing in irritation, I instead stepped to the side to grab the bottle opener from the counter next to the fridge. It shouldn't have been necessary, but well ... a lot of things shouldn't have been. Popping the bottle open, I took a good, long swig out of it before I turned around, intending to join my boss in the living room. However, I ended up lurching to a sudden stop when he surprised me by not being in there. Well, technically he was, but rather than seated, he was standing just on the other side of the counter that separated the two rooms, apparently having been watching me that entire time. "So ..." I began, dragging the word out as I rubbed at one arm. "What did you need to talk about? Something get in the way of that plan you came up with for work?" Eyes never leaving me, Mr. Johnston gave a little shake of his head. "No, that's uh ... that's all good. I got in touch with the head of HR already and worked it out. There's already a temp lined up to fill in for you on Monday." "Oh. Good good ..." I muttered followed by another long pull of my beer. "I actually wanted to talk about being a girl," my boss replied. Some beer chose that exact moment to go down the wrong pipe. Instantly, my smooth chug turned into a sputtering cough that caused a fine spray of beer to burst from my lips. Of course, it didn't end there. I spent the next couple of seconds folded over, hacking to clear my windpipe. "Are you alright?" Mr. Johnston asked, his voice carrying none of the usual mocking tone that such a gaff would normally elicit. "Yep," I managed to croak as I finally lifted my head again. Immediately, I wished I hadn't. Mockery, I could've dealt with ? even welcomed ? but that wasn't what waited for me. It wasn't a bland disinterest either. Instead, my boss's old eyes looked at me with what could only be described as pity. "And I'm alright with the whole girl thing, too," I added, forcing confidence into my voice. "Really?" Mr. Johnston inquired. "Yep, not even that big of a deal really," I declared. "I mean, sure, I had a little trouble figuring out how to find clothes to fit at first." "I can imagine," my boss remarked, his eyes very briefly dipping down from mine. "It's surprising you can even stand with those things on your chest." "These?" I questioned, briefly pointing at my tits before using the same hand to wave off the idea. "Nah, they're no trouble really ? well other than the finding stuff to fit them, thing. For some reason nobody makes clothes for skinny girls with big boobs." Tilting his head slightly, Mr. Johnston furrowed his brow. "Well, I imagine it's a small market. You do have rather ... unique proportions, after all." "Yeah, that's one way of putting it," I remarked with a chuckle. "Anyway ... I figured that part out too, and don't worry, I got some more professional stuff for work. Sorry about leaving you in the lurch for an assistant by the way and the whole ... y'know stealing ... thing." "Don't worry about it," my boss told me, waving a hand dismissively. "I think of this as being pretty much the same as you having a medical emergency, and as for the pills, well ... I imagine you've learned your lesson." "Definitely not gonna do something like that again, that's for sure," I confirmed. While he nodded slowly to show he had heard, Mr. Johnston offered no reply. He just stood there, staring at me with those pity-filled eyes. "So ... anyway ..." I jumped into the empty silence that had started to build. "If you just wanted to check up on me, thanks, but I'm fine. Nothing to worry about here." For a moment, it seemed like my boss was going to remain silent again before he finally said, "So I see." There was something in the way he said it, though, that I found weird. "Did you decide to go with Billie then or did you come up with a different name." "Uhm ... well ... " I stalled as my mind whirled, but there wasn't enough time. In the end, I braced myself before finishing, "No, actually, I haven't figured out a name yet, but I will soon." I couldn't have said what exactly I expected in response, but it wasn't Mr. Johnston merely answering, "Ah, well, you have plenty of time, so no need to rush" "Yeah ..." I mumbled. "Just as there was apparently no need for me to rush over here after getting back from my trip," my boss segued. "Still, thanks for humoring the worries of an old man." I got my lips to curl into a little smirk at the self-deprecation. "Anytime, sir." "Right ..." Mr. Johnston replied, dragging the word out for a moment, before suddenly his entire demeanor changed. "Anyway, I should let you get back to working on that new name. Nice to see you again, Billy." "Nice to see ya again, too, sir," I parroted back. That was the end of words. After that, my boss just gave me a crisp nod then started toward the door. A little surprised, I watched him the whole way, sort of expecting him to stop or add some final point. Neither happened. He just left, leaving me alone in the apartment once more. *********************************************** *********************************************** "Soooo pretty ..." I complimented as I stared into the bottle I held where the golden brown fluid shifted and swirled. "Tastes good, too," I added before bringing the thing to my lips to suck down a burning gulp. "Ahhhh ...." With the drink done, I let the hand with the bottle drop to my lap while my attention drifted around the living room. Huh, that chair looks kinda funny. Did it always spin like? The clatter of the front door yanked my interest from the funny chair and spun me about. There was the back of a stupid couch in the way, though, so I clambered up onto my knees to get some extra height. That got my tits just high enough that I could rest them on top of the couch's back as I leaned against it, waiting impatiently for whoever had arrived to come around the corner. "Ollie!" I exclaimed in delight as my roommate rounded the bend. Starting, Ollie jerked around to look at me, brow furrowing when he did. "Uhm ... h?" he began, but before the man could finish a second form moved into my view, that of a short, gymnast-looking girl. "And Ollie's girlfriend!" I called raising my hands to wave them both excitedly. "Hi Ollie's girlfriend!" A quizzical look answered me followed by Laura saying, "Uh ... hi, Billie?" I could just tell that she was using the 'ie' version, too. That fucking bitch. I should? "Fuck dude! How much have you had to drink?!" Ollie demanded, having apparently walked over to the couch to point at the coffee table beyond. "I don't know," I answered with a shrug before my head could manage to follow my roommate's gesture to the table laden with beer bottles. "Oh!" I blurted, then whipped myself back around to look at Ollie. "I know I drank all the beer! We're outta beer! That's why I got whiskey now!" "So I see," my friend remarked, shaking his head. Not really caring what that was about, I just kept right on talking, "Yep. It's pretty, and it tastes good, too. Not as good as one of those big fruity girl drinks, though." Mind switching tracks, I flipped my gaze over to Laura. "Do you like those fruity, girl drinks, Ollie's girlfriend?" "I like margaritas," the girl answered. "Do those?" "Ooo! Margaritas!" I blurted, twisting my attention back to Ollie. "We should go get margaritas! You drive! Let's go!" Plan made, I tried to follow through on it, but there was a problem with the damn couch. When I tried to shove myself off of it and onto my feet, it must've tripped me or something, because I ended up right back to kneeling on the cushions. Stupid thing. Just as I was gearing up to glare the couch into submission, I heard Ollie chuckle at something he thought was funny. That pulled my gaze up, but I didn't see what had caused the laughter. All that waited for me was my friend remarking, "I think the only place you're going tonight is to bed." "Aw, why ya gotta be so lame?" I huffed in frustration only to immediately shift focus to Laura again. "Why you with this lame-o anyway? You should be with me instead! I'm a lot more fun!" "I think you're a little too much fun for me," Laura remarked with a giggle. Meanwhile, Ollie rolled his eyes at me before turning to his girlfriend. "Sorry about her." Giggling again, Laura waved off the concern. "Don't worry about it. She's not the first girl to drunkenly ask me out." "Well, I appreciate your understanding with regard to my idiot roommate," Ollie replied, lips curled into a smirk. "Hey! I'm not?!" I started to protest before a bout of queasiness briefly robbed me of my ability to speak. "And you shouldn't talk about me like I'm not here! I'm right here! See?!" I started poking myself with my free hand to prove my point. "Oh, we know. Trust me," Ollie assured me as he finally turned his attention back where it was supposed to be ? on me. As he did, he walked around the couch to the front and gestured at me to get up. "Now come on. Time to get going." "Ooo, we finally gonna get margaritas?!" I exclaimed excitedly as I twisted my upper body around to follow my roommate's movements. Ollie shrugged. "Certainly not if you don't get off the couch." "Off the?" I mumbled as my gaze dropped. Only then did I remember where I was kneeling. "Oh! Right! I can do that! Off I?" Midway through that claim, the couch thwarted me for the second time, sucking me right back down when I tried to stand up. Fucking couch. Before I could pound the thing into submission, a snickering Ollie caught my shoulder. "Here come on, turn around," he directed as his hands spun me around to face forward again. "Now get your legs out, and ... up!" With shocking ease, my friend yanked me right to my feet. In fact, it was so shocking that even once I was up, I kept trying to get up anyway. That didn't work so well. Instead of up, I fell down. At least, I started to before something solid appeared in the way to stop me from tipping any further. "Nope. No falling allowed. Gotta stay on your feet," I not only heard Ollie tell me, I could feel the vibrations of his voice echoing through the thing I was leaning against. When I looked up at it I saw why. "Oh, it's you," I remarked absently only to furrow my brow. "When did you get so tall?" "A couple of weeks ago," came the man's utterly bewildering answer. "Huh?" I mumbled, brow crinkling. What could have made him so tall that recently? It was weird, so weird that when I looked up from thinking about it, I was suddenly in my room, standing next to my bed. "Alright, down you go," I heard Ollie say as before lowering me onto the bed. A moment later, my back hit the mattress, and it just felt so good. "Mmm," I moaned, burrowing deeper into its comfort. "Hey! No sleeping yet!" Ollie barked. My eyes popped open to glare at the man as I growled, "What?!" "Legs first," my roommate directed as I felt a hand smack me on the knee. "Huh?" I murmured at first until I looked down and saw that only my top half was on the bed. My legs and half of my ass were hanging off the edge. "Oh. Get up here legs," I commanded, and they listened, for the most part. One calf and its foot ally seemed to prefer dangling in the air. Sighing, Ollie just grabbed the insubordinate appendage and tossed it up on the bed with the rest of me. Then he fought a bit with a blanket for some reason. Oh, it was so he could put it over me. That made sense. It was warm. Vaguely, I thought I heard Ollie say, "Night dude." "Mmm ... night ..." I mumbled back just to be sure. *********************************************** *********************************************** Chapter 26 "Ugh ... " I groaned as I woke to a world that seemed to be nothing but my head and whatever was pounding away at it. "Someone needs to make booze that gets you drunk but doesn't give you a hangover." Sadly, even if such an invention were possible, it hadn't yet been created last night, so I had a hangover. It wasn't the worst I'd ever had, but it sure as fuck wasn't fun, especially not when I tried to sit up. The pounding and dizziness got so bad that I had to just sit still for a couple of seconds to keep from spilling my guts on the floor. That proved to be the worst assault that my head had for me, though. The wave that hit me when I stood up was not quite as powerful. Brushing it aside, I trudged off in search of what I needed most at the moment ? a toilet. Fortunately, the bathroom wasn't far. It took me maybe a dozen steps to go from bed to porcelain basin. I lost a couple more moments to fighting with a fly, but then I was free to reach for ... nothing. A heavy sigh slipped out of me as my hands slid away from my fly to tug the tight shorts, along with the panties underneath them, off my wide, female hips. After all, there was no cock for them to aim anymore. No, instead, I had to get half-undressed and sit down just to take a leak. Even the actual act of it felt ... off. "Fucking girl parts," I muttered before reaching over to tear off some toilet paper. Wiping, another obnoxious requirement placed on what had once been such a simple task ? practically just point and shoot. Despite all of the extra nonsense, I still finished up in the bathroom quickly enough. That was only because I decided that I cared more about breakfast than showering. Otherwise, I would've been stuck in there for quite a while, dealing with my hair. Fuck, everything that happened in this room was such a hassle now. Another sigh found its way past my lips as I stepped out of the bathroom and turned toward the kitchen while I rubbed at my temples. It might not be making me want to throw up, but my head was still not happy about my decisions the previous night. Some food would probably? "Good morning," a female voice chirped brightly. Lurching to a stop, I yanked my attention up only to wince at the sudden movement. That didn't stop me from spotting Ollie's girlfriend sitting in the living room, though. Oddly, it was just her there with no sign of my roommate. "G'morning," I answered back as I glanced around, but there was no one else to find. "Where's Ollie?" "He ran out to get coffee," Laura explained while tossing a bewildered look over at the kitchen. "Because apparently you don't have a coffee maker for some reason?" "Oh, yeah," I acknowledged, turning to slip into the kitchen to find some breakfast. "We did, but it broke, and neither of us cared enough to replace it. Not that there's anything wrong with coffee. Alcohol is just our preferred substance to abuse." Behind me, Laura rose to come up to the counter that separated the two rooms while remarking, "So I remember from last night. I was very flattered to be asked out, by the way, even if you were clearly very drunk." "Huh?" I mumbled, momentarily at a loss before my hazy memories of my booze-soaked evening reminded me what the woman was talking about. "Oh! Right!" I acknowledged with a chuckle followed by my tossing a sly smirk back her way. "Well, it wasn't just the booze talking. I still think you'd have more fun with me than him." A burst of laughter erupted from Laura's lips at the offer. "Wow. Good to know, but sorry, I think I'm going to see where things go with Ollie." "Oh well," I answered with a nonchalant shrug. "I guess I can't blame you. He is a pretty great guy." "Yeah ..." Laura's response agreed, but not so much in the way she said it, trailing off slowly as her gaze fell to her lap. I barely had time to wonder about that, though, before she spoke again. "This is probably going to make me sound like a jealous bitch, but uhm ... I was actually kinda worried when I first met you." "Oh yeah?" I replied, feeling a bit smug. So much for Ollie's grand claims of maturity. "Yeah, I mean ... look at you," Laura continued, lifting her head to sweep me with her gaze while she gave a little wave with one hand. "You're like a real life Jessica Rabbit, so when Ollie told me you were living together, well I kinda assumed he was into you and pretending to be 'just friends' while he waited for his shot." That idea got a hearty laugh from me as I shook my head. "Hahahah, ha ... yeah ... no ... you don't gotta worry about that. Trust me. We really are just friends." "Of course! I get that now," the woman stated emphatically. "I mean, Ollie's been great, and you're into girls. It was just a silly assumption on my part." "Well, not too silly. I actually thought I'd screwed things up for him when we bumped into each other that night," I admitted, gesturing down at myself. "This is a lot to dump on a two date old relationship." "Yeah, it was," Laura agreed with a chuckle. "But Ollie was just so open and honest about the situation and wanting to keep seeing me that it was easy to be swayed." Brow furrowing slightly, I mumbled, "Open and honest, huh ..." "Hmm? What was that?" the woman inquired. "Nothing, just respect for my roommate," I explained. "If I'd been in a situation like that, I'm sure I would've fucked it up some?." The sound of the door opening had me stopping mid word to look over just as Ollie entered the apartment. He did so with a carry tray bearing three cups in one hand and a small paper bag tucked under the same arm. The other hand was busy closing the door behind him as his eyes widened slightly at the sight of me. "Oh, hey! You're up!" Ollie remarked before continuing into the apartment. "Yep, and your ability to state the obvious is as keen as ever," I jibed in returned. That joke got my friend's lips to curl into a smirk. "Well, I do like to keep in practice." "I noticed!" I tossed back. Snickering at the silly exchange, Ollie cut over to his girlfriend to set first one of the cups, then the little bag in front of her. "One latte with extra foam and a cranberry, walnut bagel with strawberry cream cheese." "Wow, that's perfect, thanks," Laura replied as she stared at the items in disbelief. "I can't believe you actually remembered all of that." "And I can't believe you doubted me," Ollie quipped before leaning in to give his girlfriend a quick peck on the cheek. With that done, he turned back to me to set another cup on the counter. "Black." Faced with that blunt declaration, I affected a childish pout. "What? I don't get custom order coffee with a fancy bagel and cream cheese." "Nope," Ollie denied immediately, retrieving his own cup from the carry tray to lift it to his lips. "You're lucky I thought to get you anything." Chuckling, I shook my head and reached out for the coffee. "Whatever." "Whatever?" Ollie repeated back, face twisting with false indignance. "Is that what your momma taught you to say when someone gives you something?" Rolling my eyes, I corrected myself to, "Thank you for the coffee, Ollie," with every word dripping with sarcasm. Despite the obvious insincerity, my friend still grinned and gave a triumphant nod. "That's