Trick of the Mind - 12 by Maeryn Lamonte Melanie Ezell's big closet ultimate writer's challenge — Written From The Heart Thanks to Wren Erendae Phoenix for editing/proofing. I have been releasing this story in roughly 2000 word chunks. Whilst this has done wonders for my kudos (750 in two weeks compared to 4000 over one year), I wonder if it is affecting how much people are enjoying the story. There are times when 2k words isn't enough for any significant developments and I'm wondering if this may be why the readership is dropping off. While I appreciate the final decision is mine, I am a fan of the democratic process (despite its flaws) so would like to invite you as readers to vote on the size of postings. Choices are leave it at 2k, increase to 4k or increase to 8k. Bear in mind that the regularity of postings will drop off once the story catches up with me in about 50k words. Please PM me with your vote if you want a say rather than clogging up the comments. I had enough wit not to leave the real tights and panties lying around and stuffed them into the bottom of a bag before filling it with a selection of books in the hope that at least some of them would be useful. On the way to class, I stopped at the kitchen and downed glasses of water until my distended stomach cried for mercy. I was sure the previous evening had been helpful for a number of reasons, but at that moment my hangover refused to let me figure out exactly what they all were.

My head was foggy but clearing as I sat down in my first lecture and as I became more aware of how much leg I was showing, I felt panic rising up inside.

“It’s all in your mind,” I told myself, over and over again, only just keeping the rising tide of terror from driving me from the lecture hall.

The prof’s arrival saved me from losing it; only the most suicidal student would actually try to leave after Professor Hanson made his entrance. As he began, I switched into autopilot mode and wrote down pretty much everything that he said, leaving my mind free to wander where it would. It was gravitating towards the events of the previous evening, and my niggling feeling of having missed something, when a silence in the room brought me back to myself and I realised that the professor was staring directly at me.

“Have a few too many last night, Richard?” he asked sarcastically.

“Sorry professor,” I said, “I must have got out of bed on the wrong side this morning. I’m not feeling particularly with it.”

“Don’t kid a kidder Richard. I’ve been teaching here for long enough to recognise a hangover when I see one.

“Perhaps you’d like to consult the notes you’ve been copying down so assiduously and remind yourself of the question I just addressed to you.”

I did as suggested and found the last thing I had written down was indeed a question. This was one of the topics I’d read ahead on though and, despite the dark place I'd inhabited over the previous few weeks, I was still ahead of the game. I knew this and, given a few seconds to recall and rearrange an equation or two in my head, I was able to gave the right answer.

“Very good Richard, perhaps you are the exception that proves the rule that alcohol and study do not mix. However if you turn up to one of my lectures in this state again, I will have you removed. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir.” My mind was still rather numb, but he wouldn’t be asking me any more questions today unless I volunteered. I drifted back into autopilot for the rest of the lecture and followed the general flow of students out when it was all over.

The current led to the union and, since I had an hour to kill before my next lecture, I went off in search of a coffee or two. Having found and downed sufficient caffeine to kick-start my brain, I focused on trying to figure out what had been different the previous night.

I drew a blank, but was at least functioning more or less adequately when it came time for my next lecture.

By the end of the day my head was too full of physics to think of anything else, although the familiar fingers of depression were scrabbling at the edge of my consciousness. I wished I could at least wear something a bit longer, however it seemed I was cursed to wear the women’s clothes I most liked, and these more often than not showed a lot of leg.

I made it home to find Dave showing no ill effects from the previous night’s binge. No big surprise there, most of Dave’s friends agreed that he had inherited a lot of bovine DNA, most possibly from his father’s side. Jen hadn’t fared so well, but at least she'd had the presence of mind to pull a sicky. Still, by the time I dropped by her room we were both feeling more human.

She was sitting in the communal area outside her room as I approached, nursing a mug of something hot and stimulating in her hands and staring out the window.

“Never again,” she said to me as I came close enough to hear, “and definitely not in the middle of the week.”

“I don’t know how Dave does it,” I agreed. “He was showing no signs of night before when I caught up with him a few minutes ago. You feeling OK now?”

“Almost human, how about you?”

“Still have one or two cobwebs up there, but normal service will be resumed soon.”

“I take it that having a hangover had no effect on you?”

I shook my head. “I woke up still wearing your white dress and now I’m wearing something out of Austin Powers.”

She tried to hide a smile by taking a sip from her mug.

“I’m sorry Richard, but that conjures up the cutest picture in my mind. Would you like a coffee?”

I gave in and smiled myself. I could see my reflection in the mirror and if Jen’s imagination was showing her even half of what my mind had made up, then it was no wonder she found it funny.

“Thanks,” I accepted the offer of a drink and followed her into the kitchen. “The hall seems kind of empty at the moment.”

“I think there’s a sale on in one of the department stores. Have money will shop. I’d have gone myself if my stomach still wasn’t regretting yesterday’s excursion.”

“I’m sorry you got roped into that. Dave means well but his idea of a good time is a bit rough on us mortals.”

Jen handed me a mug of instant and I breathed in its life-giving fumes and thanked her.

