2. Chapter
Bob woke to a bright light in his face. It was the sun glaring in his
apartment window. He was confused when he realized he was lying on the
floor in his living room. Why? Last night was a blank, but he didn't feel
hungover -- in fact he felt pretty good -- so why had he slept in his
clothes on the floor. He blinked a couple times and raised his arm to
shield his eyes from the sunlight. The sleeve of his flannel shirt hung
loosely on his arm and draped completely over his hand, very strange since
it normally fit snug on his forearms and came a bit short on his wrists.
He wrinkled his nose -- the whole apartment smelled of burnt plastic and
charred wood. Was there a fire? He propped himself up on one elbow to get a
better look at the room. The first thing he saw was the smoking puddle of
plastic that was all that remained of his computer. His computer! Fuck!
Encircling the ruined computer and crisscrossing the living room was a maze
of ugly black scorch marks on the hardwood floor. Shit, the landlord's
gonna be pissed, he thought.
As his sleep-dulled mind slowly considered the damage to the apartment,
memory of the previous night returned to him. With a feeling of dread he
bolted up to a sitting position and frantically swept the room with his
eyes.
"Cathy?!" he called. His voice sounded strange to him. He cleared his
throat and tried again, "Cathy, are you okay?"
His voice was still strangely high pitched, but he ignored it for the
moment, because he heard a low moan coming from behind him and to the left.
Like a hyper-alert sentry dog he whipped his head around to locate the
source of the moan. Something weird was happening, for he experienced an
unaccustomed sensation of weight from long hair swinging with the motion of
his head. Stranger yet, his vision was suddenly blocked by a curtain of
blond hair which flew over his eyes and across most of his face. He
reflexively reached up and managed to push most of the mass of hair back
from his face although several stray strands still hung over his eyes and
clung to his cheeks and mouth. But he ignored this distraction as he took
in the sight of the other person in the room.
Cathy was sprawled on the floor on the opposite side of the room. She was
on her side facing towards him. Her face was clearly visible and it was
definitely Cathy. But a Cathy who'd been transformed into a real beauty.
The differences were subtle except her hair -- which was much longer -- but
all combined they resulted in a haughty beauty. She was slimmer, perhaps
even a little taller, he guessed, based on how her ankles stuck out from
the legs of her jeans. Lovely as she was, Bob was disappointed, for she
wasn't the fantasy woman of his imagination that the demon had promised
him. Wait a minute, Bob thought with a sinking feeling, if Cathy has been
changed to look like that, then what about me - what do I look like?
With a feeling of unreality he reluctantly tilted his head downward to look
at himself. The first thing to catch his eye was a rich mass of long red
gold hair that spilled over his shoulders and fell down his chest and
almost reached his lap. As for other differences, he couldn't really see
much at first because he was practically swimming in his clothes. But the
fact that his clothes were so big on him was further verification his body
had definitely changed. He was accustomed to seeing his large belly
protruding over his belt, stretching the fabric of his shirt and straining
the buttons. Instead his clothes -- they were definitely the clothes he'd
worn last night -- hung on him like a parachute.
Wonderingly, he raised his arms from his lap to get a better look at them.
The sleeves were so long his hands were completely swallowed by them, as if
he were a little boy trying on his father's clothing. Awkwardly he pushed
one sleeve down to his elbow and stared in shock at the sight of his hand.
It was a woman's hand, slim and feminine with long delicate fingers. His
nails extended half an inch beyond the ends of his fingers. His wrist and
forearm were slender with almost no visible muscle tone and without a trace
of hair anywhere. He pulled back the sleeve on his other arm and ran his
hand over his skin, feeling how silky soft it was.
As he moved his arms around to look at them from all angles, he felt his
shirt slip off his right shoulder and slide down his upper arm. He always
wore the top three buttons open for comfort, and now the neck opening went
all the way down his arm to just above his elbow. Most of the right half of
his chest was now exposed, revealing hairless satin smooth skin tanned a
rich bronze where formerly there had been pasty white skin sparsely covered
with coarse hair. Although logically he should have been expecting it, he
was surprised by the swell of soft flesh which pushed outwards from his
chest and held up his shirt, preventing it from sliding the rest of the way
down to his waist. He grabbed his neckline with a hand once more mittened
inside his shirt sleeve and pulled his shirt away from the front of his
body. He was staring down at two large, gorgeous, womanly breasts!