better." *********************************************** *********************************************** "So, apparently your girlfriend was very impressed with how open and honest you were about me," I remarked once the girlfriend in question was gone. "Yeah? So?" Ollie questioned as he joined me in the living room and dropped into one of the chairs. "So, I was thinking I should probably know what lies, your openness and honesty are gonna expect me to repeat," I explained. "None," my friend answered bluntly. Brow furrowing, I parroted back. "None?" "None," Ollie confirmed. "So she knows about what happened with me and everything?" I questioned in surprise. Despite his earlier answer, my roommate shook his head. "No. I mean, I told her something had happened to you to explain why you got so fucking drunk last night, but I didn't tell her what." "And she didn't ask?" I pressed. "She did, but I just said that it wasn't my stuff to talk about, and that she'd have to ask you if she wanted to know," Ollie explained. "Did she?" Slowly, I shook my head. "No ... she did mention having been worried about you having such a hot roommate." "Well, yeah, she was pretty nervous the night you two bumped into one another," Ollie acknowledged only to drift into a scowl. "She didn't say anything about still being worried, though, right?" "Nope," I told him. "She mentioned me being into girls, which I assume you told her." "I did last night since you're such a fucking asshole that you hit on my girlfriend right in front of me," Ollie shot back before tacking on an extra, "Ass." Chuckling, I shrugged off the insults. "I just said she'd have more fun with me than you, which is obviously the truth." "Whatever," my friend grumbled dismissively. "What else did you two girls chat about while I was gone?" "Hmm ..." I hummed, rubbing at my chin. "That was just about it. We didn't talk for long before you showed up." "Ah ..." Ollie acknowledged, looking a little relieved. "Oh!" I blurted as I remembered something. "I did take the opportunity to talk ya up a bit to her, y'know, say how great a guy are and all that. She even agreed!" "Really?" Ollie blurted as a hint of surprised delight flashed across his face, ending in an expression that looked rather self-satisfied. "Well, that's great! She's great, too." My lips curled in a wry smirk. "I bet she is. Counting the night you met, you've had three dates, and she's still been here come morning all three times." Rolling his eyes, Ollie spat out a disgusted, "Uck, I didn't say that just because of the sex, Billy, God. Besides, your math's wrong." "How so?" I demanded. "One, we've had lunch a few times, and I didn't end up back here," my friend elaborated, counting off on his fingers. "And two, we didn't do anything last night?" "Really?" I double-checked with a snicker. "I cock-blocked you?" Again, Ollie was rolling his eyes. "No, despite you being a fucking drunk baby, you didn't "cock-block" me. We just came back here to unwind a little, just the two of us." "Which is code for have sex, so if I didn't fuck it up, how did you manage it?" I pressed. "I didn't," my roommate insisted. "After I got you to bed, we put a movie on, and she ended up drifting off on the couch." "So you did fuck it up," I declared. "What?" Ollie mumbled in confusion, shaking his head. "No, she was just tired and fell asleep." This time, I was the one rolling my eyes. "Yeah, tired of you not making a move during a boring ass movie." "That's not what?" Ollie started to argue only to catch himself. "You know what, not the point. I'm not gonna second guess myself about it. I was just pointing out that, unlike a pig like you, I can think a girl is great for reasons beyond just sex." "But the sex is great, right?" I asked. A smug grin invaded my friend's face. "Wouldn't you like to know." "Ha. I certainly wouldn't complain about finding out for myself," I remarked with a laugh. "I can't imagine you plan to give me the chance, though." "You're damn right I'm not," Ollie confirmed my guess before moving smoothly into, "But speaking of you, what led you to get hammered all alone last night?" I shrugged. "Boredom." Ollie cocked an eyebrow at that answer. "You drank all of our beer and most of our whiskey just because you were bored?" "Yep," I affirmed. "Nothing better to do." "Why didn't you go out?" my friend asked. "I thought you loved tricking guys into buying you free drinks?" I offered another shrug. "I do, but then I would've had to spend the whole night dealing with guys hitting on me." "Shoulda tried to find one of those lesbian bars," Ollie suggested. "I bet you'd get plenty of free drinks at a place like that, too." "Yeah, but I'd probably still spend most of the time getting hit on by dudes, or at least girls that look and act like them," I pointed out. This time, it was my roommate's turn to shrug. "Still better than actual dudes, right?" "True," I conceded, but I didn't bother to say more. What I really felt like was a drink which got me wondering how much whiskey was left. Probably at least a few shots worth. I was pretty sure there was other booze in the apartment, too. "What are you going to do come Monday?" Ollie asked out of the blue. Looking up from my thoughts, I furrowed my brow in confusion. "Huh? What do you mean?" "Didn't you say something about getting like three months off?" my friend checked. I nodded slowly. "Yeah, what does that have to do with anything?" "Well, you were just so bored on a Saturday that you felt the need to drink to the point where you couldn't figure out how to get off the couch," my friend explained. "What are you going to do when Monday comes around?" Dumbfounded, I had to blink a couple of times before furrowing my brow. "Uhm ... good question. I haven't really thought about it." "You could get back to working out?" Ollie proposed. Immediately, my face twisted with disdain, prompting a laugh from my roommate. "First time was that bad, huh?" "It was torture," I muttered. "Yeah, well the first time always sucks, but you'll probably enjoy it again once you get back into it," Ollie pointed out. "Besides, if you keep drinking that much, you're gonna have to do something to burn off the calories beyond just lounging around here. Otherwise, you're gonna get fat, and I can't imagine you want that." Scowling, I shifted a hand over to rub at my stomach. It wasn't particularly firm, lacking any hint of the six pack I'd been so proud of as a guy. Still, it seemed to be as flat and narrow as ever. There was no guarantee that it always would be, though. Most girls I'd known throughout my life had either worked out, dieted, or both ? at least the skinny ones. Hell, even most of the ... fuller ones did something to keep themselves from getting truly fat. I certainly didn't want to get fat, either. Being incredibly fucking hot was pretty much the only good thing about this body. "I guess I could give it another try ... " I mumbled thoughtfully before pulling my attention up from my currently non-existent gut. "But I don't exactly have a membership. Last time I had to sign up for a guest pass to get in." "Hmm," Ollie hummed, resting his chin in one hand. "I'd say just sign up for new membership, but they'll probably wonder why you're paying with a guy's credit card and have no ID ..." "Yeah ..." I muttered, glancing down at myself. "I'm not sure I could even cancel my old membership anymore." Looking pensive, my roommate nodded slowly. "Maybe not. I might be able to, though. I could just call 'em up, pretend to be you, and say I moved or whatever and need my membership canceled." "Uhm ... I guess that would work if you're willing to do it," I acknowledge. "Of course. No sense in wasting money every month on something you can't use," Ollie answered. "But I'm gonna need you around when I do, just in case they ask me for something I don't know the answer to." "Sure," I agreed. "Hell, might as well do it right now." Nodding, my friend reached for his phone. "Okay, let me just find their number." *********************************************** *********************************************** Chapter 27 "Hey!" Ollie called out, followed by the sound of him kicking the front door closed behind him. Without breaking eye contact with the TV, I tilted my head to the side to yell back, "Hey! You pick up dinner?!" "Yep," my roommate confirmed as he walked into the living, drifting to a stop next to where I sat on the couch. For a moment, he paused there, watching the screen just like I was. However, unlike me he broke away after that, turning my way while jabbing his head toward the TV. "Aren't you sick of this by now?" Lacking any energy, I offered a distracted shrug. "Meh ... nothing else to do really?" "Really? Nothing?" Ollie questioned dubiously. Again, I mustered a listless shrug. "Nowhere to go. No job to do. No friends to hang out with." "You have friends you could hang out with. You just refuse to tell them what happened," Ollie pointed out. "Tell them what exactly?!" I snapped, whipping about to glare at my friend. "That I was stupid enough to play around with some impossible pills and got stuck as a girl?!" Ollie's face tightened, but he didn't yield. "That's what happened, but if you don't like that, you could always just be vague." "Yeah, right, because no one's gonna want to know how I ended up with these!" I scoffed, grabbing my tits for emphasis. Immediately after, I felt a sudden weariness, leading to me flopping back against the couch. "No, if I tell anyone anything, they're gonna make me tell them everything." That answer silenced my roommate, but only for a moment. "Well, if you don't like the truth you could always lie." "Yeah?" I spat, rolling my head to the side to look at my friend again. "And what lie am I supposed to tell people that's going to explain this?" Despite the shrug he gave me then, Ollie did have an answer. "I don't know. You could say you were part of a drug trial and this was a side effect." "A side effect?" I repeated back dubiously. "It's going to be nearly impossible to convince people that medicine could do this on purpose, much less by accident." "Well then, you can say that it was on purpose," Ollie countered. My brow furrowed in confusion. "What? You mean tell people I wanted to be a girl?" "Yeah," my friend confirmed. "And how's that gonna help?" I demanded. "We've both met people like that before and they don't come out of it looking like this." "That's where you add the drug trial thing," Ollie pulled his ideas together. "Say you took the leap because this new drug went into testing that was supposed to get better results, and you managed to get into one of the trials." For a beat, I just stared at my friend before jerking my gaze back to the TV with a sneered, "Tfft, that's ridiculous." "Any more ridiculous than you hiding in the apartment for weeks on end?" Ollie shot back. "I'm not hiding!" I roared. Well, I meant to anyway. It came out as more of a shriek in my girly voice. Feeling my eyes start to burn, I ground my teeth together and shoved myself to my feet. "Just leave me alone," I hissed before blowing by Ollie to get to my room, slamming the door closed behind me. *********************************************** *********************************************** "You sure you don't want to come?" Ollie double-checked as he fussed his way through getting ready to leave. Lounged on the couch, I nodded. "Yep." "Really sure?" Ollie tried one last time. "Laura says a lot of her hot friends are going to be there. One of them is even bi, uhm ... Madeline I think her name was." "Mmm," I grunted, adding a disinterested shrug. "I'm not gonna go to a party with no one I know at it just to hit on one girl." My roommate twisted his face skeptically at that claim. "Yeah ... I've seen you do exactly that on more than one occasion." "When I already knew the girl!" I shot back. Sighing, my roommate gave me a defeated shrug. "Fine, do what you want. I've gotta get going." "Have fun," I replied absently as I turned my focus fully back to the TV. "See ya," came Ollie's response. It took him a couple more seconds of hovering before he finally got moving, but once he did, it didn't take him long to get out of there. The sound of the apartment door a few seconds later made it clear that I was all alone. Free of distractions and annoyances, I sighed and slouched deeper into the couch. Ollie and his stupid girlfriend could be such a hassle sometimes. At least this time, they were going somewhere else for a change, so I wouldn't have to give up the living room, and consequently the TV, to give them some privacy. Tonight, I was the one that got some privacy. However, it seemed someone wanted to invade my solitude as, only a few minutes into it, my ringtone cut through the show I was watching. Rattling my throat in an annoyance, I reached over to grab my phone, accept the call, and jerk it up to my ear. "What did you forget this time, dumbass?" "Wow, what did I do to warrant going from 'sir' to 'dumbass'," the unexpected sound of my boss's voice answered flippantly. Starting with surprise, I snapped upright as I quickly blurted, "Sorry, Mr. Johnston. My roommate just left a couple of minutes ago, so I thought you were him calling to ask me if I could find something he forgot." "Well, I'd say no worries, but I called to ask you for something, which will only be easier if you feel guilty," my boss joked. "Ask me for something? What can I do?" I questioned, furrowing my brow. "Didn't they get a temp to fill in for me at work." "They did ? nice girl, super sweet, but pretty much completely useless," Mr. Johnston rattled off. "She can barely handle answering phones and keeping my schedule ? and I do mean barely." I winced at that level of ineptitude. "Sorry, if I hadn't?" "Good! More guilt!" my boss cut me off to declare. "You basically have to say yes to me now." "Say yes to what exactly?" I questioned. "I'd love to come back to work, but I still don't even have name stuff sorted out and?" "Yes, I understand. I'm not expecting you to come back in and work the desk outside my office. Amy can handle that," Mr. Johnston interjected. "What I would like you to do, though, is the reports, presentations, proposals, emails, and all the rest of that stuff. I'm already losing most of my day to meetings. I can't be losing the rest of it to work my assistant should be taking care of." "Really? I'd love to help," I began to say before quickly adding, "But I don't have any way to access company files or internal communications from home." "Not a problem," my boss stated. "The guys in IT set up my laptop so that I could access anything I needed outside of my office. I'll just get them to hook you up with the same thing." It was such an obvious solution that I should have expected it, but I hadn't. As such, I lost a moment as I tried to figure out if that would be sufficient. There didn't seem to be any other issues standing in the way. "I, uh ... I guess I can do that then," I answered uncertainly. "Great, come Monday, I'll get the IT guys to set up a laptop, then swing by your place after work to drop it off," Mr. Johnston told me. "Uhm ..." I stalled for a beat, but again didn't come up with any reason to refuse. "Okay ... I guess that works." When my boss spoke again, it was with a worried, "Everything alright?" "Yeah, of course," I assured him. "Why?" "Nothing, it just sounded like you had a problem with that plan," Mr. Johnston explained. "Oh, no, I was just ... thinking about my schedule," I clarified. "Y'know, making sure there wasn't going to be any sort of conflict." "Ah, busy enjoying the time off are ya?" my boss inquired. "You know it," I answered. "Well, sorry for getting in the way of your fun," Mr. Johnston apologized. Chuckling, I shrugged it off. "No problem. Really, it's the least I can do after how understanding you've been about this whole thing." "I'm glad you feel that way because there was one more imposition on your time I was hoping to get you to agree to," my boss informed me. "Oh, and what's that?" I inquired. "I have a party to attend Labor Day weekend, and I was hoping that I could convince you to go," Mr. Johnston revealed. A surprised, "What?" slipped out of me at that request. "Why? You've never asked me to come to one of those things before." "You've never been a beautiful, young woman, before," my boss pointed. "And what, you want to date me now?" I demanded incredulously. "Nope," Mr. Johnston denied. "I'm just looking for some company I don't think is boring, and while me inviting along my young, male assistant might've started some rumors, no one will bat an eye over my bringing a young woman." "So I'm invited because I look like arm candy now?" I surmised. "In a manner of speaking, yes," my boss confirmed. More than a little dubious, I questioned, "And why would I do this again?" "Because you feel guilty about stealing from me and leaving me high and dry without a decent assistant for months?" Mr. Johnston answered immediately. A wince shot through me. "There's not going to be anyone I know there, right, like my dad or something?" "Nope, at least I don't think. I don't know everyone you've ever met," my boss supplied, clearly ready for that question too. "But I'm pretty sure I'll be the only person you know there." For a second, I tried to come up with some other excuse, but eventually, like the man had said, guilt pulled a sigh of defeat from me. "Okay ... fine ... I'll go." "Great, now we've only got two weeks to get you a dress, and you're clearly not going to be able to wear something off the rack, so it's going to be a challenge to find something in time," Mr. Johnston declared, matching the topic shift with a suddenly long-winded and feminine way of speaking. "Fortunately, I have a very good relationship with several of the finest dress shops around town, so I'll call around to set up some appointments, then we'll get right on it. Call you back in a sec." Then, the call just ended with me still too overwhelmed by the assault of words to even give voice to a protest. Too late, I tried anyway, blurting out, "Wait!" but my boss had already hung up. By the time I got him on the phone again, everything had already been arranged, and I got swept right along with it. *********************************************** *********************************************** "Yes, I can see why you said this one was going to be a challenge, Gregory," one Ms. Anna Froche declared as she let her tape measure drop from my tits. A moment later, it snapped tight enough around my waist that I actually flinched, prompting a chiding, "Stand up straight, dear. Slouching will make my measurements useless." Feeling like I'd just been chastised by my mom for some reason, I muttered, "Sorry," and straightened back up. After tugging the tape