“There’s been something bugging me all day,” I said. “Something about last night that was different, that seemed to make it better.”

“Well I did lend you my dress before we made out, that was pretty erotic, or don’t you remember that?”

“I’m not likely to forget that ever,” I said wistfully, “but it wasn’t that, it was later when we were out with Dave.”

We found a sofa and she snuggled up to me. “Let’s go though it step by step then. I came round and pushed you into the shower. When you came back I took off my dress and lent you some undies and tights to wear with it…”

“Oh that reminds me. I have your things in my bag. I’m afraid I haven’t washed them, but it might look a bit odd if they come out of the washing machine with my stuff.”

She sat up and looked at me. “Could that be it?”

“What?”

“After we made out, Dave came banging on the door and we had to get dressed quickly. There wasn’t time for you to take off my underwear so you just pulled your jeans on over the top.”

“Which meant that I was actually wearing tights and knickers when this thing in my head had me believing that I was wearing your dress. Why would that feel less wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Jen said, “but are you up for another experiment?”

“What do you have in mind?”

She grabbed my hand and pulled me up the stairs to her room.

“Close the door and take off all your clothes.” She told me as she started going through her drawers.

“Are you sure? I mean you have to be a bit more careful about your rep than I do.”

“There’s no-one around, and after yesterday I probably deserve a bit of a rep don’t you think?”

She turned to me and handed me a pair of lacy panties and a pair of tights before opening her wardrobe.

“Put those on.”

By the time I’d done as she asked, she was handing me a pair of three quarter length trousers in some stretchy material and a fairly nondescript top; only just on the girly side of unisex.

She then kept her back turned while I changed.

I looked in the mirror. I was wearing a knitted dress with a boat neckline and long embroidered sleeves over a pair of black tights.

“Well?” Jen asked looking at me.

I described what I was wearing.

“So if you really wear girl clothes you don’t necessarily end up seeing yourself wearing those girl clothes.”

“No, but this feels less wrong again.”

“Take off the trousers and the top,” she instructed me as she dived into the wardrobe again.

She handed me a grey dress. I’d seen her wearing it once or twice around campus and really didn’t like it. It hung on her like a sack and hid everything that was beautiful about her body.

“It was a present from my Nan a while back. I wear it every now and again out of loyalty, but it’s pretty much the ugliest thing I own.”

She showed me how the fastenings worked and I slipped it on. When I turned to the mirror the sack was gone. In its place was a bright yellow shift dress with embroidered pink flowers above the hem line. I described it.

“How do you feel?” She asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean how do you feel? Does it feel more or less wrong?”

“Oddly less wrong,” I replied, “given that I’m standing in my girlfriend’s room wearing her clothes.”

“Slip it off,” she told me again. “One last stop in this fashion parade.”

I gave her back the sack and she dropped something soft and sparkly into my hands.

“I bought it over Easter and haven’t had a chance to wear it yet. I did think about trying it yesterday, but thought the white dress was better for that.”

I pulled at the tangle of stretchy purple fabric and Jen helped me to arrange it into the way it was meant to look and to put it on and, by the time we had finished, I was wearing one of the most stunning mini dresses I’d ever seen. Gaps in the fabric showed hints of skin here and there, and it was long enough to be sexy without hinting at indecent like a lot of the clothes I’d ended up wearing.

My mind didn’t change it and it felt really good.

Jen had her thoughtful face on, so I perched on the edge of the bed, sipped my coffee and waited.

A few seconds later, she was rummaging in the wardrobe again. She held up a pair of tight satin trousers and a frilly green top in front of her.

“You like?”

The top wasn’t quite my taste. She had a red one with thin straps that would look better and I told her.

She dropped the green one and pulled out the red top in question. “This one?”

I nodded and she disappeared behind the wardrobe, reappearing a minute later looking drop dead gorgeous. I probably drooled a bit just then.

“OK, take that off.” She instructed me as she slipped off the clothes she’d just put on. She then chucked the red top and satin trousers at me. “And put those on.”

She disappeared behind the wardrobe and slipped her jeans and sweatshirt back on.

The trousers were a tight fit, but had just enough stretch that I was able to do the zip up. The red top was more awkward, but with Jen’s help I managed to pull it on and straighten it out.

I looked in the mirror, and for the first time since January I was wearing trousers. Skin tight, satin trousers, it’s true and with a lacy red top that did nothing to suggest I was a guy, but it felt so good I didn’t care.

“Jen you are a genius.” I told her. ”I mean I can’t really go out looking like this, but it’s definitely progress.”

The clothes were a bit too tight to be comfortable and I was afraid of ripping the delicate fabric, so together we eased them off my frame.

“Keep the underwear on.” She told me, and I did as instructed, reaching for my jeans and tee-shirt. In next to no time, I was standing in front of the mirror, just a little disappointed to be back in the purple dress, but feeling better with the genuine sensation of soft nylon rubbing against my legs.

I rejoined Jen and sat beside her on the bed, legs squeezed self-consciously together. “So exactly what do you think you've figured out?”