"Ho-leee shit!" he breathed in a whisper as he stared down, openmouthed.
He sensed their weight on his chest now, or rather identified the sensation
as being caused by the weight of his... breasts - the concept that he had
breasts was still alien to him. Like the feel of his long hair, he'd
noticed many different sensations since waking but his brain was still in
the process of assimilating everything. And of course, even more than his
breasts, the area his brain had to do the most interpretation of new
sensations from was...
He reached down for his crotch, already knowing, and fearing, what to
expect. His hand brushed soft pubic hair - blonde he'd bet - and a pubic
mound. No cock. No balls. He gingerly inserted a finger past the outer lips
of his pussy and cautiously explored by touch. His new equipment was very
sensitive to his touch, was extremely sensitive in certain areas, similar
to how his cock had been sensitive all over but more so at the head than
the shaft, except this was even more intensely sensitive than even the head
of his cock. A wild thought went through his mind that this was his very
first time to actually touch a pussy - and it was his own!
Bob removed his finger from inside himself. He sat still, gently cupping
his smooth new pubic mound, as if to verify it was real. He mentally
reviewed everything he could remember about last night. Impossible as it
seemed, he had to accept the only obvious explanation for what had happened
to him. The fucking demon had changed him into his own fantasy woman. He
lightly stroked his downy pubic hair, that seemed proof enough to confirm
his conclusion. Just then Cathy shifted slightly in her sleep, reminding
him that he wasn't alone. Embarrassed, he removed his hand from his pants -
he didn't know how long he'd sat there with his hand on his crotch and he
surely didn't want Cathy to wake up and see him like that, she might get
the wrong idea about what he'd been doing.
He stood up and, in doing so immediately felt his body was more supple than
previously. His joints seemed to bend farther and it required much less
effort rising from the floor than it had just yesterday. As he rose he
unintentionally left his jeans and underpants behind him, they were a 48
inch waist and had been getting a bit tight on him, but now, impossibly
huge on his new body, they just slid down to his ankles. He stepped from
the pile of clothes, clad only in a shirt that fell down to mid-calf and a
pair of socks so loose they barely stayed on his feet.
Experimenting a bit with his new flexibility, he brought his leg up behind
him, bent at the knee, and twisted around and pulled the sock off, then
repeated it for the other sock. Never in a million years could he have done
that before! He stretched his arms out and bent over at the waist with his
knees straight and laid his hands flat on the floor. While still bent over
he hugged the backs of his legs and touched his cheek to his shins, and
held that position for a slow count of ten before he straightened up. He
couldn't believe how easy it was. He stretched up on his tiptoes and raised
his hands in the air, reveling in the feeling of vitality of his new body.
He felt light and energetic, and... well, he felt great, possibly better
than he'd ever felt in his entire life.
He tried to mentally catalog the differences in his body, other than the
obvious one. Throughout his contortions he kept being reminded of his
breasts. He might brush one with an arm unexpectedly, or feel the weight of
them hanging down from his chest when he bent over. That would take some
getting used to. So would his hair, he thought. It had weight - much more
than he would have thought. And whenever he moved his head or bent over it
got in his face. He never realized how much trouble long hair was for
women. Another obvious difference: he was much smaller now, but he wasn't
sure exactly how much.
He glanced upwards at the ceiling and it looked higher than normal. He used
to be able to reach up and touch it flatfooted. Now, even on tiptoe with
his arms straight up as high as he could reach, it seemed impossibly high.
He wasn't sure he could touch it at all, even if he jumped. He walked over
to the front door and looked up, he didn't think he could even reach the
top of the door jamb without jumping. Bookshelves against the wall which
had been eye level were now over his head. How much had he shrunk, he
wondered.