even tighter, Ms. Froche got the measurement she was looking for. Then, she dropped the tape around my hips to continue the process while she returned to talking to my boss as if I wasn't there. "Yes, none of the subtlety and grace that your niece exudes so beautifully. This one is one is so much more ... overt, bursting with raw sex appeal." "This may just be a proud uncle talking, but I don't think my niece is lacking in the ... appeal department," Mr. Johnston remarked. "No, no. Of course not, it's merely a different sort of appeal ? a more easily clothed one," Ms. Froche explained as she finished with my hips before moving the tape to a new and very ... intimate locale. As a hand brushed the inside of my thigh, I started in surprise, clamping my knees together. "Ack! You stupid girl! Did your breasts steal all the nutrients and leave your brain to starve?!" the dressmaker shouted as she yanked her hand out from between my legs to use it to smack me hard on one thigh. "Make room!" Wincing, I muttered out another, "Sorry," as I pried my legs apart, twitching at every little nudge or tap that occured in the course of getting my inseam. Once the woman was finished, I immediately clamped my legs together again, glad to be done with that ? except it wasn't exactly done. The dressmaker was merely finished with that particular area. She had several more measurements to take down there, subdividing my body into different parts such as knee to ankle or waist to knee. At one point, she even measured me all the way from neck to ankle, both front and back. It was incredibly involved compared to anything I'd ever had to endure as a guy. "So did we have a particular style in mind?" Ms. Froche asked once she was finally done harassing me with her tape. "Not really," my boss answered for me. "We tried a few other shops first, but they really didn't have anything she could try on, at least that would look any good when she did, and of course they're not miracle workers like you." "They most certainly are not," the dressmaker answered without any attempt at humility with regard to her abilities. No, all she did was sweep around me, taking in every detail of my form in a way that felt incredibly invasive and judgmental. "Hmm ... very well, let's start from the top then. Evening gown? Cocktail dress? Red carpet splash? Late summer luncheon?" "Evening gown," Mr. Johnston told her. Nodding slowly, Ms. Froche continued her circuit until she stopped in front of me. "And what sort of impact are we looking to make? Sensual? Regal? Demure?" I expected my boss to continue to provide answers for me, but he just shrugged, tilted his head toward me, and said, "That's up to her." "Very well," the dressmaker let a richly condescending sigh. "Spit it out if you can manage to find the words." At that moment, I had some trouble with that task. I was too busy looking back over my shoulder with wide-eyes at being thrown to this shark like a hunk of meat. There was no sympathy or rescue waiting for me back there, though. No, my boss clearly knew what he had done and grinned in amusement at my stunned expression. "Look at people when they talk to you, you overripe melon patch!" Ms. Froche barked right before I felt her hand slap me sharply on the arm. A loud crack and jolt of pain had me whipping back around to the woman as I rubbed at where I'd been struck. "Ow ..." "It'll hurt a lot more if you waste more of my time, so speak!" the dressmaker threatened. "I-I ... I don't know," I stammered out as I leaned away from the woman. "You don't know?" Ms. Froche parroted back, as a dark scowl invaded her face. "You dressed yourself before coming here, didn't you? Gregory didn't do it for you like you're some sort of child?" "No, I, uh ... I dressed myself," I answered. "And you bought your own clothes didn't you; picked them out all on your own?" the dressmaker demanded. Bracing for a hit, I nodded. "Yes." Ms. Froche exploded, roaring out a mighty, "Then tell me what impression you want to make or get out of my shop!" While not a physical strike, I certainly felt like those words hit me. At the very least, they had enough force to make me recoil from their thunderous command. "I, uh ... well ... sexy ... I guess?" "Sexy?" the dressmaker parroted back with obvious disdain in her voice. "Of course, that would be your answer, shallow, blunt, and lacking beauty, just like you." "Hey!" I protested, drawing myself up. "I'm not 'lacking beauty'! I'm hot." "'Hot' is not beautiful," Ms. Froche scoffed, tossing a hand dismissively. "Hot is something a drunk sorority girl takes pride in while she's getting plowed by a football player. Hot is some pathetic trophy wife who everyone mocks and sneers the very moment her back is turned. Hot is a stripper who would repulse anyone in civilized light, but stirs the lustful beasts inside men who lurk in the shadowed underbelly of society. If you wish to merely be hot, there is no reason for you to be here. Just take a sheet from your bed and wear that. Your form is more than sinful enough to draw male eyes regardless." Taken aback by the vitriolic diatribe, I glanced back at my boss again, but he merely shrugged and said, "Don't look at me. I'm not the one that needs a dress, and a sheet ain't gonna cut it." "But you ..." I started to protest only to trail off as my jaw clenched. Growling, I turned back to the woman to huff, "Fine, then what would you suggest?" "Suggest? I suggest you get better manners before you ask others for help," Ms. Froche sneered. My hands joined my jaw in clenching before I hissed through my teeth. "I'm sorry for being so rude. Would you ? please ? help me decide." "Gladly," the dressmaker chirped, her previous disdain forgotten in an instant. Instead, she took to buzzing around me again, doing one quick circuit before stopping back in front. When she did, her hands thrust forward, cupping my tits and giving them a good bounce. "Hmm ... can you go without the bra or will these drop into your lap as soon as they're free?" Resisting the urge to either pull away or punch the woman, I forced myself to answer, "They're not saggy or anything. It just lifts them a little." "Really? Ahhh, the wonders of youth," Ms. Froche sighed wistfully even as she peered at me thoughtfully. "Well, let's start with some sample fabrics to see which suit you best." *********************************************** *********************************************** "Ugh ... what a nightmare ..." I groaned as I flopped onto the couch and reached up to rub at my shoulder. "What'd he make you do, move rocks around?" Ollie questioned. "No," I spat, only to wince as my fingers dug into a tender spot a little too hard. "But these tits are certainly boulder-like. My shoulders are killing me." At first, Ollie nodded in understanding, even offering a commiserating, "Yeah, they look heavy," but then his brow furrowed. "I've never heard you complain about them before, though." "That's because I've never had to lug 'em around all day," I explained, switching hands to start working on the other side. "When I'm sitting like this, a lot of their weight is lying on me. It makes breathing a little tougher, but it doesn't make my bra straps dig into my shoulders like a garrote into someone's neck." "Ah ..." my friend acknowledged. "Does your back hurt too?" Furrowing my brow, I sat up to arch and twist my back a bit. "Nope. Why?" "Nothing, it's just people usually talk about back problems when it comes to big boobs, not shoulder pain," Ollie explained. After taking a moment to consider that, I shrugged and dropped back into a slouch. "I don't know. My back seems fine. Maybe it's just tough enough to handle them?" "Maybe ..." my roommate allowed, trailing off pensively. It was only for a moment, though, before he, too, shrugged it off. "Anyway, other than your shoulder trouble, how did the dress shopping go?" "That was the nightmare," I clarified before gesturing up at my shoulders. "These are just a little sore." Ollie cocked an eyebrow. "Really? That bad?" "I spent half the day getting dragged from one shop to another to stand there while a bunch of women and my boss ran about in a fuss and held dresses up in front of me as they talked about the event, and purses, and shoes, and how much cleavage, and how much leg, and what style, and what neckline, and blahblahblahblah," I rattled off wearily. "And that was the easy part." "What was the hard part?" Ollie asked. "The other half of the day which I spent getting yelled at, insulted, groped, posed, and smacked by some crazy bitch who is way too into dresses," I finished, followed by a drawn out sigh. Of course, my 'friend' found it all very hilarious, snickering at my misery. "Did you at least get a pretty dress out of it?" I shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. The crazy lady told me what she planned to make, but she might as well have been speaking chinese for all the sense it made to me. Mr. Johnston seemed to understand, though, because he approved the design and agreed to the estimate." A smirk curled my lips. "Wanna guess how much it cost?" "Hmm ... " Ollie hummed for a moment before shrugging. "A thousand? Two? Five?" "Ten," I answered, raising a finger. "One dress. Ten thousand dollars." Incredulous laughter burst out of my roommate's lips. "Wow ... at least your boss is paying, right?" "I certainly wouldn't have gotten it if he wasn't!" I exclaimed. "It's still ridiculous, though. I'm basically going to be wearing my car. Hell, my car's not even worth that much anymore." "That's just the dress, too," Ollie remarked. That comment had my brow furrowing. "What do you mean?" "I mean, I assume you're gonna have some jewelry on as well, and I'm pretty sure shoes for something like that aren't cheap either," my friend pointed out. My face dropped heavily into one of my hands as a groan slipped out of me. "Ugh ... damn it." "What? You forget about that stuff?" Ollie asked with a smirk. "No!" I growled, lifting my head enough to glare at him. "I just didn't think about any of it!" I snapped before slamming my head back into my palm. "Ugh! He's gonna make me wear heels with this, I just know it!" Yet again, my pain brought my friend laughter. "That is what girls usually wear to this sort of thing." A heavy sigh slipped out of me, followed by a muttered, "Why did I ever agree to this?" "I don't know, but you did, so can't really back out now," Ollie noted. "Not after he spent ten thousand dollars on your dress." "Uff, I know," I groaned. "But hey, look on the bright side," Ollie added. Lifting my head, I tossed an incredulous look my friend's way. "What bright side?" Ollie smirked. "A party this fancy pretty much has to have an open bar, so ... free booze." *********************************************** *********************************************** Chapter 28 "Ow ..." I muttered, curling up on my bed to rub at my stomach. No, it was a little lower than that, like something unhappy about being digested was creeping its way through my intestines. It did ease after a few seconds, but it didn't fade away entirely, leaving a faint ache that threatened to blossom back into pain at any moment. "Guess I shouldn't have had that leftover chinese food last night," I muttered as I used the reprieve to sit up. I'd planned to stand as well, but I ended up stopping on the edge of the bed, slouching wearily and rubbing at bleary eyes. "Guess I shouldn't have agreed to help out with work either." The brief pause might have helped me deal with the early hour, but it also gave my indigestion a chance to rear up again. Folding forward, I clenched my arms to my gut and rode it out. There was nothing else for it at that point. Once the pain had subsided a second time, I finally had the energy to shove myself to my feet and trudge off to the bathroom. Of course, it came back a few times to bother me, but for the most part, I progressed normally through the routine that had become my norm the last few days. At least, I did until it came time to wash my tits. "Ow ..." I gasped as I swiped a soapy hand over one boob only for it to complain about the touch. I hadn't even been rough with it, having long ago learned that the mammoth mounds required a fairly gentle touch. However, that morning, even that was enough to prompt a twinge of pain. Scowling as I stood in the shower spray, I used my hands to poke and prod at first one then the other jug. Both were incredibly tender, protesting all but the mildest of contact. Nothing appeared to be wrong with them visibly, though ? same massive size, same perky teardrop shape. "Fucking girl body ..." I sneered under my breath. With a shake of my head, I got back to my shower, this time taking extra care around my chest. Nothing else seemed to cause similar trouble. Well, other than my hair, anyway, but it just took its usual obnoxious amount of time to wash and detangle. It would have to dry, too, except that I had finally learned why women did that thing where they wrapped a towel around their head. It was to save them several minutes of blasting a blow dryer at a sopping wet mop of hair only to find it still damp. Having figured this out, and spent some time learning how to wrap a towel up there so that it stayed on, I had taken to doing it as well. It wasn't the only feminine towel habit I had picked up either as I wrapped another around my rack before I ducked out of the bathroom and back into my own room to get dressed. "Geh ..." I hissed as I tried to hook my bra. The hooks didn't even get close to the loops that would hold them. In fact, I barely even started to tug before my sore tits made it very clear that they were not going to tolerate that. "Guess I'm going without today," I sighed as I tossed the garment back into my underwear drawer. Given that I was going to mostly just be sitting around the apartment working all day, it wasn't that big of a deal. I didn't need the thing to keep my tits' bouncing in check, and there was no one around to care if my nipples poked through my top except for Ollie. Hell, that part was almost a perk. If he looked, I would just call him on it, and he'd get all flustered trying to claim he wasn't staring, despite it being obvious that he was. "How could you not with these things hanging right there in front of you?" I remarked with a smirk, reaching up to cup my incredible melons. They might have been a pain at times, including that very moment, but they were also pretty fucking spectacular. As spectacular as they were, my tits didn't hold my attention for long. I released them soon enough, so that I could get back to dressing. However, I didn't do so in my new, tight, skimpy clothes nor in my old, baggy, guy stuff. No, as with the last few days, I dressed like I was going to work, even if I wasn't leaving the apartment. That included a nice blouse, albeit with buttons straining a bit around my assets, and a professional, knee-length skirt. After my previous struggles, some of the skirts I'd bought were of designs that were looser around my legs, but I'd bought more of the pencil variety as well, and that was what I went with that morning. It still felt a little weird to have my movements so restricted, but not nearly as weird as it had once been. It had been days since I'd tripped or stumbled because of the thing. Well ... one day, but that hadn't been my fault. If Ollie hadn't nearly run me over, I wouldn't have had to avoid him, and I never would've tripped. That incident was all his fault. After checking my reflection in the mirrored doors of my closet, I turned around to walk over to my desk, making sure to not hurry and risk blowing my streak. The new work laptop that my boss had promised lay there, waiting to get started on the day's task. There were many of them, more than I would be able to finish, but that was fine. It was something to do besides just zoning out in front of the TV. Scooping up the computer, I left my room behind. Normally, I'd head to the kitchen next, but whatever that chinese food had done to me had put me off of breakfast. Instead, I dropped myself onto the couch, tucking my legs up underneath me as I waited for the computer to boot up. It was the most comfortable position I had found so far that allowed me to sit up and work. Once the laptop was running, I got it connected to the company network and started on my first task. I found it hard to get into it. My twisting guts kept distracting me at random intervals and even when it was quiet, I felt tired and unfocused. Several times, I tried wiping at my face to clear that feeling away and get myself on track, but it never seemed to do much. Not that I couldn't get some work done. It was just harder, like I had to drag it out of me rather than getting into some sort of flow. Adding to the distractions was the sound of my roommate getting ready for his own work day. Normally, that was easy to tune out, but not today. Doors opening and closing, shower flipping on, and razor going at facial hair that I no longer had but he still did ? all of it ... "Hmm ..." I hummed as I reached down to rub at one calf. At no point had I ever shaved my legs, but they were still completely smooth. I couldn't see a downside to that, though. If anything, it seemed quite convenient, sparing me from more frustrating maintenance. Long hair was already enough of a pain. "Morning," Ollie's voice caught me in the middle of my rubbing. Starting with surprise, I jerked my hand away from my leg and my head up and around to look my friend's way. He didn't seem to notice any of that, though, as he wasn't even looking my way anymore, but off into the kitchen to get breakfast. "Oh uhm ... morning." For a moment, that seemed like it would be the end of the exchange as Ollie didn't appear to acknowledge what I'd said, so I started to turn back to my work. However, my roommate chose that exact moment to respond with, "Any big plans for today?" "No, just w?ahh ..." I started to answer only for my gut to choose that moment to twist painfully. My final word ended up as a quiet hiss while I folded forward, clamping my hands against my abdomen. "You okay?" came a worried question from the kitchen. "Yep!" I forced through a tight jaw. "Just regretting what I ate last night." "Ah ..." Ollie acknowledged only to catch himself. "Wait ... you had the last of the leftover chinese last night?" "Yeah, so?" I questioned, starting to feel the burst of discomfort fade. "So, I did, too, and I'm not clutching my stomach," Ollie remarked from much closer than the kitchen. Looking up, I found Ollie standing only a few feet to my side, peering at me with a furrowed brow. Immediately, I jerked upright, forcing my hands from my gut and back to my laptop. "Whatever. Unless you're admitting to poisoning me, it