The clock on the wall chimed the hour and Bob was startled to see it was
two in the afternoon. If it was Wednesday then the demon had knocked them
out for over 12 hours. They only had four and a half more days until
everyone came back from Thanksgiving. He needed to figure out what he was
going to do, what he was going to tell his roommates, how to change himself
back, or how to deal with things if he couldn't. Well, first things first,
he thought. See if Cathy's okay, then we'll try to figure out what to do
next. God, I wonder how she's gonna take this?
He went over to Cathy and gently shook her. "Cathy? Cathy, wake up!"
She moaned softly and blindly tried to push his hands away. "I'm tired.
Gonna skip class. Go 'way."
"Come on Cathy! You have to wake up!" he shook her more urgently.
Her eyes flickered open, slowly focusing on his altered appearance, and she
suddenly tensed. "Where am I? And who the hell are you?"
"It's me -- Bob. Remember last night? The experiment for class? Something's
gone wrong. We've got to do something!" his voice sounded overly shrill to
his ears. Up to now he'd somehow remained relatively calm, probably due to
shock, but seeing the lack of recognition on Cathy's face seemed to make it
all so much more real, and he felt a rising panic.
"Bob?!" she looked at him like he was crazy, "Girl, I don't know who you
are but you're sure not Bob."
"It is me, Cathy! I swear! Think. Last night. That demon did this. It
changed me. It tricked me - just like you warned me."
"Demon..." Her eyes grew big and she gasped in sudden realization. She sat
up and momentarily glanced around in shocked disbelief at the havoc in the
living room. Then she turned back to Bob, skeptically studying his new
face, "Last night... I remember... the demon. But you say you're Bob? You
can't be Bob?"
"Yes I am! I told you, the demon changed me. If you don't believe me, then
look at yourself - it changed you too. Maybe not like it did me, but you
sure didn't look like this last night. Just look in the mirror and you'll
see what I mean."
With a look like she was humoring a maniac Cathy uncertainly got to her
feet and went into the bathroom to see herself. Bob followed and stood
beside her, both of them staring into the full length mirrored door of the
linen closet. He was seeing himself as a woman for the first time, but it
was a familiar reflection - he imagined this face nearly every time he
masturbated. He had the advantage of expecting to see himself as he now
was, even though it was still shocking and fascinating all at once. Cathy
had no such prior warning and could only stare at her new image in
slack-jawed amazement.
Cathy hadn't been ugly before, merely plain. Now however, she was lovely --
but still recognizably herself. It was as if someone had taken a photo and
airbrushed away all the imperfections. She was now slimmer with fuller
breasts and a narrow waist. Her face had been subtly altered with finer
features, giving her an aristocratic air. Her hair had always been coarse
and tended to frizz, necessitating that she keep it cut short. Overnight,
her hair had grown at least six inches and now it shone jet black, and lay
perfectly straight and silky sleek, with no hint of frizzies, in an elegant
blunt cut so it fell at her jawline. Her skin was flawless, milky pale
perfection which contrasted beautifully with her dark eyes and hair. Cathy
gasped in disbelief. It was as if all the tiny flaws she'd agonized over as
a teenager had been erased.
"This is just what I pictured in my head last night." She whispered while
putting a hand to her face, not quite sure if she were dreaming. "It's
real! I don't believe it! But it's real. This is exactly how I used to
imagine myself, I dreamed as a teenager that someday I'd grow up to look
like this. And it's real... I can touch my face... I can feel myself
touching my face... It must be true..." she sensed herself babbling and
stopped, self-consciously. Then the full implications hit her and she said,
doubtfully "then... you must really be Bob?" She spoke to Bob's reflection
in the mirror, totally awestruck by her own reflection and unwilling to
turn away from her idealized self for even a moment.
"That's what I've been trying to tell you," he said softly.
"But... you're a woman... you look like a woman... are you?" she looked
more closely at Bob's image in the mirror.
He nodded, and said ruefully, "Completely. At least I think so."
"Then... let me get this straight... you wished for the demon to make you a
woman?!?!" she turned away from the mirror to look at him incredulously.
"Well... not exactly..." Bob wondered what he should tell her, then
realized she was the only one who could help him, so he decided to be
honest. "Um... like I said, the demon tricked me... you warned me about
that, I know, but I didn't listen."
"Tricked you? How?" Cathy was beginning to suspect something.