doesn't change anything." "Well, no, I didn't poison you ? not that you wouldn't have deserved it," Ollie joked. "But what if you're not sick?" "Tell that to my stomach," I answered absently, trying to get back into my work. "What if it's not your stomach?" Ollie asked. Furrowing my brow, I turned back to my friend. "What? You think I can't tell what hurts?" "No, I think you have different things down there than what you're used to," Ollie pointed out. "Things that can have stuff inside them besides food. At first I just kept looking at my roommate in confusion before something finally caught, widening my eyes as I shook my head. "No ... It's not ..." Ollie shrugged uncomfortably. "I mean ... it has been about a month, and that medicine did seem to do a really ... thorough job with the change." "Alright, but ..." I tried to argue, but the only arguments I came up with were stupid. That I was a guy? That obviously wasn't true. That it just couldn't be? I would have thought that about both changing like I had and getting stuck that way at different points, but both had happened. "Is it just the ... indigestion?" Ollie inquired. With a creeping sensation of dread, I shook my head. "No, my tits were really tender this morning, too." The wince that flashed across my roommate's face said everything even as his actual words tried to hedge. "I don't know. I think maybe this might be ... y'know." "But ... " the word fell out of my lips without any real purpose. It took my brain a second to come up with a reason for it. "But there hasn't been any blood!" "Well, I'm certainly no expert but the p is for pre-, right?" Ollie countered. "Doesn't that mean that uhm ... ? that ? comes after?" For a couple moments, I blinked, mind whirling along in an effort to find some sort of defense against reality. It didn't find one, though. In the end, I buried my face in my hands as I leaked out, "Fuck me ..." *********************************************** *********************************************** "I can't believe it's come to this," I muttered as I stared at the item in my hand. It didn't look like much, and yet, it was enough to make me hate life. After all, it was a tampon. Like most guys, I'd never spent much time looking at those things. On the contrary, I had possessed a carefully guarded ignorance about this particular aspect of the female body. I wished I was still ignorant, but I wasn't. Thanks to some fucking cramping, I'd spent the day learning far too much about my predicament, a predicament that was going to repeat every month for the next twenty years or so. At least, I'd managed to spare myself the embarrassment of buying the stuff I needed by making Ollie pick it up on his way home from work. He couldn't help me now, though. "It's gotta be better than one of those diaper-things," I tried to tell myself, eyeing the plastic applicator that housed what seemed to be to basically be some cotton swabs. According to the box, that would be enough to soak up the blood, when it started. "Assuming my ..." I swallowed hard. "... 'flow' isn't too heavy." A shudder ran through me just at the idea that there might be too much blood gushing out of me to defend against. Ugh ... that just wasn't how life was supposed to be. I wasn't hurt. I shouldn't be bleeding. I would be soon, though, and I definitely wanted this thing in the way of it when it happened. "It doesn't look that bad. Pretty small. Just gotta ... stick it in and push the plunger," I told myself, and not for the first time. I'd voiced that sentiment repeatedly going all the way back to when tampons were just something on my computer screen. Now, I was holding one in my hand, and my panties were around my ankles. Everything was ready for the final plunge except my hand wasn't moving. "Just fucking do it already!" I growled, forcing myself to start moving. I managed to get my hand all the way down between my legs before it froze again. My thighs reacted to its presence, tensing enough to quiver slightly. My hand was shaking a bit as well. Neither wanted what was about to happen. Fuck, I didn't either, but it had to be done Flinching in preparation, I shoved past that hitch, guiding the applicator into the proper location. A twitch jolted through me as the cold plastic made contact, and my efforts nearly halted again. Somehow, I kept moving, slowly working the thing in until I felt the touch of my fingers as well. That was the sign for the plunger, so I slammed it down then yanked the plastic out, to immediately toss in the trash. A deep breath shuddered its way into me then out of me before I declared, "There, that wasn't so bad. I can hardly even feel it now." Except, hardly wasn't the same as not at all. I could feel the thing inside of me. It was hard for me to ignore the string connected to it that dangled out as I hurried to get my panties and shorts back into place to hide what lay between my legs. Only then did the task really feel behind me, except for a tiny niggling of dread about how I'd have to take it out to replace the fucking thing in a measly eight hours, and that was the longest wait allowed. It recommended doing so sooner. "Whatever. Done with it for now," I said, trying to shove all thoughts of tampons and periods from my thoughts. It was an impossible effort, though. Just as I reached for the bathroom door, a painful cramp put a hitch in my step and had my hand jerked back to rub at my abdomen. Fortunately, the cramp quickly faded back into a dull discomfort. Unlike earlier, that had become the norm, leading to more of a general feeling of misery that left me tired and sore rather than constantly doubling over in pain. There were occasional spikes, like that one, but they didn't last long. It was still awful, though. Plus, my tits hadn't gotten any less tender. Fucking periods. With the pain passed, I again tried to leave everything behind me, but it was still impossible. I barely managed to get outside and take a step before Ollie's voice ambushed me from the living room. "How'd it go? Get everything uhm ... working right?" "No, if everything was working right, I wouldn't feel like shit," I spat as I trudged into the living room. There, my roommate had already taken the couch, so I flopped into one of the other chairs. "Well, I won't say that's right, but I think it is normal," Ollie pointed out. "Normal would be having a dick again," I grumbled, shifting in my seat. My usual legs-spread slouch just wasn't comfortable, so I tried bringing them together and sitting at an angle instead. That was a little better. Meanwhile, a laugh burst out of my friend, yanking my attention back to him with a glare and hissed, "What?" Still chuckling, Ollie shook hi shead. "Nothing, it's just ... let's just say that your voice made that sound far from normal." "Ugh, well normal wouldn't involve that, either," I sneered as I pulled my legs up onto the chair with me while laying my shoulder against the armrest. "True enough," my friend conceded. Not bothering to answer, I just curled up a little tighter in my chair. Maybe I should just go to sleep there. It seemed as good a place as any, and I was pretty tired. Plus, if I was really lucky, maybe when I woke up I would find out that this was all just some terrible nightmare. "I think I'm gonna order us some pizza," Ollie remarked out of nowhere. "Hmm?" I hummed as I lifted my head sleepily to see my roommate getting out his phone. "What now?" "Pizza," Ollie repeated before looking up from his phone to raise an eyebrow. "Unless you wanted to get out and do something tonight? Laura's busy with friends, so I'm free." "Oh ..." I mumbled, face screwing up at the very idea of trying to go somewhere. "No. Pizza sounds good." "Maybe a movie or two to go with it?" Ollie proposed. Nodding, I dug a little deeper into the chair so I could use the armrest like a pillow. "Mmm ... okay ..." *********************************************** *********************************************** Quiet, darkness, and a stiff body greeted me when I woke. It took a moment of dazed drowsiness before I started piecing that together. The biggest clue was actually the tight confines of the chair that I was lying in which made it impossible to straighten up or stretch. I had to shift my position before I could extend my legs and sit up. Doing so sent the blanket covering me tumbling into my lap. I hadn't even noticed it before, and thinking about it, I couldn't remember where it came from. Prodding at it made me think it was my bedspread. Had I gotten up to get it at some point? I didn't remember much after pizza. "Whatever. You're comin' with me," I mumbled, gathering the blanket up before shoving myself to my feet. The plan was to go to bed, but my body's demand for a stretch interrupted that. That, in turn, was interrupted by a cramp that took me from fully extended to slightly curled up and hissing, "Ahh ... fucking periods." The pain itself passed quickly enough, but it left an impression behind ? one I really wanted to not have. Unfortunately, once thought about, I couldn't unthink it. The box had been pretty clear about not keeping one of ... those things in for more than eight hours. I didn't know how long it had been, but there was no way that dinner time to morning was eight hours, so I'd have to replace the one that felt like I'd just put in there if I wanted to go to bed. "Ugh ... why not just kill me?" I asked, but the darkness around me had no answer to my pleas. Whatever sadistic fuck was out there probably thought this was hilarious. Sighing, I tossed my blanket over one shoulder to trudge back to my room. There, I deposited it on the bed, wishing that I could just flop down there with it. I had one more stop to make, though, so I spun back around to march into the bathroom. Experience didn't make the second time any better. In fact, the need to retrieve the previous one made it worse. It even made it take a little longer as I slowly and apprehensively tugged it out and tossed it away. Then, I went through more of the same getting a new one in. At least, there wasn't any blood ? yet. Maybe, that wasn't even a good thing. The sooner I started bleeding, the sooner this shit would be over with. "Can't believe I have to actually look forward to leaking blood," I muttered, adding a sigh and shake of my head. However, that was exactly what I'd come to. Once I got that disgusting business out of the way, I trudged back to my room and crawled under my blanket. I burrowed as deep into it as I could as if it could not only keep me warm but keep reality at bay. Surprisingly, it sort of worked, because, despite sore tits, cramps, and having already slept four hours, it seemed to be only seconds before I drifted off. *********************************************** *********************************************** Chapter 29 "Disgusting," I spat as I tossed the red-stained mess in the trash. It was just one of many such things I had discarded over the last couple of days. Sighing, I shook my head and reached for the box of tampons to get another one in place. This period nonsense had taken quite a number of them. Many had been wasted as it had taken a couple of days from my first morning with cramps to the one where I first saw blood. It had been a revolting shift, but disturbingly, in the end, a welcome one. Around that time, the cramps, tenderness, and fatigue passed. I now felt pretty good, other than the nausea that came every time I was faced with the fact that I was currently leaking blood. However, while it was revolting, it was also shockingly slow. There was no sickening gush of fluid shooting out of me. Mostly, it seemed to be little more than a few drops at a time, just enough to stain the pristine white of a tampon red. Even at its worst, it didn't seem to be close to overwhelming the product I'd bought. I supposed that meant my 'flow' was 'light'? "Or it's luring me into a false sense of security before it explodes," I muttered, only half thinking it was ridiculous. In so many ways, this body felt like some massive asshole just waiting for me to get comfortable before springing its next prank on me. After all, being a chick that was this hot should have been easy. Men were supposed to worship me, and the world was supposed to cater to me. So far, all I'd gotten were a bunch of stares and a few free drinks. It had been a chore just to find clothes that would fit. I couldn't really work out or hang with my friends anymore. Plus even when I tried to use all the attention ... Feeling my eyes start to burn, I growled, "No! Stop it!" under my breath and gave my head a vicious shake to force my head clear. I wasn't going to let this body drive me to crying in the bathroom over the shit it had put me through. With renewed determination, I quickly finished up then shoved myself to my feet and washed my hands. Right above the basin, though, was a mirror, in which I couldn't help but see the beautiful redhead whose brilliant, green eyes looked a little red and wet, clearly not that far from tears. Her face then twisted into a sneer before I spun away to march out of the room. Wiping clean but still wet hands on my skirt, I turned toward the living room. My laptop laid on the couch within, waiting for me to get back to work. That was exactly what I wanted to do, to dive into some project for my boss just like nothing had changed. Just as I reached the end of the couch, there came the sound of the front door opening, followed by that of someone entering the apartment. Stopping, I turned that way just before my roommate came into view. All of that was normal except for the box he had tucked under one arm. Stopping as well, Ollie smiled at me and bobbed his chin. "Hey. How'd your day go?" "Fine," I answered, tilting my head toward what he was carrying. "What's in the box." "Oh. I don't know," my friend answered as his gaze dropped to the container. At the same time, he fished it out from under his arm to offer it to me. "Your boss's current assistant dropped it off. Said it was for you." "Really?" I remarked, brow furrowing even as I stepped forward to take the package. "You didn't ask her what it was?" "No, I did," Ollie replied. "But, she didn't know either." "Huh ..." I mumbled, peering at the box for a moment. It wasn't very big, just a rectangle of plain cardboard a little over a foot long. "I'm guessing from your face that Mr. Johnston didn't let you know to expect it," my roommate commented. I shook my head. "No. I haven't talked to him since ... Oh no ..." Ollie cocked an eyebrow at that last bit. "Oh no? Why oh no?" "Because the last time we talked, he asked me my shoe size," I answered, now staring at the box with dread. After all, the conversation had involved more than just my shoe size. It had also involved the reason why my boss needed it ? to get me shoes to go with my dress, and this box was just about the right size for shoes. "Ah," Ollie acknowledged, clearly having come to the same conclusion. "Well, I guess I should start on dinner, so you can get practicing." Yanking my eyes up, I narrowed them at my currently smirking roommate. "I don't want to practice." "I think you want to spend this party of yours tripping over yourself even less," Ollie countered. "Besides, I can't imagine you've committed this far just to waste your boss's money now." A wince tightened my face at those arguments, but they were too solid for me to deny. It was too late to say no. Yes, it had technically started as a favor I was doing for Mr. Johnston, but given the thousands of dollars he'd spent, it had certainly become an obligation. Maybe, if he wasn't someone I cared about, but I liked my boss, and he'd been a big help with everything that had happened. Snarling, I spun away to trudge back to my room. The sound of Ollie's chuckles following me made me slam the door closed when I got there, but I doubted that did anything to wipe that fucking smirk off his face. I did lock the door, though, just to make sure that there was no way he could claim that I'd left it open like the last time he'd peeked in on me teetering about. With my solitude assured, I tossed the box onto my bed to go grab some scissors from my desk. The tool made short work of the tape holding the thing closed, allowing me to tear the top open. Much to my dismay, I was spot on. Inside was a shoebox with a note on top with my name on it. "Fucking ... ugh ..." I sighed at the sight. Still, I reached out to grab the note, flip it open, and read, "Your tiny feet made this tough, but I managed to find something that I think will be perfect. Make sure to bring them with you to your final fitting tomorrow, because Anna will want you to wear them for it." Rattling my throat, I smashed the note in both hands then chucked it in the trash. Of course, that didn't change anything. The shoe box was still waiting for me when I turned back around, pulling another sigh from my lips as my shoulders slumped. When I removed the lid, I found what I had expected and dreaded ? a pair of heels. They were twin spikes of pale pink attached to shoes that were just arched soles and a few leather straps of the same blush-like hue. They looked pretty high, too, teeteringly so. "Three inches?" I was surprised to read off the side of the box. The things certainly seemed taller than that, especially once I got one of the shoes out and held it in my hands. I could only imagine how ridiculous they would feel when I was precariously balanced atop them, but that was exactly what I was going to have to do. After all, Ollie was right. I needed to practice. "I never should've agreed to any of this," I muttered as I spun around to drop my butt onto the bed. That way I wouldn't have to balance while I was trying to put the fucking things on. Of course, there was another problem in my way, namely the tight skirt I was currently wearing that made it hard to lift my feet up ? at least the way I normally did. Instead of spreading my legs and lifting up a foot to set across the other knee, I had to cross my legs and pull the other foot up into the air. That position was pretty hard to balance in, especially while I was fighting to get my feet into the web of straps that constituted the shoe. I failed the first time by tipping over onto my side where I managed to catch myself with my elbow. With that stabilization and a little more effort, I finally got one shoe on, but that immediately created weird sensations. The shoe itself felt strange on my foot. Not like it didn't fit. No, it was clearly the right size, it was just bizarre, like wearing sandals that were peculiarly bulky and heavy. The issue only grew worse when I tried to set the foot on the ground and the heel forced the appendage into a steep arch that was very awkward to maintain. Trying to ignore that, I grabbed the other shoe, repeating the fight to get it on. This time, it was a little easier, accomplished on the first try. Then, I set that foot down next to the other. That brought me to the moment of truth where I shoved myself up onto the heels and ... Immediately, it was obvious that this wasn't going to work. I never got to the point of being balanced. My upward momentum played out before I got close to equilibrium, sending my ass dropping right back to the bed. "Fucking, God damn, fucking, argh!" I belted out, slamming little fists against the bed as well. They didn't stay fists for long, though. No, I'd been through plenty of fucking shit with clothes by that point to only become more driven by my rage. A flick of my wrists put my palms down against the bed and then I gave myself a much more forceful and forward-angled shove. This time, I got upright, my weight settling over my heel-clad feet. As soon as I did, my hands shot out to the sides to help me balance as I teetered a bit on the unfamiliar footwear, but I didn't fall. I managed to not even stumble, which was a good thing, given that, between the heels and my current skirt, that almost assuredly would've led to a fall. No, it was just a moment of instability before I settled into a precarious, but currently stable, position. "Okay, I'm up," I stated the very obvious, still pretty intent on just keeping my balance. That was actually something of a challenge. It was a lot like standing on the tips of my toes except that I couldn't adjust the height of my heels to keep my balance. The shoes forced a three inch gap between heel and floor. That did allow me to put a little weight back rather than have it all on my toes, but only a little. It didn't take much before I felt myself start to tip backward and have to quickly correct lest I fall back to the bed again. "Now, I guess I take a step?" I postulated before hesitantly lifting one foot. Balancing on the other was ... okay. It wasn't until I had to extend that raised appendage and tilt my weight forward that I had a problem. The spiked heel caught the ground way earlier than I expected, and the awkward angle of my foot made it hard to correct. That left a lot of my weight suddenly resting on a tiny, precarious point, and ... A yelp escaped my lips just before I hit the ground with a carpet- muffled thump. That wasn't enough to keep my wrist from aching as I awkwardly caught myself on one hand. The effort diverted my fall to the side a bit, leaving me twisted on the ground so that my hip was on the floor while both of my hands held up my upper body. "Ah ... fuck ..." I hissed as I lifted the hand I'd hurt to give it a few test twists and turns. It was sore, but the movement seemed to help loosen it up a little, so nothing serious. It was still fucking ridiculous that I could've hurt myself over a pair of fucking heels. "Fuck this!" I huffed as I shifted about so that I could reach back and pry the shoes off my feet, chucking them away from me in turn. Once my feet were free, I shoved myself back to feet that now worked perfectly fine, having no trouble at all carrying me to the door. Yanking it open, I stormed out, slamming it behind me as if those fucking shoes would care. Then, without so much as a word to or acknowledgement of my grinning, snickering roommate working in the kitchen, I marched over to the couch, plopped down, and grabbed my laptop to get back to work. *********************************************** *********************************************** "That's it?! Just walk heel to toe, take small steps, and practice?!" I demanded rhetorically. After all, the screen of my laptop had no other answers to offer really. Well, there had been a suggestion to start with shorter heels, but I didn't own any. I only owned this one pair and I didn't plan to buy any more of the ridiculous things. Huffing in contempt, I shoved the computer off my lap and onto the bed beside me. That freed me up to tug those fucking heels back on and shove myself to my feet. I wobbled slightly as I got up, but only for a moment. Once I was settled, I took a long deep breath before shooting it out in a long, exasperated sigh. The videos I'd found might not have had much to say, but that didn't change the fact that I had to learn. Apparently, the only way to do that was to spend a lot of time tripping over these fucking things. "Hmm, small probably means like what I can do in one of my pencil skirts," I mused. Over the last couple of weeks, I'd gotten fairly familiar with the limits of those particular garments. I'd even been wearing one in my earlier attempt at heels. I'd changed out of it for this one, though, hoping that without it in the way, I might at least be able to correct myself if I found myself about to take another fall. Carefully, I extended one foot, making sure to not catch it on the floor until I'd reached the proper length for a step. Then, I set it down and started to shift my weight forward. Beneath me, the narrow spike wobbled a bit and my ankle twitched, but I didn't topple. Instead, I rolled forward onto my toes ? my first successful step in heels. "Fuck that feels so awkward," I muttered, looking down at my feet in their ridiculous footwear. If I was being honest, they looked great, but they certainly didn't feel it, and I couldn't imagine they ever would. Still, I had to get through at least one dinner in the things, so best to get to it. For the next several minutes, I paced back and forth in my room, slowly acclimating to the heels ? very slowly. No step felt even close to smooth, but I did manage to eliminate my tendency to wobble on the heel whenever I shifted my weight onto it. That was just a matter of judging the balance of the thing, and keeping my ankles from rolling. The method for acquiring the sultry grace most women seemed to have in the things, though, remained a mystery to me right up until my phone dinged out the arrival of a text message. "Ugh, what now?" I grunted as I spun to go grab my phone, an act that I undertook a little too hastily, causing a precarious wobble before I caught myself. That earned my fucking heels a sneer before I continued on to grab the phone. "Your roommate deliver the package I gave him?" the screen said, displaying the message from my boss. "Yes," I typed out curtly and sent it off. "Like what was inside?" a follow up question asked. "No," I offered just as bluntly in return. A laughing emoji mocked my answer, followed by, "You will eventually. Heels are a girl's best friend." Hacking in disgust, I chucked the phone on my bed and tossed a glare down at the shoes I was wearing ? shoes that were awkward and constantly trying to trip me. "Best friend my ass." *********************************************** *********************************************** "Suck in your gut, you stupid girl!" Ms. Froche barked from behind me. "I don't have a?" I started to protest. "Suck!" the dressmaker roared me into silence. A sigh leaked from my lips, but I did as I was told, sucking my tiny, gutless waist in even further. There was a sharp tug on the zipper a moment later, yanking it a good chunk of the way up my back. As it did, it yanked the stiff top of the dress around me, pressing into my waist like a rubber glove somehow made of inflexible metal. "Now breathe out or I'll never get this up over those ridiculous things you call breasts!" Ms. Froche snapped impatiently. This time, a growl rattled in the back of my throat as I tossed a sharp look back over my shoulder, but all that did was earn me a smack on the back of the head. "Ow!" "Do what I tell you!" the woman chastised. Rolling my eyes, I did what I was told to do, letting out all the air in my lungs in a big, heavy sigh. Well, the last bit was more a strangled yelp as the dressmaker yanked the zipper the rest of the way up my back. That in turn had the dress clamping down on my chest, squashing my tits so that they muffined upward, looking about ready to pop out of the top. It also squeezed my ribs tightly enough that there was no way I was going to be able to take a deep breath as long as I wore the fucking thing. "There," Ms. Froche declared as she switched from standing behind me to circling around to look me over. "Yes, good, good, just as I hoped ..." "Truly a masterpiece, Anna," Mr. Johnston remarked. "It not only perfectly captures her radiant charm and ... overflowing bounty but compliments and enhances each beautifully." "Oh, you're too kind, Gregory" the dressmaker answered, waving a hand modestly. "But you also have an excellent eye. It is only a shame that my work is to be worn by someone so ungrateful and disobedient." "Hey!" I protested. "Quiet girl!" Ms. Froche snapped at me, like I was an obnoxious child who was interrupting the grown ups while they were talking. Eyes narrowing, I rattled out another growl before jerking my head away. Whatever. I didn't care about their pretentious fashion diva bullshit. What I did care about was what I was going to have to endure Saturday evening in, and while it felt like it was trying to crush the life out of me, it did look incredible. In the mirror, I found myself wrapped in a stunning dress of shimmering, rose-gold satin ... or silk ... or chiffon or ... The woman had tossed out many fabric names, and I neither remembered which she'd settled on nor knew one from the other. Silk was the only one that guy's clothes were even made out of, and not much that was meant for straight guys. I couldn't remember wearing any outside of a pair of silk boxers that I hadn't liked very much. However, right now, I liked the feel of whatever this cool, smooth fabric was, and it certainly looked good on me. Of course, it wasn't really the dress so much as the woman in it that really made it look good. The garment was strapless and low cut, but it was my massive tits that were bulging enticingly in the top. It was my tiny waist and deliciously rounded hips and ass that the shimmering fabric clung to. It was also my flawless legs that were revealed by the thigh-high, cut away slit in the ruffled hem. Altogether, it was much like my boss had said, a vision of overflowing bounty. "I'm not sure if you'll even need to make any final adjustments," I heard my boss remarked. "I will, but only a few minor changes," Ms. Froche replied. "Although, I would really like to tighten it up more around the bust, really squish those melons of her in there." "What?!" I blurted, twisting about to stare at the woman in surprise. I could barely breathe already. If she made this thing any tighter, it would actually kill me. My reaction earned a condescending eye roll from the dressmaker. "Relax, you stupid girl. I said that I would like to, not that I was going to," she dismissed my concern before turning back to Mr. Johnston. "I'm sure she'll be suitably impressive even without that particular tweak." "I certainly think so," my boss agreed as he took the woman's hand and bowed over to kiss its back. "My thanks as always, Anna." "Oh, stop," Ms. Froche huffed dismissively as she pulled her hand away, but she did so with slightly flushed cheeks. "You know I'm always glad to work with you, Gregory. I hope you'll continue to bring such inspiring business my way." "I intend to bring as much as I possibly can," Mr. Johnston replied. "Good," the dressmaker spat curtly before whipping about to bark at me, "Now get out of that before you ruin it! I have alterations to finish!" *********************************************** *********************************************** Chapter 30 "Come on. Come on. Get ... up ... you ... fucking ..." I demanded as I struggled harder and harder to get the zipper on my back to slide up. It just wasn't going to happen, though. I could reach it, but doing so thrust my chest out, making it take up space that the dress just didn't have to spare. In fact, I was pretty sure that Ms. Froche made it even tighter around my chest than it had been at my fitting. "Fuck!" I finally belted out when I gave up and let my hands drop out from behind my back. A heavy sigh followed as I stared at my reflection in the mirror, trying to figure out what I was supposed to do. However, nothing I could think of was going to make it possible to do this on my own. The dress's maker had zipped it up for me last time, though, so hopefully with some help it would be possible. I glanced back over my shoulder at the door to my room. Beyond was the apartment with its lone other occupant. If I wanted help, he was the one I was going to have to get it from. Letting out another heavy sigh, I spun the rest of the way around to march over to the door, yank it open, and shout, "Ollie get in here!" With that done, I turned to walk back over to the mirror. A couple seconds later, my roommate arrived with a normal, "What's ..." that quickly trailed off before the second word slipped out of his lips. Glancing back, I smirked at the sight of my friend. He was wide-eyed and slack-jawed as he stared at my back. Well, he was probably staring at my ass. The dress didn't flaunt it quite as much as my tits, but it still looked great. "I understand why you're doing it, but I didn't call you in here for staring," I taunted, expecting the usual denial. I didn't get it. Still looking pretty stupefied, Ollie lifted his gaze to mine and breathed out, "You look incredible." Taken aback by the response, I lost a beat where all I could do was stare back in surprise. Then, I broke away, ripping my attention back to the mirror, a mirror that showed unusually flush cheeks. It was probably because it was so hot in here. "Ahem, anyway, I don't need you for compliments either. I know I look good," I declared as I yanked my hair forward over my shoulder to clear access to my back. "I need you to finish zipping me up. This dress is too tight around my tits for me to do it on my own." "Too tight?" Ollie repeated back in confusion. "Wasn't it custom made to fit you?" "Oh, it was custom made alright, but by a fucking sadistic bitch who was fascinated by the idea of squishing my tits," I explained. "She didn't seem to be a big fan of letting me breathe either." "Wow ... what did you do to piss her off?" Ollie inquired. "Nothing! She was just a bitch from the get go!" I exclaimed in my defense before gesturing at my back. "Now come on! Will you zip this stupid thing up already." A chuckle preceded my roommate's assenting, "Sure thing." As my friend approached, I took a deep breath then let every last bit of it out, trying to compress myself down to the dimensions the dress demanded. Even then, Ollie struggled a bit getting the zipper up the rest of the way. Yep, it definitely felt tighter than before. "There. Got it," Ollie leaked out once he was finally done and could step back. "Jeez that was rough." "Try being the one wearing it," I muttered while trying to wiggle around in the dress in the hopes that it might loosen up. It didn't. I also couldn't wiggle very much. My back was almost completely frozen in place. I couldn't bend forward or backward more than a few degrees. The same was true of trying to twist side to side. "I'm glad I'm not," Ollie comisserated. "You look like you're about to explode outta the thing." "Yeah, it is an impressive effect, isn't it?" I remarked as I turned around to face my friend, albeit I didn't look at him. Instead, I looked down at the melons bulging up from the dress's neckline. Was it even still called that if the line in question was almost halfway down my tits? "I'm sure if there's no open bar you won't have to worry about paying for your own drinks," Ollie joked. "Yeah, probably not," I agreed with a chuckle. "Anyway, thanks for the help." "No problem," my roommate replied. "Need anything else?" I shook my head. "Nah. I've only got shoes left, and I should be able ..." Trailing off, I rested a hand on my waist. "Uhm ... actually, I may still need you." "With shoes?" Ollie question. "I can't bend in this thing! Okay?! So just ... hang on!" I exclaimed, gesturing at my friend to stay there as I walked over to the bed. The box with my heels was resting there, but I didn't worry about that straight away. At first, all I focused on was just sitting down. While it was a little awkward without being able to bend at the waist, it wasn't too hard. Getting my heels on was pretty similar. I couldn't bend down to get them on, but the slit in my dress allowed plenty of leg movement to bring my feet up into my reach and slip the things on. "High heels and a ball gown," Ollie remarked, shaking his head. "And what's wrong with that?" I demanded as I shoved myself to my feet. That proved the most awkward feeling of the tasks related to my shoes, but still not a problem. "It looks amazing, right?" "I can't argue with that," Ollie conceded. "It's just ... " He never finished that thought, choosing to trail into another shake of his head as he segued, "Anyway ... seems like you don't need anymore help, and I have my own thing to get ready for tonight, so I'm gonna go do that, I think." "Okay, thanks for the help, and have fun with Laura tonight," I offered in return. Nodding, Ollie gave me a quick, "Hope you have fun, too," before he slipped out of my room and into his own. With my roommate gone, I turned to walk back over to the mirror. I'd had some time to practice, but I still didn't feel comfortable in the heels. Regardless of that feeling, when I watched myself walking in the mirror, I didn't see anything wrong. It wasn't the sexiest or most graceful walk I'd ever seen, but my steps were smooth, and there was plenty of enticing sway to my hips. "High heels and a ball gown," I muttered, shaking my head at my reflection despite how stunning the woman there looked. It was still just hard to believe that she was actually me, that I was stuck this way. "At least, I'm hot ..." The sound of my phone dinging out a text message thankfully pulled my attention away from the mirror. Rubbing at my eyes, I spun about and ... well, I wanted to march, but in these heels there was pretty much only stomping and sashaying as options, and the former felt even more awkward than just walking. That left the latter to bring me over to grab my phone. "On my way up," was all the message from my boss said. Furrowing my brow, I muttered, "On his way up? Why?" No reason came to mind, so all I could do was shrug and shift back to getting ready. I started by walking back over to the mirror to check my appearance one last time. My hair was clean, brushed out, and spilling neatly over my shoulders like silken flame. I'd squeezed myself into the fucking dress and put on those ridiculous heels. Everything looked good. "That just leaves this," I mused, holding up my phone. As I did, I glanced between it and my tightly packed cleavage. "Doesn't look