"Well... it offered me a chance... to umm... have some... input into how
I'd like you to look." Bob mumbled while watching Cathy's face for her
reaction.
She was silent for a moment, chewing over what he said. Then in a sarcastic
tone she said, "How you'd like me to look?"
"Umm... yeah, that's right," Bob replied meekly.
"You mean to say you thought you had the right to decide how I look? Of all
the arrogant..." Cathy was nearly sputtering, incoherent with rage. She
chopped off her tirade, made a visible effort to collect herself, then
leaned back against the sink and insolently looked at him, letting her gaze
slowly move from head to foot and back up again. Finally, in a voice filled
with scorn, she continued, "And you thought I wanted to look like that?!?!
A simpering little tart? A blonde bimbo whore? You've spent too much time
with centerfolds instead of real women. And that's where you belong now -
with a staple in your bellybutton. Ha! Well you got your wish, Asshole -
now you can live with it!"
"I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. I was wrong. I guess I got what
I deserved." Bob felt himself wilting under Cathy's anger. His lip began
trembling uncontrollably, his chin was quivering, and he started to cry. He
was mortified to show such weakness; through many years of taunting and
slurs about his weight he'd never cried in front of anyone - he'd never
given them the satisfaction of seeing his pain - but now here he was
weeping like a baby, and he couldn't stop himself.
"Oh stop it. Tears won't help you now." Cathy tried to cling to her anger -
she felt justified - but she sensed his pain and her heart went out to Bob.
They'd become friends over the past months. He was basically a decent guy,
even if he was retarded when it came to women. He meant well. What he was
going through, well she just couldn't imagine the trauma of waking up as
radically changed as he was now. Finally she couldn't pretend aloofness any
longer and she put her arms around him and hugged him, feeling the sobs
wrack his body.
"It's okay. Shhhh." Cathy felt her anger drain away as Bob's tears soaked
her tee shirt. As she calmed down, she began to think more coherently and
guiltily remembered her own dealings with the demon last night. She'd
nearly been suckered just like Bob. "I'm sorry for yelling. I'm not mad
anymore. Calm down and listen to me a sec. I've got a confession. I was
offered the same chance as you -- to decide how you'd look. I was tempted
too. The only thing that stopped me was I kept thinking of all the stories
of how demons tricked people. So I was too scared to do anything but play
it totally straight and send that thing back to where it belonged."
Bob looked up at her. His big blue eyes were glistening and his cheeks were
streaked with tears. He searched her face, hopeful that she was truly
offering forgiveness. He sniffled once, then squeaked in a tiny voice,
"Really?"
Cathy smiled. "Really. If not for pure luck and me being scared out of my
head I might look like Antonio Sabato right now."
Bob grinned, feeling relieved she could joke about it. He wiped the tears
from his face and became very solemn. "I'm sorry Cathy. It was presumptuous
of me to think I could... well anyway, I'm sorry. You're a good friend for
understanding."
"No harm done... at least not to me. But we need to think about what we're
going to do with you." Cathy drew a deep breath and reluctantly continued,
"Much as the idea scares me, maybe we can run the spell again and change
you back? Unless... well, to be honest that demon scared the shit out of
me, and maybe it might be for the best if we didn't play with fire. You
might have fun being a woman..."
"Of course we have to change me back!" Bob was dumfounded that Cathy
apparently didn't see that was the only alternative. He sighed. "But, did
you get a look at the living room? My computer's hopeless - we need to get
a new one before we can rerun the program. And like an idiot I never made a
backup of the data for the demon program. Once I get a new computer it'll
take days to recreate everything - and I'm stuck like this till we do!"
As he spoke, Cathy looked at him standing there in a ridiculously oversized
shirt that hung down below his knees. She voiced her thought, "Well, if
you're gonna look like that for a few days, we need to get you something to
wear that you won't trip over." She studied him critically a moment, then
continued, "You're so tiny, I don't think I have anything to fit you. And
there's sure nothing of your own that will fit. You can't go out looking
like that... I should probably run out and pick you up something that you
can wear for now. Then, if we need anything more, we can go together and
you can try stuff on before we buy anything else."
Bob looked doubtful, how could she think about clothes at a time like this?
But he couldn't argue with her logic - he couldn't spend the next several
days wrapped in a sheet. "Okay... I guess. I suppose while you're gone I
can start cleaning up and see if anything's salvageable."
"Good idea. But first, we need to take your measurements so I can get your
size." She glanced at herself in the mirror appraisingly, pulled the
waistband of her jeans out, noted how much excess material she now had and
continued, "And while we're at it, you can help me check my new
measurements too. Maybe I'll buy something for myself that'll fit me a
little better."
"I suppose you're right. But do you need to go right this minute? We should
start working up an action plan on how to resolve this whole situation.
Going shopping seems a little trivial, don't you think?" Bob wanted her to
focus on the main issue and stop going off on irrelevant tangents.
"Yeah, right. You want an action plan, Bob? Okay, I can give you an action
plan. Step one, state the problem to be resolved. I'd say the problem to be
resolved is: that thing turned you into a woman! A naked woman who's
wandering around wearing a tent! You can't get into the University computer
center dressed like that. You can't go to the library. You can't go buy a
computer - which you need in order to change back. You can't even go pick
up a box of tampax, which if you dither around long enough you're gonna
need, Bob! So I say priority one is to get you something to wear so you can
take care of steps two, three and so on. Now it's the day before
Thanksgiving, Bob, and the stores will be closing down real soon and won't
reopen until Friday. So I think going shopping right now is a little more
than a trivial whim, Bob. Duh!" Cathy rolled her eyes.
Bob blushed and said meekly "I'll go find a measuring tape."
They took each other's measurements, weighed themselves and wrote it all
down. Bob was now just barely 5 feet tall, weighed all of 92 pounds and
sported a sexy 34-20-32 figure. He'd lost 16 inches of height and over 200
pounds. When Cathy read off his waist measurement Bob could hardly believe
it, his neck had used to be 20 inches! Cathy's measurements weren't as
drastically changed. She had grown an inch and a half taller to 5'11-1/2".
She'd lost nearly 30 pounds and now weighed 135. Her measurements were the
classic cliche 36-24-36, much better than yesterday's 34-28-38. She preened
in front of the mirror while Bob fussed with the tape, still not sure she
wasn't dreaming.
After they finished measuring, they stood side by side and looked at
themselves in the mirror. They made an interesting pair -- a study in
contrasts. Bob came up about even with Cathy's shoulders, she could rest
her chin on the top of his head. Cathy was long legged and svelte, with
full breasts but having the overall impression of slender elegance. Bob was
tiny and fragile looking, his bust measured two inches less than Cathy's
but appeared to be much larger on his small frame and minuscule waist. Even
their coloring was radically different. Cathy was pale, accented by
midnight black hair clipped in a precise coif with each strand naturally
falling exactly in place and eyes so dark and deep they promised mysteries
unimaginable. Bob was bronze, like he'd been working on the perfect tan all
his life, with sapphire blue eyes and golden blonde hair glinting with
coppery highlights that cascaded down to the small of his back in unruly
waves. Cathy's overall look was cool and polished, supermodel sleek,
sophisticated, and refined elegance. Bob's look was more winsome, playful
exuberance, wildly unbridled and wantonly sexual.
"Wow. You're gorgeous, Cathy" Bob broke the silence which had descended as
they stared at themselves.
"Don't you mean we are gorgeous, cutie? You make one sexy looking babe."
Cathy teased. "Now I better get going or we'll never get you anything to
wear."
*****
Bob tried to do something constructive while Cathy was gone. He started
going through the mess on the table where his computer was. Everything was
ruined. It was so discouraging. The melted plastic from the computer had
even run all over their notes, like lava from a volcano and singed them so
badly he couldn't make out but one word in ten. The worst was when he pried
up a congealed blob of plastic and discovered the remains of Cathy's
Grimoire. Some chemical in the plastic must have reacted with the book. It
looked like someone had dipped the thing in acid. There was nothing left
but the frayed leather binding. The original spell was in that book. If
Cathy didn't have another copy then all was lost - they'd never be able to
recreate the summoning spell from memory.