like there's room in there tonight," I remarked, glancing about for some other option, but not finding any. There was nowhere else to squeeze it into on this dress, I didn't own a purse, and there was no way I could get away with carrying a tote bag to a fancy event like this. "Hmm ... maybe I can get Mr. Johnston to hold onto it?" Unlike my dress, his attire would include pockets. Undoubtedly, there would be more than enough of them at that, meaning he could spare one for my phone. Just as I came to that conclusion, the sound of knocking reminded me that my boss was on his way up. I started to take a hurried step to spin myself around, only to wobble precariously in my heels. Practice had not yet made perfect, after all. Forcing myself to slow down, I made my way out of my room and off to the door. My previous haste was quickly forgotten, lost to the feel of the back and forth swing of my hips combined with smooth, cool fabric swishing across my legs. It was an ... odd sensation that held my attention all the way to the door. "Hello, Mr. Johnston," I greeted with a smile and a nod as I opened the door. Mirroring my expression, my boss nodded back. "Good afternoon, Billy. You look lovely." Not really sure what to do with the compliment, I mumbled a quick, "Uhm ... thanks," before adding, "Y'know, you didn't need to come up. I could've gotten down to your car on my own." "I'm sure you could have," Mr. Johnston agreed. "But we still have your makeup to do." Leaning back slightly, I screwed my face up in confusion. "Makeup?" "Mmhmm," my boss hummed out a confirmation as he hefted the box I just now noticed he was holding in one hand. "Don't worry. I figured you wouldn't have any of your own, so I brought everything we might need." "But ... I ... " I began, floundering for a bit until I found, "I don't need makeup," as an excuse. "Psh! Nonsense!" Mr. Johnston rejected with a wave of his hand. "It is not! I'm fucking hot!" I insisted defensively, only to get my boss to twist his brow with obvious skepticism. "I am!" "I'm not arguing that you aren't beautiful enough to go without cosmetic aid, but no one is so beautiful that can't benefit from some," Mr. Johnston countered with another wave of his hand, this one shooing me backward. "Now, come. Stop standing in the way. We only have an hour to get you ready." "An hour?! For makeup?!" I exclaimed as I fell back and to the side so that my boss could enter. "No, it shouldn't take that long," my boss assured me, or at least, he seemed to until he added, "But we need time to do something about your hair, too." I blinked in surprise before blurting, "What's wrong with my hair?!" *********************************************** *********************************************** "Don't touch!" Mr. Johnston sniped as he smacked the back of my hand. "You'll smear it." Immediately, I went from nearly touching the dark shadow that had been painted over my eye to shaking my hand. "Ow. You could've just said so." "In my experience, that would just make you want to do it more," my boss answered while repacking the box of beauty products he'd been using. "This way, you'll remember that there are consequences." "Whatever," I muttered, but he wasn't entirely wrong. Knowing I couldn't touch made my eyes feel itchy. "What if I need to rub my eye for some reason." "Don't," came the blunt response. "Whatever is bugging you will go away on its own after a while." Okay, now my eyes were definitely itchy. "But what if it?" "No! Touching!" Mr. Johnston cut me off, with sharp, clipped certainty. "Fine ..." I relented, clamping my hands together in my lap and trying not to squirm. That wasn't easy to do. It wasn't just eyeshadow that adorned my face. My lips were coated with makeup as well, which like my eyes, I'd been told not to touch ? well, lick. At least with them, I was allowed to roll my lips against each other. With my eyes there was nothing I could do. Actually, I could have wiped it all off, except for one little problem. My boss had been right. Even as beautiful as I thought I was, the makeup did ... accentuate things. The darker eyes and gleaming lips lent a more mature and sensual appearance to features that normally looked somewhat young and innocent ? at least in comparison. Was it needed? No, I was hot either way, but I was sexier with makeup. The new hairstyle that accompanied the makeup produced a similar impression. The fiery locks looked great just hanging loose, but some careful teasing and artful pin placement had created a flowing style that not only looked more elegant, but kept hair from falling into my eyes. That was always a plus with me. A slight chuckle interrupted my inspection. "I can understand getting lost in the stunning view, but we are short on time, so I kind of need you to get up and get moving." "Oh ... sorry ..." I muttered as I carefully slipped off the high, bar chair that I'd been sitting on, lest the slight drop cause me to stumble in my heels and ruin all the prep work. "I didn't realize you were done." "Sure you didn't," Mr. Johnston remarked knowingly as he set his now repacked box where I'd been sitting and picked up the chair. "I'm going to go put this back where I found it, and then we'll get going." "Okay," I acknowledged. With that, my boss left the room, carrying the piece of furniture back to the living room. I should have just followed him. I had to go that way to leave the apartment, anyway. Instead, though, I lingered for a moment to glance at my reflection again with its fancy dress, ridiculous heels, and sexy makeup. "I guess I'm ready," I told myself after a couple of seconds. Then, I turned away from the mirror to leave my room as well. Out in the living room, Mr. Johnston had set down the chair and picked back up his beauty box. "All set? No need for a last minute potty break or anything? We have a bit of a drive ahead of us." "No," I answered at first, but then, that comment hit me and my thighs pulled together. "Actually ... one second," I corrected before turning to go back to the bathroom. A chuckle and call of, "Take your time!" followed after me. While I was trying to hurry, my attire thwarted that effort. I couldn't rush in heels without risking a fall, and even once I got to the toilet, I found myself glancing between it and my dress uncertain of exactly what to do. If I unzipped it, assuming I even could, I'd never get it zipped again. "I guess I hike all of this up?" I postulated before doing exactly that. With the dress's skirt up around my waist and my panties around my ankles, I took care of business without any particular issues. All I had to do was keep a hand on the fabric to make sure none of it slipped into the bowl. Once the bathroom break was handled, I went right back out to the living room, declaring, "Okay, now I'm ready." "Then, let's get to it," Mr. Johnston answered back, starting toward the door. I followed my boss to the door, then to the elevator, and finally to his car where I encountered my next problem. Mr. Johnston owned a very nice car ? a very nice sports car in fact. It looked awesome and was undoubtedly fun to drive, but at the moment, there was an issue. It was very low to the ground. "Need some help?" Mr. Johnston asked, catching me standing there next to the car, eyeing the low seat in front of me. "I've got it!" I huffed as I reached out to grab the roof of the car. It would give me something to help me keep my balance on these ridiculous heels, since my fucking dress wouldn't let me bend at the waist. Now, I just had to bend at the knee and ... While I didn't fall down, I suddenly found myself kneeling atop the seat cushion rather than sitting in it. That clearly wasn't going to work, but it was a start. Now that I was down, I just needed to get situated right. If I started with a twist ... no maybe like this. There we go, now just slide my legs out from under me, and then untangle the skirt, and there. "Whew ..." I sighed in relief as I finally got my body and my dress situated into the seat in a mostly comfortable way. My triumph was immediately undercut by laughter from the driver seat. "Want me to show you how to get in and out of a car in a dress and heels?" "Hey! I got in here, didn't I!" I growled in my defense. "You did," my smirking boss answered. "But it took you forever, and you looked like a complete idiot doing it." "Well sorry for not having an experience with this fucking shit!" I huffed sarcastically. Chuckling, Mr. Johnston shook his head. "I didn't ask you to apologize for it. I asked you to let me teach you how to do it, because I do have experience with it. Now, will you please let me use that experience to help you?" A beat of silence passed before I finally muttered, "Fine." *********************************************** *********************************************** Squirming about, I tried to find a comfortable position to sit in, but it wasn't easy. The top of my dress was too tight to allow my usual slouch, forcing me to sit up straight. A few clicks of the seats back got it up at an angle to support that posture, but it wasn't the end of my struggles. The bucket seat design combined with my heels to make my usual flat- footed rest impossible. First off all, it was impossible to flatten my feet in the fucking things. If the soles were touching the ground, my heels were arched up well above my toes. I could only manage that in the low seat by pulling my feet very close, leaving my knees jutting up above my lap which in turn combined with the slit to cause my skirt to fall away from my legs to an uncomfortable degree. I could fix the skirt issue by resting my feet to the side, but that wasn't really comfortable and it tilted my upper body in a way that the dress didn't want to allow, so .. "So ..." Mr. Johnston's voice cut through the quiet music, car noises, and my struggles. "What am I supposed to call you tonight?" "What?" I muttered, looking up even as I continued to fuss with my clothes to get situated. "What am I supposed to call you tonight?" my boss repeated a bit more forcefully. Caring more about my seat than the question, I turned back to my dress with a shrug. "What does it matter?" "It matters, because this party is for two of my closest friends' anniversary," Mr. Johnston explained. That information finally shifted my priorities, getting me to look up again, this time with my eyes full of accusation. "You said there wasn't going to be anyone I knew at this thing." "And there won't be, as far as I know anyway," my boss assured me. "This is a different group of friends than your father. Beth was one of my wife's friends, so I ended up getting to know her husband, Arty, very well. We don't see as much of each other as we used to, but they throw a big party every year to celebrate their anniversary, and I never miss it." "Oh ..." I muttered, scowling at the news. "Well, I've never met them before, and this is just a one time thing, so no reason to not just call me Billy like usual." "Except I apparently talk about you more than you think I do," Mr. Johnston countered with a little chuckle. "They know my assistant's name is Billy. Now, it could be a coincidence that my new assistant happens to have the same name spelt with an -ie instead of a -y, but I'm probably still going to talk about you after this, so it would be nice to give them whatever name you're going to be sticking with. You didn't seem to like Billie as a girl's name, and it was obvious that you didn't plan to go by Tiffany anymore, so ..." After blinking in surprise, I started shaking my head. "I-I, uh ... I haven't ... decided on one yet." "And I'm not saying you have to tonight," my boss told me, "But ... you will have to eventually, and we do have close to an hour drive with nothing else to do besides bounce names off one another." "But ..." I sputtered before my thoughts got together. "I don't have any idea what name I want!" Briefly glancing away from the road, Mr. Johnston raised an eyebrow at me. "You haven't thought about it at all." "No. Not really," I answered. I caught a glimpse of what sure felt like condescension before my boss turned his gaze ahead again. "Well, then, it's well past time that you did." "Hey! I still have almost two months!" I argued. A shaking head answered me. "No, you don't. I need an assistant, Billy, not some temp that I can't trust with anything. Plus, firing you made HR think there's an open position, so they want me to interview applicants." "But ..." I began much like earlier, except this time, nothing else followed it. "I need you to have your identity sorted out by the end of the month, so I can hire you or I'm going to have to hire someone else," my boss dropped the real bombshell on me. "If you need help with that, I'm willing to help, but I can't give you forever. In fact, it'll probably take some time for Adam's lawyer to sort out the legalities of it, so you probably only have a week, maybe two." A week? How was I supposed to decide on anything in a week? How was I supposed to just ...? "I'm sorry, Billy," I heard Mr. Johnston apologize. "If that's too soon for you, then know that I'll help you find something else when you're ready ? not that I think you'll need it. I'm sure you'll quickly discover that there are plenty of people who want to hire you." I was quite sure of that fact, too. It only took a glance down to see why. How many times had I sneered at the boob-blessed, brain-lacking 'assistants' of my boss's colleagues? Undoubtedly, there would be many such old, rich men looking to hire me for such a position, assuming I was willing to go through a few other positions as well. "What about Ashley?" I proposed. "Hmm?" Mr. Johnston hummed uncertainly. "As a name," I elaborated. "Oh ... hmm ..." my boss trailed off thoughtfully as he glanced my way a couple of times. "Yeah, I could see you as an Ashley." "Then call me that," I directed. Mr. Johnston raised an eyebrow at that. "You sure? We've got plenty of?" "I'm sure," I stated. Not bothered by the interruption, my boss nodded. "Ashley it is." *********************************************** *********************************************** Chapter 31 "And here we are," Mr. Johnston announced as he guided his car down the driveway of a mansion. Had I been a typical assistant, I likely would have been awed by the sight as it was an impressive structure both in terms of size and design. However, I wasn't a typical assistant, and this wasn't going to be my first time at a mansion. I had been to many over the years. After all, this was my parent's world, and they had raised me in it. Before I had dropped out of college, it had been one of their favorite pastimes to drag me around to such places in the hopes that they could pair me off with someone's daughter and use her to get me to shape up. Obviously, all they'd actually accomplished was to instill in me a disdain for all of it. That disdain was further ingrained by what happened when my boss brought the car to a stop in front of the mansion. There were a trio of young men waiting there, working as valets, and one snapped into action at our approach. The car barely had time to come to a full stop before he opened my door. When he saw me seated beyond, his eyes bugged out amusingly, but it was far less amusing when he caught himself and extended a hand my way. "A?Allow m-me, miss," the boy stammered politely. Sneering at the offer, I swatted his hand away with one of my own. "I can get out of a car on my own." For as surprised as the guy looked at my refusal, one might think I'd slapped him in the face, but I didn't care. I hadn't let my boss teach me how to do this just so I could end up relying on some dipshit valet helping me to my feet. I could do it myself, and I had every intention of doing so. Following what I'd been taught, I swivelled in my seat to get my legs out of the car. Then my hands found their positions, one down by my hip to help me up, the other on the backrest of the seat to aid my balance. After that, all I had to do was tilt my weight forward as much as I could manage and give myself a good shove. As I popped to my feet, the valet who had tried to help me finally stopped just staring. Well, he didn't stop staring. The other two that remained hovering by the valet stand started staring. However, the one near me did stumble back a couple steps to clear my immediate vicinity and path to the house. By that point, Mr. Johnston had come around his car and over to the valet, slapping keys and some neatly folded bills into the guy's hand. "Sorry about that, young man. It's been a rough day. Name's Greg Johnston by the way," he rattled off quickly before spinning around to walk over to me and take my arm. "What are you ? ?" I started to ask only to cut off when my boss gave my arm a firm, insistent tug. "Hey!" "Stop making a scene and come along," Mr. Johnston hissed under his breath at me. "I'm not?" I started another protest, but abandoned it when my boss's head snapped around to level a sharp, reproving glare my way. It was so like ones I remembered from my parents in years past, leading my jaw to tighten and my eyes to narrow. Still, I relented to the command muttering, "Fine," before letting myself be led off toward the door. Once we were a good distance from the valet's, Mr. Johnston leaned over to whisper, "Why would you refuse his help?" "Because I'm not helpless," I spat back while keeping my voice low enough to not be overheard. "I can get out of a car by myself." Stopping right there, my boss let out a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes before turning toward me. "Okay, think about this for a second. Back when you were a guy, if you'd walked up to a girl's car and offered her a hand getting out, and she slapped it away, what would you have thought about her? And be honest. Don't just try to defend your actions." Continuing for a step before stopping as well, I turned to face the man as a scowl twisted my features. "I would've thought she was a bitch." "Exactly," Mr. Johnston confirmed. "Now do you want everyone you meet to think you're a bitch?" Caught in that logic, my jaw tightened again as I forced out, "No." "And did you ever hold a door or offer to carry a package or anything like that because you thought women were helpless or inferior?" the man pressed. Again, I was forced to answer, "No." "Then, when a guy tries to help you, let him," my boss lectured. "In almost all cases, it's just someone wanting to be seen as helpful and friendly, and on the rare occasion it is a misogynistic pig, then you can slap him." A moment passed before I finally and reluctantly conceded, "Fine. I'll let guys help me with stuff." Chuckling, Mr. Johnston got started toward the house again. "You know, it's not the worst thing ever. A lot