It felt like the entire world had turned against him. It was all so
hopeless. Slowly Bob sank to the floor. He drew his knees up to his chest,
hugging his legs, laid his head on his knees and started to cry again.
After a while he was cried out. Strangely, he felt better. As if the
pressure of stress had all drained away. When he'd been male he used to
masturbate, whenever possible, if pressure got to him. Was he going to
start crying from now on? God, what is wrong with me, he thought. I can't
control my emotions. Is this what my life is going to be from now on?
He tried to put those thoughts out of his mind. He walked back to the
bathroom and washed his face. He stood leaning over the sink with water
dripping down his face mesmerized by his reflection. He was staring at the
face he fantasized about every time he masturbated. Even though he wasn't
feeling particularly aroused, curiosity got the better of him. He
straightened his body and shrugged off the shirt he was wearing -- not hard
to do - he just unbuttoned a couple top buttons, dropped his arms to the
side and wiggled his shoulders and the monstrously oversized garment
slithered down his body and puddled around his ankles. He took one step
forward, kicked the shirt behind him, and voila - nude blonde. He giggled -
talk about your fantasies coming to life!
He stared at himself in the full length mirror. There was less shock, more
familiarization in his examination now. He wasn't yet comfortable with his
new appearance but he no longer felt totally in denial either. He studied
himself more like someone experimenting with combing his hair differently
than someone who'd woken up to find his head shaved bald.
He tried imitating some of the things he enjoyed watching women do. Tossing
his head to see his hair fly about. Standing profile on tiptoes to see how
his ass and legs looked. Leaning over to watch how his breasts hung and
jiggled on his chest. Cocking his head to one side and smiling seductively.
Blowing air kisses. Posing with one hand on hip, one leg slightly cocked.
Soon he was posing more and more provocatively. He felt silly, exhilarated,
and a little embarrassed, all at once, and was also starting to feel a
little turned on. As he continued posing, his touch on his skin became more
languorous. He began touching himself more for the pleasurable sensations
he was eliciting than for the visual impact of the poses. Before long, he
stopped posing altogether and simply stood still and caressed his body.
Slowly Bob traced the outline of his breasts with his fingertips. God, that
felt so good! He cupped them in his hands and felt their weight. The skin
was soft and satin smooth. He gently stroked his nipples with just the tips
of his index fingers. Oh! He felt his nipples crinkle - hard. He'd felt a
similar sensation of arousal when he'd been a man and had curiously played
with his own nipples, but that wasn't even close to this powerful feeling.
His knees grew weak and he felt a stirring in his crotch. He traced his
right hand down his belly, savoring the downy softness of his new skin, and
lightly brushed his silky pubic hair. Feather soft he grazed the outer
folds of his new sex with the tips of his first and second fingers. It was
too much -- he moaned aloud, aching with desire. His nipples grew even
stiffer, as if they would burst. Bob felt overwhelmed with sensations which
were vaguely familiar, similar to male arousal, but also different,
strangely wonderful and enticing. With an urgency akin to penile erection
his new vagina seemed to swell and blossom, tingling, ultra-sensitive,
straining for a touch, impelling him to...
DING DONG!
"Oh shit!" Bob moaned in frustration. He guiltily snatched his hands away
from his body and tried to calm his breathing and slow his pounding heart.
Cathy was back awfully early, she probably forgot something.
DING DONG! DING DONG!
"Hold on, I'm coming!" He called, irritated. "Well, I almost did," he
muttered to himself.
He looked around for something to put on so he could answer the door. The
last thing he wanted was to give the neighbors a thrill. He rejected the
shirt he'd just taken off as way too big -- likely to slip open and reveal
his newly acquired charms to anyone in the parking lot. Cathy was right,
all his old clothes would be like wearing a tent, so he decided to look for
something in his roommate's room. Jim was in much better shape than Bob had
been and might have something that he could wear in a pinch. Jim was a
men's medium as compared to Bob's 4Xlarge. Jim wouldn't mind if he borrowed
his clothes Bob reasoned, they were best friends and he'd have done the
same for Jim if ever he was suddenly turned into a woman by a demon.
On top of the bed was a basket of clean laundry. Bob grinned, it was so
typical of Jim to do laundry before going to visit his parents, Jim was too
considerate for his own good. Quickly he rummaged through the
clothes-basket and came up with a yellow tank top that Jim used for
running. It was loose on Jim so it should fit his new body almost like a
dress. He pulled it over his head, glanced in the bureau mirror and saw
that he was 'decent' -- barely. It came pretty high on his thighs, and his
breasts were rather prominently displayed, but there wasn't time to look
for anything better. Besides, he'd be changing into the clothes Cathy
brought once he opened the door for her.
DING DONG! DING DONG! KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
"I said I'm coming!" Bob yelled. Exasperated, he stomped over and yanked
open the door without bothering to check the peephole. "What the hell's the
rush..." his angry comment trailed off when he saw who was at the door.
Leaning against the door frame with his back mostly turned so he was facing
the parking lot was Brad Franklin. Brad was everything Bob had not been as
a man. He was handsome, self-assured, athletic, rich, and had a way with
the ladies - he seemed to always have a gorgeous woman hanging on him. He
and his friends were the social elite on campus. They belonged to the best
fraternity, drove the hottest cars, threw the wildest parties, and fucked
the most beautiful women. Bob hated him. He lived in the next apartment
over and saw Bob all the time, yet hardly even acknowledged his existence.
He'd drive past Bob walking to class and never offer him a ride, even when
it was raining. The only time he ever spoke to Bob or any of his roommates
was when he'd throw one of his parties and come over to bum some ice.
In no hurry, as if he was accustomed to people waiting on him, he
straightened up and began turning toward Bob. "I was afraid you'd all gone
for the holiday. Hey, man, I need some..." He paused and broke into a wide
grin as he got his first look at the new and improved Bob. His eyes
leisurely wandered downward, oozing over Bob's body, gliding down his legs
to his bare feet, then crawled back upward and came to rest squarely on his
breasts. "...n-i-i-i-i-i-c-e... No, Ice. I mean. I need some ice. Got any?"
With Brad's attention so obviously focused on his chest, Bob became acutely
aware of how stiff his nipples were and how they pushed out the thin fabric
of the tank top. He also remembered how flushed and excited he looked in
the mirror just before he came to answer the door. Realizing how he must
appear to Brad, Bob blushed deeply, let go the door knob and
self-consciously brought his arms up to hug his chest.
Brad grinned even wider as he watched Bob's reaction, obviously
interpreting it as appreciation for his own manly form. When Bob released
the door to cover his breasts Brad, ever opportunistic, took advantage of
this to push the door open a bit wider and take a step across the
threshold, thus preventing Bob from closing the door. "Hi, I'm Brad, I live
next door. You're new. I thought three guys lived here... Jim... and um...
Scott... and... Bob? I've never seen you before." He flashed a friendly
smile and offered his hand in greeting.
Reflexively, Bob reached out his hand and said, "I'm Bob... uh... Bob's
sister... Bob's sister... uh... Robyn. Yah, Bob's sister, Robyn. Nice to
meet you, Brad." Smooth, very smooth, Bob mentally kicked himself for being
an idiot.
Before he realized what was happening Brad had taken his hand, but not in a
normal handshake as Bob expected. He enfolded Bob's fingers and held them
loosely, horizontally, as though he were about to raise Bob's hand to his
lips and kiss it. Bob had never realized before the subtle difference in
the way a man takes a woman's hand - and how it made the woman feel vaguely
vulnerable - it was not the handshake of equals. Flustered, Bob blushed all
the more, and tried to draw back his hand. But Brad squeezed his fingers
lightly and held on with just enough pressure to prevent Bob from
graciously withdrawing his hand. Unconsciously, Bob's free arm had dropped
to his side to counterbalance the extension of his right arm, so he stood
there feeling awkward and trapped, his right hand captured by Brad while
his left hand fluttering ineffectually near the hem of his tank top.
"Very nice to meet you, Bob's sister Robyn. You have lovely... hands." As
he spoke these words, his gaze moved from their joined hands up to Bob's
breasts -- which were barely concealed by the thin cotton tank top.