of the time, it'll actually make your life easier." "Whatever," I muttered as I turned to keep up. Despite the fact that the man wasn't walking fast at all, that was actually something of a challenge, thanks to the mincing, little steps that my footwear forced me to take. Fucking heels. Meanwhile, my boss kept right on chuckling for the couple seconds it took us to finally reach the door. Then, he fell silent as the way swung open to reveal a well-dressed servant who bowed his head at our approach. "A pleasure to see you again Mr. Johnston," the butler offered before lifting his head to toss a disapproving glance my way. "And I see you brought a guest with you this time. I'll make sure to let the staff know. Would you like the fish, chicken, or steak this evening, miss?" "Steak, medium if possible." I answered. "The usual for me, Ben," Mr. Johnston added. Dipping his head in acknowledgement, the butler stepped back to clear the way while holding the door open. "Of course. Mr. and Mrs. Holtz are on the patio with the rest of the guests." "Thanks," my boss replied gratefully before gesturing for me to go ahead. "Ladies first." After our previous conversation, I forced out a, "Thank you," and stepped inside, but not before I tossed an irritated look at the man for the treatment. My boss just smirked as he swept into the house after me. Within, he quickened his pace just long enough to get up beside me before slowing back down to my pathetic walking speed once again. Seeing that, I tried to hurry along to force him up to a more natural pace. Immediately, I caught a heel wrong and felt my ankle start to roll. I tried to catch myself, but I never got the chance. My boss was right there in my path as I started to tip, and he wasn't so old that he couldn't react in time to catch me by the shoulders. "Careful," the man blurted uselessly as he arrested my fall. With a huffed, "I'm fine!" I shoved myself out of that grasp and back to balancing on my own. "You won't be if you twist an ankle," Mr. Johnston pointed out. "You should take it slow while you're still learning." Rattling my throat, I spun away to start off again. "Let's just find this fucking patio already." "Right this way," my boss offered with a chuckle as he stepped up beside me to guide me through the house. Not that I needed guidance. The patio was easy to find. It ran along much of the rear wall of the mansion. It just required crossing the breadth of the massive place to get there, which was something of a chore in heels. Eventually though, we reached our destination. Glass doors, one of which my boss insisted he hold for me, led out onto a raised, stone patio that overlooked the house's extensive gardens. It was a lovely view, but no one out there, including myself, was looking at it. No, the sound of the door had everyone lifting their eyes to me as I exited the house, and my eyes were staring right back. It wasn't a large group. There weren't even a dozen couples gathered out there yet. The vast majority of them were considerably older than me. A good chunk of them were clearly older than my boss. The only one that looked close to my age was a rather beautiful, blonde woman in a slinky black gown that appeared to be in her late thirties. Like me, she stood beside a man much older than her, somewhere in his early seventies if I had to guess. However, unlike me, her companion had an arm around her slim waist, showing a relationship that was more than just employer and employee. Well, I supposed there was a certain kind of 'employee' she could be. Two members of the group were not content to just stare at me and whisper amongst themselves. They were amongst the older age group, in their sixties probably. Almost immediately, they broke away from the rest of the party to come over, catching my boss and I before we could get much past the door. "Greg! So wonderful to see you!" the woman of the pair greeted with exuberant warmth as she swept forward to wrap the man she'd greeted up in an affectionate hug. "You really should come by more often." "I would, but I'm a poor guest; nothing to talk about but work," Mr. Johnston answered as he returned the embrace. After a quick squeeze the woman broke away with a dismissive, "Nonsense. We'd love to have you." "She's right," the man added as he stepped forward to extend a hand. "Besides, a job is a much more interesting topic than most of us have these days. We're at the point of mostly just swapping stories about grandkids." "Well, with any luck, I'll have some of them before too long," my boss kept up the pleasantries as he shook the offered hand. "My eldest has been trying for a few months now." "Oh wonderful!" the woman declared, clasping her hands together. "We were so worried that his wife would never agree to start a family. She seemed so dead set against it." "Edward had the same worry. He'd even talked to me about help with financing a surrogate," Mr. Johnston replied. "But she actually came to him looking to get started before he could even bring up the idea with her." "Ah, well, one can't be a model forever," the woman responded to my boss even as her gaze shifted over to me. As it did, the warmth and friendliness vanished. "Beauty fades. In the end, it's family and friends that count." Realizing I was being insulted, I started to open my mouth to retort, but my boss beat me to it. "Beth please. Such cattiness is far too rude for such a gracious hostess. Besides, you've always been on my case to bring someone." Rather than apologize, the bitch gave a snobby huff and toss of her hair. "That was because I thought you were too good a man to tarnish Linda's memory with ... this." "Hey!" I got my protest off. "Who are you calling a 'this' you ?" "Stop! Both of you!" Mr. Johnston interjected, going so far as to grab my shoulder in emphasis. Immediately, I jerked away from the touch, muttering, "She started it." The sigh that followed seemed awfully condescending, but my boss didn't give me an excuse to say more by trying to chide me. Instead, he turned his attention to the stuck-up hostess. "You are completely wrong about what's going on here, Beth. This is my new assistant, Ashley." "New assistant?" the male of the pair spoke up. "What happened to that boy that's been working for you. What was his name?" "Billy," the snobby woman supplied. "Yes! That's it!" the man confirmed. "What happened to Billy?" "He left for a new position a little over a month ago," my boss lied smoothly. "Ah, I see ..." the man acknowledged. "I did warn you that you wouldn't be able to keep him forever. The boy was too talented." Mr. Johnston nodded in agreement. "You did, but Ashley here is exceptionally qualified. I'm sure she will be able to fill his shoes quite capably." "Yes, her 'qualifications' are on display for all of us to see," the bitch sniped, glowering at my chest. "Really Greg. I expected this sort of thing from Howard and Marty, but I can't believe that you would ?" "And yet you keep assuming I am," my boss interjected sharply, causing the old broad to stiffen and fall silent. "There is nothing going on between Ashley and I beyond the professional and the platonic. Does the young lady not deserve a job she's eminently qualified for merely because she's young and attractive?" "No," the uppity woman answered, glancing my way suspiciously. "But it might have been easier to get the correct impression if she'd worn something a little less?" "Beth!" Mr. Johnston protested. "Sorry, sorry," came the absent and not particularly sincere response. However, it was quickly followed by something far more genuine as the hostess turned to me to bow her head contritely. "Forgive me, dear. At my age, I really should know better than to judge a book by its cover." After everything that the old woman had said, the apology earned little more than a skeptical eye from me. At least, it did until my boss gave my arm a nudge. "Alright, I guess I can see how you might make that mistake. Apology accepted." "Very kind of you," the woman replied before reaching out to grab my hand and pull me toward her guests. "Now come on, dear. The others are undoubtedly already embroiled in even more salacious rumor mongering, so we should hurry up and go set them straight." *********************************************** *********************************************** "Hmm, what do I want?" I mumbled as I looked at the collection of alcohol available behind the bar. Meanwhile, the bartender was staring at me, but I tried to ignore that. The drinks were already free, so it wasn't like I could get anything out of? A sudden, sharp pinch in my ass started me out of my thoughts, causing me to jump in surprise and yelp, "Ow!" Clamping a hand to my butt, I started to spin to search for who was responsible, but I barely got my head turned before an older guy walked right by me. "Scotch and soda," the man ordered as he got up to the bar, sending the bartender into action. Rubbing at my backside, I alternated between peering at the man suspiciously and glancing around at my surroundings. I noticed several people looking my way, just like there always was these days, but there wasn't anyone close enough to have pinched my butt. This fucker, though, had come out from right behind me a moment after it had happened. "Hey, you!" I barked, jabbing a finger at the pervert. Without any apparent concern, the man turned to smile at me. "Yes, miss?" "You pinched my butt!" I accused. The butt-pincher furrowed his brow in confusion. "What? I did not." "Oh really?! 'Cause there's no one else around!" I argued. "That doesn't mean I did anything," the old lech retorted. "Someone might have walked by or perhaps you were stung by some insect." "Stung by an insect?" I questioned incredulously. "You see any wasps or bees around here?!" Without so much as a glance around, the groper shrugged. "I still didn't do anything." That claim got my eyes narrowing suspiciously. The act was pretty convincing, but I was still sure that it was just an act. No one else was around, and this fucker seemed just a little too smug in his denial. Meanwhile, the bartender announced, "Scotch and soda, sir." "Thank you, young man," my suspect offered graciously as he took the drink and turned to go. Before he did, though, he glanced my way one last time to add, "It is a spectacular tush, though, so I can see why someone would want to pinch it." My jaw clenched and my hands curled into little fists at that comment. In spite of my rage, though all I could do was stand there glaring as the butt-pincher walked away. Fucker was gonna get away with it. "Miss, have you decided what you'd like?" the bartender inquired. Pulling from my thoughts, I turned to the young man working the stand only to get another idea in my head. "No, but can I ask you something? Did you see if there was anyone else behind me that could've pinched my butt?" "No, miss. If you ... got pinched, I'm pretty sure he's the one that did," the bartender affirmed my suspicions. "That dirty old fucker," I muttered angrily, shaking my head. There was nothing to be done with that information now, though. I should've asked this guy sooner. Then, I could've ... well, I would've done something. At that point, I was left to sigh and ask, "What sort of fruit stuff can you make?" Not long after that, I was sucking down a fruity rum-based beverage as I made my way back across the patio. The relatively small, intimate group of friends that had been here when I'd first arrived had swelled into quite the crowd by that point, forcing me to worm my way through the press of people, guarding my drink against bumps. Increased numbers had also been paired with increased diversity. Friends were joined by family and acquaintances, and I was no longer even close to the youngest at the party. There were a number of children, including one adorable little baby girl who was apparently pretty new to the world. Thankfully, the kids weren't running around the patio slamming into things. They mostly were off in the gardens with their mothers huddled in groups nearby to try to make sure none of them ruined their nice clothes while they played. Fortunately, the crowd didn't prove to be much of a barrier, allowing me to slip through without any serious collisions. That brought me into sight of the group, who I had left to go get a drink. Now that I had one, I intended to rejoin, but when I approached, my boss split away from the pack to catch me several feet before I reached them. "That's the drink you went to get?" Mr. Johnston questioned, raising an eyebrow as he looked at the glass in my hand. "Yeah? Something wrong with that?" I demanded. Quickly, my boss shook his head. "Nope. It's just ... more feminine than I expected." Feeling my cheeks heat up, I muttered out a dismissive, "Whatever," before shifting to, "So, why'd you leave your friends? I was coming back." "I know," Mr. Johnston replied. "I just thought you might want to find a seat." "Oh, is it almost time for dinner?" I inquired. My boss shook his head. "No, it's just. You've been on your feet for a while." "And ... what?" I questioned, furrowing my brow. "Do you think I can't handle a little standing?" "No .. .well, sort of, I guess," Mr. Johnston hedged for a moment before glancing down toward the ground. "I just figured you might want to get off those heels." "Oh ..." I mumbled, dropping my gaze down as well. It only stayed on my feet for a moment before I shrugged and pulled it back up. "No, I'm alright. They're not too much trouble when I'm just standing there, anyway." My boss arched an eyebrow at that. "Really? Your feet don't hurt?" "No ..." I answered, dragging the word out. "Should they?" "Depends on the girl and the shoes," Mr. Johnston answered with a shrug. "Gina's never had much of a problem with them, but whenever my late wife wore anything like those three inch stilettos of yours, she was usually complaining about them by the end of the night. With this being your first time wearing heels for any length of time, I thought your feet might have had enough." "Well, you thought wrong," I declared confidently before pausing for a moment to suck down a sizable gulp of my drink. "I wouldn't mind a seat if it came with some food, though. I'm starving." Chuckling, my boss gestured toward the drink in my hand. "Then you should probably slow down on that. You're having enough trouble keeping your feet when you're sober." "Hey! I'm getting the hang of 'em!" I protested. "Sure, but managing them while you're drunk is a whole different story," Mr. Johnston countered. With a dismissive huff, I shrugged off that argument. "I'm sure I could manage." "Awfully confident for someone that didn't even know how to get in and out of a car," my boss retorted. "I managed!" I exclaimed in my defense. Mr. Johnston relented with a slight nod. "You did, and I hope you've managed to have some fun, despite being constantly surrounded by the stodgy old people talking about their families and everything wrong with the world." Chuckling, I gave an unconcerned shrug. "It's not that bad. At least, guys have stopped coming up to congratulate you on sleeping with me." "Ha!" my boss belted out before shaking his head. "Sorry about all of that. Unfortunately, trophy wives are a not uncommon occurrence amongst my friends." "No worries," I brushed off the apology. "It's kinda nice to know that if I ever get sick of working for you, I can just seduce some doddering old fool into taking care of me." "I suppose that is an option," Mr. Johnston acknowledged, chuckling under his breath. Smirking, I glanced about at the assemblage of guests. "There was one other thing that this party made me realize." "Oh, and what's that?" my boss inquired. "That you don't seem to be short of company," I answered, turning back to level a pointed look at the man. "In fact, you seem to be friends with just about everyone here." "Well, that's an exaggeration," Mr. Johnston denied with apparent modesty. "I'm really only friends with the older generation, and not even all of them." "Still, you've had no shortage of people to talk to, which has me wondering ..." I began leadingly before finishing with, "Why am I here, sir? Because when you invited me, I remember you saying something about how you wanted someone around who wasn't boring." I could see the shift as my boss went on the defensive. "Well, I'm sure after listening to them you can attest that my friends are fairly boring." "Nope, not buying it," I cast aside that weak excuse. "Tell me why you actually wanted me to come to this. It wasn't 'cause you want to date me, right?" The wince that question elicited made me worry for a moment before Mr. Johnston said, "No. It's certainly not that." "Then, what is the reason?" I pressed. My boss let out a frustrated sigh before answering, "It was to get you to do something." "What?" I mumbled, brow furrowing. "Do something about what?" "About your life, Billy," Mr. Johnston informed me. "Ever since that day we talked after I got back from vacation, I've been worried about how you're handling this. When your roommate got in touch with me a few weeks ago with similar concerns, I knew?" "Ollie talked to you?!" I blurted. "Yes, he did. He?" my boss admitted. "And what?! You two schemed together to get me into a dress and heels?!" I demanded. Glancing about uneasily, Mr. Johnston gestured with his hands. "Keep your voice down, unless this is an argument you really want everyone to hear." My first instinct was to just start shouting that it was, but I bit back the urge by clenching my hands into fists. Instead, I settled for glaring at the man, seething as I spat through a rigid jaw, "How do I know they don't all know, already? That this wasn't just some fucking prank by you and my dipshit roommate, who I am going to kill when I see him again." "Calm down. It's not a prank, and your roommate just wanted to help, but he didn't know how, so he asked me," my boss tried to assure me. "And you thought this ..." I growled, gesturing down at my outfit. "... was the solution?" "No, that's ri?" Mr. Johnston started to argue only to bite off the words and recompose himself. "I just thought it would help show you that being a beautiful young woman isn't the worst fate imaginable. I know that I've always enjoyed getting dressed up for?" "I'm not you," I interrupted. "I didn't try this because I thought it would be fun to be a girl. All I wanted to do was get laid and see what all the gasping and moaning is about, and did I even fucking get that? No. I got fucking torn apart by some jackass with a monster in his pants." Suddenly, I wasn't in the midst of an argument anymore. My boss's careful reasoning vanished in a surprised gasp of, "What?" That single word combined with his stunned expression stole the heat of the moment and made it impossible to ignore what I'd just said. A beat passed where there was only silence before Mr. Johnston broke free from his shock to start to ask, "What do you mean??" "I'm leaving," I smothered the question before it could be formed, spinning to hurry away. Of course, my ridiculous fucking heels immediately tried to trip me, but I fought through a couple of staggered steps to keep going. "Wait!" my boss pleaded. He was probably getting ready to chase me down, too, and there was no way I could outrun him in these fucking things. Still, I didn't stop. I didn't turn. I just swiped a hand behind me and snapped, "Don't follow me!" Apparently, that was enough, because he didn't. *********************************************** *********************************************** Chapter 32 "Shit," I muttered before tossing my head back to chug down what remained of my fruity beverage. In that moment, I really missed the palpable burn that would've come with a harder drink, but it was all the alcohol that I had at the moment, and I certainly wasn't fucking going back inside to get something else. Fuck that party, fuck my boss for tricking me into going, and fuck Ollie for scheming with him ? fuck Ollie especially. "I'm gonna kill that fucker when I get home." There was just one problem. I wasn't sure how I was supposed to get home. Mr. Johnston had driven here, not me. I could've gotten a ride with my phone, except, I didn't have it. In the midst of all the bullshit about hair and makeup, I'd completely forgotten to ask my boss to hold it for me, so I couldn't even march back in there and demand it. I was going to have to find some other way to get out of there. Glancing back over my shoulder at the house, I twisted my face up in disdain and shook my head. I'd just left the place. There was no way I was going to slink back in there to beg for a ride from one of that asshole's friends. Despite that sentiment, it was certainly looking like there would be a way. After all, when I turned away from the house, I didn't see much in the way of options. There were lots of cars, but they all belonged to other people and ? At that moment, my eyes landed on the trio of young men that were working as valets for the evening. As guests had ceased arriving, they were off to the side, killing time until the party's end. At the moment, that involved looking at me, or at least, it did until they averted their gazes when my own landed upon them. After my day so far, the attention was irritating, but unlike the butt-pincher from earlier, it might actually be useful to me. "I can't believe I'm gonna do this," I muttered as I straightened myself up and forced a warm, suggestive smile onto my face. Once I was ready, I started toward the trio, spending every step focused on maximizing the seductive sway of my hips that came with walking in heels. Realizing that I was coming their way, the men abandoned their sloppy lounging to hop up straight. One of them even started to stammered out an apology, "S-Sorry miss, we didn't mean to?" "It's alright," I interjected, affecting a dulcet purr to add to my already honey-smooth voice. "Actually, I'm the one who should be apologizing. I was incredibly rude earlier. I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me for that." "Oh uh ... o-of course," the man answered, giving me an eager nod. I tried to make my fake smile even brighter as I replied, "I'm so glad, and I would be even more so if you could fetch my ... companion's car for me, a Mr. Greg Johnston." "Uhm ... well ..." the man hedged glancing at his comrades uncertainly. "I'm not sure we're allowed to, miss." It was very hard to keep the false facade on my face from crumbling into frustration and anger, but I managed. Instead, I transferred all of that emotion into an exaggeratedly exasperated sigh. "Oh poo ... " I mumbled, glancing briefly back toward the house before returning my attention to the young man. "... are you sure there's nothing you can do? I just need to stop by a convenience store real quick to pick up ... something I happen to ? need ? today." There was a moment where I thought the euphemism was going to go right over the trio's head, as they gave me confused looks, but then they finally caught on. Immediately, the men adopted the same air of masculine awkwardness that I always had whenever the topic of feminine hygiene came up. There was a lot of coughing, throat clearing, and a complete unwillingness of any of them to look at me. "Ah, right ... well, uhm ... I suppose we could ... make an exception?" the guy who'd been speaking proposed, glancing to his friends for confirmation. None made any argument for or again. "Oh, thank you. I'm in something of a hurry," I spoke up to defend the idea. "Right, of course ..." the guy muttered as he spun to walk over to a case full of keys and fish through them. A few seconds later, he found the one he was looking for and popped his head up to say, "I'll be right back," before dashing off toward the sea of parked cars. I spent the next minute or so, awkwardly standing there beside the two remaining valets. Neither made any effort to say anything. They just tossed uncertain glances my way until the third of their number pulled up with my boss's car. "Here you are," the man informed me over the roof of the car after he'd gotten out. "Thank you so much," I answered, laying the gratitude on thick. That didn't stop me from moving as quickly as my footwear would allow to get around the car and slip into the driver's seat the man had just vacated. Once I had, he handed me the keys then closed the door for me and hurried back over to the other valets. Inside the vehicle, I set my empty glass in the cupholder, so that I could grab the wheel, and moved my feet toward the pedals. It became immediately obvious, though, that neither option was going to work. The seat was so far back that I could barely reach either, and even after I adjusted it forward an embarrassing amount, trying to work pedals in heels was clearly impossible. "Fucking things," I growled as I reached down to strip the shoes off. First, I had to swat my dress's skirt out of the way, then twist about in the seat so that I could get my feet close enough to my hands. Then, finally, I was able to yank the obnoxious footwear off and chuck it into the passenger seat. The feel of my bare feet on the pedals was incredibly weird and not exactly comfortable, but at least, it would be possible to drive that way. With everything finally situated, I got the car started and took off, gunning it down the driveway and out onto the road. Even without the heels in my way and the seat scooted up, though, driving was still pretty awkward. I was used to sitting up higher than this, and the wheel and pedals felt a lot stiffer than usual. It all combined to make the habit of driving feel very non-habitual, but that didn't stop me from racing along the streets then onto the highway. All the while, I fumed about what had happened that day. No, it had started long before then. I didn't know exactly when my boss and roommate had started their scheming, but it had to have been at least a couple of weeks. That was how long it had been since I'd been invited to the fucking party, and in turn forced to go dress shopping, get harassed by some bitch, and then learn how to walk in fucking heels of all things. All of it was just to appease a couple of meddling fucking assholes who had no fucking clue what it was like for me. Ollie was such a fucking pussy he'd probably be nothing but a sobbing mess if our positions were reversed and my boss obviously fucking loved all this girly shit. Fucker would probably be thrilled to get stuck as Gina, so he could spend all his time either playing dress up or getting fucked by random dudes. "Yeah well fuck both of them," I muttered under my breath. "They're both just a couple of fucking cu?" That last word was lost in the sound of a police siren from very close by. In fact, it seemed to be right beyond me. I hadn't bothered to fix any of the mirrors, though, and I couldn't twist about in the rigid dress, so it took me a moment of squirming about before I could finally see the flashing lights of the car behind me. "Fuck!" I spat as I glanced about trying to figure out what I was supposed to do. Obviously, the cop expected me to pull over, but there was a problem with that. I didn't have any ID ? at all. What the hell was going to happen when the cop found out about that? Would he arrest me? Could I run? Mr. Johnston had a nice car, but it wasn't like the cop had a potato, and I wasn't some professional driver. Plus, if I got caught after running, I was definitely going to jail, and I had no fucking clue how I'd ever get out after that. "Fuck, fuck ... fuck!" I kept right on cursing, punctuating that last one by smacking my hands against the steering wheel. Then, I flipped on the blinker to pull over onto the shoulder. My only hope was trying to talk my way out of this, but what could I possibly say? Hot chicks talked their way out of tickets all the time, right? Did they just like stick out their tits and flirt? Beg? Cry? I didn't have long to come up with an answer. In less than a minute, I was stopped on the side of the road with my window rolled down. Behind me, I could see an older cop getting out of his car and walking toward me with his ticket pad out and a pen ready to start writing. He was clearly looking to give me a ticket, and to do that, he'd want my license. What the fuck was I going to say when he asked for it? "Good eve?ning ..." the cop greeted, choking over his words then trailing off. When I looked up, I realized why. The guy's eyes were aimed much lower than mine, down toward where my cleavage still appeared to be bursting out of my dress. He was lost in that mass of flesh ? at least for the moment. "Is something wrong officer?" I inquired, affecting a worried tone. "Hmm?" the cop hummed as he jerked his gaze up. "Oh, no, miss. It's just ... do you happen to know how fast you were going back there?" With doe-wide eyes, I shook my head. "No, sir. Was it too fast?" "Well ... unfortunately, yes," the man informed me. "You see the speed limit drops to sixty back there, and you were up over eighty." "Oh dear!" I gasped, affecting a wince as I covered my mouth with my hands. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea. I don't really drive this area much, and I was in a bit of a hurry." "You were? And why's that?" the officer asked. "Well ... it's kind of embarrassing ... " I answered, pretending to shyly look away. "I was at this party, and there was this silly fight with ... one of my friends, and I sort of ended up storming out ... without my purse. I was rushing back to go get it." "Ah, so you don't have any ID on you," the cop surmised. Shaking my head, I leaked out an incredibly contrite, "No, sir." A couple of seconds passed while the officer took a deep breath and blew it out before he spoke again. "Alright, well ... I think I can let you off with a warning this time." "Really? Even after I was speeding so much?" I asked as if unworthy of being released. "You were going quite fast, but it's pretty clear to me that you didn't mean any harm by it, so just make sure you're alert for street signs, so you know when the speed limit changes and keep it under it for me," the cop instructed. "Can you do that for me, sweetheart?" I gave an emphatic nod. "Yes, sir." "Good, now you have a good night, miss, and I wish you luck in finding your purse," the cop offered in farewell. "Thank you, officer, and have a good night as well," I chirped brightly. "Already am," the cop told me with a smile before he dipped his chin politely and turned to walk back to his car. Anxiously, I watched every step, not relaxing until the roof lights went off and the cop pulled off into traffic. When that finally happened, I slumped back in my seat with profound relief. "I can't believe that worked," I sighed out as I let my gaze drop to my tits. "Good job, girls." Another couple of seconds passed while I just recuperated on the side of the road from the stress of what had almost happened. Then, I finally sat up to get the car started again and carefully pulled it out into traffic. From that point on, I didn't risk a mile over the posted limit, no matter how much people honked or how many cars blazed by me. I wasn't going to count on my looks getting me out of that jam again. Even at that sluggish pace, the rest of the journey home seemed to pass quickly. Finding a place to park my boss's car, I got out, walked into my building, and got to the door to my apartment. There, I stopped, realizing I had another problem ? no key. "Fuck," I mumbled, glancing about wondering what to do. Ollie was probably still out on his date, and I didn't have a phone to call him. I didn't look like either of the legal occupants of this apartment either, so I couldn't go to the super. Well ... maybe I could. My tits had talked me into a stolen car and out of a well-deserved ticket. They might well be able to get me into my apartment. After everything that had happened, the idea of trying felt insurmountably exhausting, but also like my only option. Sighing, I glanced toward the elevator briefly before turning around to raise a hand and give the door a couple of good pounds. Then, I let my hand fall back to my side and just stared at the unmoving barrier for a bit before giving up. Leaking out another sigh, I started to turn to go flirt with? The clatter of a metal locking mechanism preceded the sound of the door being opened and a familiar male voice asking, "Billy? Party over already?" Stopping in my tracks, I slowly turned back to the door to see my roommate standing there with a confused look on his face. It wasn't a sight I was relieved to find, even if it did spare me from having to trick the super. No, the mere mention of the party and my supposed friend's involvement had rage coursing through me anew. "It is for me," I stated darkly, eyes narrowing. Ollie's confusion only grew at that. "Huh? Did something bad happen." "Yep, I found out my best friend and my boss had been conspiring together to humiliate me," I spat out. Confusion vanished as my roommate stiffened. "That's not what we were trying to do, Billy." "Huh ... I wonder why I don't believe you?" I questioned caustically. "Oh, it probably has something to do with getting fucking lied to, so you fuckers could drag me to a fucking party I didn't want to fucking go to in a dress, makeup, and fucking heels!" That accusation got a wince from Ollie. "That was Greg's idea. He thought?" "Fuck you, and fuck Greg," I cut off whatever bullshit excuse my roommate was hoping to peddle. "Now get outta my fucking way, so I can get out of this fucking get up, you fuckwads put me in." Another wince rippled across Ollie's features, but this time it wasn't paired with an attempt to explain himself. Instead, he nodded and stepped out of the way, allowing me to shove my way by him and into the apartment. Clacking heels brought me to the living room where I found a movie paused on the TV and my roommate's girlfriend on the couch. Of course that asshole was having a great time while I was off getting tricked. Fuck him. "Hey Billy," Laura offered with weak uncertainty. Rather than answer, my face just twisted with rage before I continued on, stomping my way through the living room, down the hall, and into my room. There, I slammed the door closed, hoping the stunt ruined whatever good mood had been brewing between those two out there. "Fuck 'em both," I muttered as I completed my stomping by reaching my bed. There, I was able to finally sit down and strip the fucking heels from my feet. A couple of loud thunking sounds followed as I heaved them both at my dresser. A metallic clatter came right after that as I went ahead and whipped my boss's keys over that way, too, for good measure. With the shoes taken care of, I reached around behind me, an act that made the already crushing dress get all the tighter around my chest. Then, I started fighting with the zipper, twisting and tugging and yanking at it. The damn this didn't budge, though. Nope, it was like the fucking metal had been fused closed under the strain of keeping my tits contained. Giving up, I pounded furious fists into the bed beneath me as I shouted, "God fucking damn this fucking dress!" The outburst did nothing to help the situation. The dress remained stuck on me, and there was no fucking chance that I could wiggle out of it while it was zipped up. If I wanted out of it, I'd probably have to ask Ollie for help, that fucking dipshit who was one of the reasons why I was stuck in this fucking thing in the first place. Some fucking friend he? Suddenly, I was crying, prompting another outburst of, "Damn it!" as I tried to wipe the fluid away from my eyes. All that did was stain my fingertips with eyeshadow. "Fuck!" I shrieked out, my voice cracking into a banshee-like keening that was every bit as appalling to me as the tears. What was the worst, though, was looking up from my stained fingers to see my reflection in the mirrored doors of my closet. Those mirrors showed a beautiful woman in anguish with twin strikes of makeup running down a face contorted with despair ? and rage, rage that only grew at the sight. Hissing out some animalistic screech, I ripped my gaze away. Shoving myself to my feet, I burst out of my room, crossed the hall then slammed the bathroom door behind me. I spent the next several minutes, scrubbing at my face, trying to scrape away any trace of the makeup that I'd been tricked into wearing. By the time I was done, my face looked raw and red, but I didn't fucking care. All that mattered was that it was clean. Since it was, I just spun about and repeated my furious march, ending back in my room behind a slammed door. There, I threw myself onto the bed and yanked the blankets up over me. It didn't feel comfortable at all. The bottom half of my dress got tangled up in the bedding. The top half not only kept my midsection rigidly straight, but also felt like I was trying to rest it atop a steel sheet. None of that mattered, though. I just clamped my eyes closed, denying any outlet for tears and tried to force this nightmare to its end with sleep. To Be Continued ... Author's Note: Hey, everyone. I hope this story continues to find you well. If you're enjoying it, there's still two weeks of updates left to look forward to. Also, if you're looking for more to read while we're all stuck inside, consider checking out my fantasy serial, Trials of Tannen. It's up to its ninth book, so there's plenty there to read, and it's entirely free. You can find it here: https://lightivation.wordpress.com/ Most importantly, stay safe.